Antonio took the stairs two at a time, moving quickly toward his bedchamber while calling for his valet. “Haggerty! Attend me!”
Lady Elizabeth and Briella looked at each other with raised eyebrows. It was very unusual for Antonio to rush in order to get ready to attend a ball.
* * * *
The Nash residence on Grosvenor Square was a short walk from Weston House, but good manners dictated that the Thorndykes arrive by carriage.
The magnificent town house blazed with lights. The nearby streets were clogged with landaus, barouches and crested carriages, all with attendant coachmen and footmen.
The crush had diminished somewhat, but the Thorndykes still waited in the carriage line for almost a half hour. Antonio checked his pocket watch with escalating restlessness. Finally, they were able to leave the duke’s vehicle and step onto the red carpet leading to the mansion’s entrance. Antonio escorted his grandmother and sister into the Nash’s crowded foyer and up the central staircase.
A footman announced the new guests in stentorian tones. “His Grace, the Duke of Weston, Her Grace, Duchess Elizabeth Thorndyke, and Lady Briella Thorndyke.” The Nashes greeted Elizabeth, Briella, and Antonio, and they chatted for a few moments. The Thorndykes descended the five or six steps covered in gold carpet and paused before putting a foot onto the ballroom floor.
The massive room was decorated in gleaming amber and white. The walls were done in ivory with inset panels of gold brocade. Matching brocade swags lined a wall of French doors leading to a covered balcony adjoining the ballroom. Many of the doors were left open to catch a breeze.
Glimpsed from the street outside the town house, beautifully attired and bejeweled aristocrats whirled to the strains of Strauss waltzes. The ballroom was as bright as day, thanks to the many brass sconces emitting a golden glow. Most of London was now completely lit by gas. Three huge chandeliers hung in a line down the center of the ballroom, throwing brilliance into the corners of the giant room.
Heads craned. More than one pair of dancers missed a step, admiring the exotically handsome brother and sister entering the room with their regal, silver-haired grandmother. When the three reached the ballroom’s sunken, polished dance floor and started across it through the crowd, society matrons fairly bumped their heads together to whisper.
After seating Lady Elizabeth with her cronies, Antonio claimed the first waltz with Briella. The siblings were both graceful and exceptional dancers. The couple made a stunning picture. Briella had donned an intricately beaded and fringed gown of the palest ivory; Antonio wore stark black and white evening attire.
No one missed their entrance, including Caroline. She braced for a shock when she saw Antonio enter. She hadn’t expected to see him at the Nash do. Briella told Hal that the duke had gone back to Kent earlier today.
Caroline and Hal were guests of the Templetons while in London. They were joined at the Nash ball with friends of the Templetons, including the D’Arcys. So far, Caroline had declined to dance but promised Hal a waltz set later.
When the last strains of music ended, Hal said, “I’ll fetch Briella and Antonio, Caro. Briella is anxious to see you again. I must get to her before she’s surrounded with admirers, or I’ll never get through the crush. Wait here. I’ll be back in a few moments.”
Panicking, Caroline started toward the ladies’ retiring room then swiftly changed her mind. She’d have to face him sometime, so it may as well be now. It would be easier to avoid him later when she could lose herself in the crush of guests.
Caroline wore a pale lavender gown of textured silk. Black ruching edged the moderately low neckline. Long, white kid gloves encased her hands and reached past her elbows leaving only a few inches of skin between her gloves and the gown’s puffed sleeves. The skirt billowed over a hoop and several petticoats. The pleated, ivory net underskirt showed beneath swags of lavender fabric edged and bowed in black ribbon. A double strand of jet beads was clasped around her neck and dangling jet earbobs hung from her lobes. Her hair was swept high and looped in glistening, mahogany coils on her crown. Tiny tendrils had already escaped and curled invitingly on her nape. Caroline’s appearance at the Nashes’ on the arm of her brother had announced that she was coming out of deep mourning.
It took Hal an inordinately long time to fetch the Thorndykes, Caroline thought. The longer it took, the more nervous she became, anticipating her confrontation with the duke. “I say, Your Grace, good to see you again.” Simon stepped aside.
