by Wolf, Bree
“But—?”
“I did not mean a duty to continue my line,” Markham interrupted, his voice flat and harsh. “I meant—” He broke off, and the corners of his mouth curled upward. “Your lady is here,” he mumbled with a slight nod of the head toward the front hall. “You better hurry before…”
As Markham’s voice trailed off, Zach found himself all but staring at Miss Hawkins, a vision in an emerald gown that matched her sparkling eyes perfectly. Not that he could see them from across the room but, to his utter surprise, he remembered them with perfect clarity as though he’d gazed into them not long ago. Her fiery hair was piled high atop her head, with a few tendrils bouncing down, framing her face, like dancing flames in a hearth. Indeed, she was a vision of vibrancy, of effervescence, of passion…of life itself in its purest form.
All that, Zach saw in the split second before Lord Tedious strode out to greet her, his large back blocking Zach’s view as he bent over Miss Hawkins’ hand.
“It would seem you’re too late, after all,” Markham commented, his voice insistent, like a shove or a kick meant to propel his friend forward.
Zach swallowed, for although he had tried to remind himself why he ought not rush the idea of marriage, in this very moment, he could not recall a single reason. Only yesterday, they’d seemed so convincing and reasonable – whatever they’d been! – but now as he watched Lord Tedious lead Miss Hawkins onto the dance floor, every part of him urged him to interfere.
“There’s a lot of bad blood in this world,” Markham said ominously, “and most of it can be found in London’s ballrooms.” Then he turned and walked away without another word.
Making his rounds, Zach greeted a few acquaintances here and there. However, his attention remained fixed on the redheaded siren and the tedious man twirling her around the ballroom. Her gaze did not linger upon her dance partner, but seemed to sweep the crowd as though looking for someone…or perhaps a way out, for Lord Tedious’ gaze seemed all but plastered to her admittedly low neckline.
Zach felt his hands ball into fists, and he had to force himself to remain where he was. His teeth ground together painfully as he fought to stave off the wave of anger and hot-red fury that washed over him.
After all, a part deep down inside him where reason had no place whispered that she was his to protect. That she was his to care for. That she was…
…his.
Drawing in an agonizingly slow breath, Zach closed his eyes and counted to ten. When he once more opened his eyes, that need to claim her as his own had not passed. Indeed, it burned stronger than ever as he watched Lord Tedious’ gaze drift to Miss Hawkins’ décolletage time and time again.
Indeed, Markham had been right. Dark minds hid behind polite smiles in this place, a place that seemed cheerful and friendly but, in truth, sheltered those who saw only themselves, those who acted without regard for others, only ever concerned with themselves.
It was in that moment that Zach realized he could not allow Miss Hawkins to walk out of his life without truly knowing her, without learning who she was at her core, without seeing with his own eyes if she was the match his heart thought her to be.
But hearts were often known to be blind, were they not? His brother’s had been.
Still, when the last notes of the music drifted off, Zach found himself striding onto the dance floor. As Miss Hawkins had only just arrived, he doubted there was a gentleman who’d already claimed the next dance. However, there would be one soon.
“Miss Hawkins, how wonderful to see you here tonight,” Zach exclaimed as he stepped into Lord Tedious’ path, casting the man a short grin before turning all his attention onto the lady by his side. “You look utterly stunning tonight. Would you grant me the next dance?” Indeed, his words flew from his lips, but he would not risk Coleridge’s interference. And so before Miss Hawkins had a chance to answer, he all but stole her hand from the other man’s arm.
In his mind’s eye, Zach could see Gusford rolling his eyes at him. Yes, he was pushing the limits of human interaction yet again. He couldn’t care less. Sometimes, there were more important things than proper decorum and etiquette. Sometimes, one simply needed to follow one’s heart. And so Zach ignored the hushed whispers around him as well as Lord Tedious’ thundering glare and instead focused his attention on the dazzling smile that met him when he turned his gaze toward the woman in his arms.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said with frank honesty, her eyes the same brilliant green he remembered as they looked up into his. “I was hoping you would attend tonight.”
