“Good. There should also be a delivery for you shortly, from Hamish.” Quinn winked but would be drawn no more, even when threatened with the newspaper.
Aster sighed and returned to her work. She encoded the last name and hid the new list under the book’s frontispiece. The commotion along the hall made her poke her head out of the library where she worked. Hamish’s delivery had arrived.
The butler held an enormous rectangular box, tied with a red ribbon.
“Open it, Aster, come on.” Aunt Maggie grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the butler.
She undid the satin ribbon and lifted away the lid. Inside was a layer of delicate tissue paper, which she peeled away with one hand.
“Oh.” Inside lay a beautiful dress, unlike anything she had ever owned. Her heart tightened in her chest and she loved Hamish just a little more.
Aunt Maggie clapped her hands in delight and leapt into action. She commanded a flurry of activity as Aster was stripped, bathed, dressed, and made suitable. All the while, Dougal hid in a corner, lest a bath be inflicted on him as well.
Some hours later, Aster stared at the stranger in the mirror, a woman she had never met. The deep green silk of the dress was embroidered around the neckline in a paler green. Vines and leaves rioted around the edge and tumbled down one side to the ground. Her dark hair was piled high, with a few curls artfully left to fall around her ears. A spray of leaves, matching the design on the dress, sat in her hair. Long gloves of pale green came to her elbows.
She had not seen Hamish since the day he had delivered her to his aunt. He stayed away so as not to draw attention to where she and Quinn resided. The restrictions chafed, and she longed to see him. At night the ache in her body drove her to distraction. Need bubbled to the surface until she clawed at her nightgown. She pressed her hand to her flesh and remembered Hamish’s gentle touch as she sought to satisfy the hunger. Apart from the physical ache, emptiness grew in her soul. She missed him. Part of her cried out to hear his voice, and to have his presence fill the void within her, just as his body had completed her.
She put one hand to her chest. Her heart pounded underneath her fingers. So much rested on tonight—not just her freedom, but Quinn’s life. Taking one last look and a deep breath, she left the room and descended the stairs. Quinn, her fictitious brother, waited below. He was handsome in his formal attire and snowy cravat. Even his riotous hair had been partially brought under control by the liberal application of hair wax.
“You look gorgeous. Hamish will spend all night growling at any man who gets near you.” He kissed her cheek as he took her hand.
“I only want one man near me.” The mere mention of Hamish’s name made her pulse thrum through her body. Everything had changed with one passionate night at the cottage. When he had galloped along the ridge, hard on the heels of Dougal, she’d realised she loved him. Every day her love grew a little more, like a well-tended seedling.
Laughter crinkled the corners of Quinn’s eyes. “Remember he does not know you. Try not to make him lunge at anyone out of jealously. We wolves are supposed to show we can behave in polite society. If he pulls off his clothes and goes on a naked rampage it might not sit well with the ton.”
Aster smiled to think she would attract the attention of anyone, let alone inspire such jealousy that Hamish might change form to fend off other suitors. She handed over the little volume of the Iliad. Only the tiniest tremor betrayed her nerves. “The new list is hidden in the frontispiece.”
Quinn tucked the book in the inside pocket of his jacket, then he met her gaze. “Scared?”
“Terrified.”
He laid a hand on the silk at his throat. “Don’t worry, it’s my neck on the line.”
“Actually, that’s not the entirety of it.” The tremor moved up her arm.
“Oh?” He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I have never been to a ball. I only know one or two country dances, and nothing new or fancy.” Amongst these men, they forgot she was not one of them. Her life was dictated by work and fictional events in the latest novel. Balls, parties, and dances were things of dreams and make-believe. It was one thing to read about a ball and the dances performed, quite another thing to dance in real life.
“I will look after my sister.” He winked.
Aunt Maggie appeared in the drawing room doorway. “Oh, but you look marvellous.” She rushed over and hugged Aster and kissed Quinn’s cheek. “You’re not quite as handsome as our Ewan, but you make up for it with youthful exuberance.”
