“People may begin to think that—well, that your friendship, along with those gossiping articles in the papers, may give the impression that there could be something between our-our families.”
“Why, Peter, never say you are stammering! I believe your infamous composure is rattled.” Elizabeth grinned at him. “Are you afraid that Lady Deidra may decline your attentions if there are rumors about—your family and the condesa?”
“Elizabeth ...”
“Surely it is only proper that your sister get to know your wife.”
At that, his “infamous composure” shattered entirely. He shot up from his chair, his hands planted on his desk. “How did you know ... ? Did she say...?”
“Don’t be so bacon-brained! Did you not show me her miniature only last year, and tell me of your marriage in Spain? I knew her the first—well, the second moment I saw her at the Dacey ball. She is quite distinctive.”
Peter slowly sat back down, and rubbed his hand across his face. “Your memory is too sharp by half, Lizzie.”
“I am an artist; it is my calling to remember faces. And I do truly like Carmen, since I have had a chance to know her. She is kind and tells such funny stories. And she is a bruising rider! She quite left me, and all her admirers, in the dust at the park this afternoon. And, furthermore, she is quite as intelligent as she is beautiful, unlike so many of your other chosen companions, who shall remain nameless. Truly a match for you, brother. Here I thought there could never be a woman in the world who could tolerate you!”
He smiled reluctantly. “I thought we were a match once, as well. Such did not prove to be the case. Now we have moved forward with our lives.”
Elizabeth studied him quietly for a long moment. Then she slowly shook her head. “You are being a fool.”
“I told you what happened in Spain, Lizzie!”
“With all respect, Peter, sometimes you cannot see past the end of your nose! I do not know exactly what happened in Spain, of course, but I know that Carmen would never have played you, or anyone, false. Nicholas feels the same as I, and he was there!”
“You do not know what you are speaking of. People said ... I saw ...” He broke off with a soft curse. “Nicholas was always charmed by her, and now so are you.”
“There is no talking to you when you are in a mood.” Elizabeth gathered up the train of her riding habit. “I am going to bathe and change. We are going to Lady Carstairs’s rout tonight. Will you be there?”
“I do plan to attend.”
“With Lady Deidra?”
“Perhaps. Are you and Nicholas bringing Carmen?”
“Of course. We are so ‘charmed’ by her, we want to spend every bit of time we can with her!” She smiled sweetly. “So we shall see you there.”
“May I go, Mama?” Isabella leaned against Carmen’s leg as she sat at her dressing table brushing her hair, one tiny hand stroking the soft satin of Carmen’s deep burgundy-red gown.
Carmen laughed. “Not tonight! You are still too young for balls, Bella. When you are all grown-up, and make your bow, we shall have the grandest, most extravagant ball anyone has ever seen.”
“And I’ll have a satin gown? A pink one? And diamonds?” She reached for her mother’s diamond bracelet and slid it over her own arm, admiring the flash of it against her nightgown sleeve.
“Whatever you like.” Carmen held a ruby and diamond drop on a gold chain up to her throat. “This one, Bella?”
Isabella cocked her little head to one side. “Yes, that is pretty.”
“I think so, too.” Carmen fastened the necklace about her throat and reached for the matching earrings.
“Will Lady Elizabeth come to my ball?”
“Of course she will! As will hundreds of other people, everyone we have ever met.”
Isabella’s gaze fell as she fidgeted with Carmen’s enameled pot of rice powder. “But there won’t be ...”
“Won’t be what, darling?”
“Esperanza has been reading me a book where the princess dances with her father, the king, at a ball, and then she meets Prince Charming. But I won’t have a father to dance with.”
Carmen looked down at her daughter in shock. She put her arm about her and hugged her close. “Oh, Bella! I am certain that there will be many, many men to dance with you at every ball you ever attend, including a Prince Charming.”
Isabella smiled, but it was rather watery. “Yes, of course.” The knocker on the front door sounded, and she brightened. “That’s Lady Elizabeth! May I go down and say hello, Mama? She promised to come in and say hello to me specially.”
