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

by Dorothy Mack

  “Oh yes, Becky! I don’t wish to brag, but that time you pinned the tear in my flounce was the only dance I missed all night.” The dreamy expression had been replaced by a teasing gleam as the girl looked at the other woman from under her lashes. “I don’t believe you sat out many dances either.”

  Miss Beckworth chuckled low in her throat. “It’s been years since I’ve danced at all. Tomorrow I shall probably ache in every joint as a reminder that I am not so young as I pretended tonight.”

  “General Forrester puts many a younger man to shame on the dance floor, doesn’t he?” Adrienne asked with studied innocence.

  “Most of the Duke’s officers are splendid performers in the ballroom.”

  “Ah, but not as good as General Forrester, do not you agree?”

  “From my observation,” said Miss Beckworth, refusing to be drawn, “I would have to award the palm to Dominic tonight, though Major Peters was rather impressive in the quadrille.”

  “Yes,” Adrienne agreed, “but not quite so easy to follow as Dominic, to my way of thinking. I would rather dance with Dominic than anyone else.”

  “Isn’t he a bit too tall for you?” asked Miss Beckworth with assumed carelessness. “I am persuaded he and Lady Tremayne were the handsomest couple in the room tonight. They are so well-matched, both tall, one fair and the other dark.”

  “I would agree that they were the handsomest young couple there, but you and the general were by far the best-looking mature couple.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” Miss Beckworth replied politely. Only the dry note in her voice betrayed that Adrienne’s teasing had not gone unnoted. She sighed and abandoned temporarily any further attempt to reinforce the situation vis-à-vis Dominic and Lady Tremayne in the young girl’s mind. Given the funning humour Adrienne was in at present, she could not even be sure she had made a beginning. It was something that must be done, however. From now on, she would not neglect a single opportunity to impress upon Adrienne that her cousin and Lady Tremayne were committed to each other. She only wished she dared indulge optimism that her words would have the intended effect. She settled back and allowed the girl’s cheerful prattle to wash over her almost unheeded.

  Disappointment flooded through Adrienne the next morning when she arose to see a light rain falling from leaden skies. There would be no early ride today. Disconsolately she padded back to her bed and sat on the edge. No call to hurry through her morning toilette; breakfast wouldn’t be served for an age yet. She yawned hugely and eyed her warm pillow. It had been nearly two by the time she had retired to bed last night.

  When she opened her eyes again, the morning was much advanced. She scrambled into her clothes with no thought expended on her appearance.

  Miss Beckworth looked over at the slightly breathless girl in the doorway to the breakfast room and smiled a greeting. “Did you oversleep?”

  “Yes, I…” Adrienne’s eyes left the crumpled serviette at the place at the end of the table and dwelt on the sole occupant of the room. “Has Dominic already left for headquarters?”

  Miss Beckworth nodded. “A few minutes ago. He said to tell you he was sorry to miss your morning ride.” She followed the girl’s movements as she seated herself at the table, noting the slight droop to her posture and the downcast eyes. “According to Dominic, you are making splendid progress,” she continued brightly. “Soon the lessons will be unnecessary.”

  The aquamarine gaze lifted from the steaming liquid in Adrienne’s cup to her duenna’s face. “Did Dominic say that?”

  “Not in so many words,” Miss Beckworth denied after a barely perceptible pause. “I know he has been pleased to oversee the lessons and is quite proud of your prowess, but it must be a bit of an inconvenience to him, so busy as he has been lately.” Not a lie, certainly, though her conscience protested that such a free interpretation of Dominic’s thoughts was unjustified. She gave her conscience a metaphorical kick with the rationalization that desperate situations called for desperate measures. It was her duty to do all in her power to protect one who stood in the position of a daughter to her from the consequences of bestowing her heart on an unattainable object.

