Fallen Angel

Everything she had ever heard of Brenna Stanhope was underscored by other people’s ideas of what a proper woman should not do. She was not married, she had had a poor first season, she worked for a living in the East End of London amongst children of the working classes and maintained no connections with the society Elizabeth was used to mingling in. There was nothing in her background that should have endeared her to Nicholas, and yet, on meeting her for the first time, Elizabeth could feel her attraction every bit as clearly as her grandson could. She was the complete opposite to him and the most right, dark against light, stillness against energy.

Letitia Carruthers’s voice broke the spell and rudely brought Elizabeth back into the moment. ‘The Beauchamps are here, Nicholas, and they would like you to meet their new daughter-in-law.’ Nicholas’s eyes raked across the never-ending procession of newly arrived guests as he reluctantly let Brenna go.

‘Damn,’ he muttered to himself. It would be at least an hour before he could be free and time was very precious under a bargain that would deny him further access after this night, should he use it unwisely. In frustration he turned back to his place in the welcoming committee, leaving Michael to take Brenna through.

In the main drawing room Brenna was thankful to see Julia and Thomas Cartwright, a couple already known to them, ensconced in the vicinity. At least in a group they would be relatively safe from the intrusion of others, though the night began to appear more and more untenable.

Her eyes looked at the timepiece gathered on a chain at her uncle’s waist. Half past eight. Lord, but it seemed like hours already that they had been here and it had not yet passed thirty minutes? An aching worry built behind her brow as she searched the front vestibule for Nicholas Pencarrow, wishing that if any one should come to harry her it might at least be him. The thought made her clench the beaded velvet of her small bag and draw away her glance from the very one who had landed her in this predicament in the first place. The Cartwrights’ greetings centred her attentions away from the gathering group of young men who had formed about her as Julia took Brenna’s hand in hers.