by Sahara Kelly
“She fainted. Again.”
“Ah.” Judith sighed. “Well, perhaps this will have to remain a sad case of love unrequited.”
“There is another detail here though,” continued Lydia. “Rolfe has a souvenir of their encounter in the gardens and she’s afraid it might accidentally come to light. Or that Lord Rolfe might mention it. Or something equally dimwitted. It’s an heirloom and unique.”
Judith held up her hand. “Stop there for a moment. Fiona seems very confused about Lord Rolfe’s character. He might refuse to wed her if she leaves her current fiancé for him, but could be clumsy enough socially to reveal that he has her earring? Or do something just as idiotic?”
“I didn’t say she was very bright,” muttered Lydia.
“My dear friend, Miss Fiona is not only a widgeon, she’s a cabbage-headed ninnyhammer.”
“Yes. Without question.”
Judith thought it over for a few moments. “So she’d like her earring back. And I suppose that is a more sensible wish since it is proof positive of their interaction…”
“Indeed. If he made it public and someone recognised it, she’d faint. And that would inevitably lead to the breakup of her engagement and thus embarrassment for the Duke…you know what Society is like at the mere whiff of a scandal…”
“And she has no idea what Lord Rolfe’s next actions would be…” Judith pondered the matter. “She must be quite beside herself. And I also cannot quite understand why she cares so deeply for this man if she believes he would act in a less than gentlemanly way.”
“She’s a complete and utter mess, and she’s also astoundingly addlepated.” Lydia rolled her eyes.
“Did you make any suggestions?”
Lydia shook her head. “I really had no idea, to be honest.”
“Couldn’t she just ask for her earring back? Send Lord Rolfe a note perhaps?”
“My first suggestion.”
“And?”
“She fainted.”
“Perhaps she could tell the Duke?” Judith tried again.
“I did propose that as a possible course of action.”
“And?”
“She fainted. Then sobbed for ten minutes.”
“So…no, then.” Judith sighed. “Her Duke must be a stickler for the proprieties.”
“They’re a perfect pair.”
“Right, so she can’t talk to him. Has she tried talking to Lord Rolfe?” Judith held up her hand as soon as the words left her mouth. “Don’t even bother to tell me. She’d faint again at the mere idea of contacting him.”
“I talked to Matthew. He’s a man. I hoped he might have a better alternative…”
“Or at least one that would keep her conscious.”
Lydia sighed. “He was all for gathering some friends and taking care of Lord Rolfe. His words, not mine. But by the look on his face, it would not have been anything we could approve of. Plus, why do that when we’re not sure how much of the blame should be placed on Rolfe? Although he should never have taken the earring in the first place. I suppose Matthew could be allowed to rough him up for that…”
“And that would end badly for everyone,” added Judith. “What a pity men have to think with their fists all the time.”
Lydia eyed her friend. “Not always their fists. I have to wonder if Lord Rolfe is thinking with another part of his anatomy.”
The girls’ glances met.
“Well, Fiona is quite beautiful, I’m told.”
“When she’s not in a pile on the floor…”
The peals of laughter subsided after a few minutes and allowed them to return to their conversation.
“All right, so—after this amazingly unexpected turn of events—do you have any ideas on how to help Fiona? And honestly, Lydia…” Judith touched her friend’s hand. “I think she should go to her parents with this, don’t you?”
“If I were in this kind of mess, I probably would, yes. I agree. But…” She sighed. “You haven’t met Fiona’s parents. They are the quintessential members of Society. Everything has to be just so, and that includes Fiona. The proprieties have to be observed. I’ve never seen Fiona’s mama anything other than perfectly correct.” Lydia shivered. “She scares me to pieces. If she’d been my mother, I’d probably have a tendency toward fainting as well.”
“And there is no chance at all of the Duke being a last resort?”
Lydia snorted. “None. She’d be unconscious before she finished telling him.”
