The Ugly Duckling Debutante

by Rachel Van Dyken

  She liked the way the fabric flowed freely from her hips. In fact, the dress didn’t appear like a French style at all. Looking in the mirror, Sara felt very much like a Grecian princess she read about in her books.

  She smiled into the mirror as Davina dressed her hair. “Would you like me to add some kohl to your eyes, my lady?”

  Sara shrugged her shoulders; it couldn’t make her any uglier. Davina rubbed her eyelashes in kohl then took out some rouge and painted her face. “You look beautiful.”

  Sara knew this was a moment in her life she would never forget. It wasn’t that she actually believed Davina, but the fact Davina said it so honestly left her with some small hope it might be true. It was the first time anyone in Sara’s life called her beautiful. She held her breath to keep from crying. Smiling at Davina, her throat constricted painfully. “Thank you.”

  She turned to look at herself in the mirror when another knock sounded at the door. Davina rushed to open it. Aunt Tilda strolled in and twirled her dress for Sara. “Isn’t it divine? It’s positively shimmering with crystals!” Aunt Tilda looked thrilled, but Sara was appalled. That dress could feed a small country—it was worth a fortune! Why not just donate the dress to her family, so she doesn’t have to suffer through the season?

  Her aunt looked at her strangely. “That’s hardly the reaction I was hoping for, my dear. I do say! Well, don’t just stand there gawking. Hurry along. Lord Renwick is waiting.”

  ***

  Nicholas took a deep breath as he was let inside Lady Fenton’s home. It was embarrassing how long it took him to get ready. Normally he didn’t spend this much time dressing. Today it took him four hours. Granted, he’d ruined at least seven cravats in the process, not to mention torn a hole in his pants after tripping over his own shoe. This in turn caused his groom to ask him if he’d been drinking. He wished. At least it would give him an excuse for his odd behavior. The title of perpetual drunk did have a certain ring to it, but then again anything was better than “lovesick schoolboy.” He shuddered at the thought.

  Nicholas’s valet, who seemed to get more irritated by the minute, went into the large closet and chose for him. The room was dark, fitting for his current mood. The last thing he wanted to do was leave the comfort of his large home to escort temptation itself to the ball.

  Lifting his eyes heavenward, he prayed for strength and donned his tight black silk breeches, a long velvet coat with blue and gold seams, and his finest French silk shirt. The arrangement defined dark and dangerous. Hopefully Sai would get the hint. He tired of the drab clothing he had been wearing for the past two years. It served its purpose of allowing him to blend in with the rest of the ton—but tonight, well, tonight he only wanted one person’s attention, however suicidal that may be. He heard someone approaching and turned around.

  His immediate reaction upon seeing her was to cough.

  Then swear.

  His heightened sense of arousal did nothing for his already nervous demeanor. Adjusting his pants, he let out a ragged exhale. He really shouldn’t have worn such tight breeches. What in the blazes had he been thinking?

  No one would find him guilty of any coherent thought at the moment. His mouth dropped open when Sai made her entrance and twirled in a circle to present herself for Lady Fenton's approval.

  Oh, how he loved twirling.

  Her hair was piled around her head in a beautiful adornment of crystals. The longer he studied her the more he realized she looked like a Greek goddess—like Aphrodite herself. Everything about her screamed perfection, she smiled and curtsied. He had to put his hand on the back of the chair to steady his own shaky disposition. He felt faint….again. That would be twice in one day. She was not good for his newfound faith in a higher power. Lead me not into temptation, but deliver me from evil… he prayed silently, trying desperately to bring some semblance of control back into his melting composure.

  It became painfully obvious in that moment, one of two things would happen this night. Either he would die from unsatisfied lust, or he would beat to death the first man who laid a hand on her.

  The thought of the other men brought with it the sudden impulse to immediately cover Sai's exposed chest with a napkin, or a table cloth, or better yet, his own hands—anything, just so other men wouldn’t take notice. But how could they not? Her low cut gown profoundly accentuated her perfect breasts. Yes, her skin was dark, but it cast a bronze glow from the vast expanse of skin, merely adding to the effect of the perfect likeness of Aphrodite.

  “Perhaps you should take a moment to compose yourself, Nicholas,” Lady Fenton whispered stepping between him and Sai.

  His pride also took a blow when he realized his apparel didn’t have the same effect on Sai as hers did on him. She merely smiled and followed him to the carriage. He decided he wouldn’t allow her to touch him lest it completely undo him; not that he wasn’t already in that exact predicament. It’s only because he didn’t have a wife, or a mistress, or any sort of spirit stronger than wine in his possession at the moment. At least that’s what he told himself when he looked longingly across the carriage. She wasn’t wearing one of those awful contraptions that women often did when they wore ball gowns, in fact if he were a betting man he would say she wasn’t wearing a corset at all, or was she? He leaned over to her side briefly to determine the answer to the mystery, but she turned and locked eyes with him.

  “Find what you were looking for?” she asked mockingly.

