by Joan Vincent
Mesmerized by the cool green pools she was gazing into, she answered with a vague “yes.” Turning her head towards Parker, she stared at him; then full comprehension returned.
“Parker? What happened? Where is Grandee? Is she unhurt? What happened to the fool who ...” Her staccato questions ended as she looked at the Marquess once more.
“You!” she said accusingly.
“Is it such a crime?” Longeton asked, regaining some of his reserve.
Thomasina had become rigid in his arms. “The question needs no answer,” she snapped. “If you will please unhand me.”
“You appear normal enough. Parker, give Miss Thait your hand and help her rise.”
Taking it, Thomasina stood unsteadily. She would have fallen had not Longeton sprang up and supported her.
“You have no sense, do you?” he scolded. “Let me help you be seated,” he urged.
“No—I am only a bit light-headed.” She took the kerchief Parker had picked up and now held out to her. Lightly patting her face, she said, “I am much improved now. You may release me—please.”
Longeton stepped back, his scowl once more firmly in place. Fine spirit but little enough sense, he thought. Most women would be having a fit of hysteria and none would have objected to my aid. What was the cause of her intense dislike?
“I apologize, Lord Longeton,” Thomasina said shakily. “I should not have been riding on this path at such a reprehensible speed. I trust you were not injured?”
“He’s fine,” piped in Parker, “but his roan has an injured foreleg.”
“I ... I am sorry ... for the animal, your lordship,” she said. Then thinking once more of her mother, she turned away. “Grandee and Toby?” she asked Parker.
“They are unhurt ... just down the path where I left them,” he answered.
Thomasina stepped forward unsteadily.
“Let me assist you. You have taken a rather nasty fall,” Longeton insisted, once more stepping closer.
“No.”
Two brown eyes sparkled angrily at him. Shrugging, Longeton motioned Parker to her side. In silence the pair shuffled forward, the Marquess staying close to Thomasina’s other side, ready to aid her if necessary.
When they reached the animals, Thomasina realized there was only one way for her to reach her saddle. “If you please, your lordship,” she said grudgingly.
Longeton stepped before her. Taking her waist in his hands, he said in an undertone, “It will please me greatly,” and lifted her into the saddle.
His hands lingered for an odd moment, but looking into his eyes Thomasina felt no desire to reprove him. He lowered his hands, took hold of Grandee’s reins, and handed them to her. “Are you certain you will be able to ride?”
“Yes, of course. But—no one knows we are out this morn.”
“You need not fear my telling.” He turned and put Parker in his saddle. “Lead the way to the stables slowly for Miss Thait,” he commanded, “and see that she is allowed to rest the remainder of the day.”
“Yes, sir,” Parker answered snappily, beaming with a bright smile.
Longeton released Grandee and led Toby forward a short distance. “Can you come to my rooms without being seen?” he asked the boy conspiratorially.
Parker nodded eagerly.
“Come to them after you sup.”
Saluting sharply, Parker then looked back and saw Thomasina urging Grandee forward. The mare, no longer frisky after her fall, went obediently.
“I will send a groom for you, Lord Longeton,” Thomasina said primly.
“That will not be necessary. It would be best if I made my way back alone. And,” a slight smile clouded his scowl as he hesitated, “you had better redo the buttons on your bodice before you reach the stables.”
Thomasina’s eyes swiftly followed his gaze and she gasped. Her free hand clasped her collars together. Blushing fiercely and without another look at the Marquess, she urged Grandee on, halting only when out of his sight. With a shaking hand she fastened the buttons and then smoothed her hair. Against her will, the feeling of security she had experienced before she realized whose arm held her returned. A tear wended its way down her cheek.
Oh, mother, her heart cried. The despicable man can only remind me to do my buttons, and that after all he has done to us! Another tear followed the first.
Looking back, Parker saw the tears. “Does your head hurt so terribly, Tommi?” he asked with concern. “I will be good all day for Nanny so you may rest. Then you will feel much better,” he assured her.
