A Dance of Manners

by Cynthia Breeding, Kristi Ahlers, Erin E. M. Hatton

  “Lady Megara appears quite popular,” he said. When he turned, the aunt nodded and picked up her needlework.

  “My niece is popular wherever she goes. It is just getting her to go that is the very devil.” She looked at him. “She is stubborn and thinks she knows best. Well, I shall allow she's gifted.”

  Wickerdun opened his mouth to reply, but had no idea what to say. “She is a quick wit.” The aunt gave a small laugh in reply.

  “How do you like it?” she asked as she thrust her needlework toward him.

  He recognized Ricco, standing in the wood, his head held high. How on earth did the woman keep the horn attached? Surely the horse would try to rub it off? A question for another time.

  Wickerdun pursed his lips and nodded. “You are most gifted, my lady. The shades of blue most artistically stitched.”

  The aunt smiled and pressed the cloth against her lap. “It is Ricco. I understand you saw him in the wood one day.”

  He gripped the chair arms and nodded.

  “What did you think?”

  His gaze swung to Megara. He was next! Would the aunt live with them after they wed? He turned to her. “Well, I was surprised by the shagginess, I must confess. And the blue color.” He shifted slightly when she didn't reply, but cocked her head to study him. “I hope I have not offended you.”

  Her gaze sharpened with that. “You are nothing like your father, boy. You can be grateful for that.” She glanced toward Megara, then back at him. “My niece is awaiting your company.”

  * * * *

  When William approached Megara, his colors were swirling. “Has conversing with my aunt confounded you? She likes to do that, you know.” She patted the chair next to her. “Would you care for—”

  “Why have I not met you before?” he asked as he sat.

  Poor William. Megara smiled in amusement at his shocked expression.

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “That is not what I meant to say.”

  “Well, it is a good question. I could ask the same of you.”

  He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it.

  “My lord, perhaps it was not the right time for us to meet. Perhaps if we had met years ago, we would not have appreciated the other as the unique person they are.” She shrugged. “Everything in its own time.”

  “But I have attended each Season for years. I find it most—”

  “Oh, but this is my first Season, my lord.” He looked at her blankly. “You see, I never wanted a Season, for I knew it would be pointless, since the man I would marry would not be present.” She leaned forward when he winced. “Are you in pain, my lord?”

  “No. Please go on.”

  “Meg, my love, time to say goodbye to Wickerdun,” her aunt interrupted. “You must rest and prepare for tonight's entertainments.”

  Wickerdun rose at the woman's words, bade his farewell and headed outside. Out in the yard, he placed his hat firmly on his head, barely noting the singing wood nymphs. He looked back at the house. What the devil happened in there? He'd meant to propose to her. And what the devil did she mean her future husband hadn't been present in London all those prior Seasons before? How could she know that? Did that mean she knows her future husband is now present? The devil!

  * * * *

  Later that evening, William struggled to converse with Megara during the dance. He should have chosen a waltz when he marked her dance card.

  “Why the ... why did you not tell me who you were?”

  Her eyes widened before crinkling in silent laughter. He gritted his teeth when the movement of the dance called her away.

  “I did,” she replied as soon as she returned, clapping her hands against his and revolving.

  “No, you did not. I had no idea you were Lady Megara Ivers.” He growled when the dance steps separated them.

  “Would that have made a difference?” she asked upon her reappearance. “Would you have spoken with such honesty if you thought me a peeress instead of a country girl?”

  “Ha! I thought you some enchanted creature, not a farm girl.” He caught himself from stumbling when she smiled at him.

  “You thought I was an enchanted creature? How sweetly expressed.”

  He watched in resignation as she skipped away to her new partner. His new partner's determined efforts to converse foiled his plan to prepare for Lady Megara's return.

  “I thought our conversations and time together were enchanting as well,” she said as soon as she returned. “If I may be so bold as to say such a thing.”

