Cast in Ruin

by Laura Landon

  “She has that effect on people,” Pauline added. “She thinks she’s better than everyone else. I’d love to see her brought down. It would serve her right.”

  “Be patient,” Julia answered. “You’ll get your wish when you and I make excellent matches, and miss high-and-mighty remains a crotchety old spinster. I can’t imagine anyone in Society ever wanting her for a wife.”

  “There’s nothing I’ll enjoy more,” Pauline said. “Maybe then she’ll learn that men don’t appreciate a female who thinks she’s superior to them, and lets them know it.”

  “Fortunately for us, she hasn’t figured that out,” Julia added. “But for now, I need to force myself to at least check on her or I’ll never hear the end of it from Mother. Where do you suppose she is?”

  “Don’t bother looking for her on the dance floor. She won’t be there. Let’s check along the wall over where the dowagers and other wallflowers sit. That’s where she probably is.”

  “Help me look,” Julia said. “At least I’ll be able to tell Mother I tried to find her to make sure she was having a good time.”

  Rachael waited until she was sure Julia and Pauline were gone, then she drained the rest of the champagne in her glass. She stepped out from behind the potted palm just enough to search for a footman with a tray of glasses. When she saw one of the liveried footmen, she lifted two glasses from his tray.

  She’d had more to drink tonight than she’d ever consumed before in her life, and she was sure she was close to getting drunk. But that was exactly what she intended to do.

  She took her two glasses and quickly found another secluded alcove where she could hide. She emptied the two glasses, then stepped into the open long enough to find another footman and get two more. After her third or fourth trip into the open, her vision failed to focus, and pools of water filled her eyes. She couldn’t keep the river of tears from spilling over her lashes and streaming down her cheeks.

  She’d always known she wasn’t one of the females the men of Society sought out, but knowing it, and hearing it proclaimed with such vile bitterness were entirely different matters altogether. She pushed herself up from the bench where she’d been sitting and swayed to her feet.

  She wanted to get away from here. If she never saw Julia Bentley or Pauline Somersby again it would be too soon.

  She swiped at the tears that spilled from her eyes and streamed down her cheeks behind her mask. She made her way out of the ballroom without looking back. When she reached the open, she staggered down the hallway. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, but knew she had to go up one more flight of stairs to reach her room.

  She climbed the nearest stairs, then stumbled down the hallway in the direction of her room. But her room wasn’t where she thought it should be. She turned another corner, then stumbled down another hall. She careened into the walls and bumped into a small table standing in the hall, and knocked over a bouquet of flowers.

  She wasn’t sure where she was, but surely she’d run into someone soon who could direct her to her room. She stumbled, but righted herself, then raced around the corner…and ran into a solid wall of masculine chest.

  “Whoa,” a deep, rich voice drawled as strong arms wrapped around her. “Who are you running away from?”

  Rachael tipped back her head to look at the owner of the voice. She lost her balance and staggered back several steps. Thankfully, his arms reached out to catch her.

  “You’re a…fox,” she slurred as she waggled a finger at his mask.

  “And you are foxed, my little dove. But that’s all right because so am I.”

  He smiled and his mouth opened to show two rows of brilliant white teeth. Stunning creases deepened on either side of his mouth, and two exquisite dimples indented his cheeks. Every part of her insides warmed as if someone had ignited a fire deep in her stomach.

  “I’m not foxed,” she adamantly denied, then stopped when he touched a finger to her lips to stop her lie.

  “Well, maybe a little,” she slurred even though she’d tried to speak clearly. “But I’ve a right to be.”

  Rachael was mortified when a tear seeped beneath her mask and ran to her chin. She swiped it away quickly, but not fast enough for the wetness to escape his notice.

  “Someone made you cry, my little dove,” he said. “That wasn’t sporting of them in the least.”

  She knew he was trying to comfort her, but his words seemed to have the opposite effect. Another tear escaped from behind her mask, and he pulled her against him as if he knew she needed someone to hold her.

  Rachael wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed herself close to him. She stayed there for several long seconds, then she lifted her chin and looked at him. A churning whirlpool swirled inside her causing a myriad of dizzying emotions to take hold of her.

  She focused on his midnight blue eyes and her heart swelled inside her breast. He stared back at her with captivating intensity and she knew what it felt like to fall in love.

  As if he read her mind, his gaze shifted to her lips.

  A shuddering sigh escaped her and she ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips.

  “Ah, hell,” he said on a moan, then brought his mouth down over hers.

  Rachael had never been kissed before. After hearing Julia and Pauline discuss how determined the gentlemen attending the house party were to avoid her, she doubted she’d ever be kissed. But here she was, standing in a secluded hallway being kissed by a stranger who obviously knew a great deal about kissing, and being kissed. She was sure that what he was doing to her was indecent, but she wasn’t about to ask him to stop. If this were going to be her only kiss, she was going to take full advantage of the experience.

  His lips pressed against hers, then he tilted his head and his mouth seemed to fit overs hers more perfectly. He lifted his head a fraction from hers and she wrapped her arm around his neck to secure her hold on him. She refused to let there be just one kiss between them. She refused to have only one fabulous kiss to remember for the rest of her life.

