The music started and, in spite of Lady Darnley’s assurances that only the best dancing master had been procured for her, he quickly found that Olivia did, indeed, not dance well.
Exasperated, he did his best to hold his tongue and temper and aided his young partner as best he could. At last the music ended and Olivia made to bolt like a rabbit from the floor.
“Lady Olivia, there is no hurry to return to your mama who is quite comfortable with the notion of us being dancing partners.” Lucius kept a light hand at her elbow. “Do you think me such an ogre that you must return to her so quickly?”
“Oh, n-no, m-my Lord,” exclaimed Olivia. “Indeed, n-not. It is just that m-mama w-wants me to m-make an impression a-and I-I’m afraid I’m t-too s-stupid to impress anyone.”
“Nonsense, my child!” exclaimed Lucius, disliking himself for what he was about to do. “As your mama quite rightly said, we are old friends, and as such I wonder perhaps if you can help me.”
“In what way, my Lord?” Surprised at his request, Olivia’s stutter disappeared completely.
He looked down at her, noticing how unexceptional a blue her eyes were in comparison to Emmaline’s, how pale her complexion. There was nothing robust in her character, no conviction in her voice.
Lucius smiled comfortingly and patted Olivia’s hand. “I noticed your mama a little while ago talking to a gentleman. Who might he be?”
“Oh, that was my cousin, Peregrine,” Olivia said dismissively. “He is the most f-frightful bore. All he can talk about is b-boxing and g-gaming and such, and – oh!” Her free hand flew to her cheek which was now crimson. “Oh, I d-do beg your pardon, my Lord! I would not w-want you to think I think you a b-bore f-for, as a g-gentleman yourself, those m-must be p-pastimes which you pursue!”
“Calm yourself, Lady Olivia,” Lucius murmured although his mind was racing. How could it be that he had been unaware of a familial connection between Styles and Lady Darnley? “I assure you there are times when I find them exceedingly boring. But do tell me more about your cousin.”
Olivia’s eyes grew round and she nodded her head in assent.
“It is a complicated and not very close connection,” she confided. “We are not related by blood. Sir Peregrine is my papa’s nephew-in-law through my uncle’s second marriage. Mama and I do not see Peregrine very often.”
Having garnered the nugget of information that for now satisfied his curiosity, Lucius patted Olivia’s hand and returned her to her mama.
He bowed to Lady Darnley and made his way around the floor searching for Lady Jersey. When he saw her, he caught her eye and stopped. She casually made her way towards him.
“Very prettily done, Lucius,” she said. “Rosemary is positively glowing. The richest man in the room stood up with her daughter. She will not stop crowing about that, I can tell you.”
“And will likely croak when I escort Miss Devereux to the floor for the first waltz.”
“Oh, my!” Lady Jersey’s right eyebrow twitched with mild alarm. “A little cruel, do you not think?”
“A means to an end, nothing more.”
“If you intend to play games, Lucius, be sure to have a trump card,” Lady Jersey warned.. “I think you have Rosemary half convinced that you are about to offer for Olivia.”
“She will be sadly mistaken.” Lucius clenched his jaw. “When I marry my bride will be of my own choosing. Tell me quickly, what do you know of Rosemary’s nephew, Peregrine?”
Lady Jersey narrowed her fine eyes and gave him a calculating look.
“My advice is to stay away from him. You know he is trouble and is only at Almack’s because of Rosemary. I regret already having allowed him vouchers and nearly had him turned away this evening for his inappropriate dress.”
“Do you know his direction?”
“No. And you, my friend, do not want to know it either.” Lady Jersey snapped her fan shut, fluttered her eyelashes at him and walked away.
Lucius was joined by Juliana and Beamish with whom he made idle conversation, while his apprehension that Sir Richard had not yet returned Emmaline to her party grew.
Dammit.
Had she totally bewitched him?
Beautiful, yes. Spirited, possibly too much. Mysterious, without a doubt. Enamoured of him? Not at all.
