“I don’t know your other sisters well enough to judge, but I suspect all of you are managing, manipulative, and accustomed to having your own way. I assume that also applies to the duke?”
Rain couldn’t decide if he wanted to dump the countess in the corner with his sisters or hang onto her for the rest of the evening. He couldn’t remember ever having a conversation like this, much less on a dance floor. “It’s the way of the world. Someone must lead.”
“And all of you have appointed yourselves leaders without regard to what others think? I am trying to learn how to be a countess, you see. And I’m thinking my tenants would lock me up before they’d accept my manipulating their lives as I pleased.”
“They work for you.” Rain glanced down at her in puzzlement. “They are supposed to do what you ask.”
“It is not really asking, is it? Not when we own the land and hold the purse strings. They either do as we say or leave. And since my tenants only know farming and have no other home, they can’t leave. I know far less about farming than they do, yet I’m supposed to lead?”
“Well, yes, there’s the flaw in allowing women to inherit—”
She released his hands and walked off in the middle of the dance floor.
Rain had no choice but to follow her. He wasn’t entirely certain if he wanted to catch up and strangle her or continue this very odd argument. What the devil was wrong with the woman?
Teddy was right there, handing her a glass of lemonade and laughing over some quip—probably angry—that she’d made—probably about Rain. He signaled a servant to bring the tray of champagne and snatched a glass as he approached. There were some advantages to being the damned marquess around here.
“Walking away from an argument is the reason women will never succeed in leadership.” Rain knew he stoked the coals, but he was enjoying the fire too much.
“A dance floor is no place for an argument,” she countered. “If that is the sort of conversation you wish while others are anticipating pleasure, I can understand why you have difficulty finding a match.”
Rain hid his grin behind his glass when he replied. “I do not normally talk at all during a dance. I have very little to say to young misses, as you can see.”
The music plodded on. The dancers continued their foolish parade. Heads turned to watch them. Rain was fairly certain Alicia was glaring holes in his back about now.
“You must say nice things to the ladies, old man.” Teddy offered helpfully. “Tell them their hair is like spun gold and their eyes are the color of the moon at midnight, that way you don’t even have to figure out the color.”
“I did say nice things.” Rain gestured his glass at the lady, who looked as if she were prepared to escape. “She took them as a rude comment on her person and decision making, I believe. It is the countess who is out of practice at cloying sweetness.”
“You did not say anything flattering. You insinuated I would not dress properly without Alicia’s aid and that I could not deal with my estate because I am female. I do not want flattery,” she added hastily. “I am a mere employee and you have made a spectacle of me.”
“To be fair, my lady,” Teddy interrupted. “He showed the company that you are a countess, the next highest ranking title after his, since it is yours and not bestowed by marriage. If you had a dance card, the bids would be rising.”
Rain was denied the pleasure of her response when Estelle swept over, holding out the infamous dance cards.
“If Rain wishes to pay to blackball the other suitors on Lady Craigmore’s card, I think we can double or triple the bids. Your outrageous behavior, dear brother, has caused a clamor for the countess’s attention.”
Rain watched the angry pink fade from his steward’s cheeks. He suspected she was prepared to bolt. He couldn’t be certain of her reason, but if he had to attend this damned entertainment, he wanted to do so with a sparring partner at his side.
He took the card Lady Estelle waved, tore it into shreds, and flung the bits into the air so all the shallow young cads could see. “Tell Alicia I’ll not deduct the cost of this affair from her proceeds if Lady C is allowed to choose her own partners. The young pups will have to ask properly.”
His reward was her expression of relief. Gratitude would be too much to expect. The lady wielded as much arrogance as he did—she simply hid it better.
“Fine then, I claim the supper dance!” Teddy crowed.
“Over my dead body, Cuz.” Rain bowed before the suddenly tongue-tied countess. “I hope you’ll reserve the supper dance for me, my lady. I’ve been told it will be a waltz and that you dance beautifully.”
Her expression was priceless. Her reply was not.
“I think Teddy might be right about his sketches.” Her voice shook a little. “There is a very ominous shadow in the corner to the left of the musician’s gallery. Perhaps someone should check on the duke.”
Ten
Bell could almost feel the blood leaving her head as she fought the sensation of the dark shadow weeping. Rain offered his arm, and she accepted it, steadying herself without keeling over for a change.
Having spirits show up when she wasn’t semi-conscious was very bad.
She didn’t know if the men accepted her statement, but Lady Estelle appeared concerned.
“I’ll look in on Father. We don’t want to alarm the rest of the party. Rain, provide a distraction and dance with someone else, please. Bell, you should sit down.”
Bell had never really given the sisters permission to use her name. They had simply done so and expected her to call them by their names as well. She preferred order and discipline to hold her challenging life together, but it was exceedingly hard to resist this uninhibited family—
As it was growing difficult to keep her distance from Rainford. Of all his family, he was the most restrained, but underneath that icy demeanor simmered a quiet intensity that could well take any direction if thwarted. She could feel his tension, his determination to protect his father, but he had a duty to the rest of his family as well.
