Fate Is A Stranger: Regency Romance

by Gay, Gloria

  The same possessive look.

  Sadie shivered visibly, so that Violet, sipping her tea close to her on the bed, turned to look at her.

  "Mama, are you all right? You look pale."

  "Just the feeling, as they say, of someone walking over my grave."

  "Don't say that, please."

  "I’m sorry.”

  "Lord Souten is an unusual man, Vi," she added. “I remember when we met him in the park some weeks past. He acted strangely that time, staring at you so. How well does Jessica know him? I recall it was she who introduced him to us."

  "She hardly knows him. He went to school with Jessica's brother, Edgar. That's the extent of her acquaintance with him and as her brother is four years older than she, Jessie had little contact with Lord Souten."

  "He seems extremely taken with you," said Sadie, "and stares at you in an unhealthy way. I don’t like it one bit, Vi."

  "Nor do I, Mama. But don't worry so much over him. We’re at the castle and when this house party is over and we return to London, I shall make a point to avoid him."

  "I wish you could avoid him here, Vi. I believe he has an obsession with you that began when we first met him, at the park.

  "Promise me you will never be alone with that man," said Sadie, almost frantic. "I’m sorry I allowed Lady de Compte to convince me to a meeting with her and that awful man in the garden. Had I remembered him as the strange man we met at the park I would not have agreed to it."

  "I shall be glad to comply with that request, Mama," Violet said with an uneasy laugh.

  "This is serious, Vi, I don't think he's trustworthy. In fact, he may even be dangerous.”

  "I agree with you, Mama. He has a look of someone who would be lurking behind dark stairwells.

  "However, Jessica tells me that since he inherited the title and estate from his late uncle, his credit among the debutantes has gone up. He is considered to be one of the catches of the season, albeit not of the first tier. They are willing to overlook his chalky complexion and strange eyes it seems, to be mistress of his estate.

  "But don’t fret overly about him, Mama, for I always make certain I am not in a situation where I am alone with a man. I must make certain I do not give cause for gossip."

  Although, she mused, she had allowed herself to be alone with the duke. She had been able to stop herself in time but she might not be so lucky a second time. And Violet knew very well that it was not Hawkinston that she had to fear, but rather, herself, Just the thought that she would soon be dancing with him sent a thrill throughout her body.

  "Well," said Sadie, "You better start getting ready for the ball, Vi. I shall take a little nap while Maribel does your hair. She takes such a long time."

  Perhaps she was worrying needlessly, thought Sadie as she pulled the covers over herself and closed her eyes. Certainly their situation was vastly different now. They were not alone and helpless as when Shackel had forced Violet with threats and had struck Sadie in front of Violet, across the face, leaving a large welt on her cheek that had taken weeks to heal.

  She was now Lady Kelly, she reminded herself, not a courtesan as she had once been, with flimsy protection.

  Even after so many years, fear still ran cold through Sadie as she recalled Shackel and the past. Who is ever completely protected against evil, even inside the protective walls of a house guarded by servants? Because although Shackel was dead and in his grave, she now had Lord Souten to worry about.

  "Mama, you look pale," said Violet. "Stop thinking and let yourself sleep. We’ll not make any noise and I shall close the door to your room so that you will not be disturbed while Maribel works on my hair."

  But after Violet left, Sadie still could not sleep and fears continued to pile up in her mind. What if that strange man, Lord Souten, managed to be alone with Violet? Should she tell Kelly her fears? And what would Kelly do? Would he question Souten as to his intentions; threaten him?

  CHAPTER 12

  "Miss Durbin, I believe this is our dance."

  Violet felt a hundred eyes on her as the duke, having opened the dance with his sister, had then turned to Violet for the second dance.

  She felt shooting sparks up and down her arm as the duke took her hand and led her to the dance floor. Dreamily she realized she would always remember this night and how she was feeling at this moment, and how her heart was fighting her head.

