Free Only Enchanting by Mary Balogh Page A

sensibilities. Can you imagine anything more asinine?”
    Yes, Flavian thought. Yes, he had met Mrs. Keeping three times. Once at the ball last October, once on the village street two days ago, once in the daffodil meadow beyond the cedars this morning. And he had kissed her, dash it all.
    “I have j-just salaamed three times,” he lied. “It is a pity you couldn’t s-see me, Vince. I looked suitably worshipful.”
    “You were on your knees when you did it, I hope,” Vincent said, his hand stroking over the almost bald fair head of his son.
    He would not go back tomorrow, Flavian decided as he turned to the window to watch Ben make his slow, ungainly way up from the lake with the aid of his canes, the viscountess beside him, while Lady Harper walked ahead of them with Hugo’s wife. Ben was laughing at something Lady Darleigh was saying, and the ladies were looking back, smiles on their faces, to discover what the joke was.
    Everyone at this particular gathering was so damnably happy .
    Len had been dead for a year, and they had not spoken in more than six years before that. They never would now. Velma had been left with a daughter and was returning home to Farthings.
    Mrs. Keeping had laughed when he told her he was going to write a sonnet about meeting her among the daffodils.
    She should always laugh.
    *   *   *
    Sophia came calling during the afternoon, Viscount Darleigh with her, as well as Lord and Lady Trentham and Lady Barclay.
    Lord Trentham was a fierce-looking giant of a man, his wife a small, exquisitely pretty lady who smiled a great deal and was warmly charming. It seemed odd, considering the fact that he was one of the Survivors, that it was she who walked with a heavy limp. Lady Barclay was the one female member of the club, having been present, Sophia had explained to Agnes, when her husband was tortured and killed in the Peninsula. She was a tall lady of marblelike beauty, though she had kind eyes.
    Viscount Ponsonby had not come with them.
    “Miss Debbins,” Viscount Darleigh said to Dora after they had all drunk tea and conversed on a number of topics, “I have come to beg you to save my guests from the exquisite agony of having to listen to me play on the harp or violin for longer than a few minutes at a time. I must offer them music, but my own leaves something to be desired, despite the fact that I have you for a teacher.”
    “And mine would please no one but a doting mama if I were eight years old,” Sophia said.
    “Will you come to the house tomorrow evening as our honored guest?” the viscount asked. “To play for us, that is?”
    “And to dine first,” Sophia added.
    “You would be doing us a singular favor, ma’am,” Lord Trentham said with a frown. “Vincent has punished us with his violin during previous years and set cats to howling for miles around.”
    “The trouble with your teasing, Hugo,” Lady Barclay said, “is that those who do not know you may not understand that you are teasing. You play remarkably well, Vincent, and are a credit to your teacher. We are all, including Hugo, exceedingly proud of you.”
    “We will, nevertheless,” Lady Trentham said, “be delighted to hear you, Miss Debbins. Both Sophia and Vincent speak highly of your skill and talent on the pianoforte and on the harp.”
    “They exaggerate,” Dora said, but there was a flush of color in her cheeks that told Agnes she was pleased.
    “Exaggerate? I?” Lord Darleigh said. “I do not even know the meaning of the word.”
    “Oh, will you come?” Sophia begged. “And you must come too, Agnes, of course. Our numbers of ladies and gentlemen will be equal at the dinner table, for once. What a dream come true that will be as I arrange the seating. Will you come, Miss Debbins? Please?”
    “Well, I will,” Dora said. “Thank you. But your guests must not expect too much of me, you know. I am merely competent as a musician. At least, I hope I am competent.”
    Dora, Agnes knew as she