About an Earl (What Happens in the Ballroom)

by Diana Lloyd

  He’d done his best to staff and furnish the house over the past month, but it was still little more than an elegant blank slate. Taking on most of the Dunwoody servants who’d gotten left behind when their master abandoned Town, he hoped Jewel would take over the task of interviewing maids and footmen. She could take her time decorating as long as they had the parlor for guests and a bedroom or two.

  Maybe just one bedroom. The thought made him smile wickedly, but he swallowed down his next tantalizing suggestion and lowered Jewel to her feet as a footman ran to greet them.

  “My lord, my lady, shall I fetch tea?” The footman, Thomas, asked as he took Oliver’s hat and gloves.

  “Thomas!” Jewel’s mouth fell open in surprise. “I never thought to see you again.”

  “His lordship was kind enough to offer me the position of head footman. An offer I was happy to accept.”

  “Where did they go?” Jewel asked.

  “Lord Dunwoody and his family sold the place and left for an extended visit to their estate in Scotland.” Thomas looked to Oliver before saying any more. “I was pleased to hear his lordship was the new owner, and my felicitations on your wedding, miss. I mean, my lady.”

  “The wedding isn’t until next week. I’m still a miss until then. You were always my favorite. I’m so glad you decided to stay on. You know, if you hadn’t delivered that note last spring, Lord Winchcombe and I wouldn’t have met. I will always be grateful for your service and your kindness, Thomas.”

  “You’re welcome, miss. Everyone here from before remembers how kind you were to the staff. We were most happy to hear you’d be the new mistress of the house.”

  “Thomas,” Oliver interrupted before Jewel and the footman settled in for a long cozy talk. “Have someone bring Miss Latham’s bags to the master’s bedroom and then fetch the bathing tub and place it in front of the fireplace there. After that, have Cook start heating water for a bath.”

  “Yes, my lord.” With a small smile and a nod, Thomas disappeared down the hallway.

  “The bedroom is for you, my darling. I’ll be staying at Clifford Street until the wedding. Mary Bartleby will be over first thing in the morning to stay until the wedding.” Jewel was still smiling, but less of it reached her eyes. “Don’t worry. Elvy and your Aunt Bettina will arrive by tomorrow afternoon. How your auntie thinks to organize the grand wedding of her dreams in a week’s time is beyond my comprehension as a mere male.”

  “Never underestimate the power of a determined female. She’s never had her own wedding; I am more than pleased to let her try to manage ours.”

  “The thought of a double wedding was just too tempting for her to pass up. She acted like it was a unicorn sighting. I think my ears are still ringing from her squeal of glee.” Someday he’d tell Jewel about her grandfather’s generous offer to secure St. George’s and pay for the entire affair. She was still leery of the old man. He’d let her come to terms with her feelings before sharing the terms of his settlement.

  “A double wedding. I can’t get over it. You and I and Penry and Mary will speak our vows together. I could not have imagined a more perfect ending for our adventure.”

  “Ending? This is our beginning! Come, my lady, I have something else to show you.” Taking her hand, he led her down the hall and through a sitting room to the ballroom where they almost met.

  “It better not be that Scottish Maiden,” Jewel teased.

  “This is much better.” Stopping to light the candles in a candelabra, he took another long look at his soon-to-be bride before throwing wide the doors to the ballroom. “Come in.”

  “I remembered this room so much bigger than it seems now. Do you suppose we’ll host any grand soirees?” She took a few steps into the room, her shoes clicking across the marble floor.

  “God, I hope not. I’m not ready for that much socializing yet. But if you want one, we’ll do it.”

  “I sometimes forget how much and how long you avoided the rest of humanity. You’ve come so far in such a short time.”

  “Only because of you.” He lit a few more candles around the perimeter of the room before walking back to close the door, leaving them alone and away from servants’ eyes. Turning to the side table where he’d placed his latest gift, he inserted the brass key and wound the machine until he heard an audible metallic click. “May I have this dance?”

