"Somewhat?" Ariel scoffed, snorting. "That is an understatement."
"Very well, you're quite horribly ruined," and here her cousin's eyes dimmed in the light. "After last eve I suppose there's no sense in thinking otherwise."
No, indeed, Ariel silently agreed.
"Still, doing as this man suggests is ridiculous, far too risky. Why, the very thought of it fair bogs my mind. I cannot imagine what you are thinking. Why, your father will string me from a gallow should he hear of it."
"But that's the beauty of it," Ariel said, collecting her light pink skirts before settling in a chair next to her. She leaned forward, reaching out to clasp Phoebe's hand. "My father will hear nothing of this until after he returns. By then the engagement will already have been called off."
"But will not people think it odd that you've become engaged whilst your father is out of the country?"
Ariel released Phoebe's cold hand then settled back in her seat. "No, for we shall put it about that we were engaged prior to his leaving."
"But your father will know that to be a lie."
"Yes, he will, but I will deal with that later." Frankly, she doubted her father would even care. After her ruination their relationship had deteriorated. Granted, they'd never been close, but her scandalous behavior had destroyed what little affection there had been.
"You have it all planned out, I see," Phoebe said with a concerned frown.
"I do."
Still her cousin shook her head, her lower lip captured between her teeth. "I do not like it, Ariel. How can you trust this Nathan Trevain? Why, he is a stranger to this land. We know nothing of him other than the fact that he is Davenport's heir. Why, he could be anybody."
Ariel rolled her eyes at such a fanciful notion. "Do not be ridiculous, Phoebe."
But Phoebe didn't look convinced.
"When do you plan on announcing your news?" she asked.
"At the Fitzherberts tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? But isn't that rather soon?"
Ariel shrugged. "Tomorrow or the next day, it makes no never mind. You shall see. 'Twill all work out." She leaned forward again and patted her cousin's hand.
But Cousin Phoebe held firm in her disapproval. She made it quite known, too. Oh, not to her husband. No, what they discussed would forever remain between the two women. But in private Phoebe made it abundantly clear that she thought Ariel a nodcock.
"But you make a beautiful nodcock, though," she said the next evening, adjusting the cameo that hung from a black satin ribbon tied around Ariel's neck. "Still, I'm half tempted to strangle you with this ribbon. Truly, Arie, I wish you had not agreed to this."
Ariel didn't comment. Why, when they'd discussed it a hundred times already? Instead she studied her appearance. Her cousin did have excellent taste, despite being two years her junior. But Phoebe had always had excellent taste, except, perhaps, in her friends: Ariel in particular. She knew her cousin took a great risk in bringing her to London, yet the kind-hearted Phoebe hadn't cared. For that Ariel would forever be grateful and if possible love her cousin even more.
"You were correct, Phoebe. The maroon is not as garish as I supposed it would be. You have an excellent eye."
The compliment didn't soften the frown on Phoebe's brow. Ariel suspected nothing short of finding a pot of gold could do that.
"Yes, well, you are fortunate to be of age to wear the color. It looks wonderful on you. The modiste did an excellent job fitting the gown to your figure."
And she had, though Ariel could wish it didn't fit quite so well. The tight-waisted garment had panniers atop the skirt. The two large loops of fabric made her waist appear even smaller. Ariel tugged at the neckline. A bit low, perhaps, but she'd been assured its dip was all the rage. So were the large, black bows that dotted the middle of her skirt. A large bow rested just below the neckline, too, something Ariel suspected was done on purpose to draw men's attention to her bosom. She almost shrugged. Phoebe's own dress was similar in style, only the color was more sedate: pale blue to match her cousin's beautiful eyes. Ariel reasoned that if she looked half as stylish as her cousin, she should be pleased, although it made no difference, for there was no one she wanted to impress.
Oh? asked a voice. Not even Mr. Trevain?
Certainly not, she answered.