Judith frowned. “Does that man have a name, by the way?”
“Er…” Lydia looked puzzled. “I’m sure he does. I can’t recall it off-hand, though. I’ve always thought of him as Fiona’s Duke. I haven’t met him myself, but I hear that other than his title, he’s a bit unimpressive and somewhat reclusive.”
“Obviously on the low end of the Ducal register,” giggled Judith.
“So how can we help?” Lydia looked perplexed. “She’s a friend. I do not want to see her suffer, and suffer she will, most especially if any of this ends up bandied about and dissected over the teacups. Given her reputation and her position as an Incomparable, it’ll turn into a thorough, if bloodless, slaughter.”
“True.” Judith sighed. “It does seem that Lord Rolfe might be the only option as far as settling this mess is concerned Can you let me think this over for a while? I need to concentrate. There has to be a way out for Fiona that ensures she obtains her heart’s desire but doesn’t compromise her standing in Society.”
“I think she’s already compromised that, but don’t tell her.”
“I won’t. She’d faint again, wouldn’t she?”
“Without a doubt.”
*~~*~~*
Maud took a deep breath as she walked down the stairs of Sydenham House to oversee the final preparations for her next Wednesday Club event.
It felt like the first real evening; she’d considered the initial get-together as a sort of trial run. Its success had guaranteed that it would become a regular feature of London’s social calendar, although listed well below some of the more important events hosted by some of London’s most influential people.
However, she was proud of what she’d accomplished. And goodness, the house looked lovely.
Great bunches of the last autumn chrysanthemums filled vases dotted around the foyer, their russet and gold hues warming the niches and pilasters. She’d emphasised them with touches of glitter—ribbons, a candle or two in gold branches—November was one of the darkest months of the year, and Maud felt it incumbent upon herself to lighten it as best she could.
There would be no shortage of guests, thank heavens. Parliament was still in session, a goodly number of the Ton were still in town, and it would be a few more weeks before everyone departed for the country and the Christmas season. Tonight, her rooms would be full.
And—she smiled at the sound of a violin tuning up—there would be dancing.
“Are you ready, my love?” Sir Laurence strolled down the stairs, his eyes on her as she stood at the bottom surveying the preparations.
“I have no idea,” she shook her head. “Yes. No. I’m not sure…”
He chuckled. “You look magnificent, if that’s of any help.”
“As long as you think so, darling.” She leaned against him for a few moments. “You’re a good sort, Laurie.”
He blinked. “Er…don’t overdo the flattery, my sweet.”
She laughed. “You know what I mean. I doubt many husbands would allow their wives to turn their homes into clubs for youngsters.”
“We’re not exactly passing out hobby horses and dolls,” he admonished. “I like to think of this as a kind of finishing school for those youngsters. Give ‘em a chance to rub shoulders with those who’ve already finished. So to speak.”
Maud nodded. “Well put.” The knocker sounded. “And I think our first students have arrived.”
Hobson’s stately walk toward her was a thing of beauty. “I believe your guests will be
darkening the doorway very soon, my Lady, Sir,” he bowed deeply.
Maud could sense the resignation oozing of him. “Ah, Hobson. If only our guests could attain a small semblance of your astounding sangfroid.”
“Indeed, my Lady. The world would be a better place.” He inclined his head respectfully and moved into position at the doorway as the first partygoers arrived.
“Well, here we go then,” said Sir Laurence. “Where’s Judith?”
“Finishing touches, dear. You know how girls are…”
He glanced at her. “No, I don’t. I only know how you are. And your finishing touches are brief and perfect.”
She stared at him as she tucked her arm in his. “I think I need to have you bronzed.”
His laugh rang out, bringing a smile to those about to enter Sydenham House.
The sound reached upstairs, where Judith was indeed adding the finishing touches to her ensemble, tying a rich purple ribbon into her hair, and arranging the last few loose tendrils around her face.
