by May Burnett
He sounded so persuasive that Amanda herself almost believed him. Reason told her that he would not risk a scandal that would taint her and the twins forever in society’s eyes. But from the assurance with which he talked, she expected him to prevail by sheer bluff and intimidation.
“This is blackmail!” her mother protested. After another pause she said, reluctantly. “I shall hold you responsible for Eve’s safety in your house, Rackington. And Miss Harris will go with her.”
Amanda felt a stab of new hurt at the way her mother ignored her, as though she were not present in the room. What had she ever done to deserve such cruelty from the very woman who had borne her? She would never act so towards Marcus and Mary, she resolved, no matter how much they might vex her.
“So be it.” Lucian opened the door and went in search of their hostess, and after another glance at her mother’s closed face and posture, Amanda followed him. They quickly arranged that their coach and servants would return for Eve, Miss Harris, and their luggage in an hour’s time.
She kept her composure until they had climbed back into their closed carriage for the short ride home. Out of sight of her mother and aunt, Amanda began to tremble, and tears swamped her eyes. She impatiently swiped at them with her hand, wetting the kid glove.
“Darling.” Lucian lifted her into his lap and enveloped her with his strong arms. “I am sorry you had to live through that.”
She clung to his comforting strength. “It was worse than I had expected. Why does she hate me so?”
His hold tightened. “I have no idea. It seems quite irrational,” he said. “Your mother must be one of the most stubborn women in the British Isles. I don’t know if she will ever allow herself to see the truth.”
“Thank you for coming with me. I don’t think I would have managed to extricate Eve with just Mattie along.”
“Whenever you need me, just ask, Amanda. Had my valet not mentioned your expedition and that the green room had been readied for your sister, I would not have known anything about it. Next time, take me into your confidence.”
“I will.” She closed her eyes, listened to his strong heartbeat for a minute or two. It soothed her, allowed her to recover her equanimity, strained by the confrontation with her mother.
“Your mother is a fool,” he said after a few minutes. “But you have others who care for you, Amanda. You are not alone.”
Amanda nodded, still nestled against his chest. It felt good to have someone who took her part, protected her against suspicions and aspersions.
“I am glad Uncle Roderick was out,” she mumbled.
“He won’t be a problem much longer.” She had never heard Lucian sound so menacing.
“Good.”
Chapter 28
Amanda was overjoyed to have Eve staying in her house at long last. The preparations for her ball, which would establish her as one of London’s premier hostesses, took so much time that there was little occasion for confidences, which was perhaps just as well. Eve doted on the twins at first sight and spent hours reading stories to little Sigurd, but she also helped Amanda with the preparations as much as she was able.
Their town house was by no means small, but for such a grand affair, Amanda had decided that even more space was required. In her home, dancing for any number over two hundred would have been uncomfortably crowded, and she strongly disliked the idea of large crowds of strangers and strange servants so close to her precious babes. She had, therefore, hired a set of large assembly rooms in an imposing new building, which could easily accommodate fifteen hundred guests and the necessary staff. The edifice had originally been destined for a museum, but the owners had run out of money before it could open. One of the companies in which Lucian had an interest had recently acquired the property with the purpose of hiring the place out for large events. Lady Rackington’s ball was the first and would make the venue instantly memorable.
Since current ladies’ fashion emulated ancient Greek styles, despite the unfortunate difference in climate, Amanda would offer a matching Grecian experience to her guests. She had commissioned scene painters from Drury Lane and hired a fair number of London’s aspiring actors and actresses to wander around and strike poses as the entire Greek pantheon. Pythia, writhing among theatrical false smoke, would offer mysterious ‘prophecies’ to her guests. The servers were dressed in the manner of Greek hoplites and offered nectar and ambrosia, or the closest approximation that could be concocted in modern days. Those walls not covered by mirrors offered vistas of Greek landscapes, interspersed with real cypresses and olive trees. The large area set aside for card games was a dim underworld served by ‘shades.’ On a dais, two actors dressed as Hades and Persephone presided with forbidding expressions.
There were also two orchestras and dance floors, but people could spend the whole evening just wandering around and admiring the ingenious décor and antics of the actors. A huge buffet, scented candles and enormous quantities of fine drink would ensure that all senses were satisfied.
Rumours of this ambitious undertaking had been circulating in town for some weeks, and the guest list had grown to nearly two thousand by the time the appointed evening arrived. Much of the peerage, of parliament, the arts and sciences as well as large numbers of Lucian’s business friends were on the guest list.
Amanda wore a white dress. The elegantly draped folds were modelled on Greek statues, but a diamond and ruby tiara, matching the pineapple-shaped earrings dangling from her ears, added a touch of colour. She had not been sure if the red stones would go with her hair, but in the candlelight the combination looked well enough. The earrings’ reflection caught her eye as she was about to leave her home, like drops of fresh blood.
She had to hurry to check if everything was in order since her last inspection in the late afternoon. Besides, Aunt Louisa had warned her that a few guests would inevitably arrive before the appointed hour.
