Fate Is A Stranger: Regency Romance

by Gay, Gloria

  "Do consider also, Hawk," she said, her voice in a tremor and her hand shaking slightly, so that she put back the pastry on the plate, "that I have the unenviable chore ahead of convincing Deckworth of this scheme you are entangling me in. Needless to say that will not be a pleasant experience for me. Give me at least some peace of mind by refraining from throwing mud at Cade, knowing how fond I am of him."

  "Well, all right," said the duke, relenting. "I surely don’t want you to go into battle with Deckworth, that non cock, without the proper frame of mind."

  "You do tend to disparage those I love the most, Hawk," noted Lady Deckworth. In spite of the cool day, perspiration trickled down from her hair to her neck so that she wiped it out nervously with a bit of lace.

  "You married against my advice the first and second times, Arabella," Hawk replied, shaking his head, "and if we were to be gifted with Deckworth's early demise, you would probably marry against my wishes for a third time. Do not expect approval from me this late in the day, for it is not forthcoming."

  "I can’t believe you could say—" Lady Deckworth had almost stood up in alarm.

  "Elsidore was only one degree better than his son; if you can use the word 'better' in relation to Elsidore and Cade," continued the duke, undaunted by his sister's reaction, "and a better matched set of scoundrels I have yet to see. Mercifully, the Lord saw fit to take Elsidore into his midst, if indeed he is with Him, which I seriously doubt."

  "Well, said Arabella frowning, "what a harangue!" She bit into a delicate syllabub she had again lifted nervously from the plate, hardly seeming to know what she was doing and nervously took a sip of wine. "And for you to talk so ill of the dead, too!"

  "Since I spoke ill of him while he was living, I should be a hypocrite if I praised him now that he is in the earth," said Hawk.

  "No, no one can ever accuse you of wavering in your beliefs, at least, Hawk. I loved Elsidore until his death and I love Cade as if he were my own flesh and blood. I do believe that through the years you might have softened your attitude towards them, for my sake, at least, if not for them."

  "I would have, Arabella, if it had been at all possible; please believe that. But I cannot, for your sake alone, pretend to be blind, as it seems easy for you to do so. I believe Souten to be an unrepentant cad but you must see him with maternal eyes that drip with love for him. Were it possible to shake that love you have for him by shaking you I would not hesitate to do it."

  "I don't imagine you would," said the marchioness, returning a half-bitten syllabub to her plate and replacing her wineglass on the table.

  "Well, let us leave this subject for now," she said, a tremor in her voice. "There is another subject I must speak about."

  "And what is that?" asked the duke.

  "I must ask a question of you and I believe you must answer it, since I am to do so much for you," she said.

  "And that is?"

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "Doing what?"

  "This expensive house party at the castle, Hawk, that you are organizing. Why on earth are you going to such trouble? Gossip runs that you are in love with the girl, Lord Kelly's illegitimate daughter. Is this true?" Arabella now looked deep into her brother’s eyes.

  "I believe I hear Deckworth arriving, Arabella, and I must be excused from answering anything about my affairs that I deem too private for your ears. If you hear gossip, you must indeed shift through it and decide what is best for you to believe."

  * * *

  When the Marquess of Deckworth arrived and the marchioness had disclosed her intention to be the hostess at a house party at the castle, Lord Deckworth at first was speechless. The marquess had wispy blond hair that brought to mind his maternal grandfather whom he resembled excessively both in looks and in character. He had a long thin nose that sniffed in disapproval at anyone lower than a baronet and long thin hands with which he played the pianoforte on occasion. And though he was not even borderline passable at this instrument, in his mind he was certain he had an immense talent and felt that to hear him was an occasional treat he bestowed on a select number of people. Arabella had told him on one occasion that he was no great proficient at the pianoforte, but he had stared at her in disbelief, believing her comments to be the product of extreme jealousy. He treated his servants as though they were furniture and was stiff even with his valet who had been with him since he was a young man.

