“I believe we are engaged for the next dance, Lady Madalene.”
“Indeed we are, my lord.” She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the middle of the floor. While they waited for the music to start, she endured his intense scrutiny, which left her feeling more than simply inadequate. Perhaps it was just that she wasn’t used to having someone tower over her, but more likely, it was that his behavior was highly inappropriate. She felt a certain kinship with museum exhibits, which were often subject to excessive study. If, of course, they had the ability to experience such feelings.
“Lady Madalene, may I be so bold as to ask your age?”
That was rather bold. “I am two and twenty, my lord.”
His eyes widened. “How is it that you have not already married?”
Not only was he confident, but extremely rude as well. Though he might appear attractive at first glance, there was something in his countenance she found quite unsettling. “I’m sure I don’t know, my lord.”
After looking her up and down—as much as was possible while dancing—he said, “You are exceedingly tall for a woman, though of course that means you would be able to produce large boys. Presumably, they would have more meat on their bones than you.” He glanced pointedly at her admittedly small breasts.
Outraged, she opened her mouth to respond and sucked in too large a breath, causing her to cough. After her fit ended, she decided it would be better to simply not respond to inappropriate questions as she would definitely draw the attention of others with the retorts she would like to give him, which would assuredly include the administration of bodily harm.
Undaunted, he continued with his onslaught of inappropriate questions. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Three sisters and two brothers.” She didn’t even attempt to sound polite in her response.
“Where do you fall in the birth order?”
“I am the oldest.”
“I don’t suppose any of your siblings are married then.”
She forced a single word from her clenched jaw. “No.”
“I suppose I shall have to base your potential for producing sons solely on the success of your parents.”
Good heavens, would this dance never end? She might be forced to feign an illness or injury to get away from this man.
“You aren’t a great beauty, so we would have to hope we produce no girls together.”
Just as she lifted her foot to administer a swift kick to his shin, the music stopped. She disengaged from him at once. Sketching a shallow curtsey, she turned and all but ran from him, not in the least bit bothered by the fact that she hadn’t allowed him to lead her back to her mother.
A quick search revealed her at the back of the ballroom near the balcony. Madalene waited impatiently for Mama to finish her conversation with Lady Cupton. Anne had already been claimed for the next dance, but Madalene gestured toward the balcony, and Anne winked at her before turning back to her partner.
While she concentrated on proper posture and remaining still so as to not attract any more attention to herself, she glanced onto the balcony and gardens beyond, where the ballroom had been extended. Though the ballroom was lovely with ivy and wildflowers spread across every available surface to evoke the atmosphere of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the gardens were magnificent, as if a fairy had visited and left twinkling torches and oil lamps dotting the landscape to illuminate the path to a secret hideaway.
She turned back to Mama, who was still listening to Lady Cupton prattle on about some issue with her household staff. “Mama, may I please step out onto the balcony? Anne will be joining me shortly.”
After a quick glance out one of the sash windows that had been fully opened to allow access to the balcony, she nodded. “Stay close to the house where I can see you until Anne comes.”
At last she made her escape, not caring about the opportunities she might miss within the ballroom to find a suitor. The outdoors beckoned to her.
Following all of the hideousness that had occurred in the ballroom, the balcony and gardens seemed a magical escape. After that dismal beginning, Madalene was certain her solitary tour of the gardens would be the pinnacle of her evening. There simply were no unmarried men who interested her. Perhaps if she could convince Papa to allow her one more season, she might find a match with one of the many soldiers who would soon be returning to England now that the war had finally ended. She circled the balcony, noting the candles hanging in the trees, the song of the crickets, and the music from the ballroom drifting softly in the breeze.
A large tree with long, overhanging branches sat just below the balcony, twinkling with fireflies. The branches were restless in the light breeze, playing their own soft song, drawing her into the gardens. Remembering Mama’s words, she glanced back toward the ballroom. There was enough light spilling over from the balcony to illuminate the area, so surely it was fine for her to wander a bit, and besides, Anne should be joining her shortly. As she approached the tree, she reached above her head and touched the silky end of a leaf. A placard proclaimed it a wish tree.
Touching her hand to the bark of the trunk, she circled the tree, letting the variations in the smooth surface tickle her palm as she considered what she should wish for. As she deliberated, she noticed that everyone on the balcony was streaming back into the ballroom. Likely there was to be some sort of announcement about the victory at Waterloo. In any case, she wanted to make her wish before returning to the ball.
Deciding she could finally put her height to good use, she circled the tree a second time, choosing a location on the side furthest from the house. Stretching onto her tip toes, she leaned toward the tree, but her right foot hit a large root and her ankle twisted as she lost her balance. She tumbled to the ground and rolled underneath the edge of a row of shrubbery.