The hard work she had put into her ball had almost allowed her to forget that she would have to see her uncle Roderick that night. She was the hostess and Lucian’s countess; she would act as though all was well. Nobody must guess how her stomach clenched in panic at the prospect.
“You are lovely tonight, Amanda,” Eve said admiringly, herself a picture in palest blue gauze. She had been ready for at least twenty minutes, eager to leave. “Can we go now?”
“Go on down, dear; I’ll follow in a moment.” Amanda dismissed her maid too and put a tiny flagon of liver potion into the silk reticule dangling from her wrist, wrapped in her cambric handkerchief so nobody could make out the shape. She was not going to use it, of course, but having such a weapon on her would bolster her courage to face her loathsome uncle.
Lucian was waiting for her in the hall with Eve, Mattie, and Tennant. Half a dozen of her servants were also present on various pretexts, to see them depart in their ball finery.
“You look wonderful,” Lucian said warmly, but in front of Eve and the others, he only took her hand and smiled at her. “Let’s see how your hard work pays off, dear.”
“It was amazingly expensive, too,” Amanda said in a low voice as they took their places in the carriage.
“Worth every penny,” he assured her. “The first ball of a new peeress is an investment in her social consequence that will pay off for years to come. It would be more wasteful to organise something half-baked, the same as everyone else. Did I mention that the duke of Clarence has promised to look in?”
“No.” She should be gratified, but all she could think of was the impending meeting with her uncle and mother. Her aunt’s ignorance of the past and Doris’s cheerful nature would hopefully carry them past that moment.
Within ten minutes of their arrival at the assembly rooms, and before the hour of nine specified on the invitation cards, a very long reception line had formed. There was no time to speak more than a sentence to anyone. From those who had already entered, gratifying cries of admiration and wonder could be heard.
By the time
her mother, uncle and aunt, and Doris arrived at the head of the line, Amanda’s smile had become fixed. A few seconds and they were gone, and she turned to the next guest, a dowager marchioness and her companion. Her lover? No matter. She did not know the majority of her guests, but Lucian, at her side, never faltered or forgot a name. Amanda did her best to remember the titles and faces but gave up after the first thirty minutes.
Eventually, they left the reception area under Mattie’s and John’s supervision and danced together. “It is already a triumph, Amanda,” Lucian said. “You are doing us proud.”
“Anyone could have done as much with that huge budget.”
“No, don’t sell yourself short, my dear. To imagine all this and make it real for one night, with such attention to every detail, would be beyond the majority of fashionable ladies, because they are too lazy in mind and body. You, Amanda, are quite unusual, as I keep discovering. I am a very lucky man.”
Amanda swallowed. She was the lucky one, saved at the last hour from disgrace and ruin. “Take care,” she said lightly, “your friends will think you have reformed for the sake of a country wife.”
“Country wife? After this ball, nobody would dare think of you that way. And if they believe me reformed, it would be merely the truth.”
They separated after the dance, and Amanda walked around, talking to some of her guests, introducing single men to wallflowers, and discreetly checking that nobody had to wait for more than a minute or two before they were offered fresh glasses of drink. Rivers of sparkling wine were flowing that night.
As Eve’s chaperon, she had given her sister permission to dance with a young viscount, but that dance had ended a while before. There Eve was, dancing again—Amanda stopped dead. Dancing with Uncle Roderick. How had that happened? But if her uncle asked Eve for a dance, she could not refuse; that would be taken as an affront.
Amanda stood to the side, watching the dancers with murder in her heart.
Presently, her uncle glanced over as the line moved by, and winked at her, even as his big hand passed over Eve’s naked shoulder as though by accident.
A wave of rage engulfed Amanda. So he flaunted his evil intentions in front of her, his earlier victim?
She joined a group of young people who were animatedly discussing the prophecies of the Pythia. When the dance ended, she contrived to introduce Eve to one of them, and within minutes, saw her sister escorted to the dance floor by a dark-haired youth with a slight stammer but impeccable manners.
Her uncle had watched in amusement as she detached her sister from him. “You certainly fell on your feet.”
Amanda schooled her features to icy indifference. “Stay away from my sister.”
“Or what?” He chuckled. “You can’t go around denouncing me, can you? It would ruin you and your proud husband.”
She turned away and walked towards the other room, too agitated to continue the confrontation. So Roderick was unrepentant and determined to debauch Eve as well if he got the chance.
She would prevent him if it were the last thing she did. Her gaze dropped to her reticule.
Not now, but the ball would last for several hours yet.
Not long before midnight the Regent and the Duke of Clarence dropped in. Beau Brummel was also of their party. She and Lucian had to greet the royal guests and show them around, as everybody curtsied or bowed deeply.
His Royal Highness Prince George was graciously pleased with the entertainment. “A fine show,” he told Amanda, tweaking her chin. She bore it with calm. “And well done, your mission to Russia,” George said to Lucian. “Cathcart is already on his way.”
“In times like these, everyone must do their duty,” Lucian said drily. “But for the time being, I plan to remain in England.”
