“I must get back,” Thomas voiced gutturally. “I forgot I had a meeting in Essex. We’ll talk later Gwendolyn,” he expressed hastily; “I wish to know more about Mary.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
It truly was a magnificent engagement celebration. Months of preparation must have been involved, Gwendolyn thought, passing the elegant table settings in the banquet room; mirrored tabletops, expensive linens, the finest imported china, gold-rimmed crystal with buckets of champagne everywhere. Extravagant pink Hydrangea centerpieces, sterling silver galore, stupid ninny, what was she thinking?
Gwendolyn was hesitant to attend, but after what happened that morning only lured her further in; she wanted to earn Thomas’ confidence again, secure that spark she managed to ignite and if that meant she had to swallow her pride and overlook the etiquette of their conflicting arrangement, then so be it.
Reaching the ballroom at last, Gwendolyn stood wavering, soaking in the stage before her. The men dressed mostly in courtly black, while the women wore attire of every coloration like a spattered rainbow across the parterre.
Unique in an octagon design, the ballroom was decorated with painted panels of warm brown and luxurious red velvet. More masculine in motif, busts of Roman heads of state protected every corner, while several bays of plush benches for intimate conversation divided the walls. Several opened French doors welcomed the guests to an outside veranda with towering columns covered in overgenerous draping foliage. Burning fire lamps were scattered about to help soothe the chilly air from the breezy nighttime wind.
Then the music…ah, the violins, the cello’s, the orchestra was heavenly, no doubt the finest musicians money could persuade away from contracted opera houses. Wealth was obviously demonstrated this evening, success Gwendolyn used to be a part of but on no account measured until this moment. It was never important to her in the past; she was content living in the country, but now living at Wilderbrand meant existing with Thomas and Gwendolyn wanted to be a part of it.
In the corner of her eye, she noted several bachelors springing to her entrance, each one of them patting the other on the shoulder. She knew she looked presentable; she planned on wearing the silver lustring she purchased the other day, only to open up her trunk of new dresses and found one that took her breath away. In all her haste, she had not remembered procuring it. It was an emerald hued silk gown commemorative of the Fifteenth Century; a fitted off the shoulder evening dress with a white brocaded underskirt, it incorporated flowing chemise slashed finestrella sleeves with hints of gold integrated throughout with ribbon that crisscrossed at the back to tie at the posterior. Wearing a radiant diamond studded necklace with dropping pear shaped emeralds she found in her mother’s jewelry box, her hair was finished up in an elegant coiffure with jeweled combs she also discovered which matched perfectly with the dazzling embroidered gemstones that dotted her attire.
Amy, who was standing alone, spotted Gwendolyn’s spectacular entry. “Why, Lady Hollinger, you look absolutely stunning. That emerald gown, with all the gold and exquisite handiwork, I have never seen its counterpart! Oh, and the necklace, such a fine display of opulence.”
Gwendolyn focused on the gap between Amy’s teeth as she smiled. Growing up, she would have considered Amy a good friend but she learned through Mrs. Hornebrook that Amy was Katrina’s close confidant since childhood, and was considered a foe, or at least a collaborator. “Thank you Amy, you look beautiful as well, but you do not have to call me that name, call me Gwendolyn,” she let go realizing that Amy had brightened up with her consent. “Tonight I am simply the cousin.”
Amy let go a wink, “Yes…the cousin, Henry had me swear to the secret details. A mystery I shall take with me when I depart.”
“Leaving so soon?”
“Not the party, but rather London; my last affair I must say,” Amy gushed despondently. “I will be leaving tomorrow to join my ailing aunt in Manchester.”
“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.”
“As am I,” Amy voiced, looking away, her brown eyes searching the ground. “I was hoping to be married by now, seeing it is my third season.”
“Third?” Gwendolyn asked, astonished. “But you are such a lovely girl, any hopefuls?”
“I am afraid the only gentleman who has approached me was fatefully compared to the only one who mattered.”
With saying that, Gwendolyn followed Amy’s heartrending stare. Lord Hale was in a corner speaking with a young lady who had been fanning herself from his obvious rogue attention. “Have you set your cap for Lord Hale?”
Amy turned red, flustered and grabbed at Gwendolyn’s arm, “Oh please, you mustn’t say anything. Why if Katrina knew, she would tease me till the end of days.”
Gwendolyn giggled and held her hand over Amy’s, “Your secret’s safe with me Amy, I mean you no harm.”
“Thank you Gwendolyn.”
“How long have you,” Gwendolyn stopped and eyed Lord Hale again, “Been infatuated with him?”