  “There’s no music,” she replied, holding out her hands to him anyway.

  “Listen.” He slid the lever over and rushed to take her hand as the music began. “Our first dance in our new house.” The musical watchwork machine that he’d purchased from a jeweler on Ludgate Street began to chime tinny opening notes to a minuet.

  Side by side, they began the opening steps. Tentatively at first, but as the chimes continued, they fell into an easy rhythm. He was grinning like an idiot but so was she. They were doing a proper dance in a proper ballroom. In vastly different circumstances, they would have met this way. Would she have allowed him a dance, only to be sent away to Scotland, never to be seen again?

  “Fate,” he said as soon as the music wound down to silence. “I was just now thinking that we had to meet as we did. It was fate.”

  “It was something,” she said, slipping off her shoes and nudging them out of the way. “These aren’t good dancing slippers,” she explained. “They’re too noisy against the floor, and I want to hear the music.”

  “I’ll wind it up again.” Oliver sat down on the floor and began pulling at his boots. “I’m not going to be the clod that steps on your dainty toes.”

  “I’ll do it.” With half his attention on prying his foot from his boot and half on the machine that cost him more than he’d ever admit, he considered calling out directions. To his relief, his left foot joined his right in freedom just as the first chime sounded.

  Their second dance was decidedly less formal. Jewel twirled her dress while he added elaborate flourishes to each step. When the echo of the last chime faded, they lay together on the cool marble floor laughing at their own ridiculousness. Her cheeks were rosy and her perfect lips still smiling when he decided it was the perfect time to ask the question he’d been afraid to speak earlier.

  “Jewel, darling, we anticipated our vows and I was wondering…” He paused to find the right words.

  “No.” Her smile faded and was replaced with a thoughtful expression. “I’m not in a motherly way. I’ve never been, Oliver,” she said. “I don’t know if that is due to luck or inability. I meant to warn you before the wedding.”

  “Oh, sweeting.” He pulled her into his arms. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll always be enough for me.” He planted a tender kiss on her lips. “You are enough.”

  “Think about it overnight. If you change your mind about the wedding, just tell me.” She turned her face away and brushed her hand across her eyes. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

  “I am the happiest man on this earth. You and I match like bread and jam or beef and mustard. We need nothing else to complete us.” His words convinced her smile to reappear, and he traced his finger down from her lips to the valley between her breasts. “That doesn’t mean we can’t make industry of practicing.”

  “Lord Winchcombe, I am shocked,” she said with fake outrage. “Once again we have too much cloth between us. Pity.”

  “How right you are, but I have a remedy.” With boots already asunder, it was an easy thing for him to shrug off his coat and waistcoat, pull off his shirt, and peel off his stockings and breeches. Naked, he offered her his hand once again. “I vowed one day to kiss every inch of your body. To feel your skin warm and soft against my own without cloth barrier. Let tonight be that night.”

  She didn’t say anything at first, didn’t move or change her expression. Then, slowly, as if his words planted a seed of desire in her brain, she began to disrobe. Content to watch as each inch of skin was
revealed, he waited until the task was completed before laying his hands on her.

  They were no longer rushed, no longer tentative and uncertain. They were free of encumbrances and in love. Greedily, but with purpose, he took up her hand and placed it on his chest, encouraging her to explore at will. Starting at her shoulder, he pressed his eager lips against her skin. As he kissed her knee her legs fell open, exposing her sex to him and the candlelight.

  Working his way down the inside of her thigh with light kisses that barely touched, he kept her legs open until reaching his destination. It was an act he’d heard of only from ribald jokes and read of once, but she drew him like a magnet. Massaging her mons with one hand, he reached up with the other to caress her breast. She moaned with pleasure and wiggled herself against his questing fingers.

