by Regan Walker
Mr. Bywood appeared, greeting both girls and expressing his good fortune at finding them so early in the evening. Immediately he asked Mary to dance. She was eager to accept but begged him to wait for her uncle to return with their champagne.
They did not have long to wait. Her uncle rejoined the girls quickly, a servant in tow with a tray of bubbling champagne. Each of the girls and Mr. Bywood took a glass. Once they had drunk their fill, Mary joined Arthur Bywood on the floor. Her uncle and Elizabeth followed.
Her partner’s enthusiasm was open and vibrant. “You are simply dazzling tonight, Lady Mary.”
“And you are very kind, Mr. Bywood.”
Mary loved to dance. With a rising desire to put Ormond out of her mind and enjoy herself, she smiled at the eager young man. She could get through another ball. One last ball. And she could avoid Lord Ormond and his many female admirers.
* * *
Adrian twirled Elizabeth St. Clair about the dance floor, enjoying himself thoroughly. He had not been to a ball in London in some time.
“You are an excellent dancer, Lord Baynes.”
“Why thank you, my dear. I must say I am having a rousing good time.”
Two gentlemen stood at the edge of the dance floor on the far side of the room, and Elizabeth’s next comment was about them, surprising Adrian—but only a little. “Sir, do you know Lord Ormond and the gentleman standing with him?”
Without appearing to look, Adrian glanced in their direction. “Yes, I know them. Ormond is with Griffen Lambeth, his good friend.”
“Can you introduce me?”
“I’d be happy to make the introduction, Miss St. Clair, though I cannot leave you alone with them or the gossips will buzz.”
He did just as he promised. When the music stopped, Adrian casually escorted Elizabeth from the dance floor as if unaware the two men were standing in his path and it appeared they inadvertently arrived together at the spot. Adrian paused to greet the two men and introduced Elizabeth at the same time.
Lambeth smiled at her, obvious interest in his eyes. “I think I know your older sisters Caroline and Charlotte, Miss St. Clair. You look so much like them. Do they not also have your lovely red hair?”
Elizabeth blushed. “Why, thank you, sir. Yes, they do.”
“How are they?”
“Very well. Both are happily married now.”
Lambeth and Ormond exchanged a knowing look. Adrian did not miss it, and realizing the subject of marriage had turned the young men’s interest to concern, he decided an exit was in short order. “Well, gentlemen, we must bid you an enjoyable evening. We’re off to find refreshment.”
The two men wished them an enjoyable repast, and Adrian guided Elizabeth away through a doorway and to an elaborate display of sumptuous hors d’oeuvres covering a long table. Reading the young woman’s mind as she glanced about the room he assured her, “Don’t worry. Mary will find us.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Thank you, Lord Baynes, for the introduction.”
Adrian wondered if it had been wise. Taking a plate, he set about selecting some tasty comestibles and asked, “What did you think of them, Miss St. Clair?”
“They are both most handsome.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose they are. Despite their reputations, they do seem to be much in demand by the ladies.”
“Perhaps because of it, Lord Baynes.”
Adrian smiled and handed her a glass of champagne. Wise words from the young woman. He hoped she was always as wise.
* * *
Hugh watched both the diplomat and the young woman walk away, but Lambeth’s eyes followed only the redhead.
“She is fairer than her sisters, and that’s saying something.”
Hugh chuckled under his breath. “You always were partial to redheads as I recall.”
“Aye, that’s true. They have been my downfall more than once, as you well know. And she is quite exquisite.”
Hugh’s eyes drifted to the far side of the room where Lady Mary was surrounded. Arthur Bywood was there, and other young men anxious for a dance, swains every one. He had no intention of asking her to dance, though. That could be construed as a declaration to the haut ton that the rake was retiring.
Lambeth followed his gaze. “Still looking at the fair Mary Campbell, I see.”
“Perhaps.” In fact, he could not take his eyes off her. The Swan. But Hugh could not allow the young debutante to consume his thoughts, for that could mean something he was not ready for: marriage.
“You’d best take care or she will become an obsession.”
“Hmm…” It just might be that she already was.
* * *
By her fifth dance, Mary was quite tired of the effort required to keep up the small talk required of her. The ballroom had grown overly warm with its multitude of candles and many dancing bodies, and to Mary’s mind it was too loud. She needed some air. Her friend Elizabeth had disappeared some time ago, but before she went looking for her, she thought she might just take a short walk through the cool gardens.
Avoiding the eyes of Arthur Bywood, who had been lured into dancing with Lady Harriet, Mary dodged behind a group of older men in deep discussion. They barely noticed her as she slipped by them to exit the room through the terrace door. Outside, her warm cheeks welcomed the brisk night air.
The stone terrace was lit, and the soft light on the balustrade from the outside lamps allowed her to see she was alone for the moment. She welcomed the times she was alone. As an only child, she had frequently been her only company.
There were gardens out here she remembered from her prior visit, and with confidence she took the stairs that led down to them. On the lawn she inhaled deeply the smell of clean earth, grass and flowers. Gardens. It seemed she was always escaping into them. The thought amused her, and she smiled.
