Scandals of Lustful Ladies: A Historical Regency Romance Collection

by Meghan Sloan

  Chapter 13

  Alice could already hear the buzz of people arriving, chattering like starlings as they made their way towards the ball room. She stepped out of her chambers, walking swiftly across the hall to the rooms that Charlotte was inhabiting, knocking quickly. She was appalled to find that her palms were sweating.

  “Come in,” called her friend.

  Charlotte was still being attended to by a maid as she entered, but she was almost ready, although her red cape lay abandoned on the bed. She was in an enormous red ball gown, with a skirt so wide Alice had no idea how she would navigate the doorways. The dress had been styled in the manner of the doomed French aristocracy. Charlotte would have looked right at home in the palace of Versailles.

  “Do not laugh,” warned Charlotte, looking under siege. “I swear, I am going to make Nicholas pay for having a costume ball!”

  Alice laughed. “You look wonderful, my dear. I am sure you shall find your woodman to rescue you from the big bad wolf in no time.”

  Charlotte snorted and then glanced at her friend for the first time. Her eyes widened.

  “My, what big eyes you have!” said Alice.

  “Oh, Alice!” she exclaimed. “You look truly wondrous, like a real fairy queen. That gown, and the icicle crown…”

  Alice blushed. “I feel ridiculous,” she said, wriggling uncomfortably. “The bodice of the gown is so tight. I had to wear a corset as well. I can barely breathe.”

  “Well, we shall be ridiculous together, then,” declared Charlotte, turning to her. “Are you ready to descend? I have heard the carriages arriving for the past half hour.”

  Alice took a deep breath. “I am as ready as I will ever be.”

  ***

  Alice’s eyes widened as they made their way to the ball room. Nicholas had outdone himself with the decorations. It looked truly spectacular.

  There were snowflakes made of crystal hanging from the ceiling, glimmering in the candlelight, and large boughs of green holly interlaced around the room. An orchestra had been hired and was playing softly in the corner. There were at least fifty people already here, mingling and chatting. They looked like a menagerie of exotically coloured birds in their costumes.

  It was St. Nicholas’s Day, the first day of Christmas. And it was their last night at Hill Lodge. The party was dispersing tomorrow. Alice felt a twinge of sadness. She had been having the time of her life here, and would miss everyone dearly.

  Nicholas had been a gracious and entertaining host, always coming up with activities to amuse them. Their ghost night, where they had all told ghost stories, had been hilarious. Another night, they had played charades. And during the day, they went on long walks, through the gardens.

  Silas had taken her on many. They would often wander out alone, talking about anything and everything. Once, they had stumbled across the painter Mr. Yates, set-up in a far corner with his easel and paints. Miss Arnold, his model, was standing in the near distance, totally naked, except for a white sheet draped over her body, rather in the manner of a toga, her white flesh covered in goosepimples.

  “How much longer?” she had moaned to the painter, in her broad Yorkshire accent. “I can barely feel my toes and fingers!”

  Mr. Yates sighed dramatically. “You must suffer for art, Harriet! Has no one ever told you this?”

  Harriet Arnold rolled her eyes, obviously not impressed by having to suffer for art’s sake.

  Alice and Silas had retreated hastily, trying not to disturb them. He had dragged her to a gazebo where they had shaken with suppressed laughter.

  “I think Miss Arnold wants to take the first carriage back to Sheffield,” whispered Silas. “I think being an artist’s model is not the glamorous life she envisaged.”

  “No, indeed,” whispered Alice. “She told me the other day that working in the milliner’s shop, embroidering bonnets until her eyes were sore, was preferable to Mr. Yates’s demands. He made her stand in a cold bath for four hours the other day, while he sketched.”

  “Poor thing,” whispered Silas, stepping closer. “I do not think Mr. Yates is quite the Prince Charming she was hoping.”

  “I feel sorry for her,” said Alice, in a quiet voice. “She is only trying to improve herself. It must be so hard, coming from a poor background…”

  “You know, that is what I like about you, Alice,” he said, gazing at her intently. “Your kindness, and your open mindedness. Most people would say that Harriet should go back to her position as a milliner’s assistant and be grateful for it. That she should know her place, and not try to improve herself.”

  Alice felt herself blushing. “We are all God’s creatures, after all. And I do not think myself better than anyone. It is only luck as to where we are born, and what position in society we hold.”

  His eyes had flickered over her face, admiringly. “Well said.”

