by Janet Woods
‘I don’t want to break hearts for it’s a most uncomfortable experience. At least,’ she amended, ‘I should imagine so.’
‘I had my heart broken once. I fell in love with a bread carter. One day he got drunk, toppled in the river and drowned.’
‘Oh, Millie, I’m so sorry. That’s tragic.’
‘I’m not. I found out later that he had a missus and five children at home, so it serves him right for deceiving us all. Arms up.’
Deftly, Millie slipped a filmy chemise over her head, then helped her into the corset and laced it tight. A skirt roll was tied around her waist and a robe slipped over. ‘I’m going to apply some cosmetics, just a little almond paste and rouge. I’ll pluck a few stray hairs from your eyebrows first.
‘Do you think I should wear cosmetics?’ Graine said doubtfully.
‘Everyone does in London. Besides, the color of that gown will make you look washed out otherwise. Just leave things to me, Miss. I know what I’m doing. I learned my trade from Madame La Seine of Paris, who used to work for the French court.’
Graine tried not to grin. ‘Madame La Seine was named after a river then?’
‘Well I’ll be jiggered,’ Millie said cheerfully. ‘It’s odd what people get named after, isn’t it?’
A little while later a remote and glittering stranger stared back at Graine from the mirror.
‘There,’ Millie said with obvious pride. ‘A pity you ain’t got any rubies to wear with that gown.’
Pampered, powdered, plucked, patched and perfumed, Graine felt grand and remote, certainly a different person than the one residing inside her skin. She might as well have been playing a deception all over again.
Her gown was sleek satin with an embroidered and beaded bodice. Her breasts were pushed up and gleamed palely. The black lace edging the neckline just skimmed her nipples, to which, for some reason, Millie had applied a little rouge. A powdered wig framed her face. Her own hair was drawn back and concealed under it. She felt uneasy about herself, but Evelyn had chosen this gown for her, and she couldn’t refuse to wear it without causing offence.
There was a posy of dark red rosebuds, brought up by a maid. ‘The earl would have sent these,’ Millie told her, deftly stitching a couple to a black velvet ribbon to tied to her wrist. The remainder was pinned to her bodice.
Although Graine’s heart had skipped a beat, she came back to earth when she went downstairs to discover that John Lamartine had arrived and Evelyn was carrying a similar posy of pink roses to match her gown.
The carriage bore them rapidly towards the venue. Evelyn looked elegantly regal in a gown of embroidered pale pink taffeta, with a scalloped collar and tiered skirt.
On the opposite seat, Harriet Lamartine sat with her son. She resembled a squat toad in an oily dark green. The hostile look Graine received for her greeting boded her nothing but ill.
Thankfully, Harriet said nothing to her for the whole journey. Instead, she fawned over Evelyn, ingratiating herself now the question of her son’s marriage was finally settled.
When they arrived, John and Evelyn were swept away by a crowd of well wishers. Harriet elbowed her aside and went to join a group of acquaintances.
Graine held back, hesitant, pretending to admire a painting of a country house. There were deer grazing on a lawn and she felt a sudden sharp pain at the thought of never seeing Rushford again. There was a curtained alcove set in a wall. Perhaps she could secret herself there, hide behind the curtain.
A hand gripped her elbow and she turned to find Saville. Dressed in black brocade embossed with silver thread, this aristocratic gentleman was a far cry from the man she’d fallen in love with at Rushford. The smile he gave her was a fractional twist of the lips. ‘Are you thinking you might avoid me, my fine lady?’
‘No … yes.’ Her heart began to do a strange dance in her breast. ‘Saville … My Lord.’ She drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves, met his eyes and floundered in banality ‘It was good of you to hold this ball for John and Evelyn.’
‘Not at all,’ he murmured and his eyes swept over her. Annoyance clouded them. ‘What has become of my Eve? She was too young for such a gown.’
‘I’m the same underneath.’
‘You look like a courtesan. You appear to have lost your innocence.’
