Ashwick met her eyes before fully turning to leave Lorena. She watched him turn to Lady Harriet and take her hand as they walked up and into the ballroom. All Lorena could think about was just how perfect they seemed together. She touched one hand with the other, over the spot he’d kissed, believing it to be the last time.
Genie was in her ear before Lorena could complete her thought. “Did you see the way he looked at you? He is completely—”
“For someone else,” Lorena quickly said.
Someone like Harriett.
Lorena started for the door again but Genie’s arm stopped her from leaving. “Let us at least stay and be social. This is your first invitation since your parents’ passing. There are those who would want to know that all is well.”
But all wasn’t well. Lorena had just witnessed the man she loved walk away with another woman. So much had changed in a year. Of course, he’d never said he had any intentions toward her, and why would he? She had no money, and they’d shared one impulsive kiss over a year ago.
She wanted to fall through the floorboards and never return.
Instead, she rushed from the room and toward the hall, heading in a direction that held fewer guests, not stopping to take in Ashwick’s vast collection of art. Vases lined the halls and paintings adorned the walls. She’d never been to his residence herself, but she’d heard of its grandeur. Her mind wouldn’t allow her to think on it for long.
She came to a hall that was completely empty. Genie appeared as if from nowhere.
“Lorena, you can’t avoid him all night.”
Lorena had a prepared response for this but paused as she heard a noise. Then she heard another that sounded like something heavy hitting the ground.
“What was that?” Genie asked.
They both turned to look down one of the long corridors and watched as a man emerged. It took Lorena a full moment to comprehend why she couldn’t make out his face from this distance. Chills ran through her, and she noticed his shabby attire and that in his hand he held a box.
A box that obviously did not belong to him. In fact, she was sure it very much belonged to Ashwick.
He started toward them at a run.
Genie screamed.
The man cut down another hall.
Lorena followed.
“Lorena!” Genie shouted. “What are you doing?”
Lorena picked up her skirts and ran, aware of Genie’s quick footsteps right behind her. She passed an armed statue and noticed when she didn’t hear Genie’s feet anymore. Then she heard a grunt. She turned around and noticed Genie struggling to untangle her dress from the metal on the statue’s armor. Unlike Lorena, Genie was dressed in a stunning pale blue evening gown.
But Lorena had no time to wait for Genie. She ran, following the direction the man had fled until she saw movement in a formal dining room. The man was opening a window when Lorena paused at the door.
“Wait!”
The man turned to look at her and fear gripped her. Dark eyes stared at her from the other side of the mask.
Then he turned back around, grabbed the box, and while climbing out, knocked a heavy candelabra from the table with his foot.
Then he was gone and flames burst from the floor. The curtains by the window caught fire first, then a carpet and the wallpaper. It was a disaster. She looked around, spotted a table liner, took it from the table, and began to try and fan the flames away, but then they grew, up toward the ceiling and circling the room.
A strong arm grabbed her and pulled her from the hot room.
She was lifted and carried down the hall. It took her a moment to realize just who was carrying her.
Ashwick did not look happy.
Flames poured out of the room and into the hall.
“What did you do?” he asked.
“Me?” Lorena gripped his neck as they started down the stairs. “We have to save Genie.”
“How do you think I found you?” he asked as he adjusted her.
Lorena tried to ignore how hard his body was as her side was pressed into his chest. The arms that held her were also strong.
They made it to the foyer, and Lorena noticed the house had been emptied of guests.
Lorena looked over Ashwick’s shoulder and saw the flames licking down the halls. “Your house,” she whispered as they made it outside.
Only when they were at the street did he put her down. They both turned to watch fire through the windows as it quickly consumed every floor.
The townhouse was gone, along with his vast collection.
Lorena’s heart fell. “Ashwick—”
“A moment,” he said, raising a hand to silence her as he watched his home and his worldly possessions burn before his eyes. He simply stood there for a long time, staring at the building and doing nothing but breathing deeply and slowly. The lights of the flames danced across his features, emphasizing the turmoil in him. Then he closed his eyes and asked, “What happened?”
Lorena hated the words she spoke, but said them because they were true. “There was a man in a white mask.”
He frowned.
“I don’t jest,” she quickly said. “A man was stealing something from your house and I thought—”
“To chase him?” he asked, his voice growing. His eyes were wide. “Why not call for help? You could have been hurt.”
“Ashwick—”
“You could have died!” he shouted.
Lorena looked around and saw that the other guests were standing on the street. Some stared at the burning building while others had turned to look at him. She’d done it again. Her first night back in society, and she’d managed to ruin yet another party. She should have left when she first thought to do so.
Lorena ducked her head and said, “Ashwick…” She gasped and stopped talking when he stepped closer. She lifted her head to look into his eyes.
He lowered both his head and his voice and while holding her eyes said, “You owe me.”
Lorena swallowed and shook her head. “I didn’t do it. It was the man in the mask.”
“You owe me,” he said again.