  As he slid one finger inside her, he put his mouth to her nether lips and kissed her at her core. He felt her hand at the back of his head, fisting in his hair and holding him in place as she rolled her hips to accept him more fully. A second finger joined the first, gently pulsing into her as his mouth licked and sucked. He’d never felt more powerful in his life.

  Their ragged breathing seemed to fill the entire room. All he could hear were her little mews of pleasure and his own heart beating in his ears. Propping one leg on his shoulder, her hips bucked wildly as her muscles fluttered and squeezed around his fingers until she cried out his name.

  Lying back against the cold stone floor, still breathing hard, they held hands in the darkness until they could speak again.

  “We’re going to do that every night,” Jewel said at last.

  “Were you well pleased?” He wasn’t going to be able to stop smiling for a week.

  “I love you.” She rolled into his arms and held him tightly.

  “I love you, too.” He’d never tire of feeling her skin against his, the tender touch of her hands, or those perfect lips. The ballroom that led to their downfall was now their secret place of joy. “In a few years, everyone will forget the brief scandal that happened in this house. We should start telling everyone we met in this ballroom.”

  “We’ll say we truly got to know each other in this ballroom,” she said before she started giggling. “Our wonderful, magical ballroom.”

  “I’m quite partial to this room.” He joined in her laughter. “From now on, only good and happy things will happen here.”

  …

  Oliver nudged his brother with his shoe as they waited in the pews at St. Georges for their brides to arrive. The Duke of Grasswick must have called in every favor owed over his long life to fill the place to the rafters with only a week’s notice. How Lady Bettina talked the vicar into allowing her to adorn every flat surface with flower-filled pots was a mystery to him. He nudged his brother a little harder.

  “Ow!” Penry yelped. “Why are you kicking me?”

  “Shut up, Pen,” Oliver snapped back. “I was trying to get your attention.”

  “You have it now and that of everyone else within hearing distance.”

  “Are they late?” He missed his pocket watch; the damned thing had kept decent time.

  “Who?” Penry replied, shaking his head.

  “The palace guards. Our brides, you twit. It seems like we’ve been waiting here forever.”

  “You’re just nervous. Not thinking of doing a runner, are you? I’m going to look awfully silly standing up there with two women.”

  “I’m fine. I just want it to be over with. Having all these people staring at me is making me nervous.”

  “Don’t worry, once the business gets started, they’ll be staring only at your back. We still look alike that way.”

  “What does Mary see in you? It can’t possibly be your charm and engaging wit, because you haven’t any.”

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “Truce.” Oliver kicked his brother in the foot again for good measure. The pews were tortuously hard, and he was starting to sweat. She’s coming, he told himself. Right now, her Aunt Bettina and Mary Bartleby were probably fussing over her hair or her gown. Or maybe they were getting themselves settled in the duke’s carriage. It didn’t really matter, as long as she was there soon.

  Suddenly, feet shuffled, throats cleared, and the crowd pulled themselves to their feet as the doors were flung open. There she was, on the duke’s arm, being led up the aisle, followed by Mary and her father. Elvy and Lady Bettina scurried in behind them and quickly took a seat. When the vicar stood with his prayer book in hand, Oliver’s lower lip began to tremble, and he bit into it to keep it steady.

  Jewel was a vision in pale silk and satin, and Mary wore the same. Or, maybe, they just looked the same to him. Either way, Elvy must have worked her fingers to the bone to have the gowns ready in time. He was about to poke Penry’s arm when the vicar gave the two of them a look that would melt stone. They were supposed to step forward—how had they both forgotten their instructions?

  He didn’t remember moving his feet but, somehow, Oliver was standing at the altar side by side with Penry as they watched their brides-to-be close the distance between them. She was so beautiful. He was a lucky, lucky man. No, time to think. He and Penry were supposed to do something else, what was it? Kiss her hand? No, not yet. He could feel the vicar’s eyes on him, burning a hole in the back of his fancy coat.