  After a few moments of staring at his wife and after shaking his head in disbelief at least three times, he exclaimed,

  "And you expect me to be at your side in this slide into insanity, Arabella?"

  "I expect you to be at my side, Deckworth, and it isn't much to ask of you, I don't believe."

  "You are aiding your brother in this scheme. He is staining the family name with this and I will not be a party to it."

  "You will be a party to this party, all right, Deckworth," said the marchioness, who could be a tigress when she chose, just not a tigress with her brother, as he had bested her in every game they played in childhood and every fencing of words since.

  "And you believe you can make me stain my own name by attending a party given in honor of a former harlot?"

  "No one is declaring it to be in her honor, Deckworth. That may very well be the reason, but it isn't the public one given and even if everyone knows the real reason for the party, you can pretend it isn't so, for me."

  "You’re asking too much, Arabella, and I will not do it." The marquess stood up and went to the window, his hands behind his back.

  "Very well, Deckworth, if you want to play nasty I can play with the best of them," said the marchioness, her voice strident.

  "Your brother has an undue influence on you, Arabella, much more than I seem to have over you," said the marquess, resentfully.

  "If you don't do this for me I will not persuade Lady Silving to sell you the patch of land you need for the border pond, as I had promised I would do," she said, a triumphant smile on her face.

  "You are being ridiculous, Arabella, apart from breaking a promise you already made to me," said the marquess, turning back from the window, a furious look darkening his eyes.

  "I will not be the first in this family to break a promise."

  "But you gave your word to me, Arabella," pleaded the marquess. "You know no one in the world can talk Lady Silving into anything except you. The old crone listens to no one but you, even her brother declares it to be so. I must have that pond. It is of dire necessity to the estate."

  "About that house party…" said Arabella.

  CHAPTER 8

  Vera Castel, Lady de Compte and Cade Wester, Viscount Souten, were sitting in Lady de Compte's private parlor, discussing the Duke of Hawkinston.

  "But how is it that you know so little about the Duke of Hawkinston, Cade, when he is your stepmother's brother?"

  Souten raised his ample dark eyebrows. His eyebrows were in stark contrast to his pallor and his lips, which were of a high color, almost feminine in stark contrast to the angles of his face, which were a bit threatening. His nose was aquiline and his eyes were of a milky blue. They were iridescent like moonstone and this made them as expressionless as glass, giving his face a mask-like quality.

  "I hardly know him, Vera. He stays clear of me," said Souten, his eyes narrowing into hatred. "He has a dislike of me and goes out of his way to avoid me.

  "I can’t say I mind too much,” he added, “because were he to take more notice of me he would no doubt interfere in my relationship with my stepmother. The only reason I am interested in him now is because he has taken an interest in Violet. Anyway, you were saying he never dances?"

  "He seldom dances with anyone other than his Cyprians."

  "He never dances with any of the society matrons or the debutantes?"

  "Only on rare occasions," replied Lady de Compte, "and I have observed him for several seasons. I can’t say that he has ever taken any notice of me, although we were introduced some years ago.

&n
bsp; "Oh, wait," she added quickly, "I did see him dance once with her, with Violet. I don't think she can be classified as a courtesan now, can she?"

  "When was it that he danced with her?" asked Souten, sitting up.

  Lady de Compte noticed the intensity with which Cade was waiting for her answer. For some time now she had become aware that Cade had become obsessively in love with Violet and saw the duke as a rival.

  "It was a few days ago, at Lord Kelly's musicale," she said, making her voice casual. "I saw the duke gazing at Violet from a distance and then he strode over to where she was, surrounded by admirers. It was quite the talk. It appears he snatched her away from a young swain, to whom Violet had promised the supper waltz without so much as a by your leave."

  "He danced with her, then?"

  "Yes, but I did not see it, as Lady McKell reminded me of a chat I had promised her. She is obsessive about herbs and such and admires my expertise in that subject. I could not deny her as she holds many of my vowels. The duke left right after that waltz. Some say he was left in the middle of the dance floor, however, I cannot confirm that."

