by Tonya Brooks
~~~~~
“Oh, gracious!” Charity Halstead said wide eyed as she heard it.
“Drat it all, Faith, now look what you've done,” Hope Halstead accused.
Faith Halstead merely hopped up on the bench and peered over the wall at the red haired woman grinning back up at her. Still annoyed with her father, and embarrassed at being overheard, she should have been vexed with the woman's laughter, but something about the mischievous twinkle in her green eyes assured her that this was going to be a friend.
“Apologies. I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” the woman apologized. “But I feel the same way about this blasted season.”
Faith's grin matched the other woman's. “Ah. A kindred spirit,” she said, pleased that it was so.
“Faith, who are you talking to?”
“Oh, gracious, get down from there. Ladies do not hang over the garden wall.”
~~~~~
Scarlett stepped up onto the bench on her side, peered over at the other two and exclaimed, “You're triplets!” Identical triplets at that. All three young ladies had the same pale gold hair, the same lovely blue eyes, and the same sweet smile. The fact that they were all wearing the exact same dress was a little baffling though.
~~~~~
“I'm sorry if we were disturbing you,” Hope said, terribly embarrassed at having their silly conversation overheard by a complete stranger.
“Not, a'tall,” their neighbor readily assured them. “I was dying of boredom and you three have helped me take my mind off myself.”
“Perhaps we should introduce ourselves,” Charity suggested as she recalled her manners. “These are my sisters, Faith and Hope, and I'm Charity Halstead.”
“Scarlett Ashbrook,” she said with a beaming smile.
“Oh, dear,” Hope sighed in remorse and dropped a belated curtsy. “So very pleased to meet you, Baroness.”
All the ton was abuzz with gossip about Baroness Montvale's come out ball, and how no one had seen even a glimpse of the elusive lady yet. To have made such a horrid first impression with a member of the highly revered Ashbrook family was a major faux pas and guaranteed to ruin yet another season for them.
To which the lady in question gave her a mock scowl. “Now, we'll have none of that nonsense,” she informed them. “I just know we're going to be the best of friends, so you must call me Scarlett.”
“A friend would be nice,” Faith admitted, pleased with the ladies lack of concern for their horrid breach of propriety. “We've not made many in Town, I'm afraid.”
~~~~~
“Why ever not?” Scarlett asked in surprise since they seemed to be perfectly delightful.
The sisters exchanged a look before Charity confessed hesitantly, “We got off on the wrong foot with last season’s original.”
“She took offense because the three of us appeared at the season’s opening ball in the exact same gown that she was wearing,” Hope explained.
“And since she has blonde hair and blue eyes, we looked like quadruplets,” Faith snickered. “She was incensed.”
Which sounded like utter rubbish to Scarlett. She shrugged negligently and said, “I would have found such a thing hilarious, had it been me.”
“Apparently, you've never met Priscilla Atherton,” Hope said dryly.
“She's Viscountess Melville now,” Charity corrected.
“Nasty little cat,” Faith injected. “She began to call us the three graces and quite ruined our chances.”
“Because she compared you to goddesses?” Was questioned in confusion.
“Oh, no. Because she named us Gracie Mae, Graceless and Oh, Gracious.”
Scarlett's pert little nose wrinkled in distaste. “She does sound like a spiteful cat.”
“And she holds a grudge.”
“No doubt she plans to make our lives miserable this season as well.”
“Especially now that she's married a viscount.”
“Then we shall just have to marry the three of you off to loftier titles,” their neighbor decided and saw their looks of dismay. “That is, if you wish to be married,” was hastily clarified.
“Well, of course we do.”
“We just don't know any gentlemen with loftier titles.”
“Or any gentlemen at all, really.”
Scarlett's smile was knowing. “Ladies, I happen to know quite a few gentlemen and they all have excellent titles,” she assured them and then frowned because none of the men that she knew were considered proper gentlemen, nor were they looking for wives. They were scandalous rakes, after all, but they could still prove useful, of that she was certain.
