Sally MacKenzie Bundle

by Sally MacKenzie

  “No,” Richard said. “I think I’ll go out. Night’s still young. Don’t wait up.”

  “No, I won’t wait up.”

  Philip watched the door close. He heard Richard’s footsteps echo down the hall, down the stairs. He heard the front door slam. Richard would be gone all night.

  He shed his dressing gown and crawled into the bed that now seemed much too large. He shivered.

  It took him a long time to get warm.

  “Do you think Richard will be here tonight, Sarah?”

  “I would think so, Lizzie. He’s been invited.” Sarah was thankful she hadn’t eaten much at dinner—her stomach was almost as unsettled as it had been on the storm-tossed Roseanna. She looked down the sweeping marble stairs to the large foyer. Wiggins, the London butler, stood ready with a small army of footmen. Guests should be arriving at any moment. Where were James and Lady Gladys?

  “Richard will be here.” Robbie was waiting with them. “He ain’t one to pass up a free meal.” He frowned. “Do be careful, both of you.”

  Sarah restrained a slightly hysterical giggle. “It’s a little odd having you speak of caution.”

  “Unjust! I can be quite responsible on occasion. Isn’t that right, James?”

  Sarah turned, relieved to see James approaching with Lady Gladys on his arm. He was dressed starkly in black and white with a single emerald in the center of his cravat. His height, the dark blond burnish of his hair, and the breadth of his shoulders all caught the eye, but it was the strength in his face, the assurance and unconscious power of the man that held one’s attention. Sarah was certain that no other man tonight would look so impressive.

  “You look splendid, your grace.” Sarah blushed. “As do you, Lady Gladys.”

  “When one has more than seventy years in her dish, splendid is not usually the first adjective that springs to mind,” Lady Gladys said. “But thank you, dear. You look very well yourself, but I’m sure all the bucks will tell you that tonight.”

  “Indeed,” James said, his eyes lit with an unsettling glow. “You will outshine all the other women present, except for Lizzie, of course.” He smiled at his sister; she made a face back.

  “I wish I could wear an azure gown like Sarah instead of this insipid white.”

  “You look lovely in white,” Sarah said. “Don’t you think so, Robbie?”

  Robbie grinned and raised his quizzing glass. Lizzie raised her chin. He laughed. “Oh, indeed. The young pups will be stumbling over each other to beg a dance from you.”

  Sarah was happy to see Lizzie smile and the tense lines around the younger girl’s eyes relax. However, none of the tension left Sarah’s stomach. “Lady Gladys, your grace, surely it would be more appropriate for me to wait in the ballroom?”

  Lizzie’s hand shot out and grabbed Sarah’s wrist. “You are not deserting me, Sarah. I’m ready to faint with nervousness.”

  “But Lizzie, I’m no relation to you. Your brother and aunt will be here. You will do wonderfully.”

  “I don’t think you’re the only one who is nervous, Lizzie,” James said. “Calm down, Sarah. No one will be really vicious in the receiving line—there’s not enough time.” He grinned at Lady Gladys. “And this torture won’t last very long. Aunt gets tired, you know.”

  Lady Gladys grunted. The elegant white plumes in her purple turban bobbed vigorously as she shook her head. “Balderdash! I don’t get tired—you get bored, James. Don’t try to deny it.”

  He grinned. “Well, perhaps I do get a little bored.”

  Lady Gladys frowned at Sarah. “Take your place in this receiving line, miss. Here, stand next to your cousin. Robbie, I rely on you to protect Sarah from the worst harpies.”

  Robbie bowed. “My pleasure, Lady Gladys.”

  “But, Lady Gladys,” Sarah said as she took her place, “won’t people wonder what I am doing here?”

  “Let them wonder. It saves them the trouble of finding other gossip to gnaw on.”

  There was a banging on the front door and Wiggins moved to answer it. Panic surged into Sarah’s throat. “But what am I to say?”

  “Just say ‘good evening.’ If anyone tries to discomfit you, look down your nose at them,” Lady Gladys said. “And if you must say something, say I demanded you be here. It’s true, after all. Now, stiffen your spine and pin a smile on your lips.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sarah said. She whispered to Robbie as the first guests started up the stairs, “Where’s Lady Amanda?”