In fact, as he thought of her, he realized she gave every indication of wanting to avoid him. His glance, his touch, his conversation. And yet she could be kind. He had seen it in the way she had spoken to her old retainer. What was his name? Giles. Yes, Giles who had rheumatism and for whom Emmaline obviously cared.
“Lucius, are you day dreaming?” Juliana’s voice broke through his reverie. “It will soon be time for the first waltz.”
Lucius gave himself a mental shake. “Merely wool gathering, my dear,” he said.
He surveyed the dance floor and the crowd of people around it, but relaxed a little on seeing Emmaline weaving her way towards them. Stonehouse was close behind her and from the look on his face obviously enamoured.
That was an idea Lucius would not contemplate. His jaw clenched as he acknowledged the man who so reluctantly gave up his partner.
Without any hesitation he took Emmaline’s hand. Her fingers were cool and slim beneath his, yet heat sizzled along his arm as surely as night turned to day. Turning to look at her he saw the shocked expression in her blue eyes. Was it possible that she experienced the same shock as did he? He led her onto the dance floor and turned her to face him.
Her sooty lashes swept her cheeks as she looked down, refusing to meet his eyes. He felt her stiffen as he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her very gently a little closer to him.
“I won’t bite, Miss Devereux,” he said as he took her right hand in his left.
“Will you not, my Lord?” Emmaline now looked up at him as he steered her skilfully between two other couples.
“You, never. But I crave an indulgence of you,” he said as he spun her into the first corner.
“And what might that be?”
She was light in his arms and light on her feet and they may well have been dancing partners for ever so easy was their progression around the floor.
“Should Sir Peregrine Styles seek to dance with you, please refuse him.”
“Why should I?”
Lucius spun her through a corner again.
“The man is always in Dunn territory and reputed to be a thief with as yet no evidence against him. He’s gambler and sore loser, a drunkard and womanizer and not at all the sort of person you should associate with, even for as little as one dance.”
Emmaline inclined her head, although her mind raced. Was his warning out of care for her, or plain dislike of Sir Peregrine Styles?
“As you have made your request so prettily, my Lord, I shall, of course, take heed,” she said. She leaned back against his arm so that she could look up at him.
“Of course,” he repeated. His grey eyes bored into her blue ones. “I doubt there is anything as simple as ‘of course’ where you are concerned.”
“You do me wrong, my Lord.” Emmaline tore her eyes away from his and looked down again. “I am but a green country girl taking the advice of her elder and better.”
Lucius choked down a laugh as he spun her again.
“You are definitely a minx,” he said softly.
The strains of the Viennese waltz died away. He released her from the circle of his arm, but continued to hold her hand.
He bowed.
She curtsied.
And time stood still as he led her from the floor.
CHAPTER 5
Their exit from the dance floor did not go unnoticed.
From the security of a screen of potted plants and further shielded by the crowds, Sir Peregrine Styles watched with flint hard eyes as Lucius and his partner rejoined their party.
That’s right, Lucius, shepherd your little flock together, Peregrine thought. A grim smile twisted his lips. Oh, how well he knew the
man.
Peregrine pulled back from his observation post and made his way to the staircase. He and Lucius, Earl of Avondale first met while at Oxford. He envied Lucius with every fibre of his being.
His home. His family, the older sister a stuffy fusspot and the younger fresh faced and feisty. The Clifton girl did not appeal to him, but he would have taken her if she had given him the time of day. For all their differences they were a close knit family, nothing at all like his own.
Avondale’s friends liked and respected him and Peregrine could never understand why Lucius allowed that chubby, dandified Beamish to hang on his coat tails.
But it was Avondale’s wealth which Peregrine envied the most and aspired to relieve him of at every opportunity.
He had once bamboozled Avondale into putting up a splendid thoroughbred racehorse as a wager, and won it. But, having no funds for keeping such an expensive prize, relented and allowed Avondale to win it back.
