by Rosie Harper
Linnet wasn’t particularly impressed by that, given how close they were to the border, almost everyone who had grown up in this area carried some tain of the other land, but there was something about this one, something she couldn’t quite place.
Danger?Perhaps.
“He’s also very handsome,” Lydia added.
That might have been it. Linnet felt the blood rush to her face.
“Good evening, ladies,” Theodore Polk said upon arriving to their side. He bowed slightly, and Linnet was enthralled. “I don’t know if we’ve met, my name is Theodore Polk.”
“I’m Lydia Havilland, and we have met, but perhaps you haven’t met my dear good friend, Linnet Wakefield.”
“Lydia!” Linnet hissed. What was the point of going to a masquerade ball in disguise if one was just going to blurt out who they were? Theodore’s greenish gray eyes twinkled at her from behind his simple black mask. Suddenly Linnet realized that she could not breathe, or perhaps it was merely the corset.
“Don’t fret, I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear it,” Theodore said.
“We’re supposed to be in disguise,” Linnet replied lamely, as though that explained anything. He smiled again and held out his hand.
“Well, my lady, I was wondering if you could do me the honor of a dance.”
Lydia’s face paled, and she pulled Linnet aside, bringing her fan up as a guard against his potentially prying eyes.
“He never asks people to dance!” she said in a featherweight whisper. “You have to say yes.”
The idea of saying anything to this man filled her with a certain kind of fear, but she moved her face from around Lydia’s fan and nodded her head, trying to remain calm over the fluttering in her heart. It took her a moment, but then she realized that he was still holding out his hand, she giggled lightly and reached for it. His hand was warm in hers, and she suddenly realized that this was the first time she had touched any man that was not her father or her fiancé in quite some time. The idea of it made her head swim, and she heard Lydia’s dreamy sigh as Theodore pulled her onto the dance floor.
A waltz began to play, and Linnet tried hard not to give a sigh of relief since she knew this sort of dance. His hand rested lightly on her back, she could feel it there even through the layers and layers of silk, and the heat of him made her want to lean forward and take a deep breath. He moved in a slightly clumsy way that Linnet would find embarrassing if she herself wasn’t so terribly out of practice. Instead she closed her eyes and listened to the fine music, felt the feeling of his hand in hers, and wondered precisely why he had chosen her.
“What did your friend whisper to you?” he asked after booth of them had properly remembered the steps. Linnet bit her lip and blushed again (she had never blushed so much in all her life) and turned to see if Lydia was watching. Of course she was, beaming like a fairy godmother in a story.
“She told me you never dance with anyone, which I find to be quite the scandalous lie.”
“Oh, it is, is it?”
“Yes, considering the fact that you’re dancing with me.”
He grinned at that and she felt terrifically proud of herself for handling such conversation so well. She hadn’t needed to bother with Basile given the fact that theirs was most definitely a marriage of business, so she had never been interested in winning his heart with her charm, nor hers with his. It was, on some level, completely reasonable, but now as she was making this complete stranger smile, she was beginning to wonder if there wasn’t more to life than a future of staring at one’s husband from across the table and realizing that the only thing she had ever been towards him was polite.
“It’s true, I do not often make a point of asking women to dance, which I’m sure you can see why now.” He tripped over the hem of her skirt and they both laughed. Out of the corner of her eye Linnet could see Lydia’s utter look of disbelief. She might have been jealous, but that was fine, Linnet had been jealous of Lydia for nearly all of their life, it was time for Lydia to know what it felt like.
She looked into the mysterious Theodore’s eyes and thought she might drown in the paleness of them. What had gotten into her!? One night sneaking out, one dance with a strange gentleman, and she was seeing stars.
“You waltz beautifully, Miss Wakefield,” he said.
“Who?” Linnet asked with bat of her eyelashes.
Theodore laughed. “You don’t need to be coy with me, I won’t tell anyone that you’re here, and since I’ve never seen you before in my life why would anyone ask me if I had ever seen you?”
He had a point, and Linnet conceded it, plus in the carousel of color she couldn’t imagine anyone noticing who she was, she had been hidden from most of polite society for so long, that she doubted many of these people even knew who she was. And why not enjoy herself in the arms of this handsome stranger? She would most likely have to have a presence in polite society once she was married to Basile, it wouldn’t be too terrible if she had her practice now.
“You make a valid point, Mister Polk.”
“Please, call me Ta- um, Theodore. Call me Theodore.”
“Only if you call me Linnet.”
It was scandalous to be on such terms with a complete stranger, but there was simply something about him, she couldn’t help it. She wanted to run her mouth over those sharp cheekbones to see if they would cut her lips like she imagined they would. It was a silly and girlish thought, and unbecoming of an engaged woman, but then again this entire dance was unbecoming of a woman of her status.
She loved it that way.
