by Diane Gaston
‘What do you know of his family? I have heard gossip about his father—’
Celia put up a hand. ‘I am certain there was plenty of gossip about Adele’s father, as well. If there is anything to cause undue concern, we will discuss it with Adele. She is a sensible young woman.’
‘She is too young—’ Lady Gale began again.
Celia levelled a gaze at her mother-in-law. ‘Lady Gale, I was younger than Adele and I assure you I knew my own mind.’
The woman’s eyes flashed. ‘Hmmph! My son should never have married you.’
‘Indeed.’ Celia did not miss a beat. ‘He was a great deal older than Adele’s nineteen years and look what an unwise choice he made.’
‘That was your fault,’ Lady Gale countered. ‘You bewitched him.’
Celia stared at her. ‘Do not be absurd. I was seventeen. I did not choose him. I was not even given a choice. Adele will have a choice. Do not interfere or you will have to answer to me.’
Lady Gale spun around and made her way to the door. Before she crossed the threshold she turned back in a dramatic flourish. ‘You have not heard the last of this from me.’
After she stormed out and closed the door behind her, Celia whispered, ‘I agree. I have not heard the last, because you will never leave it alone.’
Chapter Ten
The next three weeks settled into a predictable routine for Celia, encompassing her greatest happiness, but also her greatest risk. Each night she entered the gaming house she risked losing control over her gambling, but when her night was finished she found unspeakable pleasure in Rhys’s arms.
She stayed away from the hazard table as often as she could, but sometimes the gentlemen gambling there, Lord Westleigh especially, insisted she play.
‘Madame Fortune,’ they implored. ‘We need you at hazard. We need your magic touch.’
She continued to win more than she lost, but she thought this was because she forced herself to stop as soon as the euphoria of the game bubbled inside her. It was always a struggle, but the other gamblers began to respect her skill at card playing as well as her luck at the dice, and their pressure to play hazard eased somewhat.
They also quickly learned that Madame Fortune had become Rhysdale’s lover, preventing any attempts at flirtation. None wanted to offend the gaming-house owner. It suited Celia very well that she did not become an object of seduction like the woman Rhys had told her about, the one who inspired his idea for the Masquerade Club.
Neddington often came to the Masquerade Club, but Celia never saw him play. He talked to other patrons and watched others gamble, but never did so himself. She was relieved for Adele’s sake, especially because the two were becoming more and more attached.
Life was splendid at the moment, even if the Season demanded ever more expenditures and the coach required an expensive repair. Other bills were paid. Adele was in raptures over Neddington and even Lady Gale’s taunting could not spoil Celia’s optimism.
Celia indulged Lady Gale in as many new gowns as she wished, as she did Adele and even herself, although at times she reminded herself too much of her father on a spending binge. She rationalised that looking prosperous for society was still an investment in Adele’s future. Celia herself wanted to look presentable to society, but even more she wanted the gowns designed specifically for the night to look alluring. For Rhys. She delighted in night-time costumes in fabrics of vibrant red, blue or green, with matching masks that grew more elaborate as Younie came up with new ideas for how to make them.
It pleased her when her appearance caused Rhys’s eyes to darken with desire as it had this night, when she’d walked in wearing a midnight-blue silk dress embroidered at the hem and bodice with pink roses. Her mask matched the pink and was bordered with tiny green embroidered leaves. It thrilled Celia when Rhys later removed her dress and gazed upon her with reverence.
He constantly surprised her in his ability to delight her and be delighted by her. Celia’s old fears about lovemaking had vanished completely. Rhys would never hurt her. Never.
This night brought on yet another new experience.
He was not gentle.
And she did not care.
Their lovemaking took on an urgency, a frenzy that had been entirely new to her. It was she who pushed him, almost violent in her need. She rushed them towards their release as if time was running out, even though the night was young. The pleasure that burst forth from her came with a new intensity. No sooner had they finished than she wanted more.
It felt to Celia that her body had changed into one that always wanted more, more, more.
