“Grandmamma, however, is delightfully misguided about my charms,” Lizzie said with a playful grin. “She believes the ladies at the ball will faint with envy when they see me!”
Martha’s gap-tooth smile reemerged, as did her placid demeanor. Even so, Lizzie worried that she had not managed to entirely erase any doubts that might have been in the old servant’s head: from the corner of her eye she saw Martha give one more furtive glance at the silhouette before following her out.
*
“The ladies certainly are taking their time,” Geoffrey remarked, looking at his pocket watch yet again. He had been waiting in the Thornboroughs’ library with James for what seemed like an age, keenly anticipating seeing Ria again. Each hour he’d spent with her over the past several weeks increased his desire to see her more, like some kind of inverted appetite that grew sharper with each morsel of food.
“Her tardiness is to be expected,” James said. “Ria is such a vain creature, you know.” He checked his lapel and flicked some minuscule fleck of dust off his coat sleeve as he spoke, causing Geoffrey to wonder briefly who was the more vain of the two.
Geoffrey noticed a slender book that was poking out from under a pile of newspapers lying on the table next to him. He pulled it out and opened it to the title page. It was a volume of poetry by Lord Tennyson. “Is this yours?”
James shook his head. “I find poetry deadly dull, except for a few sonnets that can be read aloud to garner the right reactions from the ladies.”
Geoffrey suspected that James’s arsenal of poetic overtures was probably small, but effective.
“Ria’s been reading that book,” James explained.
“Has she?” Geoffrey said, bemused. “I don’t recall hearing that Ria cared for poetry.”
“It seems to be something she picked up in Australia.”
“Picked up?” Geoffrey smiled. “You say that as though poetry were a disease of some kind.”
“So it is, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I happen to like poetry,” Geoffrey said.
“Well, that’s one more thing you two have in common, then.” He gave Geoffrey a knowing look. “Who knew you and Ria would have so many similar interests?”
“Yes,” Geoffrey murmured. “Who knew?” He leafed through the tiny volume. It opened on a poem entitled “Adeline.” He began to read.
“Mystery of mysteries,
Faintly smiling Adeline,
Scarce of earth nor all divine,
Nor unhappy, nor at rest,
But beyond expression fair
With thy floating flaxen hair;
Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes…”
Geoffrey scarcely realized he was reading aloud until James remarked, “Now there is poetry I could use—if I were courting a blonde, of course.”
“With thy floating flaxen hair…”
The author might as well have called the poem “Victoria,” he thought with a start.
“Thy rose-lips and full blue eyes…
Take the heart from out my breast.”
Just then Ria appeared in the doorway, breathtaking in a shimmering blue silk gown. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and wrist. “Wherefore those dim looks of thine—shadowy, dreaming Adeline?” Her blond ringlets bounced a little as she spoke, drawing attention to her violet-blue eyes, which the dress seemed to have brought out and darkened. Her voice, too, seemed deeper. Sultry, almost.
Geoffrey stood up, closing the book, acutely aware his hands were shaking. Take the heart from out my breast. He cleared his throat. “I see you know the poem.”
Ria nodded. “Edward used to quote it often, except he would change ‘Adeline’ to ‘Ria mine.’ He used to say that Tennyson’s muse must look exactly like… me.” She laughed softly. “I used to chide him for it, but now I would give anything to hear him reading that poem again.”
The room grew still. Geoffrey stared at her in quiet fascination. Even James appeared taken aback by the depth of feeling in Ria’s words.
He could picture Edward reading this poem to her. Like James, Edward had probably used romantic poetry for the artful seduction of the ladies. But Geoffrey had the sense that, for his brother, things would have changed dramatically when it came to Ria. Edward would have spoken the words with more depth than even the poet himself could have intended. He would have joyfully lost himself in her exquisite beauty.
Even as he was.
Every nerve in his body thrummed with this knowledge. He was beginning to care for Ria in dangerous and forbidden ways. Be careful, man, he warned himself. This is your brother’s widow.
