Jeremy blew out a long breath. This had to be the Bloody Duke’s work. He was the only man with enough power and connections to all parts of London to have done this. Or his agents had. How? He had no idea, but it was the only solution that made sense.
“Very well,” Jeremy agreed. “And thank you again. I still have no idea what you are saying just now, likely because I haven’t slept in three nights. But in time, I think I shall sort it all out. Presuming I ever sleep again.”
If he could ever stop thinking about Dory.
“If I might be so bold?” Mr. Okey ventured, “I have one more piece of advice for you.”
“Of course.” Because at this point, Jeremy was so utterly confused, what was one more thing he did not understand?
From behind the counter, the other man produced a shiny silver invitation stamped in gold lettering and secured with a now-broken wax seal. Jeremy had the same one on his desk back at Wyncliffe House. It was an invitation to the Bloody Duke’s grand ball that evening. He hadn’t been lying about already having an event to attend that evening.
Odd, but for some reason, it did not surprise Jeremy that Mr. Okey had an invitation to the event as well. The man really did know – and was liked by – everyone.
“You have one of these, Lord Dunn?”
“I do.” Jeremy hadn’t opened it yet, but he had one. He also wasn’t planning on attending. What would be the point? There wasn’t anything – or anyone – at the ball he wanted.
“Have you opened it?” Now Mr. Okey was serious, something Jeremy had never seen him be before. “Or have you thrown your invitation away?”
Jeremy shrugged. “I still have it, but I’ve yet to open it. I don’t see the need. I won’t be attending.”
“I really think you should. You need to both open the invitation and attend the ball.” Now the man was being forceful, something else that was surprising. Mr. Okey was always kind but never this forceful.
“And if I don’t?” Jeremy couldn’t imagine why he needed to attend when his presence would be more disruption than anything.
“Then I think you will regret it.” He paused. “No. I am certain you will.” Another pause. “And if you don’t attend on your own? Someone else might not give you a choice and drag you there anyway.”
Now the pain from earlier was moving behind Jeremy’s eyes and he was getting dizzy. He just wanted to get Maggie’s toys and go home. “Fine. I will attend. Even if it is only for an hour at most.”
The shop owner grinned now, his face lighting up and making him seem more like his usual, jovial self. “That is a fine idea, Lord Dunn. You really must attend, as I said. I am certain you will find it very…heart-warming. And, as I said, if you don’t? Then there will likely be…issues, I’m afraid.”
If that suggestion had come from anyone else that morning, Jeremy would have likely bitten their head off – proverbially of course.
That it had come from this man? The man who had somehow managed to buy and keep safe all of Maggie’s toys until Jeremy came to claim them – even if that hadn’t been his original intent? A man whose big heart was well known to all and more of a teddy bear than a dragon in his dealings with people? Well, a nagging little voice in the back of Jeremy’s mind told him that he would do well to listen to Mr. Okey’s advice. Especially this time.
He looked at the invitation again as it sparkled in Mr. Okey’s hand. “Attend the ball, you say?”
“I do.” Mr. Okey was serious again. “As I said, it is actually very important to many people that you do.”
Again, coming from another man, that comment might have been viewed as a threat. But not from Mr. Okey. From this man, the words were a well-meaning suggestion. A suggestion that should likely be heeded.
Also, the ball was being hosted by the Bloody Duke and he wasn’t a man that people said “no” to, at least not if they wished to keep their head attached to their shoulders. Looking at the matter from that perspective? How could Jeremy say no? He couldn’t.
“Very well.” He gestured for his coachman to come inside and begin collecting the boxes with Maggie’s toys. “I shall be there.”
“And you will have a delightful time, I’m certain, Lord Dunn.” Mr. Okey seemed so certain of that,
Jeremy on the other hand? He was less certain. Far, far less. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if he was downright miserable. Still, hadn’t he just vowed not to give up on what he wanted? To see if he could make changes and win Dory back? Yes. Yes, he had. And if Mr. Okey thought that tonight was a good time to begin, then who was Jeremy to question?
