Page 51 of Deceiving an Earl
The hundreds of candles shimmered down on his hair, turning it a golden blond. His black formal coat fit his shoulders perfectly. Beyond that, Ellen couldn’t see anything else, but she didn’t need to. She remembered.
Her body remembered dancing with him at a ball such as this. The way they’d moved perfectly together. The scent of his cologne. The feel of his arms around her. The way his body had swayed toward hers.
She hated that her body betrayed her whenever Oliver was near. She hated that she could never forget and that just looking at her son dredged up all the memories she was desperate to forget.
“…Sylvia Evendale… Heard he’s looking for a wife.”
Ellen’s attention snapped to Victoria, who always seemed to have all the gossip.
“What about Lady Sylvia?” Ellen asked.
“Rumor has it that Lord Armbruster is finally in the market for a wife. Or so Lady Evendale is saying. And she’s saying that her daughter, Sylvia, has caught his eye.”
Ellen looked back at Oliver, but he’d been swallowed up by the crowd, and she could no longer find him.
Lady Sylvia Evendale. She was a good choice. More than likely she was Nora’s choice, but still a good one. Impeccable breeding.
Oh, who was she kidding? Ellen had a lead ball in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Oliver marrying Lady Sylvia. But there was no reason for such a feeling of dread. Marriage for Oliver would be good for her. Then he would no longer be a threat.
“And there she is, Lady Evendale, following him around like a lost puppy.” Lucy giggled and the others covered their smiles.
Ellen tried to smile, but she was sure she failed, and she was relieved that her friends were more interested in discussing Sylvia’s greatest coup, if she could land Lord Armbruster.
She excused herself and wandered away from them, but if she had hoped to escape the discussion of Oliver and Sylvia she had been wrong. He was the topic of conversation, at least among the eligible young ladies and their mothers. Even the eligible bachelors were lamenting Oliver’s sudden appearance at a ball, since he rarely, if ever, attended.
“Lady Fieldhurst.”
She stopped at the sound of his voice and closed her eyes.
With a pasted-on smile she glanced behind her. “Lord Armbruster. I’m surprised to see you here.”
Up close he was even more devastatingly attractive. Age and time had been good to him. Seventeen years ago, he was just beginning to fill out. He’d been tall, his shoulders wide, but without the muscle that roped his body now. Small creases fanned from his eyes, making him look mature and handsome.
“I’m surprised to be here,” he said.
“You were always honest.”
“Only with you.”
She turned her head away, not wanting him to see that his words had touched her.
“Rumor is circulating that you are here for Lady Sylvia.”Why did I bring that up?
“Word travels quickly,” he said.
They were in their own little bubble, the crowd surging around them but giving them room to breathe. Mothers kept a safe distance, watching, but pretending not to watch.
“Oh, come now, Armbruster. You know nothing is a secret in London Society.”
“I would have hoped something would be secret for at least a day. I just decided to attend yesterday.”
“It’s true, then? You’re in the market for a wife?”
“It’s true.” His gaze clashed with hers, chips of blue ice with an honesty she couldn’t meet him with.
“I’m sure Lady Armbruster is happy.”
“It’s been her dream since the day I was born, to see me safely wed.”