  He had lifted a hand, then, slowly stroking her face, his touch as light as a feather. Her heart had started racing. And then, he was leaning closer to her, almost hypnotising her with those green eyes…

  But then they had heard people approaching and sprang away from each other abruptly. Alice felt embarrassed, quickly turning to see who it was. Nicholas, Major Unwin, Mrs. Unwin and Mr. Booth were walking in a group, chatting animatedly. As soon as Nicholas spied them, he waved.

  “Hello!” he called. “Will you join us? We are just setting up for a treasure hunt. The others will be following presently.”

  Silas had sighed deeply. She could tell by the tension in his body that he wasn’t happy about the interruption. But there was nothing they could do about it. They had reluctantly joined the others, but the memory of the moment stayed with Alice all afternoon, making her shiver with longing.

  He was walking towards her now across the ball room, peeling himself away from a group of people. Her heart suddenly somersaulted quite violently.

  He was dressed like a highwayman, all in black, with a long, velvet black cloak, and a black tricorne on his head. Long black leather boots. She felt a frisson of desire shudder through her body. He looked devilishly handsome.

  “My, my,” whispered Charlotte. “He makes a dashing robber, does he not?”

  Alice didn’t reply. She couldn’t.

  He bowed theatrically to them both. “My ladies. Your money, or your life.”

  They both laughed. “Please, sir, spare us,” said Alice, in a teasing voice. “We are just forlorn folk tale characters, wishing to go to the ball.”

  He straightened, his green eyes shining. “You both look magical.”

  A gentleman approached them, bowing. He fixed his eyes on Charlotte.

  “Would you care to dance?” he asked, his eyes shining. He was dressed in a minstrel’s outfit, looking rather like the Pied Piper.

  Charlotte laughed. “As long as you do not lead me astray with your flute, then the answer is yes!”

  They drifted off. Silas stared down at Alice.

  “You look truly amazing,” he whispered. “Like a fairy queen. I feel like you may lead me into a ring of mushrooms and out of this world entirely.” His eyes were warm as he beheld her.

  “Do not think that I shall not,” she whispered back. “I shall have my eye on you, to take back to my kingdom, if you displease me.”

  His face tightened. Suddenly, he leaned down, whispering in her ear.

  “I do not wish to displease you,” he said, his breath warm against her ear. “I will do anything that you desire. Shall we go for a walk, alone, later in the evening, after we have danced, my fairy queen?”

  Alice felt her blood start to pound in her ears. “How can I say no to such a request from a man who is holding me for ransom?” she whispered back.

  He laughed softly, gripping her waist with one hand. “I cannot wait,” he whispered urgently, before letting her go.

  Alice felt dizzy with desire. He picked up her hand, leading her to the dance floor. It felt like a dead weight, lying in his hand.

  **
*

  He danced with her twice. The first was a quadrille, and then a lively jig. Alice could barely concentrate. All she could think about was being alone with him. He led her off the dance floor, through the crowd, whispering to her softly the whole way. The feel of his hand on her waist as he guided her was heavy.

  Suddenly they were stopped by a strange vision. A man with a long, white beard and hair, wearing a bishop’s hat and gown, in red and white. His pale blue eyes were twinkling with mischief.

  “Dear Lord,” said Silas, laughing outright. “Is that my friend underneath all that?”

  “I am St. Nicholas, of course,” said Nicholas, bowing slightly. “The patron saint of Christmas. And my dear namesake, of course.”

  “Oh, well done,” said Alice admiringly. “I see now why you wanted to keep your costume a secret.”

  Nicholas laughed, causing his white moustache to flare slightly, as if a sudden wind had caught it. “It is rather hot in here,” he complained. “The gown is very heavy! Almost a tonne of tapestry. I have no idea how the princes of the church go about their daily business, in the least.” He paused. “And the beard scratches like netting.”

  “One must suffer for fashion,” said Silas, laughing. “It was your idea to have a costume ball, my friend.”

  “Indeed,” said Nicholas, a bit sourly.

  Suddenly Alice felt a presence behind her. She turned. It was Lucy Oakley, dressed like a harem girl in an Arabian-styled costume, her midriff exposed. Alice was shocked to see a bright red jewel attached to her navel. Or rather, sitting in it.

  Nicholas’s eyes widened in appreciation as he gazed at the lady, taking in the scantiness of her outfit. “Oh, I say,” he drawled. “You look rather delectable, Lucy. Do you have your magic carpet with you, so that we can fly away somewhere more…private?”

  They all laughed. Lucy stared at him, coquettishly.

  “I only have a short time before I must return to my lantern, sir,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. “Perhaps we should make haste.” She laughed.

