The Christmas Countess. Adrienne Basso

so she would drop the notion of meeting the little girl altogether? Or maybe he could find another means to dissuade her interest?

      A smile lit his face as an idea formed in his mind. There were few society events of note at this time of year, since many of the members of the haut ton had left London for their country estates. Those who stayed behind would be planning Christmas celebrations, but any holiday events would not take place for several weeks.

      Yet he was sure with careful planning he could scare up a sizeable crowd for a society dinner party. His mother would enjoy the opportunity to entertain. Perhaps even Charlotte might be persuaded to join them.

      But more importantly, a social evening would mask the true intent of meeting Miss Rebecca Tremaine and, if he were very lucky, intimidate her with his wealth, power and position at the same time. Scaring her off would quickly end this problem to his satisfaction. Feeling far more in control now that he had a reasonable course of action to follow, Cameron stormed from the room to search for his mother, eager to set his plan into motion.

      Her new satin evening slippers were silent on the stone steps as Rebecca climbed to the front door of the Earl of Hampton’s town home. With each step she took, she clung tightly to her brother’s arm, her fingers flexing with nerves. Daniel lifted the brass knocker, but before he could bang it, the door swung open.

      “Sir, Madame.”

      “Good evening. Mr. Daniel Tremaine and his sister, Miss Rebecca Tremaine. We are expected.”

      The expressionless butler bowed, then stood aside to allow them entrance to the vast foyer. Servants rushed forward to take their outer garments; a footman wearing a powdered white wig, dressed in black and gold livery, stood at the ready, waiting to escort them upstairs.

      “I thought you said this was to be a casual dinner party,” Rebecca whispered to her brother.

      “That was how the invitation was worded.” Daniel snorted. “I suspect part of this might be meant to impress or more likely intimidate us. Then again, the nobility never need much of an excuse to showcase their wealth and waste their money.”

      “Daniel, please.”

      Rebecca placed her hand on her brother’s forearm. She knew well her brother’s opinion of the majority of men in society. Vain, foolish wastrels who neither understood nor appreciated the value of honest work, who lived purely for their own pleasures. A blight on the British landscape of industrial success, he often remarked, and a disgrace to the ingenuity and hard work of so many others around the world.

      “Sorry.” Daniel lowered his head contritely. “I shall try to be on my best behavior this evening.”

      “You will succeed at being utterly charming, well bred and congenial to one and all,” she admonished, feeling a small measure of relief when Daniel nodded in agreement.

      Taking her brother’s arm, they followed the liveried servant. As they ascended the winding staircase to the second story, Rebecca’s eyes darted anxiously to the third floor, her head turning quickly in all directions.

      “I doubt you will catch a glimpse of the little girl tonight, Becca. Try to relax.”

      Rebecca let out a frustrated sigh. Of course her brother was right. The girl, who had been named Lily, would be safely ensconced in the nursery at this time of night, most likely already asleep.

      Rebecca let out a deep sigh, hoping to steady her nerves. It had been an agonizing few weeks since discovering the truth about her baby girl and her need to see the child had grown with each passing day. Daniel continued urging her to have patience, but it was becoming harder and harder.

      As soon as Daniel was able to ascertain that the Earl of Hampton was in residence at his London home, they had journeyed to the city. Foolishly, Rebecca thought she would be able to see Lily the moment they arrived. Fortunately, Daniel had anticipated that it would hardly be easy to make contact with the child and had formulated a more realistic approach to the problem.

      Knowing they would be staying in the city for several weeks, he had leased a lovely mansion in the fashionable Mayfair district. It was far more pleasant than residing at a hotel, but the beautiful surroundings and interesting sights of the neighborhood had been lost on Rebecca. All she cared about was her daughter, all she thought about was finally meeting, and holding, the little girl.

      Rebecca had been exceedingly distressed when Daniel recounted the details of his initial meeting with the earl, but hope had blossomed when a few days later the invitation to dinner had arrived. She felt certain if she made a favorable impression the earl’s objections would evaporate. Then she would at long last achieve her greatest desire and set eyes on her child for the first time.

      They entered the drawing room and Rebecca was very glad of the support of her brother’s strong arm. The room was filled with a glittering array of people, all beautifully and expensively dressed. They were gathered in small groups, drinks in hand. Conversation was animated, laughter frequent.

      For one dizzying moment Rebecca felt as if she had just set foot on the moon. Nothing in her simple life had prepared her for this sort of event. Social gatherings where she had been raised in Taunton were far more simple, casual and understated. In that instant, her lack of society experience and sophistication hit her hard. How would she ever handle this evening without making a fool of herself?

      “They are just people, Rebecca. No better than we,” Daniel muttered calmly, as if sensing her sudden insecurity.

      For all his vocal disdain of this glittering world, her brother seemed remarkably calm and secure when set among it. Taking her cue from him, Rebecca attempted to place the perfect expression of nonchalant friendliness upon her face.

      “Mr. Tremaine. Good evening.”

      “Lord Hampton.”

      Rebecca battled a surge of panic and lowered her gaze. She had been so preoccupied with bolstering her courage that she had missed the approach of the earl.

      “This must be your sister.”

      Rebecca lifted her eyes and the pleasant, generic greeting faltered on her lips when she looked at the earl.

      Openly looked at him. As if she were struck mute, as if she had never before met a gentleman until that moment.

      His eyes held her. Dark brows arched over hazel eyes, accentuated by thick dark lashes. His nose was straight, the nostrils slightly flared above a most sensuous mouth. His firm jaw and strong cheekbones completed the picture of pure masculine beauty.

      His long, leanly muscled body was clad in formal black evening clothes, stark white shirt, intricately tied cravat and a black, silk waistcoat.

      A tremor ran down her spine. Though she had vowed she would not be, Rebecca felt intimidated by him. She had met only minor nobility before, but there was an aura about the earl that proclaimed him stronger, more powerful, more dangerous than other men, those who held titles and those who did not. He carried himself with masculine arrogance and nearly unnerving personal command.

      She knew she must cease staring at him. It was abominably rude, bordering on crass. But then, he was staring at her. After all, turnabout was fair play.

      “May I present my sister, Miss Rebecca Tremaine.”

      “I am pleased to welcome you into my home, Miss Tremaine.”

      His low voice sent a peculiar wash of heat through her veins, making it difficult to execute a smooth curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. I am delighted to be here.”

      An older woman, wearing an enormous diamond choker, bustled between them, giving them a friendly, appraising glance.

      “My mother, the dowager countess,” the earl said. “This is Mr. Daniel Tremaine and his sister, Miss Rebecca.”

      “A pleasure to meet you both.” The older woman smiled pleasantly and Rebecca was impressed by the tone of sincerity in her voice, especially given the thick, ripe tension that filled the air.

      She