This day, Eileen welcomed a letter from Lady Diane delivered by Michael Jasper. Though no artist, the ex-soldier had somehow become part of the tribe that wandered to and fro, too poor to afford London but too well-bred to settle elsewhere. Drake found Michael useful as a temporary estate manager now that his cousin Edmund had found his niche in London politics.
Diane took advantage of Michael’s gentle generosity with impunity. Eileen laughed at the contents of a note and gave it to Michael to read.
The ex-soldier scanned the contents with a chortle and returned it to her. Theodore, the musician, grabbed the missive from Eileen’s hands, and the letter made the rounds of the room’s occupants.
“It seems Lady Diane does not favor a holiday with her prospective in-laws. Will you take up her suggestion, Apple Princess?” Theodore asked, using Drake’s name for her.
“A ball! You must have a ball and invite us all!” The poet, James, blushed at his inadvertent rhyme.
Sir John stalked into the room and appropriated the letter.
Eileen clasped her hands in front of her paint-spattered smock while her uncle read Diane’s plea for escape. Drake’s crippled sister so seldom left Sherburne that it was a matter of intense pride for anyone to have her request a visit. That she would rather stay at Summer Hall for the holidays than visit Lady Pamela at Westley spoke volumes of that relationship. Sir John shook his head in dismay.
“You want to start another family feud in that contrary family? And you think such a confrontational visit should be celebrated by a ball when Lady Diane cannot even walk?”
Eileen nodded eagerly, then gestured to Theodore for explanations.
The slender musician shoved back a shock of wiry, blonde hair. “Lady Diane loves music, sir. The guests do not matter so much as the musicians.” With an awkward shrug, he added, “Her new in-laws detest dancing. There is not a musical instrument in the entire manor.”
“Very well, there is no reason Lady Diane should lie in the bed her brother has made,” Sir John said. “Let’s send the lady our invitation. Perhaps your aunt can help you with a guest list for the festivities. We might as well make an occasion of it.”
With a shrewd look to Theodore, he added, “And I expect you can find us the musicians Lady Diane requires. Make yourself useful.”
Garbed in the latest Paris fashion, a rich satin Watteau with pleats that draped in a train behind her, Eileen ornamented the great hall in much the same manner as the garlands of holly and pine. In the candlelight of the massive chandeliers she shimmered in silver and emerald, accented by a parure of emeralds. Only the rebelliously unpowdered auburn hair set her apart from the other aristocratic lady guests.
Sir John smiled his pleasure as heads turned to follow his niece drifting through the crowded hall on the arm of Michael Jasper. The ex-soldier had accompanied Lady Diane on her arrival several days ago and had stayed at everyone’s insistence, since he had no other family to visit. Eileen appeared comfortable in his company and had shown no signs of recalcitrance as the various guests were introduced to her. So far, she had danced only with her artist friends, but Sir John held out hope that would change. The evening was young yet.
Eileen spread her skirts on the seat beside Diane’s wheeled chair and leaned over to listen to her friend’s whispered comment on one of the other guests. She laughed at the sight pointed out, a powdered wig slipping from the bald pate of one of Eileen’s suitors. Diane had willingly joined in Eileen’s war against addlepated suitors.
When the musicians struck up a minuet, Eileen shook her head in refusal of an offer from a slender young man. The young lord had been ardent in his attentions throughout the evening. Diane had declared him thoroughly smitten, which made Eileen avoid him all the more. Disappointed by her refusal, he glanced at the chairs next to them, but Eileen’s friends already occupied them. Theodore and James were engaged in an energetic discussion on the abilities of Hogarth as a true artist. To Eileen’s satisfaction, the lordling wandered off.
Not until she glanced up to the stairs and recognized a late arrival did she regret turning the young man away. Garbed in a dusty-blue coat that nearly matched the shade of his companion’s panniered skirts, his golden locks powdered and tied in a black ribbon, Drake seemed to draw all eyes. The well-endowed lady on his arm, her hair powdered, stacked, and adorned with intricate chains of gold, held herself with regal erectness, as if disdaining to descend to the level of the unsophisticated company below.
