He dropped his hand and held them in fists at his sides, nodding politely before walking away. Percival scanned the audience that moseyed about the ballroom, wondering how a lady of gentry had managed to attend the ball without a proper chaperone. Without the permission of a guardian or escort, there was no hope of dancing with Lady Gray. He silently berated the brave gentlemen who risked their reputations and the respect of their equals to ask her to dance. He was a coward of the worst sort, unable to look beyond his status and gamble it all for her.
Percival should never have stood so close to her. The sight of her beauty, the sound of her laughter, and the way she had looked up at him as though his very presence inspired something careless within her would forever haunt him. He took no offense to the mocking glances from the chaps who waited with barely restrained retorts.
“My, my, my…” sighed Elias Turner, Marquess of Northampton, one of the few gentlemen at the assembly he would consider a true friend. The Marquess leaned forward so that the others could not overhear his words. “Lady Belfour has you in her sights. I would advise you to step carefully with so many masters on the board. No need to stir up anything worse than a bit of gossip.”
There were no greater words of advice that one member of the peerage could bestow upon another. Whereas most of the attendees at the ball would love nothing more than a embarrassment to distract them from their routine lives, Marquess Turner understood Percival’s desire to stay out from under the intolerable gravity of a social scandal.
Elias Turner was no stranger to the brutal world of the upper echelon. He spent many years within reach of his true love, never able to take that leap and live a life of happiness. Percival did not pity him, but he sympathized. Now that Lady Gray captured his interest, he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her. But alas, there was nothing more he could do other than banish the bashful flush on his face and take on the arrogant smirk he was known for. The words he had prepared to explain his actions to the other gentlemen were lost in the ripple of Lady Gray’s laughter.
Faith! She is sure to be the death of me!
***
Marina giggled at the witticisms and anecdotes of those around her. But in truth, her mind wandered to the gentleman who had been inches from touching her shoulder when she noticed his approach. From the looks of pure astonishment that came over the other guests, Maria assumed he was a gentleman of great importance. Never had she imagined that he would be the Viscount of Greenwood. Percival Knight was his name, and he was absolutely awe-inspiring.
The shifting colors of his eyes sparkled in the chandelier lights, causing them to have an almost eerie glow. His dark, brown locks looked soft to the touch, not that she would ever attempt to reach out to him. But a lady could dream, could she not? Marina adored the lines creased at the corners of his eyes and his mouth. It was a sign that he was a man who enjoyed laughing.
He did not seem jolly tonight, however. The Viscount would close his eyes or release a pained sigh whenever she laughed or spoke too loudly. Marina hated to think that her presence offended him in some way. She had behaved like a lady with the utmost propriety...or so she thought.
“Lady Gray!” Lady Lockhart called, pulling Marina from her thoughts. With a feeble smile, Marina approached Lady Lockhart and the others. They all wore the same smile that failed to reach their eyes.
“You called, Lady Lockhart?” Marina examined.
“We are pleased to extend an invitation to join us at the next social-” Lady Lockhart’s words were interrupted abruptly.
“That is, of course, if your chaperone approves,” Lady Belfour said.
Marina steeled her nerves against the sudden onslaught of regret that washed over her. The Lady did not stop there, however. Each word seemed to drip with acrimony.
“In fact –I do not believe I have seen you with anyone of note, despite your title. Do you not have a chaperone, my dear? Surely you must.”
She opened her mouth, but did not unclench her jaw as she turned to the lady on her left flank. Before she could utter a single syllable, Lady Belfour began to chortle, “I was simply jesting, my dear.” Marina along with everyone else within hearing distance exhaled a sigh of relief. “As Lady Lockhart mentioned, we would like to invite you into our circle. A lady of superiority needs her girls about her, does she not?” There was something beneath the words of request that Marina could not quite place, but she found herself simply nodding in response.
“My chaperone is-” Marina was interrupted once again.
“Madam Juliana Turner, The Dowager Marchioness of Northampton,” barked a commanding voice. This time the interference came from a nobleman swathed in male elegance; he was the panicle of masculinity as well as beauty. He wore a striking collection of London’s more flagrant male trends with an air of refinement and dignity.
Magnificent as he was, the nobleman with piercing silver eyes did not surpass the image of Viscount Knight, in her opinion. He stayed within a respectable distance as he demonstrated to a lady of nobility who stood beside him.
The gesticulation by the Marquess and his mother made his intentions to safeguard Marina, or Lady Leliana Gray’s reputation, quite clear. The woman at his side stepped forward. Marina’s heart clenched at the sight of Marquess Elias Turner’s mother. Her hands trembled as she felt the noblewoman delicately take her elbow and usher her to a settee near the back of the ballroom. As they walked, Marina saw as Lady Belfour’s face paled slightly and she stumbled over her words, “Elia- forgive me, Dear Lord Turner. I meant no offense.”
Marina felt no little satisfaction at finally witnessing a crack in Lady Belfour’s demeanor. Once they were safely out of earshot, the Marchioness sat beside Marina and spoke quietly. “My son humbly requested that I chaperone you for the remainder of this evening. But it is for one evening only. If you intend to continue with this performance-”
“Please, I-” Marina was silenced with one look.