The marquess nodded agreement and Estelle slipped away. Bell had no reason to believe he accepted her foolishness. He could simply be humoring his sister. But she desperately wanted to hope he listened.
“Teddy, be a decent chap for a change. Escort Lady Craigmore to a quiet corner and fend off the dogs until she’s recovered. I’ll lead off the rest of the pack.” Not waiting to see if his orders were followed, Rainford strode off in the direction of Alicia and her eligible young friends.
Unaccustomed to anyone watching after her, Bell wasn’t exactly relieved by this command.
“You needn’t mind me, Teddy.” Now that she knew she wouldn’t topple, Bell headed for a chair almost hidden by a riotous bough of bows with shimmering gold balls and delicate golden glass birds. “You should find a young widow to entertain.”
He shrugged. “I don’t need to woo a widow when Lady Pamela is available.”
Bell sought for the name among the guests and vaguely recalled a languid lady in transparent gossamer who posed as an actress. Or perhaps the actress posed as a lady. Either way, it was apparent Teddy wasn’t ready to hunt a bride.
He continued thoughtlessly. “Rain’s right. If I leave you alone, the rabid dogs will descend. I’ll stay here and growl at them. I’m a very good guard dog. When you’re ready, I’ll lead you back to my cousins. They’ll talk your ear off, but they’re not dangerous.”
She began to feel a bit like a rabbit being coaxed into a cage. “In that case, give me your arm and let us stroll over to the offending corner. Perhaps there is no apparition but a loose drapery or some parlor trick.”
“Don’t usually work that way,” he said gloomily, offering his arm. “It’s why I prefer working here, where the haunts know me and have no interest in my subjects. If I go to someone else’s home. . . I’ll develop a bad reputation. Do you think I should paint Rain? Or the duke? Would that help the spirit speak to them?”
; Well, at least Teddy believed her. “I have spent my life avoiding listening to spirits.” Bell studied the dark corner they approached. “I am not a good source of information.”
“Not sure that’s a smart policy,” he said worriedly as they reached the other side of the floor.
She could feel the icy chill as they stood beneath the musician’s gallery. Lively music poured from overhead. Young couples leapt and jigged about the dance floor with merriment. This corner, however, was flooded with anxiety and fear. She had not encountered anything similar before.
“Well, can you tell anything?” Teddy asked.
“You don’t feel it?” Was she hallucinating, as Rain had suggested?
Teddy shrugged uneasily. “It’s a little cooler here. Probably a draft from outside. This wing isn’t well heated.”
Bell nodded, but privately, she didn’t agree. “Let’s join the ladies, then. They’ll think we’re up to no good over here.”
Alicia seemed to be having a lovely time with her dance partner. Mrs. Lombard—Salina—was chatting with several other young mothers. Estelle hadn’t returned. Victoria, Lady Delahey, was dancing with her husband while engaged in an active discussion that had them dodging other couples.
Bell almost wished she could be in a compatible partnership like theirs, but someone of her nature couldn’t easily adapt to another person’s habits.
A few gentlemen hovered around ladies Bell didn’t know well. She had learned the names of the house guests but not spent much time with them. The older mothers and chaperones huddled together, gossiping about the prospects of the various young men. She didn’t fit anywhere and really wanted to leave.
But Rain was out on the floor, gallantly playing the part of host for his sister’s benefit. She couldn’t dance with him once, then leave. Propriety demanded that she act as if she were interested in the company for a little while. Alicia had worked hard to bring this together. It wasn’t as if Bell could heal the duke.
Her conscience whispered that she could at least listen to his mother.
Ignoring the whisper, Bell accepted the first gentleman who offered for the next dance. She did her best to remember the steps and enjoy the music and the young man who danced so enthusiastically, even if he lacked skill. She deliberately looked anywhere else except the musician’s corner.
She did notice when Estelle returned and the marquess slipped away. She tried not to worry. She danced the next set with a distinguished older man, joining a square with Teddy and the notorious Lady Pamela, who performed boredom superbly.
Rainford returned just as Teddy was demanding Bell’s supper dance. Without a word, the marquess swept her onto the dance floor and imperiously gestured at the musicians. The onset of the waltz before everyone had found their partners caused mass confusion on the sidelines, but Rain swung Bell into the dance with a firm arm and step and pretended he didn’t notice.
Perhaps he didn’t. He seemed so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even speak. For a few minutes, Bell simply enjoyed the sensation of being expertly swept around the nearly empty dance floor as if she were thistle down. She dared say they appeared very dramatic, Rainford in his black and silver and her in black and gold. She didn’t know how he kept the white and silver embroidered waistcoat so immaculate, but it sparkled like the glittery ornaments along the walls.
She sighed in exasperation as she realized what Alicia had contrived. “We match,” she muttered.
That caught his attention. He finally glanced down at her instead of glowering over her shoulder. “What?”
“Alicia told me to wear the gold gown. Did she tell you to wear the silver waistcoat?”
“She told me it was a winter ball and this looked wintery.” He swept her past other couples finally filling the floor and toward the edge where they could see the golden birds and silver boughs. “Gold and silver, I see. Wretched imp.”