Her gown was simple; in a style she much preferred to the heavily ornamented ensembles others might have selected. Pale lilac, appropriate for a young debutante, it was a silk so lightweight that it truly did float around her toes as she moved. Here and there, tiny purple violets had been embroidered on the silk and there were matching violets on the full puffed sleeves. Instead of white lace, a pale spring green edging finished the sleeves and neckline, drawing attention to Judith’s bosom and neck.
She studied herself in the mirror. Yes, she had developed reasonably well, all things considered. She did not possess the larger attributes that enticed gentlemen to linger, but she was satisfied with the curves she had. Her neck was acceptable, and although not bedecked with any kind of flashing jewellery, the single thin gold chain with its tiny amethyst pendant was comfortable and attractive.
She fastened the matching ear bobs and declared herself ready to go. All she needed was her evening gloves and reticule.
One last look at her reflection—and the question she’d been ignoring burst fully fledged into her mind.
Would Ragnor like what he saw?
That aggravating tingle shimmered up her spine at the thought of what might happen if he did. But there was only one way to find out.
Taking a deep breath, she left her room and headed for the landing, knowing she could catch a glimpse of the arrivals, and—as she had done before—summon her courage.
The foyer was filled with noise; chatter, laughter, the occasional polite squeak…all the sounds of young people ready for an evening of fun. Beneath ran the soft echoes of music, letting Judith know that the small orchestra had arrived and was already engaged.
She shivered slightly as the door opened again, admitting more guests. This time she smiled…Lydia and Matthew were there, followed by Ivy and Rose. The quartet would be complete, and Judith let out a sigh of relief. Even if nobody asked for a dance, she would have her three friends near at hand.
One more guest arrived.
She watched, knowing it was him, seeing him remove his cloak, hat and gloves, passing them to a servant and exchanging a word or two with Hobson.
That, in and of itself, was telling, since Hobson seldom unbent to address anyone, let alone the Wednesday Club guests. He performed his duties in an upstanding and scrupulously correct manner, but to engage in discourse of a spontaneous nature? Unusual to say the least.
Judith’s gaze clung to Ragnor. His fair hair was a little mussed, and it gave him a touch of insouciance; she itched to run her fingers through it and find out if it felt as soft as it looked.
As if he’d sensed her thoughts, he lifted his hand and brushed the unruly locks back into place. And then—he looked up, meeting her gaze, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight.
With one of his most appealingly wicked smiles, he bowed, then strolled to the bottom of the staircase.
And waited.
She was going to have to walk down and join him, otherwise it would become obvious she was…hesitant. So she moved, her steps slow and cautious, her hand grasping the polished bannister and her eyes lowered to each stair. Heaven forbid she trip and end up as a whimpering lump of lilac silk at Sir Ragnor’s feet.
The notion made her want to chuckle and she couldn’t keep from smiling as she reached the bottom safely and took the hand he extended. “Good evening, Sir Ragnor.” She curtseyed.
“God, you are beautiful. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, siren.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Siren? Really?” She wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Yes. You’ve cast a spell over me tonight, without an ocean or a song.”
Amused, she allowed him to tuck her arm beneath his and turn them toward the sound of merriment. “I shall believe that’s a compliment. Although to be honest, I’m not quite sure…”
He grinned. “It was.”
She sighed in relief. “You have eased my mind considerably.”
He leaned closer. “And you are muddling mine.”
She frowned. “I—what?”
“I want to dance with you. A waltz if possible. I want you in my arms. Close in my arms…”
Judith’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She closed it, swallowed, and tried again.
“All right…”
Chapter Ten
R agnor wasn’t used to having his breath taken away.
He could remember it happening a few times—once when his mare had given birth, once when he saw his first rocket shoot into a night sky—and tonight. The moment he’d set eyes on Judith Fairhurst at the top of the stairs.