Her chest hurt and she knew she’d never have the money to rebuild his home. He knew it as well as her. “Ashwick, I didn’t—”
“We need to talk, Lorena,” he said even lower. “You and I will talk.” Then, in a blink, he walked away, leaving Lorena trembling with apprehension. She thought of the other times she’d spent in Ashwick’s presence…
CHAPTER ONE
Lorena remembered the first time she’d met Lord Ashwick. It had been the night of her debut into society. She’d been fifteen and, up until that point, Lorena had always had the very best of everything. As the daughter of a duke and an heiress, she’d had the best in tutors and governesses. Lorena knew how to read and write both Latin and French, the etiquette of fine speech, and by all accounts, had been the most beautiful woman of the season.
But what Lorena had never known until that very night was that while etiquette and grace did make a fine wife… money was much better and… her parents had very little of it.
The Duke of Valdeston, who’d never been known to make the best financial decisions, had squandered his family’s fortune in one terrible investment after another until the Cullips had been left with nothing. But Lady Constance’s parents, who had allowed their daughter to marry for the title, had written in her wedding contract a sum of money that could never be touched by the duke. Thus, Lorena’s mother had held onto just enough money to see to her daughter’s first Season, Francis’ country parties, and ensure her children’s happiness. Though it was no secret that happiness for Constance Cullip, the Duchess of Valdeston, meant having a daughter who married quickly.
And, why wouldn’t she?
Everyone thought so highly of her, though she was known to be slightly curious. A thing that many believed a strong husband could cure her of. Lorena didn’t think so, but she smiled nonetheless.
She was beautiful.
She knew how to say, “What a fine day we are having,” in both Latin and French.
She could set a table well enough to host the king.
Lorena was sure she’d have married during that first Season, many years ago, if she hadn’t met Lord Ashwick.
She’d danced the first night with several gentlemen, but either they’d all been friends, had been old enough to have attended Oxford when her grandfather had, or young gentlemen who had simply not asked to pay a call on her in the future, and that alone had given Lorena some worry. Then she’d heard the whispers of her father’s finances, which had resulted in her fleeing the ballroom. Upon entering the drawing room, Lorena had frozen at the sight of a man standing only a stride away.
Emmett Starr, the Earl of Ashwick, had been the most beautiful thing Lorena had ever set her eyes upon. He’d been speaking to a group of other gentlemen, Lorena’s brother Francis among them, but Lorena only had eyes for him. She’d been stunned again when he’d smiled, and thought surely Ashwick was the one. Soft creases had formed around his eyes and a few at his mouth as he spoke.
Lorena had forgotten how to blink when she’d gazed at his mouth and a strange sensation had made her stomach flutter.
Look at me.
Her mind had pleaded for his eyes, sure that with one look, he’d fall madly in love with her, just as she’d fallen for him.
Look at me. Please, look at me.
His head had turned and the hairs on the back of Lorena’s neck had risen.
Their eyes had met.
Cool gray eyes, rimmed by darkness and even darker lashes.
Without thinking, Lorena had taken a step toward them.
As her foot caught hold of dress, she went down, and foolishly, Ashwick had tried to save her. Her face hit something. Hard. There had been blood. Screaming. Glass broke, and Lorena could still hear her mother shouting for someone to save her dress.
And just so, fate’s reign over her life had begun.
* * *
Two Years After Lorena’s Debut
May 1812
The First day of the Valdeston Country Party
“They’re here!” Genie cried as she rushed into the drawing room. Her smile reached her green eyes, which matched the green of her muslin dress and made her red curls stand out in a fashionable way. Genie, on a normal day, was ‘adorable’, but when she grew excited, she often reminded Lorena of a rabbit, happy and delightful in a mischievous way. Genie’s hand went to the gold crucifix that hung around her neck, as if touching it for luck.
The Duchess of Valdeston’s eyes went wide as she asked, “They are?”
Lorena rushed over to the window and watched as the carriages approached and grinned. They were here. At her side, Genie pressed herself to the window, almost touching it with her nose as her eyes remained glued to the driveway. The sunlight picked up the gold in her burgundy hair.
Genie sighed and said, “Oh, I do love Francis. I can only hope he’ll return my favors soon.”
“He’d be a fool if he didn’t,” the duchess said with a smirk. She loved Genie just as much as Lorena did. She’d also been instrumental in many of Lorena and Genie’s schemes to get Francis and Genie alone, and Genie was all too thrilled at the thought of allowing Francis to compromise her. Lorena knew that part of her mother’s motivations were linked to the fact that Genie was an heiress and any man who stood to wed her would gain a fortune, but Constance also simply adored Genie as her own daughter. Genie’s mother was gone, her beauty and the crucifix being her parting gifts, and Lorena’s mother had taken the girl under her wing.
“Of course, Francis will one day fall madly in love with you,” Lorena said. “And one day you will be my sister.”
Genie’s smile widened. “I would love that.”
They held hands and watched as the men stepped out of the carriage, one beautiful man right after the other, and Lorena couldn’t help but catch her breath at all of them. Every male of her brother’s acquaintance could easily be described as the most beautiful in London.
Each man captured attention by themselves, but together… no woman stood a chance of not losing her heart.