It was the cruelest thing he could have said to her, but when she would have pulled away from him he tightened his grip. ‘No, my temptress. You’ve gained what you wanted, a fortune. Now you dress to attract a mate. We’ll see how well you can handle it.’
All Graine wanted was him, but he was so far out of her reach now that she wanted to howl with frustration.
‘Come, do not lurk here when you have dressed to be noticed,’ he said, guiding her unwilling feet towards the music. ‘Let’s see if we can find you a suitor or two.’
When she would have pulled back he dragged her forward. ‘The money should attract someone. If you can’t hook a husband with that, then you might have to settle for becoming someone’s mistress.’ His eyes suddenly slanted her way. ‘Mine perhaps.’
‘The Earl of Sedgely and Miss Graine Seaton,’ the usher announced.
Heads turned. There was a short period of silence, then a man whispered to his companion. ‘So that’s the bastard half-sister. She’s exquisite. Who was her mother?’
‘Some doxy who hung around the ports of Antigua, I believe. Her uncle owns the largest plantation in Antigua. The family has disowned her since birth I’m given to understand. What’s she doing with Sedgely?’
‘I’ve heard she’s his mistress and lives with him at Rushford.’
‘Lucky dog,’ the second man growled.
Harriet gave a braying, malicious laugh, which disappeared into the music struck up by the orchestra. Saville took a couple of glasses of wine from the tray of a passing footman and handed her one.
Face flaming, Graine whispered. ‘Was it you who told them?’
His face had turned to stone. ‘It was Harriet, I expect. She dislikes you with a passion.’ Turning to look down upon her, he said. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be this bad for you. Would you like me to escort you home?’
‘No, My Lord. Be damned to Harriet Lamartine. I’m glad she’s no relative of mine. As for you, you have the disposition and instinct of a dog. I will never settle for becoming anyone’s mistress, especially yours.’
Shaking her arm free she lifted her chin and swept across the floor.
The insult took his breath away. She didn’t mince words when roused to anger. His eyes narrowed. ‘We’ll see about that, my Eve,’ he murmured and lifted the glass to his lips.
When she reached the men who’d insulted her she stopped and stared at them, saying coldly, ‘I demand an apology. Bastard I may be, but I’m not, and never have been, mistress to the Earl of Sedgely. You are lying rumor-mongers, and in future should couch your remarks with more care, Sirs.’
Saville nearly choked on his wine. He started to chuckle when the men hastily rose to their feet, mouthing effusive apologies. It was going to be an interesting evening.
She nodded before continuing serenely on, to disappear into the crowd without a backward glance.
Chapter Twelve
The ball turned out to be the worst evening of Graine’s life. Apart from the Lamartine family and Evelyn, she knew nobody.
Now the news of her mother’s infamy had spread––and she was left in no doubt it was Harriet who’d spread the word for the woman obliquely reminded her of it at every opportunity. The women acknowledged her with icy courtesy before turning their backs on her, whilst the men subjected her to bold glances and innuendo. One went so far as to pinch her familiarly on the cheek.
Evelyn didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, lost as she was in her own popularity and happiness. Since she’d been in London, her sister had blossomed into a confident and warm-hearted person, who was hard to dislike. She and John seemed genuinely fond of each other.
Apar
t from Saville, who watched her progress with a look of annoyance on his face, John was the only one who noticed her predicament. As he tucked her arm in his, he said. ‘You seem to be finding it hard to cope, my dear. Let’s take a turn around the room. Perhaps we can find a quiet place where you can tell me what’s afoot, then I will see if something can be done about it.’ He beckoned to a footman. ‘Perhaps you would like some lemonade.’
A lump caught in her throat at his kindness, and when they were settled, she murmured, ‘It seems I must be made to suffer for my parents’ sins in public now. Will it never end?’
‘You must not mind them. They have nothing better to do than gossip.’
‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m ruining the evening for you.’ She pulled a determined smile to her face. ‘I’m so pleased you and Evelyn are suited so perfectly, because I like you, John Lamartine. Evelyn is a wonderful sister to me and I know she’ll be happy with you.’
