Upon a Midnight Dream (London Fairy Tales #1)(15)

Whoever that deuced Mrs. Peabody was, his life had been absolute torture in the months following his return to polite society. It was no wonder his patience was wearing thin. Two beacons of society had fallen because of the curse, and now he was in the middle of nowhere trying to woo a woman who danced alone in meadows! Not that he should be casting disparagement upon her sanity, since only hours ago he had asked his horse for help.

By his weak calculations, he hadn’t any time to lose. The girl wanted him to try and so he would, but if he failed…

“Blast,” he said aloud. He could not fail—would not fail. It wasn’t an option for him to even consider.

Stefan heard his valet enter and rose from his seat. “Alfred?”

“Your Grace?” He made quick work pulling out Stefan’s dressing gown and robe.

“Have you any expertise with women?”

Alfred paused his fingers on the soft silk of the dressing gown, seemingly frozen in place. “If this is about that godmother, my apologies for not warning you of her manner, sir. It is rumored that she’s taken a mother hen approach to Lady Hartwell. If I had known she would strike you, I would have surely given you warning.”

Stefan waved off his valet’s excuse. “No, it isn’t about the godmother, though I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes when she raised that blasted cane for the third time. I am inquiring so I may…” He lifted his eyes heavenward and took a deep breath to finish his sentence. “…Woo the girl,” he finished quietly.

“You want to do what with the girl, sir?”

“Woo her,” he said again.

Alfred stared at him long and hard. “Forgive me, Your Grace. Did you say you wish to woo her?”

“That is what I said.” Though by the look of shock in his valet’s eyes, he desperately wished he could take it back and forget the whole conversation ever took place.

“Woo.” Alfred repeated.

“Yes, woo,” Stefan confirmed, tiring of his valet’s obvious amusement. He knew Alfred well enough to speak plainly to him, but he didn’t expect him to find the whole situation so amusing.

“I believe ladies enjoy flowers, Your Grace.” Alfred began helping Stefan undress. “There is also a rumor floating around in polite society that they enjoy amusing conversation and compliments.”

“Stop mocking me, Alfred.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Alfred continued helping him undress until he was ready for bed. The silence was deafening.

Muttering an oath, Stefan looked back at Alfred. “Flowers, you say?” He scratched his head in thought. Whatever happened to women who were easily seduced by lust-filled looks and hasty advances? Oh yes, they were all back in London while he was trapped here in an ancient castle with nothing, save a spinster and Lady Rosalind to keep him company. He refused to count the servants, mainly because Alfred was putting him in a devilish bad mood.

“Would you like me to acquire some flowers for you, Your Grace? I believe I heard talk of a rose garden on the estate. Though in winter, I doubt any of them are in bloom. An orangery perhaps?”

Stefan thought on it. The last thing he needed was to propose with a bouquet of dead flowers in hand. Surely Rosalind would not find the irony at all funny. “No, Alfred. It is the lady’s desire that I sweat and toil for her. Therefore, I will pick the flowers, sing the sonnets, go down on one knee and pour out my bleeding heart.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” Alfred smiled and bowed. “Will that be all?”

“Yes, by all means, leave me to my devices, so I can plan my seduction.”

“Woo, sir.”

Stefan paused. “What was that?”

“Woo,” Alfred repeated. “To seduce implies you mean to cheat. To woo implies fair play where both parties are involved.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.” Stefan grumbled. He needed sleep if he was to start this little adventure on the morrow. The trouble was, he had never courted a lady before and hadn’t a clue how to go about it. Flowers and compliments seemed to be forced. And with Rosalind’s father dead, he hadn’t a man to ask permission to court. It seemed he truly was left to his own devices, and he wasn’t entirely certain that was a wise course of action. After all, he had only been back in London for six months, and during that time hadn’t once pursued a woman. The last woman he had even thought about had been Elaina. But that was before the bitterness of her husband’s illness and the loneliness of her bed changed her.

His father would not have been pleased by the turn of the events. It seemed the man knew what he was doing when he sent Stefan away, though he was the heir and titled son.

The idea jolted his memory. Lady Rosalind and her mother were obviously still living in their residences. Just whom had the title passed down to upon the late earl’s death? He lay down and told himself to remember to ask Alfred in the morning.

****



Rosalind woke early the next morning after a fitful night of sleep. The only thing that sounded even minutely relaxing was a cup of hot tea in her father’s old study.

It didn’t help that it was her birthday today and nothing had changed. The snow still fell lightly over the estate, and the house seemed as glum as ever. She could only hope that the weather would let up enough for her to take another afternoon stroll. How depressing that the only entertainments to look forward to were walks in the cold dead snow. It could be worse, she scolded herself.