  It would be unjust to say that Adrienne moped about the house that morning. She spent an hour or so playing cards with Jean-Paul before joining Miss Beckworth in the parlour the ladies used when they were alone. She willingly followed Becky’s lead in conversation and remained politely attentive, but the older woman felt the effort that was expended to maintain a cheerful air. There were no callers that morning to provide a diversion, but a note was delivered while they were at luncheon inviting Adrienne to watch the scheduled review that afternoon of the English, Scottish, and Hanoverian troops stationed in Brussels and its environs. The girl brightened considerably at the request, which was from Major Peters, and looked to Miss Beckworth in hopeful anticipation.

  “Major Peters says we could see it better on horseback, and he has included Luc in his invitation too. May we go please, Becky? You would like that, would you not, Luc?”

  At that moment, Miss Beckworth was experiencing all the discomfort of one who has been hoist with her own petard. Not four hours ago, she had been hinting that Adrienne’s riding lessons would soon be unneeded, but the girl had never ridden except with her cousin, and she was somewhat loath to grant permission without seeking Dominic’s opinion. On the other hand, here was a perfect opportunity to widen Adrienne’s experience with a personable young man, and perhaps, hopefully, give her thoughts another direction. She could not think that Major Peters would be other than solicitous for his guest’s safety, and Luc would be there for additional protection. She smiled at the expectant young faces regarding her and voiced her approval of the plan, since the sun had come out and promised to dry out the ground.

  Adrienne’s spirits rebounded with true Castle volatility as she dashed upstairs to change into her habit after lunch. While Marie’s clever fingers tamed the glowing mass of russet curls into a neat setting for the flattering visored hat, her mistress hummed a march tune, pausing once to ask after the condition of Marie’s mother, who had been feeling poorly of late. She listened intelligently to the symptoms the maid listed and recommended a special elixir she and Becky had found soothing in the past. Before leaving the room, she slipped some money into Marie’s hand and promised to ask Madame Bonnet to allow the maid an hour off from her duties to go to the apothecary to make the purchase.

  Adrienne joined Miss Beckworth in the small drawing room, where each worked on a piece of stitchery in a companionable silence punctuated by short exchanges of familial observations. The girl’s smile of welcome when Major Peters was eventually ushered in by Moulton caused that gentleman’s step to falter momentarily while his own polite smile warmed in response.

  Adrienne was uncannily like her father, Miss Beckworth marvelled, observing the scene. Matthew too had drawn people like a magnet to the core of his human warmth. And neither of them recognized it for the rare gift it was. Miss Beckworth dissembled her amusement when their guest recollected his manners suddenly and turned to greet her first, looking slightly self-conscious despite his fluency. She extended her hand with a friendly air, approving his correct address to a young lady and her chaperone. Nevertheless, when the social preliminaries were over, she voiced her concern that Adrienne was still an inexperienced rider.

  Major Peters nodded reassuringly. “I am aware, ma’am, and I promise you very little in the way of actual riding skill will be required of Miss Castle today. It just seemed that horseback offered a better vantage point for watching the review, but if you would be easier in your mind, we could drive to the area and join the crowds on foot.”

  Before Miss Beckworth could reply, Luc stuck his head in the door and announced that Nelson had brought the horses around. Mindful of the depths of disappointment the boy would plumb at being obliged to ride tamely in a carriage when he might be on horseback, Miss Beckworth swallowed her reservations, saying all that was proper in s
eeing the small party off at the front door.

  “Where are we heading? Where is the review?” Adrienne demanded as soon as they were mounted and their escort had dismissed the groom and given a coin to the enterprising adolescent who had walked his black charger while he was inside.

  Major Peters smiled down into the eager face with its jewel-bright eyes. “The review is in the Allée Verte.”

  “Will the hussars be parading? I should love to see all those beautiful horses and their magnificent riders.”

  “Don’t you read the papers?” snorted Luc. “There won’t be any cavalry at all. This is a review of the troops that will make up Wellington’s Reserve Corps.”

  “Never mind, Miss Castle,” Major Peters said in response to the disappointment his guest could not quite conceal, “Sir Denis Pack will be parading his Highland brigade, and where there are Highlanders there are sure to be pipes. Between the plumed hats and the kilts and the pipes, there should be colour and magnificence enough to satisfy even the tastes of a gypsy.”

