Lucy and her mother had simply smiled, as was proper for two ladies of breeding. The official announcement would be posted in the Gazette.
When the gowns were delivered earlier in the week Lucy was coerced into trying a few on. Even she had to admit the Great Harry DeVent outdid himself. She felt more confident and beautiful in his dresses, but that didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want tonight to happen.
It wasn’t that she disliked the Earl of Westington. He was nice enough, even handsome, and a dear friend. Dashel was tall, with deep brown hair that was styled in the modern fashion. His eyes were a creamy chocolate. He had a strong jawline and stood like a man filled with self-assurance. Lucy knew all the eligible ladies would be vying for his attention, and she knew they would instantly hate her when they found out he was already taken.
All of the Earl’s qualities meant little to Lucy, because despite Dashel’s merits, she didn’t love him, at least not the way she believed a wife should love her husband. It was plain and simple. He was a dear friend and had been for many years. They played together as children. He tugged on her hair when she was little. They went riding together when she was twelve and thirteen, and he even taught her to play cards last summer.
Dashel felt the same way about Lucy. Their parents were forcing them into a marriage for their own selfish purposes. The horrid circumstance burned her up inside.
“It just isn’t fair. Why can’t I love who I want, when I want?” She found herself tightening her fists around a soft lavender gown with pink rosettes all along the rounded collar.
2
A LADY OF BREEDING
Harriet rescued the material from Lucy’s hands, hanging it back in the closet. “The Earl of Westington is very handsome,” she said meekly.
Lucy turned in time to see a slight blush creep up her maid’s lovely cheeks. She smiled. “Yes, he is. But we don’t love each other. Surely you can understand why I’m vexed.”
Her maid lowered her eyes. “If’n I may be so bold, my mum says sometimes love must be pruned and managed, that it takes time for a great love to grow.”
Lucy pressed her lips together. “I appreciate the sentiment, but Dashel and I have had years to develop feelings for each other. It hasn’t happened.” Not even close. Marrying him would be like marrying her brother.
“Beg pardon, Miss.” Harriet picked up another gown, this one in fuchsia, and put it away.
Lucy wanted to marry for love. She wanted what her grandmother, the Countess of Polenska had with her husband, God rest his soul. Lucy didn’t remember much about her grandfather and her mother wouldn’t speak of him, but all Lucy had to do was look at her grandmother to know she still carried around an abiding love in her heart.
“Lucy, the guests are arriving,” Ellen said from the doorway. Ellen was Lucy’s younger sister. At fourteen she seemed much wiser than Lucy in some ways. “Mother wants you to hurry.”
Lucy exhaled. The inevitable couldn’t be put off any longer. “Which gown should I wear?” she asked Ellen, slumping onto her bed. Ellen possessed great fashion sense. Not like Lucy. Most of the time she wished she could wear trousers the way men did.
“I like this one,” Ellen said, picking up a gown with an empire waist. It was made of ivory silk and adorned with tiny blush pink flowers. The rounded collar was lined with matching pink velvet and the short sleeves were puffed with intricate detail. A thick pink ribbon cupped under the bodice and tied in the back. It was simple, elegant and pretty. Decidedly not what the other girls would be wearing. But according to the Great Harry DeVent, the high waistline would take Lucy to the height of fashion, making her the envy of every young lady. Lucy thought the low collar and the high waist slightly vulgar, but her mother insisted she wear them.
“A lovely choice,” Lucy said, knowing any of the dresses would do. Ellen and Harriet helped her slip it over her head. She tugged it over her underclothes. “Will you fasten it?” she asked Ellen, knowing her sister liked to help.
“Of course.” Ellen pulled the fabric together and fastened the buttons. Then tied the ribbon. “You look exquisite.”
“It really is delectable, isn’t it?” Lucy responded, admiring the way the dress fell against her body. She waited for Harriet to give her opinion, but the girl was busy hanging up the dressed Lucy put on the bed.
“Now if we can do something with your mop of hair, I’ll feel truly sorry for the other girls attending your ball tonight. No one will even notice them,” Ellen added.