“Why did you choose me, Theo?” Her lips curled around the nickname she had spontaneously given him, and she discovered that she very much liked to call him that. It was a dangerous thing to do, and she understood that well enough, but she couldn’t stop herself from doing it. It was too much fun. He spun her out wildly and she laughed, tipping her head back and enjoying the feeling.
“You’re different,” Theodore said with a small measure of surprise. It seemed as though he was only just realizing that he meant it. “There’s something about you, you’re not like the others.”
“The other girls have been taught to be a proper English lady,” Linnet replied simply.
“And you haven’t been?”
“I’ve been taught to be a proper nun,” Linnet replied. “This is my first party in… well, ever actually.”
He looked surprised.
“Good luck for me then.”
“You’re different yourself, you know.”
The ghost of an emotion flitted across his face and for a moment Linnet wondered if she had said something wrong. Her lips moved to apologize, but the emotion was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure that it had ever existed.
“Perhaps I’m a spy for Scotland,” he said playfully. Linnet laughed.
“Oh, really? Why would you leave the country for a town like this?”
Another emotion this time, perhaps surprise? It was as though he had expected her to say something disparaging about the highlanders. Instead he seemed rather pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t.
“If you love the country so much, you should come back with me when I go.”
Linnet didn’t know if he was being serious or not. but she looked at him long and hard as the waltz slowed and he brought her closer to him. What if he was being serious? What if she could just run away to some beautiful Scottish place and live out the rest of her days far from the pressures of society?
Don’t be silly, Linnet, she thought. Society exists there too.
And her father would still exist in the world, so how could she truly get away? His face was very close to hers now, and she found herself unconsciously leaning in. It wasn’t until they were almost too close to pull away that she realized that she was truly dying for a kiss, and if he did kiss her in that moment she might burst into a million stars.
“Excuse me, may I cut in?” A male voice asked from whatever reality Linnet was trying to escape from
. Theodore moved back, surprised, and came face to face with a moderately attractive man with dark hair and eyes. Linnet’s heart began to pound for a different reason. Basile did not seem angry, more stern as he stood before the two of them. Linnet tried not to think of the people around her, those who might be seeing this little spectacle happen. Instead she looked directly at Basile, knowing it was the lesser of two evils in this moment.
“Basile,” she said.
“Linnet,” he replied. She could hear enough in his words that he was not at all pleased about this development. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I…” She didn’t know what to say. Theodore looked between the two of them as though he were ready for the fight of his life.
“Who are you?” He asked.
“My name is Basile Trafalgar,” Basile replied with ice in his voice. “I happen to be Miss Wakefield’s fiancé.”
Theodore looked at her and she promptly looked away, too embarrassed to say anything in her own defense. Basile looked at her and she could not tell whether or not he was angry at her, but she knew that she was going to have to change the situation before it escalated, so she put on her loveliest smile and held out her hand to her fiancé in what she hoped was a graceful movement.
“You wanted a dance?”
Ever the gentleman, Basile took her in his arms and swept her out to the dance floor, she could feel Theodore’s eyes on the back of her head as he took her away, and she did her best to toss him the most apologetic look that she could.
“I’m not angry at you,” Basile told her as he maneuvered her with an expert grace that belied his impeccable breeding. Her head swam with things she should say, but nothing reasonable came. Should she apologize? Was he expecting an apology? A curl came loose from her elaborate hairstyle and he reached up to tuck it back behind her ear. She flinched internally, hoping that he did not see. If he did he made no comment, and danced with her in wide circles around the ballroom.
“I’m glad,” she replied.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you wanted to attend the ball? I could have brought you as my date, we are to be betrothed, I would not have denied you.”
Linnet knew that he wasn’t telling the truth precisely. He would have asked her father first, and then did whatever the Baronet said. Linnet knew by now that the Baronet usually said no, so what was the point? As handsome and gentlemanly as Basile was, she wondered whether or not she could truly marry a man who was in her father’s pocket.
“We will be married soon,” he said.
It was then that Linnet realized she couldn’t. There was a look in his eyes that seemed almost hopeful, and it filled her heart with something that felt like sinking. Perhaps it was merely disappointment.
Linnet could see her entire life stretched out before her, an endless parade of parties like this one, of prim and proper teas, of children born out of duty, given prim and proper names and raised the same way she was. She looked at this man, this perfectly fine, although ultimately completely unsuitable man and realized that she would rather be anywhere than where she was standing right at that moment.
He looked at her as though expecting something, and she instead caught a glimpse of a dark suit disappearing down a hallway. Theo, she thought wildly.
“As early as next week, I could expect. I’ll ask your father but I dare say he’s been waiting for ages for us to finally pick a day.”
Her mouth went dry. She could feel Theodore’s eyes on the back of her neck as she danced.
“We’ll honeymoon in Paris, of course, you’ve always wanted to see Paris, right, my darling?”
She had, but with him? She could picture her days wandering the streets while Basile did one deal after another on her father’s behalf. Everything would be set for Basile Trafalgar then, finally married into the business he had worked for so long to be a part of, finally having what he believed he deserved. The idea, in spite of itself, made Linnet a little sick.