  And so it turned out. The Scots brigades may have been favourites of the cheering, waving crowd of Bruxellois, but as Major Peters pointed out, the British Fifth Division, which would be commanded by Sir Thomas Picton, included some of the most experienced regiments in the army, and the Hanoverian troops commanded by Colonel von Vincke were also seasoned men.

  Luc was searching among the green-coated ranks of the Ninety-fifth Riflemen for a soldier he had met somewhere in the town, and Major Peters was quietly enjoying the vivid picture Miss Castle made in her blue habit with the sea-green eyes sparkling and cheeks flying flags of colour when the object of his admiration gave a squeal and tugged at his arm.

  “Look over there, practically next to the Duke. Isn’t that Dominic?”

  “I believe it is. When the last of the troops have passed, shall we drift over there to say hello if the crowd permits?”

  “Oh yes,” breathed Adrienne ecstatically. “I may never come this close to the Duke again. Wait till I tell Becky!”

  Major Peters sighed dramatically. “Alas, the rest of us hardworking fellows don’t stand a chance to keep the ladies’ attention when Old Hookey is around.”

  “Don’t be nonsensical,” scolded Miss Castle. “Of course everyone desires the honour of seeing England’s saviour at close range. There is nothing personal in it.”

  “You greatly relieve my mind, Miss Castle,” said her escort meekly, accepting along with the set-down the knowledge that his naively charming companion had little taste for flirtation.

  The trio was spotted by Lord Creighton before the field marshal’s party left the reviewing area. Surprise and a quickly suppressed flash of some emotion more difficult to identify showed in his face before he turned and said something to his commander. Fortunately for an inexperienced young lady’s shaky composure, they were almost upon the scene before a pair of keen blue eyes under heavily marked brows were directed her way. At the same instant, she became aware that Lady Tremayne was also present. She was too intent on subduing the automatic frisson of aversion that accompanied any meeting with her cousin’s betrothed to have leisure to develop any nervousness at the honour that was about to be hers.

  Dominic came and lifted her down from Bijou, tucking her hand under his arm as he brought her up to the Duke. “Sir, may I present my cousin, Miss Adrienne Castle?”

  “So you are the reason all the subalterns wish to run errands to Creighton’s house lately,” the Duke said, to widen Adrienne’s eyes as she rose from her curtsy. “Can’t say that I blame them. Delighted to meet you, Miss Castle.”

  When Adrienne had said how-do-you-do in a soft voice tinged with shyness, it was Luc’s turn to receive the great man’s benevolent attention. His bow was a credit to his upbringing, but he was too tongue-tied to do more than utter, “Sir!” in a reverent croak.

  His Grace of Wellington laughed good-naturedly and clapped the boy on the shoulder. “You’d soon lose that awe if you were a foot soldier under my command. I shudder to think what they call me when I’m out of earshot.”

  “I w-wish I were a soldier under your command, sir,” Luc declared fervently, finding his tongue in a rush.

  “Come see me in a couple of years,” said the field marshal kindly.

  “You remember Major Peters, sir,” Colonel Creighton interrupted before Luc could recover enough to beg the Duke to accept his enlistment on the spot.

  “Of course. General Uxbridge was telling me last week that you were settling in well. Glad to hear it, Major.”

  “Thank you, sir,”

  The Duke expressed the hope that everyone had enjoyed the review. He was listening to the Castles’ enthusiastic comments with a tolerant smile when an aide approached to remind him of an appointment.

  There was an appreciable void after the field marshal had excused himself. Wellington wasn’t a large man, not physically imposing except for that formidable Roman nose, nor did he conduct himself with any degree of consciousness, but his electric presence was always felt by well-wishers and foes alike. At his request, the colonel had accompanied him to speak with several other officers. Lady Tremayne, who had taken no part in the brief meeting of the Duke with her fiancé’s cousins beyond an initial greeting, was pulling her gloves back and forth through her fingers, not troubling to conceal her boredom as Adrienne and Luc relived the thrill of the last few minutes, both bubbling over with excitement. Major Peters answered their questions with smiling good nature until Dominic came striding back.

