When You Wish

by Alexandra Ivy

  Reaching the landing, she swept past the large ballroom and at last halted in a small, dark alcove.

  Coming to stand close enough to inhale the sweet scent of roses, he regarded her shadowed countenance.

  “Why, Rachel, are you once again leading me to some remote spot to have your evil way with me? You must think of my r—reputation.”

  She cast him a dry glance. “Do you see this?”

  He followed the direction of her outstretched hand. “It looks remarkably like a common door. Hardly an astonishing discover.”

  “That is because you do not yet know what lies beyond it.” She reached her hand into the reticule she carried to withdraw a small key. Bending forward she inserted it into the lock.

  “Where did you get that?” he demanded in surprise.

  “My maid was kind enough to borrow it from the housekeeper.”

  “Borrow or steal?” he demanded.

  “Well, I could not risk unwelcome questions,” she retorted, pushing the door open and dropping the key back into her reticule.

  Without hesitation she plunged through the doorway and began climbing the short flight of stairs directly behind the door. Not nearly as eager, Anthony followed behind, plucking at the numerous cobwebs that threatened to cling to his coat.

  “Gads, I do not believe anyone has been through here in the past century.”

  “We must be quiet,” she warned as she stepped into the room atop the stairs.

  Waiting until he had joined her, she pushed aside a heavy curtain opposite the stairs to reveal a vast room below them. With a faint prick of surprise Anthony realized that they were standing on a narrow balcony.

  “The ballroom,” he said softly, noting the servant across the room scrubbing the floor. He glanced around the balcony, a frown marring his wide brow. “Surely this is much too small for the orchestra?”

  “My maid discovered that it was built for visiting royalty to enjoy the various balls.”

  That explained the gruesomely ornate chairs beside the railing, he acknowledged with a grimace.

  “And did a large number of Royals visit Carlfield Manor?”

  She gave a low chuckle as she absently brushed at the dust clinging to her pretty buttercup silk gown.

  “No, but the mere fact that you possess a Royal Box makes one appear far more superior.”

  Anthony gave a shake of his head at the faded gilding and threadbare velvet curtains.

  “I do not believe Prinny would be especially pleased to discover the sadly neglected state of his box. Still, I am not quite certain what your interest in this moldy location is.”

  She regarded him as if surprised by his thorough lack of perception. “Do you not see? It is perfect.”

  “I must apologize for my slow wits,” he said with gentle mockery, “but I fear I do not see at all. What is it perfect for, beyond ruining the shine upon my boots?”

  “To hide Julia, of course,” she said impatiently. “So that she can attend her first ball.”

  Anthony did not attempt to hide his shock at her feather-brained scheme.

  “Good God.”

  Oblivious to his patent lack of enthusiasm to her plot, she regarded him with a sparkling gaze.

  “She has already informed me that Mrs. Greene puts her to bed shortly after nine and then returns upstairs to enjoy her dinner in her own chambers. She does not return to check on her until the next morning unless Julia rings the bell.”

  He supposed that he should not be surprised at her audacious plot. She thought nothing of shocking society or flaunting her intimate connection with the Devilish Dandy. Why would she not suggest kidnapping a girl from the safety of her bed and smuggling her into a house crammed to the rafters so she could enjoy her first ball?

  Still, he found himself wanting to hear about the madcap scheme from her own lips.

  “Are you suggesting that we steal Julia from her bed and sneak her into this balcony?”

  “Yes.” She smiled with unnerving confidence, making Anthony’s heart sink. There was a stubborn set to that lovely jaw that he did not like at all. “We will pull the curtains until there is only a small space for her to see through. She will attend the ball and wear her new gown just as she wished.”

  Anthony narrowed his gaze. “And how do your propose that we achieve this amazing feat?”

  She regarded him in a superior fashion. “I have all the details worked out.”

  Anthony rolled his eyes, knowing he was lost.

  “Heaven help me.”

  Eleven

  Rachel had been singularly unprepared for the vast effort that it required to play the role of fairy godmother.

  On the surface her plan to let Julia attend the ball had seemed simple enough. It was only when Anthony had demanded concise details that she realized just how difficult it would be to accomplish her goal.

  The balcony had to be thoroughly cleaned without attracting the attentions of the servants or guests, the ball gown had to be retrieved from the dressmaker and smuggled to Julia, then Rachel was forced to dress for the ball several hours early so that her maid could go with Anthony to prepare the girl for her special evening. He was to bring her to Carlfield Manor in his carriage and carry her up the servants’ staircase to the balcony.

  It was exhausting and at times nerve-wracking, but at last Rachel had nothing left to do but leave her room and join the seemingly endless guests that crowded the ballroom.

  As she had intended, her appearance created a decided rustle in the room. Unlike the other maidens, she was attired in a deep-ruby gown that precisely matched the jewel about her neck. White crepe roses studded with rubies encircled the hem and formed a wreath in her golden curls. The neckline was low-cut with tiny puff sleeves that exposed a great deal of snowy-white skin.

