And it would take all the strength inside him not to go to Collingwood House and beat the bloody duke senseless.
Chapter Twelve
The silver ball gown was so lovely, like a shimmer of heavenly light, that Eva frowned at her reflection. The clinging fabric molded to her upper body as if she’d spent hours in fittings, and fell in delicate yards of silk and lace, shot through with lighter silver threads, from the bodice to the floor.
The color set off the hints of gold and copper in Eva’s upswept hair as she scowled. No fairy godmother with magic powers could have turned her so perfectly into a princess. She sparkled.
Eva met her sister’s eyes in the mirror. Noelle was immensely satisfied with herself. She hadn’t stopped humming since she’d arrived with the gown draped over her arm.
“This is your idea of plain?”
Noelle, resplendent in rose satin, smiled. Her fair hair was twisted at the back of her head in an elaborate creation that must have taken her maid half the afternoon to produce. Ruby earbobs dangled from her lobes and crystal-encrusted pins sparkled in her hair.
“I had the modiste take off the ribbons and bows to make the gown simpler,” Noelle offered with a shrug. She moved behind Eva and leaned over her shoulder. The light scent of roses drifted around her. “You look lovely. I could not have made a better choice myself.”
Eva narrowed her eyes. “You did choose it.”
Noelle giggled and reached for a jar of powder. “I did, didn’t I? I must have excellent taste.”
“And you are modest, too, sister.” The term “sister” no longer felt odd on her tongue. Only the two of them, and Harold, knew of their connection. Noelle had been passed off as a new friend, and the servants and her mother accepted it as fact.
Eva knew she should run to the wardrobe and pull out one of her drab spinster costumes, but could not bring herself to do so. She’d never had the occasion to wear such an exquisite creation, and vanity overcame any desire to take it off.
“With my beautiful sister at my side, it will be impossible to hide in the crowd,” Eva said. “The den of lions will be licking their chops with anticipation.”
The only thing Eva could do was pray she would not trip over the duke. He was the most ferocious beast of all.
“Nonsense.” Noelle put the jar down. “The only slavering happening this evening will come from the eager young bucks begging for an introduction to you.”
Eva worried her bottom lip. The dratted whisper of reason reared up, and she faltered in her resolve to enjoy the ball. Young bucks? Was she up to the task of flirting and dancing? Would she shame herself and her sister with her inexperienced bumbling? She had no formidable chaperone to hide behind if she desired a moment to collect herself, or to save her from an overzealous suitor.
Harold had promised to linger outside with the coach, on the chance she might need to make a speedy exit. Inside the manor, she was on her own with only Noelle for protection. The idea did not soothe her in the least.
What if His Grace attended the ball? It was not beyond comprehension that he would be there. He was trolling for a bride, and there would be many young women to choose from; a veritable flock of well-bred pigeons cooing for his attention. If Miss Banes-Dodd refused him, he’d have to do nothing more than stretch out an arm and collect a dozen young marriage-minded misses tottering along at his coattails.
Her frown deepened. He would laugh and dance and pick out a wife without giving a moment of thought to her. She, Eva, was utterly inconsequential to his future; a mistress easily replaced with another when he became bored.
The frown deepened to a scowl.
Suddenly, there was nothing more she wanted to do at this moment than to rush off to the ball and flirt with every man between eighteen and eighty who crossed her path.
The duke be damned.
Eva touched the tiny diamond earbobs she’d borrowed from her mother. Mother had been wearing them the night she met Eva’s father. Charlotte always considered them lucky.
If anyone needed luck tonight, it was Eva.
She hooked her arm through Noelle’s. “Shall we go?”
Candles flickered from every window on the two lower floors of Pennington Manor as Noelle’s coach stopped in a line of other coaches. Eva peered out the window at the four-story brick monolith that overshadowed the smaller houses on either side of it in fashionable Grosvenor Square.
Eva’s initial rush of excitement was tempered slightly as Noelle pointed out each home they passed, with a brief description of the families within, including Collingwood House, which was two streets over. She had no business being in this world, and she knew it. Seeing Nicholas’s huge home confirmed again she’d never have a place at his side.