“Yes, of course, dear, if you will give me my bracelet back. Tell her I will be down directly.”
Carmen watched Isabella scamper away before she let her smile fade.
Isabella had very seldom asked about her father. She had always been so content with Carmen’s brief explanation that her father had been a very brave man who had died in the war, and gone to heaven when Isabella was very small. And, despite a small wistfulness on the very few occasions Carmen had allowed a gentleman to come to their house to escort her to a party, Isabella had seemed entirely content to have her mother to herself.
Whatever could have brought on such questions now? Could it be only the book that Esperanza was reading to her?
Carmen only hoped that Esperanza was not putting too many ideas into Isabella’s head with those fairy stories. Kings did not suddenly appear on white horses to set princesses lives aright in one fell swoop, after all. As Carmen herself well knew.
The Carstairs rout was not the dreadful crush the Dacey ball had been, but carriages were still lined up around the street, waiting to disgorge their passengers. A few people, in their silks and jewels, had become impatient and were now walking along the pavement to the front doors.
Carmen watched these pedestrians from her carriage window, fidgeting with the tiny buttons on her gloves. She was almost tempted to claim a megrim and ask the Hollingsworths to take her back home. It was sure to be a long, trying evening.
She knew, though, that Elizabeth would guess right away that Carmen was afraid of encountering Peter and his Lady Deidra again. It would be just too humiliating for her cowardice to be so exposed!
So she adjusted the small, burgundy-colored satin turban, fastened with a ruby brooch, that held her hair in place, and smiled brightly at Elizabeth and Nicholas.
Elizabeth beamed in return. She had been quite uncharacteristically quiet on the short drive, occasionally tapping one finger against her chin thoughtfully.
She reminded Carmen of Isabella, when she was plotting some mischief.
But all Elizabeth did was dig about in her reticule and come up with a letter, which she handed over to Carmen. “I have such a surprise for you!”
“A surprise?” Carmen looked down suspiciously at the paper. “What is it?”
“Just read it. It is not a snake; it will not bite you.”
Carmen slowly unfolded it. “A voucher to Almack’s?”
Elizabeth laughed and clapped her hands. “Isn’t it too grand? I painted Lady Castlereagh’s portrait last year, and she was very pleased with it. She was more than happy to give you a voucher. We can go the Wednesday after we return from the country.”
“Oh, Lizzie!” Carmen giggled at the thought of a dull, socially correct evening at Almack’s. Would she have to wear white? “Whyever would I want to go to Almack’s? I am no young miss trying to snare a husband! I hear that the refreshments are abominable.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Perhaps. But then, a voucher to Almack’s is essential to getting along in Society—even for a countess. It gives one such an air of respectability. And you never know who you will encounter there.”
“You are up to something, Lizzie,” Nicholas said sternly.
“I certainly am not! I am up to nothing but doing a small favor for a friend.”
Carmen tucked the voucher away. “Well, thank you, Lizzie. I shall certainly go to Almack’s wi
th you, as you have been such a fine friend to me. If I am still in England then.”
Elizabeth looked at her sharply. “Still in England? Never say you are planning to leave us already? I have so many plans!”
“I do not know. I have learned never to set definite plans in my life. They always seem to end up changing.”
“But you cannot ...” Elizabeth began.
Nicholas laid his hand on her arm. “Now, dearest, if you hound Carmen, she is sure to leave us! You must allow her, and Peter, to find their own way.”
His voice was low, meant only for his wife’s ears, but Carmen heard him still. She turned away, blushing.
She had not blushed since she was a schoolgirl, at the Carmelite convent, whispering with her friend Elena Granjero. That had been many, many years ago, and yet now she so often felt the telltale warmth in her cheeks again!
“Oh, look!” she cried in relief as the carriage halted at the doors. “We have arrived at last.”