This night her lovemaking with Rhys was wild with sensuality. The violence of it all was evident in the tangled bed linens and the aching of her womanly parts. She did not feel pain, precisely—nothing like it had been with Gale. But it seemed as if Rhys could not make love to her fast enough or hard enough or often enough.
She’d just propelled them towards another frenzied release when he collapsed atop her and slid to her side. ‘I never thought I would say it, but I am worn out.’
She lay back, still throbbing, still needing. ‘I do not know what has happened. It feels different. More—more intense. I cannot explain it.’ It reminded her disturbingly of when she lost control of her gambling.
He rolled towards her and caressed her face. ‘I do not complain of it. You are magnificent.’
She smiled. ‘You have heard me say this before. I never imagined lovemaking could feel like this.’
He kissed her lips. ‘You have mentioned it. Almost every night.’
She pushed on his chest. ‘But this is different.’
He kissed her again. ‘It certainly is different.’
If he continued she would start all over again.
The clock struck four. She sat up and the room swam. ‘I must go.’
He pulled on his trousers. ‘Will you come this night?’ he asked.
She nodded.
Unexpectedly her stomach roiled.
Oh, no, please! She did not wish to be ill. She pressed her hand on her abdomen, hoping he did not notice.
‘Although I may be later than usual,’ she answered aloud.
She never explained why and he never asked.
He kissed her. ‘I will wait for you.’
She dressed with his help, always an intimate experience. He tied her mask on last. It came off only when she was in his private rooms.
When he walked her down the stairs, she gripped the rail to keep herself steady.
He noticed. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’
‘Just tired, I expect.’ She smiled. ‘Worn out.’
He grinned. ‘I know precisely how you feel.’
When they reached the hall Xavier was just leaving with Belinda, the croupier at the hazard table. Celia still felt tension from Xavier, but at least he’d stopped watching her so closely.
When Rhys walked her out into the night air, Celia felt much better. Her carriage came quickly and her kiss goodbye was hurried.
The carriage ride did nothing to help her stomach feel any better, though. She could not be ill! Tonight was a ball Neddington’s family was giving and Adele would simply perish if Celia were unable to attend.
* * *
That evening Ned invited himself to dine with Adele and her family. He’d hinted very strongly to Adele that it would be a good idea for him to dine with her and her family before the ball.
He wanted plenty of time to talk with them.
At the dinner table, the subject of the ball that night inevitably came up.
He took it as his opening. ‘I need to warn you about something.’
Adele’s grandmother rolled her eyes. ‘I knew all was not well,’ she said not quietly enough to prevent his hearing.
He swallowed. ‘I—I told you my father was not the best of men—’
‘Indeed,’ commented Adele’s grandmother.
It pained Ned that the Dowager Lady Gale still did not like him, al
though Ned had tried every way he knew to get in her good graces. What he was about to tell them was not going to help.
He took a breath. Might as well come out and say it straight off. ‘I must inform you that my father had a natural child.’
The dowager shrugged. ‘He is a reprobate. Everyone knows this.’
‘Grandmama!’ Adele cried. ‘Do not speak so!’
‘Neddington is our guest,’ warned Adele’s stepmother.
Ned turned to Adele’s grandmother. ‘I must agree with you, ma’am. My father is a reprobate. I do not blame you for holding it against me. I can only say that I am not like him.’
‘I am sure great numbers of gentlemen have natural children,’ Adele said.
He faced Adele. ‘You may meet my father’s natural son tonight.’ There. He had said it. ‘He is to be introduced. At the ball.’
Adele’s grandmother pursed her lips in disapproval. ‘Hmmph!’
He turned back to her. ‘I will not present him to you if you do not wish it, ma’am.’
‘I certainly do not wish it!’
‘I do not mind,’ Adele piped up. ‘If you wish to present him to me, I do not object. And neither does Celia. Is that not correct, Celia?’
‘Whatever you wish, Adele,’ Adele’s stepmother responded.
