Rogue in Red Velvet

by Lynne Connolly

  Connie remained apprehensive that Alex would arrive but he did not and for that, she had to be grateful. He must have informed Julius that she’d left him so precipitately.

  They didn’t speak of him until they were in the carriage on the short journey back to Brook Street, a street Mrs. Stobart had heard was their private address with incredulity. She had heard, her great friend had said, that it was a street for musicians and artists and wealthy tradesmen.

  “And politicians and earls,” Julius had added smoothly. “I liked the house, so I took it. It has come into fashion recently.” The gentle reminder that the Vernons set fashion, instead of following it, didn’t fall on deaf ears.

  Once in the carriage, Helena chuckled. “Brook Street is for the inferior sort, is it? She has a provincial turn of mind, does she not?”

  “She can’t help it.” Connie subsided back into the comfortable squabs with a sigh. “Yes she can. But her daughter is so young. Too young for Jasper Dankworth.”

  “I made a point of leaving invitations for the ball, at the behest of Lady Downholland and I will ensure Dankworth gains admittance.” While he kept his perfect poise, Julius dropped the superior manner. “I’ve told Alex to stay away from you. It’s clear he distressed you in some way. He gave his word he would not visit unless invited.”

  Connie twisted her hands in her lap. “He did something I asked him not to do.” Neither Julius or Helena had asked but she explained anyway. “He took the matter into his own hands. He did it without consulting me, or telling me what he planned and I specifically made him promise not to do that.”

  “Then I fear you have to be angry with me, also. Because I knew,” Julius said.

  Connie lost her temper all over again. “But it’s my life, my fate. Don’t you think I have some right to know what’s happening?”

  Helena put her hand over Connie’s.

  Connie shook it off. “Stop the carriage.”

  “So you can walk off? Connie, you’ll find yourself abducted again. You really must control yourself.” Julius met her gaze.

  She flinched at the hard expression in his eyes.

  “You must not run off like this. You will not see Alex again until you wish it.”

  She hadn’t realized how the news would make her feel until tears misted her eyes.

  Helena pressed a handkerchief into her hands.

  “I don’t know what I want any more. I want my life and I want Alex. Can’t I have both?” Connie mopped her streaming eyes. “I’m so sorry. I don’t behave like a watering pot, truly I don’t.”

  “Women in love often behave out of character.” Julius exchanged a sparkling glance with his sister.

  The realization hit Connie with a jolt the like of which she hadn’t experienced before. A bolt of lightning from a clear sky. “I’m in love?” She bit her lip, the sting of pain forcing her concentration. “What do I do now?”

  It made sense. When she saw something she wanted to share, she immediately thought of Alex. The thrill she experienced in his arms was like nothing she’d ever known before, or imagined. It would hurt so much to separate, that she didn’t know if she would survive the experience. If she didn’t make a stand now, he might protect her into screaming frustration.

  “You wait on events.” Julius chuckled. “I believe my cousin is as deeply in love with you. I’ve never seen him behave in this way before. He’s never cared about anyone enough to worry like this. After you left him in the park he was frantic but only because he feared for you. We sent for the carriage.”

  The coachman drew up outside the house in Brook Street with scarcely a disturbance. The disturbance inside Connie was enough to make her stomach churn and her limbs weak. She was in love?

  She was in love.

  Chapter 18

  Alex stayed away.

  Just as she expected, Connie missed him, more than she’d imagined. There were only two days and most of another day until the ball at Kirkburton House on Friday night, but she yearned to see him, to touch him. To kiss him. She wasn’t even sure he’d come to the ball.

  The day before the ball she received a visit from the Downhollands. Lord Downholland greeted her with a jutting chin and Lady Downholland with her usual, friendly demeanor.

  “We wished to consult you on a matter,” Lord Downholland began, “and to that end, we’ve requested that Lord Winterton attends you.”

  As if on cue, the door opened on a tap and Julius entered. The relative plainness of his clothes told Connie he’d been on business in the City.