How, she didn't know yet, but Scarlett was confident that she would think of something. Leaving that little detail to be dealt with later, she looked the trio over carefully and asked curiously, “D'you mind if I ask why you're all dressed alike?”
“Our modiste thought it would be striking.”
She shook her head negatively. “You're already identical and impossible to tell apart as it is,” she informed them in a plain common sense manner. “A gentleman would have a hard enough time deciding which of you to ask to dance, much less marry him. You need to dress in different colors so one knows who you are.”
“Like a signature color?” Hope asked and then brightened at the thought. “Oh, I like the sound of that. My very own color.”
“I choose blue,” Faith injected.
“Pink is mine,” Charity insisted.
Hope smiled cheerfully. “And I'm yellow.”
“How lovely,” Scarlett agreed. “Now no one will have any difficulty distinguishing the three of you.”
“Oh, gracious. We'd better let the modiste know so she can change our order.”
“Now that we have that settled, we're going to form a plan of action,” Scarlett informed them with a wicked smile. She had inherited her grandmother’s knack for machinations and now had a reason to put them to use for something other than bedeviling her brother. “Viscountess Melville had best be prepared to step out of the limelight. The three of you are going to take the ton by storm this season.”
The three young ladies had no idea how she planned to accomplish that feat, but the devious gleam in Scarlett's eyes assured them that she would make it happen.
Chapter Eight
Langford House, London, England, 1812
Since they had arrived in Town, Scarlett had been trapped inside the bloody townhouse. The only time she had been allowed to leave had been this morning when her grandmother had taken her for a private presentation to the queen, one of the dowager's dearest friends. That had been a nerve-wracking experience, and one that Scarlett hoped to never have to endure again.
It had been almost as bad as when the patronesses of Almack's had been invited to join them for tea yesterday. Scarlett had been on her best behavior, and her grandmother had been pleased when the ladies favored her with their permission to dance the waltz. The whole process was beyond baffling to Scarlett.
Why should she need anyone's permission to dance? Who were the patronesses that they could grant or deny permission for anything? And who gave them that kind of power? It was absurd. Almost as absurd as she felt pacing the length of her bedchamber in full evening attire.
Scarlett was a nervous wreck.
She didn't want to do anything to embarrass her family, so she had sworn that she would be on her best behavior tonight. With a condition attached, of course. Not that she would actually dare to do anything scandalous at her come out ball, but her brother wasn't willing to take any chances, so he had agreed to her demands.
It was somewhat of a relief that the entire Ashbrook clan would be in attendance. At least she'd have her family surrounding her to help ensure she didn't forget herself. Grand’Mere would have a fit if she caused yet another scandal in a family notorious for them. Juliette had given Scarlett a bolstering hug along with her assurances earlier in the evening.
“You'll do splendidly, my dear,” the dowager had assured
her with the utmost confidence and more than a little arrogance. “Ashbrooks are not followers, Scarlett. We set the tone that everyone else follows; therefore we are allowed our little eccentricities. If you should make a slight faux pas, and I do mean a slight one,” she had emphasized a bit sternly, “no one will pay it any heed.”
Knowing that her granddaughter had an extremely limited amount of patience, Juliette decided not to tempt the devil by forcing her to stand in the receiving line with the rest of the family. Instead, Scarlett would be making a grand entrance on her brother’s arm after the majority of their guests were present and it was time for the dancing to begin. It also afforded a more dramatic entrance, which pleased the dowager immensely.
The delay merely left the young baroness even more on edge, as she detested waiting, and could not abide being idle for long. Which was why Scarlett was anxiously pacing while she waited for Devlin to come for her. When the knock sounded, she practically raced across the room and flung the door open before the maid could answer it.
~~~~~
The breath caught in Devlin's throat when he saw her. He had known his little sister had grown into a beautiful woman, but until this moment, he hadn't realized just how much so. The fact that she was absolutely stunning left him momentarily speechless. From the top of her head to the tips of her satin dancing slippers, she looked every inch a regal baroness. He'd never been so proud in his entire life. Taking her gloved hand in his, he leaned forward to kiss her temple.
