Bridgeton spoke up as he kissed her hand. “Welcome to our home.” Then he winked. Of course he would recognize her. If not her, Spencer.
Spencer leaned in, spoke to Amelia and she smiled.
Next she was escorted into the ballroom on the arm of her husband with Aunt Violet trailing behind them and her steps faltered. The huge room was dimly lit, and she’d never seen such open flirtatious behavior before.
“Easy, my dear. Wouldn’t want you tripping and falling on the floor. Not the entrance you were hoping for I’m certain.”
“No. I’m just shocked. I feel as though we are attending a Cyprian’s ball. Not that I’ve ever been to one, but I always imagined it would be like this. Dark and intimate with people standing close. Very close.”
He chuckled. “Yes. That is the allure of masquerade balls. People can pretend to be who they are not. Or be the person they hide inside, behind the formal, starchy clothing and good manners. It is the reason most debutantes are not allowed to attend. If they were, can you imagine how many would be ruined because they were lured into the gardens by some wicked man?”
“I never thought of it that way. But you are right. This is no place for someone so young and innocent.” She glanced behind her. “Aunt Violet disappeared. Do you think she will be safe on her own?”
“She will be fine. We are not actually at a Cyprian’s ball. We are at William and Amelia’s home. Nothing will happen to her here.”
“I suppose you are right. She is a grown woman, married three times already.”
“Exactly, my dear.” He began walking. “I believe I see Wentworth and the rest of the Seabrook family over by the refreshment table. Shall we say hello?”
As Spencer led her across the room, she tried to figure out how he recognized the Seabrook family. There were so many people crowded in the room and all the colorful costumes and masks had her head spinning and her eyes straining to make out who people were. Not that she knew all that many people in London these days, since it had been many years since she attended a Season.
During her first Season, she’d attended balls, soirees, musicals the opera and the theater. Never a masquerade. Even though she attended many functions she could only remember Spencer, dancing with him and looking forward to his afternoon tea visits.
But this, this was something she never imagined attending and her insides hummed with excitement.
“Spencer, Miranda,” Myles said as they approached.
“How on earth did you recognized us?” Spencer said.
“Easy. The same way you knew who we were.”
After greetings were made the men sort off drifted off leaving the ladies to talk.
“Amelia dressed as a gypsy once during a masquerade at the Northborough Estate,” Bella said. “Although I don’t believe she looked as convincing as you do Miranda.”
“Thank you. You and Myles look fabulous as Anthony and Cleopatra. Did Wentworth and Emma come?”
“No,” Bella replied. “Emma was a little tired. Her time is coming close.”
“How are you and Amelia feeling? One can hardly tell you are both increasing?”
“I can’t speak for her, but I feel wonderful. No longer experiencing morning sickness. Myles is grateful for that. I never knew men had such queasy stomachs.”
“I imagine he was worried about you.”
“Yes, he was. Still is,” Bella commented. “Tell me, how is married life to our dear Spencer?
Thankfully her rouge and mask hid her flushed cheeks. She knew Bella enough to know she hinted at their intimacy. Would she be shocked to know they only recently consummated their marriage? Probably. But not if she had knowledge of what occurred with Baker. Which made her wonder who knew from the Seabrook family and who didn’t? Amelia and Bridgeton knew, but she didn’t think anyone else did.
She didn’t think even Amelia and Bridgeton knew what happened that morning when Baker arrived at their home. Unless at some point Spencer sent word to his cousin.
As she thought about her husband, he suddenly appeared at her side. “A waltz is beginning.” He bowed and grinned. “May I have this dance, my fair gypsy lady?”
She curtsied and laughed. “Yes, my gypsy husband, you may.”
Miranda hadn’t danced in a very longtime and was a little apprehensive until Spencer took her into his arms, chasing her nerves away.
“I will never forget the first time we danced,” he whispered in her ear.
“Nor I.”
“Will you promise me you will never dance a waltz with another gentleman as long as I live?”
“I promise.” Then he twirled her around the dance floor, her heart sang and her feet rarely reached the ground. Before she knew it, he danced her right out a set of French doors onto the veranda and escorted her into the dimly lit gardens.
They could still hear the orchestra. Spencer held her close and they swayed together, neither speaking. They didn’t need to. Their bodies spoke for them. Never in all her life, had she imagined love could be so all encompassing. Nor, that she would ever see Spencer again, never mind marry him. The next time she saw her aunt she would thank her again for forcing her to come to London. She wished it had been under better circumstances though. Wishing they had come before her aunt’s no-good husband stole everything from her.
If they had not come, she would still be living in the country, wandering around like a lost soul. Which was what she’d been doing for twelve years. Thankfully, not any longer.
“I can’t believe we are married,” she sighed as Spencer nibbled at her neck.
“Believe it.” He nipped her earlobe with his teeth and she moaned. “We were meant to be together.”
His lips sought hers and her body melted against him. Her lips parted, welcoming him, and all the sounds disappeared around her except for the pounding of her heart. He cradled her face with his hands and deepened the kiss. Then he broke apart, tore off both their masks and grabbed for her again.
