by Vlad Kahany
“Well! If you are so careless about it at such a young age, you must have a pot of money. Or two!” Lady Mildred cackled.
“Or three,” Charles echoed.
“You have quite a way with ladies, I hear,” she continued, studying Lord Ashbee. “What was it?”—she pressed her forefinger to her cheek playfully as if remembering—“A rascal. A shark. A dandy. A devil. Though I don’t notice any of it yet.” She winked at him, which made him chuckle. “I did hear that Lady Estee was infatuated with you a couple of years back. It was quite a scandal, as far as I remember. With her husband being a Tory, in high office and all that. They say you don’t mind ruining a good reputation.” She gave Lord Ashbee a cunning smile. “You see, Lord Ashbee, I am an avid gossiper. It’s one of many things that I indulge myself with.”
“So, you like gambling with other people’s reputations by voicing your opinions and passing the rumors around.” He chuckled.
“Ah! I don’t approve or disapprove. I couldn’t care less one way or another. I simply observe. The beauty of dramatic events is in the surprise of its outcome. Like I said. Having money gives one the convenience of not caring about reputation. Your own or anyone else’s.”
“Money or self-worth. If you ask me, people who are afraid to lose a good reputation are not worth having one.”
“So true!”
“On the other hand, an intelligent person has no preference in a good or bad reputation. They know how to use either to their advantage.”
“How refreshing!” Lady Mildred exclaimed. “How is it that you’ve known Charles for so many years, yet, I only hear about your sharp mind and never get a chance to enjoy it in person. Lord Ashbee”—she leaned over and covered his hand with her heavy palm looking at him with a sparkle in her eyes—“if I were four or so decades younger, I would fall madly in love with you. Right now, though, I feel that we are going to have a wonderful time during your visit.”
Lord Ashbee nodded and smiled, pleased. He wasn’t sure about ‘a wonderful time,’ but he did enjoy good company, and Lady Mildred seemed like a good rival to his favorite Lady Agatha.
—————
The next morning they took a ride to the Chapmans’ estate for a cricket game. The beautiful mansion with a gorgeous green lawn hosted a gathering of thirty or so people, including James Yvense that Lord Ashbee got introduced to.
It surprised Lord Ashbee how young Sir Yvense was—a man in his late twenties, a bachelor, tall, strongly built, and quite handsome. Friendly and attentive, there was nevertheless some impatience in his manner as if he was fascinated with life and tried to do everything with exaggerated eagerness.
“He is quite a character,” Lady Mildred explained, “as if that trouble he had gotten into gave him another taste of life. It is a delight to be in his company.”
The cricket game was quite fun, though it was meant to be pure entertainment rather than competition. The guests seemed to know each other very well, were at ease with each other, quite informal and playful, and it amused Lord Ashbee. So refreshing after London’s snobbiness and wit competition! While most guests made a point of chatting up Charles and Lord Ashbee, inquiring about the latest London gossips and making jokes about them, James Yvense was quite distant.
“Where is his sister?” Lord Ashbee asked Lady Mildred.
“I don’t know. Usually, she takes part in these gatherings. But sure we will see her at the dance party. She is quite an interesting creature!” Lady Mildred smiled. “You might find her a good rival to your wit,” she gave him a you-know-what-I-mean look.
Now Lord Ashbee was curious, but the thought left him quite quickly as he got involved in another conversation. He was an observant man, but that morning never notice that Sir Yvense often threw strange glances his way as if he studied him carefully.
CHAPTER 4
Sir Yvense’s estate was quite charming. It was an old but very well-kept Palladian-style villa surrounded by neat gardens and walkways, flowerbeds, and a beautifully decorated terrace in the back.
The dance party did not promise anything extraordinary, but Lord Ashbee and Charles were quite delighted at being in the new environment.
“If anything, there are business opportunities,” Lord Ashbee said before they left Lady Mildred’s.
“Oh, indeed,” Lady Mildred commented. “And with your business reputation, you might find it is easier to find new business opportunities where people are less spoiled by them.”
“It is always the case. Entrepreneurship is like a snowball. Alas, it goes the same for failure as it does for success.”
“Just try to enjoy yourself, Ashbee.” Charles waved him off, and they did just that.
The drawing-room of Sir Yvense’s estate where the party took place was quite big, with plants and flowers, the beautiful antique chandelier and lit up sconces, beautifully decorated, and of various shades. The room opened into the back terrace that overlooked another garden decorated with candle shades, and as the day gave way to darkness, created the effect of the gigantic fireflies.
A hundred or so people attended.
“It is not a ball,” Lady Mildred said, “nothing you are used to in London. Rather, a small dance gathering. You will find out that, unlike in big cities, in smaller country circles, the dances are aimed at bringing a number of people together to catch up on the news, discuss business ventures, but mostly, drinking and eating. Yes, Lord Ashbee, we are quite less conservative about the proper etiquette here. It is, what one may call in London, just a big party.”