  How easy it would be to give in and go with the flow of the duke's attentions to her. It was obvious he was infatuated with her. This moment was exquisite happiness.

  Violet drifted into the gauzy warm glow from the hundreds of candles, the music that floated like mist around them and the festive air of the evening.

  And the violets.

  Scented white roses for once served as a foil for the modest heavily scented tiny violets with their deep purple petals. Now the thousands upon thousands of violets looked regal and were like a poem set to color. For the first time in her life, Violet felt the force of someone else's love pulling her like a forceful gale.

  White and cream roses and the palest rose miniatures—and violets, everywhere. A person would have to be blind not to see the connection. The duke seemed not to care what people thought. Had he shouted his admiration from the highest peak, it would not have been louder.

  Everyone must see it, thought Violet, as the color rose on her cheeks. The ballroom was decorated in what seemed a tribute to her. The drawing rooms, parlors and hall, all decorated with splendid arrangements of beautiful violets in the center of beds of scented white or cream roses.

  For a moment she also felt sadness. How long would this infatuation last? And would she betray her father's trust even for the greatest love any man could give her?

  The answer could only be no.

  The duke’s eyes pulled her as they began their waltz. She smiled at him, secure in the knowledge that the duke had provided the answer. He would never offer a girl like her, marriage. He was a duke. The only offer he made would be to set her up in a lavish apartment as a kept woman. She well knew that he considered her to be of the demimonde and was never going to change his mind about that. It was set in stone.

  That was her shield, the never part of his plan. The duke was a powerful gale, but even a small violet knows when to duck from the wind and hide among the grass blades.

  "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life, Miss Durbin."

  "Thank you, your grace. My mother was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life when I was little girl. She was my entire world. Then she began to age and her beauty began to fade. Yet it did not matter to me then or now, because it was the beauty inside my mother that radiated toward me."

  "I am certain there is the same kind of beauty inside you as there is outside, Miss Durbin that will hold just as steady as it did in your mother."

  "Yet that is not the kind of beauty you were referring to when you referred to my beauty, was it?"

  "Touché!" said the duke with a short laugh. "But you judge me too harshly, Miss Durbin. Answers are never as simple as you believe them to be, nor are they always made of single reasons. Initially I was attracted to your beauty, for a man would have to be blind not to. Yet as I have come to know you better, your astounding beauty became only a part of what is attractive in you, not all of it."

  "You have taken great care with this ball," said Violet, changing the subject abruptly, for she was always uncomfortable when people spoke to her about her beauty. "There is harmony in everything—the music, the flower arrangements. The scent of the violets and roses is heady."

  "Well, I cannot take all the credit, Miss Durbin," said the duke with one of his rare laughs, "Most of it must go to my sister, who was in charge of the planning. She has been kind enough to incorporate one or two or my suggestions."

  One or two of the important decisions, thought Violet, unconvinced that the duke had not planned the ball in minute detail. Certainly the marchioness, who had nodded to Violet in a di
smissive way when she had been introduced to her would not have thought to make violets the overriding theme of the party, honoring Violet in such a way. But Violet said nothing, for mention of the marchioness now hung about them uncomfortably.

  Violet sensed that there had been an argument between the brother and sister and that the marchioness had been coerced into hosting this ball.

  Violet was very good at reading people and the marchioness was easy in that she carried resentment like a banner attached to her hair, which was dressed in an elaborate arrangement that was high above her forehead.

  She was tall, thin and regal and had transmitted a disdain to Violet that she hadn't bothered to disguise. The lady's pressed lips and upward-tilted chin as she looked down at her from beneath half-closed lids were as telling as the dismissive little nod.

  Violet was certain the marchioness considered her an interloper, as most in the ton did. In the few social occasions she had been permitted in the last five years, she had overheard several comments about her, describing her as an interloper, a by-blow and a mushroom.