“Better. Much better,” he murmured as his lips traveled down her neck. His fingers tugged at the elastic neckline of her blouse, exposing her shoulder. His teeth skimmed across her newly exposed flesh and her knees almost buckled.
“Spencer,” she cried as he tugged the blouse lower, exposing one breast to the cool night air.
“God. I can’t get enough of you. Now that you’re mine, I will never let you go. Never let you out of my sight. I love you so much it hurts at times.”
Her head lolled back as his hot mouth sucked her nipple inside. “I don’t want you to ever let me go. I’m yours for now and always.”
One of his hands reached beneath her skirt and slowly, oh so slowly, slid up the inside of her leg until it found the opening in her pantaloons.
He exhaled loudly. “You’re so wet. I wish I could make love to you here.”
“As do I.” Were those her words? When did she become so bold? Must be her new husband corrupting her with his sexual prose.
“We can’t risk it, but I can...”
“Oh my God,” she moaned as he inserted one long finger inside her while his thumb circled around her nub. “More.”
She heard him chuckle against her chest. “Your wish is my command.”
His talented fingers had her crashing over the edge of reality. She tried to be quiet, tried not to cry out. Thankfully, he knew enough to stifle her cries with his mouth as her body convulsed over and over until she thought she might fall to the ground in a heap of liquid. “Thank you,” he murmured into her ear at the same time he dropped her skirt and righted her blouse.
“Should I not be thanking you?”
“No. Your pleasure is my pleasure. Hearing your moans of desire almost made me come in my breeches. Thank goodness I’m not eighteen, and I have some control over that appendage between my legs.”
“Really,” she teased as her hand drifted down and she cupped him. He squirmed away.
“Not that much control, my dear.” He held out his hand. “Come. I do b
elieve we need refreshments after that.”
***
When Spencer first stepped into Miranda’s room and saw her dressed in her gypsy costume he’d nearly dropped to the ground and wept. Never had he seen her look more enchanting, and he still couldn’t believe they were married.
She was his. And he was hers. When his eyes had fallen on her, his body hummed with desire and he really didn’t want to go out. All he wanted to do was strip off her enchanting and enticing clothing and bury himself deep inside her until neither of them could remember their names.
But he had an obligation to his cousin. If any other person was hosting tonight’s masquerade he would have begged off. However, family was important to him. Besides, he wanted to show off his lovely bride. And keep an eye on his two sisters who would also be in attendance. Mary had two Season’s already and Liz one, so Grandmother was allowing them to attend. Even though he fervently wished they were not.
He worried Liz might do something drastic to make Amesbury jealous and end up being on the front page of the scandal rags in the morning. Mary, well he didn’t worry so much about her. She was timid and shy. But still, some less than honorable gentleman could take advantage of her good nature before she even knew what was happing.
Great, now his stomach pained with nerves. Until he looked at his wife again and all thoughts vacated his mind but getting to the ball and hurrying home so he could make love to her.
Aunt Violet was another sight to behold and he wondered what man would fall into her trap this evening. Because, without a doubt, she was dressed to seduce. She did deserve some happiness in her life after what Baker did to her.
Did to her and Miranda. Don’t think about it tonight? He was gone and could never harm Miranda again. So he brushed it off and escorted two lovely ladies to the ball.
While he waltzed with his wife he quickly glanced around the room looking for his grandmother or his sisters. Perhaps they had changed their minds about attending. As long as they were not present, he could give all his attention to the woman in his arms. Half way through the waltz he had to escape. He had to get his hands on his wife. So he escorted her into the dark gardens and pleasured her. He could hardly believe she allowed him to lift her skirts and sink his fingers inside her warm heat.
Hearing her come apart, her hands digging into his arms, her heart pounding against his chest almost caused him to embarrass himself.
Just as he suggested they go inside for refreshments, they were rudely interrupted by a deep, masculine voice he didn’t recognize...at first. When he did, it was too late.
Chapter Fourteen
Spencer moaned as he cradled his pounding head in his hands wondering why he was sprawled out on the hard ground in the dark with music playing in the distance. The smell of dirt, leaves, and flowers clung to his nostrils as well as something metallic.
When he removed his hands from his head, it registered in his aching mind, they were coated with something, warm, wet, and sticky. Blood. Blood gushed from the back of his head. Why? It took several tries for him to get his feet beneath his trembling body and when he did, the world spun in circles causing him to crash down onto his knees and vomit.
What the bloody hell happened to me? Where is Miranda? No. No. No. This can’t be happening. I promised her I would keep her safe. Panic, fear, and anger forced the vertigo, nausea, and pain to take a holiday. This time when he stood, he focused everything he had on making it into William’s house and seeking help.
He’d meant to enter into a private part of the house, but with his confused mind he entered the ballroom. Which was a good thing since his knees buckled and he hit the ground as soon as he made eye contact with William. Before darkness swallowed him, he believed he uttered the words “Miranda was taken.” He could not be certain as pain exploded inside his head and he slid into a vortex of blackness.