Thomasina wiped the remains of the two tears away with the kerchief in her hand. Looking at it, she saw the crest embroidered on it, and realized whose it was. She crumpled it into a ball. Raising her hand to toss it away, Thomasina found the action stayed by another tear. After dabbing at it, she tucked the kerchief into her sleeve cuff and urged Grandee forward.
Chapter Eight
Light pierced the gloom of night triumphantly from all the windows and doors of Buckley House. Decorative lanterns twinkled gaily about the gardens outside the ballroom, providing soft glows in contrast to the brilliant shafts of light blazing forth from the trio of double doors that faced the gardens. These doors were opened to allow the cooler evening air to enter. They also to provide a convenient exit for those who sought the evening breeze or wished to stroll along the more dimly lit trimmed paths.
Looking to the front of Buckley House, one could see an ever increasing melange of carriages and finely matched pairs as guests continued to arrive.
Lady Augusta had never presided over a receiving line with such gloating satisfaction. It seemed all those invited were making an appearance.
No one would ever dare to snub me again, she thought as she smiled and nodded repeatedly, greeting all with smugness; they had not always been so willing to attend her house.
Dianna stood at her mother’s side, a faint echo of the other. Her gown of white satin became her sparse frame and roses from the gardens improved her coffee-coloured hair, which had been done in the latest style. Only the heads of the more elderly guests were adorned with periwigs and perukes.
Lady Augusta had been very relieved when Lord Longeton had appeared at supper with none. Pride in knowing the proper form had induced her to try several of hers on Dianna, but they succeeded only in making the girl a ridiculous figure—an oversize puff of white atop a rail-thin stick. The desire to create a pleasing impression overcame that to follow the proper style.
Dianna’s pale smile was a sallow shadow of her mother’s overbearing, gloating one. She dared to steal a glance at Lord Longeton, whom Lady Augusta had manoeuvred to place at her side at the last moment. His usual sombre face appeared hollow-cheeked and sinister to the young girl as his brooding scowl grew deeper with each lifted eyebrow of those who passed through the line. She found the Marquess a forbidding person. His presence was having an ever increasing disquieting effect upon her. All her mother’s fine words upon the advantages of a match with his lordship were losing their glow.
A look at her mother’s supremely self-satisfied face assured Dianna that chance of escaping the match if his lordship persisted would be nonexistent. For an instant dismay covered her weak smile.
Longeton chanced to glance down at that moment and wondered briefly at its cause. As his eyes met hers, she bit her lip and ducked her head. Instantly, he thought of another pair of eyes—far more lively and definitely more challenging. Longeton realized he would have preferred those eyes to be beside him now.
Time drifted slowly for the Marquess, who had found receiving lines a scourge since coming to the title. His usual demeanour concealed this, masked all of his emotions. Those he came in contact with, socially or through business, judged him a hard man, completely noncommittal as far as personal feelings were concerned. Only those who had grown up with him and known him intimately in the years before the title was forced upon him thought his present bearing odd—changed—and regretted it. They would have
recognized the Marquess far more easily if they had seen his visit with Parker that afternoon rather than as he now stood in the receiving line.
Parker’s enthusiasm for the Marquess had become boundless since the morning’s incident. Only Mathew Sherrad and Thomasina had treated the boy with any kindness in his brief dealings with adults. Longeton acted as if he were an adult and Parker accepted the responsibility robustly. Thomasina would have rested the day away even had she not desired to! It was an eager lad who had stolen to the rooms Longeton occupied after bolting down his supper.
Seeing much of himself in the young boy, Longeton treated the lad as if he were a man. Parker responded with admiration and loyalty. Without realizing it, he had answered the Marquess’ unasked questions. Both were pleased with their chat.
The stream of incoming guests had slowed to a trickle; at last the signal was given for the receiving line to end. Longeton offered his arm to Lady Augusta and led the way to the ballroom. Their entrance caused the musicians to strike the first notes. With a flourish, the Marquess led the Baroness into the first dance, the other guests gradually joining them.
