Page 12 of The Dandy Lyon

Her eyes widened and she jerked her gaze from him, but two hectic pink spots appeared on her cheeks. She turned her attention to Lord Tidworth, but Marcus could see she was imperceptibly shaking. Had she too felt that uncanny connection between them just now?

Heart thumping like a drum in a military parade, Marcus forced himself to take another sip of tea, his full attention still on Lady Joanna. She had continued to speak vivaciously to the gentlemen, moving her attention from Lord Tidworth to Mr. Carlton to Sir Anthony Squire in rapid succession. While switching her attention to each of those gentlemen, however, she would glance fleetingly over at him before straying back to the gentleman in question. The smile on her face, originally genuine, now held a sense of falseness about it, as though she’d grown tired of entertaining so many men. Her mouth had begun to droop, and a strain appeared at the corners of her eyes that had not been there a quarter of an hour ago.

Perhaps it was time for Marcus to step in.

He set his cup and saucer on the tea table and hastily dropped a single lump into the other cup he’d poured. Giving that cup a quick stir, Marcus continued to listen to the conversation, judged his moment, then picked up the saucer and headed for the little knot of gentlemen that showed no signs of unravelling. His height and build seemed to exude his intention for the sea of gentlemen parted swiftly and silently. Marcus continued forward, a grim set to his mouth, though none of the gentlemen made to stop his progress at all.

Only one fellow, a Mr. Newcastle, seemed not to divine Marcus’s presence. He’d gotten Lady Joanna’s ear and was avidly explaining the internal workings of a flintlock pistol—as if the lady would actually be interested in such things—and so was unaware of Marcus standing beside him, staring at him with daggers in his eyes until the lady shifted her attention from the treatise on firing mechanisms to the cup of tea in Marcus’s hand.

Slowly, with a gulp, Mr. Newcastle ground to a halt. Inch by inch, he turned his gaze upward to Marcus’s face and must have found the sight unnerving in the extreme, for he stumbled backward, running into Lord Wisbech and knocking him almost to the ground.

“Steady on, Newcastle.” The put-upon lord shoved his compatriot away and Newcastle staggered back toward Lady Joanna.

His patience at an end, Marcus grabbed Mr. Newcastle, and spun him neatly around until he faced the group of gentlemen. “I venture to say Lady Joanna is fatigued, gentlemen.” He presented her with the cup, from which not a drop had spilled, and she took it, a look of awe in her eyes.

Marcus had to fight not to let that singular look go to his head. He wanted her all to himself for a little while and so needed to keep his advantage. “May I escort you to the chaise before the fire, my lady? The air may be a bit fresher over there.”

The group had fallen silent. Marcus peered from one to the next, silently gaining consent to steal the prize away. When not one protest sounded, he offered Lady Joanna his arm and when she took it, swiftly led her across the room to the single seat before the fires. Once she was settled there, he drew another chair up and sat across from her, his back to the fireplace, his face in shadow, hers lit by the flickering flames. He took a moment to simply drink in her beauty.

“Do you always dispatch your competition so handily, Mr. Dandridge?” The lady smiled at him over her teacup.

“Yes, usually.”

Her dark brows rose briefly, almost as in an unvoiced chuckle. “Indeed, that does not surprise me. You seem to have a knack for getting what you want. Or attempting to do so.” She paused to sip her tea and her eyes widened. “This is exactly as I take it.” She cocked her head, her gaze sharpened. “How did you know?”

“I took note yesterday when Lady Braeton was serving your tea.” Marcus had taken note of everything about Lady Joanna from the moment he’d seen her last year. He could detail each gown he’d had the pleasure of watching her wear if given the chance. “I thought it knowledge that might enable me to serve you better at some later time.”

“How kind, sir.” There was doubt in her voice, but that was to be expected.

Lady Joanna was likely still wondering at his subterfuge of the persona of Mr. James. He must needs enlighten her about that and pray the deception did not turn her from him.

“I merely wish to provide you with every comfort within my power, my lady.”

“Your power seems far reaching where I’m concerned, Mr. Dandridge.” She leaned toward him and said in a loud stage whisper, “Or are we still to call you Mr. James?”

“No, my alias has been retired.” He chuckled, not taking is gaze from her. “I explained to Lady Braeton that I had made the donation under an assumed name to assure it would be accepted. Both she and Lord Braeton have forgiven the transgression.” He paused and glanced over at Lord Braeton, who was in fact staring at him and Lady Joanna with a perturbed look on his face. “Although I fear his lordship doesn’t approve of either my methods or my intentions. He has, however, agreed to me putting forth my suit to you.”

“Has he, indeed?” Lady Joanna craned her neck around to look at their host. “That is most astonishing, Mr. Dandridge, given the close friendship between Thomas and my brother.”

“I suspect the only reason he agreed is that your brother neglected to inform him of my two previous attempts to court you.” Marcus frowned. “Which I think odd, don’t you? I would have thought Lord Longford would have made provision with Lord Braeton to keep me away from you at all costs.”

“I’d agree with you, except my brother has been most distracted recently. He and my sister-in-law are expecting their first child any day now but two months ago, in the middle of the Season, Diana began to…have problems.” Lady Joanna blushed. “Suffice it to say, the London doctor had her confined to bed and as Geoffrey wished his heir to be born at Longford, we left Town immediately for Middlesex.”

“I pray she is delivered of a healthy son, my lady.” Marcus was sincere in this wish. He knew all too well of the perils of childbirth from his mother’s ordeals when he was young.

“Thank you.” The lady sipped her tea and her cheeks returned to their normal hue. “Although I do not think it would be wise to relay your respects when next I write to her.”

“Perhaps not.” Marcus cocked his head, a sudden thought occurring. “If I may be so bold as to ask, why are you not with your family at such an auspicious time?”

Lady Joanna sighed. “Because of you, I suspect.”

“I beg your pardon?” Confused, Marcus sat back in his seat.

“My brother wished me to marry this Season, to put me out of your reach, Mr. Dandridge.” She said this matter-of-factly, without a hint of malice, which would have endeared her to him he not already been besotted by her. “However, as my Season was cut short, Geoffrey arranged for me to come here to meet additional gentlemen who I might be inclined to fall in love with.”

“And have you, Lady Joanna?”

“Have I what, sir?”