The Ice Queen

by Sasha Cottman

  “I can see you are unhappy and I do not like to see any of my children out of sorts. Please darling, tell me what troubles you, perhaps I can help,” said Adelaide.

  Caroline considered her mother’s offer. Sharing her problem would bring relief, but she wondered if it would also open a Pandora’s box of troubles. In confiding in her mother, Caroline would need to choose her words carefully. “It’s Timothy Walters. He will not leave me be. I cannot attend any function without him trailing behind me like a small puppy. He does not seem to understand that I am not in any way romantically interested in him.”

  “But for the sake of our families you have kept quiet about this until now. And since you have not been able to figure out a way to let him down without causing a fuss, you have finally decided to confide in me. Do I have the right of it?” replied Adelaide.

  Caroline nodded. “Yes. Ever since Eve married, he has stepped up his efforts to woo me. Last night at the ball, we had a most unpleasant encounter which threatened to turn ugly. If another guest had not disturbed us, I fear I might have struck him.”

  Her mother’s face registered first shock, then understanding of Caroline’s predicament. Timothy and his father conducted business with Caroline’s father, Charles. A public falling out would have ramifications for a number of people, and had to be avoided at all costs.

  “You are going to have to tell Francis. As he is the one who regularly chaperones you to social functions, he cannot be allowed to remain in the dark over this issue. You are his sister,” replied Adelaide.

  And therein lay the heart of the problem. If she was to say anything to her brother, he would chastise her for showing such scant regard for yet another young man’s heart.

  She was about to tell Adelaide that it was no matter when her mother gave her a look which made her hold her tongue.

  “I shall speak to Francis. I will tell him he needs to gently persuade Timothy to look elsewhere for his future bride. I won’t mention the incident last night; I will just let him know that the attentions of young Mister Walters would be better directed at someone else.” She picked up the scarf again and held it up. The light shone through its fine merino threads, and Caroline nodded her approval. The burnt orange would look perfect against her mother’s deep brown hair.

  “Thank you. Hopefully both Timothy and Francis understand,” replied Caroline.

  Francis sat back on the leather bench seat of the Saunders family town carriage and stared at Caroline. He was clearly not happy.

  “Mama and I had an awkward and, at times, embarrassing conversation this afternoon. I thought you were more than content to have young men running around at your beck and call. Don’t tell me you are beginning to tire of your court of admirers?” he said.

  Caroline sighed. Her private concerns as to Francis’s response about her behavior were showing themselves to be well-founded.

  “I have never encouraged Mister Walters. I am polite and friendly to him, the same as I am with Harry. Harry seems to understand that, which is perhaps because he is your friend. But Timothy does not,” she replied.

  “Harry does because he is Harry,” said Francis.

  Neither Francis nor Caroline were prepared to voice the fact that Harry also carried a flame for Caroline. It was an open secret between the siblings that Harry had loved her for forever, but valued his friendship with Francis enough never to openly pursue her. And for that, Caroline was eternally grateful. She saw Harry as a kind and sweet man, but one who could never stir her soul.

  Francis met her gaze. “And you have never once given Walters any sign that he had a hope in winning your heart?”

  “No. I treat him exactly the same as I do all my gentlemen friends,” said Caroline.

  “To be honest, Caroline, I don’t understand why any man would want to throw himself at you when you treat all your admirers so badly. Sometimes even I believe that you have become the ice queen: with no heart.”

  Caroline huffed angrily. Francis was no help. If he was going to spend the evening punishing her for voicing her concerns to their mother, Caroline would much prefer to stay home. She leaned forward on the carriage bench and reached for the handle of the door.

  The carriage lurched forward, causing her hand to miss the handle. She quickly sat back in her seat and glared at her brother. “If this is what you truly think of me, then why are you bothering to take me with you this evening? If you would rather not accompany me, then just say so and I shall ask the driver to turn the carriage around and take me home.”

  Francis waved his hand at her. “No. It is just that I would have preferred that you had told me Walters was making a nuisance of himself. It’s a tad embarrassing for a chap to have his mother take him aside and give him the news. While Mama didn’t go into specifics, I was left in no doubt that his attentions toward you have become somewhat problematic.”

  “My apologies, Francis, but you were in such a hurry to get to the card tables that I didn’t get a chance to talk to you in private. You just abandoned me,” she snapped.

  She immediately regretted her harsh words. Her wide social circle had of late shrunk to become almost exclusively centered around her group of male admirers. With Eve now gone, there was only Francis left at home to escort her out for evening entertainments. If she fell out of favor with him, she would have to resort to following her mother to social gatherings. She would rather stick pins in her fingers than spend the evening with society matrons. There had to be a solution to the problem of unwelcome suitors. If she could just get away.

  An idea popped suddenly into her mind. “Perhaps getting out of London might be what I need. If I ask Uncle Ewan, he might let me travel up to Strathmore Castle. Someone from the family is bound to be making the trip north soon, so I can go with them.”

  Time and distance from London would do her good. Strathmore Castle, the family seat, was located in the lowlands of Scotland, not far from Falkirk. Everyone within the extended Radley family usually made the trip north to spend Christmas at the huge Norman-era castle. If she went up early to Scotland, she would have time and privacy in which to find her good humor once more.