Women of questionable birth dared not dream such dreams.
She’d kept her face bland when Noelle spoke of the handsome, unattached duke, but her heart fluttered dangerously in her breast while unease settled in her bones. Noelle was a picture of serenity, but Eva was a jumble of nerves. Everyone who mattered in society’s inner circle would be attending this ball. He would be there, she had no doubt.
There was more than a chance this house of cards would tumble down and Noelle would be left picking through the devastation. If His Grace chose to unmask her as his mistress, nothing would save either sister.
“I think we should end this madness before it’s too late.” Eva touched her clasped hands to her mouth. “We can return home and eat fig cakes until our seams pop.”
Noelle brushed a piece of lint off her cloak. “Nonsense. I have the chance to show off my lovely sister, and I intend to do so proudly. Of course, we will introduce you as my cousin, but nonetheless I plan to laugh gaily and dance until my feet hurt. Then we shall dine on fattened pheasant and gritty oysters until we must let our corsets out. And if a handsome young man kisses my hand, I shall giggle like a silly goose and bat my lashes until he is desperately smitten.”
Eva giggled. Noelle was like an untamed wind blowing through the eaves. It was impossible not to get caught up in the vortex.
The coach inched forward. Noelle leaned out the window. “It takes longer to get to the front of the line than the ball is long. Cannot the guests disembark at a less leisurely pace?”
“Patience, Noelle. We are nearly there.”
Eva examined Noelle’s serene face. Was it possible Noelle hoped that she would be exposed and ruined? It was a strange thought, but it would certainly explain her sudden arrival on Eva’s doorstep and her insistence that Eva accompany her this evening. Or maybe she hoped to somehow scandalize her uncaring mother. What better way to accomplish that than to flaunt a bastard sister around London?
She leveled a pointed stare on Noelle. “Why are you really doing this, Noelle? I am nothing but a shameful secret, a product of our father’s indiscretion. Yet, you are risking everything to treat me like a princess tonight. Why?”
Noelle looked at her with surprise. It took a moment before she smiled softly in the dim light. “You are my sister. Regardless of your birth, you are my family.”
“There must be more,” Eva interjected. She wouldn’t get out of this coach until she had answers. “Tell me the real reason for this game.”
With a sigh, Noelle leaned forward and reached for Eva’s hand. “Father and Mother hated each other, and seldom spoke unless it was to ask to pass something at mealtime. I often wonder if Meg and I are not the offspring of the gardener.” She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling. “Your mother and we girls were his happiness. I cannot begrudge Charlotte’s giving him moments of joy. So yes, I risk much to claim you as kin. I will have it no other way.”
Thankfully the shadows hid the shimmer of tears in Eva’s eyes as she smiled and shook her head slowly. “You are an odd and wonderful young woman, Noelle.”
Noelle grinned. “You would not change a thing about me.”
Eva drew in and released a big sigh. She squeezed her sister’s hand. “No, indeed, I wo
uld not.”
The overwhelming scent of perfume and thousands of blooms, in overflowing vases, caused Eva to falter slightly as Noelle led her, arm in arm, toward the ballroom. The hall was packed with people, men in their finery and women in vivid gowns, as if each was fighting to outdo the others in color and design.
Eva struggled not to gawk like a ninny at the high ceiling in the foyer, painted a pale blue with a smattering of fluffy white clouds scattered across the surface. Whoever the artist was, he was very talented. It was almost as if Pennington Manor had no roof and she was staring at a bright summer sky.
“This house is a palace.” She leaned close to Noelle’s ear in order to be heard over the sound of dozens of voices.
“It is grand.” Noelle gripped her tightly as a man in a peacock blue coat brushed past. “Aunt Penn does have a desire for the dramatic. Last year she insisted all her women guests dress in red and the men in black. It was stunning.”
“I can imagine.” Eva cast one last glance at the ceiling before they left the hall. She could spend hours lying on her back on the marble floor, just staring at the clouds and daydreaming.
