A Marriage Deal With The Viscount. Bronwyn Scott

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       Chapter Five

      He had to stop being surprised by her beauty. Conall had seen her three times now, twice in a crowd with plenty to distract, yet he’d failed to be distracted. Each time she took his breath away. Even here, amid the sumptuous glitter of the Cowden ballroom, surrounded by London’s most beautiful women and a most elegant setting, she claimed all his attention the moment she entered the ballroom, her arm tucked through Helena’s. ‘Stunning,’ Conall murmured, hardly aware he’d spoken aloud until Frederick chuckled beside him.

      ‘Yes, indeed. I didn’t think Helena would persuade her.’ Frederick leaned against the satin-swathed pillar and joined him in watching the two women across the room, his gaze riveted on his wife.

      Conall cleared his throat to cover his slip. ‘Yes, of course, an absolute coup on Helena’s part,’ he said rather too enthusiastically.

      Frederick wasn’t fooled. ‘Oh, you mean her, as in “Sofia is stunning”. Hmm,’ Frederick mused, a studied eye fixed on him before returning to peruse Sofia’s blue ball gown. ‘Yes, I suppose she is if you like the blonde, dazzling sort.’ He laughed good-naturedly. ‘And do you? Do you like the blonde, dazzling sort?’ Frederick relieved a passing footman of two glasses of champagne. He handed Conall one. ‘Cheers, old chap. It was good to have you here this week. We don’t see enough of you.’ He nodded to the two women making their way towards them. ‘Do you think that might change?’

      ‘I’ll have my father’s seat in the House of Lords to look after,’ Conall replied, obliquely pushing aside Frederick’s none-too-subtle fishing expedition.

      ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Frederick sipped at his champagne thoughtfully before adding, ‘She doesn’t care for town much either.’ Frederick slanted him a look and it occurred to Conall that Frederick could easily oblige him on the account of solving the mysteries of the Marchesa di Cremona. It was certainly a temptation to take the easy route and one he could justify on the basis of the potential of doing business with her. There would be instant gratification, but such a temptation had the reek of gossip about it. Conall had always believed if one wanted to know another, one should ask that person instead of gathering information from secondary sources, even sources as reliable as Cowden’s heir.

      Conall took a swallow of his champagne. ‘It’s purely business.’

      ‘It’s all business right now.’ Frederick finished the rest of his drink and passed off his glass. ‘You could change that, to the benefit of you both. I think she’s a person very much alone in the world, not unlike yourself,’ Frederick said pointedly. ‘Your father’s death has changed you. You’ve set yourself apart.’

      Conall shook his head. ‘I am not alone. Besides, I have my family: Mother, Cecilia and Freddie.’

      ‘Again, that’s not what I meant.’ Frederick raised an eyebrow. ‘We are not designed to be alone, old friend.’

      Conall gave Frederick a hard look. ‘Let me be blunt. I haven’t anything to offer any woman at the moment. You know that better than anyone.’

      ‘Marriage is not only about money and you have more than money to offer a bride,’ Frederick warned. ‘You didn’t use to be such a cynic. You were going to marry for love like your parents.’

      Conall frowned. ‘Not any more. I can’t afford love and, as it turned out, neither could my father.’

      ‘Your father did the best he could,’ Frederick said in defence of the deceased, his own tone matching Conall’s in sternness, then suddenly his face changed, his gaze going past Conall’s shoulder.

      Conall watched his friend’s face light up as his wife approached and gave a friendly laugh. ‘We can’t all be you, Brixton.’ That didn’t mean the hunger wasn’t still there, the hunger to have what Frederick had. He’d always thought he would. The past year had shown him how flimsy that assumption was and how out of reach. He would need more than luck to reclaim the notion of a love match. He would need a miracle.

      They bowed to the ladies and Conall watched with the usual sense of envy as Helena slid her arm through Frederick’s with familiar ease. ‘My dance card is empty,’ she flirted with her husband. ‘Perhaps you might oblige me?’

      The five-piece orchestra was tuning up, a ballroom’s subtle call to arms. Around them, matchmaking mamas began to marshal their troops as Ferris and his bride swept out on to the floor to open the dancing. A few turns on their own and then the guests would join the dancing. Helena caught his eye and Conall knew Frederick wasn’t the one doing the obliging. It was him. She’d timed this perfectly, knowing very well he was too much the gentleman to leave a lady standing alone while her friend was dancing and he had no other partner.

      ‘Marchesa, would you do me the honour?’ He bowed to her and offered his arm. If he waited too long, his gesture would look like an offer of charity.

      ‘I think Helena has manoeuvred you into this.’ Sofia blushed prettily as he led her on to the floor. The first dance, at Ferris’s request, was most untraditionally a waltz, but the whims of besotted bridegrooms were tolerated on such an occasion as a honeymoon ball.

      ‘Do you mind? I certainly don’t,’ Conall assured her. He fitted his hand to her waist and took her other hand in his as the signal came for guests to join the dancing. He swept her into the pattern with a wide smile. In truth, he enjoyed dancing and to dance with a partner who was his equal was a rare pleasure. Tonight, he had both the opportunity and the partner with which to indulge himself. She was exquisite in his arms. Her movements answered the slightest direction from his hand; her eyes were alight with a joy that matched his own and he realised that it wasn’t simply the cut of her clothes or the attractiveness of her features alone that gave her beauty. Her beauty came from a well somewhere deep within her. It was an intoxicating well to drink from and one he was in no hurry to relinquish when the dance came to an end.

      ‘Come outside with me,’ he issued his abrupt invitation СКАЧАТЬ