  He chuckled. “Probably ‘resting’ until this blasted receiving line is done with. She’s had years to perfect her vanishing act.” He turned to greet an elderly woman with a cane and an elaborate, powdered hairstyle reminiscent of the last century. “Lady Leighton,” he said, raising his voice, “how good to see you again. Let me make known to you my American cousin, Miss Sarah Hamilton.”

  Sarah took Lady Leighton’s gloved hand. “Good evening.”

  “Ha!” Lady Leighton peered up at Sarah’s face. “I remember your father and your grandfather, missy. It’s time you came back from those godforsaken colonies.”

  Sarah blinked. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “England, that’s where you belong.” A light shower of hair powder drifted onto Lady Leighton’s bodice as she bobbed her head. “Glad you finally figured that out.”

  Sarah watched Lady Leighton hobble into the ballroom before her attention was taken by the next person.

  In moments, the stairs and entry hall were filled with people. The hum of conversation rose to a roar. Wiggins gave up and left the front door open; the line spilled out onto the square. The shouts of coachmen and the jingle of harnesses mixed with the general hubbub. Sarah smiled and murmured greetings as a steady stream of perfumed, bejeweled ladies and elegant gentlemen streamed past her.

  “Enjoying yourself, Miss Hamilton?”

  Sarah blinked and actually focused on the face before her. “Major Draysmith!” Her lips stretched into a real smile. “How lovely to see you.”

  “Will you save me a dance?”

  “Of course. I think I’ve improved enough that you will not have to fear for your toes.”

  “Ah, now that’s a relief.” He grinned and moved on.

  Finally, the river of people slowed to a trickle. “I think it’s safe to desert our positions.” James took Lady Gladys’s hand. “What do you say, Aunt? Have we done our duty here?”

  “Of course. Take Lizzie in and start the dancing.”

  “I shall be delighted to do so. Come along, Lizzie. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  Lizzie’s eyes were shining and her face was flushed with excitement. “There are so many people here.”

  “Yes, and they are all crowded into the ballroom, waiting for us.”

  James led Lizzie through the wide double doors and down the few steps to the ballroom floor. Sarah followed with Robbie. She paused on the threshold, pulling Robbie back for a moment.

  She had seen the ballroom when they had first arrived in London. Then her feet had echoed in the vast, shadowy expanse and she had shivered a little. Now hundreds of candles flickered from the massive chandeliers. She could barely see the potted trees and banks of hothouse flowers with which the servants had filled the room this morning, there were so many people crowded together. The bright colors of the women’s gowns mixed with the white dresses of the young girls and the black of the men’s evening attire. She breathed in the smells of candle wax and perfume.

  “Oh.”

  “Impressive, ain’t it? James can throw quite a party when he has a mind to—though I suppose Lady Gladys and Lady Amanda had more to say to the matter than James.” Robbie stepped forward. “Come on, Sarah. We have to join the dance as soon as James and Lizzie have opened the set.” He grinned at her. “I do hope your dancing skills have improved since Alvord. I don’t relish bleeding all over this fancy rig—bought it new for the occasion, don’t you know.”

  The sea of people parted to let James and Lizzie wa
lk to the center of the dance floor. Sarah’s hand tightened on Robbie’s arm as she followed through the crowd. The stares and whispers that marked her progress were unnerving. Robbie’s hand came up to cover hers.

  “Don’t let them get to you,” he murmured. “You’ll do fine. You’re a Hamilton, ain’t you?”

  Sarah smiled and raised her chin. “Indeed,” she whispered back.

  “There you go. Sound like a duchess already.”

  Startled, Sarah looked up at Robbie. “I do not.”

  “You do. It’s in the blood, Sarah. You may be American, but you can’t escape your English heritage.”

  Sarah shook her head, but there was no time to ponder Robbie’s words as the orchestra struck the opening note.

  Sarah stood by the windows where the air was slightly cooler. She had danced every dance. Her feet were sore and her face felt flushed. She was happy to have a moment’s respite. She glanced around to see that no one was watching, then quickly blotted the sweat from her forehead with the tips of her gloves.

