by Multiple
Later in the carriage, on the way to the ball, Beth felt so much calmer. She was amazed at how long she and Father Christian had spoken. She’d gotten brave enough to tell him the drastic changes in her life which she was set upon. Not the why, just that she was going to the ball with the intent of securing a position that would take her far away from London.
Beth felt her hair again with her fingers. She had no mirror to judge the style so she made a very simple bun fixed toward the top of her head, and then she pulled a few tendrils of her hair out around the sides of her temples.
“It’s the best I can do.” The fact was she wasn’t going to the ball because of the party; she was going there on business. “Dire business,” she expelled the words with a rough voice. “Yet, I cannot let them see that.”
Finally, the carriage arrived and the Lancaster’s footman opened the carriage door for her. She left her cloak behind, stepping from the conveyance wearing a pale pink gown that wasn’t overly ornate, yet complemented her black hair and fair complexion. She let go of the footman’s helping hand and turned to speak up to her carriage driver. It was considered an unrefined action for her to do such a thing, however, she had to secure their bargain. She could be inside the ball for hours trying to complete her mission.
Her driver was a very friendly man and he assured her that he would be there when she needed him. “Thank you so much,” she said, smiling up at him, then she turned to start walking toward the long set of steps reaching to the entrance.
Beth had not gone very far when she started to notice strange occurrences. Anyone she nodded to, which was what one did on promenade to the entrance, turned his or her gaze away from her, without a concurring nod. One of the gentlemen turned to look at her so strangely. He stared, then sweeping her with his gaze from head to toe, until his gaze bore down, staying on her chest. She wanted to jerk her hands up to cover herself. Gentlemen never looked at ladies that way.
An awful feeling crept inside her with vague worries about the incident three nights past in the woods. The only people that knew about it would never tell, she silently admonished herself. If she thought there was the slightest hint anything about that incident had gotten out, she’d never try to enter the ball, no matter how desperate she was.
Yet only her best friend Lady Ariel and her brother knew. The Blacknalls, of course, yet they had more secrets to keep than the frivolity of her simple reputation. She had to be imagining it. Of course, there was always a rake about, beside the fact she’d never entered a ball unescorted before. Beth turned away to ignore the leer as she began stepping up the steps to the entrance. She was nervous and desperate, but she schooled her features to hide her churning emotions. This had to work.
She saw many acquaintances she knew, in the unconnected social ways most people rather knew each other. All of them appeared busy as she passed them. There was no trite small talk to be had, however; she was a woman on a mission. She barely caught the finery adorning Lady Lancaster’s home. She knew in the back of her mind it was resplendent beyond compare, but where she might normally talk about it with her lady friends all evening, this night her mind was far from finery and decorations.
She purposely did a social faux pas bypassing Lady Lancaster’s greeting line. Beth was certain no one would really notice, but she had to find Ariel. She was hopeful to secure a place to stay with her and make certain the school’s headmistress was at the ball.
Later she might think of it as if she’d been in the center of some theatrical play, Shakespeare perhaps, definitely one of his heart-wrenching tragedies. Later, she would never think being a member of the high society ton was quite such a thing to aspire to.
Beth approached Lady Janine, one of her dear friends, having come out the same year Beth had. “Lady Janine, it is so good to see you. Have you seen, Lady Ariel …” Beth paused, looking at the back of Lady Janine’s head, when she’d been approaching her head on. Had Lady Janine just deliberately turned away from her? The thought scattered through her mind, bringing a slight blush to her cheeks.
They were in the ballroom where people milled around the edges, talking in smaller groups leaving the center free for the dancing later on. Alarm stroked Beth’s throat, making it feel tight. She noticed the group of ladies Lady Janine stood with, all glancing back at her as though she were a lecher trying to come closer, to touch them. They all displayed furtive glances with gloved hands lifted to their noses as if some foul odor assaulted them.
Beth stiffly turned her back to them. Oh heavens. A feeling of panic started in her stomach. Then through the blur sweeping her gaze, she saw Lord Henry Ridcliff. He’d been one of her mother’s close friends. He was only a few steps away and she reached him with her hand outstretched.