  “That is exactly my point! The fact that I...” When she curtsied, he realized the dance was ended. “We need to talk, Lady Megara.” His stomach sank when she shook her head and showed him her filled dance card. “What about supper? Perhaps we—”

  “You should have marked the supper dance, Wickerdun. Is it not silly the ton believes a man cannot dance more than twice with a woman? Although I believe we could converse as you escort me back to my aunt.”

  Wickerdun ran his hands through his hair. “Tomorrow then. We shall ride together in the park.”

  * * * *

  “Don't believe I have ever seen Wickerdun in such a state,” Spode said. He grinned at his wife and brother-in-law. “Good to see the man falling so hard.”

  “Who is falling?” Lady Emily asked as she and Geoffrey, Wickerdun's brother, arrived.

  “Wickerdun.”

  The new arrivals turned to see Wickerdun staring into the crowd, his expression one of bewilderment. “But who...?”

  “Lady Megara Ivers,” Ardmoor said. “The Earl of Blackhyrst's estate borders mine. We are distantly related. They met when he came to visit me.”

  Lady Emily and Geoffrey looked at one another, then at Ardmoor. “What is she like?” Lady Emily asked.

  “Is it wise for my brother to form an attachment at this time?” Geoffrey asked.

  “Lady Megara is a wonderful woman, perfect for Wickerdun,” Maddy assured her sister-in-law.

  “In truth, she is just what he needs,” Ardmoor said. “Surely you have noted the change in him since his arrival back in London? All due to Lady Megara.”

  “I have noted his lack of concentration and shortness of temper,” Geoffrey replied. “All due to that woman, you say?”

  “That woman,” Ardmoor said, “has brought your brother to life. Before, the man was so unfailingly pleasant, one wondered if, should he annoy one sufficiently that one might have no choice but plant him a facer to see if he would react, he would apologize for having his nose in the way of your fist!”

  * * * *

  “The thing is, Lady Megara,” Wickerdun said as he slowed his curricle, “I did not know who you were when we talked ... in the enchanted wood. I believe I thought you were some faery-type creature.”

  “Oh, William!” She covered her mouth and laughed. “Forgive me, we are no longer in the country. Is that why you looked so shocked the other night?”

  “Yes, well, as I was saying, if I had known you were a lady rather than the faery I believed, I never would have—”

  “Wickerdun, forgive me, but if you are honest with yourself, you knew I was no faery creature. That you did not realize I was Lady Megara Ivers I can believe. But really, how many faeries of your acquaintance wear half boots? Gowns? Hats?”

  Wickerdun frowned. Yes, she had worn normal clothes. Old clothes, though. Had he always known she was human?

  Megara stared at William as he considered her words. “You have dark colors hovering close to your chest.”

  Whatever did she mean? “Dark colors?”

  “Colors change with your mood. For instance, the other night, your colors lightened and swirled about you. You felt happiness instead of the anger and betrayal I first saw in the woods.”

  “So you are saying my mood today is dark?”

  She nodded, as if what she said made perfect sense. “You brood about things that cannot be helped.”

  In truth, he was brooding, and her perceptio
n unnerved him. He pulled the curricle out of the park traffic and stopped.

  She smiled in anticipation. “Are we going to walk the paths?”

  “No, I ... Lady Megara, I apologize for my behavior in the wood. I compromised your honor.”

  “Did you? May I ask when?”

  “In the wood, when I removed my clothing.”

  Megara turned to meet his gaze. “Although you may be overcome with remorse, I must confess I am puzzled by such emotion. Yes, you removed your coat, your waistcoat, your stockings and your boots. We were in the country, where such occurrences do happen. Many things are done in the country that are considered improper in town. So!” She grinned at him. “If that is why you have been so glum, be done with it!” She leaned close and wiggled her brows. “Had you ever visited your country estates, you might have known that.” She frowned when he pressed his lips together.

  “Lady Megara, I feel honor bound to—”

  “Wickerdun,” Megara broke in, “if you are going to propose to me, I beg you reconsider. Not that I am averse to such a proposal, mind you. However, if you propose merely because you believe you compromised my honor, and your sense of decency commands you act thusly, then you insult me. I would then become quite cross.”

