Seducing an Heiress on a Train

Chapter 2

2

Rayne Egerton tried to quell the rise of nerves that fluttered in her belly as her father helped her down from their coach. Her father, Douglas Egerton, beamed at her with pride. She tried to smile back.

“Breathe, my dear. You’ll do just fine. None of these ladies are any more special than you.”

Rayne wished her father’s words could comfort her, but the truth was, she felt out of place in England. They had only just arrived from a steamer ship out of New York, and London was proving to be more intimidating than New York had ever been. As much as she liked the country, the people seemed far less welcoming than she’d hoped. Even Americans with all their money weren’t always welcome…or perhaps it was because of it?

“It’s my first English ball, Father. What if I don’t know the right dances or say the wrong thing to one of the peers? The titles still confuse me.” She had spent the last month reading a copy of Debrett’s Peerage as she tried to understand the complicated system. Rayne still felt completely uncomfortable with all of the modes of address. At home, a woman was either a Miss or a Mrs., and a man was simply a Mr. There were no earls, dukes, viscount, barons, or knights. Here it was all Lord this or Right Honorable that. And trying to keep their order of importance straight… It was all too much.

A footman at the door ushered them into Lady Poole’s extravagant home. Great chandeliers lit the entry hall as she and her father joined the other newly arrived guests. She removed her ivory-colored silk-and-velvet dolman, something that resembled a half-coat and half-cape with its loose, sling-like sleeves. She unhooked the fastener at her neck and allowed the footman to slip it off and put it away for her. Her father had insisted on the new costly wardrobe before they had left for England. He’d had the gowns ordered from the House of Worth in Paris. It had embarrassed her to have such expensive things, but her father said they would be judged quite harshly based on their clothing. He’d reminded her that they would have to work twice as hard to fit in with the social crowd of London during the season.

To make the best impression, she had chosen a pale-rose evening gown with a low square neckline and sleeves that clung to the edges of her shoulders. Her gown was trimmed with live roses that had been carefully sewn in over the embroidered silk rosebuds on her skirts, draping from the high bustle at the back down to the front of her gown. A red silk bow exited the middle of her bustle, catching the viewer’s eye to the pale-pink gown. It was exquisite, but Rayne wasn’t used to such things, and she certainly didn’t feel like she belonged in it.

At home in New York, she’d worn more serviceable, sensible clothes because she spent a great deal of time assisting her father at his office. She was fortunate to have a father who believed women were capable of working alongside men, but he was the exception. Most men in New York had laughed at her attempts to discuss business and politics, and she was afraid London would be no different.

As she and her father entered the ballroom, dozens of women were already eyeing her, whispering behind raised fans, their eyes glittering with curiosity or malice. She knew why—she was an American heiress, and every unattached man in the room would soon find a way to manage an introduction to her. It was a common practice now for the titled men of England to seek marriages with rich American heiresses. And that was the very last thing Rayne wanted, for a man to see her simply as a bank account. She didn’t care if the man was a duke—if he was a fortune hunter, she wanted nothing to do with him.

She kept her arm tucked in her father’s, and her other hand clutched her skirts as they moved through the thick crowds. There had to be close to seventy people inside the room. Musicians played in a distant corner, and waiters moved around the edges of the crowd, offering champagne to those not partaking in the dance. Rayne watched the dancers, trying to recognize the steps, wondering how best to match them. The only dance she felt comfortable with was the waltz.

“Mr. Egerton!” Lady Poole came over, beaming at them both. She had met Rayne’s father a few months ago while in New York and had sent them invitations the moment she discovered they would be visiting England.

Her father bowed, and Rayne dipped into a curtsy. “Lady Poole.” The fashionable Englishwoman was in her midforties and still quite stunning. The soft smile she cast toward Douglas didn’t go unnoticed by Rayne. She’d wondered over the last year if her father and Lady Poole’s frequent letters to one another might be leading to something more. If he found happiness again after losing his wife, Rayne was ready to support his decision to remarry. All the more so if he chose Lady Poole.

“How are you faring, Rayne, dear?” Lady Poole asked. Rayne smiled in genuine relief at having at least one ally here.

“A bit nervous, I admit.”

“That’s quite normal.” Lady Poole tapped her closed fan in her palm. “Let’s see if I can’t make some introductions.” She took Rayne from her father’s arm and then towed her quickly around the room, introducing her to all the ladies in attendance. The names and titles became a confusing blur by the end.