Eileen’s nails bit into her palms at this first sight of Lady Pamela. Unprepared for the wild surge of jealousy threatening her composure, she could only study her enemy. The woman had everything she did not: wealth, title, aristocratic lineage, and the upbringing that allowed her to move with ease through Drake’s circle of aristocratic friends. That she had also stunning good looks and a voluptuous figure did nothing to allay Eileen’s dismay. Why should Drake even look twice at her when he had all that to enjoy?
Unaccustomed to these feelings of inadequacy and the sickening knot of jealousy in her stomach, Eileen turned with mute appeal to the stalwart soldier behind her. Michael Jasper glanced at her upheld hand in surprise.
But with a bow, he gallantly enveloped her hand in his large one and assisted her from her seat. “I’m not graceful, you know,” he muttered.
Diane watched in surprise as her friend shook her head to indicate she did not care that her escort was no dancer. Michael never danced if he could avoid it, and the minuet particularly distressed him. For all that mattered, Eileen detested it, too. They looked as if they were about to be executed as they approached the dance floor.
Diane swept the antiquated hall for the source of her friend’s unusual behavior. Once she found him, she could scarcely overlook her elegant brother’s descent of the staircase with his fiancée on his arm. The look on Drake’s face enhanced Diane’s curiosity. Instead of his usual affable expression, a frown puckered his brow, and he appeared to be chewing the inside of his cheek with suppressed anger. She could not imagine the empty-headed Lady Pamela saying anything to produce more than boredom in Drake’s agreeable features. What in heaven’s name had set him off?
Seeing no sign of her cousins—the usual cause of Drake’s distress—Diane wrinkled her brow and looked to Drake’s friends. Apparently oblivious to Drake’s arrival, Theodore and James chattered at her side about the quality of the musicians and the difficulty of the violin piece being played.
Something was not right, but she could not put her finger on it. Trapped as she was in this chair, she had all the time in the world to think on it.
Drake greeted Sir John and Lady Summerville and introduced his fiancée. He forced himself to focus on his host and hostess rather than watching the dance floor where Eileen danced with Michael Jasper. She had every right to dance with anyone she chose; he only wished it would be anyone but the stalwart soldier. If he saw anything of that relationship developing, he must nip it in the making.
Pamela fussed and fumed as they joined the throng and discovered no one to her liking among the guests. “Whatever were you about to accept this invitation, my dear? There is no one here but provincials, and I have worn my best gown for naught. I could have worn muslin and no one would have noticed. Look at that over there!” she exclaimed, pointing to the tall soldier out of step with his unwigged companion. “Why, she does not even powder her hair! Have you ever seen such a sight! Parisian gowns on a country miss, I’ll be bound. I cannot understand your insistence that we. . .”
As the monologue carried on, Drake tuned her out and watched where she had pointed. He rather enjoyed the glitter of those auburn tresses beneath the candlelight, looking like a bright bow on Christmas wrapping. He wondered how they might look with the pins out and the wrapping off, and he cursed his wicked imagination. Duty required that he attend the lady chosen for him, the lady whose virginity he had taken at an early age, knowing they were betrothed to each other since their cradles. The lady who stood at his side
now, venting her petulance like a spoiled child. Marry her he must, but damn, he wished she would at least be silent when he tried to make love to her.
With a pang of longing, Drake turned away from that proudly-held head of copper hair. There was one who knew the value of silence, even in the discovery of her voice. Squelching that thought, he searched for his sister.
Diane offered a dazzling smile at Drake’s greeting. “Why, beloved brother, what brings you here this evening? Surely your concern for me cannot draw you from the delights of Westley Manor?”
Drake scowled but his sister continued blithely on, “And Pamela, my dear, how thoughtful of you to come out in the midst of winter to visit among the provincials. It is a pity that cousin Edmund could not be here tonight. I am certain the two of you would spread joy and cheer among the lesser folks in this holiday season. Had he known you would be here, he would most certainly have accepted his invitation, even though it pull him from the chains of Parliament in these perilous times.”
