Though Witherson had been stopped and dealt with, the rumors of a possible affair between Sarah and Witherson years ago still followed her. Rayne had, of course, forgiven his wife, even though he was still a bit angry with her for having attempted to keep Miri away from her true love, Lord Will Davenport, the Earl of Blackthorne.
Though the scandal had begun to die down recently, word of their mother’s illness might stir them up again, especially if those in the highest reaches of Society thought that the family was not doing right by the dowager Lady Chilton. And especially because their mother was close friends with Lady Jersey and several other leading ladies of the ton.
Dory herself was an embarrassment as well. Unwed and with no prospects, she had just essentially been thrown over by Harry, not to mention that Dory had been seen fleeing balls and speculation was growing that she was either ill or had a terrible secret of her own that she wished to hide.
Sarah probably suspected the latter and was worried that if Dory was hiding something – which, of course, she was – that could stir up the whispers even more now than before. Thus, it would be better for everyone, but especially Sarah, to remove Dory from London. And this was a perfect way to accomplish that.
“I do want what is best for Mama,” Dory began, choosing her words carefully, her over-sweet tea long since abandoned in front of her. “But we don’t know what that is just yet. Until Dr. Hastings…”
Dory never finished that thought because Sarah cut her off before she could.
“Dr. Hastings will send Mama to the country immediately. I am sure of it. And one of us must be there to oversee her care. You, of course, are the logical choice, for it isn’t as if you have any prospects and quite possibly never will.” Sarah’s words, so carelessly spoken were like a knife to Dory’s heart for they gave voice to all of her worst fears for her future. “I am certain Frost, and everyone really, would rest easier knowing that one of us was caring for her.”
Sarah couldn’t possibly know how much her words hurt or she would not have said them. Probably, anyway. But they had been spoken and they could not be taken back. Rather, they were a stark reminder to Dory regarding what her future looked like. For all of her pretty words moments ago about asking what Dory wanted, once more, Sarah was falling back into old habits.
She simply assumed she knew what Dory wanted. Or rather, what Dory would accept without complaint. Because it was expected and would make Sarah’s fragile life with her husband a little easier.
Dory would be forced to accept a future alone with an ailing mother. A future without Jeremy.
Earlier, Dory had wondered if she would be able to return to Dionysus this evening dressed as Lady Peacock. This would be the first time she would see Jeremy since the night she had given him her body. A part of her wasn’t certain she would be strong enough to face rejection if he said that he didn’t want her any longer. That one night with her had been enough for him. Now, however, she knew she had to go back, even if Jeremy had changed his mind about being with her.
She needed to see him again. She needed to live out this fantasy for as long as possible, even if that was only one more night.
More than that, Dory was angry that others were once more making decisions regarding her life for her. They were taking away her choices and dictating what she would and would not do. Who she should and should not be.
No. She wasn’t just angry. She was furious and ready to lash out!
How dare Sarah, who had fought like mad for a future with the man she loved, tell Dory that she could do without love and passion, and that she should be satisfied with a life caring for their mother? Sarah, whom Frost had always given leave to do as she pleased, could never understand what it was like for Dory, a woman who had never been fawned over by Society, to constantly be forced to sit amongst the wallflowers and pray that someone took notice of her.
It was all well and good for Sarah, who had both found and fought for her Prince Charming, to tell Dory that she had to settle for what she could get.
Well, Dory was not about to settle – for anything – and it infuriated her that even her own family assumed she should accept that sort of future and be content with it.
And at present? Dory’s future suddenly looked very bleak and if she did not indulge in pleasurable fantasy now? Then it was unlikely she ever would again.
Chapter Fourteen
Would Dory be here this evening? As the clock ticked closer to midnight, Jeremy wasn’t certain.
He hadn’t seen her since the night they had shared a bed. The night he had taken her body and her innocence and made her his. Under normal circumstances, it would be an unpardonable sin to ignore her so wretchedly, but with a woman as fragile in some ways as Dory? It might be the end of them. If there was even a “them,” of course. Which there wasn’t. Because there couldn’t be.
Oh, she was strong, his Dory. In fact, she was far stronger than anyone gave her credit for being. However, beneath that hardened outer shell lay a vulnerable woman that had been cast aside in favor of her more glamourous sisters once too often.
From the beginning of this flirtation between them, Jeremy had vowed that he would never treat Dory as if she was anything but perfection incarnate – because to him? She was. But then he had bedded her and ignored her. That was hardly the gentlemanly thing to do. Or the thing to do with a woman who had given him more happiness than he had ever known.
For what Jeremy had discovered in Dory’s arms was far beyond what he had ever felt with another woman. In short, what he found with her was magic, and he didn’t want to lose that – or her. Even though he still wasn’t certain he could keep her. In fact, he was fairly certain he couldn’t.
Still, he had hoped she would be strong-willed enough to attend the masquerade this evening. Even if it was to do nothing more than to tell him to bugger off – which, of course, he deserved. Actually, he deserved worse.
“She is here, my lord.”
A voice whispered those tantalizing words in his ear and then the speaker was gone. But that whisper was all it took for Jeremy’s blood to heat.