“Stay here while I fetch some gentlemen to fill your dance card, my dear.” She left Rayne at a spot near the wall with a group of other young ladies. They all shared sympathetic looks with her.

Rayne tried not to lose herself in shame as she watched a number of handsome young bucks prowl by her and the others left out of the dancing.

Heavens…I’ve become a wallflower so soon.

“Oh dear.” The girl next to her shuffled her feet anxiously. “She’s coming. Buck up, ladies,” the girl hissed in warning to her fellow flowers.

“Who?” Rayne asked the girl, her stomach knotting with dread.

“Adelaide Berwick. Whatever you do, don’t show any hint of weakness,” the girl replied and raised her chin defiantly as a pretty young woman around Rayne’s age came up to the group of single ladies. A trio of girls followed on Adelaide’s heels, all twittering behind their fans.

“Well, ’tis a pity Lady Poole did not invite more young men. Quite silly to have so many left desiring partners. There’s simply nothing worse than being a wallflower,” she declared. Her soft blue silk gown, Rayne noted, looked as expensive as hers, but it lacked the flair of the roses. Adelaide seemed to notice this and sneered at Rayne.

“I do believe you’re wilting.” She pointed her fan at Rayne’s dress. Rayne almost looked down but didn’t. Even if the freshly cut roses were wilting, she didn’t want to give the girl the satisfaction. She knew how she would respond in America, but here? She was well out of her depth.

Adelaide changed the subject. “I’m afraid we’re not acquainted. You aren’t familiar to me. Let me guess… A country cousin of Lady Poole’s? She is always so charitable.” Adelaide’s friends giggled.

Rayne bit the side of her cheek. Do not respond. You will embarrass Father.

“Oh dear. Have you lost your tongue?” Adelaide continued. “The country mouse is too timid.”

Rayne curled her fingers around her own fan, inwardly imagining bringing it down upon Adelaide’s head.

“I have a tongue, Miss Berwick. You’re simply not worth the breath or the words to speak to.”

The wallflowers behind Rayne all gasped. Adelaide’s brown eyes narrowed to angry slits. She tossed her auburn curls venomously.

“You are American, of course. You must be the daughter of that rich old man everyone is fussing over tonight. Well, lesson one, American. I’m the daughter of Lord Berwick, so you will address me as Lady Adelaide, not miss.” Her smugness was short-lived because Rayne was good and furious now at the girl’s dig at her father. No one insulted him, especially not some twit like this.

Rayne took a step closer, plastering a smile upon her face. “My apologies, Lady Adelaide. I didn’t see an earl’s daughter here, only a spoiled little brat.”

Adelaide bared her teeth as she readied a response, but Rayne wasn’t done. She raised her voice a little so the girls behind her all heard.

“Be careful what you say next, Lady Adelaide, or I might ask my father to purchase everything you own. As you said, I’m the daughter of a very rich American. My father could buy half this country on a lark if it suited him.”

Adelaide’s face went ghostly white, and then her pretty face pinched and her cheeks turned a bright red.

“All the money in the world doesn’t fix poor breeding,” she snapped.

“I suppose you would know, seeing as how most old families in England are inbred,” Rayne shot back without a second thought.

Adelaide looked ready to spew fire, but the trio of girls behind her pulled her away, steering her toward the table of refreshments. Rayne released a sigh of relief.

“You Americans really are as bold as brass, as they say,” the girl next to her said. She had stunning green eyes and dark-brown hair.

“I realize that may have been very foolish.” Rayne blushed. Her temper was cooling, and as it did, rationality and doubt returned, along with embarrassment. She had just threatened the daughter of an earl. That wouldn’t go over well.

“Could you truly do it?” the girl asked.

“Do what?” Rayne replied.

“Buy her family’s estate and property like that?”

“Perhaps. What does her father earn in any given year?” She blushed again at the inappropriate question. The English thought it was so crass to talk openly of money.

“About forty thousand a year.”

Rayne didn’t even hesitate. “Oh yes, definitely. Twice over, I should think.”

The wallflowers gathered around her then, all gasping and chattering questions all at once.

“Ladies, let her breathe,” the green-eyed girl exclaimed. “My name is Zadie, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The same,” Rayne replied, relaxing a little at Zadie’s warm smile. “I’m Rayne Egerton.”

“Rayne, you told off Lady Adelaide, and that makes you my new favorite friend.”