“He is not aware that you are not who you claim to be, and neither is Lord Knight. I shall withhold my knowledge on the matter if you agree to either put an end to it or carry on with the utmost caution. You chose a dangerous path in attending this ball, now only you can decide where it leads.”
“May I ask what alerted you to my deception, my lady?”
The Marchioness sighed as she patted Marina on the hand. There was a story behind her eyes, but she gave an answer as ambiguous as everyone else at the ball. “I was young once, full of adventure and ready for change. But there is a grave accountability that rests on the shoulders of aristocracy. You must uphold the values of tradition and preserve the status of your lineage. Enjoy your evening, but consider the point that you have made a mockery of all that I stand for. And I wish that a valuable lesson can be learned from this night.”
Chapter Five
Assembly Rooms
St James’s District, London
Percival clenched his jaw against the unpleasant sensation of possessiveness that incapacitated his sanities. He wanted nothing more than to growl like a barbarian at the Marquess and demand that he never speak to Lady Gray again. However, the careful intricacies of his stringent upbringing demanded that he remain indifferent but polite at all times.
He knew that the Marquess had not meant any impropriety as he rushed to aid Lady Gray by offering his own mother as her chaperone. Percival was exceedingly grateful, despite his rare bout of jealousy. He wanted to ask her to dance, but he feared what would happen if he had the chance to be near her. Percival did not trust the components of his brain to work properly in her presence. She weakened him.
Never in his life had he felt insecure or uncertain in his actions. Ever the air of confidence, Percival could barely comprehend the changes in his behavior since Lady Gray arrived at the ball. There was a profound sense of urgency to have her smile directed at him. Desperately wishing to have a simply conversation with her, he downed the contents of his glass and strolled over to the Marchioness and Lady Gray. H
is breath caught.
“Lady Gray, allow me to introduce you to Percival Knight, Viscount of Greenwood,” The Marchioness stated.
“Good evening, Madam Turner and Lady Gray,” Percival bowed slightly at the waist in a display of respect. “May I politely request that Lady Gray be permitted to dance?”
A coy smile toyed at the corners of the Marchioness’ mouth as she very faintly nodded her approval. A strange look passed between the two women as though they shared an insight that the rest of the ball was not privy to. Even so, Percival offered Lady Gray his hand and waited for her response. She, of course, had every right to deny him. But his heart filled with relief when she accepted.
Together, they walked onto the chalked floors where the other patrons danced. Percival fell into stride perfectly, noticing that Lady Gray did not know the steps. He held her a bit more securely and led the dance. She nibbled nervously at her bottom lip and stared at her feet.
“Lady Gray,” he said raspingly. “You would do better to look up whilst you dance. Do not worry, I will not reprimand you if you were to prance upon my boots.”
And just then, her impressive blue gaze made Percival feel like his soul had been bared to the world. She released her bottom lip and smiled shyly. A combination of timidity and pride in her unguarded expression was invigorating to behold. “Lord Knight, it is an honor to meet you.”
“Please, call me Percival.”
“I am not comfortable doing so, My Lord.”
“If you insist…” he started.
“I do,” she asserted. Her hand quivered against his palm as he held her stare. She was petite and fragile, despite the fire that burned within.
***
Marina cursed whatever deity thought it necessary to torture her on what was meant to be the grandest night of her life. The partner changes and details of the dance made her want to scream. Each time she was back with the Viscount, Marina fought against her own urges to break down the walls of decorum and respectability to tell the him that each word that rumbled from his chest was sure to drive her mad. For a moment, she berated herself for not using her real name. She would have loved to hear him say it.
The Viscount felt strong and confident moving her through the steps of the dance. Marina gripped him tighter as she nearly lost her footing on a more complex turn. Thankfully, he was there to stabilize her without an ounce of pity in his eyes. She was twirled by a new partner and led through more of the dance before she was returned to him.
Marina could not hide the blush that stole across her pale features as he smiled handsomely down at her. “You are doing well.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
“I have heard so many rumors where you are concerned, Lady Gray. There seems to be a bit of distress attempting to deduce which of them are the truth,” Percival said playfully.
“No one was content to learn that I simply enjoyed the adventures provided in literature and the arts as I traveled the world. Instead, they decided that I must have been abducted by pirates or the sort.” She grinned from ear to ear as he lost himself in a bit of laughter that warmed his cheeks.
Marina watched his face attentively as she floated in his arms. Her chest felt tight and the world became a dream. She was lost in the fantasy that she had hoped for, and at the same time she loathed this man. Marina loathed him for making her want the dream to be real, for him to dance with Marina Clarke and not the illusion of Leliana Gray.
“Your smile has fallen, Lady Gray,” he whispered. The Viscount’s brow furrowed with worry.
Without thinking, Marina reached up and smoothed away the wrinkles that appeared on his forehead. The disbelief written on his attractive face caused her to drop her arm. She felt like she had been burned by fire. He cleared his throat and looked about the room as he passed her to her next partner to see if anyone caught sight of their brief exchange.