  She loved Scotland. Being so far from London, it afforded her the opportunity to go tramping over the hills and enjoying the fresh mountain air without the worry of having to observe all the social niceties of London society. In Scotland, she could relax. She could be herself.

  “That is one possible solution. I shall of course have a quiet word with Walters when I next see him. In return, I ask that you hold your temper when it comes to dealing with him. You may not be in love with him, but that is not to say that he won’t be disappointed when he discovers that you do not return his affections,” replied Francis.

  “Thank you. In the meantime, I shall try to be as tactful as I can if I see him again.”

  Scotland would not be the panacea for all her ills, but it would give her time and distance to come up with a better approach to the incessant demands of suitors such as Timothy Walters.

  Chapter Five

  The carriage stopped outside an elegant townhouse in Bird Street, and a footman opened the door.

  “I thought we were going to the party at East India House?’ said Caroline.

  Francis jumped down from the carriage and offered her his hand. “Change of plans. Before I was advised of the delicate situation with Timothy Walters, I made mention to him of our plans for this evening. In light of that, I thought it might be prudent for you and I to attend Viscount Munroe’s party instead. I hardly think Walters will try and hunt you down if he discovers you are not at East India House.”

  Once inside, Caroline fell into her usual routine. A small group of admirers quickly formed around her, but she felt safe with them. One or two of the bolder members of the group asked to place their names on her dance card, but the rest seemed more than content just to be close to her.

  “I shall be in the cards room if you need me,” said Francis.

  Caroline was abou
t to remind her brother that as Harry was not present this evening, he was leaving her unchaperoned, but she thought the better of it. The idea of having an evening without Timothy, Harry, or Francis lurking nearby was suddenly quite liberating.

  If pressed, Julian would have confessed to cowardice. Since Lady Margaret’s revelation that the former Dowager Countess Newhall was in town, he had steadfastly refused to attend any social functions. At the end of the week, Lady Margaret had finally called him on his behavior and ordered him out of the house.

  Stepping into the ballroom of Viscount Munroe’s home, Julian held his breath. As a child, he had turned avoiding his mother into an artform. He called upon all those finely-honed skills once more as his gaze slowly scanned the room. He would do all he could to avoid having any contact with her.

  You are a grown man, Newhall. When are you going to stop being afraid of your mother?

  But the scars from his childhood ran deep, right to his bones.

  He quickly sought out a footman and downed two large brandies in rapid succession. With the edge taken off his nerves, he slowly began to circulate, ever conscious of checking and rechecking the people around him. A trickle of sweat worked its way uncomfortably down his back.

  A space had been cleared to one side of the main reception room for dancing, and he stopped to watch four couples as they stepped through a quadrille. The smooth motion of feet and swirling skirts moving in time, coupled with the brandy, soon calmed his mind.

  He was still swaying gently with the music when the quadrille finally came to an end. To his surprise, the orchestra then quickly changed tempo and he caught the opening strains of a waltz. Other dancers now crowded onto the dance floor. In some quarters the waltz was considered scandalous, but its popularity in London high society continued to rise.

  With an impending house party, it occurred to him that he would have to brush up on his footwork. It wouldn’t do to go stepping on the toes of any young ladies who may have it in mind to be his future countess. Crushed toes did not win hearts.

  Lady Margaret’s plans for the house party were moving forward, and he was now reconciled to playing his part in securing the Newhall line. He would do all he could to make the event, and the search for his future countess, a success.

  He was still in two minds as to whether to seek out a dance partner to practice his waltz, or indulge in a third brandy, when the decision was taken roughly out of his hands.

  From out of nowhere, a hand appeared under his arm and he found himself being dragged toward the dance floor. When he looked down, he was shocked to discover that the owner of the hand was the same blond beauty who had insulted him in the hallway at the recent party. The very same woman who had told him to mind his own bloody business.

  “Dance with me,” Caroline Saunders commanded.

  Julian was the prisoner of the Ice Queen.

  Words of protest died on his lips as they neared the edge of the dance floor. Across the ballroom, to the right of the orchestra, he caught sight of his mother. She was standing to the side, so had not yet seen him, but it would only take a small movement of her head for their gazes to meet.

  The long years apart were swept away as he beheld the hard face of the Countess of Lienz. Her disapproving frown had now become permanent in the lines around her mouth.

  Caroline tugged on his arm and he tore his gaze from his mother. Caught between his lifelong nemesis and the presumptuous beauty who held him captive, he immediately chose to dance. He would choose many other things before he would voluntarily speak to the countess.

  He took hold of Caroline and spun her into the waltz. “We meet again,” he said.

  She looked up at him and when their gazes met, he was certain he heard her curse under her breath. But to her credit, she quickly recovered. Impressive.

  “Caroline Saunders, and you are Earl Newhall. Since this is the first time we have made proper introductions, I think we should both forget about our previous encounter. I know I certainly have done my best to put it behind me,” she replied.