  He cleared his throat. “I thought I saw a spider," he stammered. His stupidity was nothing short of legendary this evening; never had he been so at a loss for words.

  “A spider?” she replied. “Really?” Her tone patronized him like a mother catching her son in a ridiculous lie.

  “It was a large spider,” he insisted.

  A large spider? He shook his head and longingly looked out the window wishing for any sort of distraction to keep Sai from pursuing the conversation further.

  The lips of her mouth turned up into a smile. “Well, that obviously changes things.”

  He crossed his arms. “I agree.”

  “After all,” she continued, “large spiders need to be captured immediately. How dare they go skittering about in nature? From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your concern over my welfare; my, if you are so concerned with a spider, just think how you will protect me at the ball!”

  He mumbled something inaudible and prayed the carriage would swallow him whole. He seriously needed to rethink the whole perpetually drunk idea.

  They arrived at the ball not a moment too soon.

  Sai’s eyes were fluttering all over the large house. “Who lives here?”

  “The Duke and Duchess of Cavens,” he answered, bored by her question. Everyone knew who Cavens was. Just how far away from society had this girl lived before coming to stay with her aunt this season? He shook his head and helped her out of the carriage, careful to avoid any direct contact with Sai's exposed skin.

  “Wait!” She pulled on his coat stopping him in his tracks.

  “What is it?” he asked, suddenly concerned. Was she to be ill? Was she nervous?

  “What’s our association?” Her skin pinked with embarrassment.

  He knew he needed to tread lightly; she had a temper, and he didn’t want to prolong their season. His goal was to find her a match tonight. “What do you mean?” His tone was surprisingly even and affectionate.

  She looked at him strangely. “Well, we are arriving alone without my aunt. I know she is just a carriage behind us, but when we are presented…I mean to say, how shall we be announced?” she stammered.

  He tried to hold back, but he couldn’t help himself. A hearty laugh erupted from him, and with it drained all the tension he had been fighting since the evening began. She was adorable.

  “Sai, we are old family friends. Because of today, people believe I have tried to use my rakish wiles to seduce you. Against my better judgment might I add? More than likely you will hear
nothing but gossip about me tonight, along with indignant mothers throwing their more handsome and more innocent titled sons your way.” Not feeling the need to also explain to her that although he hated being used in this way—he would do it all over again if it would keep Lady Fenton from speaking the truth.

  She bit her lip in annoyance. “You mean to tell me that you insisted I slap you earlier so they would throw themselves at my feet?”

  “As they say, or have said,” he corrected himself. “Not even a married woman would turn me down. And you, my lady, already have; therefore, your reputation precedes you.” He held out his arm to her, which she accepted, and then promptly she stomped on his foot.

  He cursed in frustration before pulling her back into his chest. “What was that for? I don’t believe that was a cue for you to kick me!”

  “It wasn’t!” Her face was wild with anger. “I’m sorry; I guess I just can’t control myself around you—you—you—” She was stuttering again. He loved her this way. “Rake!” she yelled, tightening her hands into tiny fists. He remembered her slap from earlier and backed up a little. “I can’t believe you would deceive me like this.”

  He had no words. What could he tell her? Anything he said would only serve to upset her further, especially if she knew the hardest thing she would have to do was yet to come. She was about to be introduced to society. And he was to be hanging on her arm. An interesting night, indeed.

  Both of her dainty hands were still clenched in fury. He would have laughed again had he not already experienced the sting on the receiving end of those hands. His cheek ached on cue.

  “I’ll tell you what,” he said channeling his more diplomatic side. “Let’s just survive tonight, and when it’s all over with, if you haven't found a husband—or if you somehow embarrass yourself because of me—I’ll let you slap me and—”

  “—and you’ll be my slave for a day,” she interjected, surprisingly cheerfully.

  “Deal,” he agreed. No reluctance in his voice. He would pay to follow her around, not that he would ever utter a word of it to anyone. “Shall we?” Offering his arm to her again, he felt his own heart begin to pound and suddenly grew scared for Sai. It was hard enough being of ill reputation as he was, but what would it be like as fresh meat for the ton to feast on?

  Sai took his proffered arm and nestled her delicate fingers in the crook of his elbow. He couldn’t help but admire her spunk. On the outside she looked as calm as any of the ladies of his acquaintance. It was almost as if she was used to people gawking at her, but then again how could she not be? She was breathtaking. In fact, she looked so good in the dress she was wearing, it made him want to curse out loud and stand in front of her like some sort of guard dog, warding off any unwelcome advances.

  Nicholas methodically led her by the Duke and Duchess. Best to get the introductions finished before Sai decided to faint at his feet. Everyone bowed, and then things started going south. The duchess stepped out, took one look at Sai and laughed; she had the audacity to laugh!

  “My dear,” she had her gloved hand over her heart as she spoke. “It looks to me like you’ve brought yourself a little pet.” She smiled curiously at Sai while inspecting her thoroughly from head to toe. Nicholas rolled his eyes, willing the night to end right then so he wouldn’t have to face any more aggravating females.

