Velvet Chains (Historical Romance)

by Constance O'Banyon

  Season gasped at the underhanded insult that had just been dealt her, and she looked to Rebecca for guidance. Before Rebecca could reply, Mariana's mother joined the conversation.

  "I was certainly not aware that you were from England, Mistress Chatsworth."

  "La, Mother, how could you miss it? Have you not listened to the fancy way she speaks? If she doesn't come from England, it's a safe bet that she was educated in England."

  "You have a good ear, Mistress Bartlett, and you are quite right. I have only recently come from England," Season put in. "I find I like your lovely country very much." She had seen the fire in Rebecca's eyes and had realized that her friend was ready to do battle on her behalf. But Season didn't want to be the cause of Rebecca having trouble with her neighbors.

  "My country!" Mariana said sarcastically. "You English are determined that the United States will remain under your domination."

  Season's face whitened, and she saw the satisfied smile on Mariana's mother's face. Not knowing what to say, she turned to Rebecca.

  "If you insult my friend, Mariana, then you insult my brother and me as well," Rebecca warned.

  "Just how good a friend is she, Rebecca?" Mariana wanted to know. "Is she your friend or your brother's?"

  Rebecca realized that the angry glint in Mariana's eyes indicated jealousy, and she was about to voice that opinion when a deep voice spoke up from behind her.

  "Season happens to be a friend to us both," Lucas Carrington drawled.

  Four pair of eyes fastened on Lucas as he slipped his arm about his sister's waist and took Season's hand in his. His eyes sought Mariana's.

  "It is very kind of you, Mariana, to make our guest feel so at home," he said, raising an eyebrow.

  Mariana lowered her lashes, mortified because Lucas had overheard the conversation, but she managed to recover quickly.

  "Lucas, you awful man, I am so happy to see you, even though you have neglected me shamefully." With a pout on her pretty mouth, she moved to his side, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him boldly on the lips.

  Lucas smiled. "I find it amazing that you are still single, Mariana. How can it be that some young gentleman hasn't already made you his wife? You are far too beautiful to remain unmarried for so long."

  "She's waiting for you," Rebecca mumbled under her breath, so only her brother could hear. Lucas arched an eyebrow at his sister and a slight smile touched his lips as his hand tightened on Season's.

  Mariana pulled on Lucas' arm, forcing him to release Season's hand. "Come and dance with me, Lucas. It's been simply ages since we danced together."

  "How remiss of me, Mariana," he said, leading her to the dance floor.

  "Don't they look well suited?" Mrs. Bartlett said, glancing pointedly at Season.

  "Indeed they do, ma'am," Season agreed, and Mrs. Bartlett walked away with a satisfied smile on her face.

  "If Lucas isn't careful, that witch will get her claws into him," Rebecca observed.

  "I had the mistaken impression that you and Mistress Bartlett were friends, Rebecca."

  "No, she has never been a friend of mine. All she ever wants is to get Lucas to propose to her so she can get her hands on Rosemont."

  Season looked at Lucas Carrington. He seemed to stand out from all the other men. Like many of the other gentlemen in the room, he didn't wear knee breeches, but was dressed in gray pantaloons tucked into black boots. His matching jacket was unbuttoned, revealing the white lawn shirt beneath, and his black hair was neatly tied back in a queue. He was tall, handsome, and very male.

  "A woman would have to be blind to want to marry your brother only to get her hands on your plantation. No. I do not believe for one moment that Mistress Bartlett could only be thinking of Rosemont, Rebecca."

  "I want to apologize to you for her shameful behavior. She is just jealous. She thinks Lucas is interested in you. I hope Lucas doesn't tell her that you are engaged to marry cousin Edmund. I would enjoy watching her suffer."

  "She is very lovely. Do you think Lucas is interested in her?"

  "Who can say with Lucas? As far back as I can remember he has had women chasing after him, but I do not believe his heart has ever been engaged by any of them. I cannot say how he feels about Mariana, but if she had her way they would be married tomorrow."