Lying flat on the ground, she looked up at the underside of the bushes. Her position was a reminder that she should never make the assumption that her situation couldn’t possibly become worse. She held her breath, thinking that anyone who saw her would come to her aid. After a few moments, she allowed herself to relax. Everyone must have gone inside, which suited her. Lifting her chin slightly allowed her a topsy-turvy glance of her surroundings, which were quite lovely. Since no one appeared to have noticed her gaff, she decided to stay where she was as it afforded an excellent, albeit upside down, view of the gardens that stretched into the darkness beyond.
Chapter Three
Lord Duncan Alstead strode with purpose through the gardens toward the balcony, which was strangely deserted after having been so crowded a short time ago. Though he would almost prefer being flayed to participating in the night’s festivities, he had no choice. His cousin’s death had forced him to become a part of this world of the ton whether he liked it or not. He could not hide in the garden forever.
Though he was elated by the victory at Waterloo, he did not see it as a cause for celebration. His memories of battle were still too vivid to celebrate any aspect of the war. What would the men from his regiment think if they knew of his cowardice in facing society? What would they say about him hiding from his responsibilities whilst they had defeated Napoleon?
He glanced up as he approached the balcony and halted abruptly. Was that a foot sticking out from under the shrubbery? From where he was standing he couldn’t be sure, so he continued toward the balcony and took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching before kneeling to investigate further. Sure enough, he was presented with the sole of a ladies’ dance slipper. Torchlight flickered over the gold silk fabric draped across the top of the shoe.
Not bothering to stand, he walked like a duck around the edge of the hedgerow to ascertain the status of the owner of the slipper. He forced a flashback of searching for the dead on the battlefield firmly out of his head.
“May I be of service?” he asked the owner of the foot.<
br />
She startled. “How did you see me?”
He let out his pent up breath, relieved that his mysterious discovery was alive. “Did you think yourself invisible? Your foot is protruding from the other side of the hedgerow.”
She released a huge sigh. “That figures. I can’t even hide properly.”
This was certainly the oddest conversation he’d ever held. Hide from what? “Are you injured?”
“I twisted my ankle when I fell, but I doubt there’s any permanent damage. Though I haven’t attempted to stand yet. The view from here is quite appealing.”
He glanced over her to the gardens he had just left. “It is even more beautiful when viewed right side up.”
She pushed up onto her elbows and met his eyes. “Staying here seemed preferable to returning to the party, but I suppose I cannot delay forever.”
That was a sentiment he could agree with.
“Let me help you up.” He stood and clasped both of her hands, pulling her up into a standing position. Though she was but a mere two inches shorter than he, she was quite light and he had exerted enough pressure to propel her against his chest. A hint of jasmine emanated from her.
“Ooof.”
Biting back a grin, he said, “How is your ankle?”
“A bit tender, perhaps, but I shall persevere.”
“Nonsense.” Before he could think too much about it, he swept her up into his arms and carried her down the staircase into the gardens.
“You must put me down at once. I’m much too large to carry. You’ll injure yourself.”
“Nonsense. You are tall, but not at all heavy.” In fact, the delicate bones of her shoulder blades protruded against his arm. He carried her away from the house, searching for a place where he could check her injury without fear of being caught alone with her.
“Shouldn’t you be carrying me toward the house rather than away from it?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He stalled, hoping to delay the inevitable moment when she demanded he return her to the ballroom, the place where neither of them seemed to want to be.
“Very well. Were you planning to introduce yourself before you kill me then?”
He tripped and nearly tossed her to the ground. “I beg your pardon.”
“Are you not taking me into the woods to kill me? It would almost be a relief.”
She was a very strange girl. He turned into the secluded alcove he had abandoned not long ago and set her gently atop a bench.
“May I?” he asked, tilting his head toward her foot.
“It’s quite inappropriate for me to allow you to see my ankle. Then again, I should never have been alone on the balcony. Or have allowed you to carry me. Go ahead.” She waved her hand in acquiescence.
She was quite correct, of course, but nevertheless, he knelt next to her and slipped off her shoe. He ran his hands over her ankle, which did not appear to be swollen or unduly tender. “What makes you think I’m going to kill you?”
“Why else would you bring me out here instead of taking me back to the ballroom?”
He slid the slipper back onto her foot, allowing his fingers to linger at her finely turned ankle. “I can think of quite a few reasons, all of them more scintillating than murdering you.” Clearly she was an innocent if her first thought wasn’t debauchery. More pity, that.
“Which are?” she asked.
“You did hint that you were hiding from someone. Or something.”
She turned away. “Yes, I suppose I did.”
There was such sadness in her voice. “There are many other possibilities.”
“Such as?”
He removed his hand from her ankle and stood, then pulled her up against him. “Such as this.” He leaned close, testing her, assuming she would retreat, but instead, her lips parted and a soft sigh escaped. Fire sparked within him and without thinking overmuch, he pressed his lips to hers. Not wanting to frighten her, he kept the kiss chaste, with barely a sweep of his tongue across her lower lip before he pulled back.
She blinked a few times and swallowed. “Oh.”
He raised his brows and waited for her to continue.