“I hope you are correct, Mr. Okey,” Jeremy finally replied as he picked up a box of Maggie’s toys. “I sincerely hope so.”
I am,” the other man replied enigmatically. “Trust me.”
At that point? Jeremy had no other choice. Not if he wanted Dory back. And he did. He wanted her back more than anything. And he would do anything to have her – including selling his soul to the devil (or even the Bloody Duke, if necessary) if that was what it came to. He just hoped that it didn’t. But he would. If he had to.
Chapter Twenty-One
Town Tattler
(Early Evening Supplemental Edition)
More changes are afoot, dear readers. This time at Lord and Lady Candlewood’s gala ball, which is scheduled for this evening. Changes of what sort? I cannot say for I do not know. I am simply told that they are “big” and “possibly scandalous.”
Scandalous! Bah! What does anyone in this Town know of that word? It’s meaning has been lost. Especially in London.
What would truly be scandalous is if nothing scandalous happened at all!
Or if people learned how to use that word correctly.
-Lady A
The candles in Lady Candlewood’s chandelier blazed so brightly that they hurt Dory’s eyes. Or that could have been because she had spent most of the last few days secluded in her room, far away from everyone with all of the curtains drawn. Yes, that was, perhaps, the more likely explanation.
Dory’s world had slowly been growing darker and darker over the last few days. Though Rayne had sent word to Frost at Hallowby Grange regarding the events at Dionysus nearly a week ago, there had been no return message. That worried her. She didn’t believe that Frost and Lavinia would be hurrying back to town any time soon, especially not with Lavinia so newly a mother. Not to mention that the worst of the scandal had passed and at least two new “scandals of the century” had popped up in the papers over the last two days.
However, the whispers still remained. Then again, they probably always would.
Dory heard the scathing, not-exactly-whispered comments from the old tabbies when she entered a room. She heard the tittering of debutantes from behind their fans and dance cards when she passed by. She might not be front-page news any longer, but she was still news – and she didn’t really wish to be.
“You see? As I promised, no one is giving you the cut direct. They would not dare.” Beside Dory, Miri positively beamed as she chuckled. “Besides, in comparison to me, you are not nearly so scandalous!”
Dory wasn’t quite certain of that, but she didn’t want to correct her new friend, either.
Over the last several days, Miri and her husband Will had escorted Dory to at least one social function each night, including a rather public trip to the theater two nights ago. Dory had to wonder if at least some of the whispers she heard were really questions as to why she was in the company of Lord and Lady Blackstone, rather than with Sarah and Rayne.
The public answer was that Sarah was ill and possibly with child. The private answer? Rayne was once more furious with his wife for interfering when she should have simply left well enough alone.
Rayne had also recognized that in order to keep up appearances, Dory needed to be seen out and about in Society, though he worried that if he and Sarah accompanied her, there was a chance Sarah might interfere with “plans.” Again.
Dory had no idea what th
ose unspoken “plans” were, but Rayne had made it clear that if Sarah interfered again? She was going to “spend some quality time in the country.” Rayne had also confided to Dory that Sarah had never been the same since she had been with child and then lost the babe a few months back – something that Dory had never known.
Rayne was gravely worried about his wife and wanted to take her back home to Fieldown, their country seat in Dorset, so that she might “recover her mind.” He was also worried about what she might do if she was out with Dory, and they encountered the new Lord-Wyncliffe. Rayne would not say why this worried him, but it was clear from his grim expression when they spoke that it was a matter of some concern.
And all of that was how Dory had ended up with Miri and Will as a companions for the last several evenings. Not that she minded, because in a few short days, Miri had become one of Dory’s favorite people.
“They are still talking, however,” Dory replied as she and Miri glided past “Wallflower Row” were every single lady had their fans to their faces and their heads bent in conversation.