***
“What do you suppose happened out in the gardens? And where is Miranda. Not to mention has anyone seen her aunt since she arrived?” William asked as he paced the confines of his study. It was like living his nightmare again when Amelia fell overboard on the Thames and Sir Phillip tried to drown her.
Sebastian, Myles, and Amesbury were present as they waited, none-too-patiently, for Smythe to arrive and hopefully shed light on the situation.
“I never saw the aunt and the last I saw Miranda she was waltzing with Spencer,” Sebastian said in all seriousness as he downed a glass of brandy. “But in all truthfulness, Teagan and I were otherwise occupied.”
“I didn’t see the aunt either,” replied Amesbury.
“Nor I,” answered Myles.
“Does anyone know if Miranda or her aunt have enemies? Although, since they haven’t been in town in many years, I don’t see how?” This came from Myles who William, no doubt knew, was reliving his own nightmares when his cousin and his cousin’s wife murdered his sister and tried to kill Bella and him by poison.
Due to the circumstances, William didn’t believe Spencer would be upset if he confided what he knew to his friends. Hell, Smythe would be as soon as he arrived anyway. So he retold the story as Spencer had told him and three sets of eyes, full of concern and anguish met his.
“I know. It is a lot to accept. As far as I know, Smythe escorted Baker aboard a ship to New South Wales. Smythe is never remiss in his duties, but what other explanation do we have to their disappearance? Baker, somehow, got off the ship without Smythe knowing it. Damn.” He raked his fingers through his hair in total frustration. “Spencer needs to wake-up, and soon. We need to know what happened. He must know something.”
“Mr. Smythe,” the butler said as he opened the door and ushered the haggard looking Runner inside and bowed out closing the door after him.
William handed Smythe a drink. “I think you’re going to need this.”
“Please don’t tell me something has happened...again.” Once his words were complete he downed his drink and held up his hand for another. “I’ve had a bad day and night. If you don’t mind, I could use a refill.” This time he took an empty chair and sipped.
Not that William always held to proper decorum, but he was surprised Smythe sat without being invited to. The man might be a Runner, but he had impeccable manners. Better than some members of the ton.
Tonight, however, Smythe looked exhausted and sloppily dressed. His eyes were glassy and sunk in his head with dark circles beneath them. Not to mention, he looked pale. For someone who spent much time in the outdoors, that was shocking to say the least.
“I’m ready now. Tell me what happened,” Smythe said, followed by a sip of his drink with hands that trembled. Bad day and night, indeed.
“You’re not going to like what I have to say. As you can tell by all the carriages and guests still milling about, Amelia and I hosted a masquerade ball this evening.” William stood at a window, moved the curtain aside and stared into the very gardens where the crime took place. His insides quivered and he shook his head.
“Miranda and Spencer went out into the gardens. Sometime later, Spencer came back inside alone. He’d been hit on the head and knocked unconscious. I believe he muttered the words “Miranda was taken” before he passed out. He remains unconscious as we speak.”
Smythe ran a shaky hand through his disheveled hair. “Damn.”
“Miranda, as well as her aunt are missing,” William said. “At least we think the aunt is. No one has seen her.”
The look that crossed the Runner’s features had William feeling sorry for him. He obviously believed this was his fault. As best as William could tell Smythe’s age was somewhere around thirty. Tonight he looked decades older.
“I put the bastard on the ship. I even had men watching it until it set sail. The only thing I can come up with is once it left the dock he jumped ship. Crazy foolish thing to do. And so terribly bad for Lady Miranda and her aunt. How long ago did this all happen?”
“Best any of us can tell is about an hour from the time I sent for yo
u.”
“Do know where in the gardens it happened?”
“Hell, no,” William growled. “When I get my hands on that bastard...”
“Easy. We all know that is not a good idea. Do you mind getting me a lantern and taking me into the gardens. I’m certain in the light of day, I could see better, but I don’t want to wait.”
By the time the men left the study, all the guests had departed and William sent Sebastian, Myles, and Amesbury to fill the women in on the situation. And to make sure someone came for him when Spencer woke up.
Smythe and William, each holding brightly lit, oil lanterns entered the gardens. “He would have taken her to a secluded spot. Down one of the narrower paths, away from the lights glowing from the ballroom,” William stated as he headed away from the veranda. “If I were looking for a little privacy I would head this way.”
Smythe followed close behind as each swung his lantern side to side hoping to see something, anything that would clue them in to Miranda’s disappearance.
“Here,” Smythe said as he moved to the right. “Look at the crushed plants. Spencer had to have landed here.” He hunkered down and ran his hand over the bent foliage and brought his fingers close to the lantern. “Blood. Which way to the street?”
“This way.” William and Smythe followed a path they knew for sure Baker took Miranda through. The ground was disturbed and small flowers trampled. It led into the back of the property were the mews were.
They entered the mews and woke up the stable boy sleeping in a corner on a pallet.
“Did you see any strangers around here this evening?” William demanded.
The boy sat up, rubbed his eyes and then quickly stood. “Milord, there were several, but not unusual with the ball going on.”
“Did you see a lady, being led away by a man against her will?”
The lad shook his head. “Didn’t see no lady.”
Spencer meets his Lady Love Page 14
