The Tigresse and the Raven (The Friendship Series Book 1)

by Julia Donner

  Sir Harry asked, “And the promise involved us?”

  “Indeed. I vowed to get all of us here this evening. Are your names on the dance cards?”

  They assured him that they filled innumerable dance card spaces with as many wallflower names as possible. Ravenswold nodded, satisfied.

  His friends followed Rave inside. The quartette stood by the heavily draped glass doors as if needing the availability of a handy escape route, but Rave was the only one of them truly wishing to be elsewhere. His three companions were ogling the pretty females in the ballroom, most especially their briefly exposed ankles under swishing hems.

  “God’s blood!” Freddy sputtered.

  An innocent sitting nearby overheard the curse and slipped into a swoon. Sadly, no one took notice of her maidenly efforts. Everyone’s attention stayed fixed on the pair standing under the arched entrance to the ballroom. The din in the ballroom subsided to an expectant hush. The musicians unknowingly accentuated the quiet by stopping to tune up for a set of country dances.

  Asterly jabbed Freddy in the ribs with his elbow. “Curb your blasted tongue, Bates!”

  Freddy reverently whispered, “But it’s La Tigresse!”

  Sir Harry tittered and playfully whacked Freddy’s arm with his fan. “Dearest Freddy, you must beg a dance with that one. Unfortunate—that late growth spurt of yours. Only think on the view you would’ve had! What a lovely prospect. Or should I say it in the plural…prospects? I do wish someone would marry her so that I could have a chance with them. I mean…her.”

  Asterly groaned. “Harry, you’re such a rotter.”

  The unnatural silence in the ballroom prompted Rave to lift his attention from a study of the polished parquet floor. When milling dancers moved, he saw two women talking to Lindy. His gaze narrowed and focused on a capped head of coppery hair.

  The crowd belatedly collected their manners and reluctantly shifted their avid stares away from the ladies chatting under the arched doorway. For the first few moments, all attention had been focused on Cassandra and the somewhat shorter Lady Duncan, who wore a hideous yellow turban that sprouted two orange feathers. The sight of either lady was enough to make eyes bulge.

  Rave kept his grin inside as he noticed the ladies of the ton struggling to hide their chagrin. Lindy had performed a masterstroke by having Cassandra resurface at her soirée, the very same event that boasted the attendance of all four of the Eligibles.

  His stare followed Cassandra, who trailed her aunt. He patiently watched them greet old friends and make new acquaintances. Lindy deposited them amid a cloister of ferocious matrons and directed a meaningful glance his way.

  His territorial alarm now on full alert, Rave became aware of Asterly’s unwavering regard. His best friend sharply nudged his twin brother, who in turn, poked Freddy in the arm with the tip of his fan.

  Asterly gleefully whispered to Harry and Freddy, “How now? Is the invincible Rave finally smitten?”

  Freddy laughed and punched Rave’s arm. “Where is the man who made us all vow to never wed before forty? And who swore he’d never be tied to any twittering ninny hammer? Well, I suppose that we could scarcely designate La Tigresse as such, but Rave, must you humiliate us by wearing it on your sleeve? We have our reputations to uphold. That lustful expression will ruin us!”

  Rave demanded, “What did you call her? La Tigresse?”

  Asterly said, “Your seclusion has reaped you well-deserved ignorance. She is Cassandra Seyton, previously known in all the clubs as La Tigresse. She disappeared some months ago after a betrothal catastrophe with a Cit. Went North to wait for the scandal to cool, I imagine.”

  Sir Harry thoughtfully tapped his folded fan against his chin. “There must be something monstrously wrong with the men up there, not to have attached her interest.”

  Asterly snorted. “What men? The ones who haven’t answered the call to enlist have been transported out with the clearances. I doubt there’s an eligible male left north of the Lowlands. Her uncle’s estate is on the Tayside. Rob Roy country, you know.”

  Rave pinned Asterly with a stare. “You seem to know a great deal about her.”

  Asterly shook his head. “If you spent any time in town you’d know the same.”

  Rave studied the smug expressions that wreathed his friends’ faces. “Precisely, what does everyone know that I don’t?”

