Midnight Pleasures With a Scoundrel by Lorraine Heath

tea—and cakes. While it was not her usual habit to impose when her tenants had guests, she seemed unable to get beyond the notion that she had a duchess sitting in her parlor, sipping tea, nibbling on a cake, and chatting as though they were all familiar friends. The duchess had such an unassuming manner that Eleanor had little doubt she charmed anyone she encountered. For someone not born into the aristocracy, the duchess had adapted very well to her elevated position in society. Eleanor was left to wonder if she might have adapted as well if she, instead of Elisabeth, had been the one her father had chosen to send to London first. Or would she have been as naive as Elisabeth and followed her footsteps toward disaster?
    “I’ve enjoyed the visit so much,” the duchess finally said, “but I fear I must be off. I’ll leave Agnes with you, so she can alter the gown as needed.” She rose and everyone came to their feet as well. “I’m leaving a carriage for Agnes and shall send one ‘round for you at half past eight, if that pleases you.”
    “It pleases me very much,” Eleanor said.
    Once again the duchess took her hands. “I think it shall please Jim as well.”
    After the duchess left, Eleanor and Agnes retired to Eleanor’s rooms. The gown required very few alterations, but the duchess had been correct. Agnes was deft with the needle. A couple of hours later, when the work was finished, Eleanor stood in front of the cheval glass, admiring her reflection. The sleeveless gown’s low cut revealed an enticing bit of cleavage. The duchess had provided long gloves that went past Eleanor’s elbows, and pearled pink slippers.
    “I could prepare your hair before I leave,” Agnes offered.
    Eleanor shook her head. “No, thank you. I shall probably take a short nap before I begin final preparations. These affairs usually go late into the night, don’t they?”
    “I know the ones Lady Catherine gave lasted well past midnight. She’s been helping Her Grace with the arrangements so I suspect this one shall as well.”
    Eleanor smiled at herself in the mirror. She wondered if Lord Rockberry had been invited. If she had her way, tonight would be the night that he got his comeuppance.

    Chapter 7
    Eleanor has accepted my invitation. I’ve promised to send a carriage ’round for her at half past eight. Send word if you’d rather do the honors .
    — F
    S windler had known Frannie would win Eleanor over. To the lad who’d delivered the message, he simply said, “Tell her I’ll see to it.”
    He then sent word to Claybourne that he needed to borrow his carriage for the night, knowing full well that Claybourne would use his coach to arrive at the ball. He always escorted his wife around in the coach, because it was grander and worthy of the lady he loved. Swindler then took great care in preparing himself for the evening. While he’d have preferred that his friends leave him behind, he’d known they wouldn’t and that sooner or later he would be invited to one of their grand social events. So, months ago, he’d visited one of the better tailors in London.
    Now he stood before the mirror admiring the cut of the black swallow-tailed jacket, hunter green silk brocade waistcoat, pleated white shirt, and white cravat. He wasn’t quite as roughlooking as usual. If he was honest with himself, he’d have to admit he looked quite elegant. He’d fit in nicely with the lords who’d be strutting about. He didn’t want to admit that he cared how Eleanor viewed him, that he didn’t want to be seen as lacking in her eyes. He had little doubt that her dance card would fill up within minutes of her walking into the ballroom. Frannie was providing her with an opportunity to be seen, to be informally introduced into society. If she caught some young man’s fancy, it might be enough to turn her attention away from Rockberry. It was only as Swindler’s hands began to ache that he looked down and realized that he’d balled them