“I don’t know about that,” Lucy said, but she appreciated the compliment. She sat in front of her dressing table. The lamp flickered, casting shadows against the wall.
Lucy checked her reflection. Her hair had been tied in rags the night before. The effect of all the white twisted in her hair did kind of make her head look like a mop. “My hair is not a mop.”
“Is too,” Ellen argued.
Lucy stuck out her tongue. Ellen reciprocated. And then they both giggled as Ellen worked on removing the rags from Lucy’s hair.
Harriet came over. “Would you like me to do that, Miss Ellen?”
“No, but I appreciate you asking. Why don’t you take a break?” Ellen was very strong-minded. She believed in equal rights and didn’t like to have the maids do anything for her. She was also a twin. Her twin’s name was Beaufort, though he went by Beau. He was born four minutes ahead of Ellen and loved to rub her nose in the fact that he was older. They both had light brown hair like their mother’s, along with storm gray eyes, and freckled skin, the same as their father.
Ellen shook her head as she made quick work of the rags. Lucy watched her in the mirror, studying their differences. Ellen was already taller than Lucy, as was Beaufort.
When the rags were all out, Ellen brushed through Lucy’s curls, loosening them. “So beautiful,” she said, pinning Lucy’s hair in a bun at the base of her neck. Once her hair was secure, Ellen pulled some tendrils of hair on either side of Lucy’s face. “Pinch your cheeks and you’ll look perfect.”
Lucy pinched and then applied a bit of color to her lips.
“Let’s put some of Dashel’s flowers in your hair.” Ellen went over to the large bouquet Lucy received from him earlier in the day. The note that came with them said: Here’s to eighteen more.
At the thought of Dashel’s cheeky comment, Lucy smiled. “That would be nice, but only use the daisies. Those are my favorite.”
Ellen cut the daisies and arranged them in Lucy’s bun. She came around and checked her work. “You look wonderful,” she squealed, clapping her hands.
“Thanks to you.” Lucy gave herself a quick once over as Harriet brought over her matching ivory white slippers. Lucy put them on. “Do you think I should wear a necklace?” Lucy eyed the pearls hanging to her left.
“No, you look beautiful just as you are.”
“Your gloves, Miss. And your fan,” Harriet added, holding them out for Lucy to take.
Lucy pulled on the long ivory white gloves. Then she took the fan. “Thank you, Harriet.”
Her maid blushed and bobbed a curtsy. “Anything for you, Miss.”
“I guess we better get downstairs.”
Ellen smiled as she slipped a hand into the crook of Lucy’s elbow. “It might be the best night of your life, you know.”
Lucy didn’t argue, but she thought it exceedingly unlikely.
3
TONGUE WAGGING
Her sister clutched her arm as they entered the ballroom. Thousands of candles lit the lively room, which was already close to overflowing though the fashionably late had yet to arrive. People were talking and laughing. Some danced. Others sat at tables, sipping lemon ice.
“Mother will be pleased with the turnout,” Lucy said, steadying herself. The room was overly warm, even with the floor to ceiling windows open. Lucy watched the gauzy white curtains sway like apparitions in the slight breeze.
The musicians started to play a lively waltz, introducing a new set. Couples made
their way to the middle of the floor and began to move.
Ellen squeezed Lucy’s arm. “I’d better go. Father will pop a button if he sees me here.” She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t think I’m ready, but blast it, I am.”
Lucy patted her sister’s hand. “You’re more ready than I. Want to take my place?”
Ellen blushed, giving her freckled face a burst of beautiful color. “If only I could.” With that she made her way back up the stairs.
Lucy scanned the room, searching the faces of the older couples for her mother and father. She found them speaking with Dashel’s parents. By the brightness of the men’s faces it appeared the discussion was heated. Or they both had too much to drink.
A servant carrying a platter of sparkling drinks walked by and Lucy took one to sip as she walked the room. The women in pale dresses and men in their finest coats reminded Lucy of a painting. She also didn’t recognize a single person outside hers or Dashel’s families.