  She pressed her lips to his again and he shocked her by opening his mouth over hers.

  “Open for me,” he whispered, and she did. She’d do anything he asked, and do it gladly.

  She opened her mouth and his kisses turned more intense. His tongue touched her lips and a feral moan escaped from her throat. Another moan followed when his tongue entered her mouth. Her emotions soared wildly out of control the moment his tongue touched hers.

  At first, the press of his lips on hers was an uncertain connection. Then his efforts intensified and the encounter became more desperate. Their tongues stroked, then parried, then battled for control.

  His tongue confronted, then assaulted, then fought for dominance. She was consumed by one jolt of unbridled passion after another, and nothing on earth could force her to break this connection.

  She met his demands with a ferocity she didn’t know she possessed. Her determination almost frightened her. And yet, she refused to let this experience escape without knowing everything there was to know about the experiences he could show her.

  Besides, how much risk could there be in kissing him? They both wore masks. He would never know who she was. And she would never know him.

  He kissed her again, then lifted his mouth from hers.

  “We have to stop,” he whispered with a hoarse and ragged voice.

  “No,” she moaned and she kissed him again. Then again.

  “If we don’t stop soon,” he said kissing her again, “it will be too late.”

  “It’s already too late,” she whispered, then she answered his kisses with greater desperation.

  “Are you sure?” he said, moving his mouth from her lips to her neck, then lower still.

  Rachael tilted her head to the side to give him better access. “Yes,” she gasped. “Oh, yes.”

  Somehow they found an empty room. The room was dark, without even the dying embers from a recently lit fire in the grate. Her lover kissed
her again while his hands moved over her gown, loosening the buttons of her bodice until it gaped open.

  Cool air hit her flesh, but she didn’t care. She was burning on the inside. She needed the cold or she feared she’d burst into flames.

  His hands skimmed over her flesh, touching her in places no one had ever touched her. And his mouth followed close behind, his tongue licking, then his mouth sucking. Rachael released a moan, then a sigh of pent up satisfaction when he picked her up and placed her on the bed.

  “Are you sure, my little dove? We can stop now, but I won’t be able to once we start.”

  “I don’t want to stop,” she answered. “I won’t ask you to stop,” she promised.

  She heard him shed his clothes, then felt the bed shift when he moved over her.

  His hands roamed her body. His mouth kissed every inch of her until she thought she’d go mad. When she was sure she couldn’t endure any more without shattering, his body pressed down atop hers.

  Rachael felt a moment of fear when he entered her, but she refused to allow anxiety to control her. She wanted this. She was certain she’d never experience this again, and she refused to live the rest of her life without knowing what it was like between a man and a woman.

  A few moments later, there wasn’t a chance that she’d let him stop even if he wanted to. She was spiraling up to the highest heaven. Soaring above the clouds, circling the moon, then rocketing higher. She didn’t know emotions this strong were possible. Couldn’t believe this could be happening to her, and she owed this marvelous experience to the man lying atop her. The man taking her with him as they journeyed beyond the loftiest mountaintop. Then, they soared even higher.

  Higher and higher, then higher still. Then…

  Rachael released a throaty cry as she soared through the nighttime sky. Stars exploded all around her, then with a shuddering cry, she fell into pillowed softness. The journey seemed to last forever yet was over far too soon. When she recovered, she lay on the bed gasping for the air she needed to breathe.

  “Oh, my little dove,” her lover in the fox mask said, his voice ragged and hoarse. “That was…”

  Rachael pressed a finger atop his lips to prevent him from finishing his sentence. She didn’t want there to be words spoken between them. She expected nothing after this night. Expecting more would only lead to disappointment.

  He smiled, then rolled away from her but didn’t leave her. He took her with him and cradled her next to him, then brought a cover over her to keep her warm.

  Rachael couldn’t believe she’d experienced something so extraordinary. She ran her fingers over his naked flesh, across his broad shoulders, down his muscled arms. Finally, she let her hands rest on his chest.

  His body was damp from the exertion, and his chest rose and fell as if he’d run several miles without slowing.

  “Thank you,” she whispered to the man who’d given her the most incredible experience of her life.

  Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

  . . .

  Rachael woke to the startled gasps and shrieks of Julia Bentley, Lady Comston, Pauline Somersby, plus at least a half dozen or more of Julia’s friends.

  Rachael was alone in a strange bed, in a strange room, and she was naked. Her head pounded like the devil. It took her several moments to waken enough to realize the full extent of what was happening.

  Lady Comston ushered everyone from the room except for herself, Julia, and Pauline. Thankfully, Milly rushed through the door and took over. She helped Rachael into a robe, then gathered her discarded clothes from the floor while Lady Comston screeched and wailed about Rachael’s scandalous behavior.

  Julia and Pauline were speechless as they stared at the center of the bed. The stunned expressions on their faces spoke volumes.

  Rachael followed their gazes and focused on the dark splotch that provided evidence of her total and complete ruin.