  Season sighed. "One thing is certain; Mistress Bartlett and her mother are not overly fond of me."

  "Of course not. You are beautiful, and they are afraid that Lucas is interested in you."

  "Oh, surely you are mistaken. They couldn't think that. I hope you will set them straight on that point," Season said, feeling distressed.

  Rebecca laughed delightedly. "No, I don't think I will. It would be much nicer to see them both squirm a bit. I have no fondness for either of them."

  "You are a minx, just as your brother says. I wonder if Robert knows what he's getting himself into with you."

  "I would be a fool to let him know my true self until I have him hooked good and proper." Rebecca laughed.

  Season laughed too, and both girls turned to watch Lucas lead Mariana off the dance floor and over to the punch bowl. Season watched Lucas smile as Mariana Bartlett placed a hand on his shoulder. It seemed to Season that he liked the woman a great deal. She wondered why that thought bothered her.

  A short time later Lucas excused himself from Mariana and crossed the room to Season and his sister. Taking Season's hand, he bowed to her.

  "I have done my duty by dancing with the hostess' daughter. Now I wonder if you would honor me with the next dance?"

  "Are you not concerned that Mistress Bartlett will take exception if you dance with me?" she asked, a devilish twinkle in her green eyes.

  He offered her his arm. "Let's test her and see."

  Season laughed, suddenly feeling light-hearted. Lucas realized it was the first time he had seen her really laugh, and laughing made her more beautiful than ever.

  "Who am I to say no, if you want to use me to make your lady love jealous?"

  "How can you be sure I wasn't using her to make you jealous?" he said, lowering his lashes and staring at her lips.

  Before Season had time to think about his statement, he bowed and she curtsied; then they circled and turned to the next partner. Season was led around the room and then returned to Lucas.

  "I apologize if I have created trouble for you. Had I realized how the Bartletts felt about the English, I would never have come tonight."

  "Nonsense. It isn't for you to apologize. Mariana was being herself. It would not have mattered where you came from. I would wager her anger stems more from the fact that you are the most beautiful woman here."

  Season caught her breath and quickly lowered her lashes, pleased by his compliment until she reminded herself that he probably spoke glowing words to every woman with whom he came in contact.

  "Tell me, Lucas, did you see Edmund? Did you tell him I was staying at Rosemont?"

  "You ask me two questions, and I'll answer them both with a yes. I must confess Edmund wasn't at all pleased that you were staying with me. He would have come to Virginia to get you, but for one small problem."

  The dance had ended and Lucas led her from the floor. "What problem?"

  "It's very simple. As a British officer, he couldn't very well come to Virginia since he would be shot on sight. If he were to choose to remove his uniform and come to Virginia, he would then be tried and shot as a spy. You can see the dilemma he faces."

  Season nodded, not in the least sorry Edmund couldn't come to Rosemont. She wasn't ready to face him just yet. "Lucas, I wonder if my father has been notified that I am safe? I thought of writing to him, but Rebecca told me they would never allow a letter from Virginia to reach England."

  "I myself tended to it when I was in New York. Your father will soon know of your safe return. I can also arrange for you and your father to correspond if you would like, and I have brought someone back from New York, someone I believe you will be pleased to see."
/>   "Molly?"

  "Yes, Molly, and all your belongings. Your maid was only too eager to accept my offer to bring her to you."

  "Again I am in your debt, Lucas. How will I ever be able to thank you for all your kindnesses?"

  He looked deeply into her eyes. "One day I may ask you to pay."

  Season had no time to reply to his strange statement because Mariana appeared at his side. "Lucas, I would like you to come into the garden with me. Mama has planted some new rose bushes, and they are a most unusual shade of red."

  "If you will excuse us, Season," Lucas said, before Mariana took his arm and led him away.

  Season thought the ball would go on forever. She was weary of dancing with so many different gentlemen, and she was tired of having to keep a pasted smile on her face. What is the matter with me? she wondered. Not long ago she would have been delighted to attend a ball. Now, she was grateful when Rebecca came up to her and announced that Lucas was ready to go home.

