The weather, which had been threatening for several days, started to deteriorate that evening. Far past midnight, Ruth could hear music from the ballroom interspersed with gusts of wind and the tossing of branches. She'd gone early to bed, for it had taken some time for her to quiet Thorpe's distress, and her own rioting emotions had left her feeling drained and tired. She had been sure she would fall asleep at once, but the recollection of the boy's repentance haunted her.
"I got you into trouble in St. James's Park, Aunty," he had sobbed. "Now I did it again! I'm… I'm a wicked boy, like that lady said."
Seething, Ruth had assured him she loved him dearly, and knew very well he hadn't intended to upset Lady de Brette. " 'Tis very true you should not have been playing football so near to the guests," she'd said gently. "But you made your apologies, just as you should."
Grace had said apprehensively that they would be turned off for sure now, but when Ruth had returned to work on the fresco, only the Reverend Mr. Aymer had come to see her, and he had appeared more disturbed by Lady Nadia's behaviour than by "Jacob's" prank. "I cannot feel that you will be held to blame, ma'am," he'd said. "For despite his partiality for the lady, Sir Brian is a fair-minded man and such a display of temper was distasteful in the extreme."
A violent gust howled around the house, sending the bedcurtains flying and rattling the open casement. Ruth got up and crossed to kneel in the window-seat. Light blazed through the tossing branches from the windows of the ballroom. He would be in there. Dancing, no doubt, with his beautiful bride-to-be… Holding her close through some measures of the dance… Smiling down at her with those magnificent darkly lashed grey eyes. And doomed to marry a creature who was as selfish and spiteful as she was lovely. Ruth sighed miserably.
Her suppositions were incorrect, however, for at that instant the arms holding Lady Nadia were not those of Gordon Chandler. The eyes that smiled down at her were midnight blue with a trace of the Orient in their shape. Nor were they in the ballroom, but stood instead in a secluded ante room, locked in each others' arms, the music and laughter muted by the most improperly closed door.
My lady's gasped out and insincere protests that August was "really very naughty" were cut off as his lips once more closed hard over her own. Her response was no less passionate, her soft body pressing against him eagerly.
It was the flicker of the candles that alerted Falcon, so that he looked up from his willing captive.
"Oh, dear me," he murmured with a mocking and unrepentant grin. "And does mine host mean faire des embarras?"
With a muffled squeak of shock, Lady Nadia whipped around.
Chandler stood watching from the open doorway. "Make a fuss?" he said coldly. "Not at the moment. Be so good as to leave us."
Falcon looked from Chandler's grim face, to the beauty's flushed one. "I forced myself upon the lady," he lied.
Chandler said, "Force yourself to close the door behind you."
With a sigh, Falcon bowed to Lady Nadia. "He has the right, m'dear, but I shall wait within call. An he strikes you, scream, and I will charge to your rescue."
Ravishingly lovely in a ball gown of silvery green set with spangles that glittered in the light of the candles, Nadia watched Chandler with dilating eyes.
The door clicked shut "You must be aware, madam," said Chandler, still in that voice of ice, "that for a single lady to be alone in a closed room with a gentleman who is not her betrothed is conduct past forgiving."
Her heart was thundering, for she knew that what he said was perfectly true, and that such an indiscretion would never be countenanced by the ton. She could have screamed with frustration. How could she have been so stupid as to risk all at this stage of the game? That accursed Falcon with his bewitching eyes and incredible looks! He had lured her on. 'Twas his fault—not hers!
Trying for nonchalance she said airily, "La, sir, what a piece of work you make of it. A harmless flirtation merely."
"I do not judge that passionate embrace to have been 'a harmless flirtation.' Rather, I am forced to assume either that your morals are sadly at fault, or that you have mistaken your heart."
"He lured me here!" Afraid that she might have ruined herself, her voice took on the shrillness that had been all too evident in the afternoon. "Falcon is an accomplished roue and—"
"And you have scarce been able to keep your eyes from him since first you came. I am not the only person to have remarked it. No doubt you think me sadly old-fashioned. Perhaps I am. But I have no least desire to marry a lady who is in love with another man."
