The Pilfered Plume
Page 15
Her eyes flew to his face. “You weren’t sent an invitation!”
“Nevertheless, one was delivered at my door this very morning.”
“All the invitations went out two weeks ago.”
“Then you evidently had a charming afterthought.”
“No.”
“Then someone else did. Ah, me, now I’m quite crushed, for I’ve been under the illusion that you’d decided to be pleasant to me after all.”
A sudden terrible thought struck her. If Nicholas had somehow laid hands upon an invitation, then it was only too probable that his odious Cyprian had as well. “Have you brought that creature here tonight?” she demanded, her steps faltering.
“Remember your dancing lessons, Miss Carlisle, for it wouldn’t do if we fell over in front of everyone, would it?”
“Did you bring her?” she demanded again.
“Please lower your tone, unless you wish the world and his wife to be in on it. No, I didn’t bring her, and you do me yet another grave injustice by even thinking that I would.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past you, sir.”
“No, I know,” he replied dryly, “for you’ve made it tediously and ungraciously clear.”
“Stop toying with me, Nicholas. I’m nothing to you now, and I wish to be left alone to live my life as I see fit.”
“Left alone to make a complete mess of it, you mean,” he said.
She didn’t notice how he was maneuvering her to the edge of the floor, or that he was adjusting their progress now that the end of the dance was approaching. They were close to the conservatory, a place of sunlight during the day but now a haven of leafy shadows, lit only by the brightness from the ballroom.
The ländler was ending, and the conservatory door was right beside them. As the final chord sounded, he suddenly seized her hand, thrusting her out from the ballroom and through the doorway to the shadows beyond. It was done in a second, and no one else saw. As the quiet and seclusion of the conservatory closed over them both, she heard his low whisper.
“It’s time to show you the error of your ways, madam, and I’m just the one to do it.”
Chapter 17
“How dare you!” she cried, at once furious and alarmed. Her heart was now pounding so much that she couldn’t believe he didn’t hear it. She glanced anxiously around, but there was no one else there. The leaves pressed close, and the scent of damp earth and citrus filled the still air.
“Oh, I dare, Linnet,” he said softly, his eyes still a clear blue, even in such a shadowy place. He caught her wrist as she made to push past him toward the safety of the ballroom. “No, don’t think of leaving just yet, for I haven’t finished.”
“Let me go!”
“If you wish to attract attention, then by all means do so, but I advise you to consider the consequences. What price your reputation if you were discovered in here with your former love? And on your betrothal night, too.”
For a moment more she continued to try to wrench her wrist free, but then knew that it was futile. Besides, he was right, the last thing she wanted was to be found alone with him in such compromising circumstances.
As she ceased to struggle, he pulled her further into the shadows. The leaves folded over them, and anyone who entered the conservatory now wouldn’t know they were there.
At last he released her, holding her gaze in the virtual darkness. “Right, madam, I suggest you explain to me exactly why you’re persisting in this idiocy with Gresham.”
“It’s none of your business,” she breathed, pressing back from him and finding herself trapped against the conservatory wall.
“I’m making it my business.” He put his hand to her chin, making her look at him again. “I’m waiting for your explanation, Linnet.”
“Very well. I’m marrying him because I love him.”
“No, Linnet, you’re doing it because you want to love him, which is an entirely different matter. He’s a parasite who at present lives off his half-sister, but who has every intention of soon living off you. He looks at you and he sees a fortune, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Is there no end to your spite, Nicholas? You really can’t bear it that I no longer feel anything for you, and you intend to destroy my love for Benedict if you can!”
“Believe it or not, I’m concerned about your welfare.”
“As concerned as you were last year when you were unfaithful to me? And when you stole Radleigh Hall? Oh, yes, Nicholas, you’re always very concerned about my welfare, aren’t you?”
He was still for a moment, his eyes veiled, and then he spoke softly. “Very well, since you won’t listen to reason, it’s time to find out how strong your contempt really is.”