The dancing had already begun by the time they made their way through the receiving line, and a stately pavane was forming on the dance floor. The crowd was of a goodly size, but the hum of conversation was still low.
“I do hope we can liven things up,” Elizabeth said. “Or I will have wasted a new gown on a very dull evening!”
“A new gown is never wasted,” Carmen answered. “Nicholas shall have to bribe the orchestra to play a waltz, and the two of you can scandalize everyone by dancing far too close. Perhaps you could even kiss!”
Elizabeth shook her head. “ ‘Tis no good! We are an old married couple, and no one is shocked by what we do any longer. We shall have to find someone for you to waltz with.”
“Such as who?” Carmen laughed. “Lord Stonehurst, perhaps?” She gestured with her closed fan to the portly little marquis, who was trying to wink at her in an alluring fashion. He looked a bit like a fish.
“Certainly not! The old hedgehog. He would never suit our purposes.”
“Oh? And what are ‘our’ purposes?”
“To make certain parties sick with jealousy, of course.”
The pavane ended, and sets began to form for a country-dance. Nicholas held out his arm to his wife.
“Come, my love,” he said. “Dance with me, and let Carmen rest from all your scheming.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in exasperation, but allowed him to lead her away.
Carmen waved them off, then looked about for acquaintances she should greet.
Her searching gaze fell on Peter, who had just entered the ballroom and stood conversing with a small group.
And Lady Deidra on his arm. With rather too much bosom showing in her white satin gown for such a young woman. Surely her mother, who stood nearby like a great battleship in gray silk, should have prevented her from so exposing herself.
Peter looked up then and caught Carmen staring at him. One corner at his lips quirked up, as if to smile at her.
Or as if to mock her sour thoughts.
She tilted up her chin and looked away. But it was almost as if she could still feel his gaze on her, warm against her skin.
She drew her fur-edged satin shawl closer about her shoulders.
“Carmen?” a quiet, incredulous voice said from behind her. “Carmen Montero?”
She looked over her shoulder to see a tall, handsome man with red, curling hair and wide green eyes. His face was a ghostly white as he looked at her.
She was becoming so familiar with that expression on people’s faces as they looked at her. But this was a particularly welcome face.
“Robert Means!” she cried in delight. “How utterly wonderful to see you. Nicholas told me that you were in England, but that you seldom came to Town.” She held out her hand to him.
He took it between both of his, holding it very tightly. “I don’t, but I am very glad to be here now! Oh, Carmen, I never expected to see you again this side of the hereafter.”
“Nor I you. Not after the battle we saw! But come, walk with me. Tell me what you have been doing all these years.”
Robert offered her his arm. “Only if you will tell me all of what you have been doing. I am sure it must be more exciting than my tales of the wilds of Cornwall.”
“I am certain not! Are you still a wicked cardplayer?”
“When I get the chance of it. There is little society where I live.”
“But more than in Spain, I am certain!” Carmen smiled at him.
“Perhaps a tad more variety than in Spain, true!” he answered with a laugh. “But I had your society in Spain. That quite made up for any discomforts. I have thought of you so often over the years.”
Carmen was not at all certain she was happy with the direction of their conversation.
She liked Robert Means; she always had. But she had always had the uncomfortable sense that his feelings for her went beyond friendship.
She had quite forgotten that, until now, with his warm gaze and soft smile on her.
She laughed lightly and tapped his arm with her fan. “I have thought of you, as well. But you cannot deny that there must be some pretty girl for you in Cornwall! You have always been far too nice to remain a bachelor.”
He shook his head. “There was some talk in my family of a match with my cousin.” He nodded toward a young brunette in pink silk across the room. “But we did not suit. I am afraid, Carmen, that I gave my heart away years ago, and there has been no one to compare since.”
Carmen swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. She forced another light laugh. “Oh, Robert! We should not be so serious at such a merry party.”
He laughed ruefully. “How very right you are! Shall we dance instead?”
“Oh, yes. Let’s.”