Ria closed the book and wiped a tear from her eye. Even in sorrow she was more beautiful than the best poet could describe. Geoffrey was discovering to his profound chagrin that the heart could not be reined in as easily as he had once believed.
“Dear Ria.” James took gentle hold of her hand. “You are not alone. You have us.” It was a rare display of genuine tenderness from James. Ria gave him a grateful smile.
Geoffrey was tempted to be envious, seeing how much the two cousins cared for each other. He wished he and Ria might one day share that kind of bond, even if all else was denied him. She turned her stunning eyes in his direction, and he tried to do as James had done, to give her some reassurance. “Though Edward would happily point out that I am a poor second, you have me as well.”
She shook her head. “You are your own man, Geoffrey. To say you are a poor second is to do yourself a great injustice.”
As far as Geoffrey was concerned, the Queen herself could not have bestowed a greater honor.
Lady Thornborough entered the room in time to hear Ria’s words. “Who is a poor second?” she asked.
“I am, of course,” James said smoothly. “Ria is lavishing praise upon Geoffrey and utterly forgetting about me.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “Shall I never get the respect due to me as the head of the family?”
“You?” Lady Thornborough countered. “Head of the family?”
“You see?” James indicated his aunt’s incredulous expression. “That is precisely what I mean.”
Ria laughed and took hold of James’s arm. “Well, you are the last man standing. There’s something in that.”
“That’s a girl,” James said, patting her hand. “Always looking on the bright side.”
Lady Thornborough looked expectantly at James and Geoffrey. “Are we ready to go, gentlemen?”
As they made their way out to the moonlit night, Geoffrey drew nearer to Ria while James assisted Lady Thornborough into the carriage. He said quietly, “You look lovely this evening.”
He was rewarded by her smile. “Thank you.” Her brow wrinkled just a tiny bit. “You don’t feel I am coming out too soon?”
Geoffrey shook his head. “I’m sure that Edward would not have wanted you to remain a recluse.”
“Grandmamma assured me of that, too, and yet I am glad to hear it from you.”
“Is my opinion really so important to you then?” How far they had come since she had first declared that she did not care what he thought of her. Had she changed? Or had something changed between them? No, he said to himself once more. Do not go down that path. Even if her regard for you grows greater, she thinks only of you as a brother-in-law.
“Geoffrey,” Ria said—his name sounded delightful coming from her rose-lips—“if I thought my presence at tonight’s ball would bring disrepute upon either of our families, I wouldn’t go.”
“Trust me, there is nothing shameful in your actions.”
Geoffrey could not say the same for what was going on in his own mind. He helped her into the carriage, and in the close darkness her rose scent reached him with a more intoxicating pull than ever. He would have to be careful to spend no more time with her this evening than would be considered customary. But he would dance with her. This was allowable, and he had no intention of appearing to spurn his sister-in-law. For the first time in longer than he could remember, the right thing
to do was the thing Geoffrey also wanted to do above all else.
Chapter 19
The Reverend the Right Honorable Lord Somerville!”
The footman announced Geoffrey with a booming voice that carried easily across the din of music and conversation. Lizzie’s nerves tingled in anticipation. She must have been gripping James’s arm more tightly than she realized, for he gently loosed her hand, giving her a wink as he did so.
“Relax, cousin,” he said in her ear. “Everyone will love you. They always have.”
“Mr. James Simpson! Mrs. Edward Somerville!” The footman’s voice once again boomed across the ballroom.
Lizzie and James stepped forward to join Geoffrey and Lady Thornborough. Lizzie might well have been stepping out onto a stage—and what an opulent stage it was. From the wide landing where she stood, a long flight of stairs led down to an immense ballroom crowded with men dressed in elegant black or in the rich red of army uniforms, and women arrayed in a rainbow of colors, and everyone pausing to look up at her. She had just made a very grand entrance indeed. She was breathless, terrified, and ecstatic.