Marina glanced back down at her feet, trying to avoid his searching eyes until they switched partners. After a few rounds, they were united once again. She kept her gaze directed at the floor. “Please, Lady Gray. Our dance will end soon enough, and then you will be free of my company. But I will not be pleased if it ends with your eyes to the floor.”
“Apologies, My Lord. I did not wish to offend.” She hesitated, but eventually Marina began to observe him as she had before. His eyelashes were long, and fanned against his cheeks. The Viscount’s lids grew heavy with a look she could not read. “What is it you enjoy about socials at the assembly?” she asked.
“In truth, I normally would not attend many of them. Of course, on occasion I am expected to, but a gentleman of my status is oft required to make appearances at more private events. But I do enjoy the atmosphere.”
Marina’s nose scrunched in distaste. Before she could control her tongue, she boldly muttered, “You cannot be serious? While I enjoy the flamboyance and cheerfulness of the juncture, there appears to be a worrying amount of prickly personalities.”
The Viscount laughed through his nose, revealing just a glimpse of a boyish dimple in his left cheek. “Prickly? Well, it sounds as though you’ve never attended a social, Lady Gray.”
***
The song came to an end just as Lady Gray pulled out of his reach. Percival searched her expression for any sign of shame or discomfort, but what he saw was more frightening than he could have imagined. A shield of unresponsiveness shuttered her thoughts and emotions. Something had stolen the light from her eyes as she walked away with a feeble excuse about needing to return to her chaperone. He allowed her to retreat.
Nearly an hour later, Lady Gray was nowhere to be found. The Marquess and the Marchioness were also uninformed of her whereabouts. Percival’s pulse quickened as he pushed through the heated, twisting bodies dancing in the ballroom. The conversations dulled to a hazy hum that was drowned out by the sound of his frantically thundering heartbeat. He barely heard the Marquess calling his name or Lady Belfour’s attempt to distract him. Percival needed to find Lady Gray. He would regret it endlessly if he left their bond unexplored.
He wanted to apologize for offending her, if nothing else. He rushed through the front door of the assembly rooms just in time to see her enter a carriage. “Lady Gray!” He called, not caring who might hear his nearly desperate plea.
She looked up at him for a moment before the carriage took off down the cobblestone street, a roguish smile upon her angelic face. Lady Gray did nothing to stop the carriage from moving, nor did she leave behind any means to contact her.
Percival returned to the ballroom to find several of the attendees regarding him tenacious curiosity. Luckily, not many of his peers had been alerted to his uncharacteristic behavior. He descended further into the room, but was stopped by the Marquess. He seized his arm and steered him into a dark corner. Percival was shoved against the back wall in an unusual fit of rage from the Marquess.
“What were you thinking?” the nobleman hissed. “After I essentially gifted the two of you a moment of discretion, you squander my efforts by chasing after her like an infatuated pup! Did you not consider how your actions might be perceived by our peers?”
“Elias, I do not know what-”
“You will address me by title.”
Percival felt the harsh retort like a physical blow. His self-esteem had taken quite a throttling since he had lost control of the game. While he could accuse Lady Gray for his loss of face, he knew he could only blame himself. He had been so foolishly captivated and awestruck by her arrival. There were no justifications for his actions. “My greatest apologies, Lord Turner.”
“Remember this night well, Percival. For if something of this nature should ever occur again, do not consider me an ally.” The Marquess released him, adjusted his tailcoat, and returned to the festivities as though nothing had taken place in the shadows.
Percival was left alone to his thoughts, which inevitably returned to the enigmatic lady who had so completely disrupted the natural order of their world. Very little
damage would be dealt to his reputation, but Percival could not help but feel slighted. He deserved an explanation if not an opportunity to redeem himself.
With one final deep breath, Percival moved into the light and was struck by the delicate fragrance of sweet apple and jasmine. He shut his eye briefly and drank in the traces of her scent against the cuff of his shirt where her gloves had momentarily grazed him during her near fall.
She was a mystifying jumble of clumsy and graceful, proud and timid, eager and hesitant. She was as stunning contradiction of everything he thought a lady should be. He craved more of her laughter, and yearned to see her smile. What would she look like with the sunlight catching off of her blond curls? Percival could not resist the flow of his thoughts. Lady Gray possessed the rational voice of his conscious.
When Percival finally opened his eyes he was met by the sight of Lady Charity Belfour, her gaze snapped with fire and animosity. She dared not address him without someone there to oversee their interaction. The envy and resentment deemed her less attractive than he had once thought. Yes, he was shallow, but Lady Gray shattered his standards, and he would not rest until he saw her again.
Chapter Six
East End of Thames River in London
Marina felt the clawing against her soul as she slithered back into reality and tried to ignore the pitiful squalor of the hovel she was forced to call home. Happiness drained from every pore as she stepped through the door of her underprivileged accommodations. Paper peeled away from the walls, the floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and a smell she did not wish to identify clung to the air and burned her nose. Water dripped from the ceiling into a pail on the floor.
The Viscount's Victress (Scandalous Nobility Book 1) Page 3