Before she knew what was happening, he’d pulled her roughly into his arms, forcing his lips down upon hers. With a stifled cry, she tried to push him away, beating her fists futilely against his shoulders, but he was by far too strong for her. The kiss was relentlessly sensual, and allowed her no mercy. He pressed her close, his fingers caressing the nape of her neck. His lips were hard and yet soft, potent and yet gentle, and they laid inexorable and urgent siege to her resistance.
She continued to struggle to be free, but an inescapable warmth was beginning to seep through her, moving like a flame through her veins. It was a treacherous warmth, alluring and irresistible, and it stirred her unwilling senses like the opening of a window in a stifling and breathless room. She didn’t want to respond, she wanted to remain immune, but her strength seemed to be deserting her. The warmth was invading her entire being, gathering power as it stole her will to resist. It was only with Nicholas that she felt this way, only with him that she knew such an intensity of desire, and with each passing second now she knew she was in danger of betraying Benedict by surrendering to the tumult of feelings that were being so forcibly aroused.
Her struggles were weaker, and the warmth drained the last of her resistance. With a moan, she gave in to the intoxicating desire that drove levelheadedness into oblivion, and left her completely at the mercy of this one man. There were no thoughts of Benedict now, only the overwhelming need to be dominated by Nicholas, to be loved by him, possessed by him.
But as she surrendered, he thrust her scornfully away, his eyes hard and his voice cold. “So, you love Gresham, do you? And you despise me as a dishonorable, double-crossing thief? How unfortunate for you that I also happen to be the one you still love. Oh, don’t bother to deny it, for every word would be a lie, wouldn’t it? You love me, not Benedict Gresham, and if you persist in marrying him, you can be assured of a lifetime of unhappiness.”
Shaken and humiliated, she could only stare at him. Her composure was in tatters, and her pulse was still racing with confusion. His kiss burned on her lips, but his voice drove icicles into her heart. With a choked sob, she turned away, unable to face him.
“I trust that you now see the error of your ways, madam, for if you don’t then I fear there’s no hope for you. Good night.” He turned, pushing his way through the leaves to rejoin the ball, where a minuet was playing.
She leaned wretchedly against the wall. The cold touch of reality reached out to her, and she had to fight the tears that rose hotly to her eyes. She mustn’t cry, she mustn’t. She had to face her guests again. And face Benedict. Shame swept through her. She’d betrayed his love, and on the very night he was to place his ring on her finger. And for what? A fleeting moment of passion, followed by yet another cruel rebuff. Oh, what a fool she’d been, what an utter fool…
She straightened, taking another steadying breath. Nicholas had done more than just point out the error of her ways, he’d concentrated her thoughts to devastating effect. She wouldn’t allow one man’s beguilingly persuasive kisses to cloud her judgment. Benedict was her future, and before another hour was out, she’d be wearing his ring.
Suddenly much more calm, she crept secretly out of the cloak of leaves, hurrying not toward the ballroom, but to the French windows that stood
open to the terrace. If someone had noticed Nicholas thrusting her into the conservatory, she wasn’t going to make the mistake of being seen leaving it shortly after he had. No, she’d return to the ballroom as if she’d been walking in the gardens, which was what she was going to say she’d been doing.
There were quite a few guests on the lantern-lit terrace, but no one glanced toward her as she slipped stealthily out. Snapping open her fan, she strolled casually along the terrace toward the ballroom, pausing to speak to the first group of guests.
“I’m sure you’ll think me the end in fools,” she said with a light laugh, “but I’m rather afraid that I’ve mislaid both Mr. Gresham and Lady Hartley. They were walking in the gardens, but although I’ve trailed around and around looking for them, they appear to have vanished.”
Algernon Halliday was one of the group, and his clever eyes appraised her for a long moment, then he smiled. “Why, my dear Miss Carlisle, they returned to the ballroom several minutes ago. I believe, from their urgent manner, that someone had informed them of Lord Fane’s arrival.”
