The Price of Love

by Vicki Hopkins

  “Oh, now you place me into a difficult position.” Jolene’s face grew serious as she thought about the proper description for her dance partner. “Proficient, perhaps.” He didn’t look terribly impressed with her choice of words.

  “Well, you can thank my mother, the duchess. She insisted that I be trained in all social graces, including dancing.”

  “Then she did well giving you that advice.” Her dance partner looked thoughtfully at her for a moment, still managing not to run the two of them into another couple.

  “You do know,” he said with a smirk on his face, “that a hundred years ago waltzing was said to have been the main source of moral weakness in young couples. It corrupted the body and mind of its generation. Did Austrians hold the same opinion?”

  “I believe when the waltz became popular, some of the staunch aristocratic families thought the practice scandalous. After all, to be in such close proximity between a male and female in a public assembly was unheard of in the eighteenth century, was it not?”

  “Now, look at us. A room filled with modern thinkers enjoying the closeness of male and female on the dance floor.”

  Lord Holland’s hand squeezed her waist. Jolene scowled. “I remind you, sir, that I am a guest in your country.” She looked into his blue orbs and gave a stern rebuke. “It is not wise to offend foreigners.” His smile faded into a serious frown.

  “Of course, as you wish.” His hand suddenly went limp upon her waist.

  No further words were spoken between them. He continued to twirl her into a dizzy state of mind until the final chord of the musical selection had ended. Slightly out of breath, it felt as if the room still spun while she remained stationary.

  “Are you all right?” He reached out to her forearm to steady her stance.

  “Yes, please forgive me.” She exhaled a breath, glancing over at the refreshment table. “I think a drink might help.”

  “Please, let me,” he said, offering his arm. He escorted her slowly over to a footman holding a silver tray of flutes filled with champagne. Lord Holland retrieved one and handed it to her looking concerned.

  “I insist you rest,” he said. “I feel dreadful that I may have spun you too often in my attempt to impress you with my footwork.” He led her over to a nearby chair.

  Jolene chuckled. “Oh dear, don’t blame yourself. The evening is proving to be a bit overwhelming with all the introductions and attention anyway.”

  Lord Holland’s facial expression turned sour as another one of his companions approached. “Well, it appears that Mr. Chambers is about to overwhelm you with another spin on the dance floor,” he announced. “Shall I send him away?”

  “No, let’s not be rude,” Jolene chided. Robert’s lips pressed together in a straight line.

  She tilted her head and gazed upon Geoffrey Chambers. He arrived before her, and she glanced upward. When she caught his intensive gaze, Jolene felt like a silly schoolgirl. Her untoward reaction to his presence caught her breath in her throat. Geoffrey’s cologne, heady and musky, wafted toward her nostrils. His shoulders were squarely set as he looked down upon her with intrigue.

  Jolene rose from the chair, having recovered from her dizzy spell, and presented herself with poise. When she found herself eye to eye, she noticed the perfectly chiseled features upon his face from his brow to his jawline.

  “Lady von Lamberg, your beauty fills the room with awe,” he spoke with conviction. A moment later, he took her hand before she had the chance to raise it and kissed it firmly planting his lips upon her knuckles. Warmth spread up her arm, and she shuddered over the sensation he elicited from her weak womanhood. The entire moment unnerved her to the core.

  “Cousin,” Robert droned somberly, “May I introduce Komtesse von Lamberg of Vienna.”

  Poor Lord Holland sounded rather disenchanted. Grace’s caution about Mr. Chambers’ character did nothing to dampen her interest. After all, she still needed to form her own opinion, did she not?

  “Might I have the pleasure of the next dance?”

  “Her ladyship is exhausted, Cousin. I believe that it would be polite to allow her a moment to regain her strength before asking her to dance.” Robert’s firm voice tried to dissuade his offer.

  “I’d be happy to dance with you,” Jolene answered. She looked at Lord Holland. “I feel fully recovered,” she assured him.