  James was dancing with a small, blond girl. Sarah frowned as he waltzed by the orchestra. Surely he was holding the girl closer than was proper? And why was she smiling as if they shared an intimate secret? Sarah shifted position to ease the churning in her stomach.

  This was the first time she had seen James in his proper milieu. Women fluttered around him like moths around a lantern. And he didn’t discourage them. He smiled at every last one.

  She was such an idiot. Of course James had been attracted to her at Alvord—he was attracted to anything in skirts. She had just been the only eligible female available for his flirtation. She must not forget he was a duke.

  “Ah, Miss Hamilton, isn’t it?”

  Sarah turned to see two middle-aged matrons smiling at her. Well, their lips were twisted into smiles. Their eyes were calculating. One was short with a sharp, beaky nose. The other was tall and bony.

  “Hello.” Sarah forced a smile. She would have preferred to ignore these two potential harpies, but politeness and caution won out.

  “You don’t remember us, do you?” Beaky Nose said.

  Sarah shook her head. “I’m sorry. I must have met you in the receiving line, but there were so many people, I confess the faces became a blur.”

  “Hmmph.” The nose twitched upwards a notch. “Well, I am the Duchess of Rothingham.” The woman paused and raised her eyebrows. Sarah looked at her blankly.

  “Lady Charlotte Wickford’s mother.”

  Sarah smiled politely and watched the other woman’s lips thin and her brows dig into a frown. Obviously the duchess was expecting more of a reaction, but Sarah truly had no idea who Miss Wickford was. She looked over at the duchess’s companion. The poor woman’s jaw had dropped to her slippers.

  “This is Lady Huffington.” The words barely made it through the duchess’s stiff lips.

  Sarah nodded. “Hello.”

  Lady Huffington, still obviously dazed, closed her mouth. She nodded back.

  The duchess’s prominent nostrils flared. “We understand you are staying with his grace, the Duke of Alvord?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are a special friend of the family?”

  Sarah wondered what gave this woman the right to stage an inquisition. Doubtless she thought her rank permitted such rudeness.

  “No, not at all. I didn’t even know the duke existed until a little over a month ago.”

  “Indeed?” The duchess’s voice was a mix of incredulity and ice.

  “Oh, yes.” Sarah tried to open her eyes wide and look brainless. “I was so lucky the duke and his family took me in. You see, my father was the Earl of Westbrooke’s brother—I mean, the current earl’s uncle. When he insisted I come to England, he didn’t know his brother had died. Of course, I couldn’t live in my cousin’s bachelor household. If the duke and his aunt hadn’t offered me a place in their home, I don’t know what I would have done.” Sarah paused for breath and smiled. “I’m so happy to be able to help the family a little in exchange for their generosity. I’ve some experience with young girls, so I’m keeping an eye on his grace’s sister during her come-out.”

  “Ah.” The duchess’s lips creased up at the corners. “So you are a companion for dear Lizzie. How nice.” She turned to Lady Huffington, ignoring Sarah as if she were suddenly invisible. Sarah smiled slightly. For some reason the duchess had seen her as a threat. But servants weren’t threats and, as a companion, Sarah was just an overdressed servant.

  Until the music stopped. James appeared with his dance partner in tow. The girl’s head barely reached Sarah’s shoulders. She had delicate features and a cool, serene manner. She looked like an expensive porcelain doll.

  “Sarah, I see you’ve met the duchess and Lady Huffington. This is the duchess’s daughter, Lady Charlotte. Charlotte, Miss Sarah Hamilton from Philadelphia.”

  Sarah smiled. The corners of Lady Charlotte’s lips twitched up as if she’d had a moment of indigestion.

  “A pleasure,” Lady Charlotte said and yawned, covering her tiny mouth with her tiny hand. Her eyes never rose above Sarah’s bodice. The duchess could have taken lessons on haughtiness from her daughter.

  The orchestra played the opening strains of a waltz.

  “May I have this dance, Miss Hamilton?”