Linnet did not, of course, hate Basile, she merely hated the fact that she would have to give up so much of her freedom for him, and for what? Another gilded cage? The thought made her stomach turn.
And what if this dark stranger, a man who had danced with her before her fiancé had ever bothered to. What about him? Had he really meant what he said while they danced? Would he want to take her to the highlands of Scotland...to do what?
She could think of far too many things, and that made her blush once more.
“Linnet?”Basile said in an attempt to capture her attention again. She took a step back from him.
“I’m sorry, I need some air.”
Before he could say anything she disappeared back into the crowd, making her way desperately to the hallway, hoping that she hadn’t lost him for good.
#
Tavish knew he was a complete idiot for what he had done. Dancing with a girl? A girl to be married? Of course he didn’t know that she was going to, and no one would have blamed him for trying. The girl was exquisite, with those cornflower blue eyes and that red hair. He wish he could see it unbound, being blown in the breeze of Loch Maree. He felt a pang...he was so far from home.
It was over now, he knew it, so why not leave early? The idea was incredibly tempting, and he was so caught up in the idea of riding his horse those many days back to the highlands that he did not hear the sound of footsteps behind him.
“Theo!” He heard a cry, but the voice was achingly familiar. Turning around he was suddenly engulfed in a flurry of warm blue damask. Linnet. She had thrown her arms around him in a fit of passion, and he allowed it, burying his face in her hair and breathing in the scent of roses.
They broke away and suddenly her lips were upon his, kissing him with small, feverish little kisses that sent spikes of desire into his heart. Her mouth was so small, so warm, and she kissed him as though she desperately wanted to devour him. He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, pulled her into a secluded drawing room where no one would find them.
“Your fiancé,” he whispered as she pushed herself closer to him. Linnet shook her head as though attempting to banish the thought of her fiancé away.
“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I just don’t want you to leave just yet.”
She kissed him again, and again, and he began to feel dizzy with it. Her breast strained against the confines of her corset and he longed to free them, but he knew that she would never be able to put the clothing back on in any way that could avoid a scandal. He moved away from her as she attempted, clumsily, to reach for his britches.
“No,” he whispered to her. “Not here. We’ll get caught.”
He desperately wanted to, but the damn constraints of English clothing got in the way.
Candlelight flickered in Linnet’s hair and he reached up to touch it. She shivered.
“Take me with you,” she whispered to him.
“Alright, my love,” he whispered back.
God help me, he thought. I hope I haven’t just destroyed us both.
#
Basile knew something was wrong as soon as he entered the Wakefield residence and heard the maid crying. The Baronet kept a simple, yet remarkably expensive house, but only kept a few servants. Margaret was a particular favorite of Linnet’s, something like a friend and confidant, at least better than that silly Havilland girl was. Now his heart sank as he saw her tear stained face.
“Margaret,” Basile began. “Whatever could be wrong?”
With a shaky hand, she held out a piece of paper to him.
It was paper thin stationary, filled with a spiky handwriting that he guessed must be Linnet’s. He narrowed his eyes as he read the words.
My Dearest Margaret,
It pains me to tell you such things, but I must be away. I can no longer live in a world made that much smaller by my father, and I fear that if I marry Basile it will only get worse. ...Please do not tell him about this.
(At that Basile glanced up at Margaret with a confused
look, only to make the poor girl burst into fresh tears.)
I hope that in time they come to understand why I have done what I have done. You were a wonderful friend to me Margaret, one I will always remember.
All of my love and friendship, forever and ever,
Linnet
Basile released a breath, it sounded like something close to annoyance, but he very rarely allowed himself to truly be annoyed. Linnet had disappeared, whatever was he to do? He pressed his lips into a straight line and looked up at Margaret.
“I will write a letter to the Baronet straight away,” he said. “Then...well, I suppose I must get a carriage ready.”
Margaret’s tears came to a slow stop.
“You know where she is, sir?”
Basile frowned. He did not like frowning, but it seemed appropriate for present circumstances.
“I do, but I hope I’m wrong.”
He turned and stormed out of the room. Theodore Polk, he thought bitterly. I am going to find you.
#
Linnet proved to be an able rider, and she explained that it was the only thing she had ever been allowed to do back in her home. She was wonderful to watch riding, especially now that her long red hair was loose around her shoulders, her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement. They were two days ride out before it began to dawn on him. She had essentially eloped with a complete stranger, and yet there was not an ounce of fear in her.
Tavish wish that he felt the same.
“I suppose that it’s best to tell you that you should call me Tavish.”
“Tavish?” she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“That’s my real name.”
Only then did the color drain from her cheeks. “You weren’t lying?”
“We’re two days ride into Scotland and you still thought I was kidding with you?”
She laughed at that then. “No, I suppose I didn’t...but still, I’m...I’m very surprised. Tavish?”
“TavishMacFadden.”
“Oh, no wonder you chose to change your name.