  Much to Robert’s displeasing glower, she reached out to Mr. Chambers’ arm. As he gently led her into the center of the surrounding dance couples, Jolene noticed that a few guests had turned their attention upon them. Off to the right, his parents smiled with obvious approval.

  His hand swallowed hers in his palm, and his long fingers firmly grasped her waist. No objection escaped her lips as it did with Robert’s squeeze of his fingertips. Jolene glanced quickly over to Robert. He had been joined by Grace at his side, and both displayed an equal frown of displeasure. Jolene looked away and back into Mr. Chambers’ eyes.

  The charismatic atmosphere that surrounded his person felt unnerving. Jolene had never been exposed to a man with such handsome and charming characteristics. A weakness in her knees caused her to shift on her feet. He calmly, but firmly, held her in his arms as the music began to play.

  Chapter 7

  Season of Matchmaking

  As the music started and the first steps of the waltz began, Geoffrey Chambers kept his gaze upon the stunning beauty from Austria. Determined to make an impression, he began his usual sequence of showing personal interest into a woman’s affairs.

  “May I offer my condolences, Lady von Lamberg, on the recent death of your stepfather.” She pulled her eyes away from him almost as if she were embarrassed by his comment.

  “That is very kind of you, Mr. Chambers.”

  “I think it’s unusually bold of you to have done away with the usual black fashion that would have dulled your beauty. I’m afraid our country loves to wallow in black far too long after the death of a loved one.”

  “I’m not fond of black, and I don’t believe my stepfather would have wanted me to wear it for months on end. He was a man who loved life and taught me to love it as well.”

  Geoffrey noticed that Robert and Grace had suddenly entered the dance floor and were only a few feet away. A bit peeved over Robert’s glare and Grace’s frown, he decided to put distance between them.

  “A wise man, indeed,” Geoffrey said, making a rather forceful twirl in the next stanza. He held his hand tighter around her tiny waist should she lose her balance. The movement caught her off guard, but she kept in step with him until he had put a respectable distance between the two people who were intent on eavesdropping.

  He returned his gaze into her eyes that appeared captured by his own. Truth be told, he knew it was his best feature. His brown eyes had flecks of gold. Mother Nature had blessed him with dark lashes and perfect eyebrows that were not bushy. Being clean-shaven, with his hair slicked back, put him above his competition.

  Geoffrey’s handsome demeanor and decent looks had been the successful key to keeping the interest of the ladies. He knew how to place a gentle, but firm touch upon their bodies. A caring demeanor, intriguing look, and gentleman-like behavior usually ended in the same result. There was no better time than to make use of his charms with the komtesse from Austria. The question remained whether she would fall for his disingenuous attempts, or if she would take heed of the warnings some may have given her already about his character.

  It is time to find a wife and settle down, he heard his father’s stern voice. If he had a wife with such wealth, beauty, and status, he might consider it. Like a rich man looking for the finest in any purchase to own, Geoffrey Chambers was not about to settle for just anyone. He knew his parents expected more. As he saw them in the distance, they smiled and nodded over his present, fortunate position. Slowly moving his eyes back on her flawless complexion, he saw that she continued to look at him with noticeable interest.

  “Are you enjoying your stay
in London?” He looked directly into her eyes giving his utmost attention in return.

  “I’ve only just arrived,” she said. A sweet, but subdued smile curled her lips. “My hope is to see more of London in the weeks ahead.”

  “Weeks?” He raised one brow over the disappointment of such a short visit. “Will you not stay for the entire height of society?”

  “Well, I do hope to remain here long enough to enjoy what the English denote as the season.”

  He lifted the corner of his mouth in a partial grin over her charming accent. “I take it you have no season then in Vienna.” He suppressed the twitching smirk on his face.

  “Oh, we do of sorts.”

  After a few more twirls, she tightened her grip upon his hand. He reciprocated ever so slightly in return, but not so much as to be offensive in his actions.

  “Well, there is much to see in the way of English history in London. If you would be so inclined, it would be my pleasure to escort you to some of those sites.”

