“Certainly.” Joshua shoved his hand. “This Enzo? Might he be available?”
DuChamp was mixing pigments, a cobalt blue, readying himself for the second session. The group of voyeurs was not invited to attend. The painter’s demand? Or the subject’s?
“He will be back in a few days,” DuChamp said offhandedly.
So will I, Joshua thought.
* * * * *
“Mama, I’m sorry I missed Christmastide again.” Joshua kissed his mother’s cheek, the Dowager Duchess of Sterling.
“I got your note. So what is this infirmity that kept you from seeing me the moment you returned to London?”
He laughed at her not-so-subtle reproof.
He’d been home for a week, settling in at his residence on Jermyn Street before all of London knew of his return. The extra time also allowed him to recover from the unfortunate incident in Paris. A saber cut nearly a foot long decorated his side and upper thigh. The physician who had stitched him up had done a damn fine job and there’d been little infection. “Snail’s pace” was the terminology the doctor had used in describing Joshua’s prognosis for the next several weeks. He might as well be in London recuperating as any other place.
At least he could move now without anyone suspecting he’d been in a brawl over a woman.
Elfers, his valet, had traveled with him all these years and had been busy with necessary arrangements—those things at which Joshua floundered. Elfers was a man who could get things done. Joshua appreciated him now more than ever.
Perhaps he should feel guilty he’d waited several days before seeing his family. The stabbing pain that greeted him as he leaned to kiss his mother was a reminder that he’d done the right thing, allowing for more recuperation time after the strain of Paris and the travel home.
“Are you sure you want to know? My injury involved a certain unsavory quality I would prefer not to discuss with my mother.”
“I would remind you of my age and the fact I raised five sons. I notice there is still a slight limp.”
“It is nothing. A scratch.”
“Who am I but your mother? I still worry. Since it seems to have involved a woman, I hope you weren’t trying to rescue another damsel.”
“Another?”
“Oh my, must I name them all?”
“And I worry about your memory,” he said.
She laughed at him. “My selfless knight. I might not think it wise, but I am proud of you. I am only frustrated you cannot find women to save here in England.”
“I hope you didn’t take out your frustration on Adam,” he said.
“He has the good sense to put his family first.”
“He’s the duke. It is expected that he be responsible in all things. Let me say thank you again for birthing me third.”
“Hmpf. He’s as much a scoundrel as any of you. What you should be apologizing for is missing Adam’s wedding. And yes, I’m sure we are all happy you are not likely to be a duke of Sterling.”
There were now four heirs between him and a lifetime of servitude to the dukedom. He was ecstatic about that small gift.
Mother patted a place beside her on the couch. “Sit with me.” As he settled, the servants came in with a silver tea tray and two heaping platters of fruits, cheeses and biscotti which they settled on small tables in front of them.
The tea was brewed perfectly, the cheese cut into symmetrical pieces and the hot house fruit and vegetables were cored and carved into flowers and birds and even little fishes. He gulped down a cucumber bass.
“Did you hire a new cook?”
“Oh, no. While Fontaine might think he is aging gracefully, he is getting old, so he has brought his nephew from Marseille to apprentice. Clever little wonder, is he not?”
“I’ll say.”
“Well, if you ask me he is only trying to impress the new duchess. They were in London for the first week of the season. Adam couldn’t help but display his new wife, and the kitchen help outdid themselves trying to curry her favor.”
“And how are the newlyweds? Honestly, I am shocked beyond measure.”
“It is so like you to miss the obvious. You did not know Eloisa was his mistress?”
Joshua choked on his tea, reached for a linen napkin and dabbed at his chin. “His what? He married his mistress? Adam never said a thing to me.”
“How often have you been home in the past four years? Perhaps he was silent to protect Eloisa’s good name.”
“He would have said something. And what about Nell? I would have bet the Sterling fortune he would remain faithful to Nell until the end.”
“Tosh. He was always faithful to Nell while she lived.”