She looked ill to Ned, although she denied it. She merely picked at her food.
‘I, for one, am eager to meet your family at last.’ Adele gazed at him with eyes full of affection.
How was he to wait to wed her? Perhaps he could ask Rhys if the profits of the gaming house would increase soon. Perhaps it would be enough.
‘I am particularly eager to meet your sister,’ Adele added.
‘You have a sister?’ her stepmother asked.
‘Phillipa,’ Ned responded. ‘She is not much in society, but my mother wishes her to attend the ball.’
‘I suppose something is wrong with her,’ Adele’s grandmother said sarcastically.
Ned was determined to tell them all. ‘She suffered a terrible...accident when she was a child.’ It had been an attack, a mysterious one. His family never spoke of it. ‘She has a scar that disfigures her face.’
‘Oh, how terribly sad!’ exclaimed Adele. ‘I am sure I will love her all the same.’
When she said things like this, Ned could only adore Adele more.
He disliked that this shameful family event—introducing Rhys—had to take place the same night he was to present Adele to his parents. He was sorry he had to tell her grandmother all about Rhys and his sister, not that Phillipa was to blame for what happened to her. The grandmother would certainly use this information to try to influence Adele to marry her cousin instead of him. Ned could not bear that.
Worse, even her cousin was invited to the ball. So, Luther, too, would learn that the proprietor of the new gaming house was Ned’s illegitimate brother.
At least the women would not know about the gaming house. Unless they were among the masked women who attended the club to gamble.
He chuckled inwardly at that impossibility.
* * *
Rhys and Xavier waited in the drawing room, which had been transformed into a ballroom. The folding doors between it and the formal dining room had been opened, creating a space double the size. The carpets had been rolled up and removed, as had the larger pieces of furniture. All the small tables, chairs and sofas had been pushed to the walls.
Standing in the space, at the moment empty, made their presence stand out all the more.
‘I hope you know what you are doing with this,’ Xavier remarked. ‘You’ve always disdained society.’
Xavier, whose pedigree entitled him to be included in the highest of social circles, had not mixed much in society since the war. He attended this event only because of Rhys.
‘Acceptance in society is not the objective, as you know.’ At this point, the event was merely something to get through, the next step in a road he’d set upon the evening Ned and Hugh asked him to run the gaming house.
Xavier shook his head. ‘Reaching an objective can sometimes involve unintended consequences.’
Rhys was losing patience with his friend. ‘Xavier, I need you as a friend, not a nursemaid.’
‘I am not so certain,’ Xavier muttered, turning away and pretending to look at some inconsequential piece of chinoiserie.
Someone approached the door and both men turned to see who it was.
A young woman in a ballgown of pale blue silk. Her presence was lovely, but for a crooked scar that started below her eye and ended near her mouth. Rhys knew immediately who this was.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, taking a step back and staring directly at Xavier. ‘I thought my parents were already here.’
‘Phillipa.’ His half-sister.
She glanced at Rhys and her eyes widened. ‘You must be—’
He stepped forwards. ‘I am Rhys.’ He surveyed her. ‘But I remember you as a little girl I sometimes saw in the village.’
‘I do not remember you at all.’ Her gaze slipped to Xavier. ‘But I know who you are now.’
Xavier returned her gaze and became unusually silent.
Rhys spoke to her again. ‘I hope my presence does not cause you undue discomfort, Phillipa. If so, I am sorry for it.’
She lifted one shoulder. ‘It is I who usually cause discomfort. That is why I rarely attend events such as this.’
He extended his arm towards Xavier. ‘Allow me to present my friend, Mr Campion.’
‘We are acquainted,’ Xavier said, stepping forwards. He’d never mentioned that fact to Rhys. ‘Miss Westleigh. It is a pleasure.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘How do you do, Mr Campion.’
It was not the sort of reception Xavier usually received from ladies.
‘You are known to each other?’ Rhys gave Xavier a glance. ‘How interesting.’
