It was a lie and they both knew it, but as James moved out of Lady Abigail’s orbit to seek an object for his excuse, his excuse found him.
“Lord Penventen...”
With an overly bright smile, James turned and exclaimed, “There you are my good chap! I’ve been trying to catch you all evening. Where have you been keeping yourself?”
William Rosewall frowned, his confusion apparent. James had said no more than a few words to the man since arriving, and now he treated him like a long-lost friend.
James ignored Rosewall's bemusement as his eyes alit on the young woman next to him.
“And pray tell where have you been keeping this gorgeous creature?”
Selina's eyebrow rose at the hyperbolic greeting and she nudged her brother.
“Forgive me Sir James, I wish to introduce my sister, Miss Selina Rosewall.”
With eyes twinkling, James bowed low, sweeping Selina’s hand up with his and presenting the back of her wrist with a theatrical kiss.
“Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”
Expecting the confused giggles he had received from the other women on whom he’d used this greeting, he was surprised by a light and genuine musical laugh.
“That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman,” she responded.
James blinked in surprise at her Shakespearean touché.
He drew himself to his full height of six feet and looked at her properly for the first time.
Selina Rosewall’s sparkling blue eyes gave him pause. She was a pretty little thing. Unlike the garishly painted creatures at the ball tonight, she was fresh faced apart from a little colour on her lips and heightened colour of her cheeks, which he suspected was natural.
And, rather than looking back at him in that obvious way most husband-hungry young women did, she met his gaze directly and with a great deal of amusement.
“Teach not thy lips such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt,” he batted back.
* * *
Selina felt William shift on his feet beside her. Oh dear, as much as she loved her brother, he could be sometimes overbearingly protective. It was time to bring this harmless diversion to a close.
“Well said—that was laid on with a trowel.”
It was James’ turn to laugh.
“You do know your Shakespeare.”
She smiled in acknowledgement.
Lord Penventen was one of the most handsome men Selina had ever seen. His elegant evening attire was expensive and fashionable but not foppish. And it was clear that he was an accomplished flirt; his dark eyes held dangerous mischief.
“Lord Penventen,” she said, “my brother, Captain Rosewall, tells me you have interests in a colliery in Pennsylvania and engage in trade with the New World. Might I be so bold as to suggest that you and he might actually have some business interests in common to discuss?”
James accepted the opening and addressed William directly.
“Where’s your fleet based, Captain?”
“Bristol, sir. I own one ship and have use of two more which I hope to own should trade be favourable.”
“Triangle Trade?”
Selina saw her brother’s mouth form a tight stiff line. She knew that many of William’s contemporaries made considerable fortunes by sailing goods to Africa, then transporting Negro slaves to Jamaica and making the trip back to England with rum and sugar.
William refused to take part and she admired him beyond measure for it. He had told her briefly of serving as a young able seaman on a slave ship and he vowed to never be a part of that accursed trade as master and commander of his own ship.
“No sir. Straight trade to America and the Continent. It’s a decent enough living for honest men.”
* * *
James smiled and nodded in agreement as he glanced about the room. “Dangerous, nonetheless,” he said absently, catching sight of Abigail slowly making her way through the crowd towards him.
“Sir?”
“Oh, nothing especial. I was merely recalling a vessel lost out of your home port recently. Taken by wreckers I understand.”
“Ah. The Pandora. I knew its captain, Francis Armsden, if only by reputation. One or two of his former crew sail with me. Losing an experienced seaman is always a cause for regret. His death at the hands of wreckers is unconscionable.”
James was no longer listening. Abigail was getting too close for comfort. He reached into his waistcoat pocket for a card which he deftly handed to William.
“Do call on me early in the next week, Rosewall.”
“I will, sir. Thank you.”
“Oh and one more imposition... your sister’s hand?”
William gave a worthy impression of a freshly caught North Sea cod. The Captain’s eyes bulged; his mouth opened and closed several times without issuing a sound. James observed Selina struggling to keep her composure at her brother’s incredulous expression. Fortunately she took pity when his face turned an alarming shade of puce.
“He means for a dance, brother,” she answered with unfeigned amusement. She turned to him and curtsied.
“He is at a loss for words, Lord Penventen, which does not happen often. So might I be so forward as to accept your offer… to dance, that is?”
Chapter Two
The evening had passed pleasantly and now, just after 11 o’clock, many of the elderly guests had left or retired, leaving the young and the drunk to further drink and dance until midnight or so when supper would be served in the banquet hall.
Selina was happy to sit out this set. It had been more than an hour since she had seen William and she hoped that opportunities to talk business were fruitful.
Her feet were sore from the long evening and the inattention of a couple of clumsy dance partners. Furthermore, Selina suspected the fruit punch that several young men had gallantly procured for her was more than liberally laced with alcohol despite their protestations to the contrary.
James Mitchell caught her eye again from twelve feet away and he raised his glass of what appeared to be whiskey. She nodded and raised her half full glass of champagne, one she had nursed for an hour, in response.