  The temperature in their little patch of ballroom plummeted. Sarah let James lead her out onto the dance floor.

  “Am I wrong, or did the ladies suddenly seem a trifle chilly?” James murmured in Sarah’s ear.

  “Glacial.” She tried to suppress the frisson she felt when his hand settled on her waist. She was just another dancing partner, she reminded herself. “I think you may have committed a tactical error, your grace,” she said as he swung her into the movements of the dance.

  “James, Sarah. If you whisper it in my ear, no one will hear how bold you are.”

  James whispered this in her ear. Her breathing became a trifle irregular.

  “Stop it.”

  “You say that much too frequently, sweetheart. Do not let it become a habit, for those are certainly not the words I will wish to hear when I’ve gotten you back in my bed. Practice saying ‘yes’ or ‘oh, yes’ or just ‘oh’—with the proper intonation, of course. Short and breathy, perhaps, or long and drawn out like a moan.”

  “James!”

  “See, I knew I could get you to say my name.” James chuckled in her ear. “But why do you think I’ve committed a tactical error? I thought I had executed a flawless retreat.”

  “I had just persuaded the duchess and her friend that I was a complete nonentity, far below their notice, and then you raise me back into their sights by dancing with me.”

  “Oh.” James glanced back at the women. “They are staring at us,” he reported, “and they don’t look particularly happy.” He grinned. “Of course, they never look particularly happy.”

  Sarah felt a spurt of pleasure that James had lumped the porcelain doll in with the older women. She squelched that feeling, too, reminding herself that he would probably criticize her to the next London beauty with whom he danced.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Are you enjoying yourself? You seem to be dancing every set.”

  “Major Draysmith and Robbie have been very good about seeing that I have partners.”

  “I doubt that they have had to work too hard. I’ve had more than a few men ask me who you are.”

  “Really?” Sarah caught her breath as James swung her through an especially exhilarating turn.

  “Really.”

  They danced a moment in silence. Sarah felt the beginnings of the familiar languor that infected her whenever she was too close to James. She searched frantically for a distraction. “Is Richard here yet?”

  “I don’t think so.” James looked over the crowd. His gaze stopped at the doorway. Sarah felt his body tense, then he pulled her closer. “He’s here.”

  “Is he looking at us?”

  James no
dded. “Can’t you feel his evil gaze?” His lips flattened into a thin line. “God, I wish he’d leave me alone.”

  “Ignore him.” She hated to see the bleak look on his face.

  “I wish I could.” James looked down at her. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Sarah.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to me. Stop worrying.”

  “I can’t.” The last note faded into silence. James kept his hands on her a moment longer. “Be careful, sweetheart. Don’t let Richard get you alone.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Be sure you don’t.” He led her over to where his aunt and Lady Amanda were standing.

  “Saw Richard, did you?” Lady Amanda said. She nodded at a young girl standing nearby. “Don’t want him to think you live in Sarah’s pocket. Go ask the Warrington chit to dance.”

  James glanced over at the girl. “The Warrington chit’s out of the schoolroom already?”

  “This is her third Season, James.”

  “Right.” He walked over to the girl.

  As soon as James left, a short balding man with a prominent stomach approached the ladies. “Lady Gladys and Lady Amanda, how delightful to see you again.” The man bowed, emitting a definite creak.

  “Ah, Symington, it’s you.” Lady Gladys sounded distinctly unenthusiastic. Sarah could not blame her. The man looked as interesting as leftover mutton. “Have you been well?”

  “As well as can be expected after such a damp winter. Damp, chilly spring, too.” Mr. Symington shivered. “Terrible weather. But at least the gout’s not bothering me at the moment.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “You heard my Lucinda passed on?”

  “Yes, we did, didn’t we, Amanda? So sorry for your loss.”

  Mr. Symington nodded dolefully. “Lucinda was a good wife.” He heaved a great sigh testifying to his loss…and his lunch of liver and onions. “But it’s been a year now—a man gets lonely. Thought I’d toddle up to town and look over this year’s beauties.” He looked pointedly at Sarah. “Might I trouble you to recommend me as a suitable partner for this young lady, Lady Gladys?”