The Last Waltz: Hearts are at stake in the game of love... (Dorothy Mack Regency Romances)

by Dorothy Mack

  It was a new experience in Adrienne’s life. Never before had she possessed a female friend of her own generation. Hers had been a gypsy existence, traipsing along in the train of a man with a wanderlust. The family had clung together out of love and necessity and had supplied all the companionship she had ever known. She had never minded not having a settled home and a stable circle of friends — after all, one can’t miss what one has never had, but as she and Miss Beckworth walked back from the Forresters’ lodgings, she was in a pensive mood.

  “I like Sarah Forrester very much, Becky. The Staveley girls are perfectly pleasant and likable too, but they are essentially hen-witted, though I don’t mean that in a critical sense. I enjoy their company, but I feel that Sarah is someone from whom it will be a wrench to part when we leave Brussels. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’ve never had a real friend before, except you, of course.”

  Miss Beckworth smiled at the earnest girl beside her, though her eyes were sober. “You have missed a lot, dearest, but there have been compensations, too. Most girls your age lead a very circumscribed life, sheltered but narrow. It is small wonder they haven’t as much to offer as you. You have seen a good deal of the world and the way others live. You will never be afraid to be helpful when needed. I’m glad you and Miss Forrester find yourselves en rapport. There is no reason why you shouldn’t correspond when we get to England. She will be returning there eventually. I am quite taken with her too. She has a fine understanding and a pleasant nature, and she is a very devoted daughter.”

  “Yes. I like the general too, although I have so far received a minimal share of his attention,” Adrienne replied, slanting a teasing glance at her companion, who smiled faintly but refused the bait. “I imagine he will be bereft when Sarah marries.”

  “Actually, General Forrester is quite concerned that Sarah should have a life of her own. He is aware that she has devoted years of her youth to him already, and that — and you will not repeat this, I know — she has refused at least two offers because she would not leave him. She convinced him in both instances that her affections had been untouched, but I believe now that his own grief has abated somewhat, he is feeling guilty and anxious over Sarah’s future.”

  Adrienne murmured something noncommittal. In truth, she had all she could do to keep from her displaying her surprise at the rapid development of a rapport between Becky and General Forrester that had him divulging his deepest family concerns at their second meeting. In comparison, her own and Sarah’s approach to friendship struck her as scarcely tentative.

  Over the next few days, Adrienne observed her oldest friend with eyes from which the veils of familiarity had been snatched. Becky had been as much a part of her life as her parents, and for as long, someone to be taken for granted. Now Adrienne was shaken out of her complacency. Her eyes, following her companion’s movements, and her ears, listening to the familiar voice, had an acuteness put there by the sight of General Forrester and Becky ostensibly engaged in conversation but, to Adrienne’s alerted fancy, actually enclosed in a world that contained only two. She was forced to admit there was nothing different about her friend’s behaviour to support this theory, nor did Becky make her the recipient of any of her thoughts, supposing they existed, about the general; in fact, she did not once mention his name. Far from supposing that this was an accurate indication of his importance, Adrienne was inclined to consider her friend’s reticence as evidence that he was indeed in her thoughts, and, furthermore, that these were too precious to share.

  As for evidence that would convince a jury, there was none. A note had been delivered to Becky one day which struck Adrienne as being written in a masculine hand, but her friend had not spoken of the matter. Adrienne’s speculations were based solely on intuition and the recollection of how right and complete the picture of Miss Beckworth and General Forrester sitting in close conversation had seemed. It had not impressed her as anything of moment at the time, but distance and reflection lent it increasing significance.

  Her first reaction to this prickling awareness had been negative, a denial based, she soon realized, on an instinctive fear of change in their lives. Immediately swamping this selfish shrinking had been a burgeoning hope that Becky might yet find a personal happiness, if not with the general, then with someone else whose affection would repay her in part for the long years of selfless devotion to children not her own. On the heels of this hope came the iron conviction that Becky would deny herself her chance of happiness for the sake of Adrienne and her brothers unless she believed that their future was assured.

  And there was the rub, for the optimistic Adrienne, who had never faced, let alone feared, the future, was suddenly tremblingly conscious of the precariousness of their situation. They had, literally, almost no money behind them and no close family ties. To be sure, Lady Creighton had extended a generous hand to enable them to return to England, but they could not live off her charity. It was strange, she mused, but before Dominic had come to their rescue she had looked no further than getting the family to England, as if once there their problems would miraculously be solved. She shook her head in wonder at the naivete — no, the abysmal ignorance — that could have supported such a rationalization.

  Looking back, it struck her that she must have been existing in something bordering on a comatose state before Dominic had drawn them into his orbit. For the most part, the awakening had been enjoyable beyond her imaginings and not just in the ease and comfort of improved circumstances and widened social contacts. Perhaps the greatest benefit was in becoming closely involved with Dominic himself. After years of taking care of her much younger brothers, she was finding it a delightful experience to acquire a surrogate elder brother, especially one as charming as Dominic, who considered it his province to look after her. She had been amazed these last few days to discover how much she missed her cousin’s cheerful presence in the house after such a short acquaintance. It would not do, however, to become dependent on the kindness of her cousin, any more than on the generosity of his mother. Au fond, the Castles had no right to depend on anyone save themselves, and she must keep this circumstance squarely in view at all times.