There’d been an odd flash of rightness, a brief sensation that something inside him had clicked into place. He’d felt himself stirring beneath his evening breeches, lust and desire mixed with the urge to just touch her.
Her gaze crashed into his and it was all over.
He faced his future in that moment, and found himself in complete accordance, although a little irritated that Fate hadn’t given him the chance to run through more options.
Ah well. So be it.
Miss Fairhurst was his.
The shy smile on her face as she walked toward him, the simple elegance she probably didn’t even know she possessed, plus the amazing intellect that lay beneath her beauty…he was caught, fair and square. In those few seconds, the plans and goals he’d set for himself shifted, settled into a new path which now included looking at Judith every morning over the breakfast table, and seeing her at night beneath him in their bed.
He’d get her with child…
And the mere hint of that notion threatened the fit of his breeches once again.
He’d managed conversation, and now they were on the threshold of the ballroom, looking around as a few couples were already whirling to a sprightly tune.
“Waltzing is allowed, I see,” he squeezed her arm as it lay within his. “Will you honour me with the next one?”
“Of course. This is an informal occasion, so I have no card, but yes, Sir Ragnor, I will dance with you.” She shot him a quick glance from beneath her eyelashes. An artful manoeuvre, but she probably had no notion of that.
“And will you play cards with me?”
Her head came up. “Oh, goodness. Now that I’m not sure about.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because, sir, our last game did not elevate your mood.”
“I lost, didn’t I? I’m never thrilled about losing, Miss Judith.”
“Especially to a female?”
He had the grace to acknowledge the truth of that with a faint flush of colour. “That was true, yes, and I have apologised for it. But now I have the measure of your skills. I will be ready for you.”
“I’ll accept the challenge,” she laughed. “You’re very good. It is a delight to play against an excellent opponent. Between you and Sir Laurence, I am managing to keep my hand in.”
“I would imagine so.”
“Here you are. I was look
ing for you.” Lydia rushed up, Matthew not far behind.
The young ladies exchanged social kisses, and the gentlemen nodded.
“Matthew says he needs to talk to us, Judith,” said Lydia in a whisper.
“You know, I wondered if we should talk to them too,” answered Judith in a similar tone. “About our friend and her Duke?”
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Hmm. I suppose it couldn’t hurt…”
Ragnor cleared his throat. “While you’re all busy deciding what or what not to do and who and what to speak with, could I have that waltz, Miss Judith? I have a horrid feeling that if not now, then there’ll be no chance later…”
Matthew grinned. “Agreed. I’ve asked Miss Rose, for the next one, and Liddy…you’re promised to Mitchell, aren’t you?”
“Ugh, yes.” She groaned. “If I must.”
“Very well,” nodded Judith, decisively. “Let’s say we meet back here in two hours. By then people will be moving around more, and we can find a quiet spot for our discussions.”
“Done.”
Sir Ragnor grabbed her arm, afraid if he didn’t hang on to her, she’d be off somewhere else. And that was unacceptable. “Come along. They’re about to start the next waltz, I believe.”
“Wait…” She let him tug, but followed slowly. “The waltz? I must check with Lady Maud. This isn’t Almack’s, I know, but still…”
He clenched his teeth, but nodded, then looked around, finding his hostess in the other corner of the ballroom. “There she is. Keep an eye on her. I don’t want to lose sight of her.”
With a firm grip on Judith’s wrist, Ragnor all but pulled her around the ballroom, deaf to her whispered entreaties to slow down. Finally, she fell into a borderline trot and arrived in front of Lady Maud out of breath and with a ribbon in her hair coming loose.
Maud’s lips twitched as Sir Ragnor bowed. “Ma’am, I’d like your permission to waltz with Miss Fairhurst? She seems to feel that we should have your blessing before we do so.”
“If you’re planning on dragging her through the measures at that speed, Sir Ragnor, I can’t say I blame her.”
“I…er…” He sighed. “May I waltz with her?”