“See that man over there talking to the woman with the green feathers in her hair?” Noelle pointed discreetly behind her fan, and Eva looked where indicated. The man was tall and thin with a decidedly boyish face. “Last year Mother pushed me to accept his suit, until he was caught by Margaret in a compromising situation with one of our footmen. They were both dismissed quite handily. Now Mother has given up trying to match me. She believes her only chance for grandchildren rests with our sister.”
It was impossible to picture Noelle heavily laden with child. Noelle often deemed herself unfit for marriage, and was quite content to allow the rest of society to repopulate.
Eva took a turn to tease. “I would not disavow men completely, sister. You might find one tonight who sweeps you off to his castle. Then you will spend the rest of your days happily filling out a branch of his family tree.”
Noelle grimaced and cast a quick glance around the hallway outside the ballroom. “I would have a better chance of getting hit by a falling star than that. Men prefer women who cling to their every word, not question everything they say.” She winked. “My mother calls me impossible.”
The two sisters giggled, and Eva teased, “On that, your mother and I agree.”
They waited until a large family moved to the front of the line and then slipped unannounced into the ballroom behind them. Eva thought it better that way. Though she was dressed like a sparkling silver Christmas star, the less attention she drew to herself, the better their chances to survive the evening unscathed.
This was to be her first and last society ball, and she planned to enjoy it to the fullest. Unfortunately, they had taken only a few steps inside the massive ballroom when a voice broke through the crush and stopped Noelle. She tensed.
“There you are, dearest.” A woman of middle years, in a frothy concoction of deep green topped with an overlay of delicate gold lace, crossed between clusters of guests to come to a halt before Noelle. She took Noelle’s hands and said crossly, “I worried you’d taken ill, Noelle. I thought you’d come early and help me welcome my guests.”
Noelle accepted a tight-lipped kiss on both cheeks. “I apologize, Aunt.” She stepped back to indicate Eva. “My cousin, Evangeline, has just arrived from the country. We were rushed to find her something suitable to wear.”
A pair of hawk eyes snapped to Eva’s face, and in them was a full measure of suspicion. She now understood why Lady Pennington was called a dragon. She was a formidable force. Eva braced herself and struggled to keep her composure beneath the painfully sharp glare.
“Evangeline? You have no cousin named Evangeline.”
“That is what makes this so delightful, Aunt.” Noelle slipped an arm protectively through Eva’s. They leaned lightly on each other. “I just discovered Uncle Edward entered into a secret marriage after Auntie Bess, just before he died. A cousin, Roderick, was born of that union. Cousin Roderick married Miss Eloise Solomon, and Evangeline is their only child. Sadly, Eva’s parents died some months ago when their boat capsized in a swell. It was only then, through a delayed letter, that I happily discovered I had another cousin.”
Eva managed to bite the inside of her cheek and look grim. She wanted to laugh at the sober way Noelle presented the outlandish lie.
“Lady Pennington, may I introduce Evangeline Harrington.”
Lady Pennington’s gaze bore into Eva as if digging deep for some hint of deception. Eva knew that the instant she had an available moment, the lady would dash off a note to Noelle’s mother for confirmation. But it was too late to do so this evening, so for now, Eva was safe.
And as the lie was difficult to disprove, Lady Pennington could do but one thing as a hostess faced with a new and highly connected relation to Noelle. “Welcome to my home, Miss Harrington,” she said with a tight smile. “I hope we will have time later in the evening to get to know one another.”
“I would like that,” Eva said. As much as she would like to rip off her clothes and dance naked through London. She made a note to be everywhere Lady Pennington wasn’t.
Lady Pennington shot Noelle a dark, suspicious frown and walked off to greet arriving guests.
The air seemed to lighten, and it was easier to breathe without the dragon present.
“Do you think she believed us?” Eva asked, shooting her sister a sidelong and skeptical glance.
Noelle pursed her lips. “Not for a moment.”
Their blended laughter turned several heads.
