The Lady and Her Treasured Earl (The Revelstoke Legacy Book 2)

by Lynda Hurst

  If Margaret hoped that no one had seen Frederick with her, that hope was effectively dashed when Lady Celia chirped, “Was that your suitor we saw you with earlier? Why didn’t he stay so we could all be introduced?”

  Margaret inwardly groaned while Jackson glowered at her as though she were to blame for the earlier scene. Thankfully, Jackson rescued her from answering by stating, “I do believe I hear they are calling for contestants for a friendly match. Lady Margaret, I believe that group over there means you to go to them.”

  Without a glance at the group he referred to, Margaret hastily made her excuses, bid them her farewells, and swiftly made her way to the group of archers with Faust and Janet keeping pace behind her. But before they parted, Margaret could not mistake the look on Jackson’s face for anything but masked fury. Knowing she hadn’t done anything wrong to make him look so fierce, she deduced the reason to lie reasonably well within Frederick’s lap.

  Since Margaret was now some distance from them, Lady Celia pointed out, “Odd that she didn’t stay and chat longer. I would have liked to get to know her better.”

  If Jackson had it his way, he would have preferred they had never been introduced at all, but Fate had a not-so-amusing way of going against his wishes. “You will, dear. At the Haversham Ball tonight,” he said, placatingly. “Speaking of which, I’ll need to escort you back soon so you will have time to prepare for it. Shall we?”

  Leading her back to her maid and carriage and seeing them safely on their way, Jackson took Mary’s arm in his as they made their way back to their own carriage. Walking together in silence, Jackson’s thoughts tumbled round and round, trying to make sense of what he had seen earlier.

  He felt, rather than saw, his sister’s intense scowl aimed in his direction, and exasperated, drew out, “What is it that has you frowning so hard at me?”

  Shrugging a slender shoulder, Mary replied, “I’m afraid it’s you, this time, brother. You’re thinking so hard, it makes my brain hurt just by watching you these past few minutes. Penny?”

  His twin was always privy to his moods and was just as nosy to boot. Sighing, he decided he would tell her so that it would be the end to anymore meddling on her part.

  “All right. It bothers me that Frederick has shown up here at all and he obviously has Margaret in his sights. What do you suppose his intentions are? Doesn’t she know his disregard for anyone that shares her surname?”

  Knowing her brother as well as she did, she answered instead with a question of her own, “Where is this coming from? You’ve seen how they bickered. Even from a distance, anyone could see she wasn’t encouraging him nor was she the least bit friendly with him. As for Frederick, I can’t speak for the man as I barely know his character.”

  “Faith has told us the stories. I don’t believe a man can suddenly change the core of his character over a long period of time, and Frederick can’t have suddenly turned saint since his exile.”

  “Would you care to know what I think?”

  “No, but you’ll most likely tell me anyway.”

  Swatting him for that remark, she went on, “I think you’re jealous.”

  “That’s preposterous. I’m never jealous.”

  “So says the boy who wanted to run away and join a traveling troupe of playactors just so he could forever be with ‘Desdemona’.”

  “Othello was a great play, and I was just a boy then.”

  “Ah, but the point was that you were once jealous of the man who wanted to marry the actress, and you were making plans to run away from home to be with her.”

  “Gah, please beg off reminding me of these ungracious sides to my character. I’ve grown much since then, in both mind and body. Now that I am a man, I find jealousy to be beneath me.”

  Dubiously, she raised a brow at him, and said, “For all that you protest against it, the fact remains that you ignored Lady Celia for the rest of our stroll when you first sighted Margaret with Frederick.”

  Checking back, he had to admit that Mary was right. He had given no thought to Lady Celia at all; all of his thoughts and emotions were centered on the one person who arrested his attention as soon as he caught sight of her: Margaret.

  Rather than hashing out the matter further, he lapsed back into silence as they found their carriage, where he allowed Mary ramble on about the evening’s ball as they ambled through London streets back to their Mayfair townhouse. Yet again, he had found his iron control gradually slipping with each successive meeting with the bewitching minx but was surprised to find that it exhilarated him as much as the woman who inspired it.

  14

  Later That Evening—The Haversham Ball

  He watched from a corner of the ballroom, observing the crowd in its entirety. It wasn’t a far stretch to imagine he was objectively examining creatures at a menagerie; different species clustered together in the same environs, each reacting in dissimilar fashion dependent upon their social bearing.

  Interspersed through the throng, were the peacocks, bright in their plumage; their every action, their every word was calculated to beckon and entice.

  Off to the side, enviously watching the partnered dancing, were the shy mice, newly introduced to the societal scene. Their ever-vigilant mamas and their matchmaking efforts reminded him of the slyness of the fox; they were always on the lookout for some gullible gentleman to fall into their orchestrated parson’s trap.

  No, it was a certain breed he tended to look out for in particular. It was the type that helped feed his unholy need for the unnatural entertainment in which his sheep-like followers demanded more of. For him, the meek and mild he sought proved good fodder for their games, since they always proved themselves inconstant and unworthy of the purity they claimed to uphold.