Peter watched with narrowed eyes the progress of Carmen and Robert Means around the room.
Robert Means, of all people! Robert, the man who ...
Robert had always proclaimed his love for Carmen, to Carmen herself, to any of the regiment who would listen. Indeed, Peter had once thought Robert as devastated by Carmen’s betrayal as Peter himself was. He had thought that to be the reason Robert had buried himself in Cornwall.
Now, as he watched Robert laugh with Carmen, saw the light of avarice and lust in those green eyes, he knew that Robert’s feelings did not come from love, but from a very deep hatred. For Carmen, perhaps, yet most assuredly for Peter. He could not say from whence it sprang. Was it jealousy?
Whatever it had been, and was, Peter knew one thing for very certain. He could not bear to leave Carmen in Robert’s presence for an instant longer.
Carmen laughed at something Robert said to her, her dark head tilted back to reveal her swan-like throat. Peter remembered how he had loved to slide his arms around her waist and bend his head to nuzzle at that creamy skin. She had always smelled of jasmine, and sunshine ...
His hand tightened on the champagne glass in his hand. Those days were long past, and if she wished to flirt with that bedamned Robert Means, or anyone else, then why should he even care.
Yet he did. He cared very much.
If only he could speak with her alone again, and discover what had truly happened in Spain and during her life after. Then perhaps he could cease thinking of her day and night. Cease pondering what she might be doing when he was meant to be going over estate accounts, or taking Lady Deidra driving in the park.
Lady Deidra.
She tugged lightly on his sleeve then, drawing his gaze away from Carmen and her attentive escort.
“Do you not agree, Lord Clifton?” she said, her voice soft and sweet. Her blue eyes gazed up at him steadily, a bit vacantly.
Such English eyes, pale and modest, framed in yellow lashes. They did not flash and fire like darker eyes, speaking of warm nights and fragrant gardens.
Peter pushed away such thoughts, and looked around at the small group they were conversing with. Political men from his club, and their proper wives. They all watched him expectantly.
“Oh, yes,” he sa
id. “Quite.”
Apparently that was the correct answer, for Deidra smiled at him and nodded. The hum of conversation resumed around him, and he looked out at the ballroom again.
Carmen and Robert were still walking about the periphery of the party, their faces smiling as they spoke quietly together. As he watched, they turned their steps toward the dancing.
He felt his resolve to remove her from Robert’s somehow-poisonous presence strengthen.
“Would you care for some punch, Lady Deidra?” he said, interrupting whatever old Lord Pinchon was saying.
She blinked up at him. “Why—yes. Some punch would be lovely. Is everything quite all right, Lord Clifton?”
“Yes, certainly. Now, if you will excuse me ...”
As he moved away, Lady Deidra watched him for a moment, then turned her attention back to the conversation, nodding and asking Lord Pinchon a question.
She was so very poised, the perfect, polished political hostess.
Now, where the devil was Carmen?
Then he saw her, dancing now with Robert. Her tall, slim figure swirled through the figures, gracefully dipping and swaying as Robert twirled her about. Her slippers seemed to fly, barely touching the parquet floor. She laughed up at her partner, her face alight.
The sophisticated countess had vanished, and here was his Carmen again. The brave, laughing girl who had loved to dance around campfires, who he had kissed under Spanish stars and held in his arms.
Made love to.
The music ended, quite startling Peter, who had not realized he had spent so many minutes staring. Carmen was leaving the dance floor on Robert’s arm.
Peter thrust his empty glass at a passing footman, and strode across the floor. He did not even see the many pairs of eyes that watched him with great interest, including those of Lady Deidra and her mother.
He halted at where Carmen stood, Robert Means’s arm linked in hers.
“Condesa,” he said quietly. “Dance with me.”
Carmen gaped up at Peter. The music was beginning again, couples moving past them, but all she could see was him.
All she heard were his words, not the whispers and giggles of the other guests.
Scandalous Brides Page 25
