The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection

by Dorothy McFalls

  “Oh, pooh! Papa would never permit this. Elly, you aren’t going to allow her to hide up here, are you?”

  Elsbeth emerged from the dressing room where Molly, her lady’s maid, had been fussing over her. She’d listened to her two cousins with only half an ear as she’d gazed at herself in the mirror. The gown, made from the sheerest pale purple muslin she’d ever seen, was cut very low. Nearly indecently so. Surely the modiste had made a mistake.

  “Oh, Elly,” Olivia exclaimed, “you look ever so lovely. That gown is so much more fashionable than the ones you ordered for the season. It fits you much better too.”

  “I feel like I am in danger of falling out of it,” Elsbeth muttered.

  “You do look lovely,” Lauretta said rather sedately.

  “Why, thank you.” She frowned at the long face Lauretta wore. “But you, my dear cousin, will not look lovely coming to the ball in that gown. You need to make a grand appearance, dazzling everyone present. You need to show Sir Donald—and everyone else—his actions have not affected you in the least.”

  Lauretta gave Elsbeth a desperate look.

  “It needn’t be true,” she said as she selected a white gown for her cousin to wear. “It simply needs to be believed.” She took Lauretta’s hands in her own. “Trust me, this is for the best.”

  With Molly and Olivia’s help, it didn’t take long for Elsbeth to tuck Lauretta into her gown, fix up her hair, and lure her to the ball.

  The guests, dressed in their most fashionable attire, lined the sides of the ballroom, chatting animatedly. Edgeware had reportedly invited gentry from as far away as a quarter day’s ride to Purbeck. Elsbeth guessed further by the number who had already arrived.

  Shiny silk ribbons dyed to represent Edgeware’s family colors, dark green and rich lavender, floated across the ceiling and spiraled toward the grand chandelier in the center of the room. Matching drapes billowed in the breeze in front of the half-dozen arching double doors that had been opened to keep the room from becoming overheated. Palms potted in ceramic urns overflowing with exotic orchids marked the edges of the dance floor. Musicians dressed all in white stood at the ready on the far end of the room.

  “For a man who has never hosted a ball, the Marquess certainly knows how to create a fairytale scene,” Olivia said.

  Elsbeth nodded in agreement. The decorations made her feel slightly unhinged, almost as if she’d stumbled into one of Dionysus’s colorful paintings. “I have never seen such a wondrous spectacle. And look, there’s a miniature fountain at the edge of the dance floor.”

  Lauretta followed along as quiet as a stone beside them, her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. The poor child was destined to have a miserable evening if circumstances didn’t quickly turn.

  “Oh,” Olivia sighed, as her cheeks grew flushed. “There is Lord Edgeware dressed all in black. And I believe he is looking this way. He looks so formidable, don’t you agree, Elly?”

  “I haven’t taken the time to notice,” Elsbeth lied. She had, in fact, sought him out the moment they’d stepped into the ballroom. And she thought the dark lord looked disturbingly dashing tonight.

  What the devil was wrong with her? She gave herself a stern mental shake. In no way should she allow her feelings to grow for him. Even if his easy manner seemed to draw her like a moth to a flame, she shouldn’t risk losing herself to his seductive charm. He was a man, naught but a man.

  “Ladies.” Edgeware had wasted no time crossing the room to personally greet them. He gave a grand bow and, blast him, looked as elegant as a prince. “Please allow me to reserve a dance with each of you beauties in turn.”

  He gave Lauretta a second look, and frowned. “What’s this?” he said, gently lifting the unhappy girl’s chin. “I cannot allow such a gloomy face at my ball.”

  “I simply can’t muster a happier feeling, my lord. Perhaps I should—”

  “Do not speak nonsense, my beautiful lady. You’ve only stepped foot in the ballroom. How can you possibly know how the night will turn out?” He was scolding her, of that Elsbeth was certain. But his tone was so light, so playful that even the sensitive Lauretta’s grim expression appeared to lighten.

  “But-but, my lord,” she sputtered. “You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly know—”

  “That Sir Donald has broken your heart? Yes, I do believe your father had mentioned something of that matter to me when we were discussing this house party.” He caressed the girl’s chin as an uncle would, before releasing it. “Just say the word, my lady, and I will ban Sir Donald from ever stepping foot in my house again.”