Zach felt his breath shudder past his lips, unable not to smile at her with every fiber of his being. “I’ve hoped for the same.”
“That you would attend?” she teased with a mock frown. “Were you of two minds?”
Zach laughed, loving the way her teeth sank into her lower lip to keep her smile from spreading farther across her face. Her gaze dropped – only for a moment or two, but when his followed, the breath lodged in Zach’s throat.
There, on a delicate golden chain, resting against her creamy skin was his father’s ring.
The ring he’d been looking for for months.
The ring that had been stolen and then gambled away.
The ring that might have been given as a gift to…
Zach’s jaw clenched, and anger replaced the joy he’d felt only a moment ago. Who had given this to her? Had it been Coleridge? Had he been the one to win the ring in Mortimer’s card game? He had not even been on the list. However, it seemed there was more to the list Markham had provided than met the eye. And why would Coleridge have bestowed such a gift on her? Had he already proposed? Had she agreed?
“Are you all right, Lord Pembroke?” Her whispered words broke into his thoughts, and her green eyes sought his, a spark of something unusual in them. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.” The hint of a smile, strangely hopeful and expectant, clung to her lips as her eyes lingered on his, asking him to answer.
Torn between the deep affections for her that had grown in his chest over the past months and the suspicions that currently invaded his mind, Zach could do little else but stare at her, completely at a loss.
Who was she?
Chapter Nineteen
Rather Uneventful
Admittedly, Rebecca had been concerned that her gown might be a bit too revealing. Indeed, her aunt’s eyes had widened alarmingly upon seeing her descend the stairs that night. However, as Aunt Mildred believed that Rebecca had chosen it to encourage and ultimately secure Lord Tedious’ affections, she had refrained from commenting on it at all.
Only Caroline had looked at her suspiciously over the rim of her thick spectacles. “I assume this attire is part of your plan,” she’d hissed in Rebecca’s ear when they’d walked out to the waiting carriage.
Rebecca had merely grinned at her cousin and squeezed her hand in a way she hoped would be reassuring.
Still, Caroline had all but clung to her when they’d entered the earl’s townhouse as though fearing Rebecca’s revealing neckline might tempt the attending gentlemen to act without decorum. Indeed, many had looked at her, not into her eyes, but lower, and Rebecca had to admit it felt unsettling.
Too intimate.
Far too intimate.
Unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped for Rebecca’s plan depended on being noticed, on being looked at, on being seen. Indeed, she’d chosen a gown and hairstyle that left her chest rather exposed for that very reason, the replica ring its only ornament, meant to catch the eyes of those around her.
Of course, Rebecca only needed him to look.
Lord Pembroke.
Regrettably, Lord Tedious had discovered her immediately upon arriving, dragging her onto the dance floor. Indeed, Rebecca had been rather surprised when his gaze, too, had strayed lower again and again, for before this evening he had always acted with the proper decorum toward her. Never had he sought to take liberties, moving closer than appropriat
e or even daring to steal a kiss. Indeed, more than once, Rebecca had wondered why he even bothered to call on her at all, for his interest had always seemed mild.
Still, that thought had not occupied her mind for long as her gaze had swept the crowd, looking for the one man she truly longed to see. And then he had found her, his dazzling blue eyes meeting hers with such ardor that Rebecca had felt momentarily unsteady on her feet. In fact, the surge of dizziness that had swept through her body had reminded her of the moment the Beast of Ravengrove had drawn his wife into his arms and kissed her with such longing tenderness that her heart had ached.
This was what Rebecca wanted. She’d known ever since seeing Eugenie and her husband together. She wanted Lord Pembroke to look at her as though she were the only one in the room. She wanted him to long to see her, to feel incomplete whenever she was not by his side.
The same way she felt as well.