Such was his skill at sleight of hand few realized he cheated and considered Peregrine to have Lady Luck firmly in his pocket until, tempted by avarice he overplayed his hand. After watching him win a small fortune in a very few games, Avondale became suspicious and refused to join any table at which Peregrine played.
And then there was the girl.
How deliciously fitting that little exercise had been.
Avondale had wooed and won the girl before Peregrine met her at a country house party. The ring on her finger meant nothing to him. The slight flicker in her expression as she caught his eye did.
At the earliest opportunity he had separated her from the other guests on the pretext of showing her an interesting piece of statuary in the garden. The evening had been cool with a light breeze coming off the lake and, ever playing the gentleman, he removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. In the process, he had slid his finger against the soft skin on the inside of her wrist, saw when the spark in her eyes flared into flames of an unspeakable hunger that matched his. Satisfied, he had withdrawn, knowing that the future Lady Clifton would come to him whenever he called.
How easy it had been to take from Lucius the things he treasured most.
Peregrine looked around as he reached the head of the stairs. It wasn’t women he was after tonight, whatever their appetites. It was money.
Rosemary had been singularly unhelpful, a situation he would have to attend to very soon. For now he wandered the tables much as Lucius had done, watching the gambling in progress, noticing who was winning and who was losing.
A shout of laughter caught his attention and he made his way towards a table where two young bucks, not yet too far gone in their cups, were slapping each other heartily on the back and congratulating each other on their winnings.
They lurched to their feet and Peregrine followed them from the room. From there it was easy to join them, to congratulate them and slip them the name of a gaming hell where he would be happy to help them build on their obvious skills.
“It’s an exclusive address, gentlemen,” he said. “Your entry will be assured if you are in my company. Should we go?”
A brief discussion ensued before the young bucks agreed. Smiling with genuine pleasure now, Peregrine steered them out of Almack’s front door into the night.
***
Emmaline reached the sanctuary of her boudoir to find Annie asleep in the chair beside the fire.
“Oh, Miss Em, I’m so sorry.” Annie rubbed her eyes as she quickly got to her feet. “I only meant to sit and wait for you.”
“Thank you, Annie, but there was no need. You may go to your own bed now.”
Annie said good night and left the room.
Emmaline dropped her reticule on the chair so recently vacated by her maid and stood motionless in front of the fire. The heat from the hearth only served to increase the heat overwhelming her. It heightened the sensitivity of every single nerve and fibre until she was as taught as a bowstring. Her skin burned as if every inch of it were aflame.
She reached up and grasped the mantle for support while she fought the sensations that coursed through her. Her mind whirled, her blood pounded. Her whole body tingled with anticipation.
How could she be so stupid? She, who had remained cool and calm under fire, had aided the wounded and covered the dead, now reduced to a quivering mess by the thought of one man.
How could he affect her this way? She peeled off her gloves and threw them across the chair back and kicked off her kid slippers, not caring where they landed. She carefully removed her pearl earrings and lovingly replaced them in their blue velvet box, all the while wishing her mama could help her.
She knew Maria Teresa Torres would have held her hand, smoothed her hair with a tender touch and soothed her aching heart with gentle words of wisdom.
One minute as radiant as fire when something pleased her, the next as cold as ice if crossed or displeased, with Emmaline her mother was ever patient and loving. But Maria Teresa was long gone, taken by a fever when Emmaline was just six years old.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she dashed them away with the back of her hand. She must be tired and over-wrought, she thought. Thinking of her mother usually made her smile, but not tonight.
She paced her room, thinking about Lucius and pondering the problem of what to do in the morning when the riding party arrived. How could she avoid Lucius without appearing rude? She had hoped to leave Almack’s in the company of Countess Esterhazy, telling Juliana that she felt a little fevered and should go home.
“You silly booby!” Juliana had exclaimed. “As if we would not be willing to take you home!”