“You look incredible, minx,” he said in a voice thick with emotion.
Just as a proper lady should, she curtsied elegantly and replied, “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Where have the years gone?” Devlin asked in wonder and suddenly felt his age. “It seems like yesterday that you were just a baby, and here you are a beautiful woman. The parents would be proud, ya know.”
~~~~~
Scarlett bit her lip as tears welled in her eyes. “Damnation, Dev, don't get maudlin on me now,” she growled like the hoyden she was. “I'm nervous enough like it is.”
“No reason for that, minx. I have complete confidence in you,” he assured her. “Just think of this as another challenge to conquer. I've never seen you lose a battle yet.”
“Yes, but I'm usually armed when I go into battle,” she shot back pertly and carefully patted her skirts so they wouldn't wrinkle. “This deuced gown didn't come equipped with a weapon.”
He chuckled at the mischievous glint in her eyes. “Ready to breach the lion’s den, m'dear?”
“Does that mean I can bring my rifle?” She asked hopefully and her brother laughed in genuine amusement.
The minute they stepped onto the landing, Scarlett's nerves began to flutter wildly and her heart beat a rapid tattoo. Her first impulse was to turn around and rush back to her room, but the sight of her family lined up at the bottom of the staircase steeled her resolve. Ashbrooks were not cowards; she reminded herself sternly and walked serenely by her brother’s side.
~~~~~
“Bless my soul,” the butler said in awe as he beheld the daughter of the house in all her splendor. Little Scarlett had turned into a lady right before his eyes and he couldn't have been more proud if she were his own daughter. “You look like an angel, little one.” Davison said fondly, not caring a whit that her very dignified brother, the duke, was observing his undignified manner. Having known the pair since they were in leading strings did give a lifelong servant some leeway after all.
~~~~~
“Thank you, Davy,” she replied with a genuine smile and kissed his cheek. The butler had on more than one occasion in the past, indulged her childhood desire to play hide and seek with the entire household staff, and both brother and sister knew his normally stiff demeanor hid a heart of gold.
Resuming his usual somber mien, Davison intoned above the din below them in the ballroom, “His Grace, Devlin, Duke of Langford.” A hushed silence fell over the crowd as every head turned expectantly toward the staircase, the occupants eager for their first glimpse of the elusive Scarlett Ashbrook. “Lady Scarlett, Baroness Montvale,” the butler announced with pride evident in his resonating tone.
Shocked gasps and exclamations of awe filled the cavernous room as Devlin and Scarlett moved along the balustrade as regal as the centuries old blood that ran through their veins. Brother and sister made a striking pair as they began their descent down the staircase. With his black hair and pale blue eyes, Devlin Ashbrook was a ridiculously handsome man, but formally dressed all in black, he was the perfect foil for his sister’s exotic beauty.
Scarlett's gown of the palest emerald shimmered incandescently in the light of thousands of candles. Designed from a portrait of the first Baroness Montvale's wedding gown, the simplicity of the medieval style did nothing to compete with, and everything to enhance, the young woman's extraordinary beauty.
The figure hugging bodice was laced down the back by gold roping while a two foot train trailed gracefully along behind her. Gold thread was heavily embroidered in a braided pattern around the scooped neckline and over the straps that clung to the edge of her shoulders. Her ancestor's gold girdle rested atop her hips, with gold roping dangling from the ornate clasp bearing the Montvale coat-of-arms.
A medieval circlet of intricately braided gold banded her forehead, while the matching cuff bracelets were clasped around her upper arms, the Montvale signet ring on her left hand. Her eyes sparkled as brightly as the multifaceted emeralds set in the heirloom jewelry. The mane of flaming tresses was swept up on the sides and cascaded down her back like a river of fire. The effect was dramatic and everything that Juliette could have hoped for.
