Undoing One's Enemy

by Camille Oster

  “There is not rush, I’ve decided. The marriage market will always be open for me,” he said knowing full well it was a jibe at her as the doors to society’s marriage market were decidedly closed for her no matter what ambition she harbored. “In the meantime, I might amuse myself with the more degenerate parts of London’s social circles. You know—the parts that reek of ambition and desperation.”

  She did a little nod and turned to leave. She didn’t say goodbye, just left as soon as she could get herself out. He watched her go. He couldn’t blame her, he had been vicious and he knew it, pointing out how far she had fallen and how society viewed her even though she had ambitions for an honorable life with some not strictly envied man. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he had done it. He didn’t normally act this way. She had gotten into his system and poisoned him. He’d tried to stay away but he couldn’t. This poison wasn’t going to resolve on its own, he needed to win this fight or he wasn’t sure there was going to be anything salvageable of his pride afterwards.

  He got up, he couldn’t sit any longer. He had been comfortable in his own skin before she’d came along. He might have been slightly cold and heartless, but it had been a tolerable state. Now he was all riled up with no recourse or means of venting, he was just stewing. It wasn’t healthy and he needed to do something about it, he needed to get back to where he’d been. Somehow he’d gotten off track, and that evil girl was at the root of it.

  Chapter 18

  Amelia’s night at the opera with Celeste turned out to be an interesting evening, a places where societies mixed—not mixed exactly, but they were in the same room. There were respectable women sitting in booths next to less respectable women—respectable in the sense that they were married. It was still not a place where an unmarried woman of the ton could be seen—tongues would wag.

  Anton escorted them even though he had been deeply disappointed that Amelia declined to accompany him on his tour of Paris. She’d felt awful doing it, but equally she did not want to be the kind of person who accepted such extravagant gestures when she had no intention of equally pursuing a common understanding. That understanding had been delivered earlier in the evening. She had given him an opportunity to withdraw this evening, but he had refused to alter their plans.

  “Now that is interesting,” Celeste said as she was spying the other side of the theatre through her mother of pearl opera glasses. “It seems Lord Issing has got himself a new attachment.”

  “Do you know him?” Amelia asked. She knew off him, he’d been an acquaintance of her father.

  “I do know him, quite well. It was how I met your father.”

  “Oh.” Amelia wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. It could have been a passing comment, but her announcement that she knew him quite well might have meant that there was a more complicated history, one that Amelia was perhaps best off staying away from.

  “I’ll be right back, won’t be a moment. Anton, be a darling and attend to Amelia in my absence.” Amelia wanted to say that she didn’t need attending, but Celeste was gone. Amelia smiled at Anton as he took the seat next to her. She still felt bad about having to clearly communicate that there was no future between them, but it was in actuality the kindest thing to do.

  Celeste popped into a booth on the other side of the theatre. Amelia picked up the glasses Celeste had left behind and had a look. She probably shouldn’t be nosy, but something seemed to have rattled Celeste and Amelia was curious. She watched as a handsome man kissed Celeste’s hand and introduced her to the other people in the booth. There were a few words and then Celeste withdrew from the booth to appear in theirs a few minutes later.

  “There is an event later in the week that we shall attend,” Celeste said without further clarifying. Amelia was about to ask, but the curtains drew back and the performance was starting. She saw Lord Hariston give her a quick nod from the other side of the theatre. She gave him a smile in acknowledgement and turned her attention the stage. If Lord Hariston was present, maybe Lord Eldridge was as well—she knew they were friends. She couldn’t stop her pulse from speeding up, but she kept herself look around to see if he was there. She would be able to feel the malice emanating if he was, she thought to herself, but she refused to give into an urge to look.

  The performance went on for a while before intermission was announced. Anton went to purchase some Champaign for them while they stayed in the booth.

  “There are always interesting things happening at the opera,” Celeste said. “And rarely does that include things on the stage.”

  “Anton seems to think so.”

  “Anton is a unique creature. The sweetest man. You did the right thing,” Celeste said and surveyed the theatre again. “He has good taste, unfortunately he tends misunderstand his own temperament.”

  “I truly wish he finds someone that is well suited to him.”

  “I do too.”

  Anton returned shortly after with a bottle of wine and some glasses. Amelia could tell that Celeste was unusually distracted; she kept watching the booth occupied by Lord Issing. She would bet her left shoe that the event Celeste was talking about had something to do with him.

  Then Lord Hariston entered their booth, and Celeste greeted him warmly. He took the unused seat behind them alongside Anton.

  “Ladies, what a spectacular evening, having been much enhanced by such beautiful company.”

  “Aren’t you a sweet man,” Celeste cooed. Amelia didn’t think for a minute that Celeste was actually drawn in by the compliments that formed part of the normal discourse men engaged in when talking to women like them. Amelia had learnt this fairly quickly over the last few events; men of his ilk paid heavy compliments, then apparently tempted with fineries.

  “You look particularly fetching this evening,” he said to Amelia. It took her a little by surprise having been specifically addressed. Celeste smiled before returning her attention to the booth on the other side.