Her eyes opened very wide. Incredulous, she said, "I? In love with the Mandarin?" She gave a trill of mirth. "You cannot be serious! He is a half-breed!"
"Yet, considering him beneath your touch, you still went to a private room and allowed him to make love to you? Pretty behaviour, 'pon my word!"
She became very red in the face, and, enraged by his hauteur as much as by her own folly, she hissed, "If you think to call off our betrothal, Chandler, I warn you—"
"No, ma'am. I will allow you to be the one to draw back."
"Well, I will not! Our betrothal has been published and I have every intention to become your wife. Besides, Sir Brian would not let you do so ungentlemanly a thing as to draw back!"
"You should have been more discreet, Nadia. Several people saw you come in here with Falcon. Including my father."
Speechless, she glared at him.
He said in a milder tone, "Come now, never look so dismayed. If truth be told you have no love for me, I doubt you even like me. And very obviously we share few interests. Our marriage could only be a disaster. You have many admirers who will be eager to step into my shoes." He put out his hand. "Let us part friends, for old times' sake."
Her head had lowered. Now, ignoring his hand, she looked up at him, her eyes glittering, her face white and twisted with fury. "You are perfectly right," she said in a low half-whisper that shook with wrath. "I have no love for you. I do love though. Oh, not the Mandarin. Another gentleman—who chances to have a wife." She saw disgust come into his eyes, and laughed scornfully. "Never pretend to be shocked. You know perfectly well that most of today's marriages—between people of our class at least—are for convenience only! We live in a modern age, and people are no longer bound by such fusty things as betrothals and wedding bands."
"Then how fortunate it is that we have come to a parting of the ways. Because, you see, I shall expect my wife to be bound by just such—er, 'fusty things.' " The chill determination in his face told her she could not change his mind, and in her fury she raged, "La, what a high flight, were it genuine! But 'tis a lie! The truth of the matter is that my brother was right. You are enamoured of that dowdy slut of a widow!" She ran back as a deadly look narrowed his eyes. His hands clenched, but then he turned to the door. "Well, you'll not get her, I promise you that!" she shrilled. "I will be chatelaine of Lac Brillant! And you and your doxy—"
Chandler closed the door and walked down the hall more shaken than he would have cared to admit.
Falcon rose from a chair near the ballroom and waited for him to come up. "Well?" he drawled. "Pistols at dawn? You'll have to wait till I've fought Morris, I'm afraid. But that should be soon enough."
Chandler looked at him steadily. "The lady said you lured her."
"Did she, though. Hmmn. Let me see…" Falcon rubbed his quizzing glass along the bridge of his nose. "Did I follow the Code by which you live, at this point I would gallantly shield her reputation by replying that she spoke truly. I, however, am the ultimate cad. I do not give a fig for your Code, and will tell you with despicable candour that it—er, really didn't take much luring." He added hopefully, "Are you shattered?"
Chandler's slow smile dawned. "Do you know what I think?"
"Morris is the only man whose mind I can read. And that is only because 'tis empty."
"I think you did it deliberately."
Falcon looked bored. "Why should I? To be of assistance, perhaps? I assist no one—
especially in so devious a way. My nature is too simple and uncomplicated for that."
With a shout of laughter, Chandler said, "Egad! What a rasper!"
Falcon's glance shifted. "Speaking of which, your—er. almost brother-in-law just scuttled to support his sister How are you with pistols?"
"Not as good as Quentin, but not contemptible, I think. Why? Do you think his lordship may call me out?"
"Might. I'd second you, but I cannot endure the sound of gunfire." Falcon shivered realistically. "Quite oversets my poor nerves."
Grinning broadly, Chandler walked past, feeling that the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and that his life began tonight. He knew he should go back to the ballroom, but he was overwhelmed by the need to share his happiness. He must be near her, at least. His step light, his heart lighter, he slipped out by the dining room French doors and hurried into the blustery night.