“No wonder, with such loveliness at your side.” The regent’s gaze was resting on Amanda’s exposed bosom. “And congratulations on having an heir at last!” As Lucian thanked him, he muttered under his breath, “Some fellows have all the luck.” Amanda was relieved when the royal party talked to some other ladies and gentlemen and departed within thirty minutes. She had not liked the two bulky men, but the regent’s attendance had set the seal on her social success. As Lady Evencourt had explained, being a noted hostess conferred a certain power on ladies of rank that could be used for various purposes. She might even take pleasure in this game, once she had rid London of her uncle’s noxious presence.
Two hours later the ball was in full swing. Dancing, eating, drinking, and gossiping, her noble guests were obviously enjoying themselves. Some who tended to stay only for short intervals had elected to remain for hours. Despite the onslaught, food and drink supplies were holding up well. Even her mother and aunt had danced several times, while Eve and Doris had formed several eligible acquaintances and were in constant demand. Sir Roderick had retired to the card room and was playing whist under the implacable gaze of the fake Hades. If only he really were consigned to the Underworld!
The dim light would favour her scheme. Amanda passed from table to table, a wine glass in her hand, stopping to exchange a few words with her guests, the picture of a good hostess. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted a half-full wine glass next to her uncle. Red wine, unlike hers.
It was not hard to exchange her glass for a fresh one with red wine. She poured half of the liquid into the base of an olive tree and, pretending to admire the plant, discreetly added the contents of her miniature flask into her glass. The mixture was slightly lighter in colour than the unadulterated wine, but in the dim light of the card room nobody would notice.
She resumed her rounds, forcing herself to appear calm and gracefully accept the various compliments on the success of her entertainment. When she came to the table where Sir Roderick was playing, she casually put the doctored glass next to his. The level in his glass was a little lower since she had looked earlier, but with any luck it should not matter.
“Want to join in, my lady?” one of the other players slurred. He was in his cups, and Roderick and his partner were winning, judging by the coins next to their glasses.
“I have to see to all my guests,” she said, smiling. “Is there anything you need?”
“No, no, wonderf-ful e-evening,” the drunk replied. Nodding, Amanda grasped her uncle’s glass by the stem and moved away, conscious of his sardonic gaze. But he had been staring at her bosom and not at her hands or the glasses. She turned back to watch, but stiffened when she felt cold metal digging against the thin drapes covering her back.
“I have a pistol aimed at your heart,” a man hissed in her ear. In French.
Had her husband’s political adventures brought French agents down on her? With an effort Amanda gathered her racing thoughts, and her schoolgirl French. “What do you want?”
She could have howled with frustration. Why did this have to happen now, of all moments, when she had to see if Roderick drank the potion?
“Come with me, and nothing bad will happen.” From his accent, she was not sure her assailant was French after all. Roderick was staring at his cards, not drinking as yet.
“I am not going anywhere with you.” Turning halfway, she saw that her attacker was one of the waiters, in hoplite costume . “If you shoot me in front of all these guests, you will hang for sure,” she pointed out. “I suggest we find a better solution.”
A number of heads were turning curiously. It was not done, that a waiter should stand so close to the hostess, at her back. Any moment someone would come to her aid.
With a furious growl, the fellow dropped his pistol and snatched at her earrings with his right hand. The weapon discharged, and suddenly they were the cynosure of shocked and curious faces. The man started to curse in an unknown language. Amanda’s left ear hurt from where he had torn out the earring and was no doubt bleeding on her white dress.
Before she could lose the second one, Lucian was at her side. He hit the foreigner with a vicious left hook that left him reeling, and gestured at the servants
to secure him.
“An intruder,” he said calmly. “He will be dealt with. Please go on with your games, ladies and gentlemen.” He dabbed at Amanda’s ear with his handkerchief. “Our part here is done,” he said to her, “and there is blood on your dress. I am taking you home now.”
A servant came to return the missing earring to Amanda, sticky with blood. Lucian took it and put it in his pocket.
Amanda looked around. There were a good dozen shocked spectators blocking her sight of her uncle’s table.
What had she done? What if Sir Roderick died from the potion? Even worse, what if he had been distracted by the scene with the false waiter and some hapless waiter drank the doctored wine in his stead?
“You are pale,” Lucian said. “No wonder after such a shock. Don’t even try to protest.”
She closed her eyes, praying that nothing terrible would happen to innocent persons. “Thank you.”
What would Lucian say if he knew what she had done? Would he still look at her with that warm, concerned expression?
Probably not.
Chapter 29
Lucian stayed with Amanda until she fell into an unquiet sleep.
Though it was barely dawn yet, he dressed for the new day. He could not possibly sleep before confronting the criminal who had dared to raise his hands against his wife.
The fellow’s voice had sounded familiar. Had Lucian seen the man before? He might be able to tell if he saw him in better light, preferably without the disguise.
The prisoner was awaiting the magistrate’s attention when that official would arrive at his office several hours hence. It only took a few words with the constable in charge to secure access, not even a bribe was necessary. Of course, my lord might talk to the miscreant. “He don’t speak English hardly,” the constable complained, “only French and something else we could not make any sense of. He must be uncommonly stupid for a jewel thief to try to attack your countess in front of so many witnesses.”