‘Since we were children,’ Xavier explained. ‘Our families often summered at Brighton at the same time.’
‘And most recently in 1814,’ Phillipa added. ‘Perhaps you do not recall, though.’
Xavier met her gaze. ‘I recall. I was briefly in London.’
Rhys looked from one to the other. This was fascinating. Would Xavier tell him what happened between these two? It was obvious something had. To Rhys’s surprise he felt a protective brotherly impulse. Had Xavier ill-used her? He’d certainly done something to cause this chilly treatment.
At that moment, Hugh entered the room and after him the Westleigh butler and several musicians.
Hugh walked directly to his sister. ‘I did not know you were here, Phillipa.’
‘I thought I was late, but no one was here...except...’
Hugh turned to Rhys and inclined his head. ‘Rhys.’
Rhys returned the gesture.
Hugh looked discomfited. Once Rhys would have relished putting Hugh out of ease, in repayment for all the fights Hugh had picked with him when they were boys. But Hugh had restrained himself lately.
Hugh shook hands with Xavier. ‘Campion. Good of you to come.’ He looked back at his sister. ‘Papa is stalling and Mama is dealing with him.’
‘Ned?’ she asked.
‘He rushed in a little while ago. I expect he is getting dressed.’
The musicians set up their instruments and began tuning them. Other servants came in, carrying trays of wine glasses.
Hugh stopped one of them. ‘We might as well have a glass while we wait.’
Xavier handed a glass to Phillipa, but she waved it away. Rhys welcomed the refreshment. He was not plagued by nerves, but seemed to be catching the discomfort of all three of his companions. Frankly, Xavier had been more correct than Rhys wanted to admit. This had been a foolish idea.
Lady Westleigh swept in, followed by a dour-looking Lord Westleigh.
He bowed to his hostess. ‘Ma’am.’
She extended her hand to him. ‘Rhys. Your night has come. I hope it is to your satisfaction.’
&nbs
p; He clasped her hand. ‘Thank you, my lady.’
Xavier stepped forwards to greet her.
‘I expect your parents to attend tonight,’ Lady Westleigh told Xavier.
‘As they told me, ma’am,’ Xavier responded.
Rhys and Xavier had dined with them only a week ago.
She turned to her daughter. ‘Phillipa, you forgot your headpiece. After the milliner worked so carefully on it.’
‘The feather irritated my face,’ Phillipa retorted, her hand touching her scar. ‘Besides, everyone knows of my scar. Why should I hide it?’
Rhys looked at his half-sister with new admiration. The young woman had pluck.
Lord Westleigh, Rhys noticed, did not greet him, but instead contented himself with glowering.
Lady Westleigh turned away from her daughter. ‘Rhys, I thought we would have you stand in the receiving line with the rest of us. We will greet our guests as a family and Charles will introduce you to each guest in turn. Will that do?’
He preferred that to a general announcement. For one thing, it forced his father to do the right thing over and over and over. ‘It seems an excellent idea, ma’am.’
Of all the Westleighs, it was Lady Westleigh who seemed the least affected by this uncomfortable situation. Rhys liked her, he realised. She faced the occasion like a soldier.
‘Where is Ned?’ She glanced around impatiently. ‘I can hear the carriages pulling up to the door.’
‘I am here, Mama.’ Ned rushed in, still pulling at his sleeves and straightening his coat.
Xavier gave Rhys one more sceptical glance before wandering away from the family.
Lady Westleigh positioned them all in order. She stood first, then her husband. She placed Rhys next to Lord Westleigh, then Ned, even though etiquette would have put Rhys lowest. After Ned came Hugh and Phillipa.
As the guests arrived, Lady Westleigh made certain her husband did not skip a single introduction, although he tried. Some of the gentlemen and a few of the ladies reacted with recognition. A few even said, ‘Ah, the proprietor of the Masquerade Club!’
The entire process became tedious as it went on. Ned, for one, fidgeted and spent a great deal of the time leaning over to see who next approached the door.
