The Earl of Ice

by Helen A. Grant

  When the young ladies arrived they removed their cloaks and bonnets and followed their mothers into the drawing room of the grand town house. The room was already crowded and Caroline scanned the room searching for Henry Straw, eventually locating him lounging by the window in conversation with Oliver Stannington and Lord Cotson. Pulling Diana behind her, she headed across the room in his direction. Diana, realizing what she was about, pulled her to a halt to offer some concerned advice.

  “Caroline, do you not think you may be seen as chasing Mr. Straw if you seek him out so directly?” She knew Caroline had feelings for the young man, but as there had been no verbal indication of his intent, Diana did not want to see her friend hurt or become the topic of unkind gossip.

  “Oh, I never thought,” murmured Caroline. She need not have worried, however, for Henry Straw spotted her and immediately disengaged himself from his companions and began walking toward her, his long legs quickly covering the distance. The smile that lit up Caroline’s face could leave him in no doubt of her affections. He gave her a ready smile in response, and Diana felt reassured and happy for them.

  Diana herself had received a lot of attention, but as yet had not begun to form any attachment. Lord Cotson showed a marked interest in her, but she did not encourage him. She found him pleasant company and handsome, in a dandified sort of way, but his flowery compliments did not win her over. She sighed, for although she was truly enjoying her season, she did envy Caroline a little for having found the romance that had thus far eluded her.

  People were drifting into the card room, and Henry Straw had secured Caroline to partner him for a game of whist. Diana, not an accomplished card player, drifted around the room watching and stopping to talk with one or two people. After a while, hot and bored, she decided to visit the cloakroom and freshen up. She drifted out of the card room and headed for the entrance hall from which the great staircase led to the first floor and the cloakroom. The cloakroom was mercifully cool, and after splashing cold water on her face and tucking in stray wisps of her hair, she felt she ought to return to the party.

  Descending the stairs slowly, Diana tried to decide where to go. She could return to the card room and watch the play, or she could join her mama, who had remained in the drawing room to gossip with her friends. She still had not made up her mind when she reached the bottom of the stairs and stood for a while trying to make a decision. Neither option really appealed. So engrossed was she in her thoughts that she had no awareness of her surroundings—until a nearby male voice made her jump.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” drawled Rollo, who had just entered through the front door and seen Diana standing motionless. He had, in fact, been watching her for a couple of minutes before saying anything. The thin fabric of her cream muslin gown allowed him to glimpse an outline of her small shapely figure and the promise of a fine pair of legs.

  Diana brought her gaze to the gentleman in front of her. Unbidden her pulse began racing and she feared she might faint.

  “Are you unwell?” he questioned as he saw her face pale.

  With a huge effort Diana took a deep breath and mentally chided herself for having such a reaction. She had been startled, but now, recognizing the gentleman as the Earl of Brockwood, she calmed sufficiently to answer him.

  “I am afraid I was woolgathering,” she explained. “I am trying to make a mighty decision as to whether I should return to the card room and watch the play or to go join my mama in the drawing room.” Her wry smile demonstrated that she was laughing at herself for being so indecisive.

  “Let me help,” Rollo offered. “Pray explain the advantages and disadvantages of each option and I may be able to assist you with your decision.” Although he did not smile, Rollo was sufficiently amused to continue the dialogue.

  Diana, realizing he was playing along with her, pretended to take careful thought before replying, “Well, I am a poor card player, so the card room does not hold much appeal. I know very little gossip, so I shall not be much sought after in the drawing room. Hence my predicament.”

  “Is your friend not here to keep you company or do you not have a bevy of beaux to pay court and amuse you this evening?” he probed.

  “Alas, my cousin has deserted me to partner a handsome young gentleman in a game of whist, and I find that my ‘bevy of beaux’ appear to be otherwise occupied tonight.” Diana smiled and her eyes danced in amusement.