  He greeted them and they made small talk while the maid brought in a tray of tea and settled it at a table at Connie’s elbow. Strange how many of the rituals of her life remained the same. Tea in the afternoon, for instance. True, the china and even the tea might be finer but the process was comfortingly the same. She made the tea and poured it out, Julius helping to offer it and the tiny cakes to their guests, dispensing with the need for a maid.

  She liked the Downhollands enormously and disliked the expression of gravity that she discerned on both their countenances. It became clear when his lordship put down his empty dish and began to speak and, as usual, he spoke as if he were addressing a public meeting.

  “As you know, Connie, my wife and I are childless and we have few relatives. It is fortunate that the estate does not have an entail associated with it, so I may leave the holdings where I will. I am most anxious that whoever inherits the property takes good care of it.”

  He cleared his throat and glanced at Julius. “Lord Ripley visited me yesterday and presented me with a number of notes that Jasper Dankworth signed over to him.” He’d said he would. It was doing the deed without consulting her that had upset her, not his intention, so she’d let his actions pass.

  “I have also received reports from other areas that claim a similar lack of regard for personal debts. I can no longer ignore the evidence and truthfully, that is the reason we are paying this visit today.” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I have taken steps to remove Jasper Dankworth as my heir and to withdraw my petition for him to inherit the title when I am gone. I am regretful but if I bestow the estate and title on him, he will fritter away the first and bring the second into disrepute. Better the title dies with me.” He harrumphed and tugged the edges of his good country coat.

  Connie smoothed hands suddenly gone clammy down the silk of her gown. “Are you enquiring for other relatives, perhaps more distant?”

  His lordship shook his head regretfully. “I no longer have an interest in seeking out someone I do not know to inherit the estate I have worked so hard for. But there is a female who has proved her worth over the years, one who will treasure the heritage. You.”

  She heard her gasp at if from a distance but her head was swimming too distractingly for her to take much heed of it. She absently noticed that her fingers were shaking. She had expected the Downhollands to remove Jasper from the will but not to hand that fortune over to her. “I am but your godchild, sir, not a blood relative. I hope I never presumed on that relationship, even though you’ve always treated me with kindness.”

  “I know you didn’t. But you have proved yourself constant over the years. You suffered a marriage that proved less than successful with dignity.”

  Connie felt Julius’s perceptive gaze but didn’t look in his direction. She hadn’t discussed her first marriage and he was probably wondering.

  “We can imagine nobody better to administer our estate and become our heir. We only stopped to inform you of our intentions and obtain your approval before we leave to finalize the business with my man of affairs. Although I may leave the estate where I wish, I do not wish to burden you with something you do not want.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Connie murmured, stunned by the information, her mind dizzyingly spinning around the concept. She hadn’t thought the Downhollands would take this step. Maybe insist that Jasper reform, even rusticate him but not cut him off so finally. “Of course, I’m de
eply honored but—”

  Julius said, “I suggest you leave Lady Downholland here, my lord, while you take care of business. It might help Connie to discuss the matter with her.”

  “Excellent idea.” Lord Downholland got to his feet. “I’ll collect you on my way back from the solicitor’s office, my lady.”

  Lady Downholland agreed, smiling. Everyone was smiling except Connie. That made her an heiress. One with responsibilities.

  The next day, as Connie, still amazed by her change in fortune, was getting ready to leave for the ball, a nosegay arrived for her. It was a mixture of lilacs and lavender, with sprigs of tiny white blossoms and ferns, all wrapped in foil and put into a gold holder studded with amethysts. There was even room at the base of the container for a small vial of water, enough to keep the blossoms fresh for the evening.

  Connie grinned. It was just as if someone had told the sender what she’d be wearing. Which, of course, they must have done. Because she wore a gown of ivory and lilac, the base color ivory, with a pattern of vines, grapes and here and there a small, colorful bird adding to the effect. The birds had brilliants for eyes but they were sprinkled randomly over the pattern, so when she moved, she glittered. A new amethyst necklace, bracelet and hair ornament made a modest parure but a pretty one. She had insisted on paying for her ensemble this time. She would stand before society tonight as her own woman with her own estate and expectations. They could snub her or accept her on those terms.