She had immediately summoned Lucius and in a very short time been delivered to her home. Lucius had accompanied her to her front door and insisted that if she still felt unwell in the morning she must rest rather than ride, but how could she maintain a sickness that did not exist?
She threw herself on to her bed, pounding her pillows with closed fists, wishing she was back in her grandfather’s house in Devon. She crawled beneath the covers but tossed and turned, pulled the sheets up to her chin one moment and pushed them away when she became hot again.
Her body vibrated with this new and unknown sensation. Her nipples hardened and her breasts ached. Heat pooled in her lower belly. She pressed her legs together to quell the mounting tension she felt at the apex of her thighs, moaned in to her pillow with the pleasure and pain of it. All she could think of was Lucius.
His long, strong body. The hollow under his shoulder where, she was sure, her head would fit as neatly as a bird in a nest.
She could see the dark lock of hair that insisted on falling across his forehead, the dark wings of his eyebrows, the sheen of his pewter grey eyes. She pulled her hair away from her neck and instantly imagined his lips tracing kisses down it.
“No!” She sat bolt upright in bed and dropped her head into her hands. “No. This cannot be.”
Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, sobs pulled at her throat but at last her breathing steadied and became even. She felt exhausted but snuggled down into her sheets again, settled her head on her pillow and fell into a troubled sleep.
***
It seemed as though she had barely closed her eyes when Annie woke her with her morning hot chocolate. Emmaline sat up in bed and stretched.
“It’s a lovely morning, Miss.” Annie opened the curtains and, as if in agreement with her maid, sunshine streamed through the window. “Giles tells me his Lordship is taking you riding today. Which of your habits should I lay out for you?”
“I don’t care. Choose something for me.”
Annie sent a sharp glance her way. “Don’t look as if you slept well, Miss, if you don’t mind me saying.”
Emmaline turned back the covers and swung her legs over the side if the bed.
“I didn’t.”
“Anything I can help you with, Miss?” Annie’s voice was full of concern.
Emmaline shook her head. “No-one can help me, Annie, bu
t thank you for asking.”
Going to her dressing table, Emmaline picked up her brush and began to draw it through her sleep tangled hair. Her reflection in the mirror showed dark circles under her eyes and pallor under her natural tan. This would not do. Lucius’ perceptive eye would recognize the turmoil she was in, if not the reason for it.
Annie helped her into a periwinkle blue kerseymere riding habit with frogging at the collar and cuffs. It showed off her trim figure and shapely legs a little more than Emmaline could have wished, but she complimented Annie on her taste. The maid glowed with the slight praise and fussed over Emmaline’s hair until she had it pinned neatly in place.
“There, Miss, by the time you have some bread and butter and tea you’ll be right as nine pence again.”
“Thank you, Annie, I am sure you are right.” Getting to her feet, Emmaline smoothed the skirt of the habit over her hips.
Dealing with Annie was one thing. Now she had to deal with her aunt. She walked along the landing and went down the stairs to join Mrs. Babbidge in the breakfast room where she knew she would face a barrage of questions.
“And how was your evening, Em?” Mrs. Babbidge crossed her arms across her ample waist. “You made an impression, I’ll be bound.”
“I don’t know about that, Aunt, but it was very exciting.”
“You’re looking a mite peeky this morning. A little too exciting perhaps?”
Giles came quietly in to the room and placed a plate of hot bread in front of Emmaline. He poured tea for her and left as silently as he had come. Emmaline, aware of Mrs. Babbidge’s penetrating gaze, added a little sugar and milk to her tea and slowly stirred it. There was nothing for it, she would have to confess.
“Yes, indeed, Aunt. So much so that I felt fevered and requested to be brought home early.”
“And spoil his Lordship’s party?” Mrs. Babbidge looked at her disapprovingly.
“He was so kind in procuring the vouchers, and Juliana and Mr. Beamish were enjoying themselves so much, I did not want to break up their party but I felt most unwell.”
His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 5