  “The aunt,” Asterly said, cutting off the others, “is Lady Duncan of the Devonshire Seytons and sister to La Tigresse’s mother. Lady Duncan was married off quite young to a fanatical Highlander to fatten the family purse—a measure so often employed by the Seytons that it’s become a family tradition.”

  “Although it’s terribly vulgar to mention,” Sir Harry interrupted, his quizzing glass relentlessly trained on their subject, “the emerald choker around that exquisite neck and at wrist are the last vestige of the Seyton inheritance. Such as it was. The parents squandered everything. It’s rumored that they even managed to break the entail on the Devonshire manse. Have you ever seen a more magnificent figure on a female?”

  Asterly hissed at his brother. “Harry, withdraw your tongue and stop blatantly drooling as if she were a particularly meaty bone.”

  Asterly turned back to Ravenswold. “You were in mourning at the time and couldn’t have heard that Miss Seyton was briefly betrothed to a Cit. Even though she possesses the fortitude to resist such a match, she didn’t. For some unaccountable reason, she bowed to the will of her parents.”

  Rave murmured, “Then why La Tigresse?”

  Freddy barked a caustic laugh and Asterly hushed him with a sharp glance. “It happened during her come-out. She dumped a vase of tiger lilies over the head of an ardent priest. He had the gall to tell her that all redheads are inherently immoral. In the next breath, he proposed—in order to save her from everlasting sin, you see.”

  Ravenswold grinned. “Ah, valiant, is she?”

  Asterly stared. “Rave, never have I seen lechery blot your righteous countenance! Just what are you plotting at?”

  Rave’s only answer was the expansion of his suggestive leer.

  “Dare we tell him, my friends,” Freddy blithely asked, smug with a secret.

  Rave scowled at Freddy. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Sir Harry cut off Freddy by blurting, “The aunt! He means Lady Duncan.”

  Freddy shared a speaking glance with Sir Harry. “Yes, the aunt is quite formidable.”

  Sir Harry laughed and tapped Rave’s arm with his quizzing glass. “If you think the aunt is formidable, wait ‘til you meet that she-cat! Have you ever attempted to mount a tigress?”

  Sir Harry was silenced by Rave’s response. He speared each of his friends with a glacial stare. The battle lines had been drawn, and in future, none of them would dare to nudge a toe over the line into his territory.

  Ravenswold repeated the exact words he used to Lindy in the park when he said, more to himself than to his friends, “I must have an introduction.”

  “She has no desire to wed,” Asterly warned, “and a very poor opinion of our sex. I should tell you that these two had a hand in her disgust with our gender.”

  Asterly shot a venomous glance at his twin. “Harry enticed her out onto a moonlit balcony the first week of her come-out. When he acted on a violent attraction to her person, she pushed him off it, dislocating his shoulder.”

  Rave directed an accusing glare at Harry. “You told me that you suffered a tumble taking a green hunter over rough ground.”

  Sir Harry attempted to atone with a sheepish shrug, and Asterly continued, “You have yet to hear about our fearsome Bantam. He coaxed our innocent down a notorious Vauxhall path and nearly had his fingers wrenched off when he took flagrant liberties. She had to knock him down first. Then she happily resorted to teaching the offending member a lesson by applying the sole of her slipper. She does have a temper, but thoughtful girl that she is, she went after his left hand. Did she not, Freddy?”

&
nbsp; “And I must add that she showed absolutely no remorse for ruining my coat and glove,” Freddy answered. “Before she left, she redeemed herself and won my heart by confessing that she had too much respect for my shooting to risk permanent damage to my good hand.”

  Aware of his friends’ anticipatory wonder, Rave murmured, “Interesting. Then who will screw his courage to the sticking place and join me to face the formidable Miss Seyton and her aunt? Or are you all too faint of heart?”

  Before any of them could answer, Rave was on his way. Since Cassandra stood a head taller than the other women in the ballroom, she was easy enough to find.

  Rave leisurely worked his way around the edge of the dance floor. He pretended mild interest in the intricate patterns of the dancers, while bowing to old acquaintances.