The entire Ashbrook clan gathered around them to offer their own praise and compliment her before Devlin nodded at the orchestra to begin playing. He bowed formally and asked, “Shall we promenade, Lady Scarlett?”
Somewhat relieved that she hadn't tripped over the blasted train and fallen down the stairs, and bolstered by her families words of encouragement, Scarlett curtsied before him, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. “But of course, Your Grace,” she grinned up at him and allowed Devlin to lead her on a circuit around the floor before taking their position for the first dance.
It didn't take long for the guests to follow suit. The members of the ton watched avidly and were impressed with the young lady's graceful movements and enchanted by the adoring smile she bestowed upon her brother. Devlin was a skilled partner, and one that she was very familiar with, as was evident by the way they glided across the marble floor in a most elegant fashion.
~~~~~
“This isn't so bad, is it, minx?” Devlin asked hopefully. He hated to force Scarlett to do anything, especially something she really didn't want to do, but dammit, this time he hadn't had a choice in the matter. All young ladies deserved a season, and his sister was no exception.
“That remains to be seen, brother dear,” she informed him, the smile never wavering as he led her into a turn with practiced ease.
Devlin couldn't help noticing the admiring glances his sister was receiving as well as the looks of blatant interest of a more unseemly sort. He scowled at several of the men watching her to no avail as their attention was focused solely on Scarlett. His protective instincts kicked in and his first impulse was to whisk his sister out of the ballroom and hide her away.
“It seems you had the right idea earlier, minx,” he commented in a low growl.
“What idea was that?” She asked, surprised by his tone.
“I may need the rifle after all,” he complained. “Or at the very least, my pistols.”
“What the deuce for?” Scarlett frowned in confusion.
He fixed her with a pointed stare and admitted, “To keep the wolves at bay.”
Her lips twitched in amusement at his nonsense. “Pistols for two and breakfast for one, you mean?”
“Indeed,” Devlin agreed in complete seriousness.
~~~~~
Much to the surprise o
f everyone nearby, Lady Scarlett laughed in genuine delight at something her brother had said. The sound of her laughter was not the tinkling sound of most young ladies. No, her laughter was as intoxicating as the young woman herself. It drew even more attention from anyone close enough to hear it, and her expression left many a young man’s heart beating heavily. The emerald eyes sparkled like rare gems, her creamy skin glowed with health and vitality. A stunningly beautiful woman to begin with, but when she laughed, Scarlett Ashbrook was quite simply breathtaking.
No sooner than Devlin led her off of the floor, a veritable wave of men descended on them, eager for introductions. “Grand’Mere,” Scarlett said in a slightly panicked voice as she saw the men rushing toward her.
“Brace yourself, my dear,” the duchess advised in satisfaction. “I believe you are about to become the sensation of the season.”
“Damnation,” her granddaughter muttered under her breath and forced a charming smile to her lips. Being a sensation was the last thing she wanted. There was only one man’s attention she hoped to gain, and so far she hadn't even seen Nicholas. But she knew he was there. There was no way he'd miss her come out ball. Now he'd have no choice but to realize she was a grown woman and not his little sister.
~~~~~
By the third dance, Devlin and his friends had escaped the ballroom, as she had known they would. Summoning a footman, Scarlett instructed him to find her brother and give him a message. The servant went in search of the duke and found him in the midst of a game of billiards. After waiting patiently for the duke to complete his shot, he stepped up beside him and murmured the message low enough that only Devlin could hear.
~~~~~
“Bloody hell,” Devlin growled and laid the cue stick on the table. His frowning gaze encompassed his friends and relations as he informed them, “Gentlemen, I'm going to need your assistance.”
“Oh, hell,” Blaise groaned and suspected the worst. “What did the little hoyden do?”
“Nothing... yet,” he admitted with a scowl. “Apparently, some of her friends spent the better part of last season as wallflowers and Scarlett's determined it won't happen again. Therefore, the minx has engaged in a bit of blackmail.”