  But the marchioness had at least nodded in greeting, however tersely. Her husband, the Marquess of Deckworth, on the other hand, had ignored her completely at the introduction. Violet was certain the duke had noticed this for he had pressed his lips slightly and unconsciously.

  * * *

  Lady de Compte still marveled at how sheer luck sometimes brought forth incredible opportunities if one kept one's ears open. She recalled the ease with which by mere chance she had found out the names in the guest list and then again by chance had overheard Lady Galena, daughter of the Earl of Maddington as she discussed her obsession with the Duke of Hawkinston with her mother. This had happened as Vera was passing by their bedroom door. True, Vera did wander the hallways, actively in search of such tidbits.

  The door had been ajar and Lady Galena and her mother were standing by it so that Lady de Compte was able to eavesdrop the whole conversation. She realized at the time that Lady Galena's obsessive pursuit of the duke was an interesting bit of information that could very well be like a valuable nugget, if she thought of how she could use it.

  She had then proceeded, through the connections she had, to find out as much as possible about Lady Galena and now had a very accurate picture of her as a self-important, attractive girl who was ambitious and arrogant. She was here alone with her mother and personal maids, the earl not being able to attend. She had arranged to be introduced to Galena the day before and now took the occasion to speak with her.

  "I’m so glad that we are able to have this little chat, Galena," she said, guiding the girl toward a side area between two pillars that was secluded. "We have a few minutes before the second set begins. It’s all right if I call you Galena, is it not?"

  "Of course, Lady de Compte, and I may call you Vera? "

  "Yes, certainly,” agreed Lady de Compte, with not a little surprise.

  The girl spoke frankly and a bit too assertively, for such a young age, thought Vera as they discussed the ball and shared acquaintances.

  “What is it that you wanted to talk to me about in confidence, Vera,” asked the girl."

  "Let us repair to the terrace, Galena, there is still time before the next set."

  Lady de Compte adjusted her shawl, for the night air was still chilly. "It seems we have the same aim in mind…" she began.

  "And that is? "

  "We both want to secure the Duke of Hawkinston for you, of course.”

  "Secure the Duke of Hawkinston for me?" asked Galena, wide-eyed.

  "Yes, my dear. I have become aware that you hold a tendre for his grace and…"

  "I beg your pardon, madam, but I find your words distasteful." Lady Galena turned to leave but Lady de Compte rushed to obstruct her path.

  "Hear me out before you leave, Galena," she said to the girl. She grabbed Galena by the arm so that Galena looked down with disdain at Lady de Compte's hand on her arm.

  "Release me at once, madam," she said.

  Lady de Compte let go of Galena's arm. “It has to do with the duke of Hawkinston. I have only your interests at heart."

  "I find that hard to believe, as I hardly know you," said Galena.

  "Strangers often have a better understanding of a situation. For instance, would you say your mama has an interest in you securing the duke's affection?"

  "Mama—she has other things to think about."

  "She does not have the interest in this I have, Galena, because I have an interest in the duke not securing the affections of a certain person—”

  "Who?"

  "Violet Durbin."

  "All right,” said Galena, “I'll hear you out, Vera, but be quick about it and answer this: why is it that you desire to secure the duke for me?"

  "You have the rank and beauty to awaken an interest in the duke for a possible matrimonial alliance, diverting him from his pursuit of Violet Durbin."

  "Marriage to me, if that should come about, does not preclude a liaison of the kind he is pursuing with her."

  "May I tell you something in extreme confidence, and will you promise not to reveal it to anyone?"

  "I cannot give my word on something blindly," said Lady Galena, looking highly annoyed, and added, "but you can go ahead and confide in me, for I am not a blabbermouth."

  "Very well, my dear," said Lady de Compte, thinking that she had rarely had an occasion to meet a girl as unpleasant as Lady Galena. "My dear friend, Lord Souten, do you know him?"

  "I believe I know him, but only slightly."

  “What is your opinion of him, Galena?"

