Intrigue and Infatuation

Chapter 1

London, September 2, 1805

Cordelia's stomach sank at the sight of her cousin prowling through the crush. His younger brother and sister as well as his insufferable mother were likely close by. They were supposed to be in Bath until the start of the London season.
Curse those Other Rowleys.
A hand seized her arm and startled her. "The Other Rowleys are here," Amelia warned in hushed tones.
"I have my eye on Andrew. Let us hope the assembly room is too crowded for him to find me tonight."
Andrew Rowley sauntered through the throng of London elites, his movements languid, feline — a dangerous jungle cat in search of prey.
And there was plenty willing prey at the ball tonight.
His rakish grin sent fans fluttering and eyelashes batting wherever he directed it.
"We could hide in the card room?" Amelia suggested. "Or in the ladies drawing room?"
"No." Cordelia straightened. "Grandfather would hate to know Andrew Rowley sent us into a full retreat. We must find friends of ours in circles so far above his he would dare not approach."
Cordelia clasped Amelia by the hand and pulled her through the crowd. They joined the flood of couples leaving the dance floor as the set ended, but dread fluttered Cordelia's pulse. She didn't have a partner for the next set, and her cousin was no doubt searching for her.
To her dismay, every face within reach was a stranger and a glance over her shoulder confirmed the worst. Andrew locked his gaze with hers. Cordelia pretended not to notice and instead searched the crowd for a friend to save her — or anyone for that matter.

...

Curse Lord Keir Fraser for dragging me to a London ball and deserting me. "Hardly worth the guineas for the ticket," Lachlan Shawe muttered to himself.
He tugged the stiff collar of his officer's blue frock coat. The promotion to Commander had come at just the right time. With nearly everything he earned tied up in repairs to Dunloch castle, he never would have set foot in the assembly rooms if Keir hadn't paid for his ticket.
His sister, Lara, would be livid if she knew he'd attended a ball. She had begged him mercilessly for a debut in London, but there was no way to do a proper season without a small fortune. Furthermore, it would be a long time before he even considered allowing Lara to have a season after their disastrous stay in Bath.
The set ended and Lord Fraser escorted his beautiful companion back to her chaperone. Several eligible ladies positioned themselves in his path with the hope of capturing his eye and a partner for the next set.
Lord Fraser headed straight for Lachlan to every matchmaking mama's dismay. "Are you going to spend the whole night sulking? The assembly room seems short on men tonight"
"There's a war on, Keir," Lachlan replied. "And no one wants to dance with a penniless Scott."
"You over exaggerate, but you'd be surprised what society sins a well-bred lady will forgive for the chance at a title." Keir laughed and a smile twitched on Lachlan's lips against his will. "I know your heart is spoken for but, please," he clasped his hands together beseechingly, "ask a wallflower to dance and you won't even have to make conversation. You're drawing too much attention." He then lowered his voice. "I'm here in a professional capacity."
Lachlan's brows rose. "What about dancing with debutantes is work?"
"Ach!" Keir exclaimed, letting his Highland roots show. "I just need you to look amenable. I'm waiting for someone to make contact with information and I don't want your scowl scaring them away."
"What makes you sure my dancing won't scare them away?" Lachlan folded his arms across his chest.
"Because I know how many hearts in Dunborough you broke when you set your cap at Maria Mowbray."
Maria. Just her name made his heart ache. She had assured him that she would wait for him while he is in the Navy. The future of his estate rested on its Laird taking French vessels to earn enough money to save the crumbling estate. A naval commission wasn't fashionable, but the rewards to be had were great.
"Fine," Lachlan grunted, turning the conversation away from Maria. "For your sake—" He surveyed the room in search of a quiet girl whom the ton had overlooked, but his words caught in his throat. A beautiful woman emerged from the crowd. It wasn't her crimson ringlets, the treasury of jewels adorning her, or the glittering sage gown she wore. It was her light blue eyes that drew his attention to her — and the look of panic in them.
He stepped into the woman's path. "Pardon me, but is something the matter? You appeared upset—"
"Ask me to dance." It was more of a command than a request and it certainly wasn't the type of behavior Lachlan had expected to find among the ton.
"D-dance?" Lachlan stuttered. "I believe we are strangers. Would that not compromise your reputation?"
"You asked if I needed aid, and the aid I need is a partner for the next set."
The brown-haired woman beside her mirrored Lachlan's discomfort.
"But I am no one of consequence or fortune..." he started, but she fixed him with a look of playful scolding in her blue eyes and his protestations felt suddenly irrelevant. Why am I objecting again?
The red-haired woman drew nearer. "Do you see that man over there? He is a notorious rake and he stalks this way with the intention of asking me to dance and I am not in a position to refuse him."
Lachlan followed her gaze and spotted a familiar face in the crowd and the most notorious rake in his acquaintance. The sight of Andrew Rowley made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.
"I would rather risk my reputation with you," she continued, "someone of little consequence, than with a man who creates rumors and speculation wherever he goes."
Lachlan grinned. "I would gladly offer to stand up with you to escape that gentleman."
He took her by the arm to lead her towards the dance floor when Andrew Rowley emerged from the crush. Clearly intent on claiming his prey, Andrew started towards them but when he got a better look at Lachlan, he blanched and scurried back into the crowd.