  Lauretta gave a start. More than a little distressed she waved her satiny-gloved hands in the air. “No, my lord, I beg that you don’t punish him.” She swallowed hard. “I-I couldn’t…I mean, he-um-he-he—”

  “Ah. I understand only too well,” Edgeware said. “Please grant me the pleasure of this first set, then.” His smile brightened again as he extended his hand to her with a grand gesture. “I promise Sir Donald will rethink his earlier foolishness after seeing his competition tonight.”

  Elsbeth watched with a pang in her heart as her dark lord led Lauretta away. It was foolish, really, that she should feel jealous of her cousin. She didn’t want Edgeware’s attentions, truly she didn’t. Hang it all, she didn’t want him smiling at her like he’d smiled at Lauretta. And she really didn’t want him to remind her of that morning’s passionate kiss…or whisper any more shocking promises of seduction.

  “Wouldn’t it be grand if Lauretta went home to father engaged to Lord Edgeware?” Olivia said dreamily.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Edgeware wouldn’t propose without talking to your father first,” Elsbeth snapped.

  Olivia giggled. “Oh Elly! I didn’t realize that you—”

  “Now you are being ridiculous, Olivia. Come now.” She latched her arm with her cousin’s. “Let’s step away from the entrance.”

  “Am I being silly? The Marquess gallantly presented you a flower this afternoon and placed it in your hair as well!”

  “Please, Olivia,” Elsbeth said, not quite able to fight off the tender memories.

  “I do believe you are blushing, Elly. Oh la, there is nothing to be embarrassed about. He is an eligible bachelor, is he not? Ah, Mr. Waver, how do you do?”

  George Waver inclined his head and smiled. “Good evening ladies. Please allow me to present to you Reverend Sirius Waver.” The handsome young man with features strikingly similar to Mr. Waver’s tugged nervously on his waistcoat. “Siruis is my younger brother as well as the local vicar,” Mr. Waver added with considerable fondness, which only seemed to make the vicar look more uncomfortable.

  Mr. Waver hurried on, presenting Elsbeth and Olivia and detailing their family connections, Elsbeth puzzled over the young vicar’s agitation until she noticed how pink his cheeks had become when George Waver had spoken Olivia’s name. Once the introductions were completed, Mr. Waver turned and gave his brother a nod.

  “L-lady Olivia.” Reverend Waver cleared his throat a couple of times. “Lady Olivia, I would be honored to lead you in the first set. That is, if you haven’t already accepted an invitation from another gentleman. Which in that case, I’d hardly expect you to agree to dance with me.”

  Olivia giggled, her pink cheeks brightening even before she latched on to his arm.

  “And would you, Lady Mercer,” Mr. Waver asked, “be available to dance the first set with me?”

  “No, I’m afraid she would not,” Charlie said, nudging Mr. Waver out of the way. “The first set is beginning and Lady Mercer has promised it to me,” he said, using her proper title for the first time since they’d been reacquainted. But despite that courtesy, he took possession of her arm as if he owned it.

  “Perhaps later, then?” Mr. Waver said with a frown.

  “Yes, later would be nice,” Elsbeth said. She allowed Charlie to tow her along with him, even though the thought of being with him made her whole body tremble with
fear. This was no time for cowardice. If Charlie was indeed Dionysus, she needed to gather evidence in order to expose him. Besides, she reminded herself, she had no reason to be frightened of Charlie. He wouldn’t dare harm her in the middle of a crowded ballroom.

  The small orchestra began playing a minuet, the traditional opening set. The dancers lined up, waiting for their turn to whirl down the line with their partners. Lauretta, looking worlds livelier, was the first to dance in front of the other guests. She turned toward Edgeware for the lead-in. They did a right-hand turn, a left-hand turn, and then a two-hand turn before starting the sequence again until they had glided to the end of the line. Edgeware had given Lauretta a wonderful gift. By choosing her to partner him in the opening dance of the ball, every man present would now look at her in a new light.

  Charlie kept Elsbeth by his side as he lagged back in the line of guests. “I know who you are,” she said, in hopes of tricking him into a confession, “and what you’re up to.”