“That’s what you meant by scintillate.”
“Exactly.” Her face was precisely the right shade of just-been-kissed that made him want to kiss her all over again. Instead, he decided on a more appropriate activity for a ball.
“If your ankle is not too tender, would you care to dance, my lady?”
“I suppose so.” She frowned.
That wasn’t quite the response he had hoped for. “I don’t wish to force you. Perhaps we should head back to the ballroom.”
“But that’s just it. I’d rather not go back to the ballroom yet.”
Now understanding the source of her reluctance, he held his hand out to her. “It’s not necessary to go back to the ballroom to dance. Shall we?”
Her nose crinkled in a most diverting manner, then she placed her hand in his. “How will we dance without music?”
“If you listen carefully, you can just hear the notes of a waltz drifting along in the breeze.” He pulled her close once again, thinking he might easily become addicted to holding her, and swung her into the dance.
Chapter Four
Madalene ought to be ashamed of her behavior. She should demand to be escorted back to her mother at once. But she didn’t. Her hero hummed along with the music, the soft vibration from his throat calming her as effectively as Oliver’s purr. They weren’t dancing so much as rocking back and forth together, but she would be pleased to stay in his arms forever. Was it so wrong for her to pretend for a few moments that she was Cinderella being rescued by her prince?
He held her more closely than was seemly, and she found so much comfort in his arms she laid her head against his shoulder, pushing all of her worries to the back of her mind. Not once did he ask her an inappropriate question, step on her foot, or make her feel uncomfortable about herself. His arms tightened around her and they continued their dance long after the music had stopped, existing in their own world in their secluded patch of the gardens.
Footsteps crunching against the gravel caused them to separate rapidly. If they were seen he would be forced to marry her. She took her hero’s hand in hers and led him down a long path away from the balcony and the lights. Though she had no idea where she was leading him, she was certain she did not yet wish to return to the ballroom. Surely their magical evening would crumble amid the bright light of the ballroom and the lofty expectations of society. They continued on in silence, not stopping until they happened upon a tiny dwelling that looked like a miniature reproduction of a crofter’s cottage.
“I believe we may have stumbled upon the home of Shakespeare’s elves.”
Madalene smiled at his quip. Were it not for the full moon, she would not have been able to see him at all this far away from the house.
He glanced away from her as his face colored. “My younger sisters are fond of acting out plays.”
She could not contain her grin when a vision of him acting out his part formed in her mind. She turned back to the cottage. “If they are here, they must be sleeping.” The knob turned under her hand, so she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
She was immediately lifted by a steely arm wrapped around her middle. “You must allow me to ascertain if there is any danger,” he whispered in her ear.
“We’ve made enough noise to wake the dead, but by all means, feel free to enter first.” Her words were at odds with the strange feeling of tenderness that rose up inside of her. Aside from Mama, no one had ever shown much attention to her safety or wellbeing.
A clunk followed by several whispered expletives sounded from the cottage. Madalene slapped a hand over her mouth to hold in her giggles and stepped through the doorway. Her savior moved about the room, opening the shu
tters to let in the moonlight while crouching low to avoid banging his head a second time. A quick glance around revealed that they were in a children’s playhouse.
“I assume that subdued cackle indicates that you are pleased we are both now sporting injuries.”
“My amusement was more over the expletives you chose than your injury. I should be more concerned if it were anywhere other than your head.”
He rubbed the spot in question, glaring at her through narrowed eyes. “I take back what I said about the elves. This cottage was clearly made for Lilliputians.”
So her hero not only playacted with his sisters, but he had read Gulliver’s Travels as well. Her torture was complete. She ought to return to the ball before her mother began a search for her and they were caught. But she couldn’t bear to part from him. Not yet. It was as if she had stumbled into her own fairy tale and she wasn’t ready for it to end. “I believe it is more likely that it was a play house for His Grace’s children, all of whom are now grown.”
He nodded. “I suppose that would make more sense, but it’s not nearly as intriguing.”
She smoothed the gown of a dusty baby doll left forgotten in a cradle. “You would prefer to be staked to the ground, then?”
He studied a drawing of the garden tacked to the wall. “An attack by the Lilliputians is preferable to returning to the ball.”
“I cannot argue with that. I wish I could stay here in this cottage forever.” She could see no reason why he would want to avoid society. She had already discerned that he was uncommonly tall and sturdy, but the bright moonlight revealed the strong planes of his face set off by startlingly blue eyes, and thick, dark hair. He would undoubtedly be sought after by all of the ladies. “Why don’t you want to go back to the ball? I imagine you won’t have any trouble finding dance partners.”
“Finding dance partners isn’t the problem. It’s finding partners I actually want to dance with that causes the trouble.”
Surely he wasn’t the sort of man who would have ignored her had they met in the ballroom. She rather hoped he was the sort who would seek out the wallflowers. “Perhaps you are being too selective.”
20150618 A Midsummer Night's Kiss epub final Page 27