  "I have none," answered Galena. "And now I must—"

  "I have known Lord Souten for many years and I particularly want to secure his happiness,” said Vera. “He, unlike the Duke of Hawkinston, is so in love with Violet that he is prepared to offer her matrimony if that is the only way to her heart."

  "And what is my interest in this business?" asked Galena, preparing to leave as she glanced toward the ballroom.

  "Lord Souten feels he cannot compete with a duke," said Vera.

  "I see. And you believe I can help Lord Souten more if the duke is diverted away from Violet." Lady Galena seemed now to become interested in Lady De Compte's words as she had not before.

  "How did you come to have this faith in me, when you hardly know me?"

  "Ah, but I do know you. I know that you are a clever girl and intent on marrying a duke, as befits the daughter of an earl."

  "And?"

  "And Violet stands in the way."

  "The duke will never marry a strumpet, nor will any gentleman in the ton."

  "Are you familiar with how Violet came to be a courtesan?"

  "I know she was instrumental in saving the Countess of Arandale from her kidnapper but that does not change the fact that Violet was born on the wrong side of the blanket."

  "Lord Souten is very much in love with Violet," replied Vera, "and he would marry Violet, if she would have him. That is where you come in.

  “And do not dismiss Violet's background so easily, my dear. Though her mother may have been a courtesan she is now a lady and her grandparents on both sides were of the French gentry, fallen on bad times, during the Terror."

  "I’m still not convinced, Vera. As for Lord Souten proposing matrimony to her, I will have to see it to believe it." But Vera noticed that Galena's words were now less emphatic.

  "Oh, very well," said Galena when Vera only looked at her. She now believed Lady de Compte could be valuable to her in securing the duke. It was best that she further her acquaintance with her. Her own mother was certainly of no help.

  "Who is your next dance with, Galena?"

  "With Sir Ciden."

  They returned to the ballroom and both stood gazing at the duke as they followed him with their eyes to where Violet was. It appeared he had the first waltz with her. "You must work your way close to the duke and Miss Durbin, Galena, and see what you can hear. Go on, Sir Ciden is on his
way to claim his dance with you."

  Lady de Compte stood by the area where the chaperones sat as Lady Galena danced with Sir Ciden, observing how the girl worked her way to the area where the duke and Violet were dancing in order to listen in on their conversation.

  Vera let out a long sigh of relief. The meeting with Lady Galena had been a trying ordeal for her. She wondered how any man would want to be married to such a grasping harridan and wondered if allying herself with her was wise. But then she remembered Souten and she realized that she didn’t have a choice.

  She must help Souten secure Violet in any way she could and coming upon the information that Galena was pursuing the duke had been a godsend. She must take advantage of it for Souten wanted results and she would be in trouble soon if she didn’t produce them.

  When the dance ended Vera saw Lady Galena working her way toward her.

  "They were only talking of her mother," whispered Galena to Vera with a twist of her mouth, as she leaned to tell Lady de Compte her gleanings from eavesdropping, "Nothing of importance."

  "Everything is of importance, my dear, let that be your first lesson."

  "In what way can talk of that lowborn girl's mother be of importance?" asked Galena, unconvinced.

  "Is the duke talking to you about your mother, Galena?" asked Vera. The girl was arrogant and unfeeling.

  A sudden realization appeared in Galena's face.

  "I see what you mean, Vera. In future, I shall consider everything spoken between the duke and that girl of importance and shall relate it word by word to you. I see now that I have no experience equal to yours in the weighing and meanings of words."

  "You are a fast learner, Galena."

  "My last governess thought so, right before I got her sacked." Galena laughed behind her fan. Her eyes, above the fan, looked pretty and demure, belying the frenzied workings of her mind.

  "Come, my dear, there is the duke by himself. I have an idea about securing a dance for you with him." She leaned and whispered into Galena's ear and they then directed their steps toward the duke, who was standing by himself near a pillar.