Eva spent much of the next hour being shuttled through introductions to Noelle’s acquaintances. Since she lived most of her time in Kent, her close friends were at the ball. Eva carried herself with what she hoped was dignity and grace, thankful for her mother’s girlhood teachings. Charlotte hadn’t known what kind of life her daughter would grow up to lead, but she wanted Eva to be able to fit into even the grandest situation. So it was easy to play the part of a country cousin, a lady of impeccable birth.
When a young man, reasonably handsome in spite of two crooked front teeth, swept Noelle away for a dance, Eva felt slightly out of sorts. Several pairs of male eyes turned in her direction, but she was still a curious novelty and they were unsure how to approach her.
So she accepted a glass of punch from a passing servant and let her attention drift over the crowd.
The sounds of laughter and the music, the sight of beautiful gowns and men in their evening attire, and the scent of candles and flowers infused Eva’s senses. She tapped her toe beneath the hem of her gown and waited with impatience for one of the young men to summon the courage to ask her to dance.
She very much wanted to dance.
Casually, as she looked over the rim of her glass for an eye to catch, the crush parted for an instant, and an imposing figure came into view. Her heart stopped.
A tall man in black, his back to her, was in conversation with a petite brunette in a pale pink gown. The girl was smiling sweetly at him, as if every word spilling from his mouth was the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard in her young life.
Eva quickly dismissed her, for it was the dark hair and broad shoulders of the girl’s companion that took her breath away. She’d spent time enough in his company, in clothing and out of it, to know him intimately from every angle, every carved and sculpted and muscled plane.
His Grace.
Like a rabbit confronted by a passing hound, she wasn’t sure if she should flee or stay still, hoping she could remain unnoticed in the horde. Luck was not with her, in spite of her mother’s earbobs. He turned, smiling, and froze.
From across the room, he stared at her, and all the laughter in the green depths of his eyes died. She felt ill and flushed and guilty. She had crossed an invisible line between their worlds, and by the dangerous downturn of his mouth, she knew he was furious.
All sense of time and place faded as she quickly
turned and headed for a set of open doors to the terrace. She shoved her glass into a maid’s hand without pausing in her flight. Eva had gotten halfway around a potted tree, a few steps from freedom, when a hand clamped around her arm. She turned to face Nicholas.
“What are you doing here, Eva?” he hissed, using his body to block the curious glances of guests lingering nearby. Holding on to her arm, he pulled her with him through the doorway. Casually nodding to a couple leaning on the rail, he propelled her along the terrace and into a shadowy corner. “Are you mad?”
She was mad. She was in a dark corner of the terrace, at a ball she had no business attending, with a man who knew her body almost as intimately as she did. Just days earlier he’d buried his face between her legs and given her a mindnumbing orgasm.
Slowly, she nodded, her face heating. “Clearly.”
Nicholas expelled a harsh breath, then pointed a finger in the direction of the ballroom. “Do you realize just inside those doors are my future wife, my mother, nearly everyone of my acquaintance?”
So, the brunette was the perfect and soon-to-be duchess, Lucy Banes-Dodd. The woman who would someday soon share his bed, host his parties, and present His Grace with a passel of well-bred and exceedingly beautiful children. She would be all the things Eva could never be to him: an openly cherished wife and lover.
A press of the demon jealousy welled. He had his every desire, and she had nothing. She had lived most of her life behind the doors of her home, unable to enjoy the frivolous fun most young ladies of her age thrived upon. She had never truly resented her choices, until now. He’d not take this night from her.
“I have every right to be here,” she whispered and tried to back away. A vine-covered trellis blocked her escape. “I was invited.”
“Invited? Don’t be absurd.” He gripped her arms and leaned down. His warm breath brushed her nose. “Lady Pennington does not invite courtesans to her balls.”
Anger flashed, and with it, hurt. Of course, to him, she was nothing but a whore, unfit to mingle with his grand friends and family. She was worthy only of his bed, and nothing more. And it would always be that way.
The School for Brides Page 15