by Tessa Candle
“Now you go back to the ball and find the earl.” Tilly grinned. “Try to enjoy yourself. I shall keep a discreet eye on Miss Delacroix.”
It was difficult for Lydia to pry herself away. She was more than a little curious about what Miss Delacroix would get up to next. It was surely a disastrously stupid scheme, but it was fascinating. Was Tilly's influence really corrupting Lydia after all?
She entered the refreshment room, accepted a glass of champagne and drank it more quickly than was entirely proper as she scanned the adjacent ballroom. She procured another glass and continued to inspect the occupants as she walked into the ballroom, but she could not see the earl.
The dance floor was clearing and the orchestra was making ready. Lydia suddenly spied Miss Ferrel among the flocks of milling guests, and thanked heaven for a friendly face. She made her way through the crowd, examining the people around her. No sign of Lord Aldley.
“Miss Norwood! Lovely to see you again.” Miss Ferrel looked very fetching in her canary and cream ensemble. “I was beginning to think I might not get a chance to greet you.”
“I am most happy to see you here, Miss Ferrel.” Lydia was completely sincere. “It is a relief to meet someone from my acquaintance. If I had known you would be here, I believe I should not have felt half so anxious about attending such a grand affair.”
“I was invited rather last minute,” Miss Ferrel grinned, “but was very thankful for the inclusion. I have it from Miss Stokes, Miss Dreydon and Miss Dervish that they were also invited, though I have not yet seen them. I have never been in a private ballroom this size. There are so many people.”
Miss Ferrel looked around her and then continued, “We were all quite surprised by the invitation. I see you have changed your dress.”
“Indeed—did you see my white gown before Miss Delacroix spilled her claret on it?” Lydia tried not to scowl.
“Ah, Miss Delacroix you say? She spilled her wine on you? That explains why you left so swiftly, before I could make my way to you.”
“Quite.” Lydia tried not to clench her jaw. That detestable schemer would get what was coming to her. She would find a way to see to it.
“She certainly made straight for you with some determination. But I have not seen her since.”
“Hmm.” Lydia thought she should add some levity, lest she reveal her true wrath. “Well, I am not entirely certain I wish to see her further, unless she constrains herself to champagne.”
Miss Ferrel laughed. “But did you know that Lord Aldley was looking for you?”
Lydia's heart leapt. “Lord Aldley? No I did not.”
“I did not see his lordship for long, either, come to think of it. Everyone seems to be disappearing this evening.” Miss Ferrel looked a little puzzled. “I saw him step outside not long ago, but I thought he would surely return after he had taken some air.”
“Did he go into the gardens?” Lydia wondered if she should go looking for him.
“No, out to the entranceway. In fact, he seemed rather determined as well. Now that I think of it, there are a lot of serious faces, for it being an evening of pleasure.” Miss Ferrel smiled and shook her head.
Lydia became self-conscious. “I am sorry. I believe mine must be one of those faces. Only I have started things off on rather an evil foot.”
“Miss Ferrel, will you not introduce me to your charming friend?” A grand-looking man, wearing a cream evening jacket with black velvet lapels and a vast collection of sparkling rings that encircled almost every finger, arrived suddenly before them.
“Your grace.” Miss Ferrel bowed. “May I present my friend, Miss Norwood. Miss Norwood, this is His Grace, the Duke of Grendleridge.”
She was rather impressed that Miss Ferrel was acquainted with a duke. Lydia had certainly never spoken to one, herself, and she had expected that any duke would be far too superior to wish to meet her.
He was an older gentleman with a kindly face and a look of merriment about his eyes.
Lydia took a liking to him immediately. She remembered to bow deeply. “Your grace, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“The pleasure is all mine. So what are you two gossiping about over here, or is it a great secret, not to be disclosed to strange old fellows who intrude?”
“No gossip, your grace.” Miss Ferrel immediately joined in the levity. “We are far too virtuous for that. Though I admit that we were rather impudently wondering about the whereabouts of a gentleman who is our superior.”