Rebecca loved the way her stomach flipped when their eyes met, all but collided across the room. She loved the way her breath caught in her throat and her skin tingled, longing for his warmth and comfort. But more than anything, she loved the way he made her feel that she was perfect the way she was deep down.
He didn’t ask her to pretend. To be someone she was not. To hold back. To hide. To change.
No, if she wasn’t thoroughly mistaken, he liked her exactly the way she was.
Or at least, he had until his gaze followed hers and fell on the ring she’d had fashioned after his sketch; if indeed, he’d been the masked intruder who’d come to Ravengrove that night. Judging from the way all color seemed to drain from his face, it seemed that he was.
Rebecca’s heart did a little somersault. “Are you all right, Lord Pembroke?” she asked, all but holding her breath. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
At the sound of her voice, he seemed to shake off the trance that had fallen over him upon spotting the ring. His gaze rose and met hers once more, his own widened, confusion resting there as well as…something Rebecca couldn’t quite make out.
Her pulse hammered in her veins, and Rebecca wanted nothing more than to confront him, to ask the thousands of questions that had formed in her mind over the past few months. However, she did not, afraid to spook him. What if he simply were to deny everything, then where would she be?
No, she couldn’t risk it. As much as she wanted to speak openly, she needed to follow through on her plan.
“It is nothing,” he finally said, clearing his throat. Still, the glowing smile that had been on his face only a moment ago remained absent. Instead, his eyes narrowed as though trying to see below the surface, as though trying to read her, to understand. Clearly, he was confused. And there was now also a dark suspicion etched into his eyes as though he could not help but wonder if she had been the one to steal the ring. Was he considering how she’d gotten it? Of course, he was. How could he not be?
“How was your winter?” Rebecca inquired, determined to continue on as planned.
He swallowed and, for a second, his gaze narrowed. “Rather uneventful,” Lord Pembroke finally said, his gaze still lingering on her as though daring her to contradict him. “I stayed at Pembroke Hall.” He drew in a slow breath. “Mostly.”
Rebecca smiled, knowing only too well what he was hinting at. “Mine, as well,” Rebecca replied, watching him watch her. It was indeed an exhilarating game! “Though I went to call on a friend not long after summer’s end. She’d only recently gotten married, and we hadn’t seen each other in a long while.”
“A friend?” he prompted as the dance brought them closer again.
“Lady Remsemere,” Rebecca offered as though he didn’t know whom she was speaking about. Or had he truly not recognized her? “She and her new husband live on a rather remote estate, Ravengrove. Perhaps you’ve heard of it.”
His hand tensed on hers. “I cannot say that I have.”
Rebecca feigned a carefree laugh. “That is hard to believe as people have been whispering about the Beast of Ravengrove for years.”
“I tend not to lend an ear to rumors,” he bit out, and his gaze once more dropped to the ring resting against her skin.
“Neither do I,” Rebecca agreed, “which is why I decided to call on my friend and meet the rumored beast myself.”
He drew in a slow breath, his chest rising as he pulled her closer. “And what have you discovered?”
“That he is a man greatly misunderstood,” Rebecca whispered, her eyes looking deeper into his.
His gaze narrowed. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. He loves his wife dearly and would do anything to ensure her safety.”
Oddly enough, it seemed that her answer, her assessment of the rumored beast pleased him. For a moment, he seemed to relax, his grip on her hand loosening. Did he know Eugenie? Did it matter to him that she was well taken care of?
Rebecca could not deny that the thought riled her just a little until she reminded herself that even though they’d never met, Eugenie was his cousin. She was family and, perhaps he did care. Had he known that Ravengrove was his cousin’s home when he had broken in? Oh, all the questions she wanted to ask, but could not. At least not now. Not here. “Indeed, a most frightening thing happened one night. An intruder broke into the estate.”
Again, his hand tightened on hers. This time, it felt like an iron vise clamping down, threatening to crush her bones. More than once had Rebecca wondered if he had recognized her that night. It had been dark and she’d come upon the scene barely a moment before he’d made his escape. Had he recognized her? Or not? Did he only now, in this moment, realize that it had been her?