  "Left in the middle of the ballroom—the duke?" asked Souten, amazed.

  "That is how the gossip runs," answered Lady de Compte.

  "I want you to find out if that is true, Vera, that Violet left the duke in the middle of the dance floor or if it is only gossip."

  "Why is that so important?" asked Lady de Compte and quickly added,

  "Very well, Cade, I shall find out," she added, when Souten turned his penetrating stare on her, which made her very uncomfortable. She realized from the intensity of Cade's question that this bit of gossip, for some reason was very important to him. "And have you seen him approach her since?"

  "No, I have not, but they both have invitations to Lord and Lady Benniton's ball. Lord Benniton is a very close friend of Lord Arandale. That's one of the few dances of the season she attends. Most others are closed to her, and closed to her mother, as well, however much her mother is now 'Lady Kelly.'"

  "I want you to befriend her, Vera."

  "Befriend who?"

  "Lady Kelly."

  "Lady Kelly! Why, I could not! I would slip from my standing were I to befriend her—" Lady de Compte stopped mid-sentence at a look from Souten.

  "You’re asking too much,” she pleaded. “How can you seriously request I befriend a former courtesan—” At another look from Lord Souten Lady de Compte stopped again.

  "My friends will think I've gone mad, Cade, do consider," she said in almost a whisper.

  "You have friends?" asked the viscount.

  "I do have friends," said Vera. "Call them acquaintances if you must, but I do have many and also a—a—”

  "A reputation?"

  "Well…no, if you want to put it that way, but I do have a social position to uphold."

  "We both know that your position is as balanced as the deck of cards on which you rest your income, one poof and it can all be blown away should certain activities—”

  "All right," said Lady de Compte nervously, "But do hush, please, the servants listen at doorways."

  Lady de Compte was certain that Viscount Souten obtained funds illegally and was often involved with shady characters from Seven Dials. But she had no actual proof, even should she dare expose him. On the other hand, Cade had ample proof against her that would put her in an extremely difficult position should he choose to use it.

  "I'll do as you say," said Lady de Compte nervously. "I'll try to befriend that creature; but why not the girl, instead?"

  "I've found out from other men that Violet does not make friends easily. She seems to go out of her way to prevent anyone from getting close to her."

  "Ah—" Vera shifted her pose on the settee. "Very well. I shall try my best to become friends with her mother, Cade, although it may be difficult. I must wait for an opportunity so that it will look natural—”

  "Make and opportunity, Vera," interrupted Souten.

  "Ah—yes, of course," agreed Vera, "I shall try to do so tomorrow— I shall do so today," she amended at Souten’s stare.

  "I believe I shall run into her on Bond Street,” she added as beads of perspiration ran down her temples. “That is the place where she goes often now that the Season has started." Not that either she or her daughter attend many events, she thought. Lady de Compte's mind raced. She must advance this friendship with the notorious Lady Kelly in a secretive way that would not affect her own standing in society. She had a precarious position within the ton that could not withstand a friendship with that woman.

  * * *

  Later on that week, Souten handed Vera an invitation to the house party at Cynweir Castle.

  "Well!" said Lady de Compte, "I'm impressed, Cade, and an invitation for me, to boot! How did you accomplish it? I know that you have Lady Deckworth wrapped around your little finger but I thought Hawkinston would not allow it."

  "Dear Mama has her ways," said Souten with a satisfied grin. "So it's a sweet goer. Now you have only the enviable chore of choosing your wardrobe."

  "And I am to have monetary help with it?" Vera was increasingly apprehensive about her relationship to Lord Souten but her insatiable appetite for clothes and jewels and her gambling habit made her vulnerable. She was continually in need of funds and little access to them. This need often overshadowed her fears of what was getting to be a too cozy association with someone whom she was certain was a dangerous man.

  "Have you earned it? Have you done inroads into becoming Lady Kelly's bosom friend?"