  Penry shuffled his feet. Damn. Were they supposed to turn around now? The vicar was talking—what was he saying? Introductions. Calm down, man. He and Penry turned at the same time, crashing into each other before getting it sorted out. Someone in the crowd snickered. If it was Eldridge Ashworth, he’d kill him.

  More words from the vicar. He really ought to be listening, but all he could do was stare at the woman who was about to agree to love him until death they did part.

  Once started, it seemed the vicar would never stop. Oliver chanced a look at Penry, but his brother had eyes for only Mary. Dear God, please make the vicar stop talking. Jewel looked up into his eyes and smiled. He loved that little dimple in her lips. He loved her entire face.

  The vicar cleared his throat, loudly. Lost in Jewel’s beauty, Oliver knew he’d missed something that was probably important. He was supposed to say something soon, wasn’t he?

  “I will,” he blurted out when the vicar’s eyebrow rose in question. It must have been right because Penry’s voice echoed after his. Next, it was Jewel’s turn. She nodded along as the vicar droned on, waiting for her chance.

  “I will,” she said at last, her voice soft and sweet as she looked deep into his eyes. He didn’t hear Mary’s reply to Penry but assumed it was affirmative. His hands trembled as he slipped the gold ring on Jewel’s finger, and she clasped his hand afterward and held on. Soon enough, feet were shuffling again as the crowd stretched their muscles and stood.

  Half the pews were empty by the time Jewel and he and Penry and Mary were ushered to the vicar’s office to sign the registry. Somehow, seeing their names entered together in the book made the marriage real and solid. But he’d always been a firm believer of the power of ink on paper.

  Leaving the church, they were showered with flower petals and grains of rice as all four ran to the duke’s carriage. Aunt Bettina had even hired street musicians to serenade as they drove away tossing coins to the crowd.

  “Oliver,” Jewel said, tugging at his sleeve. “We did it. We really did it.”

  “We did.” Tears filled his eyes as he recalled all they’d gone through to get to this moment. “We’re a good team, you and I.”

  Epilogue

  August 1, 1782

  “I see Penry’s coach.” Jewel jumped up from her chair and motioned to Oliver. “It’s such a pleasant day, let’s meet them out front.” Penry and Mary’s arrival would do much to settle Oliver’s nerves. Their first summer house party at the now completely refurbished Winchcombe Abbey had him on edge. He’d gotten ove
r his fear of attending such fetes years ago, but this was their first foray into hosting one.

  “You go. I’ll bring Frankie down.” They both knew the nanny would cluck her tongue at him, but Oliver never missed a chance to invade the nursery. Their six-year-old son, Benjamin Franklin Chalford, heir to the Earl of Winchcombe, was named after the man who’d helped secure her father’s release.

  Lord Benjamin was the apple of his father’s eye. “He’ll be delighted to see his cousins again.”

  Penry and Mary’s four boys erupted from the coach the moment it rolled to a stop. Laughing and stretching their legs from the five-hour journey, they ran around like bees circling the hive until they heard Frankie call out his greeting.

  Shrugging his shoulders at his sons’ exuberance, Penry helped Mary from the coach before greeting Oliver with a hug. Jewel planted a kiss on Mary’s cheek and whispered her plan into her ear.

  “The female sex is quite outnumbered here,” Mary said, just as Oliver and Penry attempted to herd the boys into the house. “Unless our next is a girl, I fear the odds are getting only worse.”

  “I’m sure you could use a bit of stretching, too, Mary. Take a walk with me.” Jewel waved to her maid who was waiting just inside with her reticule, shawl, gloves, and a bonnet.

  “I’d love to,” Mary said, nodding to Penry with a smile. “Help the boys expend a little energy, won’t you, dear?”

  “We’re taking advantage of a beautiful day and walking into the village to visit Elvy at her shop,” Jewel said to calm Penry’s and Oliver’s puzzled expressions.

  “Are you certain?” Oliver came to her side for her answer. “It’s a long walk, especially in your condition. I’ll take you in the gig.”