  “We left our horses quite close by. Shall we ride back together?” he suggested pleasantly.

  By the time the enlarged party had reassembled, the crowds had dispersed somewhat from the area. They rode at the leisurely pace demanded by the clogged conditions of the Allée.

  “Had I known that you wished to see the review, I’d have made arrangements for you to come with Pamela and me,” Lord Creighton remarked to Adrienne when Lady Tremayne had engaged Major Peters’ attention for the moment. “You should have told me.”

  Adrienne produced her infectious chuckle. “Well, I could not very well tell you when I was not even aware there was going to be a review until I received Major Peters’ invitation today.”

  There was a short silence; then Lord Creighton said, “I am a bit … surprised that Becky allowed you to go riding on your own.”

  A puzzled aquamarine gaze swung to his. “But you told her you were very pleased with my progress. And as Major Peters pointed out, there is very little skill required to amble along as we have done today.”

  Overhearing this observation, the major addressed his old friend. “You are to be congratulated, Dominic. Your pupil does you great credit in the saddle.”

  “She is not yet ready to go jauntering off all over town with every young redcoat who fancies himself a devil to go on horseback,” the earl replied rather shortly for one of his equable nature.

  “I could not agree more, old chap.” The major’s voice was a smooth contrast.

  Lady Tremayne angled her large grey closer to Adrienne, and the earl obligingly fell back to make room. “You have made wonderful progress with your riding, Miss Castle. You look quite at home in the saddle and are no doubt ready to move up to a more suitable mount.”

  Adrienne thanked her but laughingly denied any intention of changing horses as she leaned over to pat the chestnut’s neck. “Bijou is my friend. We understand each other. I could never serve her such a backhanded trick.”

  It was unclear precisely what happened next, but the nervous grey that Lady Tremayne handled so superbly apparently took exception to something along the way and lunged sideways. While his rider struggled to bring him under control, Bijou suddenly bolted across the avenue. Her rider was too stunned and alarmed to put forth any constructive efforts at all. To the contrary, she dropped the reins, closed her eyes, and clung to the chestnut’s mane while half-formed prayers whirled through her mind. Above the drumming of her own heartbeat in her ears, she was
dimly aware of thundering hooves and a voice calling her name. It almost sounded like someone was yelling for her to jump, which was absurd of course. She was having all she could do to avoid being thrown; in fact, she was losing her grip and sliding farther and farther…

  “Adrienne, speak to me! Please, love, open your eyes. Adrienne!”

  The voice was very far away but quite insistent, and she did her best to comply — there was a note of urgency that compelled her — but the effort was too great. The darkness was pleasant, though the bed was decidedly uncomfortable, and something was sticking into her hip. Strange, her hand was being raised and held and … surely, kissed! Who would do such a thing? Her lids lifted reluctantly. At first, nothing was clear; she blinked and the blur resolved itself into two burning blue eyes in a white face set in a grim expression she had never seen before. It frightened her.

  “D-Dominic?”

  “Thank heavens!” His jaw softened a bit and she felt her fear dissolve. How foolish to be afraid of Dominic!

  “Did I fall off?” she asked in such surprise that her cousin’s lips twitched.

  “You did indeed.”

  “Someone told me to jump! Was that you?” Surprise had given way to indignation.

  “Bijou was heading straight for the canal,” he explained. “She veered away at the last minute. That’s when you were thrown.”

  “Oh!” She became aware that her hand, stripped of its glove, was being held in his, and at the same instant, that the world consisted of more than the two of them. The concerned face of Major Peters came into view above her.

  “Are you all right, Miss Castle?”

  She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I think so.” She registered Lady Tremayne’s black-habited figure at the periphery of her vision but avoided looking that way. “Where is Luc?”