Lord Ashbee and Charles were quite fine with that, relieved at not having to adhere to the strict social rules and etiquette. Immediately, they plunged into never-ending conversations with the people Lady Mildred introduced them to. Occasionally, Lord Ashbee glanced over the room—the groups that congregated around, the few whirling dancers in the center, the modest music band that played with the ambition of a royal orchestra. The gathering was quite marvelous, though lacking in the “dance ball” sense of it. The food and drinks served by the servants were surprisingly good. The women were fine though trying too hard for attention. If the guests posed for a picture, they could have very well passed off as a London crowd. Except there was something about them—the lack of usual city vanity and arrogance, the more nonchalant manners, the general air quite more cheerful and relaxed than that of a regular city party.
Lord Ashbee was an expert in people. He had several estates, though he never spent enough time in the country to learn about its life. Why was it that he thought the country was full of uncouth bumpkins? Why was it that one from the city always thought of the periphery as that of a lesser sort?
“Lord Ashbee, I hope you enjoy our modest country gathering,” Sir Yvense said with a shrewd smile when he greeted him.
The tone! These folks talked about the city residents with more curiosity but also with a condescending undertone as if there was something about the country and land business that one knew only if one lived there.
Lady Mildred constantly introduced him and Charles to new people, never-ending rotation of faces, smiles, laughter, occasional leers, and the whispering and giggling of the ladies. Charles’s aunt knew how to work the crowd and took pride in hosting “the two of the finest gentlemen of London elite” as she phrased it. Charles enjoyed himself and the company of ladies, always in rotation. His enthusiasm grew proportionally to the amount of champagne consumed as he chirped away about London and how boring it was compared to the beauty of the countryside. What a flirt! Yet, Lord Ashbee felt bored. Entertained, refreshed from the city scene, yet, unable to find a single subject that would capture his curiosity long enough to pull him out of his usual indifference.
It was then that he heard a laugh that resonated in his mind with the memories that had haunted him for the past year. He turned his head to see where it came from and saw her.
And it’s as if he got thunderstruck.
The world around seemed to sink into a vacuum and expa
nd, leaving just that one person across the room.
At first, he thought it was an illusion. One of those figments of the imagination when you see someone in the crowd and it reminds you of a person you know.
She was breathtaking. The hair, twisted into separate strands that were loosely pinned, with the rest of her brown hair gathered on the back of her head. The flowers and the strands of gold in it. The faint trace of powder and rouge on her face. The beautiful dress made of expensive fabric and exquisitely embroidered. The shoulders and collarbone that were bare but the décolletage not too low and in a modest fashion. Her gloved hands moved gracefully as if she was practicing a dance, and her chin was tilted slightly upward, showing off her beautiful neck. The manner with which she moved was polished and refined. A fascinating beauty, graceful and delicate. But no accessory could hide the traces of the young woman he knew.
May.
He felt the blood rush into his head.
Unable to move, his eyes burrowed into her across the room.
Magic?
Illusion?
Was his bored mind playing tricks?
But when she laughed once again, and her eyes scanned the crowd and found him—she froze, and their eyes locked.
Unmistakable!
Guests talked around them, joked, laughed as May and Lord Ashbee stood on the opposite sides of the room gazing at each other, a year of waiting between them.
An older woman pulled her by the arm, out of her trance, saying something, as Lord Ashbee felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You have to admit—she is a beauty,” Charles said.
“Who?” Lord Ashbee asked without taking his eyes off May.
“Lady Yvense,” Charles nodded in the direction of the young woman across the room.
“Is this who she is?” Lord Ashbee stared like one under a spell.
“Yes, Mary Ann Yvense. I told you.”
Mary Ann Yvense.
May.
Lord Ashbee wanted to laugh. His lips curled into a smirk, or a smile, or whatever it was that reflected the feelings that sent shivers down his body.
Life played a joke on him.
Or May did.
He stood transfixed as she walked slowly in his direction, smiling to the person chirping away into her ear and nodding to the guests.
Charles leaned closer to his friend.
“Here she comes.”
She floated gracefully through the crowd and smiled at Lord Ashbee as she approached.
There was joy in her eyes, as well as something else.
Apology?
Triumph?
Fright?
He couldn’t tell. Was she afraid he would betray her secret? He would never do so. That he was angry? He was shocked more than anything. That he would give away their previous acquaintance? He wasn’t that cruel.
“Lady Yvense!” Charles exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting for days to introduce you to my friend”—he kissed her hand—“Lord Ashbee. The finest of London. Probably the most notorious, too!” Charles laughed in sync with the lady that accompanied May.
“Lord Ashbee,” May said softly with a smile, not taking her eyes off his, and he gracefully kissed her hand, squeezing it a bit too tight.
This voice!
How he missed it!
“Lady…Yvense,” he said with an intentional pause and smiled in response.
God, she was beautiful!
The dress, the jewelry, the hair, the light traces of powder on her face—she was a different person, but no elegance could compete with the light that shone through the eyes. Hers seized upon his.
The eyes! The grey-blue of the spring water, almost translucent, as if you could look into her soul. They were drawing him in. His shock was mixed with fascination. As if some strange force was pulling him towards her, and he wanted to kiss her, stroke her face, feel her lips on his. Suddenly, the world seemed brighter and life more exciting with the presence of May in the room. He stood gazing at her, unable to find the right words.