To all who observed him, Longeton’s deportment showed only disinterest. In truth, however, his eyes swept over the guests, searching.
At the end of the minuet he gave Lady Augusta a gracious bow and went to claim his dance with Dianna. Walking towards her, he saw Viscount Sherrad enter from the garden. Upon his arm was Thomasina.
Dianna quaked at the Marquess’ fierce scowl as he bowed and offered his arm to lead the next country set. Not a word was exchanged the entire dance as both watched a fellow pair with concealed interest.
Longeton observed that Thomasina moved somewhat stiffly, as would be expected after her fall that morn, and also that she made her steps uncertainly as would one who had seldom danced. He noted that she cast an ever grateful smile at Mathew Sherrad. The attentiveness with which the Viscount showered his companion was also marked by Dianna.
The set ended; Longeton bowed to Dianna. Curtsying in return, she rose and took his arm. Together they wended their way through the milling dancers, halting before Sherrad and Thomasina.
“I have given my word that I would dance with all the ladies of this household,” Longeton said smoothly. “Miss Thait?”
With an anxious look to Mathew, who nodded, Thomasina raised her eyes to Longeton’s defiantly.
“If you will pardon me, my lord,” she said with equal aplomb, “I would rather—”
“There you are,” piped Lady Augusta’s shrill voice, interrupting Thomasina.
With a brief bow to the Baroness, Longeton said, “There is no need to search me out, my lady. I am willingly carrying out my promise to dance with all members of your household. Miss Thait and I were about to join the next set, were we not?”
The realization that she had been outmanoeuvred without a word spoken on her part rendered Lady Augusta speechless.
“I will decline if you wish, Aunt,” Thomasina said.
“You will do no such thing, young woman,” Lady Augusta scolded. “Unless his lordship wishes to withdraw his most gracious offer to such an ungrateful child,” she ended, looking hopefully at the Marquess.
The music had begun and Longeton answered by holding out his hand. Thomasina dared do nothing but place her hand in his.
Mathew offered his arm to Dianna and the foursome joined the dance.
Lady Augusta watched them pensively, then relaxed as it was apparent that both Thomasina and Dianna were not speaking to their escorts. “At least the chit knows her place,” she said under her breath. Spying her husband, the Baroness set sail, preparing to broadside him.
“Where have you been? Well, no matter. Have you managed to speak with his lordship privately about the matter? Speak up. What have you to say?”
“Now, my dear...” began the Baron.
“So, you have failed, as usual. Must I attend to all matters?” she demanded.
“It would be most unseemly for you to approach his lordship about this matter,” answered her husband with a slight show of spirit.
Forcing a smile to replace her grimace as she saw guests approaching them, Lady Augusta whispered to her husband. “I want this matter settled—this eve ...
“Why Lady Penelope, how kind of you and Lord Audley to come,” she greeted the couple before them.
On the dance floor, two gentlemen were feeling the chill of disfavour. In one it raised an unusual wry humour, in the other, further dismay. Neither man had chance for words, the steps of the set being intricate and their partners claimed by others as soon as the last note fell silent.
Towards the end of the first hour of dancing, Thomasina was once more claimed for a dance by Viscount Sherrad. He had seen that his acquaintances kept Thomasina constantly upon the floor.
“Mathew, could we please not join them?” Thomasina asked as they approached the pairs forming for a country set.
Sherrad’s eyes narrowed in concern. “If that is what you wish. Not up to all the excitement, eh?” he teased.
“I am a bit thirsty and certainly somewhat worn down.”
Gazing at her apologetically, the Viscount said, “I had forgotten how tiring dancing can be—counting and watching all those steps and turns.” He smiled encouragingly.
With a laugh Thomasina agreed. “I have trounced enough feet this evening to ensure my abandonment.”
“No, you could never be abandoned, Thomasina,” Mathew said sincerely, then his mood shifted.
“I tell you what—you step outdoors. I shall fetch an ice and join you. There is a matter I would like to discuss with you.”
Her eyes quizzed him.