He looked embarrassed. ‘I care for her more than I can ever express.’ He chuckled. ‘I never expected to feel like this about someone at my age. It’s quite strange.’
‘You are not so old, touching forty at the most.’ Then she remembered he was thirty-five and amended quickly, ‘Less. At the least, thirty perhaps.’
‘Quick-thinking, Miss Seaton. That puts me somewhere nicely in between, doesn’t it?’ And he waggled his eyebrows and gave her an ironic glance.
She giggled, not in the least bit put out at being caught out by him. He was certainly no fool.
‘And what of you, Miss Seaton, do you have plans for the future?’
Saville must have overheard the query for he took up position the other side of her and said, ‘No doubt she has, John. Miss Seaton’s good at planning her future, especially if it’s at the expense of another person.’
‘Saville,’ John remonstrated. ‘Am I given to understand from that remark that you’ve appointed yourself the inquisitor of your guest? Such remarks are unworthy of you.’
Saville gazed at her for a moment, the expression in his eyes turbulent. ‘My apology, Miss Seaton. I withdraw the remark.’
‘Perhaps you’d consider withdrawing yourself as well,’ she told him, and he gave a stiff little bow and left.
John sighed, ‘Insulting each other will cause irreparable damage between you.’
This cold, hard stranger was not the Saville who Graine had known and loved at Rushford. Gulping back her tears, she shrugged and gazed helplessly at John. ‘It’s my fault. I have disappointed him, I think.’ Which when all was said and done, was an understatement of the highest order.
John patted her hand. ‘He has disappointed himself, for he has it within himself to forgive, and is too proud to do so at the moment. When he has rationalized what has happened he’ll sort out what is important to him and swallow his pride. Then he will cease to be the tyrant.’
But to Graine, the gulf between them was now too wide to cross. “The tyrant is a child of pride, who drinks from his great sickening cup,” she quoted bitterly.
John smiled. “Recklessness and vanity, until from his high crest, headlong, he plummets to the dust of hope.” Sophocles, Miss Seaton?’
‘Indeed it is,’ She laughed at his surprise. ‘You need not sound so amazed. Women are not entirely stupid, you know.’
‘Most certainly, they are not, just unfortunate that they’re not given the opportunity to enlarge on their intelligence. Saville has told me your education is advanced and I look forward to discussing literature with you. ‘Are you familiar with the works of Plutarch?’
When she grimaced, he laughed. ‘Ah … I see that you are. Perhaps Shakespeare might be more to your taste, then.’
Graine decided not to mention Moll Flanders.
John stood when a footman approached, and relieved him of their lemonade, deciding he liked this troubled girl.
Saville hadn’t considered the effect that Graine’s appearance might have on him. The fact that he hadn’t seen her at any gatherings he’d attended served to heighten the impact of her appearance tonight. Her sophistication had not only taken his breath away, it drew the eyes of the men and the scandalized, but envious glances of every woman there.
He closed his eyes for a moment; her shoulders had the patina of ivory satin. She was exquisite, her innocence a shining revelation in the wicked wrapping of her gown. She was being put on display
How he’d burned for her when those remarks had been made, and was sure Harriet had instigated the gossip. He gazed at the woman now, noting the malice in her eyes as her glance first swept over Evelyn, then travelled on to where Graine stood talking to John.
Seated on gilt chairs in a secluded corner away from the dancing, the pair were sipping lemonade and engaging in an animated conversation. A smile touched his mouth. He hadn’t thought his reclusive cousin to be so socially adept. His stomach tightened when she smiled. Then John leaned forward and briefly kissed her cheek.
From the corner of his eye he saw Harriet rise from her chair and, with a determined look of her face, sail across the room to where the pair sat. It was obvious she’d been waiting an opportunity, for one elbow jogged under Graine’s. The glass she was holding tipped and the lemonade was spilled into her lap.
‘Such a clumsy creature,’ Harriet hissed, bringing heads swiveling towards them. ‘You have splashed my gown.’