  “I can indeed understand your predicament. ’Tis very sad.” Rollo was enjoying himself. He could not remember the last time any lady had dared to enter into this type of lighthearted repartee with him. He noted that his customary harsh, schooled expression was having little, if any, effect on Diana. He would have expected this realisation to annoy him but in fact he found that he did not, on this occasion, mind. “I may have an answer to your predicament,” he offered.

  Diana smiled at him, her perfect white teeth peeping out from behind rosebud lips. “I must declare, Lord Brockwood, that I would be grateful for any assistance you can give me.”

  “If I were to accompany you to the card room and take a turn around the room with you, this would create such comment that it would then allow you to retire to the drawing room with enough gossip to keep those ladies’ tongues wagging happily for the rest of the evening.”

  Diana brought a hand up to her mouth to muffle her delighted laughter at Rollo’s perception of the situation. Then she said in mock seriousness, “My lord, how can I refuse such a gallant offer? Had you not come to my rescue, I daresay that I may have still been standing here at midnight.” She placed her hand on the arm Rollo offered and proceeded with him into the card room.

  As they entered the room together, they were noticed first by one or two people, who turned their heads and commented to others. Within a matter of seconds murmurs spread across the room. For several moments it seemed that all faces were turned their way.

  Rollo, thinking that Diana may find this discomfiting, patted her gloved hand and said, very quietly so only she could hear, “See how my plan works?”

  Diana, her hand tingling from his touch, and feeling very brave on his arm, smiled and replied, also keeping her voice low, “I can see, my lord, that you are a great strategist.”

  “Perhaps I should become a leading politician or a general in the army,” he responded, causing Diana to struggle to stifle the laughter that bubbled up.

  To say that the people in the room were astonished was no exaggeration. Rollo was amused and pleased to see that Diana was not embarrassed and was taking this all in fun, as had been intended. The observers, of course, could not understand how Diana could appear happy and laughing whilst being escorted by the Earl of Ice. Certainly his face was the cold mask he always displayed, and humour had certainly never been known to be in his repertoire.

  After no more than five minutes walking around the card room and knowing his task was complete, Rollo steered Diana through to the drawing room and saw her settled in a chair close to her mother before making his bow and leaving her.

  Diana smiled to herself as she listened to the women around her. Surprisingly no one seemed to be aware of who had escorted her into the room, or if they were, saw it of little consequence. That is, until Caroline came to find her after her game of cards had finished and demanded, “Does the Earl of Ice not terrify you? Did he make you walk with him?” Her green eyes flashed with indignation, while the ladies in the room all turned to look at her.

  “No, he did not make me. He offered and I accepted. I am not frightened of him at all. I think that beneath his cold and stern exterior is a very good kind man,” defended Diana.

  “Oh, Diana, you have always been such a goose, always determined to see the best in people however awful they are. Remember that governess who was an absolute witch? You tried to convince me she was unhappy when all evidence showed that she just enjoyed being cruel to young girls.”

  “You may be right and I may be wrong about the Earl of Ice. Nevertheless he does no
t scare me in the slightest.” And with that, Diana refused to be drawn further into the discussion.

  Chapter 4

  Finally the big day arrived. Tonight was the Whittington Ball. The cousins were so excited they could not settle to anything that day. When it was suggested that they rest in the afternoon because they would be late leaving the ball, they informed their respective mothers that they would never be able to sleep.

  Caroline knew that Henry Straw would be attending the ball and was looking forward to seeing him there. Diana already had several promises to dance and was hoping her dance card would quickly be filled.

  Eventually the time came for her maid, Tilly, to help them to dress. Both girls had new gowns. Diana’s gown was made of white satin and had a pale pink sash at the high waistline with ribbons that fell down to the hem at the back. Other than a few pink rosebuds dotted on the hem and edge of the short sleeves the gown was very simple. The neckline was a little lower than those of her other ball gowns, but she had been assured by the modiste that it was quite acceptable. Her light brown hair was knotted at the back of her head, with tendrils of hair allowed to escape and frame her face. A handful of pink rosebuds matching those on her gown dressed her hair. New white satin dance pumps and long white gloves completed the outfit. As she twirled in front of the mirror, Diana was quite satisfied with her appearance.