“Pish!” Miri gave a dismissive gesture. “Let them talk! Half of what they say is not true, and the other half is unimportant.”
“Of course,” Dory agreed, but she didn’t really believe that. After all, Miri had a titled and powerful husband along with a great pile of money to protect her. Dory had? Well, not much.
As they continued on toward the far side of the ballroom where, of course, Will was waiting for them, Dory watched the eyes of the ladies and gentleman watching her. Some of the eyes she recognized, though she hadn’t realized it until this moment. She had seen those eyes behind any number of masks at Dionysus’ masquerades. Surprisingly, she could easily connect the mask with the wearer now.
The falcon who had danced with her that first night? That was Lord Colin Thorne, the Earl of Parrington, who would eventually become the Duke of Strathwaite. The black swan who was always seemingly draped over every gentleman she could get her claws into? That was Lady Isabella Ellerly, the Italian-born wife of Viscount March.
Dory knew these people’s secrets now, even though she hadn’t meant to learn them. What would they do if she exposed them, just as she had been exposed? Not that she ever would, of course. She was not that sort of lady. That was why Jeremy had been so careful not to bed too many women, she supposed. Unless you were with someone you completely trusted, secrets – once revealed – became dangerous weapons.
In truth, if revealing one or more of these people would save Dory from banishment to the country? She still wouldn’t do it. That would be betraying the trust Jeremy had placed in her, and even though she was hurting and even though their relationship was in tatters, she would not lash out in that fashion. She would never do anything that might hurt the man she loved. Never.
After all, what had happened wasn’t Jeremy’s fault. At this point, Dory wasn’t quite sure where to lay the blame, even though there was plenty of it to go around.
All she really wanted was to see him again. To talk with him and tell him that none of what Sarah had said was true. She wanted to tell him she still desired him.
Actually, what Dory really wanted was to tell Jeremy that she loved him and likely always would.
She also wanted to hear him say that he loved her in return, but if he didn’t? It didn’t matter. She loved him and thought he deserved to know that there was at least one person in the world who accepted him as he was. Just as he was. No changes necessary.
They might not have a future together, but at least he would know how she felt. It would be difficult to live without him, but it would be even more difficult for her to live with the regret of knowing she’d never been able to say those words. Words she truly believed Jeremy needed to hear.
Saying those words to Sarah wasn’t at all the same thing. No matter what her sister said.
As they reached Will’s side, Dory did her best to try to blend into the wallpaper as she had done so many times in the past. However, Miri was having none of it.
“How can you expect to fill your dance card when you are hiding back there?” Miri chastised, yanking Dory back in front of her.
Looking around the Candlewood ballroom, Dory toyed with the card and tiny pencil attached to her wrist. “I don’t. In fact, I’m not sure who would want to dance with me, even under threat of torture from our host.”
“I would.”
Dory would recognize that voice anywhere and the mere sound of it now made her toes curl in her slippers and her pulse begin to race. Slowly she turned and saw Jeremy standing in front of her, head slightly bowed and looking far more handsome than she had ever seen him. So handsome in his all-black eveningclothes, save for his snowy white cravat and sapphire and emerald stick pin, that he took her breath away.
“Lord Blackthorne. May I?” Jeremy offered Will a short bow. “With your permission, of course?” His gaze flicked to the card at Dory’s wrist.
“Of course.” There was a far-too-pleased expression on the earl’s face.
Dory all but toppled over in disbelief as her gaze ricocheted between Will and Jeremy. Will was giving Jeremy permission to dance with her? Was he mad? Was he deliberately trying to anger Rayne and Frost, and quite possibly the Blood Duke, too, by putting her in the center of scandal once again?
To her shock, Will even went so far as to reach down and yank the dance card from Dory’s wrist, snapping the thin string that bound it to her wrist. “There you are, Wyncliffe. Have at it.” He offered Jeremy the dance card with another calculating grin.
“Thank you. As long as you are certain.” Jeremy looked anything but certain and Dory could not blame him.