A few quick turns and she found her destination, or rather, more accurately, she smelled it. The fragrance of roses was just what she needed to shake off the memory of that crowded ballroom. She was just bending down to smell a pink blossom when she heard a deep voice behind her.
“The Empress Josephine had a passion for roses, too, you know.”
She started at the familiar voice, stood up from the flower and turned. Lord Ormond loomed before her like a terrible dark angel. Was he taller than she’d remembered? His dark brown hair appeared ebony in the dim light, and tonight it was smoothed back from his chiseled features. The pirate had dressed up for the evening, and he was so ruggedly handsome he made her heart ache.
Before she could say a word, he said, “I wanted to see you, but I didn’t want to announce it by asking you to dance.”
“And what did you want to see me about, my lord?”
He chuckled. “I’ve missed you.”
Mary tried to control her speeding heart. How could she be so glad to see the arrogant man? Being drawn into his seductive lure could mean her demise, and she respected herself more than that, even if she thought society’s strictures often foolish and misguided. He was toying with her. And despite that, she was happy to see him.
But she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. “Surely not, my lord. My foolish female thoughts are likely boring and—”
Ormond chuckled again and stepped closer. “You could never bore me, Lady Mary.”
He moved closer still. She had the urge to back up but held her ground, determined not to show weakness. He was nearly touching her before he stopped. “Come walk with me.”
It felt like a command, not a request. She knew giving in to him was unwise, but at that moment she felt powerless to refuse. “All…right. Perhaps for just a few minutes.”
He took her elbow and guided her deeper into the gardens where tall yew hedges grew. She was thankful the bright moon gave some light to the darkened spaces.
“You are beautiful, Lady Mary.”
A tingle went through her spine. Mary never knew what to say to compliments, knowing men just said those things as a matte
r of courtesy to young women, or as a prelude to seducing them. Either reason made her uncomfortable. But still, the man had called her beautiful, words she could not recall hearing before, and certainly never from this man. She couldn’t fail to recognize that kindness. “Thank you.”
He stopped and turned her toward him. His warm fingers held her arm just above her glove, producing an amazing shiver that sent ripples of sensation down her body. For a moment their eyes locked and a powerful force flowed between them, the same heat that had been there from the first time they touched. His dark eyes held hers as he bent his head.
Mary could hear the quaver in her voice as she asked, “Are you thinking about kissing me again?”
“Yes, I am.” He continued to move toward her.
“Well, don’t—”
His lips claimed hers, cutting off any further words. They were warm, oh so warm. And they moved so sensually. She began to shiver, but she stopped when he traced her bottom lip with his tongue, paralyzed by that intentionally erotic touch.
At last he lifted his mouth from hers and whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for some time.” That sensuous baritone had a hypnotic effect. She melted against him, arms coming up to his chest as he nibbled on her ear.
“I find I can’t stay away from you, Lady Mary.”
“If you continue following me into gardens and kissing me whenever you like,” she breathed, “I fear you will ruin my reputation.”
He leaned back to look at her and smiled with lazy self-assurance. “I promise you that is not my intention, but with you it seems I have little control. I like kissing you.”
Remembering Lady Hearnshaw, Mary was suddenly suspicious. She pulled back abruptly and dusted off her skirts. “Surely you are toying with me, my lord. You seem very smug, like the cat that swallowed the canary. If this has anything to do with my going to Paris, I can assure you that one of your kisses will not change my mind. I am going with my uncle.”
Ormond frowned and stepped back. “I know. And I don’t like it, but I can see that I will not be successful in changing your mind when everyone else seems determined you go. But that was not my intention in kissing you.” The self-assured smile was back. “I simply wanted to.”
She hurriedly changed the subject, happy to be back in control of herself. “How are your ribs?”
He shrugged, clearly put out by her retreat from his affections. “My ribs seem to be fine, no doubt due to your kind ministrations.”
They began to walk. As they did, she found herself taking his arm, an unconscious gesture that brought pleasure nonetheless. “I’m glad. Such a fall can sometimes bring much worse consequences.”
There was a brief silence. “You refer to your father?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “That hunting accident reminded me…” She trailed off, not sure what to say.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
She stole a glance at him and saw genuine concern. “It was a very long time ago. I never really knew him. But I have longed to know him.”
“I have experienced such feelings myself,” he replied. “They can keep you locked in the past—but I don’t want to talk about the past. I want to talk about us.” Taking her elbow, he turned her to face him. “There is more between us than a kiss. You must feel it. Your body tells me you do.”
Embarrassed by his words, she didn’t want to admit how true they were. Especially not when there were other considerations. “I saw you with Lady Hearnshaw tonight. Surely I cannot be a part of that.”
Ormond looked annoyed. “I assure you she is not with me. There is nothing there. Nor is there anything between me and any other woman at present.”
“I see.” Mary pondered his words. Perhaps he was between mistresses. But if he wanted her to be his next, she was not interested. She might be innocent, but she was keenly aware that she could never give her body without her heart wanting to follow. She would be no man’s mistress, particularly this man’s. That path would lead only to heartbreak, for she was coming to see how easily she could give him her heart.