“The dress is beautiful,” Aster said, picking at the silk.
“The colour is an incredible compliment to your eyes; men will be drawn to you like star gazers to a clear night sky. Hamish did a fine job. I just wonder how on earth he knew your exact measurements?” The old woman nudged Aster’s arm and winked in an obvious fashion.
Aster blushed. “A lucky guess, I’m sure. Plus the empire line is rather forgiving.”
Aunt Maggie signalled the butler to call the carriage around. “Watch over her, Quinn. Men will be wanting to scratch their names on her dance card.”
“I doubt it. I imagine I will spend most of the night trying to blend in with the wallpaper.” Aster longed for a large family, not the attention of men at a ball. There was only one partner she would ever desire.
“No you won’t, lass,” Margaret said with another conspiratorial wink. “You’ll be dancing and making him jealous.”
Quinn patted her hand and drew her to the door. “Don’t fret, Aster, none of us have a voucher for Almack’s—well, except for Ewan. We are not moving in the highest circles of the ton. Tonight’s event will be full of people just like you and me. Second sons trying to make their way in the world and women with no dowries to offer, only their wit and beauty.”
Her pulse slowed with his soft words and description. There was something comforting in knowing those present tonight were ordinary folk like her, making the best they could of the hand dealt to them by life. Would they know Unnaturals moved among them?
“Now I feel overdressed,” she laughed.
“An intelligent woman is never overdressed,” Aunt Maggie said. “And don’t let any of them look down their noses at you. Just think how many of them could crack that coded list.” She tapped the side of her nose and Aster called her earlier words to mind, about a woman with her nose too high in the air to see Hamish right underneath it.
Quinn smiled, and it was large enough to warm her. “You will be a standout among them, but I am afraid your gender is ever critical of appearance, whatever level of society they hold. I believe even bobtails on a street corner will appraise each other.”
“Do men not undertake a similar comparison of each other?” She was curious. Women often cut each other with a sharp word; she’d learned that in her time at the boarding house. Often one resident would be reduced to tears by another.
His brows drew together. “Not really. In the army we compare weapons, scars, and horses. Life is somewhat simpler as a man.”
Margaret waved them goodbye as though they really were attending a dance, and not a secret rendezvous with a treacherous French vampyre. Outside waited a hackney to take them to the rooms for the night’s entertainment. Not that Aster could think of it that way—as entertainment. They were lying in wait for a traitor who would most likely try to kill Quinn. How could the man keep on smiling? There was one bright point to the night: She might spend at least one dance in Hamish’s arms.
Her skin felt sweaty inside her long gloves by the time they arrived and Quinn helped her out of the carriage. People swirled around them, laughing and chatting as they flowed into the assembly rooms.
He squeezed her hand and leaned close. “Everything will be fine. You have four Highland Wolves to protect you, and I assure you I am an exceedingly overprotective brother. Since Hamish has not yet formally proposed, I intend to corner him later and ask some pointed questions about his intentions. Are you sure you wa
nt to settle for a mere captain? Perhaps we could find you a bigger catch.”
Aster laughed and tapped his arm with her fan. “Don’t you dare. My heart belongs to Hamish and I am quite looking forward to being pack mother and bringing order to your lives.”
She drew a deep breath as they stepped into the brightly lit assembly rooms. Hundreds of candles blazed in the overhead chandeliers. Musicians played at the end of the room on a raised dais, and the room was bursting with life and vitality.
Quinn had to wear formal attire in his role as the secretary in fear of his life. Tonight the others wore their new regimentals. Aster spotted Alick first, the tall Highlander like a landmark in the sea of people. They were not the only soldiers present, but there was something distinctive about the Scotsmen amongst their English counterparts. The new Highland Wolves uniform was quite different to anything else in the room. Their trousers were pale grey with a trim of tweed running down the outer seam. Their short green jackets had deep green cuffs and tweed banding. Hamish’s had an extra row around the cuff to denote his rank. Two rows of gleaming wolf-head buttons kept one side of the jacket open on the diagonal. Aster suspected the cavalry sabres slung on their hips were for show only, given the men could shed their uniforms and shift into enormous wolves.