  "We are going on a shopping spree to Bond Street and then tea at her house. How's that for a fast worker?" Lady de Compte twisted her head to one side coquettishly as she looked up at Cade. She did not add that she had made certain the shopping spree be at a day and hour when few in society ventured.

  "Good, good. I like that," said Souten with a smile, oblivious to Vera's flirting. "Yes, certainly you will have your shopping money, Vera." Souten was blind to every woman he knew except Violet, for whom he had a dangerous obsession.

  He had never been so completely and passionately aware of any woman before in his life, to the point where he believed life was meaningless without Violet. Sometimes, lying in bed at night, his thoughts became his prison. Longing for Violet had become so absorbing nothing else mattered for him anymore. Every single one of his actions was concentrated in the pursuit of Violet. He must assuage his passion with her, must have a climax to his every dream with her before he went mad by finally having her as his own in his arms and becoming one with her in his passion. He would not rest until this happened. And he knew there was little he would not do to make this happen, and soon.

  "I have particularly lusted after a yellow topaz necklace I would like to wear to the ball at Castle Cynweir," Vera was saying, as he was pulled back from his burning thoughts of Violet. "Is there a possibility of that, Cade? It would go perfectly with my cream yellow ball gown."

  "Well, I will see about that, also. But I better see some results for my money," answered Souten. He was in a high mood now and well disposed toward Lady de Compte.

  "You will."

  * * *

  "Our lives are galloping away from us in a way that I do not like, Mama," said Violet to her mother, over their tea. Outside, a spring shower was making everything misty gray, while inside, sitting beside a cozy fire, mother and daughter discussed the recent events.

  "It seems the invitation to Cynweir Castle is changing our perspective, my sweet. Lady de Compte, who would not give me a sidelong glance before, called on me and insisted I go shopping with her. What do you make of it?"

  "I don't like change that comes so suddenly, Mama," said Violet, a worried frown in her beautiful blue eyes. "What I did like, though, is that the invitation to Cynweir Castle carries Marchioness Deckworth's name as the hostess. This gives the house party a patina of respectability no one in society can ignore. I’m glad of it for Papa and your sakes, Mama, for it will go a long way to re
store you to society."

  "Well, not restore me, " answered Sadie, "For I was never in it. But it will open the door for us a bit so that your father will be restored to his own class again. Not all your painstaking lessons to me about deportment, grammar and manners can have the effect of this single invitation from the duke and his sister, the marchioness, my dear."

  "All that I am in wonder of and grateful to the duke for," said Violet, "although you cannot ignore the duke's intentions, Mama."

  "You are the mistress of your destiny, Vi. And you have hammered that into my head in the past years in which you have changed my point of view with your books and your teachings."

  "I am glad of that, at least, Mama. Glad that all I have worked for can now bear fruit. Society will see in you the lady you are. You gave me an education, often paying my tutors when you were in need of the funds for more pressing needs and never once did you think of discontinuing my lessons in French, Latin—I have often wondered, Mama, why you made certain my education was so complete, even at such an early age."

  "I wanted you to have an education to fall back on, my sweet, and perhaps find work as a governess for a cit's daughter—they are not too particular—and not be like your Mama. Oh, I had a partial education, until disaster befell my family and it was cut short. But that partial education helped me fight my way among the upper classes. But you have brought out the best in me, my dear, with your refined lessons in deportment. You have brought out the lady in me, if that is possible. Some would say that can’t be possible, that—"

  "A lady that was all along in you and just needed to be nurtured and brought out, Mama," interrupted Violet, for she well knew her mother would insist a harlot could never be a lady.

  But her mother sighed and said it anyway: "They will always see me as a whore, my sweet; that is the way of the world we dwell in. My family in France belonged to the gentry but that all dispersed in the wind when I had to go out to get bread for my brothers and sisters. Mama lay in bed with a fever and we had not heard from Papa in months. Later we found out he died of dysentery at sea, trying to scrape money for our survival.