  She took the flowers from her maid and buried her nose in them. Only to draw back with a sharp, “Ouch! These flowers are hard!”

  Nestled in their depths was a brooch. Amethyst, surrounded by diamonds, glittering with the ferocity of the brilliant cut. The amethyst was magnificent, too, a deep, rich purple that meant it was a very fine stone indeed.

  “Oh, Mrs. Rattigan, ma’am.” Saxton’s awed tones brought her back to the present. There was no note with the flowers, merely a card, one of Alex’s embossed calling cards. Not even his initials scrawled carelessly at the bottom.

  If she didn’t wear it, he’d think she’d rejected him. If she wore it, then what? And if he’d told other people about it, they’d be looking for it, too. It could be a family piece. She turned it over. No, she didn’t think so. It was too new, the gold gleaming, no sign of wear that would come with an older piece. She couldn’t even say it wouldn’t go with her dress, because it did, superbly.

  Sighing, she gave in and let Saxton pin the brooch to the center of her neckline, where her cleavage swelled above the tight stays. She flicked the lace half over it, so it would flash and tease, rather than blaze. The diamonds on it outshone anything Connie owned.

  At least, as the Dankworth heir, she could pay the Wintertons for the clothes. Or rather, Alex. When Helena admitted he’d paid for them, she’d asked Connie not to think too badly of him. For all the indignation Connie could muster, now her temper had subsided, she couldn’t. Everything he’d done, everything had been for her. Which was the problem. She didn’t want to be cared for so much that she never had to think for herself. To be an object, rather than doing.

  Even though she’d powdered her hair tonight Connie looked well enough. Saxton had used a very pale grey-blue shade that suited her creamy coloring much better than stark white, which tended to make her appear sallow and left a few curls nestled teasingly against her neck.

  She put on her long evening gloves and picked up the flowers and her fan. Flicking it open, she held it in front of her face as if flirting with an imaginary admirer. Yes.

  She’d allowed Saxton to apply a tiny patch just above the corner of her left eye. She laughed at the effect, saucy and flirtatious. Clothes should never be deadly serious, Julius had told her and she found him proved right. Julius always had something on his person, a snuffbox with an odd design, something unusual in the embroidery of his waistcoats, or even just a quizzing glass that would make the observer smile.

  Perhaps that was her problem. She took life too seriously. Until recently, she’d had no reason not to.

  She’d smiled a lot more recently and that was despite the worry that had kept her awake at night. Life just seemed to have gone up a gear, like a cog moving to a larger cog, the same but more.

  She was smiling when she went downstairs and met Helena in her ballroom glory. Helena wore blue, the moiré silk rippling over elegantly embroidered white silk and a sapphire and diamond parure.

  Connie exclaimed, “Goodness, looking at those for too long could blind someone.”

  Helena laughed. “Julius bought them for me.”

  “A small apology,” her brother remarked, coming out of the book room at the back of the house and joining them

  His clothes never ceased to astound Connie. Tonight was no exception but he didn’t linger to let her get more than an impression of rich, dark blue, enriched with crimson and rubies, before he led the way to the carriage.

  Kirkburton House was, Julius told her, a remnant of an earlier time when the great London houses of the rich had lined the Thames. Few remained, the wealthy moving out to smaller houses near the park. Kirkburton had an elegant enfilade of staterooms and these were all open tonight.

  Night had not yet fallen but once it did the elegant torchères set in holders by the double doors at the front and at intervals around the courtyard would be lit, flooding the area with golden light. Connie stepped out, awed by the great house, light streaming on to the flagstones of the courtyard, liveried footmen standing by every door and wondering if she could bear the thrill of it, or would die of excitement well before the ball opened at eight.