Though he was currently circulating amongst the guests, doing to his best to be a good host and ensure that everyone was having a good time, Jeremy had left explicit instructions that if “Lady Peacock” arrived – the actual Lady Peacock and not yet another pretender – that he was to be alerted at once.
“If you will excuse me. There is a matter that requires my immediate attention.”
With a polite bow, Jeremy managed to disentangle himself from Lord Fullbridge – back in Town and wearing an owl mask – and Lady Tabitha Maxwell, who wore a white swan mask and was, apparently, not nearly as timid and fearful of everything and everyone as the papers would have people believe. Hidden here in the darkness, he had a feeling that both of them assumed their identities were safe but within Dionysus? Jeremy knew everything there was to know about everyone.
“Where is sh…” Jeremy had been about to ask where Dory was waiting for him, but a quick glance around the room told him all he needed to know about his Lady Peacock’s location. For every pair of eyes in the ballroom was turned in the direction of the entryway – where Dory stood in all of her defiant, masked glory.
Gone was the cloak that she normally wore when she entered the club. Tonight, her body was almost scandalously bare, as if she was almost daring someone to comment on her lack of propriety – even within his club, which was known for its debauchery. The string of sapphires she had worn the last time she entered the club circled her neck once more and her lovely face was still hidden behind the elaborate peacock mask that had become her trademark. Yet there, in her hands, was the feminine raven mask she had worn the night she had boldly strode into Dionysus through the front door, just as he had challenged her to do.
She was here. She was magnificent. And she was pretty clearly furious.
Jeremy shoved through the crowd until he came to the foot of the small stairway that led to the entryway
where she stood, heedless of who complained. She was here. She was his prize for the night and he would not be denied.
“My lady.” He swept into a low bow and everyone around him backed up a few paces to give him room.
After all, this was the show that everyone here had been waiting for, whether they would admit it or not.
Even Lord Stillborough, who had been salivating over Dory since she had first waltzed into the masquerade, defiant and magnificent in her anger, backed away just a bit. Or perhaps he stepped back because a man in a tiger mask had yanked him backward.
Either way, it made no difference. Dory was here and now? Jeremy was going to claim her as his.
Except he never had the chance.
With a toss of her head, Dory swept down onto the ballroom floor and came to stand before Jeremy, her normally light blue eyes glittering darkly behind the mask.
She, it seemed, was about to claim him. Propriety be damned.
“My lord,” she purred in a voice so low and throaty that no one could have guessed her identity. “It had been far too long. Don’t you think? I certainly do.” Then she surprised even him by reaching up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head down to hers for a scorching kiss.
Jeremy’s world ignited in a shower of sparks behind his eyes as he pulled Dory closer to him, heedless of the spectacle they were making and well aware that one wrong move could send both of their masks flying, revealing their identities to the assembled guests. He didn’t care. Not one bit.
All he cared about was Dory and the way she felt in his arms as she clung to him, her body pressed so tightly against his that she was likely scandalizing everyone present.
For a moment, he wondered if something was amiss or if she was frightened or if disaster was about to strike. Then, he felt her tongue trace the seam of his lips and he rather forgot about everyone and everything else except for her. He forgot about the spectacle they were making. He might have even forgotten his own name.
Then the whispers began because, really, this was too much, even for Dionysus. Scandalous behavior was always confined to the private rooms upstairs. Always.
Jeremy wanted to sweep Dory into his arms and take her to his chambers so that he might bed her immediately, but that would only make matters worse. It would announce to everyone here that he, Lord Raven, was fucking Lady Peacock. There would be no question in anyone’s mind. At the moment? There were only rumors he was bedding her.
Then again, after that kiss, everyone probably knew those were more than just rumors.
With a sigh, Jeremy pulled away and began to unwind her arms from around his neck. “That was quite a greeting,” he offered when she pouted up at him, obviously annoyed by his lack of further ardor.
“It was meant as a hint. A rather strong one,” she snapped angrily and he wondered what had her in such a lather. Now, though, was probably not the time to ask.
“And it is a hint well taken,” he whispered with far more self-control than he actually felt, “but unless you wish for all of these fine people, some of whom you know outside of this room, to learn precisely what we are doing when we are alone, for now it might be a wise idea not to head directly to the bedchamber.”
Dory’s lips twitched in annoyance, but she finally nodded in agreement. “Very well. I can wait. Though not for long.”
“What has gotten into you tonight?” he asked as he placed his hand on the small of her back to escort her through the crowd that, now that “the show” was over, had gone back to their own amorous pursuits. “This is not like you, Lady Peacock. You are usually more circumspect.”
Once more, her eyes glittered angrily. “I am overset, if you must know. My future? It is being decided for me by those who don’t know me or what I want, yet assume they do. They also assume that they have that right.”
“Your mother and her failing health?” Jeremy whispered in her ear when they were very nearly alone in a section of the ballroom that was separated from a servant’s area by curtains. No one came here, which was why he had chosen it for privacy.
“You know?” Dory’s voice cracked a bit as she spoke.”