“Oh, my,” Aster whispered as they walked across the floor. To her eye, the Wolves were far more handsome than the other soldiers present. Her gaze found Hamish, standing tall in his uniform, and she could not look at anyone else.
“A wolf in uniform is to women what honey is to bees. Or is that bears? No, what would attract wolves?” Quinn mused.
Aster managed to pull her gaze away. It wouldn’t do to give away the plan by having people realise they knew one another. Although, as she looked around, it seemed many women were casting cow eyes at the men in their new regimentals. Other men approached and enquired about their regiment.
“They are all quite handsome, as are you,” she managed to murmur. There was something about Hamish that stole her expansive vocabulary and left her with a single syllable: oh. “What happens now?”
Quinn cast around the room and then his warm brown gaze returned to her. “We wait and watch. Shall I fetch you a glass of punch?”
It was like being caught in a play or a novel, as they waited for other characters to arrive and enact their scene. If only she could skip forward a few pages, it would all be over. Aster stood in a quiet corner as Quinn went for punch, when a quite extraordinary thing occurred: Hamish approached her.
He executed a small bow and then held out his hand in invitation. “Will you dance with me, my star, please?”
“We are not supposed to know one another,” she whispered.
“Soldiers are known to be bold and I have singled out the only woman who captures my gaze.” He held out his arm.
She shouldn’t, but at the same time couldn’t refuse. She ached for his touch. There was something deep in his gaze that pulled at her, the slightly expectant look of a man who is about to lay his heart on a silver platter. She placed her hand on his arm.
“I would love to, Captain.” As they moved to the dance floor, she saw Quinn smile from the drinks table.
A dance didn’t seem like the ideal place to be alone with someone, and yet it could be. Hamish held her gaze throughout every step and movement. When she looked at him, the other dancers faded to the background. There was only the two of them and no one else. They were alone as the musicians took up their instruments. Hamish was her focus, her centre, her everything.
The last strains of music played, and she dropped a curtsey to her partner. He took her hand and led her back. “I have missed you, Aster. I shall count the hours until we can be alone.”
Happiness suffused her limbs, despite the terrible purpose to their evening. Even if parliament declared the Wolves to be mere dogs and cast them aside from polite society, she would always have tonight and the magical dance with Hamish.
“I have missed you too,” she murmured.
He raised her hand and kissed her gloved knuckles. “We will be together, Aster, whatever happens.”
Ewan approached and bowed to Aster. “So sorry, Aster. But I must steal Hamish away for a few moments.”
Hamish swore under his breath, so quietly that none but he and Aster heard. While her heart leapt that he would rather remain with her, it would draw attention if he did so. Single men were expected to dance with a range of partners. Two dances with the same woman was practically scandalous.
“You are mine, Aster, do not forget that.” He bowed and disappeared back amongst the crowd.
You are mine. She wrapped those words around her heart. Events would resolve themselves in their favour. They simply had to, for she had too much to live for now. Aster hummed along with the music and tapped her foot as a group of women moved closer. She recognised one—the woman who had ridden along Rotten Row and dismissed her as nothing important.
A glint of recognition flashed through Lady Merton’s brown eyes and then her gaze moved on, dismissing Aster once again. The group paused next to her position, but not a one acknowledged her existence with even the barest amount of civility.
The woman smiled, a cold thing that did not reach her eyes, and then she gestured to a broad receding back. “Oh look. There is Lord Logan in the dashing dark green uniform. He has been given command of a new regiment and will inherit an earldom. Hamish has always been quite besotted with me and proposed more than three years ago. I intend to give him my answer this evening, since the poor fellow has waited long enough. I cannot have him making a desperate move and falling for some working-class chit with delusions above her station.”