“I take it she terrorizes you all often?”

“Often,” Zadie agreed with a frown. “She’s the worst sort of aristocrat. Not all ladies in her station are like that. I hope you won’t judge the rest of us by her standards.”

“Certainly not,” Rayne promised. “I let people prove their worth before I pass judgment. And I think Adelaide proved she isn’t worth anything.”

The flowers flocking around her all laughed. Zadie introduced her to most of the girls, and she felt a stirring of hope that she might make a few friends tonight.

“So, how long are you in England?” Zadie asked as she and Rayne collected champagne from a passing footman.

“A few months. My father is here to buy stock in some steel companies.”

“Oh? And your Christmas plans? Will you be staying in London?”

“No, we leave tomorrow by train for Inverness. Lord Fraser has invited us to a party there over the holidays.”

“Lord Fraser’s estate?” Zadie grinned. “I’m bound there as well. Only we leave in a few days, not tomorrow.”

Rayne’s heart soared. “You’ll be there? Thank heavens, I’ll have one friend at least.”

Zadie chuckled. “Not to worry. I’ll help you survive the end of the season and the holidays.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh!” Zadie suddenly looked toward a crowd on the opposite end of the ballroom. “I must go, I’m afraid. But I’ll see you in Inverness.” Zadie gave her a hug and rushed off. It was only as she watched her friend go that she noticed that Adelaide and the other girls nearby were laughing at Zadie.

She heard Adelaide say, “There’s only so many ways to change the same old gown before a decent gentleman notices you can’t afford a new one.”

Rayne drew in a deep breath. If she wasn’t careful, Adelaide might end up with her face drenched in champagne. Lord, Adelaide was testing the strength of her self-control.

Lady Poole plucked her from the wallflowers and sent her onto the dance floor. She had lined up a dozen young men to meet her. In between the twirls and whirls, they talked of her father and her holiday plans. Rayne tried her best to be clever, charming, and entertaining, and she found she wasn’t a complete failure.

One man, Devon St. Laurent, teased her mercilessly until she was laughing. He reminded her of the brood of cousins she had at home who all worked for her Uncle Gerard’s oil business. Those Egerton boys were delightfully wicked when it came to women, but fiercely protective of her like a little sister.

After an hour had passed, she sought refuge from the dancing in an alcove behind the refreshment table. It was a relief to have a moment alone to gather her thoughts. She’d never been overly fond of crowds. She preferred solitude and quiet study whenever possible. Her father said she was like her mother in that way. Rayne’s heart ached at the thought. They had lost her two years before, and her death had left her and her father clinging to one another in shared grief.

She was pulled from her thoughts at the rising sound of Adelaide’s hateful gossip.

“I don’t know why Lady Poole invited those dreadful Americans. They’re so…” She lowered her voice to say something to her friends that made them laugh. “I mean, look at her dress. It’s more suited to a pigsty. Perhaps that’s where she grew up? Slopping her way around with the pigs? And her hair—such a lackluster shade of brown. Her face is quite ugly, don’t you think? And those eyes—the color of mud.”

That was no private conversation of hushed whispers. The woman had wanted her to hear. Had wanted to hurt her. Rayne bit her lip, holding in tears. Adelaide didn’t deserve to see her cry. But she felt so helpless and alone. She needed air; she needed quiet.

She rushed toward the nearest door that led out of Lady Poole’s ballroom and grabbed the arm of a passing footman in the darkened corridor.

“Please, is there a library here?”

The young man nodded, and he led her to a room a few doors down.

“Is there anything I can get for you, miss?”

“No, thank you. I just need a moment alone.” She slipped into the quiet sanctuary and instantly felt more at peace.

A library was the last place anyone would ever come to in the middle of a ball. It was a trick her mother had used when she first debuted in society and needed a moment alone. It was also how her father and mother had met. They had talked for a full evening and missed the entire ball. It had been love at first sight.

Just thinking of that story brought a smile to her lips and calmed her racing heart. She wiped at her eyes, hiding any evidence of her tears that threatened to cling to her lashes. She shouldn’t have let Adelaide get to her, but the girl knew just how to hurt someone like her, where her confidence was at its weakest. At least they would only be here a few months. She could stomach that, couldn’t she?

For Father’s sake, I must.

The library door opened suddenly, and Rayne spun around, heart pounding. She feared Adelaide had followed her here, meaning to finish what she’d started.