“Notorious, you say?” she finally said, turning to Charles. “He seems perfectly charming. Charles, I haven’t seen you in ages!” she tried to switch the topic.
“Yes, indeed. You look more beautiful than ever!” Charles beamed and turned to his friend. “I’ve been telling my friend, Lord Ashbee, about you. There is no other woman in this part of England that has as much charm and wit as you.”
“You flatter me, of course.” She smiled shyly.
Ah, that shy look Lord Ashbee knew so well! His heart jolted with joy as he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“And there is no other man in London,” Charles continued, “who has as much wisdom and insight into the nature of humankind as my friend here. But no worries, he’s come with the best intentions of enjoying the country setting for a while. London, you know, can get suffocating after a while.” He beamed again.
“Ah!” Lady Yvense turned to look at Lord Ashbee with a new glint in her eyes. “Wise men are good at concealing their intentions,” she said with a subtle smile.
“Just like women of extraordinary beauty are good at concealing their past,” Lord Ashbee said with a smile that matched hers.
That flicker in her eyes again!
Someone distracted Charles, and May was left alone with Lord Ashbee.
“Lord Ashbee?” she said softly, nodding.
“Lady… Yvense?” he echoed, his eyes piercing hers, and after a pause, added. “I missed you… May.”
The words flushed her cheeks.
“How is London?” she asked, turning to stand on Lord Ashbee’s side so as not to look at him.
“Are we going to make small talk now?”
She didn’t answer.
“You could’ve told me back then,” he said.
“I couldn’t.”
“I could’ve found a better place for you.”
“Huh,” she echoed, keeping her eyes on the crowded room. “You know better places? That was how you met me in the first place.”
“You could have told me before you left. Could have sent a message.”
“What does it matter? You got your money worth, didn’t you?”
“Ah, May”—he chuckled—“Still so sweet. Trying to pretend you don’t care.”
“I do. Oh, I do. I missed you more than anything, Ray.”
She said his name, and it flashed at him with all that it used to mean. He turned abruptly towards her, his eyes burning with intense emotions.
“Then why didn’t you find me?” he said louder, taking a step towards her, and a flash of panic swept over her face.
“Please, Ray. Not here!” She pulled a hesitant smile and looked around as Lord Ashbee looked away with a smirk.
The crowd was already drunk and happy. The music even louder. The sound of popping corks and a loud cheer came from the other side of the room as Lord Ashbee’s eyes swept across the crowd. But nothing could distract him from the overwhelming feeling of wanting to touch May.
Charles and Sir Yvense approached.
“I hope you are not bored yet, Lord Ashbee,” James Yvense said. “It is nothing like London, but it has its charms.” He smiled and exchanged glances with May.
“Lord Ashbee has a wide variety of interests,” Charles interjected. “He’s been quite bored with London lately.”
He turned to greet a short, plump, unpleasant-looking man who threw himself at May, grabbing her hands in both of his, kissing them fiercely and blabbering something non-stop. She laughed joyfully.
Sir Yvense studied Lord Ashbee for a minute, observing his tense gaze on May.
“We should hunt one of these days,” he said. “I hear you hunted in Africa and have quite a collection of trophies.”
“Indeed.” Lord Ashbee nodded with a distracted look. “It would be my pleasure.”
Sir Yvense gave the man an intense stare and nodded at May.
“You should save my sister from the company of that man before he puts her in an irri
tated mood,” he said with a smile of a conspirator.
Lord Ashbee chuckled. “I will do so gladly.”
“And, Lord Ashbee?” James Yvense added and leaned closer to his ear. “If you upset or try to scandalize my sister again, I promise I will find a way to ruin you.”
He patted him on the shoulder, and, without looking at him again, walked away, leaving Lord Ashbee with a puzzled look.
Interesting.
—————
“We need to talk,” he told May as soon as he caught her alone.
“Ray, not now,” she pleaded.
“Please,” he insisted. “Let’s step outside for a minute.” He turned, determined, and she followed him with an uneasy look in her eyes.
They left the room and the hallway that was scattered with guests. He took her hand and pulled her down another dark hallway away from the maddening crowd, the music and the laughter that were now distant. When they made the corner, he whipped her around, pressed her against the wall and his mouth crashed into hers.
Swept away by his abrupt strength and her own weakness, she surrendered, and when she did, she wanted that feeling to last forever. The sweet desire that spread all over her body. His lips that were so familiar yet so unusually demanding. His arms that wrapped around her body and pressed her tighter against the wall. She had no time to think, to interject as her own hands gripped tight at his jacket, and she gave in to him. Their tongues met, warm and wet against each other, melting in each other’s mouths as if they could release all the pressure that had been building up in the last year. He was kissing her, and she felt the floor drop out from under her. Her mind went spinning as if she was losing the grip on this world, sinking into his.
Oh, how she missed him!
His scent.
His voice.
His touch.
The weeks that they had spent together.
She was lost again!
His tongue so insistent inside her mouth.
Like a strong current.
Like a warm tide washing away her strength.