“One in particular,” he winked, “or were you asking yourself, in a general way, whether or not such a man might be found in an assembly such as this?”
“No, indeed!” Lydia could not help laughing, even as she blushed. “Miss Ferrel only means that Lord Aldley was here earlier, and we were pondering where his lordship might have gone, for he has been away some time now. I hope that is not so very bad of us, your grace.”
“Not so very bad? Aye, I suppose I have seen worse characters about town—though only a very few. But I am surprised to hear that Aldley has left his mother's ball. Are you certain he is not just taking some air?”
“That is what I thought, at first, your grace. But his lordship went out the front entrance, not into the gardens.” Miss Ferrel gestured at the doorway. “I have not seen him return.”
“No, I have not seen him recently, either.” The duke rubbed his chin. “And he did quit our conversation rather abruptly, earlier. I had thought it was to talk to you, Miss Ferrel.”
“In fact, we only spoke briefly. His lordship was looking for Miss Norwood, it seems.” Miss Ferrel's lips curved into the perfectly bland smile of an ingénue.
“Ah.” The duke raised one brow. “And did he find you, Miss Norwood?”
“Unfortunately, no, your grace.” Lydia tried not to look as unhappy about the fact as she felt.
“Hmm. That is most intriguing.” The duke played with one of his rings.
“She had left to change her dress, after another guest spilled red wine on it, you see, your grace.”
“What?! Which young clod-hopper spilled wine on you?” The duke's chest puffed out slightly as he looked about the room for the offender.
“It was Miss Delacroix, your grace. I am sure it was an accident.” It pained Lydia to speak this falsehood, but it seemed socially necessary.
“Hmm.” He examined Lydia. “This is a very pretty dress, in any case.”
“It is most kind of your grace to say so.”
The duke twisted a ring around his finger a few times, then said, “I had thought of asking one of you to stand up with me, but I now find that I should much rather take some air. Would you two grant an old man the pleasure of your company for a turn outside—through the front way?”
“It is a little unconventional, but I should never disoblige you, your grace.” Miss Ferrel allowed her arm to be taken.
“Unconventional certainly, but we are only following the earl's example. And in any case, I find dukes rarely get reprimanded for being unconventional.” He pursed his lips into a comically supercilious smirk.
“I shall gladly oblige your grace. I find myself quite in need of a turn outside.” Lydia liked the duke better by the minute.
He led them, one on each arm, toward the front doors, which were opened with bows and silence by the two doormen. As they stepped outside, the damp, cool air went straight through the silk of Lydia's gown. Her teeth chattered a little.
“I say, look there! That woman's hair looks just like yours.” The duke was staring toward a carriage parked nearby.
Lydia gasped as she saw a woman in her white gown, sporting what she knew to be a wig, disappearing into the door of the carriage. Miss Delacroix. Why had she entered that carriage?
“That is rather odd, do you not think? That there should be two of you with the same hair—colour and style and everything?” He pursed his lips.
“Yes. Very odd.” Lydia's heart was beating in her throat. Her stomach clenched int
o a ball of dread. Could Lord Aldley be in that carriage? Had the scheming little witch got her way at last? And here stood a duke witnessing this compromise of the tart's ostensible virtue.
Lydia groaned internally. She was a great fool. Why had she not run out of the ball to find him as soon as she had heard he had left? Why had she listened to Tilly? Why had they not locked Miss Delacroix in that room, or knocked her senseless, instead of letting her continue with her scheme?
A servant, previously not visible from his position on the other side of the carriage, came around the back of the coach, rolling a wheelchair toward the path to the servants' entrance. He paused to lock the carriage door.
Then the driver, who had also been out of sight on the other side, climbed up to take the reins and drove suddenly away.
Lydia involuntarily took a step toward the departing carriage. It had the Aldley colours.