“He was masked.” Rebecca feigned a shudder. “Quite frightful to think what could have happened if his lordship had not been there. He tried to pursue the intruder, but could not catch up to him.” She leaned closer. “He escaped through the window and onto the roof. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A muscle in Lord Pembroke’s jaw twitched. “It must have been quite unsettling,” he remarked, his words forced out through gritted teeth before his gaze darted to the ring once more. “May I ask,” he finally began, his patience wearing thin, “why is it that you do not wear this ring on your finger?”
Glancing down at the object in question, Rebecca smiled, then met his gaze once more. “That I cannot say,” she whispered, “for it is a secret. Why do you ask?”
Swallowing hard, Lord Pembroke attempted to shrug as though he didn’t care at all. “I’m simply curious. Nothing more.” Again, his jaw clenched. “Where did you get it? Is it…a family heirloom perhaps?” His teeth all but ground together as he forced out the last few words.
Rebecca had to fight for control to keep herself from laughing loudly, from speaking frankly, from abandoning her plan altogether. “Not at all. I only recently came into its possession,” she said honestly, watching his countenance turn dark and thunderous. Of course, she could not know what thoughts went through his head in that moment. However, she remembered well what Caroline had told her about Lord Mortimer’s annual card game.
Indeed, her cousin’s explanations had been quite enlightening and helped her understand her aunt’s utter shock at such a seemingly innocent question.
Since Lord Pembroke knew that the ring had been gambled away in Lord Mortimer’s card game, how did he figure it had found its way to her? If only she could ask him, for the look on his face spoke of dark thoughts. Indeed, did he think she’d received it from a gentleman? Her intended? At least, as far as her uncle was concerned. Or worse, a lover? Did he now think less of her?
Truthfully, that thought stung, but Rebecca knew she had to hold the course. “It is beautiful, is it not? I wish I could wear it every day. Unfortunately, its luminous green does not match every gown in my possession.” She laughed a simpering, utterly annoying laugh.
“That is indeed unfortunate,” Lord Pembroke agreed as a faraway look came to his blue eyes.
Rebecca held her breath, hoping –
praying! – that his thoughts were pulling him to the very conclusion she wanted him to reach.
And then the music ended and she saw her hopes drift away.
As Lord Tedious stepped up to her, Rebecca almost barked at him to get lost. Indeed, with each passing day, it proved more and more troublesome to bear this man’s presence. Could he truly not see that she disliked him? That the second he opened his mouth she was all but bored to tears? Still, she could not deny that it was his interest in her that granted her more freedom than her uncle would have otherwise allowed her, and so she bit her tongue and smiled at him with as much sincerity as she could.
“May I escort you to your family?” Lord Tedious inquired politely while his gaze narrowed at Lord Pembroke, a disapproving frown coming to his features. “Your uncle is asking for you.”
“Certainly.” Knowing that she had no choice, Rebecca accepted his arm, cursing silently that her uncle and the most boring man in all of England seemed to be getting along so wonderfully.
“Miss Hawkins?”
At the sound of Lord Pembroke’s voice, Rebecca felt her heart jump into her throat. Still, she willed her expression not to betray her and turned slowly, looking back to face him despite Lord Tedious’ insistent tug on her arm. “Yes?”
His blue eyes sought hers and, for a moment, that old spark returned. It spoke of emotions, deep and unhidden, and it did something to Rebecca’s heart she cherished beyond anything else she’d ever experienced. But the moment passed quickly and she watched his jaw harden, his arms linked behind his back, his hands no doubt balled into fists. “Will you be attending the Winthrope ball next week?”
Yes! Rebecca exclaimed inwardly as relief turned to triumph, mingling with the excitement of seeing her plan bear fruit. “I believe I will,” she told him with a charming smile, one not motivated by a scheming mind or a duty for politeness, but a heartfelt wish to see him again.
In answer, his gaze softened and he nodded to her. “I look forward to seeing you there.”