  A slight rosy blush flamed her cheeks. “I’m sure you have better things to do, Mr. Chambers, than be a tour guide for me.”

  “On the contrary, I would consider it a great privilege if you will allow me the honor.”

  It was then the waltz ended and the magical moment faded. The musicians put down their instruments to take a break. Everyone’s chatter rose within the ballroom, which had made an untimely intrusion upon his private moment. The komtesse had not yet given her answer to his offer.

  While he stood in hope of an affirmative response, to his dismay attendees at the ball suddenly surrounded her in interest. In a moment’s time, her attention had been lost. She merely nodded and made her apologies.

  “If you’ll excuse, Mr. Chambers, while I speak with the guests.”

  She turned her back toward him and with enthusiasm began interacting with others. Robert Holland strode to his side and pulled him away by his upper arm.

  “It’s not polite to engage her completely in this setting, Cousin. Step away.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled, jerking loose from his grip. He walked with Robert over to Alastair, who stood by the far wall with an irritating smirk on his face.

  “Tell me, what is she like?” He took a speedy step toward him.

  “Unlike any woman I’ve had the privilege of dancing with at a ball.” His eyes glanced in her direction. “She is mesmerizing, intoxicating, she’s...”

  “My goodness, ‘ol chap,” Robert chided. “Don’t tell me you’re smitten already.”

  Geoffrey did not respond. He kept gazing at the golden form on the other side of the room.

  “Have you forgotten our earlier discussion that we each get a chance to capture her heart?” Robert reminded him snidely.

  “If my senses tell me right, I own her heart already.” He sounded superior and smug but didn’t give a damn. A footman walked by with a tray of filled champagne flutes, and Geoffrey plucked one off, quickly bringing it to his lips and taking a large gulp.

  Robert leaned into him and lowered his voice. “You arrogant son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Here, here,” Alastair chimed in. “Well said, Robert. I have yet to dance with the lady.”

  Geoffrey laughed at the thought of boring Alastair capturing anything but an elderly spinster. Irritated over Holland’s dig, he pulled his mouth back to one side. With a challenging look, he returned the taunt.

  “You are just as egotistical as I am and as much a womanizer. Don’t lecture me, you bastard.”

  Bastard.

  He had used the word on purpose, keenly aware of the gossip that surrounded Robert’s parentage. He had been born as the duke’s illegitimate love child. It was only until he married his mistress did Robert inherit an ounce of worth, title, or wealth. The fact that they were related as half cousins through his mother made no difference. He wasn’t about to allow his younger relation to get the better of him.

  It didn’t take long for a frown to spread across Robert’s face. He fleetingly thought of raising his fist and punching him in the jaw. Not being a man to back away from a fight, the only thing that constrained his ire was appearing anything but a gentleman in front of the komtesse. A brawl would taint his chances to influence her affections.

  “Not here,” he growled at Robert. “If you want to save your honor, you can do so later.”

  After he exchanged his empty glass with a full one from a nearby footman, he stepped away. He strode over to his parents, who were watching the Austrian beauty still surrounded by curious guests wishing to have a word with the foreign aristocratic.

  “Did you enjoy your waltz?” His father turned his attention back to his son with a sly smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

  “Immensely. The komtesse is quite a woman,"

  “You won’t stop your pursuit after one waltz, will you Geoffrey?” His mother reached over and lightly touched his forearm.

  “No, of course not. After a few others have their chance, I shall return to her side.”

  “Then what are your plans to pursue her further?” His father asked, leaning into him but keeping his voice low.

  “I’ve offered to be her tour guide through London.”

  “Brilliant idea.” He gloated.

  “Make sure you bring her over for tea as often as you can,” his mother reminded him. “I’m curious about her myself.”

  Geoffrey took note that the orchestra had returned to their positions and picked up their instruments. With a tap of the wand upon the music stand, the conductor led them in the next waltz. The music quickly drew couples into the center of the room.