“I shall say no more,” he laughed. “Go out—I shall not be long. If anyone should ask you to dance, tell him I have spoken for you.”
Thomasina watched him weave his way through the crowd, a half-smile upon her lips, then turned and exited through the first set of doors she came to. The cool night breeze fanned her gently. With a heavy sigh she moved to a semi-secluded corner of the dimly lit garden and indulged in a very unladylike stretch. Sore from her fall, she knew morning would cause her to feel the results of the night’s dancing even more. Another long sigh escaped as she sat on a nearby bench to wait for Mathew.
What could he wish to discuss? she wondered. All was forgotten as she heard, “Miss Thait,” quietly behind her.
Rising sharply, she spun around awkwardly to confront the Marquess.
“I see you, too, felt the need for relief from the exertions of the dance,” Longeton said as he stepped around the bench. “Do you think it wise to be so active after such a fall as this morn’s?” he asked, taking in her moon-haloed stance.
“It is no concern of yours, my lord,” Thomasina snapped, her eyes surveying his strong jaw line, firm lips, and broad shoulders, even as her mind struggled against the impression. “Mathew ... Viscount Sherrad is to join me, so if you please...”
An eyebrow twitched sardonically, “I see.”
His tone raised Thomasina’s ire. “If you will not go, I shall,” she said angrily, turning away only to find his hand upon her wrist. “How dare you,” she said, her eyes sparking their outrage.
Longeton’s eye lowered briefly; then a screen covered his emotions. “You are a troublesome chit,” he said exasperatedly. “Perhaps my first assessment was the correct one.” He drew Thomasina closer.
When the Marquess raked her face with his gaze, his expression startled her. “You are hurting my wrist,” she gasped, grappling for words to break his spell.
“I have no desire to harm you,” he said stonily, “and I shall claim what you have chosen to give Sherrad.” With these words his hand pulled her roughly to him, his free arm encircling her waist as his lips claimed hers in a rough, vexatious kiss. Freeing her lips, he gazed at her still upturned face. The moonlight gleaming off her copper curls added a note of quaintness to her features. With an oath, he released her and strode away.
Nearin
g the ballroom, he did not acknowledge Sherrad’s salute as they passed one another.
As the Viscount halted and cast about for Thomasina, he wondered what could have caused such a black look. Spying her, he joined her in a few quick strides. “Here is your ice, Tommi. Sip it and you will be instantly revived,” he said gaily as he held it out to her.
Thomasina reached for it slowly. Desperation flickered for an instant as she raised her eyes to his.
“Is something wrong, Tommi?” he asked, struck by her forlornness.
“Of course not, Mathew,” she answered, taking the ice and seating herself.
Sitting beside her, Sherrad reached for her hand. “I am your friend, Tommi. Tell me what is troubling you. Has one of my friends been too bold?”
“Oh, no,” she answered with a forced laugh. “It is ... it is—well, I took a fall ... from Grandee this morn.” Looking up, she was touched by the concern that crossed his features.
“I was not harmed in any way,” she assured him. “Only bruised and am now terribly stiff. It was stupid of me.”
“And I was making certain you had no dance free,” Mathew said with mild disgust. “Why did you not tell me sooner?”
“No one knows of it but ... Parker.”
“Ah, that explains it,” he broke in. “I must speak with that young rascal. You are much too lenient with him.”
“Now you sound like my aunt,” Thomasina retorted.
“The world can survive only one Aunt Augusta,” he replied with mock seriousness.
Their mutual laughter mingled with the music and chatter coming from the ballroom. “That is better, Tommi. I think it would be best if you simply stole away to your room. What I had to speak of can wait. If the Baroness should ask after you, I shall say you had a headache.”
“The ache ‘tis far from there,” quipped Thomasina and both laughed.
Viscount Sherrad watched her walk back into the ballroom, his mind flitting about nimbly. Longeton’s black look and Tommi’s disconcertion, plus the other set of odd facts. Thomasina had taken a fall from Grandee and the Marquess’ stallion had been injured in a tumble. Were the two connected?