Still, when the time came to go downstairs and then to get in the carriage, she felt so nervous she could barely stop her hands from shaking like old Lady Alberly's. It didn't help that Phoebe kept shooting her dark looks meant to remind her of the childhood governess they'd shared. She did a remarkable job of glowering in exactly the same manner as that good lady. The one blessing was that Reggie had elected to go to his club instead of accompanying them to the ball. The wise Reggie would have known something was up. Why Phoebe had decided not to tell him of their plan Ariel couldn't fathom, but the end result was that Reggie was blissfully unaware of the stir his wife and cousin by marriage would cause that evening. Ariel rather wished she could join him at White's. What she wouldn't give to be able to smoke away her troubles.
It took them a short amount of time to reach the Fitzherberts'. Ironically, the wait to descend from the carriage was longer than the drive. Ariel hadn't specifically been invited to the soiree. Phoebe had been the recipient of the coveted invitation. Ariel rather doubted their hostess had her in mind when she'd scribbled "and guest" upon the card.
The dancing had already begun, obviously, when they arrived, for she could hear the sound of violins playing inside, something energetic what with feet tapping the floor rhythmically. It was crowded inside but warm compared to outside. Those gentlemen not escorting ladies were off to one side of the door, smoking. The air was filled with the scent of burning tobacco. The younger ones made no secret of gawking at ladies who arrived. Ariel tried not to feel self-conscious as they eyed her up and down. One of them dipped his head toward his friend, the rest of them bursting into laughter. She blushed, knowing they spoke of her, and not in kind terms, judging by the snickers.
"Perhaps I should have insisted Reggie accompany us," Phoebe muttered, as they passed.
"No," Ariel answered quickly, lifting her chin and pretending to ignore them. "'Tis better he is not here. Once word spreads of my engagement, he will be furious at you for not telling him."
"Hmph. I suppose you are correct. I only hope word does not reach him at his club."
Ariel looked at her cousin's frowning face. "Why didn't you tell him?"
"I was too lily-livered."
Despite her nervousness, Ariel found herself smiling. "I believe Reggie will not disapprove as strongly as you believe. In fact, it might be well to have him in on the plan. He could play the role of my protector in the event Mr. Trevain has ulterior motives."
"Do you think he might?" Phoebe said quickly, her face instantly filling with concern.
Ariel cursed her tongue for a moment. "No, no, no. I was just jesting."
Liar, murmured that annoying little voice in her head.
And Ariel knew she was. She couldn't trust him or any man, not ever again. She'd learned that lesson the hard way. No, it was best to be on her guard and keep her fears to herself. She clutched her skirts as she made her way toward the line of people waiting to be announced, tilting her chin up for good measure. No man would ever get the better of her. Not again.
But her concern over her fears was forgotten as they stopped at the back of the line. Obviously word of her return to society had spread, for if she'd thought her reception the evening before had been cool, it was nothing compared to tonight's. Ladies actually turned their back on her, their lords raising quizzing glasses, brows arched beneath sausage-roll wigs. She felt like a condemned felon. And though she tried hard not to let their actions hurt her, standing there waiting to be announced was one of the hardest things she'd had to do in a long time. Things were made worse in that Phoebe shared in her humiliation. Poor, innocent Phoebe, who's face had paled, two bright spots of color burning near her ear
s. Her small hands were clenched in the folds of her gown, the sapphire necklace she wore sparkling nearly as brightly as her eyes.
"They should all be shot," she murmured furiously.
And instantly Ariel felt her humiliation fade. How could it not when she had such a champion by her side?
She reached for her cousin's hand, squeezed it, blue eyes meeting gold in a moment of commiseration. Though they were two years apart, Phoebe felt closer to her in age at the moment than ever before. Odd that Phoebe was younger and yet still considered to be Ariel's chaperone because of her marriage.
"You are the best of cousins, Phoebe."
"I am your only cousin."
"And a better one I could not ask for."
Blue eyes instantly softened, filled with sympathy. "If they knew you as I do, Ariel, they would not look at you thus."
No need to ask who they were, and best to look away from Phoebe before she did something embarrassing, like cry. She turned. And froze.
There he stood.
