by Brown, T. J.
Sebastian claimed her moments later. She didn’t mind dancing with Sebastian, either, because she suspected his interest lay elsewhere and he had other motives besides wanting to dance with her.
The music hadn’t played four bars before she was proven right. “Why isn’t Prudence here?”
His voice was flat and Rowena stiffened in his arms. What had Prudence told him? That Rowena was the horrible sister who had stuck her in a servant’s role and then left her there? What could she say? That the accusations were true but she hadn’t meant any of it, so sorry? They had gone halfway around the dance floor before she finally responded. “My aunt would not welcome Prudence here.”
“And you don’t find that unconscionable?”
“What would you have me do about it?” she flared. She glanced around to see whether anyone had heard her. Lowering her voice, she continued. “The only way I could get my uncle to accept the idea of Prudence coming with us was to tell him she was our lady’s maid.”
“You could have left her in London.” His voice was accusatory and she winced.
“To do what? Uncle Conrad wanted to sell our London home.”
“He wanted to sell your home? He doesn’t now?”
Rowena bit her lip. She did not want anyone else to know that the house had been let out until she had a chance to tell Prudence. Prudence already felt betrayed. If she found out . . . “That’s not what I meant. I’m sure he is just as eager to sell our home as he was then, even though I have begged him not to. Besides, Lord Billingsly, what is your interest in all of this?” Rowena turned the tables on him, desperate to dodge this line of questioning.
He stared over her shoulder, his jaw set and his mouth firm. For several moments they whirled in silence as the “Blue Danube” played. There were so many dancers reflected in the mirror, twirling in so many brilliant colors, that it almost looked as if they were dancing inside a kaleidoscope.
“Would you believe my interest is impersonal in nature, or perhaps I merely have an unexplained interest in the treatment of servants?”
Rowena tilted her head back to get a better look at his face. The sense of humor she had noticed before revealed itself now in the curving of his lips, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, which held sadness in their dark depths. She shook her head. “No, I actually wouldn’t believe either of those things.”
“I didn’t think you would.” He drew in a deep breath before speaking again. “The truth is, I have found Miss Tate captivating beyond all normal reason and have since the first time I laid eyes on her. I dearly wish to get to know her better. Unfortunately, circumstances being what they are, I’m not sure that is possible, and at the end of every encounter I end up feeling either foolish or like a cad.”
Rowena’s heart constricted. She’d had no idea what events she would put into play by her careless bargain with her uncle. But what other choice did she have? “Prudence is special. Far too special to be put in the position I have unwittingly placed her in.”
“Then why did you?”
His voice was as short as the question and Rowena pulled her hand from his just as the music ended. She sensed his frustration and was sorry for it, but honestly, she couldn’t be held responsible for one more person’s misery.
“We were losing our home on top of just having lost our father. Should we then lose our sister, as well?” She whirled around to leave but he caught her by the arm.
“But isn’t that exactly what you’ve done? Haven’t you lost her just as surely as you lost your father?”
She jerked her arm out of his hand and stalked off, tears stinging at her eyes.
A bell sounded and her aunt Charlotte stood near the orchestra and clapped her gloved hands softly. When the crowd quieted, she gave a gentle smile that belied the steel underneath the ladylike exterior. “I would like to personally thank everyone for coming. My husband and I feel so blessed to have so many wonderful friends. It’s now time to light the Buxton family Christmas tree. Please help yourself to a glass of champagne and my husband will make a toast. There will be a buffet at the far corner of the room after, and of course, the dancing will go on for hours yet.”
Rowena wanted to sneak out of the ballroom and go hide in her room, but she couldn’t possibly do it now. She had committed to be involved in the prank and she couldn’t back out. She took a deep breath and, as nonchalantly as possible, slipped a handful of firecrackers from the miniature velvet bag she wore attached to her wrist. Victoria, Elaine, and several other young women did the same thing. If anyone noticed the little velvet pouches the young women carried on their wrists as they used to carry dance cards, they no doubt thought it a new fashion. The pouches were Elaine’s idea. They not only allowed them to sneak in a large number of firecrackers, but they also let the women take an active part in the prank. And to think Elaine used to be such a starchy young miss.
There was a flurry of activity as everyone snatched fluted crystal glasses from the servants circulating in and out of the crowd. Not looking her in the eye, Sebastian passed her quite close and bumped her gently as she passed him the firecrackers.
As Lord Summerset began speaking, the young men of the Coterie began moving casually to different points around the room. Elaine had been correct—there were so many candles about the room that lighting the firecrackers wasn’t a problem.
Rowena’s uncle came to stand next to his wife and slipped a hand about her waist. They stood together, tall and statuesque, regal in their bearing and mien. Together they were a shining example of privileged British aristocracy. “As my wife says, Providence has seen fit to bless us with so many good friends to celebrate the Yuletide season with,” Lord Summerset began. “Let us forget all our cares, such as the labor movement”—he paused as many of the men laughed—“and enjoy ourselves. A toast to all that is good about our fair country.” He held up his glass and everyone held up their glasses before drinking.