“But he loved her.”
“Love has nothing to do with ton marriages. If I have not instilled that in you, I have failed as a mother. Besides it is not my story to tell. It is Adam’s.”
“Did you love Father?”
“Oh, heavens! What a question.” She pursed her lips and looked down her aristocratic nose.
“Then I’m confused. Did Adam love Nell or not? Adam’s marriage to her is why your other sons aren’t married. We couldn’t live up to such high expectations.”
“Faraddidle! The truth is he is married to a worthy woman and I have never seen him happier.”
“Certainly I must meet this paragon. Does she have a sister?” Why was it Adam was so fortunate to have two women to love? He envied Adam that. And his sister, Candace, who seemed content in her marriage also.
“She is quite alone, aside from Lady Carvelle. She’s Eloisa’s aunt, you know. But that does make me wonder when you might settle. It is time you took a wife, Joshua.”
Sometimes it seemed he should give in to the inevitable—take a wife, fill the nursery and settle into a bucolic life somewhere near Long Leaf. He’d want his children to grow up as he had but with the caveat they would travel the world as a family once they were old enough.
Hmm, he hadn’t considered that his wife must be a traveler, or at least interested in it. Could he countenance more travel, knowing she was ensconced, alone, on a country estate?
“There is no hurry. And since you seem to know all the ton gossip, whose family might be in need of a fortune?” He was thinking of the nymph in DuChamp’s studio. An impoverished family was the only thing that made sense.
“What sort of rumormonger do you think I am? I would never discuss a family’s finances.”
“It is no big matter.” He was probably wrong anyway. Perhaps the lady in question was some virago who reveled in such wicked pursuits.
“And why would you wish to know such a thing? I was under the impression you cared little about anything that happened in London.”
“Well, I am home now and I must catch up.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough that I might enjoy a few weeks of ton entertainments.”
“A few weeks? That isn’t like you. You are usually chomping at the bit to be off on your next adventure. Has something changed?”
“No. Not really.” Yes. Something had changed. And part of it had to do with Adam’s remarriage. Jealousy combined with loneliness made for a depressing brew.
“Adam and Eloisa are still on their honeymoon at Long Leaf, so you shall be my escort tonight to the Carlisle’s ball. Perhaps there will be a young lady who might catch your attention.”
Unless she was a naked young lady, he doubted it.
What his family never understood about Joshua was that he was a complete introvert. He could bear ton functions, ton etiquette, ton behavior only so long before he felt the need to crawl away again and recover with a few weeks of solitude. Or a few years traveling around the world.
He was perfectly happy with a good book and a fine wine in the evening. Elfers understood him and was just as likely to pick up his own book while they sat in companionable silence. Honestly, he’d rather a beautiful woman joined him before the fire, a woman he could escort to her bedchamber every evening.
The Forresters’ reputation was painted with a broad stroke. Were they wicked rakes, no, but that wasn’t to say they couldn’t be rakes or that they couldn’t be wicked. Their renown seemed to stem from their varied pursuits. That in itself fed the gossip. It so happened that Joshua was the least likely to get into trouble or be implicated in some scandal.
Except for his Parisian kerfuffle six weeks ago. How he hoped the scandal had not gotten back to London. All three parties had an interest in keeping it quiet. Damn, he should have known better than to attempt to rescue a damsel in distress. Or trust a woman with lying eyes, who sided with her abusive husband when Joshua had challenged Boulanger. Pretend honor and affection? He should have skewered the scoundrel for the sake of the delusional wife, at least.
Joshua, however, was by no means a saint. A good book and a fine wine did little to relieve his physical needs. And as often as he felt the need, he set aside his introversion and proceeded to charm the skirts off the most eligible lady he could find.
Hence the duel and the near miss of his private parts.
This morning’s salon was just one of those indulgences with which Joshua filled his time, and it was less dangerous than rattling sabers with a fiend like Boulanger.
