The Bewitching Hour by Diana Douglas Page B

upon me, who was so painfully shy she couldn’t so much as look me in the face and a bluestocking who talked of nothing but Shakespeare. I lost every cent I had in my pocket to Rand in the card room, and I managed to frighten off several young pups who I felt did not have my sister’s best interest at heart.”
      She couldn’t keep from laughing. “You’ve been quite busy, haven’t you?”
      “Unavoidably so.”
      They were interrupted by the sound of someone loudly clearing his throat. Lord Mallory was holding a glass of champagne in each hand. His eyes were fixed on Stratton.
      Stratton grinned widely. “Mallory, old friend. How have you been?”
      “Lord Stratton,” he muttered as he handed Priscilla her glass. “What stroke of fortune brings you here? I thought town life was not to your liking. Have you grown weary of the country? I must say the idea of looking after crops and livestock and such seems an unpleasant chore.”
      “No, I still prefer the country. I’m not ready to turn myself into a town dandy,” Stratton added as he cast his eye on Mallory’s puce jacket and green striped waistcoat. “But I have responsibilities that have called me to London.”
      “Will those responsibilities keep you here for the entire season? Given your preferences, I would imagine you would be feeling quite hemmed in after a while.”
      “Possibly.” Stratton shrugged gracefully. “But I will take it in stride. Duty calls, you know.” He winked at Priscilla. “At present, I’m focusing on the pleasantries of the season and have come to claim the dance Miss Hawthorn has promised me.”
      “But the music has yet to begin and Miss Hawthorn hasn’t finished her champagne,” Mallory said with a touch of hostility. “Have you, my dear?”
      Priscilla smiled politely at him. “My lord, I’m quite refreshed for the moment, but it’s most considerate of you to see to my needs. Thank you.”
      “Very well.” He made no attempt to disguise his displeasure. “With your permission, I will call on you tomorrow morning.”
      “Mrs. Hutton and I will look forward to it.”
      “If you will excuse us, Lord Mallory.” Stratton took her arm and led her back into the ballroom.
      “I don’t believe Lord Mallory much cares for you,” she commented.
      “Lord Mallory hasn’t much cared for me since we were at Eton. I’m afraid Rand and I pulled a few pranks on him and he still hasn’t found it in his heart to forgive us.” He guided her toward the refreshment table and set down her glass of champagne. “I had expected to meet you at the end of the corridor, but as he seemed to be keeping you away from me, I could not help but intervene.”
      “The corridor?” Her voice rose in surprise. “I thought we were to meet at midnight.”
      Stratton stopped, pulled out his gold fob watch and checked the time. “But it is, Miss Hawthorn. Straight up twelve.”
      She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “That’s impossible. The buffet hasn’t been announced. It can’t be more than eleven o’ clock.”
      “But I have proof.” He held up the watch. “How can you doubt me?”
      She glanced at the watch. Both hands rested on twelve but the watch didn't appear to be ticking. The sneak. “Easily. I believe you changed the time on your watch.”
      He squinted as he examined the watch. “So I have. I wonder why I did that.”
      She wasn't certain whether to laugh or walk away in a huff. “To trick me. You seem to have a habit of that.”
      He shook his head and laughed. “Not to trick you. To save you.”
       Save her? Perhaps he was touched in the head. “Save me from what?”
      “That odious man you were dancing with.”
      “He isn’t odious. Lord Mallory is the perfect gentleman.” She stopped and shook her head.