Drake would gladly smack her, but Pamela apparently accepted this unusually effusive welcome from Drake’s sister.
“Edmund is a most courageous man, my father says. To serve the king at times like these. . .” Pamela hesitated, apparently attempting to remember just exactly what he had said.
Drake ignored this witless exchange. “You have been up to some mischief, it is evident, little sister. If you cannot keep a civil tongue in your head, I shall be forced to make inquiries.” He lifted an eyebrow to Theodore, who listened with unabashed interest. “Well, Teddy, what has she and the elusive princess been about that she fairly wiggles with excitement?”
Pamela’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of a princess, and she glanced up at the dancers.
“I thought, p’raps, you might provide the answer, Neville,” Theo retorted. “They’ve been the souls of discretion all evening.”
“Have they now?” Drake turned a sarcastic glance to his beaming sister, but knowing she would speak nothing but nonsense in front of Pamela, he did not pry further. With decision, he glanced about the room for an acquaintance who would be socially acceptable to his fiancée. Finding the elderly lord with the slightly askew wig, he excused himself and Pamela and made his way back into the throng.
Having handed off his fiancée to a socially acceptable partner, Drake closed his hands over Eileen’s bare shoulders as the dance ended. He made a pretense at breaking off a loose thread from the froth of lace spilling from her bodice. She gasped in surprise and her escort regarded him suspiciously.
With inexcusable possessiveness, Drake ran his hand down Eileen’s bare arm before he retreated to a polite distance and formal bow. “My lady, I convey my gratitude for your graciousness toward my sister. She seems in high spirits this evening.”
Quivering with anger at his disrespect, Eileen could not respond without giving herself away.
Annoyed that she continued the charade, Drake made a half turn and gazed quizzically at his large friend. “Ahhh, Jasper, I have never seen you on the dance floor before. Could it be our princess has turned your head with dreams of sugarplums?”
Eileen’s gasp of outrage did not distract Drake from his study of the soldier’s dogged expression. Michael Jasper had an extremely well developed sense of honor, one cause for his departure from His Majesty’s service. The Duke of Cumberland’s cruelty did not sit well with the gentle giant, and he had retired his colors rather than protest the orders of his superiors. Drake had applauded his decision at the time, but now he wished his friend in hell.
“I don’t believe I need give you explanations, Neville.” With a taut smile Michael offered Eileen his arm. “Miss de Lacy?”
Eileen accepted Michael’s arm with a sniff at Drake’s poor behavior, but as she encircled her escort’s velvet-coated arm, she froze at a sight behind them.
Drake and Michael turned immediately to follow her gaze. Michael merely waited for explanations. Drake cursed under his breath. His hand sought Eileen’s, and her fingers curled tensely in his grasp. He glanced down at her pale, heart-shaped face, and his heart constricted. Wide gray eyes had become a turbulent storm, and he could nearly feel the violent winds of her emotions. Because she was silent, many thought she was content, but Drake knew better. Beneath that daintiness breathed a creature of unleashed passions. The suddenness of her violence—or her love—could be breathtaking. It would not do to have those emotions unharnessed now.
On the stairs, next to Drake’s cousin Edmund, stood Eileen’s Irish uncle, Lord de Lacy.
Chapter 9
December, 1745
“Jasper, warn Diane that the wicked witch of the enchanted forest has arrived. Tell her to call out the leprechaun army.” Drake waved away Michael’s perplexed expression. “She’ll understand. Call her maid and have her ready to be wheeled out if necessary.”
Expecting the other man to follow his enigmatic orders, Drake dragged Eileen into the center of the dancers. The country dance involved much leaping about and changing of partners and giggling, but Drake kept his eye on Eileen’s pale face as she sailed by on the arm of her partner. He remained at her elbow when the dance came to a spirited end. He would prefer to talk with her before the confrontation, but he could see there would be no escaping. Sir John had sent a footman weaving through the crowd toward them.
She took Drake’s arm with a sweetly blank expression that made him uneasy until he remembered the tales her suitors had carried back to him. Here was the empty-headed doll they had complained of, and Drake hid a wry grin at her charade. Far from being empty, this doll was a loaded powder keg. The fireworks should be admirable when they went off.