Caroline’s heart constricted painfully then accelerated. Her back was turned, and she had been facing Simon Templeton.
“Ahh, and Lady Briella.” Lord Templeton reached forward to kiss the air above Briella’s outstretched hand.
It was only polite that Caroline should turn to greet the Thorndykes. Antonio’s onyx gaze snared Caroline’s immediately. He grabbed her hand and bowed over it. “Lady Caroline, a pleasant surprise to find you here in London,” he said. His fingers squeezed hers intentionally as he brushed a polite kiss above her gloved knuckles.
“Your Grace.” Caroline nodded and gave a halfhearted curtsy. She was determined to act nonchalant though misgivings bubbled like effervescence through her veins. Noting that nary a smirk twitched Antonio’s lips, Caroline forcibly eased her hand from his grip.
Briella interrupted. “Oh, Caroline! I am muy happy to see you again! I’m having a wonderful time in London. Everything here is so new and exciting. Will you be staying long?” she rattled on. “I want so to visit with you.” She moved a step closer to Caroline. “Perhaps, we can ride together in the Park. We’ll do it tomorrow, shall we?”
Before Caroline could form an answer, she had to smile and nod her affirmation as Briella was swept away by a wave of young male admirers.
The orchestra struck up music for another set of waltzes. Hal glanced sideways at Caroline, but before he could ask, Antonio had reached for Caroline’s hand. “May I have this dance?”
“It’s already taken, Your Grace. Hal…”
“Oh,” her brother replied, politely. “I’ll defer to the duke, of course. You and I can dance another set later, Caro.”
If Caroline didn’t wish to avoid a scene, there was nothing else she could do. Antonio led her onto the floor while her rapidly leaping heart skipped around in her chest.
How sinfully handsome he is, she was forced to admit in silent admiration. I’ll wager his profile traces back to a replica of a Spanish conquistador on some ancient gold coin.
Having watched him waltzing with his sister, Caroline knew he was a superb dancer. Dear God! Was there nothing he wasn’t good at?
As Caroline turned into his arms, she was already trembling. She stumbled on the first turn, but Antonio covered her mistake, pulling her a little too close. He smiled down at her, his hand adding support as they began to glide through the steps of the waltz. Caroline soon felt the music gushing through her bloodstream, its silken chords binding them together as if they waltzed alone on the floor. She gazed over his shoulder, avoiding looking up at him.
Finally, he commanded, “Look at me, Caro; I want to see your eyes.”
Forcing herself to raise her lashes, she met his demand. Tonight she felt his dark orbs glowing with sensual warmth, recalling the velvet intensity inside them the day he came to discuss Briella’s sidesaddle with her. His white teeth gleamed in a gracious smile—this time without artifice or any sort of intimidation.
Caroline relaxed a little.
“Ah…that’s much better, querida. You needn’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”
As they waltzed, it seemed as if they were one, gliding smoothly over the floor together in perfect harmony like lovers. Caroline followed Antonio’s every movement, wondering why it was so fitting to be held close in his arms.
“Dancing with you is like holding a moonbeam, so light and responsive. Perhaps, we’ll dance again later, cara.”
Was that a question or a command? And had she misunderstood what he called her? Cara
or Caro?
Smiling, she let it go and said nothing. It was so exhilarating to be spun across the floor in the waltz again, and with such an expert dancer. The heady fragrance of his cologne, the sureness of his steps, the deep vibrations in his chest as he hummed the melody near her ear—Caroline’s senses thrummed with suppressed excitement.
It was happening again!
If only…but no, she would be on guard—on alert—ready to ward off any further emotional assaults.
Above the music and the buzz of conversation, Caroline heard his rapid breathing as he whirled her from one end of the ballroom to the other. Could it be his heart thudded in rhythm with hers?
She inhaled deeply, her breasts brushing his chest, and she missed a step but recovered in time. Antonio’s gloved hand rested near her waist. He should have held it higher, not where it lay so intimately, slightly above her lower back. Caroline felt the heat through the fabric of her gown, branding her skin with the pressure of his guiding palm.
