Lady Adventuress 02 - The Education of Lord Hartley by Daphne du Bois Page B
Authors: Daphne du Bois
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friend.
He remembered the way she had looked up at him with wide, worried eyes just before he’s kissed her at Chenefelt. At the time, he hadn’t known what had possessed him to do that, and he still didn’t really know – but whatever it was, it had shaken him to the bone.
Frederick would never accept Hart treating his sister like his latest flirt. And yet, lately, all Hart seemed to do was kiss her, or think of kissing her, or long to kiss her.
He was meant to be protecting Maggie from just such advances – not taking liberties himself! Yet, he had to own that he had never thought of Maggie as the sort of girl who’d permit a gentleman unwelcome liberties. Her reaction had been as enthusiastic as his own.
He would simply have to keep reminding himself of his duty as protector.
It didn’t help matters any that the lady in question had put in an unexpected appearance in a dream of his the previous night, dressed in that delightful gown she had worn the day he’d found her again in Paris.
The contents of the dream had been thoroughly enjoyable and astonishingly explicit – enough so that if Frederick were ever to learn of them he would surely call Hart out. And with good reason. It would be nothing less than a matter of honour.
The marquess made his way into his aunt’s music room, arriving somewhat late and finding Maggie already present and engaged in conversation with several dowagers. She gave him a nod and half-smile before returning her attention to her companions.
It was strange, too, to see her take so well in Society: she seemed to be on friendly terms with people he had never even met, and yet he had always associated her with the country – with rowing on the lake and with long, lazy summers at Chenefelt. But here she was, completely at her ease in grand company in a foreign country. He thought wistfully of those days of childish devotion when she had followed him and her brother on all their many mischiefs.
Taking one look at her, Hart knew instantly that she was also the most ravishing woman in the room, though there were many greater beauties present.
Maggie looked suitably striking in a burgundy crepe gown with a slight train. It gave her skin a delightfully warm glow and played off the sparkle in her eyes. She was a tableau vivant , as though a painting had come to life. He could not seem to look away though he knew he had to – for both their sakes.
His line of sight was broken when Marie-Josette began shepherding her guests into chairs.
A quartet of musicians took their place at the front of the room, followed by a tall, handsome man. Hart supposed that he must be the celebrated Sir Lucian Blake Hartley saw several ladies’ eyes widen in admiration as they took in the composer. They looked like they had discovered a particularly choice morsel on the cake platter. Hart was less amused when he realised that Maggie’s eyes were also trained on the man.
“Thank you all for extending me such a kind welcome this evening, and I am most especially indebted to our charming hostess, Madame la Comtesse de St Mercy, for welcoming me into her home. I shan’t tell you about the music I’ll be conducting this evening, because I believe that it will speak for itself. It is, however, part of my new symphony, which is to be titled The Gloaming. ”
A few of the younger ladies exchanged whispers as Sir Lucian turned to the musicians and raised his hands to begin the performance.
*
When the music began, Maggie found herself utterly taken by the delicacy and passion of the composition. She was not truly musical, but even she could tell that there was something special in hearing the work conducted by the composer himself. His interpretation of every motif was sublime, his passion impossible to ignore.
Sir Lucian Blake was one of the most striking men Maggie had ever seen, though very different from Hart, and she found herself admiring the grace of his movements as one would a particularly
He remembered the way she had looked up at him with wide, worried eyes just before he’s kissed her at Chenefelt. At the time, he hadn’t known what had possessed him to do that, and he still didn’t really know – but whatever it was, it had shaken him to the bone.
Frederick would never accept Hart treating his sister like his latest flirt. And yet, lately, all Hart seemed to do was kiss her, or think of kissing her, or long to kiss her.
He was meant to be protecting Maggie from just such advances – not taking liberties himself! Yet, he had to own that he had never thought of Maggie as the sort of girl who’d permit a gentleman unwelcome liberties. Her reaction had been as enthusiastic as his own.
He would simply have to keep reminding himself of his duty as protector.
It didn’t help matters any that the lady in question had put in an unexpected appearance in a dream of his the previous night, dressed in that delightful gown she had worn the day he’d found her again in Paris.
The contents of the dream had been thoroughly enjoyable and astonishingly explicit – enough so that if Frederick were ever to learn of them he would surely call Hart out. And with good reason. It would be nothing less than a matter of honour.
The marquess made his way into his aunt’s music room, arriving somewhat late and finding Maggie already present and engaged in conversation with several dowagers. She gave him a nod and half-smile before returning her attention to her companions.
It was strange, too, to see her take so well in Society: she seemed to be on friendly terms with people he had never even met, and yet he had always associated her with the country – with rowing on the lake and with long, lazy summers at Chenefelt. But here she was, completely at her ease in grand company in a foreign country. He thought wistfully of those days of childish devotion when she had followed him and her brother on all their many mischiefs.
Taking one look at her, Hart knew instantly that she was also the most ravishing woman in the room, though there were many greater beauties present.
Maggie looked suitably striking in a burgundy crepe gown with a slight train. It gave her skin a delightfully warm glow and played off the sparkle in her eyes. She was a tableau vivant , as though a painting had come to life. He could not seem to look away though he knew he had to – for both their sakes.
His line of sight was broken when Marie-Josette began shepherding her guests into chairs.
A quartet of musicians took their place at the front of the room, followed by a tall, handsome man. Hart supposed that he must be the celebrated Sir Lucian Blake Hartley saw several ladies’ eyes widen in admiration as they took in the composer. They looked like they had discovered a particularly choice morsel on the cake platter. Hart was less amused when he realised that Maggie’s eyes were also trained on the man.
“Thank you all for extending me such a kind welcome this evening, and I am most especially indebted to our charming hostess, Madame la Comtesse de St Mercy, for welcoming me into her home. I shan’t tell you about the music I’ll be conducting this evening, because I believe that it will speak for itself. It is, however, part of my new symphony, which is to be titled The Gloaming. ”
A few of the younger ladies exchanged whispers as Sir Lucian turned to the musicians and raised his hands to begin the performance.
*
When the music began, Maggie found herself utterly taken by the delicacy and passion of the composition. She was not truly musical, but even she could tell that there was something special in hearing the work conducted by the composer himself. His interpretation of every motif was sublime, his passion impossible to ignore.
Sir Lucian Blake was one of the most striking men Maggie had ever seen, though very different from Hart, and she found herself admiring the grace of his movements as one would a particularly
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