  It was no hardship for him to guide one of their number to lure out the next lamb, whom society encouraged to guard its snow-white purity. He had found that a subset of those lambs who suffered loneliness and craved any male attention were the ideal candidates for their games.

  Any tender feelings he might have had for them were quashed long ago by grandparents who had no love for him. Though he coveted the love of a mother, he was told time and time again that it was an impossibility, for his mother loved nothing more than herself and money. Being reminded constantly through his early years that his mother trapped his father into marriage, seeking only his wealth, made him realize over the years that women were false creatures underneath the trappings of purity and grace.

  The rest of his childhood saw him under the care of his paternal grandparents for he was only a boy of seven when both of his parents expired suddenly with no explanation for their deaths. Then at the age of fifteen, he was orphaned once again when both paternal grandparents mysteriously died in their sleep.

  With his father’s wealth, he was able to enroll into reputable schools, seeking out what held his interest. During a classics lecture, he had come across the myth of Artemis and Orion and was fascinated by the parallels he saw in it, matching his own life and his beliefs.

  Like Orion, he had been betrayed by a woman whose semblance of purity hid a cruel and selfish interior. And also like Orion, he had been condemned for believing himself worthy of admiration and respect by his own flesh and blood.

  In his experience, there was no escaping the duality of women: coquettish and flirtatious on the outside, but scheming and manipulative on the inside. Just like his mother. Not one single woman he knew proved herself to be other than what he expected: inconstant and hiding behind a false exterior.

  Having been disappointed many times over by such women, there was every opportunity to seek revenge for the slights he had been served by them. Yet he was still eternally optimistic that he would find that one female with whom he could share his passion for his work, his drive, and his secrets.

  His presence at the Haversham ball tonight served a two-fold purpose: firstly, to seek the next target for their next full moon meeting; and secondly, to observe the one woman for
whom he had been holding high hopes as a worthy partner.

  As he watched, she currently skirted the ballroom floor with her latest dance partner, none more radiant and intelligent as he knew her to be. Their letters were prime examples of her sharp mind, something he valued much more than beauty or societal connections that their society prized so highly.

  But with the newest partner claiming her hand for the waltz, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, recognizing the male instantly. Jealousy instantly bloomed within his heart at the sight of her being swept up in the other man’s arms, killing his ideal of her with snow-white purity and constancy. Only because of their long-standing professional relationship was he going to give her the chance to prove herself worthy of him by what she would do next.

  15

  The Haversham ball was a huge success in that everyone who was anyone had come here tonight. Margaret had arrived with Devlin and Faith, no longer requiring an extra chaperone now that Faith was married to her own brother and served quite nicely as one. Jeffrey had met her by the stairs after they had been announced, and since then, had not been too far from each other’s side since.

  After the events of earlier that morning, Margaret was reluctant to stray far from Jeffrey’s side. Upon arriving home after her archery exercises, she promptly spilled all details pertaining to her chance meeting with Frederick to both Devlin and Faith. Still uncertain as to the reasons why Frederick was pestering Margaret, Devlin had advised, “Best to steer clear of the man until we know what he’s up to. Margaret, it also wouldn’t hurt if you stayed close to one of us tonight. No venturing off into dark corners.”

  In reply, she had harrumphed. “Have you ever known me to seek such places? I hoped you would think I had better sense than to put myself in such danger.”

  Too late, she had realized she had misspoken when Devlin had looked at her questioningly, bringing to mind her foolish but courageous stunt two years ago where she had willingly stepped into the path of a loaded pistol. “Er, I mean, it wouldn’t cross my mind to meet danger in the dark recesses of a ballroom.”

  “Good,” her brother had replied with finality. “We will be close by before anything untoward can happen.”

  And so, the ball itself had no incidences for the ton to even whisper about, with nothing out of the ordinary occurring other than the punch gradually becoming weaker and the dancers crowding every spare inch of the dance floor.

  Having an accomplished dance partner such as Jeffrey was what made dancing the waltz completely enjoyable. It was quite freeing the way a worthy partner expertly led oneself about the dance floor, trusting in him to guide the way. Margaret never felt more alive than when dancing a waltz, as she gave herself wholly to the whirling and twirling, in step with the skilled feet of her partner. The lilting music exquisitely produced by the string quartet in its three-fourth time signature added to the magic of the movement, making her lose herself in it.

  Being shielded by dancers all around them, Margaret didn’t think herself in any danger while in Jeffrey’s arms or within eyesight of both Devlin and Faith across the floor. So, it was really too bad that her current dance was cut off midway by none other than Frederick Revelstoke.

  He tapped Jeffrey’s shoulder, and cheekily asked, “May I cut in? I’m a longtime friend of the family and haven’t seen Lady Margaret in ever so long.”