Joshua was a collector of sorts, a side effect of his desire to explore the world on his own. During his travels, he’d been diligent about purchasing rare manuscripts and vintage wines, and scouring markets for paintings that might have future value. He’d made Elfers promise that not one box of his treasures would be opened until Joshua was there to touch each of the bottles, leather bindings and rolled canvases.
Mother sighed beside him then sipped her tea. He poured another cup for himself.
“I will escort you, of course, but I would rather you not spend the evening attempting to matchmake. I know there are plenty of eligible ladies, but the timing does not feel right,” he said.
“Right? What nonsense. This is about a responsibility to your future.”
“Mother, I always believed my wife would be the one to nag.”
“You are not ready to settle. I do understand, but…if you took a wife, perhaps you would stay home. I miss my children.”
He set aside his cup and reached for his mother’s free hand. He squeezed lightly. “I’m home now. We’ll make the best of it, shall we?”
“Dear me. I promised myself I would not pester you and here I am practically in tears. Tell me about your travels. Your letters never tell me enough. When you left months ago you were on your way to India. Tell me more about Dehli.”
CHAPTER TWO
A STERLING CARRIAGE whisked Joshua home, and Elfers diligently prepared a bath, set out evening cloths, including a dress coat, pumps and silk stockings as well as an ironed cravat. The day turned into a misty mess by the time Joshua and the dowager duchess arrived at the mansion of Ralph and Serena Carlisle’s, Lord and Lady Hurst.
They were announced at the top of the staircase and descended, Mother holding tight to his arm and taking the stairs slowly to the main hall where the dancing had already started. A certain pervasive scent filled his nose—eau de ballroom. Beeswax candles mixed with strong perfumes and the fug of humanity stuffed into a tight space.
But there were few places that dazzled as much as a noble’s ballroom during the Season. The sparkle of glass in the chandelier, the shine of jewels, the cast of candlelight and silks the women wore—it could be quite overwhelming when one hadn’t been to a London ball in a number of years.
Any hope of going unnoticed vanished the moment his name was announced.
“Shall I find you later for a dance?” he whispered in his mother’s ear.
“Oh, do not worry about me. These shoes are ghastly for dancing anyway. How I will make it through the evening is beyond me.” She tapped him with her fan. “There is Lady Beckham. Deliver me there, my boy.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Joshua nodded to several distant acquaintances, former friends and important nobles. For the remainder of the evening, he would be required to renew connections, but for now, he greeted Lady Beckman.
“Ma’am.” He bowed perfunctorily.
Lady Beckham was ten years younger than Mother. At least.
But that didn’t stop her from turning an animalist gaze upon him, a lustful look that Joshua would ignore.
“Dear boy, it has been too long. How are you?”
“As well as can be expected.” He patted his mother’s hand. “I leave you in good company then?”
“A moment, Mr. Forrester. I would like to introduce you to my nieces,” Lady Beckham said.
“Your nieces? They are here? Why, I have not seen them since last summer,” Mother said. Then she turned a questioning glance to him, “You remember the Taylors? Their father owns land next to Long Leaf.”
Joshua could see the pleased smirk on her face, as if she had arranged the meeting. He remembered the Taylors. Little hellions who’d pestered all of the Forresters, except Adam. He’d been too old and too staid to put up with the girls.
A crash of memories flooded his brain, but they were all fragmented and the girls all seemed to morph into one image—plaited hair, freckles and missing teeth.
Lady Beckham reached for the elbow of one of the girls, gathered together in a group behind them. “Dearest. Come, all of you, and make your curtsey to Mr. Forrester.”
Oh, yes. They were familiar. The names eluded him.
“Mr. Forrester,” one said. Katherine. Kat was her name.
“Miss Taylor.”
In quick succession, there were introductions, bobs and bows. Prim smiled, Jenny raised one brow and Kat insisted upon the next free dance.
“And then you must dance with me,” Prim announced.
“But I’m afraid I’m not approved to waltz, Mr. Forrester. Perhaps a quadrille?” Jenny said. She was the youngest.