Rowena clutched her champagne glass but didn’t raise it to her lips. As everyone took a sip from his or her glass, the multicolored lights on the eighteen-foot tree lit up in a rainbow of brilliant colors. There was a gasp of appreciation from the crowd moments before an earsplitting snapping and popping sounded from all corners of the room.
In spite of having braced herself for it, Rowena still jumped and several women screamed. One old woman fainted as a thick smoke wafted through the room. For a few moments the noise was deafening and then it waned after the last of the firecrackers died down and the crowd realized what had happened. Only someone was still in hysterics.
Everyone turned toward the balcony to where a cluster of servants stood, watching the ball. Prudence, still in her finery, stood with her arms about Susie, whose screams slowly subsided into a terrified whimper.
Rowena stared at Prudence and her stomach plummeted, for the look on Prudence’s face was unlike anything Rowena had ever seen from her typically amiable friend. Two high spots of color stood out on her cheeks, and determination sprang from the set of her fine jaw and the slashing line of her mouth. Even from far away Rowena could see the fire in Prudence’s eyes as they blazed out at someone in the crowd. Rowena gave a quick prayer of thanks that the look wasn’t aimed at her. Then she followed Prudence’s gaze and with a shiver of deep apprehension realized the person Prudence was staring at with such scorn was staring back at her, just as fiercely.
Aunt Charlotte.
* * *
The next morning, Rowena sorted through the pile of ice skates, searching for a pair that looked as if they might be close to her size. She’d been tentatively enthusiastic about the impromptu skating party her cousin had thrown together, thinking it would be a good way to get away from the house, but now she wondered why she had bothered to come at all. Victoria had skated away with Kit the moment he arrived, and though Rowena had at first worried about her sister’s breathing, she noticed the young man being uncharacteristically accommodating of his charge by skating slowly and taking plenty o
f breaks. Rowena smiled as she watched her sister. She looked ethereal today in a peacock-blue fur-trimmed cloak she’d borrowed from Elaine.
She’d been surprised that Aunt Charlotte had let them all come out to the frozen pond unchaperoned, but after the prank last night, her aunt no doubt realized that the young people needed an outing that would expend their energy, as well as keep them out of her hair as she entertained her other guests. If her aunt only knew, Rowena thought, watching as one of the girls passed cigarettes to the others. Smoking in public! Judging from the way everyone acted, it wasn’t the first time.
Rowena finally found a pair of skates that would fit and sat on a nearby log to put them on. The last time she had gone skating, Prudence had accompanied her and they had helped each other with their skates. This morning, Prudence hadn’t even shown up to help her dress, which at first had irritated her and then made her cheeks burn with shame. They’d never had to tell each other their whereabouts at home. The thought of home made her want to throw her skates to the ground. Their personal items were no doubt being packed and shipped to them as she sat wrestling with a stupid skate, and she still hadn’t gotten the nerve to tell Victoria that they couldn’t go home, let alone Prudence.
She finally stood up and took a couple of hesitant steps onto the ice, wondering whether she still remembered how to skate. There were several ponds either on or adjacent to Summerset property, but this was the only one wide enough and shallow enough to freeze all the way across on a regular basis. The Buxtons and others from town could skate here almost every year. In the summer, it was mostly a frog pond for young boys to play in.
Thinking of Prudence made her remember the look her aunt and Prudence had exchanged the night before. Worry tensed her neck and shoulders. Prudence had no idea what their aunt was capable of. You did not want to be on her bad side.
Colin clapped his hands, interrupting her thoughts. “Coterie!” he called before skating up to her and performing a sliding stop that sprayed snow all over the hem of her dress. She was about to protest, but the smile he gave her was so cheeky, she couldn’t scold him. She envied him his simple happiness, even though she knew that as he was being groomed for a life he didn’t really want, he couldn’t possibly be as happy as he acted.
The others skated over, some with more skill than others. She’d met them all last night of course, but couldn’t for the life of her remember their names. The one young woman she had really enjoyed, Lady Diana, had left with her parents this morning for, in her words, death by a deadly dull royal reception in London. There were about twelve of them in all, including all four Buxtons and their friends. Ages ranged from Kit, the eldest at twenty-six, to Victoria, who was eighteen. Rowena knew without asking that all were wealthy, highborn as well as high-spirited, and working very hard at thumbing their noses at established society while at the same time enjoying the privilege it afforded them.
Colin cleared his throat and Kit solicitously handed him a flask. Colin took a long drink and nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, my good man. Now, you’ve all met our cousins, the honorable Rowena and Victoria. They wish to be considered for entrance into our humble club.”
One of the young women, a brassy blonde with bold Slavic features, laughed. “And when has a Buxton ever been involved in anything humble? And of course they can join. It’s not as though we have an admittance committee.”
Elaine laughed and held up her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Not even an itty-bitty committee, Daphne?”
“God save me from a committee,” Kit muttered. Victoria grinned up at him and Rowena frowned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Vic to be happy, but there was something about Kit that was so cynical. Rowena wasn’t sure that he could really be happy with anyone, let alone her excitable, imaginative little sister.