  She had no choice but to pack her clothes and leave in disgrace.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Rachael woke early the following morning feeling as if she hadn’t slept the night before. She must have, though, because she’d relived the night she’d given herself to the stranger in the fox mask. That was a memory she cherished for special times when she slept.

  She dressed, and followed Milly’s directions to the small dining room where breakfast was laid out. Waking early so she could eat breakfast with her father had been a habit of hers for as long as she could remember.

  She loved their special time together. Loved talking about the events that were being debated in the House of Lords. Loved discussing the latest world news that he’d read in the morning papers. But most of all, she loved the fact that he spoke to her as an intelligent adult, and didn’t think it was odd that she was interested in events that most females didn’t even know were going on around them. She intended to continue the habit of rising early though her father wouldn’t be here to talk to.

  She walked into the room expecting she’d have an hour or two alone. Instead, she found her husband already at the table with his plate filled and a cup of coffee before him. She noticed there were no servants in attendance. He obviously intended to spend time alone the same as she. He rose when she entered.

  “Good morning,” he said in greeting.

  “Good morning.”

  He pulled out the chair on his right and she sat.

  “Would you like me to fill a plate for you?”

  “Yes, please.” Rachael couldn’t explain why she’d said yes. He didn’t know her. Didn’t know her likes, or even the quantity of food she required. Perhaps she simply wanted to see what he chose for her.

  He went to the sideboard and returned with a plate. It was perfect. Just the right amount of eggs, toasted bread points, two strips of crispy bacon, and a spoonful of orange marmalade. She couldn’t hide her surprise. How had he guessed what she liked? He didn’t know her. Had never eaten a meal with her.

  Then, she looked at the food on his plate. Everything was identical to hers, except less quantity on her plate.

  “I hope this pleases you,” he said, sitting down beside her.

  “Yes, my lord. It’s perfect.”

  He didn’t answer, nor did he begin a conversation, but lifted his fork and continued eating. Rachael poured her coffee and took a sip, thankful for its rich flavor, then began eating.

  “I’m surprised to see you up so early,” he said eventually, continuing to eat as if he enjoyed his meal. He didn’t appear nervous in the least.

  Rachael wished she could say the same.

  “I’ve never been in the habit of sleeping late. My father rose early, and I joined him for breakfast each morning.”

  “Why?”

  His question surprised her. She paused with her fork midway to her mouth and looked at him.

  He rephrased his question. “Are you and your father close?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I like to think so.”

  “What did you talk about during your meals?” he said as he continued to eat. “Was your father interested in social gossip and finding out who’d committed the latest social misstep, or was he only interested in what events he would be forced to accompany you and your mother to that evening?”

  She laughed. “No. Father could care less about the social scene. He accompanied Mother and me out of a sense of duty.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Then what did you discuss?”

  Rachael hesitated. She knew what Society thought of females who took an interest in things other than the latest styles in clothing and gossip. She remembered Julia Bentley’s cutting remarks from what Rachael had overheard at Julia’s house party. Remarks that indicated that every male in Society looked down on her because of her intelligence. They didn’t feel as if they could talk to her.

  She should avoid pointing out her peculiarities, but this man was her husband. He would find out soon enough that she wasn’t a featherbrain. That she took an interest in a great
variety of things. “Social matters,” she said tentatively. “Political issues.”

  His head tilted to the side as if he couldn’t believe she’d uttered such nonsense.

  “Would you care to elaborate?”

  She placed her cup back in its saucer. “Are you sure you want to hear what interests your wife? You may not approve.”

  “Somehow, I have a feeling it won’t matter if I approve or not. Your interests are already firmly ingrained.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “You can blame Father for that,” she said, then braced her spine for what was to come. “Father and I followed the War in the Crimea very closely. We had a private celebration last September when Sevastapol fell. We had another celebration last month when the Treaty of Paris was signed, and the war was finally over. That was the first time I ever saw my father a little tipsy. Mother thought it disgraceful, but I understood why he’d celebrated in the extreme.”

  He smiled. “Go on. What else has caught your interest?”

  “We also had several discussions about trade with China and profits from the opium traffic. Father thinks that before long, we’ll be forced to deal with the problem like we were forced to several years ago.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a problem that is growing. Trade with China is essential. Opening more ports for foreign goods will benefit everyone. But, the smuggling of opium into China is a blemish on our country’s good name that will live with us forever. The number of lives that have been destroyed because of the addiction is a travesty.”

  “Bloody hell, wife. You should be sitting in the House of Lords.”

  “Would that I could,” Rachael admitted. She concentrated on the food on her plate for a while longer, then asked the question that gnawed at her. “Are you ready to call Father out for how he’s ruined me?”

  “Not yet, but I’m thinking about it.”

  She searched his expression for a sign that he was serious, but there was a glimmer of humor in his eyes. She was glad to see hints of laughter there. It encouraged her to continue. “Then don’t bring up the topic of the sale of gin in St. Giles and the surrounding areas or you’ll find out how unlike other Society females I am.”