  “You do?” he said and raised a brow.

  “Of course I do.”

  He snarled at her confidence. “You’ve won my cousin as a champion and it makes you grow bold. He turned on me this afternoon because of you,” he whispered with a ragged breath in her ear.

  Elsbeth tried to pull away, but Charlie only clamped down on her arm. “No,” she said, feeling a tremor of alarm. “No, you have no power over me.”

  “I may not. But be warned.” Fire flashed in his eyes. “I won’t let you come between me and my cousin.”

  “And I won’t let you harm him!” she spat with a passion loud enough that several heads turned. But she didn’t regret a word, realizing suddenly she would fight to protect Edgeware from this bounder. She simply could not let Dionysus ruin anyone else’s life. Especially not Edgeware’s.

  Charlie’s face bloomed red. He glanced around, smiling benignly. “Very well,” he said though his lips were pulled tightly into a sharp grin. “Very well,” he said again and stalked off.

  As Elsbeth watched him retreat, her bravery wavered. She feared her little act of rebellion would not go unpunished.

  * * * *

  Severin prowled the ballroom, keeping a keen eye peeled for scheming young ladies that might be lurking behind a potted palm or a Doric column. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his heated brow. Edgeware’s welcoming ball was brimming with young, innocent, unmarried ladies all hoping to put the matrimonial hook into some poor, unsuspecting sot.

  What was a poor rogue to do? He’d danced with most of the young chits at least once. Several of the approving papas had approached him in conversation, prodding him for information about his state of affairs and intentions.

  “There you are, my lord,” a tender voice said just as a silken fan swatted his arm, sending Severin nearly leaping out of his skin.

  He turned around and stood chest-to-chest with Lady Dashborough’s more than ample bosom. She stepped closer, brushing up against him. “My word,” she said, a sly grin adding a new dimension to her pretty features, “you are jumpy tonight.”

  “Am I?” he asked, taking a step back. “I suppose I am.” Lady Dashborough’s youngest, Lady Constance, had been shamelessly pursuing him all evening. He prayed her mama wasn’t planning to plead a case for her. He simply wasn’t interested in naive young ladies…or marriage.

  “I’ve heard rumors that you are especially skilled at pleasing women, Lord Ames.” She placed her hand on his arm, letting her fingers stray to his bare wrist. “These young girls populating this ball must surely bore you.”

  Severin let out the breath he was holding. “I have a great admiration for experience and knowledge, as I am sure you understand.”

  “Yes,” she purred. “I, too, feel the same way.” She traced a gentle circle over the sensitive skin on the underside of his wrist. Her gaze strayed to her diamond bracelet as it brushed against his skin. “I also generously reward talent and skill.”

  That diamond bracelet could pay his living expenses for a month. Her offer was becoming very tempting indeed. “I see.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip as if tasting a succulent fruit. “A midnight rendezvous? A sharing of experiences?”

  “Yes, my lord. I would enjoy that.” She slipped a key into his hand. “Midnight, then.”

  He discreetly pocketed her key. “Would you care to dance?” he asked, offering her his arm.

  She gave him a calculating glare. “I think not,” she said, and then turned and sashayed away.

  Severin leaned against one of the Doric columns he’d been hiding behind and smiled as he watched her dress sway around her full hips as she walked. A relationship with the wealthy Lady Dashborough could prove most lucrative.

  “Oh Sir Donald, you are so very funny.” He heard Lady Constance’s high-pitched voice and cringed. The young woman’s sweet laugh tinkled in the air. He peeked around the column and watched as Sir Donald maneuvered Constance toward the terrace. The young man took her hand and raised it to his lips, turning her palm up. He nudged her glove and kissed her bare skin. “You, my love, must be the most beautiful woman in all of England. The other ladies present tonight all look like wilted flowers compared to you.”

  A woman gave a strangled cry from the opposite side of the column. She then charged into Severin, nearly knocking him over.

  “Do pardon me,” he called irritably after her as she raced across the ballroom and up the staircase.

  Who in blazes was that gel? Lady Lauretta?

  Severin remembered then—he’d seen Lady Lauretta and Sir Donald together at Dionysus’s now infamous art exhibition. What had that silly Lady Olivia said to him about the pair?