“Death by committee?” Victoria asked.
“Surely it wouldn’t take death to become one of us, as none of us are dead. But I’m finding the whole thing rather moot. You’re either Coterie material or you are not.” Daphne shrugged.
“But exactly what makes up Coterie material?” Rowena was finally roused enough to ask. “Seems to me the entrance requirements are rather vague.”
Sebastian laughed. “I think the whole club is rather vague.”
A horn of a motorcar blared behind them and they turned to see a Buxton vehicle arrive, carrying several servants. Another one chugged past them and parked on the other side of the pond.
After exiting the car, two of the servants went to the back of the vehicle and pulled out several large baskets from the rear seat. Another brought out a folding table and began setting up what appeared to be a hot luncheon. Andrew approached Colin and stood at attention. “Excuse me, sir. Your mother sent us with refreshments.”
Colin waved his hand. “But I thought we had brought refreshments?” He peered into a small basket that had been sitting on the bank. “Elaine, all you brought was hot chocolate and spirits?”
Elaine shook her muff at him. “You said we should rough it.”
Andrew stood at attention, waiting to be dismissed so he could help the others set up their food. Rowena frowned, noticing a cut above one eye and a bruise across his brow bone. Had he been in a fight?
While Colin and his friend verbally sparred over the definition of “roughing it,” Andrew stood, waiting to be dismissed.
“Thank you, Andrew. That will be all,” Rowena said, unable to bare his awkward, erect stance any longer. The footman gave her a nod of gratitude and hurried up the bank to the auto.
Colin looked at the decanter in his hand. “Well, as long as it’s out, let’s drink to the new members.”
Victoria’s face fell. “What? No pledging of blood or secret initiation?”
“You can always jump down a rabbit hole,” Kit drawled next to her, and again, Rowena saw the complicit smiles they gave each other. Was there something more than just an innocent flirtation going on between them, something she should know about? Not for the first time she felt the overwhelming responsibility her father’s death had created for her. Why did she still feel so unequal to the challenge?
“No blood as yet,” Sebastian said, speaking for the first time. “The opium dens all come later.”
Everyone laughed as the servants picked their way down the bank with trays piled high with sandwiches. Rowena twitched her shoulders, out of place and out of sorts. The servants had brought chairs for the ladies and set them up on the edge of the ice. Victoria sat down and patted the chair next to her.
“Come eat with me, Ro. Aren’t you famished?”
From across the pond where the other vehicle had stopped came a loud hooting. The others, busy with their food and flasks, took no notice, but when Rowena glanced over, she saw the servants all looking over at their group and laughing. Rowena flushed, watching the servants weaving in and out of the skaters, serving them their tea and hot chocolate. She supposed they did look like a bunch of pampered children instead of a group of adults who were perfectly capable of packing, serving, and eating their own food.
Her eyes narrowed as she spotted a redheaded man looking her way. It couldn’t be Jon, could it? Her heart pounded. Though she’d sent him a note thanking him for a lovely afternoon, she hadn’t heard back from him except for the nightly visits of his plane.
He was sitting on a rock and watching his companions skate. Every once in a while she heard him call out to his friends, and the sound of his voice sent her pulse racing. Without thinking, she set her half-eaten sandwich back on the silver salver, much to Andrew’s surprise.
“Sorry,” she muttered, before skating off. Halfway across the pond she almost changed her mind and turned back, but his companions had noticed her beeline across the ice and had correctly surmised that she was headed for them. They came together as a group surrounding Jon, who looked more handsome than ever with the cold adding color into his high cheekbones and his unruly dark red hair all askew as if he’d just taken off a cap. A flickerin
g of his eyes was the only surprise he showed as she approached.
She came to a careful stop in front of him and gave all the young men a nervous smile. As loud and unruly as they were before, they had lapsed into a group as bashful as choirboys, though they all looked to be in their midtwenties.
“Hello, Jonathon. How is your ankle?”
Four pairs of eyes widened at the use of Jonathon’s name and the others turned toward him accusingly. His cheeks grew even redder under their scrutiny. “It’s much better, thank you. Though not quite up to ice-skating standards, mind you.”
“And how do you know my rascally brother, miss?”
Startled, Rowena turned toward the young man who had spoken. Yes, there was a certain resemblance, especially about the eyes. He stared at her boldly and she raised her brows. “You might say he fell right into my lap,” she answered tartly.
Jonathon laughed and stood up carefully. He took her arm as if to claim ownership and Rowena blushed, rather liking the sensation. “Gentlemen, may I present to you one of the New Women. Don’t cross her, as she’s liable to take you down a notch or two with her very sharp and emancipated tongue.”
There was a guffaw among the men and Jonathon’s brother stepped forward.
The man’s eyes swept over her in appreciation, and Rowena was glad she’d dressed sensibly for the occasion. Instead of wearing fur as the other girls had, she had donned a slim-skirted, blue-ribbed skating suit and matching cap and dark blue wool gloves and scarf. A sensible, no-nonsense dress, though trousers would be far more sensible for skating than a skirt could ever be.