  For the next two nights, Adrienne’s sleep was interrupted by confused dreams and sudden awakenings. She would come instantly awake, driven by the need to take some action. On one occasion, her legs were already over the side of the bed before she recollected where she was and that there was no positive action that could alleviate the basic situation. She fell back onto the pillows, and half-formed plans began squirrelling around in her mind once again. The boys would have to be self-supporting, of course. They must have professions, but how to set them on the path of attaining the capability of entering a profession completely defeated her intelligence at present.

  Her own future she dismissed with little thought. She assumed she could always find a place as a governess in some genteel family, forgetting, in her absorption with her brothers’ probable careers, her own lamentable lack of any qualifications considered necessary to instruct the young.

  CHAPTER 11

  “No, no, Adrienne, not like that! I keep telling you, don’t chop at it! Shave lightly around the centre. You want to get the feeling of roundness in the duck. Yours is going to look emaciated if you continue hacking at it like that.”

  The man on the stairs paused as the impatient young voice reached him from the small sitting room. A feminine murmur in reply was too indistinct to decipher, but the tired lines vanished from his face as he smiled and changed his course.

  Adrienne glanced up as the sitting-room door opened. “Dominic!” she cried, jumping up and dropping her tools in her haste. “Have you just returned from Ghent? Welcome home!”

  The man striding into the room could not mistake the warmth of the greeting in his cousin’s voice and eyes. He seized her hands and squeezed them smilingly. “After such a welcome, I’m glad I did not bother to change first. All three dimples present and accounted for, I see
.” The earl turned to the other occupant of the room and smiled at the boy watching them. “It was Jean-Paul’s voice that brought me in here in all my dirt. You sound and look a great deal stronger than when I left, lad. What is that you are working on?” he asked, releasing Adrienne’s hands.

  “I am carving a set of chess pieces for Luc,” replied the boy, holding up a bishop for his cousin’s inspection.

  This was done thoroughly and in total silence. The earl turned the almost completed piece around in his hands, examining it from all sides; then he said with gratifying sincerity, “This is a fine piece of work, lad. You’ve the knack of carving, all right.”

  Jean-Paul visibly swelled with pride at this encomium, and Adrienne rewarded her cousin with her sunny smile.

  “Is this your work, cousin?” Dominic inquired, bending down to retrieve the fallen object at her feet. This too he turned over in his hands and subjected to a scrutiny, while Adrienne, by dint of stern discipline, remained expressionless, awaiting the verdict.

  “I feel you have not progressed to quite the same point as Jean-Paul,” the earl began tactfully, before he was interrupted as his cousins went into whoops of laughter.

  “One more non-accomplishment to add to my formidable list,” Adrienne said when she had mastered her giggles. “Will you be home for dinner, cousin?”

  “Well, no. I haven’t seen Pamela yet, so I thought I would change and take her somewhere for dinner.”

  “Oh, of course, I didn’t think.” Adrienne looked a trifle embarrassed. Seeing that he was still turning her unfinished carving absently in his hands, she reached out and relieved him of it. “I hope you have a pleasant evening,” she finished politely.

  “Yes, well, thank you.” Dominic seemed to hesitate briefly before heading to the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast.” He shook off the slight sense of constraint that had arisen inexplicably and went upstairs whistling to bathe away the dirt from his long ride.

  An hour later, freshly groomed and relaxed, Lord Creighton headed for the Place St. Catherine, where Sir Ralph’s rented lodgings were situated. His first disappointment came when the servant reported that his employers were out for the evening but disclaimed any knowledge of their destinations. Unable to recall any specific plans for this evening, Dominic could do nothing except return home and consult his calendar — as anyone but an eager fool would have done before leaving the house, he berated himself.

  His mood was lightened by finding Major Peters almost on his doorstep. It required little effort to persuade his friend to stay and dine en famille. Fortunately, the earl was kept in ignorance of his chef’s reaction when Moulton informed that individual that there would be two more for dinner, to be served almost immediately.

  Adrienne was taken aback when she walked into the drawing room and discovered Major Peters comfortably ensconced in a wing chair near the fireplace, sipping sherry with every evidence of enjoyment. Her initial surprise mastered, a little rush of pleasure warmed her smile, and she was thankful she had obeyed an impulse to wear her new buttercup-yellow muslin to lift her spirits. Marie had confined her riotous curls behind a matching riband, allowing two to fall over her ears. Conscious of looking her best, Adrienne accepted the major’s offer to pour her a glass of sherry. Dominic, returning to his guest after checking his social engagements, found his friend and his female cousin engaged in cheerful conversation with the ease of old friends.