Nothing in Caroline’s upbringing or her limited experience had prepared her for the hot blood of a mature Spaniard. She was thwarted at every turn trying to protect herself from him. And yet, never before had she experienced the excitement and reactions he evoked from her. Seeing the envious looks bestowed upon her from other ladies in the ballroom, Caroline bloomed with female pride, having garnered the undivided attention of the Duke of Weston if only for a few moments.
Caroline could almost hear what some of the women were thinking and wishing. I will be most happy to take your place, Caroline Lockler. I would dearly love to be held so close by that handsome rakehell with the eyes of a predator and the charm of a polished gentleman. Never mind. I plan to take him away from you.
“Are you enjoying yourself, Caro?”
She stumbled again, hearing his soft words while lost in her own musings. His deep voice jarred her back to reality as it had under the willows.
“Forgive me, Your Grace. How very awkward of me. Yes…yes…I am enjoying myself. Very much so,” she answered.
“I’m glad,” he said.
The waltz set was ending. Caroline couldn’t believe how sorry she was to leave his arms.
“Gracias. Thank you, Caro. I’ll call on you the day after tomorrow.” He didn’t ask permission or wait for a response, simply bowed over her hand after escorting her back to the Templetons and their friends, smiled at the group, begged to be excused, and left.
Caroline cast her eyes over the crowded ballroom later on but was unable to pick out Antonio’s dark head above the other men.
It was unnecessary to avoid him, because obviously, he had changed his mind and wouldn’t lead her onto the dance floor again. But then, why would he? Caroline asked herself. Of course, he didn’t care a fig about her. He was simply playing more of those taunting games with her. But in reality, she knew she cared. Could it because she had tromped all over his toes? How clumsy she’d been. A pang of disappointment lanced through her, but she kept smiling, aware that sharing a second dance together meant something more than it should have in the eyes of the ton.
* * * *
Leaving the ballroom after a single dance with Caroline, Antonio went to his club on St. James’s. He sent the ducal coach back to the Nashes’, offering Hal the use of his carriage following the ball and asking him to see Lady Elizabeth and Briella home.
During the carriage ride, Caroline and Briella confirmed their riding appointment for the next morning. “I’m curious to see how you’ve taken to Mr. Leathem’s saddle,” Caroline commented.
“I shall be pleased to hear your comments, Caroline, if I’m not sitting in it properly. I look forward to our outing.”
Hal escorted Caroline to the Templetons’ town house where they were staying as guests. Making a second stop, he hopped down from the duke’s carriage in the front of Weston House and accompanied Lady Elizabeth and Briella to the door, then headed for more significant nightlife on St. James’s Place, meeting Antonio for a nightcap or two at their club.
Chapter 12
“Are you ready to leave, Caro? We don’t want to keep Briella waiting in the park,” Hal said, pacing the foyer in the town house on Berkeley Square. Caroline was coming out of the breakfast room, saying her goodbyes to Genevieve and Simon. “I’m ready, Hal. Have the horses been brought round front?”
“They await your pleasure, sister dear.” He grinned with a deep bow as she marched toward him as if she were Queen Victoria. Teasing, he removed his beaver hat at the door and mimicked a courtier’s sweeping gesture with it.
She chortled at her brother’s foolishness and strolled past him in her new riding dress—a rich, dark blue outfit with touches of pale rose at collar, cuffs, and pocket flaps.
“You look splendid in that outfit,” Hal remarked, noting his sister wore a stylish, high-crowned toque that matched her habit. Several deep pink feathers reached almost as high as the hat’s crown. They fluttered in the air as she strode down the front steps.
One of the Templetons’ grooms held a big chestnut gelding Caroline was to ride. She walked forward onto the mounting block, settled into the sidesaddle, and grasped the reins.
Hal mounted a rather fractious bay, also from Simon Templeton’s stable. It took the earl a few moments to take him in hand and get him quiet. Together, sister and brother then started out of the Square for Hyde Park’s Rotten Row.