The footman delivered his message requesting her presence. Refusing to leave her alone, Drake held her arm as she trailed across the floor in the servant’s his wake.
To Drake’s relief, the leprechaun army turned out in full force. Their various friends fell in with them, seemingly without purpose. Animated discussions over their delight with the evening, the musicians, the dancing, and the world in general provided a shield between the Apple Princess and her enemy. Eileen’s copper hair bobbed as she turned in delight from one to the other of this honor guard, admiring their tales, pointing out the sparkle of one lady’s earrings, laughing at one of Jamie’s silly rhymes, and totally ignoring the impassive figure waiting on the stairway.
Drake surreptitiously studied the man he had only seen at a distance. Lord de Lacy towered well over six feet in height, and the expensive cut of his coat revealed broad shoulders and a powerful chest. Powder hid the blue-black of his thick hair, but the ebony shadow along his closely shaved cheeks gave evidence of his natural coloring. A scar along the line of his jaw seemed to tighten as he waited on his laughing niece, but otherwise his craggy face remained impassive. A formidable opponent indeed, and the smug expression of the man beside him revealed Edmund’s involvement in this meeting.
Wondering why or how in hell his cousin had come in contact with the Irish nobleman, Drake remained cool as the crowd halted near Sir John and his guests. Drake flicked a gesture of greeting to his cousin and made a polite bow to his host while Eileen continued to cling to his arm. From the brilliant smile on her face, none would know that her hand trembled on his arm.
“There, sir, do you see how like she is to her mother? Even down to the court of admirers trailing after her?” Sir John chuckled as he took his niece’s hand and lifted her up a step. “Child, this is your other uncle, Lord de Lacy.”
Eileen heard the concern in his voice, but she revealed none of her own. Feigning a bright, birdlike interest she swiveled her gaze to the overpowering stranger, smiled blankly, and made a pretty curtsy. Then, with complete lack of interest, she turned a questioning gaze back to Sir John.
“Come, child. Surely you must remember me? I used to dandle you on my knee. We had quite exciting romps, if I remember correctly.” Dark, unfathomable eyes watched as she returned her blank gaze to him.
Sir John explain
ed uneasily, “She don’t talk, de Lacy, as I’ve told you. We’ve no notion of what happened, but she seems to have no memory of any of us.”
Sir John didn’t usually lie, but Eileen knew that he knew she had recognized her mother. She was grateful he did not mention her existence.
Teddy and Jamie maneuvered Edmund away while their companions giggled and waited expectantly. The Irish lord gave polite nods as Sir John made introductions, but his hard gaze seemed to focus on Drake.
“Marquess of Sherburne? I knew your father. I believe your cousin Edmund mentioned you are soon to be married?”
A rather subtle reminder that he had no right to offer Eileen his protection.
“My fiancée is somewhere hereabouts,” Drake replied with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “She’ll be happy to meet you. Quite kind of Edmund to realize the connection between you and Miss de Lacy. Didn’t know he knew her that well.”
Eileen watched her uncle’s jaw twitch, but he revealed nothing.
“Actually, Sir John had notified me that he had found our niece,” de Lacy said with a bored drawl. “Edmund merely acted as my guide. We met only recently in the house of mutual acquaintances.”
Feigning boredom, Eileen drifted away in the company of her giggling companions. Noting Michael had returned to stand guard, Drake relaxed. That meant Diane was safely out of the way, and he had only Eileen to contend with. And Pamela, but Pamela seldom needed his attention. He would be glad to see the last guest gone. He needed to squeeze the story of her uncle out of the little brat before de Lacy frightened her anymore.
After another few minutes, Drake maneuvered himself from Sir John’s company and scanned the ballroom. He had acted instinctively to protect Diane from trouble, but he regretted his hastiness. De Lacy was not the type to cause a public scene, but Eileen was another matter entirely. Drake caught a glimpse of several of her companions disappearing behind one of the arras leading into the old keep. That way led to the turret and Eileen’s studio.
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