  “Your Grace.” He bowed again. “This is Lady Sai. She is a guest of Lady Fenton, her aunt.”

  Sai curtsied and flashed a devastating smile. The Duke’s face took on a purplish red hue as he stammered nervously about how beautiful her name was, after which the Duchess elbowed him directly in the ribs—possibly because he was acting like a fool. It was the perfect exit strategy.

  “Sorry about that,” he murmured.

  She kept her gaze forward but responded, “What just happened?”

  He sighed; his past always was such an inconvenience. “She once tried to seduce me.”

  This made Sai laugh so hard he was forced to stop in their tracks, so she could regain her composure. “Are you quite done?”

  “Never.” Her sparkling eyes met his in brief interlude then abruptly turned away.

  He took her arm again and felt himself laugh a little, too. “I didn’t return her advances.”

  “Poor Duchess,” Sai sighed wistfully. “She was probably humiliated beyond repair.”

  He looked at her curiously, “What do you mean?”

  Sai licked her lips. “I meant no disrespect, my lord—”

  “Renwick or Nicholas, never ‘my lord’,” he corrected.

  “Nicholas.” His name sounded like honey on her lips. “But considering your reputation, it must have been a great blow to her pride for you not to bed her. I know that sounds terribly rude but…”

  He interrupted, “No, you are absolutely right.”

  “I am?”

  “Don’t get used to it,” he chuckled, and suddenly they were in the ballroom. It was one of those moments people wrote about in books or plays. It seemed even the music stopped as they entered. Lucky for Sai, she wasn’t aware this wasn’t customary, making Nicholas feel more at ease. Her hand, however, was clutching his arm so tight he would have bruises in the morning.

  “Be brave.” The words came out in an emotional whisper into her hair.

  She looked up at him with her huge eyes and smiled. He wanted to cry in return. He was escorting her to a ball so she could find a husband… as in another man, not him. It suddenly hit him, and his chest tightened as though he had had the wind knocked out of him. She would be in another man’s arms by the end of the Season, maybe by the end of the evening. Her kisses would be reserved for that man and that man alone; her arguments, too.

  What he wouldn’t do just to argue with her for the rest of his life. He looked back down at her perfect face and choked back the words he longed to say. He wanted to take her into the darkened hallway. He wanted to seduce her in the gardens and ruin her reputation for good. But she was not good for him. She was manipulative; he needed to remind himself of that fact before he lost all control. She knew she was beautiful, and beautiful women were not faithful. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was the simple fact fidelity was rare. Married people strayed, and the good-looking ones usually strayed toward him. No, he refused to put himself in that situation.

  He watched as more eyes locked on the sight of the two of them. His chest swelled with pride that Sai was on his arm—until he caught sight of Sir Belverd.

  Sir Belverd lifted an eyebrow in his direction. Nicholas scowled and rolled his eyes.“Please. Nothing could induce me to lose the bet.”

  Belverd shook his head and lifted his glass into the air to salute Nicholas for being so brave. Nicholas wanted to stab him; instead he returned a polite smile and led Sai onto the floor.

  “Any perspective suitors, Sai?”

  “Hmm?” she asked looking up at him. Was she even paying attention?

  Apparently noticing his frustration, she sighed. “I’m sorry, I just… It’s a lot.” Her voice held no confidence whatsoever, so he decided to bolster her esteem a bit.

  “You are not like most girls,” he crooned into her ear as they danced together. “Hold your head high, and be brave. I’m sure you’ve been stared at all your life, this should come as no shock to you, should it?”

  She shook her head no, but the light in her eyes seemed to dissipate.

  “I need you to…” He twirled her quickly and brought her back in, “…put on a brave smile, because the Duke of Kenmore is on his way over, and he needs an heir. An heir you can give him.” On cue, the Duke presented himself and gracefully took Sai out of Nicholas’s hands.

  He felt naked.

  The warmth from Sai’s back faded quickly from his hands, leaving them cold and clammy, and noticeably empty. He needed a drink, a very stiff drink.

  “They will be perfect together,” Lady Fenton’s voice whispered next to him. “I inquired of his status earlier today. He needs an heir, and
lucky for Kenmore, Sai is young enough to do the job.”

  “He’s older than my father.” Nicholas snorted. “Do you really think a girl like Sai could stay with a man like that?” He gestured toward Kenmore.

  Balding slightly, Kenmore had a bit of a pot belly, most likely from over-consumption of brandy. His smile seemed nice and proper, but it never reached his eyes. His skin was papery and wrinkly from the many years he had lived. All in all, he wasn’t the talk of the ton for a reason; he was, simply put, ugly. He was also quite rich, making him one of the most sought after bachelors, right up there next to Nicholas.

  He watched in fascination when Sai smiled at the old Duke. It made his blood boil, and he wasn’t usually prone to physical violence.

  “Need this?” Sir Belverd suddenly appeared at his right, an amused smile on his face.