A feeling that she had not before experienced came over her. She feared her legs would not support her. At the same time she wanted them to run after the carriage so she could drag Miss Delacroix out of it, light her wig on fire, and beat her like she had stolen something.
As she had done. Something irreplaceable.
“Is that not Lady Aldley's carriage?” Miss Ferrel seemed intrigued.
“Yes, it is, most certainly. Well, I suppose she has summoned it to take some guest home early. Very courteous of her. Why, Miss Norwood, are you unwell?” The duke patted her arm and looked concerned.
Lydia realized that she was leaning all her weight on him. She straightened. “No, your grace.” Her voice was hoarse.
“True, you look a bit pale. I hope you will not want to go back inside so soon, for I believe that is Lord Aldley's new carriage right over there. A smart equipage, is it not? I am rather jealous of the four whites. They step sweetly, I shall vouch for it.”
“Yes, they are beautiful horses.” Hope glimmered in Lydia's breast. Surely he would not take his mother's carriage, if his own were standing right here. But why was it standing at the ready?
The Duke squinted. “I wonder why it is pulled around. Shall we go see if his man has seen Lord Aldley?”
“Yes, your grace, let us do that—if you feel up to it, Miss Norwood?” Miss Ferrel's face showed her compassion.
Lydia nodded, and tried to look more composed than she felt. Surely he would not have been in Lady Aldley's carriage. Surely. The breath hissed out of her like a weak, little prayer, as they walked toward the vehicle.
“You there! Have you seen Lord Aldley?” The duke addressed one of the men who stood in waiting.
Lydia almost fainted when the earl, himself, stepped out of the carriage.
“Duk—Miss Norwood! I have been looking all over for you!” Lord Aldley's face was aglow in the torch light.
“Well, if you do not mind my saying so, Aldley, the inside of your carriage is a rather daft place to look for this young lady.” The duke pushed his chin back so that his waddles protruded.
Aldley swallowed. “Indeed it is. Quite right, Duke. Daft is precisely the word.” He looked directly into Lydia's eyes. “I have been an utterly distracted idiot. I hope you can forgive me.”
She was so relieved to hear his hypnotic voice, to see him there, safe from the snares of Miss Delacroix. She herself was still feeling the strain of combating that lady's intolerable scheming. She willed herself not to cry. She could not look like a red-faced blubberer at a moment like this.
Her voice shook as she replied, “My Lord, there is nothing to forgive. I am—we are only very happy to have found you. Miss Ferrel informed me that your lordship was looking for me.”
The earl only nodded, still staring into her eyes.
The duke and Miss Ferrel exchanged a glance. “I should very much like to dance the next with you, Miss Ferrel, if you are free.”
“Indeed I am, your grace. It would be my pleasure.” Miss Ferrel inclined her head.
“In that case, we shall return inside. Have you something to say to this young lady, Aldley?” the duke inquired.
“I do.” Lord Aldley's eyes had not left hers.
“Well, then, I am entrusting her to your care and good character. If we do not see you inside after the dance, we shall come looking for you again.” There was a certain sternness in the duke's smile.
When they were gone, Lydia began to shake. Lord Aldley moved nearer to her. She could smell faint wafts of his scent, leather, wool, vanilla, orange, a faint sub-tone of musk.
“You are cold. I am a beast to keep you out here, but I so long to talk to you. It was my sole purpose in coming to this ball. The thing I have been trying to do ever since I arrived.”
“I am not so much cold as… would it be unrefined of me to admit that I am nervous?” Lydia tried to keep her teeth from chattering.
“I do not call it unrefined. I believe you cannot be more nervous than I am.” His blue eyes were smiling at her.
“At the risk of incurring my mother's wrath for using gambler's cant, I should take a wager that I am.”
He grinned. “I love your honesty.”
She smiled back at him, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks so that she became blissfully unaware of the cold.
He took her hand. “In fact, I lo—”
Just then a carriage rushed past them at a mad pace.
Aldley started. “What a lunat—my God, that was my mother!” He stared in disbelief.