Yes, she thought frostily, and I’ll warrant you were that someone. She met his rather sly gaze, disliking him even more than she had after overhearing him at the exhibition, and a bland smile curved her lips. “Thank you so much, I’ll look for them inside.”
She could almost feel his disappointment as he sketched her a bow. Walking toward the ballroom, she encountered a rather anxious Great-Aunt Minton, who drew her discreetly aside for a moment. “Are you all right, my dear?”
“Yes, Great-Aunt, quite all right.”
“It’s just that Lord Fane’s presence seems to have caused such a stir, and I was afraid that it would have upset you.”
“I’m quite all right,” said Linnet again, meeting the other’s gaze with commendable equanimity, so that no one could have known she was anything but cool, calm, and collected.
Great-Aunt Minton nodded, somewhat reassured. “I’m relieved to hear it, but tell me, how did he acquire an invitation?”
“I only wish I knew. Still, the ball has continued in spite of his appearance on the scene. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I should find Benedict and Venetia, for they’ll be wondering as much as you.”
The old lady patted her arm. “Yes, of course, my dear.”
Smiling, Linnet kissed her, and then hurried into the ballroom, where she saw Benedict and Venetia almost immediately. They were talking seriously together, and Benedict glanced around anxiously from time to time. She’d almost reached them when Benedict turned suddenly and looked directly at her. She saw the moment of hesitation, of doubt, and guilt lanced through her anew.
Forcing a bright smile to her lips, she hurried up to link her arm warmly through his. “I’ve been looking for you all over the garden. Where on earth did you get to?”
Venetia returned the smile, but a little uneasily. “We were just walking. I can’t think how you didn’t see us.”
“Well, it is rather dark out there, in spite of the lanterns,” replied Linnet lightly. Then she leaned conspiratorially closer. “I suppose you know that Nicholas has somehow acquired an invitation, and has actually had the gall to attend?”
Benedict glanced at Venetia, and then cleared his throat, giving Linnet a somewhat awkward smile. “Well, yes, we did know. I-I understand he danced with you.”
“Yes, he did. I vow I’ll never dance another ländler! I didn’t want to accompany him, but to have refused would have caused a scene, and that was the last thing I wanted. I did do the right thing, didn’t I?” She was all innocence as she looked into his eyes.
Venetia opened her fen, wafting it gently to and fro. “Linnet, I have to be honest with you. Benedict and I are afraid…”
“Yes?”
“Afraid that Nicholas may mean too much to you after all, and that you might wish to cancel the betrothal.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was five minutes to midnight.
“Nothing could be further from my wishes,” replied Linnet softly, squeezing Benedict’s arm and smiling at him. “Unless, of course, you wish to withdraw?”
Benedict’s hand moved swiftly over hers, and a relieved smile warmed his lips. “Never would I change my mind where you’re concerned, my darling.”
Venetia was smiling, too. The fan snapped closed again, and there was new light in her eyes. “Oh, Linnet, I’m so glad. I was truly alarmed when I heard about Nicholas, and your dance with him. And then when we came inside and there was no sign of you, or of him…”
Linnet glanced around. “Isn’t he here, then?”
“Not that we’ve seen. Oh, wait a moment, isn’t that him over there by that sofa? Yes, he’s with that lady in…” Her voice broke off suddenly, and she gave a horrified gasp. “Oh, surely it isn’t her!”
Linnet whirled about, her anxious gaze seeking out Nicholas and his partner. She saw them at last. The woman had her back to them, but was tall, with a tumble of bright red curls and a subdued gray-green silk gown that gave the impression of having been chosen because it was nondescript. Linnet’s heart almost stopped. Was it Judith Jordan? Had the creature gained admittance after all, and was she displaying the supreme audacity of talking to Nicholas right in front of everyone?
Fury bubbled up inside her, and she made to approach them, but Benedict’s hand tightened over hers. “Leave it, Linnet. I’ll tell Sommers, and have her discreetly ejected.”