  Mariana accompanied them to the coach and made Lucas promise he would come to tea the next day, and when the carriage pulled away, Rebecca broke into laughter.

  "You had better watch out, my brother. Mariana has her eye on you as husband material." Rebecca batted her eyes and tried to imitate Mariana's voice. "Lucas dear, I will simply die if you don't come to tea tomorrow at four."

  Lucas couldn't help but laugh, and Season clamped a hand over her mouth so as not to show her mirth. "You minx, do you never tire of badgering me. If I recall correctly, you have said the same thing about a number of other young ladies in the past."

  "When I'm married, I will no longer be able to point out the pitfalls and traps overzealous ladies are setting for you, and chances are you will fall into one of them. You may or may not have noticed, but Season and I were not invited to Mariana's tea tomorrow."

  "I'm not sure you are being fair to Mistress Bartlett, Rebecca; she is a very pretty woman," Season said.

  "Be that as it may," Lucas spoke up, "but she has her mother's temperament."

  "Well, if you have noticed that, there may yet be hope for you, Lucas," his sister declared. "I'm glad you are home," she added, linking her arm through his. "How long can you stay this time?"

  "I must leave first thing Monday morning."

  "I wish you didn't always have to run off to New York," she added wistfully.

  Lucas leaned his head back and crossed his long legs. "I know, Rebecca, but this war cannot last much longer. Soon it will be over and I will have to make no more trips."

  When the carriage pulled up to Rosemont, Season saw Molly standing on the steps. Without waiting for Lucas to help her from the carriage, she ran to her maid and enfolded Molly in her arms.

  "My, lady, my lady, you are safe!" the maid cried. "I thought I would never see you again."

  "It's wonderful that you are here, Molly. Please don't cry. As you can see, I am enjoying good health."

  "Was it awful for you?" Molly wanted to know, looking Season over carefully.

  "We will talk about it later. Right now all I want to do is go to bed."

  "I have emptied all your trunks and put your belongings away. Your nightgown is laid out for you. Oh, my lady, I thought you were lost forever."

  Season took Molly's hand and turned her to face Lucas' sister. "Rebecca, I would like you to meet Molly. She has looked after me ever since I was a child."

  "Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Molly said, bobbing a curtsy.

  "Welcome to Rosemont, Molly. If there is anything you require, just ask Drucilla, and she will assist you."

  Season bid Lucas and Rebecca goodnight and walked up the stairs to her bedroom. How good it was to have Molly with her, she thought. Would she ever be able to repay Lucas and Rebecca for their kindness to her?

  20

  It was the beginning of August when Season began to suspect she was carrying The Raven's child. Each morning she would awaken feeling nauseous. Until then, it had never occurred to her that she had yet another price to pay for loving The Raven. She began to watch and pray for a sign that she wasn't carrying a child. But with the passing of time, she could no longer lie to herself.

  Rebecca was aware that Season had become withdrawn and silent, and for the last week had stayed mostly in her room. Rebecca had instructed the cook to prepare meals she knew Season would like, but they went uneaten. Rebecca even suggested a trip to Williamsburg, hoping it would cheer her friend, but Season refused to go. Nothing Rebecca could do seemed to draw Season out of her dark mood.

  Season continued to brood in her room, and she was beginning to look pale and drawn. Beside herself with worry, Molly kept a watchful eye on her charge.

  Season was in torment. She cried a lot and never went out of the house. Each time Rebecca suggested contacting the doctor, Season dissolved into tears.

  Most of the time Season sat by the window and stared down at the woods at the back of the house. She knew she would have to make a decision before too long; soon she must leave Rosemont. But she couldn't bear the thought of Rebecca finding out about her condition, and she knew she could never face Lucas when the truth became known.

  Often she would curse the man who had got her with child and then abandoned her. At one moment she was sure she hated The Raven, and in the next she silently begged him to come back for her.

  It was the last week in August when a carriage pulled up in front of Rosemont house. Rebecca, seeing her brother disembark, flew out the door and down the steps to meet him.