  “Thank you,” Amelia said. She would have preferred the compliment to have gone unsaid, but she had to acknowledge it. She didn’t normally baulk at compliments, she just had a feeling they came with an agenda.

  “You are a friend of Lord Eldridge are you not?” Celeste asked.

  “I am,” Lord Hariston confirmed.

  “Odd fellow.”

  “A bit brusque perhaps, but a good man. I see Lord Issing is here tonight,” he continued in a more subdued voice. “Also a damned good man, wouldn’t you say?”

  Amelia knew there was some communication between them beyond face value.

  “I believe you are right,” Celeste said with equal cheeriness. “He does have a good tailor, does he not? I wonder who fits him. By far the best dressed man here.” Lord Hariston seemed to take offense to the statement, and she suspected as he was intended to.

  “He is throwing a party shortly, will you be attending?”

  “I will have to confirm with my calendar, but if I am free I would love to.”

  “Hopefully I will see you both there,” he said and performed a quick bow. “Until then, Miss Hessworth,” he said and grabbed her hand. He bent down and kissed it before leaving.

  “I think he has taken a shine to you, my dear,” Celeste said.

  “Well, he can go shine something else,” Amelia responded as he was of absolutely no interest to her. First, she didn’t like him, he was also married, and of the type that offended her deeply. If she were to go with a man like him, she might as well carry on with Lord Eldridge.

  Amelia entered the large sitting room at Lord Issing’s town house a few days later. She had a look around and was disappointed because this was not the kind of gathering where Henry was likely to show up. She hadn’t seen him for a while, but she also knew that this was important to Celeste for some reason.

  Celeste introduced her to Lord Issing. He was an older man and the long pauses in the conversation made Amelia bet that there were some history between this man and her friend. A young woman wearing a bea
utiful emerald green dress joined them. The young woman swayed with confidence and sophistication. She took the man’s arm with a beaming smile, but Amelia saw that it didn’t reach her eyes.

  “This is Simone,” he said introducing her to both Celeste and Amelia, who both returned polite greetings.

  “Such a beauty,” Celeste said. “You are a lucky man.” He didn’t beam like a lucky man, instead he gave a sharp bow and Celeste moved into the room. Amelia followed with a start when she realized that they were moving on. She followed Celeste to a seat at the other side of the room. Amelia could tell that Celeste’s view would intermittently return to Lord Issing and the young woman who was obviously his current mistress.

  “She is very pretty,” Amelia said putting out a start to a discussion in case Celeste wanted to discuss something.

  “Yes she is,” Celeste responded, but Amelia couldn’t read anything from Celeste’s expression. Then she smiled. “Here comes Anton. Anton, darling, how are you?”

  Anton greeted them like friends. He seemed to have readjusted from a few days ago when he’d indicated interest in Amelia. He seemed perfectly happy again, not sulking or sullen. Somehow she didn’t think Anton would ever drag her out of a park in front of others because he didn’t approve of the company she kept, even if they had been intimate. That was the crux of the problem, she just couldn’t image that part with him, it just didn’t seem like a possibility. If only she could respond to him the way she did when Lord Eldridge’s gaze travelled down to her lips, her problems would all be solved. She just wasn’t entirely certain she could live without that.

  As if on cue, the source of her torment entered the room. Amelia was too polite to roll her eyes, but internally she swore. He wore a well-tailored black jacket which showed off his form well along with his usual scowl. She watched as his black curls moved as he scanned the room. His scowl only deepened when he spotted her. The heat in the room raised an astonishing amount, she felt like she could barely breathe the hot air. Amelia wished she had a fan to hide behind, but it wasn’t the fashion this season. Instead she just clasped her hands in her lap and tried to pay attention to Celeste and Anton.

  “Anton, you must have a conversation with that girl tonight,” Celeste said discreetly pointing across the room.

  “That girl?” he said with confusion indicating toward a blond girl with thick ringlets.

  “No, the one behind her,” Celeste said indicating a much less radiant girl with brown hair and a low hairline. She was a pretty girl, but rather unremarkable. “I believe she is a Russian ballet dancer.”

  “Truly?” Anton said with hint of delight.

  “I wonder if she speaks much English,” Celeste said, but she seemed to have lost Anton’s attention.

  “She has pretty arms, hasn’t she?” Anton said distractedly. “Dancer’s arms.”

  “Maybe she’s danced in Paris.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “These Russian dancers tend to have danced all over Europe,” Celeste said to Anton’s back. Anton was gone.

  “I hope she’s nice,” Amelia said.

  “By the looks of her, I doubt she is the centre piece of the company.”

  The music started and Anton had apparently procured enough courage to ask the woman to dance, and by the way she moved there was no doubt that she was a dancer.

  “We may not see Anton for a while,” Celeste said.

  Amelia watched as the dancers started to fill the floor spontaneously. This wasn’t a ball, but people decided to dance and she liked that. She wished someone would ask her, well not just anyone, there were a few exceptions.