  It was a daring, vibrant gown that she had chosen to bring a furious frown to Lady Broswell’s ugly countenance. Rachel, however, did not even glance over to where her aunt glowered and stewed beside her insipid daughters. Instead she busily began to dismiss the eager admirers that crowded about her so that she could keep a covert watch on the balcony across from her.

  Despite her confident determination to ensure that Julia was allowed to enjoy the ball, she was not impervious to the risk they were taking.

  Anything might go astray.

  Mrs. Greene might discover Julia missing and raise the alarm.

  Anthony might be seen carrying Julia to the stairs at the end of the corridor.

  Julia might become overexcited and reveal her position on the balcony.

  Or a curious servant might decide to creep into the little-used balcony to gaze upon the guests and discover the hidden maiden.

  Rachel was all-too aware that it was no doubt poor Julia who would suffer the consequences of discovery. She could only pray that all went smoothly and that the child felt the excitement of her first ball was worth the danger they courted.

  Having at last rid herself of even the most persistent suitor, Rachel absently sipped her champagne and pretended to enjoy the couples beginning to twirl about the dance floor. Instead her gaze was darting toward the curtains surrounding the balcony. At least Julia would have an excellent view of the dancers, she acknowledged. The four large chandeliers blazed with enough candles to flood the entire room with flickering light.

  She thought that she had just noted a tiny ripple in one of the curtains when she suddenly was interrupted by the sight of Violet pressing her way through the crowd toward her.

  As was appropriate, the young lady was attired in a white gown with a modest neckline. A profusion of pink ribbons dotted the hem and large puffed sleeves. Unfortunately the color and style did nothing to enhance her pale features and rounded curves.

  Not that the most skilled seamstress could have created the image of a glittering prospective bride, Rachel thought with a pang. There was a deep, unshakable misery in those dark eyes that sent a flare of concern through Rachel.

  Coming to a halt beside
her, Violet regarded her with a trace of envy.

  “Oh, Rachel, how very beautiful you are.”

  Rachel smiled gently. “Thank you, Violet. And you, of course, look lovely.”

  Violet grimaced, clearly as aware as Rachel of the limitations of her gown.

  “That is very kind, but I always look wretchedly insipid in white. How I wish I possessed your courage to wear what I desire.”

  “That is one of the privileges of being born into scandal,” Rachel said in wry tones. “The old tabbies are bound to gossip about me regardless of what I do, so I might as well give them something outrageous to discuss.”

  Violet appeared to consider her words, her hands absently opening and shutting her ivory fan.

  “Does the scandal bother you overly much?”

  Rachel was surprised by the question. Even though they were friends, Violet had always taken excruciating care to avoid any mention of Rachel’s sordid connection to the Devilish Dandy, or even her own habit of setting tongues wagging.

  “Not at all,” she retorted with blunt honesty. “Those who are my true friends seek beyond the gossip. The others do not concern me.”

  Violet gnawed her bottom lip until Rachel feared she might draw blood.

  “What of those who give you the cut direct?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Few dare.”

  “Yes, that is true enough,” her companion murmured.

  Rachel narrowed her gaze as her initial concern became threaded with a growing sense of unease. Why the devil was Violet suddenly so interested in a life of scandal? Surely this sweet, biddable child was not considering anything drastic? The mere thought was enough to freeze her heart.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

  Violet’s gaze abruptly dropped to her fan, which was rapidly becoming frayed beyond repair.

  “I was merely thinking that scandal has not interfered in your life. Indeed, you have been very happy with the freedom to do as you choose.”

  Her words only deepened Rachel’s unease to downright fear. Gads, had she possibly said anything to urge Violet into an act she might very well regret the rest of her life?

  “Violet, are you considering doing something scandalous?” she asked in cautious tones.

  “Me?” Violet gave a forced laugh. “I am not nearly so daring as you.”

  Far from convinced, Rachel reached out to grasp her friend’s hand, her expression uncommonly somber. Although the scandal in her own life had never been particularly bothersome, she had seen how it had wounded her sensitive sister, Emma, and to a lesser extent even Sarah. She would not wish to allow Violet to be carried away with some romantic notion that scandal did not require its own peculiar price.

  “My dearest, I will admit that I do not wish to see you married to Mr. Wingrove, but there is no need to do anything hasty. If you wish to come with me to London so you can consider your future, you have only to tell me.”

  The youthful features became shuttered, as if Violet abruptly regretted speaking at all.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Violet.”

  “Forgive me, I must join Father.”

  Before Rachel could protest, Violet had pulled free of her grasp and began pushing her way back through the thick crowd.

  Rachel resisted the urge to charge after her. The middle of a ballroom was hardly the place to coerce a confession from her friend. Even supposing Violet would be willing to confess what she was plotting.

  Besides, she reminded herself sternly, she had quite enough to worry about this evening as it was.

  Unconsciously tapping her foot, Rachel anxiously scanned the passing guests in search of the familiar handsome countenance.

  Several long moments passed until she at last caught a glimpse of Anthony’s lean form weaving its way in her direction. A deep surge of relief rushed through her at the same moment her heart flopped at the sight of him attired in pure black silk with only his crisp white cravat and silk shirt to provide relief.