  Females posed and peeked over their fans, hoping to attract his attention or that of the three men in his wake. Rave noted that his friends also ignored the posturing females and kept their attention fixed on the leader of their pack. As they neared the cluster of matrons, he noticed the speaking glances his friends exchanged. Two were speculative. Worry clouded the third.

  Chapter 14

  Cassandra stood slightly turned away from her aunt, who sat enthroned on a Chinese Chippendale chair, conversing with the chaperones. She’d already suffered through numerous sugary inquiries and worked diligently to behave with grace and courtesy. Even though her supply of patience hovered on the edge of depletion, she renewed her determination to get through this evening with her pride intact.

  To relieve her anxiety and discourage others from asking prying questions, she pretended to look out the window near her aunt’s chair and down on the carriage-clogged street. Acutely aware of all that was being said, she used the window’s reflection to view what went on behind her back.

  A strange exhilaration rippled over her flesh when she heard a deep, rumbling voice address her aunt. A memory flashed—a rainy morning and the close confinement under a curricle with its bonnet up. Regret for what might have been was replaced with a flutter of something like excitement. She moved slightly to gain a better view in the window glass.

  The deep voice said, “Lady Duncan, you may not recall—”

  “Ravenswold, you great blockhead, certainly I remember you!”

  Cassandra winced at her aunt’s reply. She’d purposely raised her carrying voice in order to attract the interest of those nearby. She succeeded in turning every head in the room. The earl bowed. “It has been some years since we were last well met, ma’am. It is an honor and a pleasure to see you once again and to note that you have scarcely changed in the interim.”

  “Hah! I expect you think I should believe such nonsense. You are the replica of your father, the confounded old hermit. Who would’ve believed that a man of his proclivities would turn into a recluse. I was quite put out with him when he wouldn’t allow dear Felicia to come to visit me at Loch Earn. You were but a lad the last I saw of you. I must say, the resemblance to your father can only be designated as marvelous.”

  “You do me too much honor, ma’am.”

  “Yes, he was a fine looking sort. I would’ve had him myself if my parents had thought him rich enough. But then, I am well satisfied with Duncan. Is your sister in town?”

  “She is lying-in. Her third child. Perhaps she will be sufficiently restored to enjoy the delights of the next Season.”

  “You might send her my regards, not that she deserves my attention or compliments. I don’t hold with fashionable illnesses and cannot tolerate vapors and copious weeping for sympathy. Quite the outside of enough, all this unnecessary fainting and pretended delicacy. I don’t signify such silly artifices with recognition.”

  “I shall convey your sentiments to Augusta and remind her not to make such a to-do about bringing forth a child. Do you think it might be wise to suggest to her husband that downing four bottles of wine during the process is a sign of excessive self-indulgence?”

  Cassandra coughed to cover a laugh. In the next instant, she felt the heat of his attention boring into the center of her back as keenly as she recalled his strong profile. What she hadn’t remembered was the velvety sensuality of his low voice. She resisted the urge to turn completely around.

  Lady Duncan continued, “You are indeed correct. Four bottles is entirely excessive. I always took you for a sound thinking individual. And how do you do, Ravenswold?”

  “I am quite well, thank you.”

  “So I see. You were always a sturdy child. Felicia was justly proud of her children’s unfailing health.”

  “Indeed. A blessing for which we give daily thanks.”

  “I seem to recollect that you were inordinately fond of my dear Felicia. She used to say to me that you were the most perfectly behaved boy in the world, as long as one did not call you by her pet name for you.”

  “I detest it!” he snapped, and then more calmly, “but you are quite correct, ma’am.”

  “I am often correct, dear boy. I should like to introduce you to someone.”

  Absorbed in eavesdropping, Cassandra flinched when Lady Duncan whacked her arm with a fan.

  “Cassandra! I detest you giving me your back. Why do you lurk behind my chair, you silly gel? Have you no manners? Look you here! I have someone to make known to you.”

  Cassandra inhaled a slow breath and turned away from the window, just as Asterly, Bates and Sir Harry arrived. They all crowded closer to escape the activity on the dance floor.

  Accustomed to her unusual height, Cassandra noticed Freddy Bates, of average height, first. She raised her eyes slightly above eye level and looked at Asterly, and beside him, his outrageous and gorgeous twin, Sir Harry. She next encountered a vast expanse of cream and gold striped waistcoat. Her eyes traveled upward over the knotted neckcloth, a cleft chin, and settled on a wide, neat mouth. She at last connected with hazel eyes that widened when they locked with hers.