Linnet looked at him torn between a desire to deal with the Cyprian herself and a need to observe discretion. When she looked toward the sofa again, Nicholas was alone. The mysterious red-headed woman had vanished.
Venetia looked at the clock. “It’s almost midnight. I’ll go to see Sommers, while you two get on with the betrothal ceremony. I’ll be back to see my pièce de résistance.” She gestured toward the rose column in the center of the floor.
Linnet was trembling a little, shaken yet again, this time by the thought that the Cyprian had somehow managed to penetrate the Carlisle House defenses; she was also forced to the inevitable conclusion that in spite of his protestations of innocence, Nicholas had after all assisted his mistress in her plan.
Benedict was leading her toward the center of the ballroom floor, and Herr Heller had stopped his orchestra in the middle of a polonaise. Great-Aunt Minton took up a prominent position nearby, making it clear that the betrothal was about to take place, and the guests drew back, leaving a wide area around the column of roses.
Venetia was speaking in an undertone to Sommers, who looked dismayed and startled, hurrying away with several of the footmen to see if the lady with the bright red hair and gray-green gown could be found. Then Venetia beckoned some other footmen, sending them to their appointed places in the corners of the ballroom, ready to untie the silver ribbons and release the unicorns.
An expectant hush fell on the glittering gathering, and with a tender smile, Benedict took the ring from his pocket. It was a magnificent ring, gold with three large diamonds, and it flashed in the light of the chandeliers when he slipped it on to the fourth finger of her left hand. A great cheer went up as he kissed her on the lips, and then there were cries of wonder as the silver ribbons were released, and the shining unicorns began their slow descent. As they reached the floor, there was a fluttering sound from within the column, and suddenly the linnets were released, fluttering into freedom and flying above the guests. As Venetia had so confidently predicted, the little birds soon escaped through the open French windows, fleeing to the lantern-hung trees in the dark garden. At dawn they would fly away forever. Benedict held Linnet close for a long moment. “I love you, my darling,” he whispered.
She hugged him tightly, but somehow couldn’t say the same words to him. Another sliver of guilt passed through her, and she was relieved when Sommers at last announced that supper was being served.
Herr Heller’s musicians began to play again, an allemande this time, and those guests who did not immediately move to the supper room began to dance.
“You did indeed. It’s the most beautiful ring in the world.”
“Well, now you’re halfway to being my sister-in-law,” replied Venetia, smiling.
Linnet glanced at Sommers, who stood by the top of the ballroom steps. “Venetia, did they find that woman?”
“Yes, actually. It was a certain Mrs. Horatia Ponsonby, and she wasn’t at all pleased to be pounced upon by a party of footmen. She left in exceeding high dudgeon, and said that she would never again set foot in this house.”
“Oh, dear,” murmured Linnet. “Mrs. Ponsonby? I don’t know a Mrs. Ponsonby, do you? I don’t remember her being on the list.”
“She wasn’t. She accompanied Lord Dymchester, whose invitation stated he could bring a partner. Anyway, she isn’t important, nor is Lord Dymchester, who will, no doubt, soon be in equally high dudgeon. All that matters is that you and Benedict are safely betrothed, and there still isn’t any sign of the Bird of Paradise. Now, if I don’t have some refreshment, I vow I shall fade away. Oh, lord, here comes Poky Withington again!”
“Linnet and I will defend you,” declared Benedict gallantly. “If we all adjourn to the supper room together, he’ll give up for the moment. Shall we go?” He offered them both an arm, and they laughingly accepted.
He escorted them toward the steps leading out of the ballroom, but then the brief laughter died on Linnet’s lips as she saw Nicholas ascending the steps before them. He paused at the top, turning to look directly at her. Another of those mocking smiles that taunted her so much played fleetingly upon his lips, and then he sketched a disdainful bow before walking out into the entrance hall.
She knew he was leaving the house.