“We should be thankful she didn’t ask for green. How is your father faring?” Now that she had his attention, she had to ask, even if it returned his blue gloom.
“He’s dying,” he said flatly. “Not tonight or tomorrow, but I can’t imagine he will last the winter. I’m not ready to lose him.”
That was frank. “I wish I could help.” Bell said it without thinking.
“He wants me to marry. He’s become obsessive about it. Help me choose a likely bride or marry me. Consult with my sisters, if you like. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make him comfortable.”
Startled, Bell missed a step. Rainford held her steady until she recovered.
For his father’s sake, the marquess was quite capable of cold-bloodedly picking a female, pointing at her, and saying, “You, marry me.” And most of the single women in here would curtsy and agree. Heaven help them all.
“I don’t know these people,” she protested. “Will they stay long enough for me to learn which ones are most likely to suit you?”
“No.” His expression was stony. “I am supposed to choose a bride after a few dances and brief conversations with chaperones present. That’s why I’d rather choose you. At least I know you’re not a spendthrift ninny.”
Bell almost laughed. “That was very romantic, thank you. But I am a fragile buffoon who faints if a door slams and who hears spirits in my empty head. I do not even dare lift an infant for fear its cry might startle me into dropping the poor creature. Besides, I enjoy my routines and require peace, which rules out your entire household. What about one of the widows? They’re older. Perhaps they have a little more experience in marriage and aren’t quite so silly?”
“I suppose experience counts, and I should start somewhere.” He studied her while abruptly swinging her in an unexpected circle. “Or I could find a way to heal your fainting. Is it just being startled that causes you to drop?”
Knowing he asked for his own benefit and not hers made it easier not to care about her one irrationality. For a brief moment, Bell allowed herself to be transported by the lovely music, the glamorous couples waltzing around them, the glittering décor—and the handsome marquess actually listening to her.
Briefly, she relaxed in his arms, wishing she could sear this pleasure into her memory. Abruptly, Rainford tightened his embrace and swirled her in a tight spin.
Obviously, his mind wasn’t on the beauty surrounding them.
“Swinging me about like a bell as you just did does not startle me.” She laughed at his air of resolve, as if she were a scientific experiment he must study. “If the music abruptly shattered into cacophony, that might surprise me. I don’t always faint, though. It’s only when the spirits swoop in and batter at my mind. I cannot always fend them off. That’s when I faint.”
“Do you faint if you allow them in?” he asked in curiosity.
“I purposely don’t allow them in, not since childhood.” She wrinkled her nose at his disapproving glance. “Have you ever attended a séance? Listened to the silly women who wave their arms or talk in sonorous tones about the spirit of a long dead loved one wishing to speak with a man with an R in his name?”
“Good heavens, no. Do people actually believe that folly?” He looked rightfully appalled.
At least that was better than his earlier gloom. “Then you understand why I do not do that. Iona and I attended a few séances when we were in London. They were ludicrous, and made me uncomfortable, as if I were the charlatan. The people attending, though, were desperate souls. Their hunger for words from beyond was frightening. I am not opening up myself to that kind of notoriety.”
Enlightenment lit his eyes. “You do not want people seeking you out in hopes you might speak to their long-dead loved ones. Understandable. The dead should be left to rest.”
“Your grandmother disagrees,” she countered dryly. “And if I let her speak, how soon will all the others wish to do so? I could spend the day conversing with ghosts instead of actually living.”
He frowned. “Fainting and avoiding life is not necessarily preferable.”
“You won’t return, will you?” He said it with accusation.
“I’d rather not. I’m tired and unused to these hours. I’d rather read and retire early.”
“I’d rather join you.” At her look of shock, Rainford smiled that lingering smile that made her heart beat a little too fast. “I thought I’d try to startle you into fainting so I could carry you away.”
She laughed and left him in Alicia’s hands when the dance ended.
After the last dance had faded into memory, Rainford checked on the duke again on his way back to his own chambers. His father slept. The footmen sitting with him shook his head, indicating no change. Lady Craigmore’s nagging hag might lurk like the specter of death, as she claimed, but his father’s condition remained the same.
In his rooms, Rain ordered his valet to draw a bath. It had been a damned long day. He didn’t have it in him to tackle weights or bags to work off his frustration. He hoped a hot soak might empty his skull sufficiently to allow him to sleep.
He climbed into the steaming water and let the heat penetrate. He just needed to pry the memory of the countess’s lithe curves from every cell of his body. He’d had more than ample time to admire the way her golden eyes flashed, her pert nose wrinkled, and her wicked tongue lashed—and occasionally purred. Sitting at the dinner table with a lioness might keep him entertained.
At least her head wasn’t empty. It was haunted, apparently.
Picking up the soap and washing, he almost chuckled as he recalled the way the lady refused to accept anything less than honesty. Once he quit placating her, she listened.
And then let him lead her in the dance, even when he held her inappropriately close enough to feel her breasts pressed into him. He could almost imagine her legs next to his. The supple sway of her hips aroused him just imagining—
Captivating the Countess Page 9