  Caroline had chosen a yellow muslin fabric for her new gown. It was near the colour of buttermilk and flowed softly over her curvaceous figure. The gown was boldly trimmed with wide flounces at the hem and neckline in a contrasting pale green, a shade that almost perfectly matched the colour of her eyes. Her hair, a glossy chestnut brown, had been styled in a similar fashion to Diana’s and was trimmed with creamy pearls. Caroline wore a single pearl on a chain around her neck.

  Tonight was such an important event that both girls’ fathers were to accompany them, much to the girls and their mothers delight. Two carriages therefore left the town house that evening for Whittington Manor, situated in its own substantial grounds just beyond St. John’s Wood.

  The queue of carriages waiting in turn to disembark their passengers trailed all the way to the manor gates, and the circular nature of the driveway kept the house out of sight until one was almost upon it. Diana’s anticipation increased as they waited a full thirty minutes before it was their turn to alight. Her father, Lord Westbury, a gruff but kind-hearted man, was less enthusiastic, knowing from past experience that the ball would likely prove a most uncomfortable crush.

  When at last they entered Wittington Manor, their cloaks were whisked from them and they were immediately taken to be introduced to the Earl and Countess of Whittington, who were greeting their guests. Following this introduction, Diana hung back and waited for Caroline to join her, and then they went straight through to the ballroom together.

  The ballroom was breathtaking. Four magnificent crystal chandeliers provided enough light for the visitors to appreciate the painted domed ceilings and the richness of the decor. Gilt-edged mirrors reflected the illumination and cast shimmering areas of light on the large dance floor. The room had only minimal seating in the expectation that people would be dancing. A large adjoining withdrawing room provided ample chairs for those who wished to be seated.

  The orchestra was playing only background music, and the first dances would commence later when the majority of the guests had been greeted. Some of Diana’s and Caroline’s friends had already arrived and they joined this group. Slowly their dance cards filled up. Caroline purposefully kept two waltzes free in the hope that Henry Straw would claim these. Diana allowed both Oliver Stannington and Lord Cotson to each claim a waltz, but kept the third free, secretly hoping that the Earl of Ice may request a dance.

  Henry Straw had willingly claimed Caroline for the two waltzes she had kept free for him. One of these was the dance prior to the first break, giving him claim to take her for refreshments. As Lord Cotson had been Diana’s partner for the same dance, he escorted her. All the young people were grateful for the interval, as the ballroom had become uncomfortably warm, despite the doors and windows being flung open.

  Lord Cotson, cutting a dashing figure in his green-and-pink-striped waistcoat, was, as always, an attentive escort. He and the more soberly dressed Henry Straw procured seats for the two young ladies and went to find them some refreshment.

  “Champagne for the ladies,” Lord Cotson announced on his return.

  Diana, who was extremely hot and thirsty, downed the contents of her glass very quickly.

  “That was wonderful!” she declared, and when Lord Cotson offered her his own glass, she quickly accepted. Drinking this down, as well, she had to suppress a small burp as the bubbles did their work. Unused to the effects of champagne and feeling very benevolent toward Lord Cotson for giving her his champagne, she agreed that she would let him mark his name for the third waltz of the evening. She had seen the Earl of Ice arrive earlier, but much to her disappointment, he had made no attempt to speak to her or request a dance, and so she felt it foolish to reserve that waltz any longer. She did not, after all, want to be without a partner.

  Another hour of dancing went by before the music struck up for the third waltz of the evening and indicated the second break was imminent. In between dances Diana had been sipping the ice-cold champagne provided in an attempt to keep cool. By the time of the second break she was feeling decidedly lightheaded and thought she was in danger of passing out if she didn’t escape the heat and crush of the ballroom.