  She would be cross if he asked for her hand in marriage? He looked ahead in silence, for how should he respond? Did she or didn't she welcome his proposal?

  “Quite a conundrum for a gentleman, is it not?” she said.

  * * * *

  Wickerdun's gaze fastened on Megara twirling gracefully to a waltz. Seeing her in the arms of another man made his gut clench, his hands itch to fell the man with a hard blow. No, he'd like to pummel the man into the ground, and then drag Megara off to ... What the devil was wrong with him? He'd never had such violence of feeling, certainly never concerning a woman. What had she done to him? Three days he'd brooded over her reply. He didn't know what she wanted. Hadn't she hinted she'd welcome his proposal? Yet said she'd be cross if he asked for her hand in marriage. What did the reason matter? They would be wed, wouldn't they? He rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't continue like this. He rued the day he met her, yet he blessed the day he first saw her. The next dance was his. He made a bee-line for her aunt.

  For the first two minutes of the waltz, Wickerdun remained silent, content to hold Megara, allowing his mind to wander where he knew they shouldn't, not when the evidence of his thoughts would be visible. His carnal thoughts of lust, although strongly felt, were but part of a belief he was holding the other part of himself; that holding her made him complete.

  What a concept. He should flee, get as far away from Lady Megara Ivers as possible. Except he couldn't. He wanted her as his wife, but without the messy emotional part she would be sure to bring along. Of course, that was assuming she'd accept him. Yet, Ardmoor insisted she would. Which reminded him of his decision.

  “Lady Megara,” he began softly, “may I ask if the man you believe you shall marry is in London?” When she looked up at him, her eyes were softly focused, as if she'd just awakened. It was all he could do to refrain from pulling her into a crushing embrace.

  “Not always,” she replied.

  Wickerdun clenched his jaw and pulled her tighter. Well, that meant it wasn't he. He hadn't left London. Didn't plan to.

  “Sometimes I glimpse him, before he retreats.”

  Wickerdun frowned. What the devil? “He retreats? I do not understand.”

  “I think you do,” she said.

  Wickerdun looked down at her face, focusing on her lips. “Come with me.” He escorted her off the dance floor. The balcony doors beckoned, much closer than skirting around the dance floor and being stopped for mindless chatter. The balcony would be dark, too.

  Wickerdun shook his head. He'd never led a woman onto a darkened balcony. What did she do to him? “You make me forget myself.”

  “I—”

  His lips touched Megara's. Softly, gently. He wanted to drag her to the ground, have his way with her, make her his. A heretofore-unheard part of him reared his shaggy head and said that was exactly what he should do, have done with all the pretty pussy-footing around, grab the mate of his choice, and run. He groaned, refusing to listen, and kept kissing Megara. There was a hazily formed hope she might like kissing him so much she'd agree to marry him.

  * * * *

  Surely the only reason Megara hadn't melted into a heated pool at William's feet was because he was holding her so tightly. Why hadn't anyone told her how wonderful kissing was? Then he pulled away and spoke to her.

  “Marry me, Lady Megara.”

  She blinked and grabbed onto his arms for support. Yes, she wanted to marry him. She smiled, opened her mouth to say yes, but instead took a woozy step back. “Has your reason changed?”

  “What? My reason?” He looked at her blankly. “I want you as my wife. Is that not reason enough?”

  Megara frowned and took another step away from him, his presence interfering with her ability to think clearly. “With anyone else, yes. But I want you to race with me, William, not trot through our married life. Are you prepared to race with me?” Even though he frowned as if he didn't understand, Megara wasn't fooled. “You must accept who you are William, and who I am. Accept that you determine your destiny, that your married life does not have to mirror that of your parents.”

  “I realize that!” he snapped. He took a step closer. “Will you or will you not accept my proposal of marriage?”

  “Where would we reside?” Her heart fell when he looked away.

  “London, of course. I take my duties in parliament seriously.”

  “Which is laudable. But where would we live when parliament is not in session?” She tried to catch his gaze.