  Oh dear…the Baneshire family had been expecting an engagement announcement before the end of the Season. Who could tell what mischief a broken-hearted girl could find for herself when in such a state? Concerned, he followed Lady Lauretta through the darkened hallways of the maze-like Purbeck Manor. Her virginal white dress appeared to glow in the gloom. She looked more like an ethereal specter than a woman in solid form. Her light whimpers and stifled sobs made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

  He picked up his pace and turned a corner only to confront an empty hallway. Not easily discouraged, he systematically opened doors in the hall, peeking into the dark rooms.

  A clock somewhere within the house began chiming. Severin slowed his step as he counted the hour.

  It was midnight and Lady Dashborough, wearing a very expensive diamond bracelet, was in her chamber waiting for him. He should go to her and leave Lady Lauretta to her grief. But as he opened one last door he heard a muffled sob. With a sigh, he pulled out his handkerchief and smoothed it in his hand. Lady Lauretta was in desperate need of a few kind words and gentle reassurance. And, it appeared, he was the only one around to give that to her.

  “Please, my lady, do not cry over that bounder,” he said softly. “No man is worth those lovely tears.” He crossed the threshold into the narrow portrait gallery and closed the door behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elsbeth wrung her hands until they stung. Nothing was amiss, she assured herself. Just because Lauretta was absent from the ballroom and Charlie, also unaccounted for, had stalked away from her earlier in a thundering rage shouldn’t mean that she needed to disintegrate into a leaky watering pot while stranded in the middle of the dance floor.

  But what if Charlie had lured Lauretta away? What if—?

  She shook her head. Fretting never solved a crisis, real or imagined. What she needed was action. And help.

  She quickly found Olivia sequestered in a corner with the illustrious Beau Brummell, discussing—of all things—the troubles of importing fashionable fabrics from France because of that troublesome war.

  “Olivia,” she said as she pried her cousin from the sofa’s plush cushion, “go straight up to our apartment and see if Lauretta has hied herself off to bed.”

  “But-but I’m—” Olivia twisted out of El
sbeth’s grasp so she could turn her gentle, albeit shocked, expression back toward Brummell.

  “Heed me, Olivia, and do as you are told.”

  Olivia paled a degree. “Is something wrong?”

  “Wrong?” Elsbeth squeaked. “Of course not. Why would you ask such a question?” No matter what, she couldn’t let the other guests suspect that Lauretta might be alone with a gentleman; she couldn’t let another scandal darken the Baneshire door.

  Olivia turned and stared at Elsbeth, her eyes grew wide. “Oh dear,” she said and then uttered a polite excuse to Beau Brummell before rushing from the ballroom.

  Elsbeth wondered what her cousin had read in her frozen expression. No, she shook her head and forced a brittle smile. She could not lose herself to paralyzing fear, not now. Things were different when it was just her, and she could collapse like a simpering rag doll after her husband flew into one of his heartless rages. But now Lauretta and Olivia both depended on her, and Lord Baneshire, foolish man, had entrusted her with his children’s safety.

  Charlie. And Dionysus. Or were they two names for the same man? Damn her husband, damn his friends. They seemed to always be at the root of her troubles. Even now when, by all rights, she should be free from them.

  Until death, the marriage vow had proclaimed, not beyond.

  “Pardon me.” She reached out and latched onto the arm of a rather flustered Lady Dashborough as the lady rushed by. “Have you seen Charlie…um, I mean Mr. Charles Purbeck, the younger Purbeck, I mean.”

  “Men!” Lady Dashborough exclaimed, as she shook off Elsbeth’s hold. “This blasted ball has misplaced more men than I care to acknowledge. If you happen upon Lord Ames, you can tell him that he needn’t come looking for me. Good evening.”

  “What was that all about?” a deep voice whispered in Elsbeth’s ear, sending her senses reeling into a dizzying spin. She dug her fingers into her palms and walked away from the spicy scent she now associated with Lord Edgeware. He was one complication more than she could handle at the moment.

  Two iron-willed hands curled around her arms and twirled her around until she was forced to stare into his shimmering black eyes. Fear tickled the back of her throat.