“Lord Henry,” she said, barely hearing her own voice. She pushed harder. “Lord Henry, if I could have a moment.” However, Lord Henry looked over his shoulder at her, then he obviously grimaced and proceeded to turned a stiff back to her.
She felt lightheaded and nauseous, grasping her stomach with one hand. No matter which way she circled, the ton, many of them friends, were making a point to look directly at her, and then pointedly turn their backs to her. They were closing ranks, shutting her out. She swayed, hearing the words, “Harlot” to one side of her, and then, “Naked. Fornicating. Woods.” Lastly, she heard quite clearly, “Montrose. Blacknall.”
A wail wanted to scream from inside her choked throat, where she held it by force. Tears burned her eyes. She saw Lady Ariel across the room. Her dear face. Beth picked up her skirts and started walking too fast toward Ariel. She never noticed the tall and imposing figure coming toward her from the right. It seemed as if the noises in the ballroom were rising cackles attacking her ears with united sounds of distain.
“Lady Winslow,” a man’s authoritative voice snapped beside her.
It was so loud, she gasped … stopping her march toward the safety of her friend. Beth turned with irritation toward the invasion. She was a spectacle and all she wanted to do was shrink away, not become more of one. A tall man dressed in the finest outfit of Lancaster’s colors looked at her with a severe frown. It was a Lancaster footman.
“Lady Winslow, Lord and Lady Lancaster have ordered you to leave their ball at once.”
The man’s voice rang out across the ballroom, silencing the rising chatter of gossip flying around the room. Beth heard a small whine in her throat. He could have simply spoken to her quietly, not so loud everyone heard. Her desperate gaze searched for Ariel. Why wasn’t her friend by her side when her need was so dire? She saw Ariel’s delicate face looking aghast as their gazes clashed, but Ariel’s aunt forced her friend’s body around to show her back. Beth really did feel as if the entire room was swaying as shame brightened her cheeks.
“You must come with me now,” the footman ordered and it appeared he relished being able to speak to a lady so authoritatively. “Now,” he snapped.
Beth felt as if she would fall, if she were to take a step, even as badly as she wanted to flee all the shame and ridicule being laid upon her. Was there no one to save her? The footman grasped her arm with a painful grip.
Just then, a voice rang out over the commotion, “Introducing the Duke of Blacknall.” Beth couldn’t help hearing the caller announce the arrival followed by the rap of the Lancaster’s entrance cane. The attention in every corner of the room turned as one toward the entryway into the ballroom and away from her downfall.
“You’re hurting me,” she advised the footman in a low insistent hiss. “Let me go and I will …” The footman didn’t let her finish as he yanked her forward. She’d been mortified before, now she was horrorstruck.
Once again, the caller’s voice rose above the crowd, “Introducing the Lord Trinity, Marquis Montrose and his fiancée, Lady Beth Winslow.” Rap. Rap. Rap.
“You will take your hands off the lady at once,” a man’s voice growled with serious intent and authority. The footman quickly stopped manhandling her and
released his hurtful grip from her arm.
Beth raised her gaze in shock as the provocative announcement ran throughout the room. She swayed, nearly collapsing, then seeing Father Christian, who had saved her from the vicious footman. He’d been so forceful, the sound of his voice so commanding and she couldn’t reconcile the comforting nature she knew him for and the man who demanded her release.
“My lady,” he said with concern as he grabbed her about the waist with a supporting arm. If he hadn’t supported her, she’d have sunk to the floor, as the implications of the announcement were slow to make any sense to her.
“Please, Father, help me away from here,” she pleaded with her voice mulled with suppressed sobs.
“I think you ought to stay for a few moments,” Father Christian whispered to her, holding her upright with a solid arm. Then he said, “Ah, here they come … reinforcements.”