  He noticed that Alastair had approached, bowed, and asked for her hand. After observing the less than interested facial expression upon the komtesse, he knew that Alastair could not compete with his charm. The only competition he worried about came from Robert, who stood with Grace Whitefield drinking champagne and watching the dancing pair. If his cousin thought he had a chance to win her, he was sadly mistaken. Sadly, Geoffrey mused with dark eyes. I shall not let you win this one Holland.

  * * * *

  Alastair Whitefield approached her as the musicians returned to continue the evening’s festivities.

  “Lady von Lamberg,” he began with an eager expression. He gave a quick bow and then teasingly chided her for having forgotten her agreement.

  “I seem to remember that you promised me the first dance this evening. And now look—you have been twirled around the dance floor by two others.”

  Jolene brought her hand to her mouth in embarrassment. “My goodness. I am so sorry that I forgot.” She had never been one to break her word, but her attention toward Robert and Geoffrey had consumed her entirely. “Will you be so kind as to forgive me?”

  Alastair flashed a warm smile and extended his gloved hand toward her, which Jolene repentantly grasped. “Forgiven. Now, may I have the next dance?”

  His kind demeanor touched her, and she remembered Grace’s words of his upstanding character. However, when her hand met his, nothing sparked further interest.

  They made their way onto the dance floor, and Alastair gently held her as they waltzed with ease. Jolene mused that every young man of wealth in London must have taken dance classes to be so adept at their footwork. Nevertheless, as Alastair’s obvious anxious gaze of interest met her eyes, she felt an inward void. No man had ever incited such a reaction in the pit of her stomach as Geoffrey Chambers. Jolene tried to remain attentive, but intermittently she caught her eyes wandering through the crowd looking for Geoffrey. To her disappointment, only Lord Holland and Grace were visible. Where could he have gone?

  As soon as the thought left her mind, he swirled around the two of them with another woman in his arms. A pang of utter disappointment took hold of her, and she stumbled in her step. Geoffrey clutched her hand and waist tightly.

  “Are you all right?” He tilted his head with concern.

  “Yes, I am.” She lifted her eyes and looked at him with warm appreciat
ion. “As you know from my previous embarrassing incident at the dinner table, I tend to have moments of clumsiness.”

  “Ah, the fork incident,” he grinned.

  “Yes, the fork incident.” She shuddered over her uncomfortable reaction upon hearing the Holland name. At that moment, Robert came back into her thoughts. He joined the dance floor with Grace, looking intently at the two of them. Busybody, Jolene mused.

  “What are your plans tomorrow?” Alastair asked, bringing her attention back to him.

  “Tomorrow?” She had only one desire for tomorrow. “Do you think your parents would provide a carriage for me?”

  “A carriage?”

  “Yes, I have someone I wish to visit in the morning.”

  “Well, of course, I don’t see why not. Do you need someone to accompany you? London can be a bit overwhelming.”

  “No, not really. It’s an undertaking I must see to myself.”

  “What time do you wish to leave?”

  Jolene thought for a moment and decided late morning. “Eleven would be convenient.”

  “Fine. I’ll see to it,” Alastair announced. “As soon as we return home, I’ll instruct Branson to have our motorcar and driver waiting for you out front.”

  “Motorcar?”

  “Why yes,” he said a bit surprised. “Don’t tell me you’ve never ridden in a motorcar.”

  Jolene felt antiquated. “My stepfather held to the old ways, and he resisted modernization at all costs.”

  “Not our family. My father is always ready for the newest invention. Nevertheless, the motorcar will be your mode of transportation in the morning.”

  “Thank you so very much for your kindness.”

  Alastair’s smile faded as the music ended. “Thank you for the dance. I am sure that we will have more opportunities to speak in the days ahead.”

  “Yes, of course,” Jolene acknowledged, nodding her head.

  “Might I be so bold as to ask for another?”

  Geoffrey’s confident and smooth-toned voice came from behind. She spun around. “Why yes, I’d be delighted.” A moment later, she waltzed across the floor with the charming Mr. Chambers. As she gazed into his brown eyes, speckled with gold, she wondered if it were true that beyond his charming air, a monster lurked underneath.