Joshua had left home when he was eight to attend Harrow, but the summers were spent at Long Leaf until he left for good at sixteen, first to attend university and then to travel. Some memories started to solidify as they talked. The Taylor girls weren’t shy wallflowers.
“As you wish,” he said.
They were attractive girls, certainly. Dressed to perfection, an innocent display of rounded breasts, beautiful teeth and smiles. The freckles had diminished. Each had their hair swept up but with tantalizing curls bouncing on their shoulders.
“And your parents? I haven’t seen them for a number of years.”
His mother whispered something to Lady Beckham; the Misses Taylor turned their not inconsiderable attention upon him.
“Papa is gouty and Mother stayed in the country to be with him. But we couldn’t miss the Season, now could we?” Kat added.
“It would be a tragedy indeed,” he said. “I suppose you are all diligently pursing a man with a fortune?”
They laughed, but Kat touched his arm. “Sir, how impertinent. One doesn’t discuss such things as money.”
“So I’ve been told, but I’d wager you do it anyhow.” They laughed at him. They were flirty things, making him smile but also causing a frisson of dissonance. How young were they?
“But Papa has a generous dowry set aside for us, if you are interested,” Prim said.
“Miss Taylor, now I remember why I left Long Leaf. It was to escape the flirtations of young misses.” When met with the force of such happy, adoring faces, one couldn’t help but give in. He shouldn’t be smiling at them. It would only encourage undue affections.
“You can still call us by our given names. We are neighbors, after all.”
“And I suppose you still mount your horse astride and gallop all over the countryside, hair down and disheveled?”
Kat pinkened.
“Of course she still does. Only she wears a proper bonnet now. Mama says it’s time she stopped acting like a hoyden.”
“Prim!”
“I won’t tell, Miss Taylor,” he said to Kat.
“I shoul
d think not, especially since it isn’t true.”
“That you’re no longer a hoyden?”
He should stop now. Flirting could get a man in a tangle that could not be untangled, except by a minister.
Joshua glanced over his shoulder to see the orchestra warming up. Of all the women at the Carlisle’s ball, the Taylor girls might be the safest. A good family and one central to some of the memories he had of Long Leaf. But three dances were only a short part of tonight’s festivities. He took a deep breath and, with one arm behind his back, held his other hand open, palm up, while Kat Taylor placed her hand in his.
He was reminded of Lord Chesterfield’s admonition. “Dancing is one of those established follies, to which people of sense are sometimes obliged to conform.” He wondered how many waltzes resulted in births nine months later.
Seeing Kat’s adoring gaze fixed upon him, Joshua reminded himself to frown as they took the first steps of the waltz. He had no intention of finding himself betrothed after one dance.
* * * * *
“Who is that dancing with my sister?”
Lady Charlotte Dunlevee stared across the dance floor, peering around the wide shoulders of a gentleman who had sought her as a dance partner. With Mama and Papa confined in the country, Char chaperoned her sisters to another ball, all in hopes of finding them suitable matches. With sisters like Kat, Prim and Jenny, she had to be very careful.
It was a tedious job. The same sort of men were considered eligible when she’d had her come out. Maybe it was even the same men.
To measure compatibility by title and wealth? One might as well toss darts at a board. Maybe she was wrong. Love matches were no less fraught with incompatibility and argument. Only it hurt worse.
She wanted her sisters to be happy, in an honest, hopeful way. Not with the cold reality so prevalent in London society.
Mr. Hibbert, her would-be dance partner, peered toward the man in question. “I say, isn’t that one of the Forresters? I think he is the one who fancies himself a world traveler. I’ve always thought him a bit of a snob.”
“Joshua Forrester,” Char said in a near whisper. “Thank you and good evening, Mr. Hibbert, but I see my aunt and I would have a word.”
Seven Nights of Sin: Seven Sensuous Stories by Bestselling Historical Romance Authors Page 29