  One of those exceptions was across the room discussing something intently with a circle of gentlemen. He did know how to dress to his advantage. She caught his gaze drift over to her, it made her heart speed up and her hands feel clammy. A part of her desperately sought to escape, but refused to let him chase her away.

  He had warned her that he would be attending similar events as her—not that she understood why he insisted on tormenting her, or why he was here for any reason. From having been adamant to marry, to now seeking a mistress; she didn’t entirely understand it, but she had come to accept that she didn’t completely understand the men of her ranking, or rather her former ranking.

  Lord Hariston had now followed Lord Eldridge’s eyes in her direction; although his look wasn’t quite so hostile. She was not in the mood for attention from either of them, so she excused herself to walk over to the table where little nibbles were displayed for the guests. She wanted a breath of fresh air, but she needed to make a few stops before. If she had headed straight outside with their eyes knowingly on her, they may well assume that she was seeking company, which was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

  After nibbling on some beef on a cracker, perusing the cards table and a quick chat with one of Celeste acquaintances, she snuck out through the doors to the garden. She wasn’t going far or out of sight, who knew what lurked in the recesses of the garden at a party such as this. She sighed with relief when she got outside. She wondered if she could claim a headache and return home early. Celeste didn’t need to be chaperoned after all.

  The moon was bright tonight and she wondered if she could even risk a walk home. It wasn’t awfully far and it was a respectable neighborhood.

  “Seeking an assignation?” she heard a familiar deep voice behind her. This time she really did roll her eyes before turning round.

  “Just some air,” she said. He stood in the way, between her and the door. She didn’t say anything further and hoped the conversation would end there.

  “How is your hunt for a husband going?” he asked. He was mocking her again. “Won’t find much success here, I believe most of the men here are married.”

  “You’re not,” she challenged.

  He laughed, “I think our time has passed.”

  “I’m not quite sure I’m that desperate,” she said. She saw tension in him. Why were they doing this? She was being equally ridiculous, she chided herself. “I’m sorry,” she said deciding that she was going to be the better person. She certainly wasn’t doing herself any good bickering with him. “I have a headache. I think I will go inside.”

  She went to walk past him. He didn’t move, but he didn’t stop her either as she gave him a wide berth. Once past him she sped up until she had stepped inside the door. Now she sighed with relief to be back inside—there were no zones of comfort at this party. She returned to Celeste’s side, but before long Lord Eldridge was back in the room. He was watching her now; she could feel his eyes on her relentlessly. They seemed to scorch her, and rob her of breath. She completely avoided eye contact. He wasn’t supposed to stare like that, he wasn’t following the rules and it annoyed her. She had tried to be civil, well barely, but she’d had intentions in that direction.

  “He is watching you, my dear,” Celeste said quietly.

  “I am aware.”

  “He is most direct.”

  “I have a headache, I might return home.”

  “And let him chase you away?” She’d said exactly the same thing when he walked in that night, but she had changed her mind.

  “I’m not looking for a fight tonight.”

  “You might not be, but he is coming over.”

  Amelia felt her heart stop. What did he want now? She looked over and he was too close for her to sneak away. Celeste was kind of right, she shouldn’t let him get to her.

  “Evening,” he said to Celeste. Then he turned to Amelia, “would you care to dance?”

  “I’m afraid she has a headache,” Celeste said with a smile.

  “A bit of exercise always does good for the head in such instances, I find,” he said calmly, but with a challenge.

  “I hope you intend to behave tonight,” Celeste warned.

  “Behave?” he said with feigned surprise. “Just trying to ascertain how my former house guest is faring. I do end up taking care of her most of the time
.”

  “I take care of her now,” Celeste said sharply.

  “And you are seeing her right, I am sure,” he said. Amelia knew he was having a go at Celeste for bringing her into this company. The last thing she wanted is for the two of them to fight, especially due to his hypocritical concerns for her future.

  “Fine, one dance,” she said just to get this conversation to stop. She took his hand as he held it out. She felt a shock of energy run up her arm as she did. His touch felt familiar and devastating at the same time. He led her to the space were others were dancing.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked trying to get control of her breathing, not understanding why he would ask to dance considering his opinion of her.

  “I have my reasons.” He placed his hand on the back of her waist. It felt intensely uncomfortable, and at the same time intimate. Nothing she did would stop her full awareness of him. He was the only man whose touch she knew and there seemed to be some kind of bond that reasserted itself whenever he touched her.

  “I would appreciate it if you didn’t criticise my friends, you have no right.”

  “She is not your friend. She is your father’s mistress, a demimonde—a whore.”

  “You are completely odious.”

  “You are not going to achieve your virtuous ambition with such company. I can’t truly believe that you are serious, because your actions seem quite discordant to someone seeking a husband. I suspect you say so, but act very differently—actions say so much more.”

  She went to slap him, but he caught her hand this time. He forced her hand behind her own back, while he held her in place. Slowly he continued with the steps of the dance again. “I would very much appreciate it if you would stop doing that.”

  “You deserve it.”

  “As do you.”

  Their actions had drawn some attention. “I don’t know why you hate me so much. I am not my father, whatever it was he did to you, it is not my fault.”