There were ten of them in total, and they were often called the Men of Nashwood. Nashwood was a tavern close to Oxford that young gentlemen hung about but when Francis and his friends finished Eton and moved to Oxford, they’d all but taken over the place. The owner, Lorena had been told, had even made a special section just for Francis and the men. No one could look anywhere else when they were in sight but Lorena’s eyes rarely ventured away from Ashwick.
“Look.” Genie pointed a gloved finger down at the dark-haired figure climbing from the carriage. “It’s Lord Ashwick.”
Lorena sighed, closed her eyes, and prayed no disaster wouldn’t befall her during this party.
With Constance’s own funds, Francis was allowed to have one country party a year for his friends, and though Lorena knew them all, she’d only met Ashwick recently. He’d been Francis’ friend for years but had never joined the others for the party until after his father’s death.
“Come, girls,” Constance said at the door. “We must go greet our guests.” The beautiful duchess, with her blond hair and blue eyes, glowed as she led the way.
Genie giggled and followed with Lorena quickly behind her.
Lorena heard Genie’s feet rush down the hall and tried to quiet the pace of her rushing heart. In the foyer, they started down the stairs just as the door was opening. Immediately, the house was filled with the deep laughter of men. Their very own Mr. Calvin Mallory was telling a joke, which didn’t surprise her. Lorena had no idea what he was speaking about, but whatever the subject, most likely inappropriate, it caused their butler to clear his throat. Immediately, the hall grew quiet.
The men turned, still in the midst of their grinning, and stared at the women.
Lorena let her eyes wander over the entire group to make it not appear too obvious who she was seeking. As a fact, she avoided Ashwick’s eyes entirely, knowing that with one look, she would give away the depth of her heart.
Francis stepped out from amongst his friends and rushed over to give the duchess a kiss. “Mother,” he said with a teasing glint in his blue eyes.
Constance’s smile widened. “Francis, I’m so very glad you’re here. How was school?”
Francis lifted a brow. “It was and it’s over,” he announced. “We’re just glad to be out.” Then his eyes moved over to Lorena, and she was very ready when he wrapped her up in his strong arms and swung her around the room once. “Lorena!” he shouted with affection.
Lorena broke into laughter and wrapped her arms around him tightly. “Oh, Francis, I’ve missed you terribly.” And until that very moment, she hadn’t known just how much she’d missed him. She always missed him whenever he went away to Oxford. She and Francis were close. For a long time, she’d been jealous of his friends, knowing they owned much of his time. When the country party was over, Francis left to go to one of their houses. It was a tradition amongst the men to visit one another and steer clear of the Season at all costs. Francis and the others had only appeared at her debut because it was her debut. Otherwise, none of them would have been there.
Lorena found herself passing around hugs to all the men she’d grown to love. Many accepted her like a younger sister while others teased her shamelessly. They’d all been there for her debut to support her, had danced with her, and stood around her like the wolves that they were. Often, Lorena wondered if they were the reason that no gentleman at her debut had asked to pay a call on her.
Genie greeted the men as well, having known them for most of her life as well. She flirted and laughed with a few, but everyone knew who her heart was set on. When she turned her head to Francis, her eyes showed all the love she had for him. “My lord,” she said teasingly.
Francis went over and kissed her hand but the smile left his face. He was watching Genie with a very serious expression. “Lady Genevieve,” he whisp
ered.
Genie looked ready to faint.
The duchess said, “Francis, must you be so formal? It’s only Genie. Greet her as you would a friend.”
“That’s the problem,” Mr. Calvin Lockwood murmured. “She doesn’t look like any friend he knows.”
The men chuckled.
The duchess made a fussy sound and gave Francis a meaningful look.
Francis, whose eyes had turned to his mother, slowly looked at Genie. He stared at her and it seemed that a hush fell over the group as their eyes met.
Genie reminded Lorena of a forest creature, ready to pounce at any given moment, but it was very clear that if she jumped, it would be on Francis.
“Genie,” Francis whispered. He leaned over to brush his lips on her cheek.
And no one was surprised when Genie tried to turn her head to have their lips meet, but Francis had caught on to Genie’s ways. With faster reflexes, he brushed her cheek and leaned away long before Genie had time to move. Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
Genie frowned at not getting her kiss.
Francis gave her hard eyes, but even they could not hide the blush that crept over his cheeks.
His friends, being men, made encouraging celebratory gestures, like hitting Francis in the shoulder and knocking him around until he grinned.
Then Francis held his hands up and said, “I’m heading to the stables if anyone wishes to join me.” The invitation was only for his friends, and they followed him, more slowly, as he headed toward the back door. The women followed as well, if only to see them from the house.
Lorena had been caught up in the joy of having Francis home but she’d also been very aware of Ashwick. When she turned to him, his gray eyes were at the ready. Like a caress, they traveled down her body. He’d been the only one not to greet her or Genie, and Lorena was sure it was because he wasn't certain what to do. The party was always an informal affair, but there were moments when Ashwick didn’t seem like the informal type. Yet he fit in so well with her brother. Besides, he didn’t know her or Genie. Not as the others did. Thus, he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t greet them as sisters. They were not his sisters.
Alice’s Shameless Spinster’s Society Page 22