  Trying to excuse herself from Lord Cotson, she made for the large double doors that had been left open and led onto the terrace.

  “I must get some air,” Diana gasped, frantically fanning herself. She made her way outside, not waiting for Lord Cotson’s response. She knew he was following her, but she was too desperate to reach the fresh air to remonstrate with him.

  “That’s better,” she sighed as the cool outside air brushed her face. Suddenly her head began to swim. “Oh, my!” she said, and it was only Lord Cotson’s catching her in his arms that prevented her falling.

  * * *

  Why he did it Cotson could never afterward say—perhaps he, too, had overindulged in champagne. As Diana fell into his arms his brain told him that here was an opportunity not to be missed. He could win the bet with his friends and be two hundred guineas richer. With this in mind and the delightful Miss Wells relaxed against him, he waited until he spotted the Countess of Whittington heading in his general direction and then lowered his head and kissed Miss Wells full on her lips; at the same time he slipped his hand down her bodice and squeezed her breast painfully.

  Confused and shocked, Diana shrieked, “That hurt! What are you doing?” and tried to pull away.

  “Oh, hell!” Cotson swore softly as he felt and heard the delicate fabric of her dress rent as it snagged on his ring.

  Brought to his senses by Diana’s cry and struggles, Coston was mortified by what he had done. Miss Wells looked too stunned to move, so he pushed her away from him and, to his horror, watched her topple into the arms of the countess.

  “What is going on here?” the countess demanded, immediately realizing that poor Miss Wells was shocked, disoriented and somewhat the worse for drink. She pulled Diana to a bench and sat her down before turning to remonstrate with Lord Cotson, only to find that he had fled the terrace. The countess called a footman to fetch Miss Well’s mother, Lady Westbury, and waited with the girl until she arrived.

  “Oh, my dear!” Lady Westbury exclaimed as she took in Diana’s appearance and the torn state of her gown. “What happened to you?”

  The Countess of Whittingham filled her in on what she had observed. “I ask that you take your daughter home immediately; I will not tolerate such behaviour within my walls.” She did not want her ball to be associated with any scandal.

  Diana’s head was still swimming and she seemed unable to think clearly. All she knew was that she was in big trouble. She remembered that Lord
Cotson had followed her as she left the ballroom and also vaguely remembered him kissing her and grabbing her breast, but she could not think why he would do such a thing. She had given him no encouragement and she’d never had any reason to believe he was anything other than a gentleman. Her recollections were, however, extremely hazy and everything seemed to have been outside her control. She doubted that she could even stand. All she wanted to do was sleep and so she closed her eyes. Perhaps it was all a bad dream.

  The next thing Diana knew she was in her father’s carriage with her mother and they were almost home. When they arrived and got her inside, Tilly appeared, and because Diana’s legs were so wobbly, she had to be helped upstairs to her bedroom where she slumped onto the bed and promptly fell asleep.

  She awoke early the next morning as the sun peeped through a crack in the draperies at her window. Never in her whole life had she felt so poorly. Not even when she’d had measles as a child. Her head ached and she thought she was going to be sick, but the worst thing she felt was the gnawing fear that something dreadful had happened the night before. She lay very still—any movement increased the pain in her head—and tried to remember what had happened. She had been enjoying the ball, she remembered feeling very warm and wanting to go outside, but beyond that she could not remember anything. She could not remember leaving the ball, she could not remember the journey home, and she could not remember going to bed.

  Feeling desperately thirsty, Diana very carefully reached over and pulled the cord to summon Tilly. The maid came into the room and began to open the curtains; the bright sun hurt Diana’s eyes and she begged her to close them again and bring her some tea. Tilly’s sombre eyes only served to confirm that something was indeed very wrong; the maid was usually bright and cheerful when she entered Diana’s room, but this morning she was strangely quiet. Diana knew better than to question a servant, but usually Tilly was eager to pass on any household news. But this morning, other than “Yes, miss,” she had not opened her mouth before disappearing from the bedchamber.