  They would serve supper at eleven and the ball would end in the early hours of the morning. And yet most of the attendees would be up and attending church in the morning, probably at one of the fashionable churches, St George’s or St. Martin’s, although many people tended to use the bottom-achingly long sermons as a chance to catch up on their sleep. One vicar had asked a gentleman in a pew near the front to stop snoring, for fear he would wake the king. Or so Julius had told her and Connie wanted to believe the story, so she did.

  Julius’s parents greeted them, with Lord and Lady Downholland. Connie curtseyed to the formidable Duke and Duchess of Kirkburton, the duke a full-figured gentleman, the tiny duchess’s waist so nipped-in Connie thought she could circle it with her hands. Not that she’d dream of doing such a thing.

  She dropped a curtsey to Lady Lucinda, Julius’s sister, younger than him by a good twelve years. She’d met pretty, lively Lady Lucinda before and enjoyed her company immensely. She embraced her godparents fondly, ignoring the duchess’s indignant sniff. At least the lady didn’t cut her again.

  They went up to the drawing room, where the presence of at least thirty guests momentarily nonplussed her. She’d had no idea dinner would be so grand. Since this was Kirkburton House, they went in by rank, so although Connie got her first sight of Alex for days, she couldn’t talk to him. Women surrounded him, cooing and batting their eyes and Alex looked deeply bored, at least he did to Connie’s prejudiced eyes.

  Why fight it? She loved him. She couldn’t hide from that simple fact.

  They exchanged one swift look and he smiled and bowed and even from across the room, his expression softened, the lines around his mouth easing. He wore green figured velvet, with a waistcoat embroidered with purple and green. Of course, he would. It was like a message, the way they complimented each other, his clothes echoing hers but not too close for anyone to remark on it.

  She wanted to cross the room to him there and then, the reason for her anger with him, if not forgotten, then forgiven. Let the world go hang, let the ball go, too. She’d go with him now, if he asked her.

  He turned away and addressed a woman to his left. He was seemingly uncaring of her presence. Perhaps the brooch was a farewell gift. Perhaps he didn’t want her any longer.

  Alex couldn’t look at Connie any longer. If he did, he’d cross the room and drag her out of it. She looked beautiful,
ethereal, like she’d stepped out of a portrait, crisp and new. The way she looked at him, her heart in her eyes, killed him. Would she reject him tonight? But no, she carried his flowers. And the glint when she moved indicated the presence of his brooch.

  She wouldn’t reject him. At least she’d talk to him but he didn’t know what else she’d do. Thinking about her was driving him mad. Last night he’d rolled over in bed, reaching for her and woken up when all he’d found was a cold pillow.

  He wanted her so badly he couldn’t think properly. Every time he set his mind to his plans for tonight or tomorrow, thoughts of Connie stopped him cold, hardened his cock and turned his mind into one aching mess of need. Eventually, he’d given up.

  Turning his attention to the nearest person, he found Louisa Stobart gazing up at him with eyes as big as guineas. “You’re enjoying the evening?” he asked.

  “Yes indeed, sir, my lord. I’m surprised not to find my fiancé here.”

  “I believe he’s attending the ball tonight.” As he said the words, Dankworth strode through the door, like the proverbial bad penny. He wore crimson. Apt, or maybe black would have worked better. He just didn’t know it yet.

  Julius had informed Alex of the change in Connie’s fortunes. Coldness crept into his veins when he realized the news would infuriate Dankworth, perhaps make him desperate enough to make another play for her, although if he came too close to Connie, Alex would kill him.

  For once Alex was glad of the women who had homed in on him, one of the unattached men in the room, because Dankworth couldn’t get near him, especially when Miss Stobart slipped away to stand by his side. Dankworth greeted his godparents, who gave him a civilly cool reception and then the Kirkburtons.

  Alex guessed why Jasper Dankworth was present at dinner. Dankworth must see it as an advance in his societal ambitions but he would discover exactly the opposite.