By the entrance to the ballroom he leaned nonchalantly against the wall. Lords and ladies eyed him, some in curiosity, for his scar was noticeable inside the ballroom. Others eyed him no doubt because of who he was, or more specifically, who he would one day be. She eyed him back, feeling pinned in his stare, like one of Reggie's butterfly experiments. For a moment she felt just as immobile, too. The line advanced. People still snickered and stared, but she just stood there.
"Ariel, move forward."
It was Phoebe's voice reaching her as if from a distance. Ariel blinked, forced herself to look away, turning to her cousin to smile—and she had no idea where she pulled that smile from—and to do as asked. What was it about the man that tugged at her so? Was it that she felt sorry for him? Or was it something more?
"Forgive me, Phoebe. Seeing Mr. Trevain there startled me."
Phoebe's eyes widened. "He is here?" she asked in a low voice.
"Aye. By the entrance to the ballroom." They both looked in that direction, Ariel stiffening when she realized he was no longer there. Instead he was making his way toward them. And as she watched him advance, Ariel was reminded of a panther. Once again that inner voice spoke. It fairly screamed danger. Heat fired through her body so instantly her heart pounded in her ears. She felt flushed of a sudden, and frightened.
"Lady Ariel D'Archer," he said, when he gained their side.
The couple in front of them turned, the gentleman eyeing Mr. Trevain up and down. When he got to the face, Ariel watched as his expression turned to one of revulsion before he quickly turned away. The sight angered her, for Mr. Trevain's face was not at all unpleasant. Certainly it was not perfect, but nobody was perfect.
Ah, but society adores perfection. ‘Tis why you are banned, Ariel, for you are not perfect anymore. They think your innocence has been taken, even though it has not.
She clenched her hands, staring at the man before her in sudden sympathy. Mr. Trevain either hadn't seen the look or else he ignored it. Either way Ariel was still miffed. "Mr. Trevain," she said, trying to distract him in the event he had seen the look. "May I present my cousin, Lady Sarrington?
Nathan bowed. Ariel felt further troubled by the look upon her cousin's face. Though she'd warned her friend, she'd hoped Phoebe would be better able to conceal her absorption with the defect.
"Lady Sarrington," he said, bowing, and though he hadn't been raised in British society, though he hadn't been immersed in its customs and culture, his manners were as impeccable as any of the men she'd seen here tonight. He dressed more elegantly, too. He wore a dark gray coat, a light yellow waistcoat and elegant beige silk breeches. Once again he wore no wig, but the lack of false hair only made him stand out more. She felt dowdy by comparison, like a vicar's daughter, and suddenly as naively tongue-tied as well. She resisted the urge to fiddle with the single gray curl that dangled from the back of her wig, especially when he turned to her.
"You look beautiful tonight, Ariel."
Once again, the couple turned, Ariel knowing they were probably scandalized by his use of her Christian name. But she didn't care. Suddenly she didn't care about anything. The way he looked at her with those wonderful eyes—gracious, it took her breath away. And the sound of her name rolling off his tongue. . .wicked.
Careful, Ariel, 'tis but an act.
Oh, but what an actor he was. And from nowhere came the wish that it wasn't an act, that a man could look at her as he looked at her and actually mean it. She bowed her head, so confused by the feelings coursing through her that she could barely think, much less converse. Thankfully, her cousin took matters into her own hands.
"I confess myself relieved to see you here tonight, sir." Ariel realized her cousin had gotten herself under control. Her face was filled with friendly interest as she said, "We could use some male company, I fear."
"Can you?" he asked, but it was to Ariel that he addressed the question. When once again she stared up at him, she saw a twinkle come into his eyes. "But of course, where else would I be but by my fiancée's side?"
Someone gasped; Ariel didn't know who. And with those simple words it was done. Word would now spread throughout the ballroom like fire. It would begin with a murmur here, a word there, the result being everyone would know she'd become engaged to Mr. Nathan Trevain, heir to the dukedom of Davenport, by night's end.
She could hardly wait.