Brightly lit crystal chandeliers cheerfully laid out everything before her: from the velvet-seated chairs lining the long walls to the additional doors that opened to yet more rooms filled, as far as Lizzie could see, with food-laden tables. Even during her ill-fated months with Freddie, she had never been to an event as magnificent as this. She had never had an entire assembly of gentlemen and ladies looking at her—her!—with such admiration.
“What a crush!” Lady Thornborough murmured.
James looked over the crowd with the air of a king.
“Would you care to wave to your subjects?” Lizzie teased.
James smirked. “Perhaps later. If they are worthy.”
They began descending the stairs at a regal pace, with Geoffrey and Lady Thornborough in the lead. Near the bottom of the stairs, Lizzie spotted a half-dozen or so young ladies whom she’d met during her calls with Lady Thornborough. Not surprisingly, they were whispering to one another and sending brilliant smiles in Geoffrey’s direction—clearly doing their best to attract the catch of the season. A crazy stab of envy went through her as she realized that they were all quite fetching. Except perhaps for Miss Lucinda Cardington, who was a trifle too red in the face and fanning herself, looking exceedingly uncomfortable.
Miss Emily Cardington was the only lady who had eyes for anyone other than Geoffrey. She peered coyly at James from behind her fan, her eyes shining. Lizzie was dismayed to see James returning the girl’s interest with fascination, although at the moment he could do no more than give her a smile and a genial nod. Emily would be out of her depths with him, Lizzie thought. Perhaps she should offer Emily some sage advice. She had no time to reflect on this, however, as they were met at the bottom of the stairs by their host and hostess.
“Lord and Lady Beauchamp, I am so happy to be able to present my granddaughter to you this evening,” Lady Thornborough said. The pride in her voice was unmistakable, and it quickly brought Lizzie back to the reason she was here. It was time to do her very best to look, act, and be Ria.
Lady Beauchamp, a tall, willowy woman, took Lizzie’s hand and said warmly, “How delightful to see you again!”
Again? When had Ria seen her? Under what circumstances? Lady Thornborough had said nothing to indicate there had been a previous acquaintance. Lizzie was aware that she was creating an uncomfortable pause as she tried to think of a response.
“Perhaps you do not remember me,” Lady Beauchamp said, perceiving Lizzie’s discomfort. “You were only a child the last time we met. Your father brought you to our estate in Lincolnshire, where we had planned a day of riding.”
Lizzie’s relief at being thus rescued by Lady Beauchamp was quickly overtaken by surprise. Ria hated horses. She never rode, and was uncomfortable even being near them. Edward had often voiced disappointment when Ria steadfastly refused his entreaties to give her lessons.
“The day did not go well,” Lady Beauchamp said. “Perhaps you have blocked it from your memory. We put you on Blue Moon, the very gentlest mare we had, but somehow she bucked and nearly threw you off. You were crying and panicking and clinging to that saddle for dear life. Your father managed to get you off the mare, but as I recall, it was a good hour before we could calm you down.”
Ria had not related this event to Lizzie, although it was well in line with a remark she once made. “They are horrid beasts,” she had said. “They take one look at me and they just know it’s time to have it out. We both keep our distance, and it’s a good thing, too.”
However, for the first time Lizzie decided not to repeat Ria’s words. For all their similarities, here was one great difference between them. Lizzie was born to ride. Australia had been a land of far too much grief, to be sure. But it was also where she’d ridden a horse for the very first time. She’d taken to it instinctively. It was pure exhilaration to race across the vast grasslands; giving her endless delight and the feeling of absolute freedom. No, she could not give that up. Not for anything. Perhaps, she thought impulsively, it was time for “Ria” to get over her abhorrence of horses. “It is true that horses and I, ah, disliked each other at that time, but—”
“Disliked!” James interjected with a snort. “You were at war!”
“Let’s just say that during my time in Australia, I was able to arrange a truce. I did some riding there, actually.”
It was an enormous risk, she knew, to move in a direction so contrary to Ria’s nature. She did not miss Lady Thornborough’s look of utter disbelief. But how could she give up riding? She must convince them that, in this one point at least, Ria had changed.