“Anyone catch your eye, Miss Channing?” Dashel gently touched Lucy’s elbow, getting her attention.
She smiled as she stopped and turned, happy to see him. “Dashel,” she whispered, knowing that use of proper names was an impropriety until they were officially engaged.
Dashel bowed. “At your service.”
He did look incredibly handsome tonight in his deerskin colored trousers with black knee high boots, a white shirt, and a navy jacket, the buttons bearing his family’s coat of arms. The entire ensemble emphasized his broad shoulders, straight posture, and most importantly, his status. His short hair was styled to perfection tonight and his brown eyes glowed with mischief.
“I have a present for you.”
Lucy raised her gaze to meet his. “But you already gave me the lovely flowers.”
Dashel’s smile grew wide. “I noticed the daisies in your hair.” He came closer. “If I may be so bold, you are divine.”
Lucy resisted the urge to smack him on the arm. He was teasing, as was his way with her. “So are you,” she returned from behind her fan.
He winked. “The gossips already have their tongues wagging. The men are placing bets on how long it’ll be before the announcement is placed in the Gazette and the women are shooting daggers at us both.” He chuckled lightly. “Well, mostly at you, I’m afraid.” He sipped his drink.
“No they aren’t.” Lucy scanned the room. The music still played but many of the dancers stopped and whispered to each other, as did those along the edges. Even their parents stopped talking and watched them. “Why aren’t you upset? You don’t want to marry me anymore than I wish to marry you.”
Dashel raised an eyebrow, about to say something, but the Lord and Lady of Cartwright came over. “Dashel, my boy,” he said, clapping him on the back.
Dashel straightened. “Good to see you, Wendell.”
Lady Cartwright patted her husband on the arm and gave Dashel a stern look.
“May I present Miss Lucy Channing? This ball is in honor of her birthday,” Dashel said.
Lucy curtsied as she held out her hand. Lord Cartwright took it and bowed. “A pleasure,” he said.
Dashel continued, “Miss Channing, I am pleased to introduce Lord and Lady Cartwright.”
“It’s good to meet you. Thank you for attending my ball. It’s an honor.” Lucy noticed the way Lady Cartwright appraised her slightly lower cut dress with disdain. She saw that same look many times from her own mother when judging other women. Instead of letting her insecurities show, Lucy pushed back her shoulders making her already pronounced endowments appear even larger.
Lord Cartwright’s eyes roamed over her briefly before Lady Cartwright swatted his arm.
“Well, I never,” Lady Cartwright said, tugging her husband away.
Dashel burst out laughing. “You are going to make lots of friends, my dear Miss Channing.”
Lucy found her mother’s disapproving gaze. Lucy pursed her lips in irritation. It was difficult knowing she was supposed to save her family. It was her duty. Sighing inwardly, she said, “After they find out I’m taking you off the market they’ll despise me anyway.”
“Very true,” Dashel admitted.
A throng of couples paraded around the room, making their way over to Lucy and Dashel. She was cordial. Dashel was ever the proper gentlemen. After an hour, Dashel bumped her shoulder lightly. “Would you care to dance, Miss Channing? Out there we’ll be watched, but at least we won’t be interrupted.”
Lucy nodded. Dashel took her glass and placed it next to his on a tray. When he returned, he stuck out his arm. Lucy placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her.
Dashel bowed. She curtsied. Then he took her in his arms and twirled her around the dance floor. His hold on her was firm and confident. Lucy held her head up, keeping her back straight and her shoulders squared as she was taught. Dashel was a fine partner. “You’re very good at this,” Lucy commented. It wasn’t her first time dancing with him though it’d been many years. They practiced more than once with each other when she was eleven or twelve. During those rehearsals his arms and legs had been too big for his body. Now though he’d grown into them. Lucy could feel his strong, well-sculpted biceps under his fitted jacket.
“You doubted me?”
Lucy laughed, lowering her gaze. “I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re absolutely right. I’m incredible at everything I do.” He came in close. “I’ve been told even my kisses are perfection.”