Amy began fanning herself, “Since I can remember, actually,” she cut short, trying not to look his way, “When I came out in my first season, Lord Hale chaperoned Katrina and Henry escorted me; all of us on familiar terms. We were a happy foursome and at times I thought the four of us would marry, until the Duke appeared.”
Gwendolyn’s mouth suddenly became very dry. A confidence, she thought. Another secret was about to be revealed. “Thomas”
“Yes,” Amy quietly exposed, “He was the most sought after bachelor in London and he showed interest in Katrina. She dropped her acquaintance with my brother and clapped eyes on the Duke. His Grace has the greater title than my brother, obviously, and well, Henry was so heartbroken, and I do not think he will ever get over her.”
Gwendolyn gulped and turned away. Thomas stole Katrina away from Henry? Unbelievable…looking around at all the dancing couples, she spotted Thomas with Katrina in the distance. He had not noticed her concentration of his locale, but Amy did.
“Does it hurt you to see him with another woman?”
Gwendolyn sharply turned around, that was very fearless of her to ask. She searched her eyes for compassion and found it in abundance. “Hurt me?”
“Yes, does it distress you to see him with her?” Amy asked again, squinting her eyes at Katrina’s boast of accolade. “Because if I were in your position and my marriage to an unequalled man was securely mine, I would not allow anyone to breach it.”
“May I have this dance, Lady Hollinger?” Henry asked, bowing down to her.
Gwendolyn blinked out of her incertitude and noted Henry’s composed manner. “Why certainly, Lord Barton.”
He winked at his sister who smiled up at him. Offering his elbow to Gwendolyn, she grabbed his arm and was proudly escorted to the line of couples already in precession.
Henry was not nearly as tall as Thomas or Devin, but he was striking just the same. There was also something else about him, engaging, that Gwendolyn could not help but stare. His poise and quiet manner gave him an air of intelligence mixed with anonymity. He was all businesslike the other day, but she did detect a sense of suffering. Unlike the other gentlemen here this evening, Henry was not a showy fellow. No, Henry Barton carried a burden so deep; it surfaced on his face when you were lucky enough to get close to him. He seemed uncomfortable by her inspection though, and purposely gazed away at nearby couples completing their waltz.
When Gwendolyn caught him finally looking her way, she expressed, “Are you enjoying yourself this evening Lord Barton?”
Henry grabbed hold of her soft shoulder as he spun her form around. “I am ecstatic if you must know.”
Gwendolyn thought that was a nice choice of words for one so obviously disturbed. “I can see that,” she quipped, “You are practically dancing on the ceiling.”
A smile escaped his lips, “That obvious?”
“Yes, do perk up Lord Barton.”
Henry smirked, giving Gwendolyn her answer and then voiced, “I am sur
prised to see you here.”
“Oh no—not you too,” Gwendolyn snorted, being twirled around more so than she was supposed to. She was surprised to see the apprehension shift.
Henry caught Gwendolyn’s backside and pulled her in intimately so that he could whisper in her ear. “Be careful,” he quietly voiced while drawing away.
Gwendolyn stared into his hazel eyes once again. His shyness disappeared and self-assurance emerged. He was not flirting with her, oh no, this was something else entirely. His ‘be careful’ had been anchored with some hidden meaning: Careful of whom…or of what? Gwendolyn expected she knew the resolve, why she was here in the first place and why she was one determined fool. To get close to Thomas, to still see if she could grab his attention away. That sole concentration of his, even from his own engagement party and fortune hungry fiancée. Was Henry here for the same selfish reasons? She would stake her life on it. Oh yes, they were two peas in the same cramped pod, Gwendolyn affirmed; under the same cruel hell. It must be very challenging to watch the person you love, fall in love with someone else and then marry them right in front of your very nose.
“Why are you worried?”
Henry shrugged his shoulders, “May I be frank?”
“If you feel you must.”
Henry grinned at her openness, “I have the distinct feeling we are both on the same mission.”
Gwendolyn guffawed and threw her head back. Bulls-eye! “How true.”
Henry gazed deep into her eyes. “I do not wish to see you hurt as well.”
Henry Barton shrieked loyalty, Gwendolyn thought, and then snickered, “A lost cause? You think we are glutton for punishment?”
Henry laughed aloud, more so than he should for other couples around them began eyeing the two of them together. “Oh, it has been predestined,” he expressed, bowing to her at the recession of the waltz. “You are quite humorous; I can see why he likes you.”
“Ah, a compliment, thank you Lord Barton.”
“You are something else.”
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, “And criticism as well, how fortunate for me.”
“Oh, please accept my apologies, my tongue sometimes,” Henry swallowed, regretting he opened his big fat mouth. “You are quite different.”
Gwendolyn laughed aloud bringing more attention to her. “What, pray tell, did everyone think I would be like?”
“Like Katrina, I suppose.”
