Stephanie Laurens - The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae

The Capture of the Earl of Glencrae

Stephanie Laurens

Contents

June 1, 1829

Cavendish House, London

O h. My. God. Angelica Rosalind Cynster, standing to one side of Lady Cavendishs salon with the bulk of her ladyships chattering guests at her back, stared at the long windows giving onto the unlit terrace and the dark gardens beyond, at the reflection of the gentleman who was staring at her from the opposite side of the room.

Shed first felt his disconcerting gaze some thirty minutes before; hed watched her waltz, watched her laugh and chat with others, but no matter how discreetly shed looked for him, hed refused to show himself. Irritated, with the musicians resting shed worked her way around the room, moving from group to group, exchanging greetings and comments, smoothly shifting until shed got him in her sights.

Eyes wide, barely daring to believe, she whispered, Its him !

Her ill-suppressed excitement drew a glance from her cousin, Henrietta, presently standing beside her. Angelica shook her head, and someone in the group to the side of which she stood reclaimed Henriettas attention, leaving Angelica with her gaze locked on the most riveting man shed ever beheld.

She considered herself an expert in the art of assessing gentlemen. From her earliest years shed been aware of them as other, and years of observation had left her with a sound understanding of their features and foibles. When it came to gentlemen, she had very high standards.

Visually, the gentleman across the room trumped every one.

He was standing with six others, all of whom she could name, but she didnt know him. Shed never met him, had never even set eyes on him before. If she had, shed have known, as she now did, that he was her one, the gentleman she had been waiting to meet.

Shed always been unshakably convinced that she would know her hero, the gentleman fated to be her husband, the instant she saw him. She hadnt expected that first sighting to be via a reflection across a crowded room, but the result was the sameshe knew it was him.

The talisman that The Lady, a Scottish deity, had gifted to the Cynster girls to assist them in finding their true loves had passed from Angelicas eldest sister, Heather, to her middle sister, Eliza, who on her recent return to London with her new fianc had handed the necklace to Angelica, the next in line. Composed of old gold links and amethyst beads from which a rose-quartz pendant hung, ancient and mysterious the talisman now lay beneath Angelicas fichu, the links and beads against her skin, the crystal pendant nestling in her dcolletage.

Three nights ago, deeming her time, her turn, had come, armed with the necklace, her instincts, and her innate determination, she had embarked on an intensive campaign to find her hero. Shed come to the Cavendish soiree, at which a select slice of the upper echelon of the ton had gathered to mingle and converse, intent on examining any and all prospective males Lady Cavendish, a lady with an extensive circle of acquaintance, had inveigled to attend.

The talisman had worked for Heather, now engaged to Breckenridge, and had brought Eliza and Jeremy Carling together; Angelica had hoped that it would help her, too, but hadnt expected such a rapid result.

Regardless, now she had her hero in sight, she wasnt inclined to waste another minute.

He hadnt noticed, from his position on the opposite side of the room possibly couldnt see, that she was studying him. Her gaze locked on his reflection, she visually devoured him.

He was stunningly impressive, towering half a head taller than the men around him, none of whom were short. Elegantly attired in a black evening coat, pristine white shirt and cravat, and black trousers, everything about him from the breadth of his shoulders to the length of his long legs seemed in perfect proportion to his height.

His hair appeared solidly black, straight, rather long, but fashionably styled with windblown, slightly ruffled locks. She tried to study his features, but the reflection defeated her; she couldnt make out any details beyond the sharply defined, austere planes of his face. Nevertheless, his broad forehead, bladelike nose, and squared chin stamped him as the scion of some aristocratic house; only they possessed such hard, chiseled, coldly beautiful faces.

Her heart was thumping distinctly faster. In anticipation.

Now shed found him, what next?

If it had been in any way acceptable, she would have swung on her heel, marched across the room, and introduced herself, but that would be too forward, even for her. Yet if after thirty and more minutes of watching her he hadnt made any move to approach her, then he wasnt going to, at least not there, not that night.

Which didnt suit her at all.

Shifting her gaze, she scanned the gentlemen in the loose circle in which he stood. Hed been listening to the conversations but rarely contributing, merely using the interaction to cloak his interest in her.

Even as she looked, one of the other men saluted the group and moved away.

Angelica smiled. Without a word, she quit Henriettas side and glided into the crowd thronging the salons center.

She caught the Honorable Theodore Curtiss sleeve just before he joined a group of young ladies and gentlemen. He looked around and smiled. Angelica! Where have you been hiding?

She waved to the windows. Over there. Theo, who is that gentleman in the group you just left? The very tall man Ive never met.

Theo, a friend of her family who knew her far too well to entertain thoughts of her himself, chuckled. I told him it wouldnt be long before the young ladies noticed him and came swanning around.

Angelica played the game and pouted. Dont tease. Him who?

Theo grinned. Debenham. Hes Viscount Debenham.

Who is? She gestured for more.

A capital fellow. Ive known him for yearssame age as me, came on the town at the same time, similar interests, you know how it goes. His estates somewhere near Peterborough, but hes been away from the ton for... must be four years. Left because of family and estate business, and has only just returned to the drawing rooms and ballrooms.

Hmm. So theres no reason you shouldnt introduce him to me.

Still grinning, Theo shrugged. If you like.

I would. Angelica took his arm and turned him to where her hero, Debenham, still stood. I promise to return the favor next time you want to steal a march with some new sweet young thing.

Theo laughed. Ill hold you to that. Anchoring her hand on his arm, he led her through the crowd.

While they tacked past various groups, nodding and smiling, pausing only when they couldnt avoid it, Angelica conducted a rapid inventory of her appearance, checking that her pale teal silk gown was hanging straight, that the lacy fichu that partially filled in the scooped neckline was sitting properly and adequately concealing the necklace. At one point, she paused to redrape her teal-and-silver silk shawl more elegantly over her elbows; shed elected to make do without a reticule or fan, so she didnt have those to fuss over.

Her hair she didnt dare touch. The slithering red-gold tresses were swept up in a complicated knot on the top of her head, anchored by innumerable pins and a pearl-encrusted comb; from experience she knew that even a little jiggling could bring the entire mass cascading down. While no gentleman had ever minded her transformation to a clothed version of Venus rising from the waves, that wasnt how she wished to appear before her hero for the first time.