Beth didn’t want to look at anything. She wanted to flee. The people of her social circle knew every sordid detail of events she’d thought concealed. The facts were a young woman was barely allowed to kiss a gentleman without disproportionate scandal, much less be carried out of the woods, half-naked, and by a gentleman of such dubious character. She was ruined.
“Ah, here is my future wife. Lady Winslow. You’ve made me the happiest man, by accepting my proposal.”
Beth blinked, barely understanding the words’ meaning, however happy, Lord Trinity, did not sound. No, he sounded as if each word grated loudly from his throat like shards of glass. Then he announced even more loudly, “Accepting my proposal last weekend.”
Gasps filtered through the ballroom, hers mingled with them, and her gaze turned upward to his strong features. Why would he announce they were engaged? She didn’t understand a word of it, or its meaning. To see his face with his eyes so fierce, the rich blue looked black … that someone came to her aid … had even approached her. She’d never felt such gratitude. It overwhelmed her and one hot tear slid down her cheek.
“Lady Beth,” Trinity’s voice etched her name with a bass tremor. He stepped forward grasping her from Father Christian’s support.
He was dressed in the finest ballroom attire with his normally-disheveled, dark-streaked blond hair pulled back and tied at his nape. She had no choice but to take his strong arm for support as his hand and forearm wound behind her waist.
“I’m not certain I c-can stand,” she whispered.
She felt his hand beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “You can,” he vowed in a low, but strong voice. “I’ll hold you.” His hand moved from her chin to wipe his thumb across the tears on her cheeks. “Bastards,” he cursed harshly, raising his gaze to glare around the ballroom at the crowd of people.
Beth saw the Duke of Blacknall raise his hand above the crowd with some gesture. The next moment music started. The Duke of Blacknall dipped his head toward Trinity, and Beth heard him say, “We will mingle with the happy news. Make a show of it.” It sounded like a command, and then the duke nodded to her, turning away with his white hair throwing red highlights beneath the blazing chandeliers.
“We will dance,” Trinity announced close to her ear.
She clutched his arm tightly. “I can’t,” she whispered, with sounds of desperation coloring her breath.
“Look at me now, Beth.”
Her gaze leaped to his suppressed command. “You will suspend belief or questions.” He squeezed her waist with an intimacy that riveted her. “For me,” he added with a low provoking growl.
Her eyes flowed into the depths of his gaze, then to his mouth, and then back to his endless dark eyes. They were moving out onto the dance floor and she heard the strands of a waltz. She could feel each of Trinity’s fingers spread out on the small of her back.
She’d never been touched so intimately … but then she remembered that she had. Her face grew scarlet with the thought and she felt Trinity lifting her other hand into position for a waltz. His crisp white cravat transfixed her gaze and it seemed ridiculous that her wild, untamed vampire should wear one for her.
She’d never danced the waltz … Oh, she knew how, yet an unmarried woman didn’t dance such an intimate dance with a gentleman.
“Why are you doing this?” she exclaimed, not looking up at Trinity as they began the movements to the waltz.
“Because I chose to.” Her gaze leaped upward. “Now, no questions, maiden.”
She felt the sway of his hard body moving around hers. She’d never felt anything like it. Things inside of her fluttered and her gaze latched onto the vein in his wrist. She knew that her features melted into longing. There was such respite there, in his blood.
The pull of it wasn’t a hundred times as strong as it had been. But her desire for it was to escape, not for its wicked temptations. If she tasted it, she wouldn’t care what anyone thought. She wouldn’t care they danced alone, covering every inch of the dance floor, a swirling spectacle for all to see.
She saw the Duke of Blacknall speaking to Lord and Lady Lancaster. They were nodding. She saw the brother called Lord Baptiste standing beside the musicians as though guarding against them stopping. Father Christian was in a different place each time she looked talking to different groups, where before they’d turned their backs to her, now they were watching her dance.
It was ludicrous. Her entire fate changed by a man. Now, she’d become acceptable. If only they knew he wasn’t really a man. A type of unhinged giggle began in her chest. Trinity’s grip tightened on her, pulling her breasts into his chest. Not even that temptation could stop her laughter edged on crazed, as it broke free with tears scoring her cheeks.
