Free The Bewitching Hour by Diana Douglas Page A

magnificent sight it was. Most every window blazed with candlelight. The strains of a waltz drifted from the ballroom. Numerous colorful lanterns lit the grounds and red and gold liveried footmen lined up along the marble steps that led to the grand entrance. Aunt Mirabella was right. No expense had been spared. Mrs. Danfield had never been afraid to spend money. He held his hand out for his aunt who was all aflutter.
      She clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, goodness. This is so beautiful. It’s magical, just like a fairyland. Look at all the lights. I adore the season. And the music is superb. Oh, Eugie, you must promise me that you will dance this evening. You’ve been such a recluse of late.”
      “I intend to, Aunt Mirabella.”
      “I’m so pleased to hear that.” She prattled on as he deposited her on the ground and reached for Cecelia. His sister’s face was glowing with excitement and he heard her intake of breath as he helped her down.
      “There are so many people here,” she said in a breathless voice, “and the Danfield’s house looks so elegant. I’ve been here countless time but I’ve never seen it like this.”
      “Don’t let it overwhelm you,” Stratton said as he adjusted her shawl.
      “I don’t know how I’ll ever find Jennifer and Beth. I suppose this is one occasion that I’m glad I’m tall.”
      He took her arm and they joined the other latecomers who were headed toward the brilliantly lit entrance.
      It was only seconds before they were spotted and a female voice called out. “Lord, Stratton! Lady Fitzberry!” Groaning inwardly, he turned his head to see who had called him.
      A heavily powdered, thin-faced woman dressed in gray and silver chiffon and white feathers picked her way over, dragging a young woman behind her. She was familiar, but Stratton couldn’t place who she was.
      “Lord Stratton,” she cried. “It’s been ages, hasn’t it? Are you here for the season? But, of course you are. And Lady Fitzberry. I’m so glad you’re in town. You must come to tea next week.” She continued on without giving Mirabella a chance to reply. “And Lady Cecelia. You look lovely. I’m so pleased to see you.”
      She placed her hand on the shoulder of the young woman she had drug along with her and pushed her in front of Stratton. Attractive with light brown curls and rosy cheeks, Stratton scarcely noticed her as he searched his memory trying to recall the older woman’s name. Brown? Bronson? What in the hell is it? Brent!
      “Lady Brent.” He bowed his head slightly. “How nice to see you.” He smiled politely at the young woman. “And this is?”
      “This is my daughter, Lady Millicent, my lord. Millicent dear, this is Lord Stratton, Lady Fitzberry and Lord Stratton’s sister, Lady Cecelia.”
      “I’m very pleased to meet you, Lady Millicent,” Stratton said.
      She curtsied and fluttered her lashes at him. “My lord,” she said demurely. “My ladies.”
      Mirabella’s eyes brightened. “Lovely to meet you, my dear.”
      As the young lady fluttered her lashes again in Stratton’s direction, Cecelia’s mouth twitched with barely suppressed laughter.
      Then someone else called his name. Stratton silently uttered another profanity. It was going to be a long night.
      By the time they reached the elegant marble foyer and handed their wraps and invitations to one of the footmen, they had been approached by two additional mamas and their daughters. He was growing weary of the entire situation. His sister, however, seemed to find it vastly entertaining.
      “I believe they actually smell you before they see you,” she murmured as they climbed the steps to the receiving line. “Some of these women would put Mr. Garret’s best bloodhound to shame. You should have Rand hide you somewhere. Though I’m not