“I am.” Will rocked back a bit on his heels and crossed his arms over his chest in a self-satisfied motion. Another wicked grin teased his lips, which rather reminded Dory of her own brother more than just a little.
However, it was when the notorious earl winked at Dory that she nearly forgot herself and demanded to know what was going on.
Dance with her.
Talk to her.
No matter who might be watching.
You will not be denied.
But above all, play along.
Ignore that warning at your own risk.
Those six simple sentences had been written on a scrap of paper tucked inside Jeremy’s invitation to Lady Candlewood’s ball this evening. Had he not opened the invitation – mostly at Mr. Okey’s urging – Jeremy never would have seen those instructions. Hell, without the toy shop owner, he never would have even come to this ball.
Jeremy had seen Mr. Okay a few moments ago when he had first entered the Candlewood’s opulent townhome. The other man had been in the company of several gentlemen that Jeremy didn’t know, heading off for…well he didn’t know that either, and he didn’t really care, he supposed. Mr. Okey’s business was his own and he had thanked the man with a tip of his hat.
Then, Jeremy had gone in search of the ballroom – and Dory.
Now, she was here in front of him and he found that he was completely tongue-tied. Somehow, he had managed to ask Blackthorne if he might request a dance with Dory since the man was apparently her guardian for the evening. He hadn’t expected that the earl would give him her whole bloody dance card. But he had and now, Jeremy fingered it carefully, as if he had no idea what he was supposed to do with the thing.
Finally, he tossed the card on a nearby table. If Dory wished to pick it up later, she could. According to the note inside the invitation, he didn’t even need the bloody card. He could simply ask for a dance and his request would be granted.
“My lady.” Jeremy held out his hand for Dory, hoping and praying that she would take it.
She didn’t at first. Actually, she seemed more ready to bolt from the ballroom than anything. However, someone – likely Lady Blackthorne – pushed Dory in the back and all but forced Jeremy to catch Dory as she fell directly into his arms.
“Your grace,” she said after she manage
d to right herself. She skipped the curtsey. Not that he had been expecting one.
That phrase, “your grace,” sounded so odd to his ears anyway, but it sounded even worse coming from Dory’s lips. He was just Jeremy to her, or at least he had been before. He wanted to be “just Jeremy” again. If she would ever forgive him.
“May I have this dance?” he finally asked since he was beginning to feel a bit like a fool. Then, he quickly amended his offer. “Unless, of course, you are otherwise engaged?”
“She is not.” That came from Miri who gave Dory another shove, this one hard enough to propel her fully into Jeremy’s arms. “I can assure you of that, your grace.” Then she turned to her husband. “Will? Isn’t that Lord and Lady Covington? I haven’t seen them in an age. Let us go speak with them, shall we?”
Then, Dory’s guardians were gone, leaving Jeremy alone with her.
This night was becoming more peculiar by the moment. However, Dory was back in his arms where she belonged, so Jeremy wasn’t complaining.
“How have you been fairing?” he asked as he led her onto the dance floor where a waltz was just beginning. Odd. He could have sworn this next set was to be a country dance. No matter. This simply meant they could speak more openly.
“It has been…difficult.” Jeremy watched Dory swallow hard and more than anything, he wanted to sweep her into his arms and take her from this place so that they could talk. Really talk, just as they had at Dionysus, and not play at this stilted conversation they were having now. “I assume you read the gossip sheets?”
Now it was his turn to swallow hard. Getting right to it, was she? Very well. “I do. I mean, I did.” He paused mid-step. “Dory, I…”
However, before he could tell her anything more of what was in his heart, there was a commotion and everyone around them stopped waltzing as well. Immediately. Almost as if the whole thing was planned.
Had he wandered into the middle of some sort of bizarre farce that the Bloody Duke was putting on? One where he did not know his lines? That wouldn’t surprise him, actually. The gentleman was a bit mad.
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