The man had claimed a further three dances in two hours, not excessive but enough to pique the curiosity of some of the guests, some of whom also claimed a dance, such as Geoffrey Dobell, Viscount Canalissy, son of the Earl Canalissy, who was, as it turned out, a neighbour of Lord Penventen's from Cornwall.
Other interested parties, such as Lady Abigail and the coterie of ladies-in-waiting, openly speculated about Selina behind their fans but, as they had done all evening, made no effort to speak to her themselves.
Instead they sent a volley of their swains to ask her to dance and fish for information—an action Selina considered the world’s most laughable attempt at an interrogation. Those women would have learned she was no threat to their beaux if they’d simply engaged her in conversation.
Let them gossip, she thought. It’s not like she was ever going to see them again after tonight. Just six more weeks in London and she would return home to Bristol to plan her new life as some family’s governess.
Waiting on her writing bureau in Bristol was a newspaper advertisement she had written.
Position of governess or lady’s companion wanted for young lady of quality. Accomplished in all the feminine arts. Literate, numerate, fluent speaker of French. Character references available.
Perhaps she could find employment attached to a nice middle class family, she thought. One of this new generation of self-made gentry, for whom hard work and merit mattered more than a fortunate birth.
The popular country dance ended and the floor cleared, gentlemen taking a bow, ladies a quick curtsy, and lovers retreating into the shadows and out to the garden for fresh air.
Heavy lead crystals in suspended chandeliers, lit by hundreds of candles, caused prisms of light to dance on th
e empty parquet floor as the orchestra sounded the first few bars of new piece, one which was all the rage on the Continent. The Waltz.
A murmur ran through the crowd along with titters of amusement. Those men who had not selected partners for the next dance quickly pressed their claim with their favourites.
“Shocking! I’m surprised the Duke of Chesterfield allows such indecency,” Selina overheard an elderly dowager seated behind her harrumph to her companion. “Have you ever seen a waltz? Pressing bodies together so barely a kerchief passes between.”
Although growing in popularity at the most fashionable soirees, waltzing was highly risqué. Selina had only ever danced it with one of William’s twin boys on her hip as a dance partner. She smiled at the memory while she watched couples move out onto the dance floor.
“Do you wish to scandalise the Countess of Harrogate?” James spoke close to her ear.
She jumped, but not before a delicious shiver ran down her spine.
Selina’s first thought was to demur, but the promise she made to her sister-in-law weeks ago to flirt and enjoy asserted itself, so she gifted James with a dazzling smile.
Reacting to her changing expression with a knowing look of his own, James bowed formally, taking a proffered hand to escort her to the floor.
Selina was surprised at how smoothly she and James moved together. In contrast to the other dances this evening, with their highly rehearsed steps, the waltz simply required the couple to move in harmony.
Encircled by James' right arm at her waist and his left hand holding her right, Selina was more than aware of his masculinity as they moved around the floor. Unlike some of the other men she had danced with this evening, men whose overly liberal scent of cologne nearly made her gag, James smelled of crisp pine and rich, fresh tobacco.
She looked up to find him regarding her equally thoughtfully. It was disconcerting, so she spoke.
“My Lord, do you feel a sharp pain in your back?”
He frowned, confused.
“I fear the daggers being cast in your direction by the Lady Abigail must surely be drawing blood.”
“Ah, so that’s what it was I felt,” he grinned before leaning in to whisper, “I thought the ill-will was from the Viscount Canalissy for dancing with the most intriguing woman here.”
A sudden rush of heat bloomed through her and with that every coherent thought fled. If not for James’ firm hold and skilful movement, Selina was sure that she would have tripped over her own feet.
“Oh, now I know you’re having fun at my expense,” she said breathlessly.
“Are you sure?” he grinned.
She looked him full in the face and arched an eyebrow.
James’ smile broadened as Selina recovered her poise.
“You don’t believe me?”
She gave a long slow smile and shook her head in response.
Seeing the challenge, he leaned in. “Let’s go see,” he whispered and changed direction suddenly, pulling her close so her body moulded to his as he deftly pivoted mid-step.
As the dance continued, he challenged her— a chasse to promenade, a reverse turn step— until the waltz came to an end and the audience applauded, distracted by the wafting scent of hot food being brought into the adjoining banquet hall. The band leader announced one more dance before a break and the final set dances of the night.
Selina felt her hand snared before she noticed Viscount Canalissy beside her.
“Miss Rosewall, I couldn’t help but notice you on the dance floor. You are Terpsichore, the Muse of Dance brought to life,” he breathed. “Would you do me the honour of sharing your gift?”
The Viscount wasn’t a bad looking man in his own right. He was equally as tall as James, but more lean. His periwig was the height of fashion. His olive and gold trimmed waistcoat matched smartly with the breeches and coat. But his pale grey eyes ringed with dark lashes gave him a look of intensity that Selina found disconcerting. And where James’ hyperbolic speech was humorously ironic in nature, the Viscount’s sounded a parody, like false flattery or a pretty tune played off-key.
