Page 36 of A Symphony for the Earl

She hesitated. Was the empire-style gown, with its tiny, puffed sleeves and precariously modest décolleté wrong in some way? She nervously clutched her matching reticule and the Grecian shawl of silver crepe.

Something passed across the earl’s face as she descended. What was amiss? Had she forgotten anything? She stumbled on the last step, but recovered and lifted her chin, refusing to melt into a puddle under his scrutiny.

“Exquisite, Mother,” Lord Richard murmured at last. “You and Brigitte have outdone yourselves.”

Valentina clapped her hands in delight. “You look like a fairy princess, Fiona.”

“And you look positively ethereal. Like Aphrodite from myth.”

Her friend was a delicious confection in the palest-pink sateen, with golden hair twisted and held with pink roses, and a single curl falling over one alabaster shoulder. She wore lustrous pearl drops in her ears and a matching choker. Fiona had decided against jewelry, except for the aquamarines glittering from her earlobes.

“What a shame Octavia is not here to see us,” Valentina said. “I hope she is having a good time visiting Aunt Charlotte in Bath.”

“I know, my dear,” Lady Amelia agreed. “But Charlotte has been so despondent since her husband’s death. She begged me to send Octavia and Miss Ernest. How could I refuse?”

Richard raised her hand to his lips. “Mother, you are as elegant as always, and an inspiration to us all.”

Lady Amelia glowed with pleasure. She wore deep-rose taffeta, and white Minerva plumes adorned her curls, while an impressive diamond pendant hung from her slender neck.

“I recognize the style of your cravat, Richard,” she said. “The Parisienne, is it not? A most elegant arrangement. The Duke of Henry attempted one last week and made the most dreadful mess.”

Fiona could not help but admire how perfectly the earl’s black coat molded to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. She had heard men sometimes wore a girdle to contain their figure if they were vain enough. Lord Richard had no such need. The tight satin knee breeches emphasized his corded thighs. Her guardian wore the white stockings and black shoes of formal dress, which served only to accentuate the strong muscles of his calves. His shirt points were modest, and a snowy-white cravat cascaded in intricate folds above a silver-and-black satin waistcoat.

She felt a flutter in her stomach. Despite her irritation at his autocratic ways, she had to admit Lord Richard was a handsome man.

He indicated the foyer. “The carriage is waiting, ladies. Jerome will drive and stay with the horses. A footman will accompany him.”

“But it will be hours before we return,” she objected without thinking.

“Believe me, Fiona, a visit to Almack’s is the highlight of Jerome’s week,” Lord Richard replied with an amused smile. “He will visit with numerous friends, show off his fine grays, and lose a good part of his wages dicing. I know my tiger well, thank you.”

He had used her given name. Was it possible he was no longer angry? She vowed to apologize for her part in their argument at the first opportunity. Her father had often warned her to mind her hot temper, which always dissipated quickly and usually left her with regrets.

Lord Richard took the silver shawl from her hands and settled it across her shoulders.

“The night air carries a chill.” As the silky crepe settled against her skin, he bent close. “You must save your first dance and the waltz for me.” There was a note of command in the quiet voice.

She stiffened. He met her gaze, lifting his dark brows. Staring into the blue-flecked irises, she had sudden butterflies in her stomach. The thought of dancing with anyone else seemed dull indeed.

Once outside, the footman helped Lady Amelia and then Valentina into the coach. It gleamed black under the lamplight, stamped with the gold-and-red Seldon crest. The four showy grays in harness fidgeted a bit, blowing puffs of warm air into the night.

Lord Richard offered his hand to her and Fiona mounted the steps onto the seat opposite the ladies. A moment later, the conveyance dipped as his large frame filled the doorway. He settled into the cushions next to her. The door closed with a snap, and she heard the steps fold against the side. The coach rocked slightly; Jerome and his companion must have mounted the driver’s perch. There was a small lurch, and they were off.

Inside, the air was tight with anticipation.

Valentina fidgeted, adjusting her earrings. Smoothing the pink satin of her gown, she peered anxiously outside the window. “Thank goodness the ride will be short. I vow, Fiona, I am more excited than I was on my very first visit to Almack’s. It is all new again, seeing it through your eyes. How wonderful to have a friend to share the Season.”

She smiled and reached across to squeeze Valentina’s hand. “You and your family have been so generous in your welcome of me. I hope you know I am grateful. To all of you.”

During the drive, it was difficult to remain unaffected by Lord Richard, whose thigh lay mere inches from hers. The sheer power of his size and masculinity radiated in the crowded interior. Occasionally, she caught the drift of cedar and bergamot and knew she would forever associate that scent with this night and with him.

When they reached their destination, she looked over at the heavily lit stone building. There was an impressive line of carriages at the curb. The coach stopped behind an incredibly ornate six-horse vehicle, laden with gilt and scrollwork.

The footman assisted Lady Amelia onto the graveled path. Then the earl alighted, giving instructions to Jerome. When it was Fiona’s turn to descend, the gloved hand that extended was Lord Richard’s. He smiled in reassurance and she gathered her skirt with one hand and stepped down to the curb.

It was hard not to be intimidated by the endless parade of vehicles and the richly dressed guests milling around them. She might have hesitated, but his firm hand remained under her arm as he negotiated the thick congestion of people. She finally stood at the doors of Almack’s. Fiona took a deep breath as they opened to a flood of noise and bright light.

Chapter Thirteen