  He raised an eyebrow. She was a feisty creature, beyond just a little rude. He tightened his grip of her hand and was rewarded with a hard stare. “And yet you have chosen me to rescue you from something or someone. I cannot think of any other reason why you would pressgang a chap into dancing with you. Don’t tell me you inadvertently misplaced your group of sycophants this evening? How careless of you.”

  The flash of anger which crossed Caroline’s face was deeply satisfying. “How dare you! Why I should . . .”

  Her gaze drifted to something behind him, and she immediately fell silent. At the next turn of the dance, he checked to see where she had looked. Across the floor, some ten feet away, stood the same young man she had been arguing with at the party some days earlier. The man who had demanded that Caroline dance with him. What was his name? Thomas or something? Whoever he was, his gaze never wavered from Caroline.

  “Your fiancé?” he asked.

  Caroline grasped his hand tighter. “No. His name is Timothy Walters. He is an admirer. An unwelcome one. I had hoped to avoid him this evening but he has managed to run me to ground,” she replied. The earlier haughtiness in her voice disappeared.

  “I take it you don’t share his sentiments or affections,” he said.

  “No,” she replied.

  Julian had heard it all before. His mother’s constant lament at having been forced into an arranged marriage with his father. How her ethereal beauty had been squandered on a man who was short and fat. She was a shining light of London society, while the late Earl Newhall had been little more than a boring country squire.

  The fact that he worshipped his wife and did everything to make her happy mattered nothing to her.

  Her disdain for her husband had then been transferred to her son from the moment of his birth. Julian’s mother had never attempted to hide her disgust at his very existence.

  “Are you here with someone who can take responsibility for your safety? You cannot hide out all evening on the dance floor,” he asked. He had no intention of becoming the man responsible for protecting her.

  The sooner he was rid of the tiresome Caroline Saunders, the better. Women like her would never be satisfied with their choice of husbands. Pity the poor fool who did marry her. He, for one, was determined not to be a cuckold the same as his father had been.

  Her shoulders dropped. “Yes, my brother, Francis, is in the card room. If you could see your way to accompanying me to locate him, I would be forever in your debt. He is a very tall young gentleman with a shock of white hair, he should be easy to spot in the crowd. While I don’t wish to cause a public scene, I fear that if I am forced to speak to Mister Walters, I may not be able to hold my tongue.”

  Having already been on the receiving end of Caroline’s fiery temper, Julian did not wish to witness it a second time. “Of course.”

  They fell silent, after which Julian was content to let his thoughts wander as he continued to pull Caroline skillfully through the turns of the waltz. When she stepped closer to him, and he was forced to adjust his hold on her waist, he did his best to maintain the distance between them.

  At the end of the dance, he quickly ushered Caroline from the dance floor and went in search of Francis. Her brother could deal with his self-centered sister. Francis, however, was not in the card room.

  She turned to him, then nodded toward the doors which led outside to the garden terrace. “He may have gone out into the garden to smoke a cigar; he does do that at times. I shall see if I can locate him outside,” said Caroline, stepping away from him.

  Julian kept his hold on her arm. She was still his responsibility and he was most definitely not going to let her go outside on her own. It was a crowded party, but if her unwelcome suitor had it in mind to find her, he would. Julian was not going to let Caroline go until he delivered her safely into the hands of her brother. “Let me help you. One of the benefits of being as tall as I am is that I can spot peopl
e in a crowd.”

  His mind now occupied on finding Francis Saunders, Julian failed to see his mother when she appeared from a nearby room. By the time he did see her, it was too late. The countess crossed his path and then stopped. She turned and gave both him and Caroline a look that would wither grapes on the vine. “Newhall.”

  “Your Highness,” he replied.

  His mother’s eyes sparkled at the acknowledgement of her exalted status. Her new husband was of royal Austrian blood.

  Caroline dipped into a curtsey, giving his mother the respect to which her title deserved. Julian knew the woman herself did not merit any sort of deferential treatment.

  The countess did not acknowledge Caroline’s elegant manners. “I see you have put on weight Newhall. I hope you know the name of the tailor the Prince of Wales uses, because from the look of your girth, you shall also require his services shortly,” she sneered.

  Julian ignored the spiteful and unfounded comment and dipped into a respectful bow. Years of his mother’s constant berating of him for his physical appearance had afforded him a degree of thick skin when it came to her barbed insults. “Mother,” he replied, loudly enough so that others around may hear.

  The downturn in the corner of her lips was payment enough for him. The former Countess Newhall had always been one to lie about her age. Having a fully-grown son was not something she would appreciate being mentioned in public.

  When he lifted his head, his gaze fell upon the emerald and diamond choker which the countess wore at her throat. A pair of emerald drop earrings completed the set.

  He gritted his teeth. They were part of the Newhall estate collection. She had taken them, along with a number of other priceless pieces of jewelry, when she’d abandoned Julian’s father and fled to Austria to be with her royal lover. She had no right to them. None at all.

  “Madam, those jewels do not belong to you. I demand that you return them, along with the other estate items you still have in your possession forthwith. I can supply you with a list if you require one, starting with the Crusader Ruby,” he said.