  “I have numerous estates. You may take your pick. Does that answer suffice?”

  She shook her head. “Fairhills, William. If you want to race, if you want me to marry you, you need to return to Fairhills.” Her heart sank further at his expression.

  “We had best return,” he said, “before any gossip is started.”

  * * * *

  “You need not do this,” Geoffrey said, looking up from the deed gifted to him. “Really, I have done well for myself, for my children. You need not—”

  “Allow me this small thing, Geoffrey,” Wickerdun said. “I cannot touch the entailed properties—and Father made sure nearly all were entailed. He hated the fact you married Lady Laurel, you know. He wanted to punish you for that. Went out of his way to ensure you would never be accepted by society, let alone live in the bosom of your family. That is why I want you to have this property.” He smiled. “Look closely at the deed.” Wickerdun's smile increased when his brother looked up with a grin.

  “So you managed to acquire the property Father never could? Are you sure? This property edges into the middle of Fairhills. Well, of course you know that. But do you not...?”

  “I cannot think of a better use for the property, Geoffrey. We were estranged for too long. It would please me to know you and your family were near.” Wickerdun's heart raced and stomach turned at the thought of visiting Fairhills. To live there again.

  His brother smiled at him. “Emily will be pleased, Wickerdun. So am I. Yes, I accept your wedding present, brother. May our families grow large and strong and happy once again.”

  Wickerdun shook his head, aware his brother had spoken. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I asked when we might expect to see an announcement in The Times concerning you and Lady Megara? Ardmoor says had he not been on the lookout the other night, you and the lady in question would have been facing a scandal. Something about being on a darkened balcony for an extended amount of time.”

  Wickerdun leaned back and pursed his lips. He wasn't sure if he wanted to thank Ardmoor or not. He and Megara might now be engaged. Which told him volumes about his current mental state; never would he consider coercing a woman into marriage with threat of scandal. Of course, this was Megara, so the
coercing would doubtless fail in any case.

  “For what it is worth, I approve your choice. She will keep you on your toes, too. Just what you need.”

  Wickerdun grunted. “Yes, she will. Provided she ever accepts my proposal of marriage.”

  * * * *

  “Isn't going back to his home what you wanted him to do?” Maddy asked.

  “I thought we might go together,” Megara answered. “I am not sure he will be able to put all the pieces together by himself. If he cannot, he will be frustrated and remain blind to what went on, even more entrenched in his beliefs and attitudes. He will trot forever.”

  “I do not think you give Wickerdun enough credit, Meg.”

  “His mother was a Bruin. Their wild blood ranks near the Ivers.” She leaned closer. “His father's family had a mixture of wild blood as well. Unfortunately, his father could not handle the wildness, and became one of those people driven to rages by his inner demons. The man eventually became a twisted, vicious, vengeful soul. William, his brother Geoffrey, and their two sisters have a generous and possibly unstable mixture of old, wild blood. As a child and young boy, William witnessed his father slowly destroy his mother, not by physical force, but by accusations, fits of rage, and the insidious, always present but unexpressed overpowering emotions of shame and fear because she was different. William felt it. William felt what his father felt, felt what it was doing to his mother. The boy William learned his lesson; do not express what comes naturally, or you will be beaten into the ground.”

  “So that is why Wickerdun always chose to spend his holidays with my husband's family,” Maddy said. “That explains so much about him. Hmmm, it also explains why Geoffrey is drawn to women with the wild blood. First my sister Laurel, and now Emily.”

  Megara nodded in agreement. “The thing is, William does not remember all of this.” Megara's face grew warm at Maddy's raised brows. “Do not look at me like that, Maddy. I admit I should not have done it, but I peeked a bit. However only when a thought came out to me. Naturally, I had to follow the trail. The man has carefully tucked away early memories of his gifts, as well as those of his mother. He remembers her as a sweet, but weak and sickly woman.” Megara sighed. “I am not sure how he will handle his visit to where it all began. I do wish he had thought to invite me along as well.”