  Nicholas grinned. “Well, that’s all the encouragement I need!” He took Lucy’s arm. “Shall we, my dear?”

  Lucy smiled without saying a word. They drifted away.

  Alice gazed after them, her heart swelling. They made a lovely couple. She had got to know Lucy better in her time here and was impressed with the lady. And she was sure that Nicholas and Lucy were falling in love. He often commandeered her and his eyes were always following her wherever she went.

  “Shall we take that walk that was promised?” asked a voice in her ear.

  Alice jumped, turning around to gaze at Silas. His green eyes were intent.

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “I think that it is time.”

  ***

  He led her out of the house into the cold night air. There were other couples walking the paths in the garden. A woman dressed like Marie Antoinette with a tall white wig, drifted by on the arm of a gentleman dressed like a French courtier of old. They inclined their heads but did not stop.

  Alice felt her heart thudding uncomfortably as he led her far away from the others, circling the paths. Down towards the spot where Mr. Yates had painted Harriet. Lanterns lit the paths, casting pools of light as they walked.

  He stopped abruptly, turning to her. “Alone at last.”

  She nodded, feeling a frisson of delight spread through her. “So we are.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then he took her hand, gazing into her eyes. “Alice…” his voice was low, and deep. “I have to tell you what is happening to me. How much I have relished, getting to know you over these days.” His eyes were intense. “All that is in my heart.”

  Her heart was racing now, and she could barely breathe.

  “I want to marry you,” he whispered. “I cannot stop thinking about you and dreaming of you. I hope that you feel the same.”

  She nodded. “I do, Silas. You must know how much I esteem you.”

  He swore softly under his breath. “Is it love that you feel for me? Because it is love that I feel for you, sweet Alice. It is like a revelation.” He paused, his breath catching in his throat. “I never believed that I could feel this way again about a woman. But you have healed me…you have opened me up again, to life.”

  She sobbed. “Yes, I love you. I have been falling in love with you from the moment that we met. But I was so scared that you would never love me back. That you could not love me, the way that I desired.”

  It felt so liberating to finally admit it.

  He bowed his head. “I admit that I have not been forthcoming with you and that I must speak of the past if we are to have the future that I desire.” He hesitated. “Will you listen to me, sweet Alice?”

  She nodded. They sat down on a bench. Eventually he turned to her, taking her hand.

  “Marina has consumed my life,” he said in a quiet voice. “The worry over what happened to her. The awful realisation that she is probably not alive anymore. I could not see through it at all.” He shuddered.

  She squeezed his hand. “It is natural that you would feel this way,” she said quietly. “You loved her and you were going to marry her. Of course it would consume you when you lost her in such a terrible way.”

  He nodded. “I am sorry that I could not speak of her to you before now,” he said slowly. “I tried, many times. But it was as if something was always stopping me.”

  “Do you still love her?” Alice felt her heart stop for a moment as she asked the question.

  He sighed deeply. “I was in love with her, very deeply. And up until a few weeks ago I thought that I would be in love with her for the rest of my life.” He paused. “You changed that, Alice. You have changed everything.”

  She breathed out, slowly, feeling her heart expand. This was all that she could have wished for. All that she had been praying for.

  “I do not love her anymore…not in that way,” he said in a quiet, pained voice. “A part of me shall always remember her with love, but it has shifted, like sand. I will always worry over what happened to her and wish it different that she had a life still to live. A future.” He paused, gazing at her intently. “But I do not want her to come between us, Alice. Please, tell me that you can live with this. The fact that I am a broken man, but am slowly healing, thanks to you.”

  “Of course I can,” she said fervently, squeezing his hand tighter. “I do not wish to change your past. I cannot change it.” She hesitated. “It has concerned me, though. Everywhere I go people whisper Marina’s name. It is as if she is haunting me, as if she is haunting us. I do not want to disrespect her, but I do not wish to live continually in her shadow either.”

  There. She had said it. She had unburdened herself, and it felt wonderful, like a knot had been loosened in her chest.

  Tears fell down her cheeks at the enormity of what they had just spoken. Hot, salty tears that seemed to cleanse her. She felt like she was shedding all of her worries about Marina and about Silas as they coursed down her face.

  “Please, do not cry,” he implored, turning to her and grabbing her by the shoulders. “The last thing that I want is to make you cry, my love.”

  And suddenly, without her even knowing how, they were embracing, and his lips were on hers, at long last.

  She had dreamt of this moment. But it was even better than she had ever imagined.