  She had been correct when she had first caught sight of him at the opera house, she mused with a delicious furl of excitement. He did possess a fine pair of shoulders. And broad chest. And firm legs. And . . . she shivered, determinedly returning her thoughts to the matters at hand. It would never do to have Rachel Cresswell ogling a gentleman like a lovelorn schoolgirl. She did have a reputation to uphold.

  Waiting until he had battled his way to her side, she offered him a smile.

  “Anthony, at last,” she breathed in low tones. “I feared that you must have been caught.”

  He shrugged, the dark gaze running an appreciative gaze over her slender form.

  “We were forced into hiding on a few occasions.”

  “And how is she? Comfortably settled?”

  “She is thoroughly delighted.”

  “Did you make sure that she could see well and that she could reach the platters of food that I left for her?”

  “All is in order, my little g—general,” he said wryly. “I would not have left her if I was not certain.”

  “I only wish the night to be very special for her.”

  “I doubt she will soon forget it. Her eyes were shining as brightly as any diamond.”

  “And you warned her not to lean too close to the curtains?”

  He smiled deep into her wide eyes. “You know, you sound remarkably like an overbearing mother hen protecting her chick.”

  A sharp, unexpected pang abruptly wiped the smile from her lips.

  “Nonsense.”

  Watching the light dim in her eyes, Anthony’s brows drew together in puzzlement.

  “Why should it be n—nonsense? You will someday be a wonderful mother.”

  “No,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “I will never have children.”

  With an impatient glance at the numerous guests that hovered near, Anthony grasped her elbow and tugged her behind a fluted column.

  “Of course you shall have children,” he said with more force than was necessarily warranted. Almost as if her claim annoyed him. Which was ridiculous, of course. Why should he possibly concern himself with the question of whether or not she would choose to have children? “Eventually you will put aside your absurd fears of marriage and be eager to have a family with the proper gentleman.”

  Rachel felt a flare of irritation at his persistence. This was not a subject she wished to dwell upon. Especially not on an evening she had worked so hard to make special.

  “You do not know me as well as you think you do.”

  He appeared to be battling his own annoyance. “You prefer this shallow image of independence to the genuine love of a husband and children? I do not accept that, Rachel. Deep inside you wish to possess what your sisters have discovered.”

  Her heart clenched as his shaft slid easily home. “I am not like my sisters.”

  “Why?”

  “They have taken after my mother,” she said in pointed tones. “They are loyal and steadfast and always virtuous.”

  He gave a shake of his head. “What the devil are you implying?”

  Rachel briefly wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse.

  “I would think it was obvious that I inherited my father’s unpredictable temperament.”

  Anthony paused as a uniformed servant halted with a tray of champagne. At his dark scowl the poor man hurriedly backed away, treading on the toe of a large matron who promptly screeched in protest.

  Ignoring the chaos he had created, Anthony continued to regard Rachel with a narrowed gaze.

  “You are somewhat impulsive, I will grant. But that is hardly an insurmountable fault.”

  “You do not understand.”

  “Then m—make me understand.”

  She heaved a sigh, silently cursing him for being so persistent. She had never discussed her inner fears with anyone. Not even Sarah or Emma.

  “I love my father. And I have never doubted his love for me,” she began in gru
dging tones.

  He stepped closer to better catch her low words, his male power surrounding her.

  “You are very fortunate,” he murmured.

  “Yes, I am, but that does not make me blind to the fact that my father’s own desires and impulsive whims have ruled his life. My father will always do what is best for the Devilish Dandy. At times such behavior is very painful to those in his life.”

  He appeared thunderstruck at her perfectly logical explanation. Which was nonsense. Surely he had already determined himself that she was too impulsive and strong-willed to ever make a gentleman a comfortable wife?

  “You are not your father,” he breathed in disgruntled tones.

  “But I am very much like him. I can be selfish and determined to go my own way.”

  His lips thinned as if annoyed by her perfectly logical explanation.

  “You can also be generous, kind, and thoughtful. I know of no other maiden who would have taken such a concern in an unknown young girl.”

  She shrugged in a restless manner. “Anyone would feel sympathy for her plight.”

  “Sympathy perhaps, but few would have gone to the efforts to please her as you have.”

  “I have done very little,” she protested.

  “Good God, enough of this, Rachel,” he said in stern tones, reaching out to grasp her hand in a tight grip. “I will not have you doubting your essential goodness. Whatever your father’s faults, they are not yours.”

  A momentary doubt made Rachel hesitate. How many occasions had her sisters rued her wild nature and compared her to the Devilish Dandy? Even those in society labeled her the Devil’s Daughter. She had in time accepted the comparison as undeniable. She was reckless and wild and self-indulgent. But was it possible she possessed a small measure of her mother’s sweet nature as well?

  “How can you be so certain?” she asked before she could halt the words.

  His grip on her fingers tightened. “Because I know you. I have seen into your heart.”

  Just for a moment she became lost in the dark tenderness in his eyes. There was such faith in those eyes. A belief in her that she had never before experienced. Then the realization of how vulnerable her heart was becoming made her abruptly pull away from his seductive promise.