“Not completely,” he rushed on, not wishing to make her cry here, in front of everyone. “But Dr. Hastings and my mother have business together and while the physician does not talk, he has a footman who does. As you might guess, since my mother lives in a house that is, in essence, mine, the servants there are loyal to me and report back what they hear.” He grimaced. “Including things they should not. But if Dr. Hastings’ man is talking so loosely? Then it will only be a day or so before others in the ton know.”
Dory blanched white beneath her mask and suddenly, Jeremy very much wished he had simply swept her off of her feet and been done with things, consequences and gossip be damned. At least in his chambers they could speak freely.
“I am expected to resign my life here in London and care for my mother in the country until she passes, as I am the only unwed daughter left.” Dory’s voice was so soft that Jeremy had to strain to hear her.
“And your family refuses to consider that you might marry?” It confused him that no one in the Tillsbury clan – or beyond – might consider Dory’s wishes on the matter, including the very real possibility that she might find a husband.
“Surely you have heard that my previous beau, Mr. Greer, is infatuated with another?” she scoffed. “As my family and friends all assumed that I was beyond fortunate to have snared him in the first place, it is inconceivable to them that I might find another man who would wish to marry me.” Suddenly, some of the anger seemed to drain away from Dory, and she seemed more forlorn now than anything as she slumped back slightly against the nearby wall. “And I suppose they are right, aren’t they? That is my reality, though I like to pretend that it is not. What a fool I have been.”
Jeremy knew what Dory was saying, though she never spoke the words. Until now, she had been an utter failure with eligible gentlemen. Then Harry Greer had come along and everyone had rejoiced, but he was gone now or would be soon, his future with Miss Marshwood all but a sure thing. Which left Jeremy. Except that he couldn’t marry Dory even if he wanted to.
Or…could he?
There was nothing preventing him from marrying Dory. Not really. Nasty gossip did not count. It also didn’t seem like a bad idea now that he thought of it. A lifetime with Dory? A mother for Maggie?
When he looked at the situation that way? It seemed a little less hopeless.
Except…
Well, there was the matter of his own uncertain future just now. And his mother, of course. And if he married Dory now, what would become of the dukedom and all of those people? If he caused a scandal, would he still be able to care for those who had come to depend upon him over the last few years? What about Maggie? What would happen to the child he had come to care so very much about?
Dory’s happiness versus the very lives of so many others.
Because Jeremy wasn’t actually the duke. He existed in an untenable gray area somewhere in between. If his already enraged mother found some quack physician to declare Jeremy incapable of making good decisions, as outlined in his father’s will? Then everything, including ducal responsibilities, would fall to Arthur.
If Jeremy had already been named the duke? Or had an heir? Things might be different. Then his father’s will wouldn’t apply unless he was gravely injured – as Wilson had been.
And in order for Jeremy to truly become the duke, Wilson would have to die and Jeremy officially be named the true Duke of Wyncliffe, instead of just acting in that capacity.
There would also have to be a mourning period, of course, and then he would have to meet Dory properly and court her, assuming he could work his way back into Society’s good graces right away. He was currently a disreputable gaming hell owner, after all. That could take nearly two years or more. Assuming Wilson perished tomorrow, which, given that he had yet to do so after all of these years while lying in an unrespons
ive state, hardly seemed likely.
So then a little more hopeless than he had first thought, actually.
“Sweet, I..” but Dory put a finger to his lips.
“No. Enough. I am sorry. This is our fantasy world and I should not bring my problems in here.” Now she looked only sad and he ached to take her in his arms and away from this place. “I am feeling sorry for myself. That is not what this place or our agreement is to be about.”
Yes, it is, he wanted to tell her. For me, it is about all of those things and more. For me, this is about you. It has been from the first. I was lying when I said otherwise.
“Come,” Jeremy finally offered as he reached for her hand. “Let us dance. That will take your mind off of things.”
However, after a few moments on the dance floor, it became clear that Dory’s mind was still very far away. Jeremy was about to suggest that they retire to his suite of rooms anyway when a commotion, complete with the sound of breaking glass, broke out near the Peacock Dor entrance.
“I need to go. Now. There is trouble.” Lord, what else could go wrong this evening?
Without waiting to see if Dory would follow him, for he knew instinctively that she would, Jeremy pushed his way through the crowd toward the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Richard in his stag mask hurrying in the same direction, the serving girl he had favored as of late trailing behind. That was good. If Richard were here as well, then together they would handle things.
Until Jeremy came upon the scene of the scuffle where Adams had a man pinned to the floor, a familiar zebra mask lying next to him. Beside him was Lord Trenton Pike, his cobra mask that normally hid his identity knocked askew. A woman clad in light pink and wearing a sparkling flamingo mask knelt by his side. Neither Pike nor the flamingo acted as if they knew each other and Jeremy had the feeling they didn’t – at least not with their masks in place. But from the look in the flamingo’s eyes, he had the impression that the man sprawled at her feet wasn’t who she had assumed him to be – and that the flamingo knew the man now looking up at her far better than she had initially thought.
His Temporary Mistress Page 20