Trinity waltzed Beth between one of the open patio doors leading outside as she laughed with overwrought qualities. There were tears streaming down her lovely face and he growled deep in his chest at the cruelty of humans. He decided they’d made their display. It would have to be enough. According to Church, the next step to save Beth was to marry her immediately. They couldn’t wait for a hastily-put-together wedding.
“Beth.” Her name left his lips as he caressed her face. How could he marry her? How could he not? Church had said the benefit would be to both of them. He’d only known the need to save her was too much a part of him; he couldn’t deny acting on it.
Trinity turned them, until his back was to the miscreants catching the last crumbs of gossip by peering out at them. He lifted Beth up into his arms and she crumpled against his chest. He could feel her slow sobs as he stalked to the patio steps. He wouldn’t go back through the ballroom. He could only imagine what an ordeal the malicious social ostracisms must be to a young noble woman, because his Beth was very strong, and this was close to breaking her. She had stood up against him and she had dealt with the addiction of his blood, not crumbling.
Aye, his maiden was strong, so he took it on faith that what nearly happened to her was devastating. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass about society, and what they thought. He went about his business and did as he pleased. Church would bellow that wasn’t true. They did follow social rules, but nothing close to what a young, unattached lady of the ton must follow. Nay, he might not fully understand the feminine trials, but he did take them as truth.
He could bemoan his fate and he could say he couldn’t do it. It was dangerous for Beth. Her humanity would be at stake. Yet he’d already controlled the nearly insane desire for her pure blood. As vampires, he and his brothers had consciences and they would struggle, yet they would also overcome those urges they chose to. He liked to think that made him more man than vampire.
He looked down at Beth clinging to him as he carried her to his waiting carriage. This scheme was so irrational, yet if he faltered, she would be destroyed. He already knew from Christian that she had every piece of her possessions strapped to a carriage waiting in the drive of the Lancaster’s mansion. If there’d been any hope her plan to teach at a ladies school would work, he would have let her go.
Maybe.
The unconscious thou
ght startled him and he nearly stopped walking, thinking it would have meant never seeing her again. Perhaps, but after last night … never. He growled deep in this throat. All right, he wanted her. That didn’t just make it possible.
“Where are y-you taking me?” Beth’s voice cracked as she spoke into the jacket covering his chest. She sounded calmer … ragged, but calmer.
He hit the winding driveway with the crunch of his boots sounding on the gravel. The blazing lights from the entry way lit the way even as far out as they were. His carriage was at the end, turned to leave quickly. They would make Gretna Green.
“To my carriage,” he replied, keeping it simple. He knew once inside the carriage there would be more discussion than he cared for. Beth was beginning to shiver and he realized the night air was too cold for her light dress. She’d looked quite tempting in pink. When he’d first seen her in the ballroom, under the lights, he’d nearly stopped short, just taking in how lovely she’d looked. Their time together hadn’t given him the impression of her from head to toe before that moment. Some men might think her bottom a bit round or her breasts a bit too plump. They were fools.
“I don’t understand.” Beth’s soft voice was unsure and he assumed she meant why would they be going to his carriage. Why would the vampire save the maiden? Why would the maiden accept? “B-but I have my belongings in a … I have a driver, I cannot leave.”
“It’s been taken care of. Your belongings will be taken to Blacknall.”
Trinity felt Beth tense at his answer. Any reply she might make was forestalled by their arrival at his carriage.
Chapter Eighteen
Trinity looked at Beth on the opposite side of the carriage in the opposing corner. He’d given her his jacket to pull over her shoulders and he’d put a lap robe over her. At least she appeared warm enough.
Christian rode up top with the driver, while Church and Baptiste rode their stallions following the carriage. Every now and then, Church could be seen alongside the rolling carriage with his white hair flashing in the moonlight. Trinity thought dryly that Beth must feel as if she’d been kidnapped by a horde of vampires.