  Jeffrey, a little put out that their waltz was interrupted, had the good grace and manners to remember they were in public and replied to Margaret’s horror, “Yes, of course.” And he stepped aside to allow the insufferable man to sweep her back into the waltz, in time to the music.

  Across the floor, she saw Faith’s rounded eyes at seeing who she was with, but lost sight of her when Frederick swept her into a turn that hid Faith from her.

  “You loathsome man! What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hiss, despite the curious looks aimed her way from the other dancers.

  “I told you I was going to claim you. In a waltz,” he finished, leaving a beat too long between both sentences.

  “If this is your idea of a flirtation, I am not having any of it,” she said pointedly, avoiding his eyes while smiling at the dancers who were now giving them questioning looks. In the next turn of the waltz, Margaret caught sight of not only Faith, but Devlin, Jackson, and Mary were now assembled together watching her helplessly.

  “Little kitten, haven’t you heard anything I’ve said to you? Revenge is my motivation for everything I’m doing. And if your esteemed brother is watching, I believe I’ve found a delicious way to ruin him through you.” Snapping her head back up at him, she glimpsed the icy look in his eyes despite the warm, playful tone he infused into his words.

  Steel permeated her spine at the threat, and she snapped, “In a pig’s eye, you will.”

  And she drew her slippered foot back to kick him squarely in the shin. Out of surprise, more than hurt, he grunted loudly enough for the dancers closest to them to round on them with their stares. He let go of Margaret, who gladly stepped away from him.

  Smiling widely, she told the dancers, “I made a misstep and crushed his toes on accident. It’s the dreadful heat in here that had me close to fainting.”

  Jackson appeared at her side suddenly to say, “I beg your pardon, Revelstoke, but Faith has asked me to escort Margaret back to her.” To Margaret, he said, “She has refreshments there waiting for you.” Over her head, she was sure Jackson was giving Frederick a proper setdown with just a glance.

  Bowing her head to Frederick mockingly, she said, “Will you excuse me? My sister is waiting.” Before Frederick could utter a reply, Jackson whisked Margaret off the dance floor to where Devlin and Faith awaited.

  Between keeping a smile affixed to his face for the benefit of those around them and practically dragging Margaret across the floor, it took every ounce of effort within Jackson to keep his temper in check.

  Although she hadn’t let Frederick see, Margaret was beyond surprised to have Jackson come to her rescue when he did. However, despite her gratitude towards him for his efforts, she believed that his iron grip on her arm could use a little less iron and a little more kid-glove treatment. With her voice at a volume only his ears could reach, she said, “Jackson, let me go. You’re holding on too tight.”

  He let go of her wrist abruptly. And not a moment too soon as they had already reached Faith’s side. Judging by both her countenance and Devlin’s, they were just as shocked at seeing Frederick’s appearance as she had been earlier on the dance floor. Belatedly, she noticed that their little group also included Jeffrey, Mary, and Lady Celia, whose own face was slightly frowning at Jackson, then a second later that same small frown was directed at her.

  Before anyone could utter a word, Margaret assured them all, “Everything’s fine. I was just about to give Frederick a proper setdown for his ungentlemanly conduct when Jackson came to my rescue.”

  However, the very gentleman of whom she spoke materialized at her side, looked down at her, but addressed their group as a whole. “My apologies for startling everyone. I did promise you that waltz, but before I could approach it turned out your dance card was already full. You’ll forgive me for cutting in when I did, as there would have been no opportunity to do so otherwise.”

  Margaret watched as Faith paled at hearing her long-lost brother speak. “Frederick,” Faith began.

  Frederick’s head snapped up at his name being uttered so familiarly and caught sight of the sister he hadn’t seen in over eight years. “Faithie, is it really you?” His smile told Margaret that he was genuinely happy to see her, which seemed to confuse Faith as everyone close to her knew her memories of her older brothers were anything but tender or sweet.

  When Faith didn’t answer, Frederick pressed, “You can’t have forgotten me in only eight years. I had never forgotten you, Erica, or Ethan. In fact, James and I—”

  Devlin bodily shielded his wife from Frederick, and said stonily, “I can’t have you upsetting my wife, Revels
toke. Perhaps when we are away from prying eyes, we can have this conversation in a more private setting.”

  Frederick frowned heavily at Devlin’s interference, and angrily spat, “Prestonridge, your officiousness knows no bounds as ever, I see. Can’t I have at least a word with the one sister I have had the least contact with?”

  Knowing they were causing a scene in the midst of a crowded ballroom, Faith donned her duchess persona and imperiously intoned around her husband’s imposing figure, “Frederick, if you so choose, I will be at home tomorrow to receive a proper visit with my prodigal brother. A ballroom isn’t the proper setting for just such a reunion.”

  Rather than adding to his brother-in-law’s ire, Devlin remained silent but stood fixed to the floor, keeping himself between the two Revelstoke siblings.

  Looking left to right, Frederick realized that many stares were drawn to them, and he hedged a little before answering. “All right, little Faithie. You can be sure I will call on you tomorrow at your suggestion.”