James eyed her curiously. “Cousin,” he said with a smile, “I will have to believe that when I see it.”
Geoffrey did not look as skeptical as the others. Rather, he looked impressed. “I have an excellent stable of horses, and the countryside around my estate has some lovely paths. Perhaps one day soon we might ride together.”
Now Lizzie knew she had made the right decision. What a delight it would be to ride side by side with Geoffrey along a country lane or over a green meadow. “That would be wonderful!” she exclaimed. “When can we go?”
This came out with such artless sincerity that it caused Lady Thornborough to smile. “My dearest Ria,” she said. “Unpredictable as ever.”
Buoyed by this victory, Lizzie supposed there would be nothing she couldn’t handle this evening.
Lord and Lady Beauchamp moved on to greet other guests. Geoffrey, too, was obliged to leave them for a while, explaining that with so many of London’s deepest pockets gathered in one place, it was the perfect opportunity for him to make beneficial connections for his charity.
And so Lizzie followed James and Lady Thornborough into the current of people as easily as a twig moving into a stream, happily enduring countless introductions and growing more confident as the evening progressed.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Lady Thornborough asked her later, once they had found a moment’s leisure to sit and watch the dancing. “Are you glad you came out tonight?”
“Oh, yes,” Lizzie answered without hesitation. “Everyone has been so kind.” Despite Geoffrey’s gloomy predictions that she would be scrutinized like an animal in a cage, most people had been politely respectful, offering condolences about Edward and asking only very general questions about her time in Australia.
James had been dancing with a pretty young debutante, and when the dance was over, he led his partner over to meet them. “Do you remember Miss Fitzroy, the little terror who always seemed to be hiding behind the sofa whenever you and the elder Miss Fitzroy attempted to share confidences?”
This bizarre introduction sent Miss Fitzroy into giggles.
“Of course I remember,” Lizzie said. “And shame on you, James, for providing such an inelegant introduction.” In truth, she was thankful that James kept unwittingly providing the kind of informatio
n that enabled her to put faces to the names Ria had given her. “And how is your sister? Is she here?” Lizzie knew she would have to speak to Ellen Fitzroy if she was here tonight, since Ellen and Ria had once been friends.
“She is married now, and at home awaiting the arrival of her fourth child.”
“Fourth!” Lizzie exclaimed. “How wonderful for them.” She was relieved, too, that this would be one “acquaintance” she would not have to renew this evening. In fact, everything tonight had been surprisingly easy.
The orchestra struck up a waltz. “Please excuse me,” Miss Fitzroy said, “but I must be going. I’ve promised this dance to Mr. Spencer.”
“I’ll take you to him,” James offered. “More than likely we’ll find him at the punch table.”
Lizzie watched as they skirted the dance floor to reach one of the adjoining rooms.
Lady Thornborough said, “We must also find you a dance partner, Ria.”
“I think I would like that,” Lizzie replied. She was truly enjoying herself this evening, in a lighthearted way that she had not experienced for a long time.
And then she heard Geoffrey’s voice behind her. “Will I suffice?”
Lizzie turned around. How had she gone almost an entire hour without thinking about this man? Now as he stood there, looking alarmingly handsome, she could think of little else. His dark eyes and the fine cut of his jaw took her breath away. He flashed one of his rare smiles and extended his hand.
Her heart lost several beats as she felt the warmth of his touch through her thin gloves. A joyous, heady feeling pulsed through her—one she had not known for too many years. Yes, she would dance. How had she even considered not coming tonight? How had she not realized she might have given up an opportunity to be in his arms again—if only for a dance?
He led her through the crowd. Lizzie was aware of curious and admiring glances as they passed. When they reached the center of the dance floor, Geoffrey turned to her and rested his hand confidently on the small of her back, setting her alight with anticipation. She brought her hand up to his shoulder, marveling again at how broad it was, and looked into his eyes.
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