  “You two look very cosy. Where is Becky?” The earl had adopted his cousins’ name for Miss Beckworth in private, though he had referred to her as Cousin Anthea the other evening for the purpose of establishing her eligibility to act as his hostess.

  “She meant to look in on Jean Paul before coming down,” replied Adrienne. “I think I hear her and Luc now. We didn’t expect you for dinner, cousin.”

  “Lady Tremayne and Sir Ralph were dining out,” Dominic said, getting to his feet as the rest of the family came in together.

  They lingered over dinner, which became a congenial occasion with the numbers small enough for general conversation. Moulton was subsequently able to soothe the sensibilities of the temperamental chef by reporting that his culinary offerings, though nowhere near as elaborate as for the dinner party, were very well-received, and that their guest had praised his escallopes de volatile aux truffes. Miss Beckworth and Luc, who had not encountered the earl on his initial return that afternoon, were eager to hear about the Bourbon court. Dominic good-naturedly answered all their questions, and the time passed so agreeably that the party lingered until at last Miss Beckworth signalled to Adrienne, interrupting a lively discussion the girl was having with Major Peters, and the ladies left the table.

  When Luc strolled into the small drawing room a half-hour later, he passed on the men’s apologies to Miss Beckworth. It seemed they had evening engagements of long standing. Both ladies accepted the explanation with aplomb, but each privately regretted the loss of that stimulation that a masculine viewpoint brings to conversation.

  The earl and his old friend, having discovered they were bound for the small ball, wended their way in company, passing the time in idle discussion of their current assignments. At one point, Major Peters revealed his disappointment that Miss Castle would not be among the guests at the Hatherleighs’ do that evening. Dominic explained that so far his cousin had met no one save those persons who had been present at the betrothal party. Though disappointed, the major consoled himself with a tentative plan to invite his comrade’s cousin to go riding with him when next he could arrange free time in Brussels. He complained that being stationed in Ninove, where Lord Uxbridge had set up his headquarters, rather cramped his style, but received no sympathy from his friend, who had just come back from a four-day mission.

  Tonight’s ball was on a larger scale than Lord Creighton had anticipated. Mr. and Mrs. Hatherleigh were still receiving their guests in the narrow gallery outside the ballroom when the officers arrived, and it took more than a half-hour to make their way through the line. By this time Dominic was beginning to fear the world was conspiring to keep him away from his beloved, but Mrs. Hatherleigh put him out of his misery when she remarked with an arch smile that there was someone in the ballroom she knew he would be anxious to see.

  “Just so, ma’am,” he replied, giving her his best smile before moving on.

  He was detained just inside the ballroom by Lady Georgiana Lennox, the Duke of Richmond’s lively daughter, who had been presented to him recently by Lord Wellington. No one would have guessed from his attentive manner and pleasant chitchat that he was champing at the bit, though his eyes were inclined to roam every now and then. He obtained his release after a few minutes by presenting his comrade to Lady Georgiana and leaving Major Peters to secure her interest with his ready conversation. Dominic carefully quartered the ballroom with his eyes, his commanding height an advantage in this activity. Even so, he did not immediately spot his betrothed’s lovely form. Undaunted, the earl started to make his steady way toward a corner where a number of blue and green uniforms denoting members of the Dutch and Belgian military forces were clustered. Long-time knowledge of his fellow officers told him he would always find the reigning belles in their midst. In a few minutes, the colonel had bowed his way through the press of people surrounding the dance floor, tossing off a greeting now and then, but refusing to be intercepted by importuning friends. His persistence was rewarded with a glimpse of a shining dark head and a slim figure, clad in a rose-coloured gown within a crowd of foreign officers. He stood quietly outside the circle for a few seconds until he caught Pamela’s eye. Her famous smile flashed briefly in his direction before she returned her attention to the members of her court.

  Dominic’s pleasant expression did not alter by a hair, but appalled chagrin flooded through him. They had been apart for five long days. Could she still be intent on carrying on that ridiculous campaign of retribution? It seemed she could, incredible though it must be thought. In the next ten minutes, there were none
of those speaking glances exchanged between lovers; indeed, the earl might have been invisible or absent for all the notice taken of him by his betrothed. He stood there patiently, his countenance calm, and when one of Pamela’s admirers bowed and left the inner circle, he moved into his place by her side. At that point, she allocated him another of her smiles.

  “Dominic, are you acquainted with these gentlemen? May I make you known to Captain van Dorn, Major van Schuyler, Graf Doelsma, Captain Count Henri Levèque, and Major Rasmussen. Gentlemen, my fiancé, Colonel Lord Creighton.”

  Everyone acknowledged the introductions with punctilious form, and the bantering talk continued, though now the earl was included. He played his part perfectly, his breeding such that he automatically controlled a rising impatience to be private with his fiancée, which was all to the good, since she apparently felt no similar longing. When the musicians struck up for the first number, a young British officer in the dress of a hussar appeared at Lady Tremayne’s side to claim his dance. Dominic laid a finger on his fiancée’s arm and said with a smile, “I trust you have saved me some waltzes?”