With men like him who found it easy to take their pleasure and move on, how could a woman ever know he was truly hers? Could he ever give himself to just one woman? Elizabeth had been right. Being a rake had its consequences. But for whom? Him? The woman? Both?
They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Mary anxiously looked toward the ballroom. The light from the chandeliers shone through the windows. She needed to leave while she still could.
It was as if Ormond read her thoughts. “Shall I allow you to return by yourself?”
Her eyes darted to the light then to him. “Yes, that would be best.”
She turned to walk away but stopped as he reached out and touched her arm. “It’s not over between us, Lady Mary.”
Her hands were shaking, but she did not look behind her as she hurried down the path to the wide stone steps and back to the ball.
Chapter 10
“Ah, Paris.”
Mary sighed, her hand dangling from the open window of the carriage as she and her uncle rode down the tree-lined street in the enchanting city she loved. The breeze was a soft caress on her face. Spring had arrived, bringing with it blossoms in shades of pink and white.
“Even with all it has endured, Paris is still beautiful,” she remarked. “The buildings have more grace, more artistry in their lines than those in London. Somehow they seem more feminine—don’t you think, Uncle?”
“I agree it is a beautiful city.” Lord Baynes followed her gaze out the window. “The cafés and the music are full of life, but it is also dangerous here.”
He leaned back in his seat and sagely regarded her. “Remember that, Mary. This is the country that rejected an unworthy king to embrace an unworthy emperor, and now the world watches and worries to see what France will embrace next. Violence persists in many districts, so I am asking you to be careful. I am begging you.”
Mary noted the stern look on her uncle’s face, aware of the violence of which he spoke. In part it was due to the backlash of those called royalists, those who would have vengeance for the bloodletting that had characterized the Reign of Terror. The Bourbon supporters had not forgotten the horrible deaths of their family and friends. That anger had resulted in bloody riots in the south of France and even some areas of Paris.
“I will, Uncle,” she told him. But even his stern reminder could not dampen her delight.
She had been in Paris for a week now, and though it had rained for several days, this day dawned clear and the brilliant blue sky stirred her spirits. She hadn’t seen much of her uncle, who had been occupied in meetings during most days, meetings to which she had not been invited, but she’d enjoyed the few evenings she had spent with him at the Tuileries Palace, the seat of the French court and home of the king. This afternoon they were calling on the minister of police, Comte Elie Decazes. Much was happening in Paris since Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo and King Louis XVIII’s return last year. The comte was an integral part of the king’s plan to bring much-needed change to the government.
“Is it true what I have heard, Uncle, that France is still in deep financial straits?”
“The country has suffered much from the war,” he acknowledged. “Our own blockade kept goods from entering the country, which slowed commerce to a crawl. It will be a while before France returns to its former glory.”
“All of Paris is talking about the new Chamber of Deputies the king has created, La Chambre Introuvable.”
“Yes, the Unobtainable Chamber. A most interesting body. Most of its members are the ‘ultra-royalists’ who support the monarchy and hope for the return of the Ancien Régime. Though Louis is a moderate with ideas for reform, even he cannot control them. Their ways can be vicious.”
Mary thought about what he said and all she’d learned since their return to Paris. “They are still talking about what happened to Michel Ney, the one Napoleon called ‘le brave des braves.’ What I heard is rat
her chilling. After we left Paris this December past he was tried for treason and executed. Was that because he was Napoleon’s most famous marshal?”
“He was. But Louis had a personal reason to want him gone. He asked Ney to stop Napoleon’s advance through the south of France during the hundred days when the emperor returned to power from Elba. Instead, Ney deserted the Bourbons and rejoined his old master. He paid the price.
“But it is not just the royalists and the revolutionaries who are causing trouble now,” her uncle continued. “There have been fights between the Protestants and the Catholics, too. The power of the Catholic Church has begun to grow once again. I do not overstate my concern for you. Paris holds many dangers. In that, Lord Ormond was right.”
Though Ormond had never been far from her thoughts, Mary did not wish to discuss him with her uncle. She reminded herself that if Ormond had gotten his way she would not be here at all. Ire at that thought helped buffer her away from him.
“But, Uncle, surely there are reasonable men who have the ear of the king. They will set things right. What about the prime minister, Duc de Richelieu?”
“I confess I admire the man. And there is our own Duke of Wellington who still leads England’s troops here. He has been a good friend for many years, and Louis listens to him. So, yes, there is reason for hope.”
Mary thought for a moment. “Your business here is not just with the French, though, is it? What about the allies’ ministers I have met at the Tuileries?”
“Smart girl.” Her uncle gave her a small smile. “They, too, have a say in what happens in France, and they will be involved in reviewing the king’s plans for changes to his new government. Louis resents their presence, of course, particularly the Prussians. But he tolerates them because they have brought stability to the country.” He paused for a moment, watching her. “I trust your thoughts have not all been about politics. You’ve made some new friends, I hope? Your desire to be of assistance to me is commendable, but I also want you to enjoy yourself.”