In a sudden movement, he pulled Lydia by the hand to his carriage, almost pushing her in.
He hesitated a moment. “Will you come with me? I do not want to lose sight of you again this evening. But someone has abducted my mother, for that is not one of her carriages, and she would never leave in the middle of her own ball.”
Lydia found herself quite willing to go with him, dismissing a brief cloud of guilt that what they were about to do was more than a little improper.
“Yes, I shall.” Her breath almost abandoned her as she said it.
“Bigsby, follow that carriage, and do not lose sight of it!”
Chapter 40
Tilly stepped out of the shadows where she had been watching Miss Delacroix and the later arrival of the others. The torchlight lit up her amused face in a flicker of amber and shadow.
Everyone had departed—the duke and Miss Ferrel into the ball, the scheming Miss Delacroix off for parts unknown, and Lydia with the earl, just as should be.
Hopefully they would have a bit of fun on the way. She was sure he had been on the point of proposing, anyway, but he was an honourable man, tragically virtuous, really. He would have to marry her after the unchaperoned romp in the carriage.
And he was following Lady Aldley—alarmingly not in her own carriage. So whom had Miss Delacroix rode off with in Lady Aldley's carriage? Tilly chuckled. The whole evening was better than being in the middle of a Roman opera.
It was clear that Miss Delacroix had meant to make off with the earl and be compromised, while horribly badly disguised as Lydia—probably relying on the darkness inside the carriage. But she had simply got into the carriage that had the Aldley colours on it.
To her misfortune, it happened to be Lady Aldley's carriage and not the earl's.
But why had it taken off so suddenly? Had the earl learned of her stratagem and planned to have her removed? He looked puzzled enough when he stepped out of his own carriage—it seemed unlikely that he knew anything of Miss Delacroix's plan.
And now he was safely tucked into a carriage with Lydia. They could both use a little compromising, if they were not to become insufferable bores.
Yes, she would leave her friend in the excellent company of the earl, and see if she could instead find out whither Miss Delacroix was destined.
The little minx was not getting more than she deserved, but Tilly did not wish to see her come to actual harm. It would be hard to catch them without knowing where they were going. She would find her own servant and send for her carriage.
In the meantime, she would fin
d the servant who had removed the wheelchair, and see what he knew.
She laughed suddenly. The wheelchair. It must belong to Lord Aldley's crippled brother-in-law, mustn't it? She had to find that servant to be sure. Miss Delacroix would not spend a dull evening, it seemed.
Chapter 41
They were flying over the glistening cobblestone streets in Aldley's new equipage, and despite being in a carriage with the finest suspension made, it was still a little jarring.
Lydia was comfortable with speed, but she had always reckoned horseback to be the safest way to get about quickly—much safer than anything on wheels. The sense of danger added to her nerves, but she was also excited. It was an adventure, and she was finally alone with Lord Aldley.
He took her hand suddenly, then let it go.
“Miss Norwood, I want you to know that although I have whisked you away in my carriage, my intentions are entirely honourable.” He knew this was not quite true, but they were as honourable as any man's could be, while passionately in love.
“I do not doubt it, my lord. I understand you think your mother is in that carriage. Is she in some sort of danger?”
“First off, will you please call me Thomas?”
“I do not wish to be improper...”
“It will not be improper, and if you wish, you may call me by my name only when we are alone. But, as you are totally alone with me in this carriage, going Lord knows where, it might be a little late for considerations of propriety.”
Lydia paled. She was reminded suddenly of Delacroix's assault on her person, of being trapped in a carriage with him, going Lord knows where... of the very great risk to women, when first propriety is abandoned. “I…” she forced herself to take a deep breath, and then release it slowly.
“Are you so nervous? Very well, you may call me whatever you like. Do not be afraid. Only look, you are shivering.” There was a fur wrap beside him. He picked it up. “May I?”
She permitted him to drape it around her shoulders, and she clutched it tightly to her.