  "Lucas, thank goodness you are home! Season is very ill and I don't know what to do. She refuses to see the doctor. I am at my wits end with worry."

  Lucas turned to the distinguished gentleman who climbed out of the coach. "Did you hear what my sister has said, Your Grace?"

  The duke looked grim. "Did you say my daughter refused to see a doctor, young lady?"

  "Yes, Your Grace," Rebecca said, bobbing a quick curtsy and staring in awe at Season's father. "I am so glad you are here; perhaps you can make her see the doctor."

  "Show me to my daughter's room immediately," the duke commanded, his voice authoritative.

  Season plucked at the lace on her nightgown. It wasn't like her to just give up. She had always been a fighter, but lately all the fight seemed to have gone out of her. She was frightened and unsure about her future; and she felt there was no one she could trust with her guilty secret.

  Molly watched her lady, a frown on her face. She had tried everything to make Season smile, but so far nothing had helped. The maid feared that if Season didn't begin to eat some solid meals soon she was just going to waste away to skin and bones.

  When the door was suddenly pushed open, Molly's face lit up. She quickly dipped into a deep curtsy. "Your Grace, thank God you've come!" she cried.

  When Season saw her father, a sob escaped her lips. "Papa, oh, Papa," she cried. "I needed you and you came." She held out her trembling hand to her father.

  The duke stood over his daughter, taking in her paleness and noticing how frail she looked. He had never known her to have a sick day in her life. Since he had first received word of her kidnapping, he had been out of his mind with grief. At last he had come to realize she was all he had left in the world. He blamed himself for sending her to America, and he knew that if anything happened to her he would have nothing left.

  Taking her limp hand in his, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed a tumbled curl away from Season's face. The Duke of Chatsworth looked into green eyes that had lost their luster. He couldn't help but think how ironic it would be if, now that he had come to realize how precious his daughter was to him, he might lose her. How like her mother she looked, lying against the pillow which was only a shade whiter than her face.

  "Season my dear, dear child," he said in a voice that shook with emotion.

  "Papa, I am so glad you have come!" she cried. "Do not abandon me now."

  "I will never leave you again, child. When you are well enough, I will take you back t
o Chatsworth, and you will never have to marry anyone if that is your wish. I have already said as much to Edmund Kensworthy."

  Tears streamed down Season's face. Could this be her father, so kind and loving? What would he say when he learned she was with child? That thought only made her cry all the more. How could she ever tell him her guilty secret?

  "I am going to send for the doctor right away, and you will soon be on the mend," he said, tenderly touching her tear-wet cheek.

  Season buried her face against her father's shoulder, knowing she had to tell him the truth even if he hated her for it. Raising her face, she looked into his eyes. "I do not need a doctor to tell me what is wrong with me, Papa. I already know what it is."

  He smiled at her. "I was not aware that you could practice medicine, my dear."

  She looked into his clear green eyes, hating what she must tell him. He was such a proud man, she knew it would rip his heart to shreds. "Papa, I am…with…child," she whispered hesitantly, as fresh tears washed down her face.

  Mason Chatsworth looked thunderstruck for a moment, and he felt his daughter's hand tremble. "That devil! I had hoped that he had not.. ." He stood up and turned his back. "If it's the last thing I ever do, I will see that The Raven hangs for this. How dare he take a young girl and . . ." He turned back to Season. "My poor child, how you must have suffered. I blame myself for this."

  "No, Papa, no, it isn't your fault. I am to blame." Season knew she had to tell him the truth. She couldn't have him think that he was at fault in any way.

  "Papa, please sit beside me. I will not have you blaming yourself. I want you to know the truth."

  He sat down and took her hand in his. "I know you are about to be forgiving, Season, but it is my fault. I promise to make this all up to you somehow."

  "Papa, listen to me. I have never lied to you, and I will not start now. He . . . The Raven . . . didn't force himself on me. I am not the innocent you may think."

  He shook his head. "You are little more than an innocent child. How would you have known how to handle a man like that. No, my dear, you are not to blame. Never again say that you are at fault."