She flicked her fan, and her friends twittered. Laughter and chatter rolled over Aster as they commented on how lucky Hamish would be to have the young lady. She turned and caught Aster’s gaze, and the look she threw stabbed Aster like a blade.
Aster thought her stays were over-tight. She could only draw a shallow breath into her chest. Hamish had said she was his and she knew his regard was not lightly given. Imagine if the young lady knew Hamish was a wolf and could lose everything if the House voted against the Unnaturals. Would she still lay claim to a penniless Hamish? Aster would. A pang of jealousy reared up in her chest and Aster wanted to throw the knowledge out, just to watch the other woman try and recant her words. But that was not her secret to give, only Hamish’s.
In many ways, Aster wished parliament would consider Unnaturals as lesser beings. If Hamish retained his full rights he would one day be earl. His position would see him at many such functions and Aster would have innumerable women who would peer down their aristocratic noses at her and find her lacking. A simple life in a modest cottage, full of noisy young men learning to be wolves, seemed far preferable.
She let out a sigh. Hamish would be better with a gently-bred mate, one who moved through these rooms with ease, not a mousy cryptographer who would rather have her nose in a book. The room seemed overwarm and the noise overwhelming. She rushed for the open doors to one side, needing to seek the escape of the darkened balcony and the cool night air. A single tear rolled down her cheek. Would it be better for Hamish’s future to let him go?
27
Hamish
* * *
Hamish tore himself away from Aster with a final look. The deep green silk was an unusual hue amongst the pastel-clad women, but it suited her. As soon as he saw it in the shop window, he’d imagined it on her form, and he was glad he had indulged his whim and purchased the dress. The colour emphasised her pale skin and dark hair, and her eyes. That violet gaze found his, and his chest tightened. If anything happened to her tonight, he would go on a rampage worse than Alick in the grip of his berserker fever. House-trained wolves be dammed, he would tear out the fiend’s throat first and then his liver in the middle of the ballroom if one hair on her head was touched. His hands itched to claim her, but he had a role to play first. Blast it.
“She’s much prettier wi
thout those horrid glasses,” Ewan said as they moved through the crowd.
“Yes. Yes she is.” And she was stunning naked and in the throes of passion, but he thought he would keep that comment to himself. There was only so much you shared with your brothers-in-arms.
Ewan drew Hamish aside to a quiet corner, where Forge waited. The nondescript agent wore formal attire and blended in with innumerable other men wearing the exact same outfit, as though they had all been dressed by the same mother in matching clothes. It protected his anonymity, but robbed him of any personality. You would never guess he was a dandified French vampyre. Perhaps rumours of their near legendary fashion sense were over-inflated. Or mayhap it didn’t work on Englishmen?
“Is he here?” Forge asked, his gaze sweeping the room.
“Yes,” Hamish said. He nodded to where Quinn stood talking to an older matron. “That is him there, by the punch bowl.” As he turned, he surveyed the rest of the room to find Aster standing alone in a corner. A group of noble women stood nearby, but it appeared they excluded her from any conversation. It rankled, to see her treated like that.
Forge made a noise in the back of his throat and stared at his target. “He matches the description I was given.”
“What description?” Hamish’s attention flew from Aster back to Forge. He could not afford to falter or make a mistake now.
The traitor’s lips pulled into a semblance of a smile. “I made discreet enquiries about our mysterious secretary. I happened upon a clerk who remembered Albert Simmons collecting buttons quite recently.”
Talk of buttons made him ponder if Aster still wore his around her neck. He would have to look more closely next time he had her in his arms. “Ah. The Wolves had new uniforms made and Sir John showed me samples when I visited the office.” Fate moulded events to their benefit. Quinn had stepped into the role that day and run Aster’s errands, a tiny detail that paid a dividend now and kept her from Forge’s notice.
Secrets to Reveal Page 26