  Cassandra had known Ravenswold was a large man from sitting next to him in the curricle, but she hadn’t realized how tall he would be standing up. For the first time in her life, her head tilted up at a man. A blush scorched her cheeks and neck when he dropped his gaze from her cap to the delicate necklace, a single choker of matched emeralds. She wondered if he could see the pulsing of her rapidly beating heart, but his attention abruptly returned to her impersonal stare.

  His gaze, while equally impersonal, felt uncomfortably intense. Preoccupied, she stopped herself in time from blurting that eyelashes as long as his had no business belonging to a man.

  The earl’s friends were looking at her strangely, as if she were a cannon about to go off. Her aunt chuckled, an odd and entirely alien noise that sounded like the combination of wheezy chortle and creaky hinge.

  Lady Duncan jabbed Cassandra in the ribs with the point of her fan, and Cassandra noticed Ravenswold’s annoyance. He appeared on the verge of yanking the weapon from her aunt’s purple-gloved hand. Gratified by his protective response, Cassandra savored a surge of confidence. She could and would hide her dangerous connection to Asterly, who showed no sign of uneasiness.

  Her aunt crowed, “What have you to say for yourself, my midget? Dismayed that you do not tower over all?”

  “You are being deliberately nonsensical, Aunt Jane.”

  “Hah! Look you here, gel. I have the pleasure to introduce to you Lord Ravenswold. And these hangers-on are no doubt of his circle. My niece, gentlemen, Cassandra Seyton. Miss Cassandra Seyton!”

  Ravenswold bowed. “Your servant, Miss Seyton.”

  Cassandra had the barest glimpse of chestnut waves on the top of his head and checked an almost uncontrollable urge to glide her fingers through the luxurious thatch.

  Ravenswold straightened up and turned slightly to his companions. “I have the honor of making known to you Lord Asterly, and his brother, Sir Harry Collyns. And this is Mr. Alfred Bates.”

  While her aunt scrutinized the Eligibles through her quizzing glass, Cassandra acknowledged the i
ntroduction with a slight curtsey and brief smile. “I am well acquainted with the famous Eligibles, Lord Ravenswold. Asterly, it has been some time, has it not?”

  She extended her gloved hand to Asterly, while she coolly inquired of the other two, “Sir Harry, how is your shoulder? Mr. Bates, I trust your hand is improved?”

  Something compelled her to return her gaze to Ravenswold, who stared at her, not attending to the conversation. She smiled encouragingly, and he dazedly asked, “Miss Seyton, would you care to stand up with me for the next set?”

  Sir Harry and Freddy smothered gasps and laughter, while Asterly rolled his eyes heavenward. Cassandra smirked at them in the way a superior adult would look upon naughty boys who’d pulled a silly prank.

  Lady Duncan unabashedly grinned. “Poor Ravenswold. With friends such as these, you scarcely need enemies!”

  Sir Harry and Freddy tried to look contrite when Ravenswold sent a glare that promised retribution. “Did I call them friends? I have recently consigned them to the ranks of my acquaintances. Perhaps you’d be good enough to tell me, Lady Duncan, what folly I have committed by merely requesting a dance?”

  “My niece has encountered sadly disappointing experiences on the dance floor, especially with the bucks. She will not be standing up with anyone this evening.”

  Cassandra relaxed, grateful and relieved her aunt didn’t explain that her disinclination for dancing often had to do with the proximity of her partner’s viewpoint, which tended to end up at eye level with her bosom. To exclude shorter gentlemen would only serve to hurt feelings and draw more attention to an embarrassing situation.

  Ravenswold said, “Lady Duncan, Miss Seyton, please accept my apology if I have offended in some way.”

  Lady Duncan replied, “Nonsense, Ravenswold. I trust that you could be in no way offensive and will confide that my niece rarely condescends to dance. If she participates at all, it is with those too aged and decrepit to take advantage.”

  Ravenswold colored up. “You imply that I would take impolite advantage, ma’am?”