"Take my arm," Trevain ordered. They stepped forward, Ariel realizing they were about to be announced. The ballroom spread out before them like a sea of moving color. People stood around the edge of the dance floor, eyeing them. She saw eyes widen. What an odd couple they must look, she thought. A misfit and a rake. Yet she held herself proudly and when their names were announced, stepped gracefully into the room, lifting her skirts elegantly as she moved. And as people stared her up and down, never was she more grateful for a man's presence. He may not have had a perfect face, but at that moment he was the most beautiful man she knew. His arm felt solid, his presence so commanding that for the first time since rejoining society she felt more in control.
"Shall we dance?" he asked her, just as he had the night before, his look a polite question.
"We should probably wait for Phoebe."
"Your cousin will not mind our dancing one dance."
Yes, Phoebe would, but he gave her no time to argue. Shooting Phoebe an apologetic glance, she allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor. He'd placed her hand on his arm, his ring catching the light. A serpentine, he'd called it, but she knew that was wrong. A serpentine was all green, like a snake, hence the name, whereas this stone had those spots of red in it. Like the skin of a poisonous snake or blood.
She stiffened. That was it! A bloodstone. That was what the gem was called. She felt sure of it, even thought about telling him, but he spun her around to face him, making her momentarily breathless. The dance was already in progress, but he didn't seem to care. He led her into position, the feel of his hand holding hers more pleasurable than she would have liked. With his body so near she could feel the heat radiate off it, her thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. She looked up at him. 'Twas no country dance. This was a French dance, one that kept them close together, at times circling like birds in a mating ritual. Mating ritual. What an odd thought.
Gracious, but she had a lot of odd thoughts about him. Was it his wickedly handsome looks? Or was it the way he seemed only to have eyes for her? Though they were occasionally separated, his gaze never left her own. She told herself to concentrate, told herself that appearing moonstruck with the man did her reputation no good. Then again, what harm in letting society think theirs was a love match?
A love match?
She stiffened. What a silly notion. As if they acted in love. She forced herself to look away, just to prove to herself that she could, forced herself to think of something to say, something mundane.
"Did you have a pleasant ride over?" She nearly cursed. What a ninny. There was mundane,
and there was mundane.
He appeared amused by her question. "Indeed I did, thank you for asking."
What was it her governess had often said? When conversing with a man, one should stick to his health and the weather. Well, he looked perfectly healthy. She shivered: too much so. And the weather seemed like a silly topic.
"Your ring is a bloodstone," she blurted, at a loss as to what else to say.
His gaze suddenly intensified. Ariel felt sweat bead upon her lip.
"Is it?" he asked, black brows raised.
"Indeed."
"And how do you know that?"
She had to wait for them to come together again, the time that it took for him to return to her side only reinforcing Ariel's nervousness. "I've studied such things."
"Have you?" he asked. "While in the country?"
She nodded, feeling rather proud of her education, and suddenly anxious to show it off. "Yes. A bloodstone is a chalcedony, also known by another name, though what that name is escapes me at the moment. It is said that the stone has the power to turn the sun blood-red, to cause thunder, lightning and rain to hail down. Is that not amusing?"
He didn't look amused. He looked rather perturbed. They moved apart again, Ariel wondering if he was the sort of man who didn't like women to be educated. Well, fie on him if he didn't. Women were every bit as smart as men, although men much preferred to think the opposite, but that only showed their ignorance.
When they came back together, she expected him to say something derogatory. Instead he merely smiled down at her. "Your knowledge amazes me," he surprised her by saying. "Tell me, what other things have you learned?"
She shrugged, unaccountably wanting to impress him. "Human anatomy. Greek mythology. Principals of general carriage mechanics. Things of that nature." Not to mention following the war closely, but she didn't think it wise to mention the recent hostilities between their two countries.
"Human anatomy?" he queried with an amused smile.
Something nagged at the back of her mind, something about what she'd just said. She put the thought away for later. "Indeed. A most interesting subject, human anatomy." Especially the part about human reproduction. Her father's library was most complete.
Enchanted by Your Kisses Page 5