She hesitated in her reply, hoping that James would come to her rescue. She glanced in his direction to find him distracted by Lady Abigail and swallowed a measure of disappointment.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Sir Geoffrey and she sought to mollify him.
“You flatter me more than you ought, my Lord, but alas, I must go in search of my brother before supper is announced.”
Selina smiled what she hoped appeared a genuinely regretful smile, but, as she moved to pull her hand away, Lord Geoffrey’s grip tightened.
“Then allow me to assist. I believe I saw the Captain in discussions in the billiard room where some of the men are playing cards.”
She doubted it. William never gambled. But perhaps, as an ice breaker for business discussions, he’d made an exception?
Against her better judgement she allowed the Viscount to escort her from the throng in the ballroom, along a long hallway where she heard the sounds of masculine discussion and laughter just ahead of the pungent odour of tobacco, whiskey, and sweat.
Selina stood in the doorway of the billiard room where, through the blue-grey smoke of pipes and cigars, she could see tables of men in groups of four and eight gaming with cards or dice.
A large billiard table dominated the room and here two men with long tapered cues circled the rectangular table with all the concentration of two men stalking game.
“He doesn’t seem to be here, Miss Rosewall,” said Lord Geoffrey, stating the obvious.
“Indeed not.” Selina swallowed her irritation, suspecting that she’d been deliberately misled. “Perhaps I’d better return to the ballroom. I’m sure that is where William will expect to find me.”
Her movement back towards the hall was halted by Lord Geoffrey’s restraining hand around her wrist. She tugged futilely and glared at him. His expression was impassive and a trickle of unease worked its way up her neck.
She looked into billiard room; no one had noticed them, the men completely absorbed in their gaming.
Lord Geoffrey was six inches taller and a good deal stronger. He could easily overpower her and pull her into one of the empty connecting rooms off the hall before she could mouth a protest. Apart from the activity in the billiard room, they were alone in a quiet part of the house. What would it do to her reputation if she looked for sanctuary in a room full of men? Would it hurt her brother’s cause to make a scene?
For the first time in her life Selina felt vulnerable.
A burst of laughter from a gaming table broke the spell. At the distraction, she yanked her arm free and moved as fast as her skirts would allow down the hall, turning right along another passage which opened outside onto the colonnade.
There she heard the sound of the orchestra and could see, some yards distant, light and people spilling from the wide open ballroom doors.
Thanks to her pulse thudding in her ears, she had no idea whether Lord Geoffrey followed or not. Selina slowed from the brisk walk, her corset preventing the full measure of air that her lungs demanded.
Just a yard or two away from the ballroom, close enough to rejoin company if she needed to, Selina leaned against a column to gather her breath, the stone cool to her heated cheeks.
Stupid, stupid girl, she chided herself.
“Selina?”
Jumping at the voice, Selina turned to its owner wide-eyed and mute.
* * *
James inspected the clearly frightened woman. Her gown appeared intact although her elaborately curled hair had started to come adrift of its pinning. Her face was flushed. Had she just come from an assignation? For some reason the thought didn’t sit well with him.
“Wait here,” he demanded.
Moments later James returned with a glass of unadulterated punch in one hand, and with the other led her to a low stone bench within sight of the ballroom, but mercifully cast in shadows by a boxwood hedge.
; Now seated, Selina accepted the glass, turning it in her hands, grateful for the distraction and the anonymity of the shadows, and obviously thankful not to be on the receiving end of an interrogation as she would receive if her brother had found her first.
James waited patiently for her to speak and for a few long moments they sat in silence.
“Thank you,” she offered. James nodded and it was understood that she meant for more than the glass of punch.
“I’m sure I have inconvenienced you horribly,” she added softly.
He shook his head, even though she could not see the gesture.
“Selina, look at me… please.”
She did and the light from a garden lantern revealed she was blinking back tears.
His heart softened. If it was any other woman he’d see her safely back to her escort and consider his work done, but he sensed Selina was different—needed something different from him.
He met her gaze.
“Will you tell me what happened?” he asked.
She shook her head before looking back at her glass.
James shifted in his seat to look back down the colonnade in the direction he was sure she had come from. As he did so, a movement in the shadows caught his eye.
Was someone listening in on them? Who?
He turned back to his companion whose composure was returning.
“In that case, will you assure me that you are unharmed?” he murmured low.
“I am.”
Silence.
Selina raised her head and looked at James fully in the face.
“Truly, I am unharmed.” she nodded. “All except I think, for my dignity because you have been more than kind and you are far too important to have your time monopolised by me.”
James gave a half smile.
The tension and fear that had radiated from her when he first found her had dissipated. All she had needed was time, not a big scene which would have only embarrassed her further.
He decided to test the mood.
“And what if I told you that you are the only woman here whom I wouldn’t mind being monopolised by?”
Selina genuinely laughed. “Then I’d say you are a most notorious scoundrel and breaker of women’s hearts, and I shouldn’t believe a word you tell me.”
Moonstone Obsession Page 2