It was a delightful morning in London for a change. There was a slight breeze, which may have been the reason the usual smoky pall that hung over the city seemed less noticeable. The trees were in full leaf and the gardens surrounding the town houses in Mayfair blossomed with colorful bushes and flowering plants. The scent of low-growing lavender permeated the air. Spread by the soft wind, its perfume wafted into the busy thoroughfare and smothered some of the more unpleasant odors the city had to offer.
It was a short ride to the park. Riders out to make the best of the lovely summer day joined Caroline and Hal. It was impossible to miss the duke’s sister, not only because of the gaggle of young bucks on their hot-blooded Thoroughbreds ranged around her, but also because of the magnificent gray horse Briella rode.
“Oh, there! I see her now, Hal.” Caroline had never laid eyes on a horse of the type before, and she was excited and entranced. “Look at the beautiful mount she’s on!”
“Yes. It’s one of the Andalusians Tony brought with him from Spain. Several are stabled at Westhaven. You didn’t see them the day we were invited to visit. If I recall, a megrim denied you that pleasure.”
Caroline remembered crying off because she didn’t wish to see the duke again so soon after the uncomfortable episode in Hal’s study.
Briella waved, greeting Hal and Caroline. Hal saluted several of his acquaintances in the group that surrounded Antonio’s sister. The males crowed, laughed, and joked amongst themselves, waiting for Briella’s signal to begin the morning’s outing. Her Spanish groom sat nearby on another of the handsome Andalusians. However, as soon as Briella saw Caroline, she tapped her mare on the shoulder and moved away from her attentive coterie of admirers.
“Caroline, I’m muy alegre to ride with you. Come, let’s leave these noisy caballeros and find a place where we can converse without interruption.” She’d brought her mare next to the chestnut gelding, and the two women moved onto the bridle path at a brisk walk, leaving Hal and the rest of the young nobles to trail behind with Tomas.
Caroline thought Briella even more stunning this morning. Her emerald green riding outfit was trimmed with black braid and gold buttons. The white stock underscored her honey-toned complexion. There was a rosy blush high on her cheeks. Seeing her color up, Caroline wasn’t certain whether the outing brought it on, or if it was due to the many compliments aimed at the young beauty.
“How do I look?” Briella asked Caroline.
“Why, you look wonderful!” Caroline answered.
“Oh, nada, no, Caroline,” she giggled. “I didn’t mean that! I asked if I sit Mister L
eathem’s saddle correctly.”
Caroline realized Briella had no puffed-up ego. She was delightfully fresh and unaffected—and gloriously, exotically beautiful—a female copy of her brother’s handsome countenance.
“Indeed, you look fine, Briella. Is it easier for you to ride sidesaddle now?”
“Si, si, Caroline. What a difference! I can’t thank you enough. I had the saddle before we came to London, but Grandmama kept me so busy, I was unable to sit in it until we got here.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to say goodbye before we left Westhaven.”
“I surmised it would be the case, Briella, so don’t concern yourself. I understand perfectly. But, tell me,” Caroline went on, changing the subject. “What is this beautiful animal you ride? It’s a breed I’ve never seen. Hal says it came from your homeland.”
“Si, Caroline, this is Elegancia. She was bred on my grandfather’s estancia near Seville. She’s young yet, only five, but has…mucho garbo. How do you say it? Much grace. Don’t you agree?”
“Oh, indeed I do,” Caroline agreed. “She’s very different from our English bloodstock. Has she taken to the sidesaddle?”
“Si. One of the most wonderful characteristics of our Andalusians is their obedience and docility. Most are muy tranquilo, even the stallions. They are all…” Briella hesitated, searching for the correct English meaning. “Easy going,” she finished with a smile. “When I come back to Westhaven, if I can persuade Antonio to let me ride astride, I’ll show you what our beautiful Andalusians can do.”
“I would like that very much, Briella. Thank you.”
Soon, admirers surrounded both young women. Briella spread her charm and attention amongst them. Hal, Caroline noticed, received his share of sweet words and open smiles. She wondered if her brother was considering an offer of marriage for Briella. Caroline was unable to pry an answer from Hal, but she saw no favoritism on Briella’s part or any special treatment given to a single admirer.
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