“And we are that distinct?”
“Very much so, in fact,” Henry breathed, pulling her body into his again and whispering into her ear, “You are so dissimilar, I am starting to believe that Thomas will make the right decision.”
Gwendolyn languidly leaned away; his breath on her neck was making her tingle. Whispering back, she voiced, “And this makes you happy, why?”
Henry looked intently into her eyes, “Because I might gain from his failure to appreciate what he has.”
Gwendolyn said she was not going to attend, so Thomas did not bother to search for her presence. But most of his guests were pointing now, some of them even making outrageous observations. At what… or at whom? A couple out on the dance floor, he realized. Curiosity got the best of him and his eyes caught hold of the lustrous jade dress spinning around in the vastness; it was Henry and Gwendolyn…and then Gwendolyn alone, as he brought to focus the zenith to his ultimate doom. Gwendolyn bestowed vivacity, her copper hair set in bangles about her face, the dress exquisitely adapted to her form. Just as he imagined in doing so, he stood motionless in awe of the illusion before him; a panorama of a long ago hallucination rapidly appeased.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Walking outside in the moonlight, Gwendolyn suddenly stopped on a hill just above the ballroom and soaked in the captivating violins that echoed up the embankment. Nearby crickets added to the romantic music as she transfixed on the waltzing couples. His engagement party, she thought dejectedly. Gwendolyn didn’t know what to feel at this point, Amy only contributing to the assumption she held towards Katrina, that Thomas’ so-called fiancée was nothing more than a social climber. What about Thomas? She could not allow him to throw himself into another impulsive wreck. She had to warn him. Had to tell him somehow, but why? Why does she feel the need to rescue him? They were no longer close—he had another confidante, and why does everyone keep asking if it troubled her to see him with another woman? She was so drawn to him and was so afraid of what to feel…but yes, yes! It did bother her. She longed to be by his side, moped around because she could not.
Her gaze halted at the sight of Thomas now dancing with Katrina; him, in his fancy togs, her, in a picturesque ball gown of light pink spinning in motion. Thomas looked so handsome gazing down at her with affection, clearly appreciating what he had. A familiar pang pierced through her heart at that moment. A shooting pain every time she thought about them together. Were they compatible? Does she make him laugh? She wondered what ensued within their first conversation, what they speak about now, and what he felt when he kissed her. They do kiss…he’s had to have kissed her, probably even…oh God, Gwendolyn thought while closing her eyes feeling that proverbial ache inside her heart, and they probably do it often…A passionate man like Thomas would not want to wait for his wedding night and would not pause to seduce his fiancée. Katrina said as much, that she and him…that, they…oh God! She had to stop imagining them both together!
A crunch of leaves at the rear startled Gwendolyn. Straining to see in the darkness she fathomed Lord Hale heading towards the tree she rested upon.
“There you are Lady Hollinger, why are you hiding out here in the dark?”
“With so much to comprehend Lord Hale, I felt the need for some fresh air. Why are you here?”
“Because you are,” he voiced huskily.
Gwendolyn’s pulse began to race. That was quite scandalous. The moon was also quite dangerous that evening as Gwendolyn could not help but stare into his azure eyes dancing in the moonlight. Gad, he was handsome! Dirty blonde hair combed flawlessly around his collar, a sporty physique as well as fashionable, the type of man you just couldn’t help but stare at for his sheer symmetry. Devin Hale was to be avoided at all costs. Katrina said that Lord Hale and Thomas had been close friends for years now; she could only imagine the kinds of mischief the best friends let loose on London. Diverse from Thomas in every way, Devin was sunbeams across the horizon, compared to Thomas’ alluring obscurity and Gwendolyn felt a little odd feeling so envious of their close friendship. “You like to shock me.”
He laughed and gazed over at the windows beyond. “No, just my nature, I guess. I like to see how far I can push a person.”
Gwendolyn snorted, “And such candor.”
“May I have the pleasure of a dance, Lady Hollinger?” “A postponement, Lord Hale?”
“Call me Devin.”
“Only if you call me Gwendolyn.”
Devin let go a roguish grin, “Unquestionably.”
“Would you mind accompany me on a stroll?”
Devin extended out his arm as Gwendolyn gently seized it. She felt comfortable with him for some reason and felt her body more relaxed.
“I could not help but notice you are without your companion,” he teased, trying to meet her stride. “No one has informed you of my disreputable reputation?”
Gwendolyn smiled inwardly, “You are trying to distress me again, Devin. Unlucky for me, Phyllis likes to drink her spirits alone and sleeps ‘til sunrise.”
“How promising for me,” Devin smiled devilishly.
“Devin, you simply must cease and desist.”
“Why?”
Dare To Love Page 12