He came to the front of the cottage while Ruth was still kneeling in the window-seat. She was startled when she saw someone approaching the low wall that edged the cottage lawn. For a scared moment she thought it was the whistling man again, but then she recognized the athletic stride, the proud set of the head, and joy possessed her. Snatching up her dressing gown and thrusting her feet into her satin slippers, she ran swift and silently down the stairs.
The moment she opened the front door the wind snatched at her. Perhaps it was the wildness of the night that blew away all restraint. Perhaps her thoughts had been so much with him that nothing could have stayed her. She ran to him, the wind blowing her hair until it eluded the broad riband that tied it back, and streamed out behind her.
Chandler halted, and held out his arms, and she flew into them, as simply, as naturally, as though their vows had been exchanged, their troth long since plighted. He hugged her to him in a bliss too deep for words, and knew with his eyes closed, and his cheek against her silken hair that this was the love he had hungered for all his days; this was the perfect one, the beloved and only woman for him.
Clinging to him, joying in his strength and the sure knowledge that he returned her love, Ruth forgot that he was betrothed, and that she still had not told him the entire truth about herself. Conscious only that she had given him her heart, she lifted her face.
And kissing her, Chandler discovered that his was not a cold nature after all; that passion had waited only for the right lady, and that Ruth's yielding body and soft responsive mouth seemed to ignite his very soul.
A gust staggered them, awaking them from that ecstatic embrace. Breathless, he said, "I must get you out of this wind." He led her around to the side of the house, where they were somewhat sheltered. And with his arm still tight around her, he ran one finger around her lips and said huskily, "You must fancy me a proper rogue."
"Whereas I," she murmured, gazing lovingly up at him, "seem to make a habit of running to you in my nightrail, I wonder what you must think of me!"
He kissed the end of her nose, "I wish that I had the right to tell you exactly what I think of you."
Those words poured the cold light of reality upon Ruth's joy, and, shivering, she shrank close against him. Straightening then, she made a belated attempt to be sensible, "Where were you going when I—so shamefully flung myself at you?"
He smiled tenderly. "Do you ask if I came this way deliberately? The answer is that I often do so. I wonder you have not seen me gazing up at your window like any moonstruck halfling."
Her hand flew up to cradle his cheek and so, of course, he captured it, and kissed the soft palm until she began to tremble again and pulled it free.
With an effort, he let her slip from his arm. "I came to tell you that you are not to be worried," he said, more or less truthfully. "My father attaches no blame to you, my dear."
She drew a steadying breath. "I am not to be sent packing, then?"
"God forbid! I could not bear it!"
"Gordon," she said faintly, "you should not say such things."
He concentrated upon the soft silken rope of fair hair that he wrapped around his hand. "I know. Forgive. I have not the right. But—" And suddenly very nervous, he stammered, "But—Ruth if—if I were free, might you have… ? I mean— Could you— Do you think you might, under such circumstances, perhaps, have the least interest in a—a rather dull dog of a fellow, who cares more for the country than for Town, and is not a bit the bold and dashing type you ladies so admire?"
With a tender smile she unwound her hair from his hand, and holding that strong hand between both her own, she said softly, "I rather doubt it, sir, for I have not the acquaintance of such a person. But—under those circumstances, if a far from dull gentleman, who loves the country as do I, and is very bold and beyond words dashing—if such a man were to ask me that question—"
She was not allowed to finish her sentence, and when he at last released her, she was so weak and trembling that she fled into the house, leaving him standing there in the windswept darkness dazed with delight.
"I warned you to control that nasty temper of yours," said Lord Vincent angrily. "A fine spectacle you made of yourself, and now there will be a scandal, and I despise scandals! Why the deuce do you want Chandler anyway? He's a damned sight too high in the instep for my liking. And certainly, you've an adequate fortune of your own."
Rounding on him, Lady Nadia raged, "I don't want an adequate fortune, you fool! I want a great fortune! And I don't want him, I want Lac Brillant! And I mean to have it! 'Tis one of the most beautiful estates in all England, and situated so near to Dover 'twould draw all our friends when they come and go from Paris or Rome. The parties we could have here when the Season is over and London a dead bore! I would become the most envied hostess in the land. And with his fortune and my own, I could afford to connect the three blocks and make a veritable palace here! Do you think I've put up with Chandler's off-hand ways and the old man's puritanical notions all this time only to fail now?"