But Harriet was not popular, and those who’d observed the mean act, disapproved. The opposite to that which Harriet had schemed for, happened. Soon, half-a-dozen sympathetic women, led by his sister, Charlotte, surrounded Graine. Handkerchiefs feathered as they tried to mop the liquid from her skirts.
‘It wasn’t my fault, I tripped,’ Harriet whined when she realized the consequence of her action had not gone in her favor. ‘The music is so loud and I have a headache.’
‘I expect you’ve had one glass of wine too many,’ Charlotte said loudly.
‘I expect so. My poor head is buzzing. Will you take me home, John?’
‘I cannot leave my guests, but will see you get away safely.’ To John’s credit he didn’t lose his temper, but led Graine to Evelyn’s side. ‘Please look after your sister whilst I see mamma to the carriage. I’ll be back shortly.’
‘But––’ Harriet began when he took her firmly by the elbow.
‘Don’t bother to argue, mamma. What you have just done is unforgivable.’ John steered her towards the exit.
By the time Saville reached them, Harriet had been bundled into a cloak and was being helped into the carriage.
Catching his eye when the carriage rolled away, John smiled with relief. ‘Miss Seaton is soaked through. Evelyn and I cannot leave our guests, so would you be good enough to escort her home so she can change.’
Graine joined them then, her gown badly marked. She was trembling, but more with suppressed anger than shock, for her eyes glinted and her body was tense as Evelyn eased her cloak around her shoulders.
‘I must apologize for my mamma,’ John said.
Graine knew how to use situations to her advantage, Saville noticed. With a touch of feminine artifice, she murmured prettily, ‘It was an accident, nothing more.’
John’s lips tightened. ‘You are too kind and forgiving, my dear. We all know it was not an accident, but a petty and spiteful act. The night is still young and Saville will escort you home to change. I expect you back in time for supper and dancing. Look after her please, Saville.’
Saville’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, just inclined his head.
When they were installed in the carriage she attempted to start a conversation. ‘John Lamartine is a different man than the one you led me to expect.’
‘Disconcerting, isn’t it, Miss Seaton? Your sister seems to have wrought miracles, for John has always needed bringing out of himself.’
‘So has Evelyn. She has changed much. The shipwreck seems to have changed her life. She is no longer meek, but has discovered a source of strength within herself.’
‘She’s lucky. Some only find weakness when put to the test.’
There, the conversation ended, mired in a slough of awkward uncertainty, so neither could express what was in their minds without meaningless talk. In the dark interior of the carriage they gazed at each other, regretting the consequences of the past, but unable to acknowledge the future.
When they reached the house in Hanover Square, she murmured, ‘Please convey my apologies to your cousin. I have developed a headache of my own, and will not be returning to the ball with you.’
There was a sudden swirl of energy inside the carriage as he leaned forward and took her wrist. ‘You lie too easily, Miss Seaton. You do not have a headache, you simply lack the courage to appear in public, especially with me.’
‘No, I––’ the words were strangled in her throat when he kissed her. It was a surprisingly gentle reminder of what they had once meant to each other–– of the power he had to keep her hopes and needs alive.
He drew back when the coachman opened the carriage door. His voice was low and savage. ‘You will change your gown and you will be escorted back to the ball by me. There, you will smile until your cheeks ache, and you will make meaningless talk until your breath dries up. You will flirt with me from behind your fan and dance until your feet are raw. In short, you will enjoy yourself whether you want to or not. I will not allow you to ruin this evening for John and Evelyn by indulging in anti-social and brattish behavior. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, My Lord,’ she said bitterly as he ushered her inside the house and up the stairs to her chamber.
‘And what’s more, I shall choose a gown which doesn’t make you resemble a London doxy on the prowl.’
Her blood came up at the insult. She gazed at him stony-faced. ‘One more insult and I’ll slap you.’
‘Will you, by God,’ he growled. ‘Pray be quiet or I’ll throw you over my knee and beat your bare backside until it’s black and blue.’
She opened her mouth, gasped at the threat, then hurriedly shut it again when he gave her a warning look. As soon as he looked away she said quietly. ‘Evelyn bought me this gown and insisted I wear it. It’s the latest fashion.’