At that Lucy blushed. “You’re flirting.” She glanced at her parents. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. What happens after the wedding when we have to start producing heirs?” She knew she was speaking boldly and that her mother would die of mortification if she heard, but this was important. The idea of kissing Dashel didn’t spark her heart. In fact she had never felt the spark her romance books talked about. Yet their parents were forcing Lucy to marry Dashel and have his children. It frustrated her. She couldn’t understand why it didn’t bother him.
Dashel’s features became serious. “Lucy, it’s true. I’m not in love with you, but I hold you in very high affection. I would even call it love. You’re a fine woman, with lovely birthing hips.”
Lucy gasped, her cheeks getting hot. It appalled her to realize he considered her hips at all. “Birthing hips? If we weren’t in public, I’d sock you in the arm. Hard.”
Dashel threw his head back and laughed. “According to Father, birthing hips are quite important.” He winked. “Beyond that, you’re smart, caring, beautiful, and I enjoy your company above all others.”
Lucy swallowed. She enjoyed his company above all others as well.
Dashel went on. “We can talk, laugh, and even have a conversation that doesn’t end in you requesting a bauble.” He squeezed her hands. “Other than your very unfeminine love of tinkering, I believe you are an excellent match. Marrying you suits me just fine.”
Lucy was shocked. She opened her mouth to speak but Dashel continued, “I know you don’t love me either and I wish things were different, but this is just how things are done.” He glanced down at their fingers clasped together. “Can you tolerate me for as long as we both shall live?”
Lucy closed her mouth. He was honoring his family, doing his duty as the future Earl of Westington. She couldn’t fault him for that. In fact she respected him a great deal. Finally she met his eyes. “Dashel, you are wonderful, and you deserve a woman who will love and appreciate you for all that you are.”
Dashel smirked.
“It’s sad we are being forced to wed one another when our true loves are out there somewhere. What will happen to them? Our marriage will force them to settle as well.” Dashel made a move to speak but Lucy hurried on, “And yes, of course I’ll tolerate you, more than tolerate. I’ll enjoy our time together for as long as we both shall live, but we could have so much more.” Lucy leaned in. “You deserve so much more. And so do I.” She tapped his hand. “Also, I don’t tinker, I invent. There’s a diffe
rence.”
Dashel’s smile was brilliant. “You’re a remarkable person, Miss Channing.”
“As are you, Mr. Rothchild.”
The set ended and the two of them walked over to their parents. Lucy knew they would announce the engagement soon and her heart ached with unfulfilled longing.
Where are you? Lucy thought, searching the crowd for the man she should be marrying instead of Dashel. But he wasn’t there. She could sense it. Of all the men in the room Dashel was the best fit, the most perfect for her, by far. But they weren’t meant to be together. She could sense that too.
“Dear, what are you doing?” her mother asked.
“Admiring the gorgeous gowns,” Lucy lied.
“Yours is the finest by far.”
Her father and Dashel’s parents all agreed.
“Thank you,” Lucy said.
“Before you wreck my Lucy’s life forever, I need to speak with her.” Lucy’s grandmother spoke as she shuffled over. She wasn’t as quick as she used to be. Her grandmother had aged much more quickly that seemed appropriate, particularly in the last decade.
“Grandmother,” Lucy said, reaching out and hugging her. Her grandmother returned the hug but only briefly. They were in public after all. If there was privacy, her grandmother, the Countess of Polenska, would have hugged her tightly and kissed both cheeks.
Lucy’s mother barely acknowledged the countess’s presence, turning her attention to others in the room. The men fawned over her though. Lady Agatha was lively and quick as a whip. She was also stunning, even at sixty-five. She was short, like Lucy, and willowy too. Wrinkles lined her face, but Lucy thought they made her look wise. Her dress was bright red as were her lips. Her hair was pulled up and pinned into a sweeping S at the nape of her neck. Lucy loved the gray streak that started at the middle of her forehead and ran the length of her chestnut brown hair. She thought it was beautiful. Her grandmother was beautiful. Inside and out. Around her neck was the heart-shaped locket she always wore.
Goddess Curse Page 2