He grunted and said with a marked lack of sympathy, " 'Tis a pity you did not think of all that before you slithered back here with Falcon. You both draw the eye and deuce take it, you drew many tonight! Yes, I know—you wanted him, and you think that always you can take whatever you want, do whatever you want, and that you can bend any man to your will because you're beautiful. Well, you'll not bend Gordon Chandler! You've lost him, my girl!"
"He is an arrogant, overbearing—yokel!" She snatched up a vase and would have hurled it at the door had de Brette not wrested it from her. Through her teeth she hissed, "His stupid head is full of the most antiquated notions imaginable! Were you a loyal brother you would be after him with a pistol in your hand!" His lordship's only response being a derisive snort, she began to pace up and down, wringing her hands. "I wish you might have heard how he insulted me! Much love he has for me, to treat me in so abominable a way!"
"You brought it on yourself, dear heart. Besides, did I not say he was smitten with the Allington woman?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Yes. I accused him of it, and I believe you are right. My God! Who would dream the fool would lust after that cheap, worthless baggage? Is she the Toast of London? Has she received dozens of offers from the pick of the ton? She is a nothing!"
"I disagree," said de Brette with a slow smile. "Mrs. Allington has a luscious shape, and a graceful way with her. And did she wear decent gowns and dress her hair in a less severe style, she could be a beauty."
Incredulous, she said, "You must be addled! She is a dowd! A cheap slut! Yet did you mark how she stood there in the garden this afternoon? Holding that revolting brat, and looking down her nose at me for all the world as if she was of the Quality! The impudence of the creature! I declare she put me in mind of…" Her words trailed off. Her eyes became very round and her lower lip sagged. For a long moment she stood there, gazing into space so that her brother became alarmed and asked if she was ill.
Ignoring his question, Lady Nadia half whispered. "It cannot be! Surely she was not so destitute as to… She change
d her appearance, of course, and how should I dream—" With a sudden squeal of excitement she spun around, clapping her hands. "It is! It is! Oh, how rich! How delicious!" Her eyes brilliant with laughter she said, "Vincent, you will not believe I could have been so blind! It must be properly staged of course. And the question is—" she paused, resting one pink fingertip on her pouting lips "—which cast of characters would be most effective?'
At a loss, de Brette asked, "What on earth has inspired such transports? What do you mean to do, wicked jade?" Her laugh trilled out. "Sing, my dearest. And when I have properly captivated them into forgiving my— indiscretions, why then… oh, how I shall teach Mr. High and Mighty Chandler to rue the day he called me a fishwife!"
Chapter 13
The ballroom was quiet when Chandler slipped back into West House. The guests stood in groups about the floor or were seated at the sides, whispering together and watching Lady Nadia, who was conferring with the musicians. Chandler started to back away, but a deeper hush fell, the music started, and he was bound by the dictates of good manners to remain. While the introduction was played Nadia faced them all, a faint sad smile on her ruddy full-lipped mouth. She had chosen Dido's beautiful song of farewell from Purcell's Dido and Aeneas, and her rich soprano voice rippled out pure and true and thrilling in its poignancy.
Chandler watched her. She looked almost regal with the candlelight gleaming on her soft curls and drawing sparkles from the spangles scattered about the great skirts of her ball gown. Truly an exquisite beauty. And he marvelled that she could look so angelic, yet be so selfish; that the heartbreak sung with such tender feeling that it sent shivers down his spine could be rendered by one who seemed to have no heart at all. When she finished there was a breathless silence, then the enthralled crowd burst into thunderous applause.
Many in the audience had been moved to tears, and Sir Brian's eyes were suspiciously bright when he came up to grip his son's arm and say huskily, "Isn't she magnificent?
Rather naughty, I grant you. But—by God, she can sing! What a great gift, eh, my boy?"
Ask Me No Questions Page 24