by Amelia Grey
Mirabella didn’t understand the thrilling sensations that had washed over her when the gentleman had smiled at her, when he had touched her hand and when he had looked deeply into her eyes while questioning her about why she was out alone. She would keep those memories for herself and remember how he talked, how he looked, how he smelled, and how he tasted when her lips touched his skin.
“I’m sure the lateness of the hour didn’t bother Archer. He’s always been something of a night owl.”
He placed one finger under her chin. “Tell me. Are you doing all right without Helen in the house?”
“Oh, yes, Papa. I miss her, of course, but I understand why she needed to get away to the country during the Season. I miss Sarah most of all.”
“It was absolutely wretched what happened to the poor girl. Dying in her sleep like that while still so young.” Her father paused and cupped Mirabella’s cheek. “I know how desperately Helen wanted to make a match for her ward and see her happily wed. But with her being so plain, and that problem with her eye, it was almost an impossible task from the beginning.”
Mirabella’s heart grew heavy. Sarah’s appearance belied the sweet, devoted person she was inside. Anger and frustration coiled tightly inside Mirabella, remembering how helpless she’d felt when she’d been told of Sarah’s death. If only Sarah had come and talked to her and told her what had happened. Mirabella could have helped her.
In her diary, Sarah had written she was afraid Mirabella’s father would throw her out on the street, so she couldn’t bring shame to his house if he learned she was with child. Mirabella would have never let her father do that to Sarah. She could have gone to their home in Kent to have her baby, and lived there with her child.
Mirabella’s thoughts drifted to the past, to when she was ten and heartbroken because her mother had died of consumption. Her father had asked his maiden sister, Helen, and her ward, Sarah, to come live with them. Sarah was older than Mirabella and had a problem with one of her eyes. The lid drooped to the point of covering her eye. But that didn’t keep Sarah from being a wonderful person. Mirabella loved her and always treated her like a sister.
Sarah made her debut two years before Mirabella, but after five London Seasons not one young man had shown an interest in making a match with her. Sarah was doomed to spinsterhood. They both knew it was because of her eye and the fact that she had only a meager dowry.
A month before the Season started, Sarah took a dose of laudanum and went to sleep. She never woke up. Mirabella was horrified and saddened. The physician agreed that Sarah died from a weak heart, so there would be no hint of scandal on the family.
A few days later, Mirabella discovered the truth. While putting away Sarah’s things, Mirabella found a diary and discovered that Sarah had been meeting a gentleman late at night whom she called Prince Charming. They became lovers and soon Sarah discovered she was pregnant. When the man refused to marry her, Sarah became despondent and took her life.
The pages in the diary held few clues to the despicable man’s identity. Mirabella knew only that he was a well-known, eligible gentleman, shorter than the average man—and he had a wide, raised scar on the right side of his neck just above his collarbone. Sarah had also written that she had danced with him more than once last Season. That information had allowed Mirabella to make a list of possible suspects from Sarah’s dance cards.
Mirabella couldn’t bear the thought of such an unscrupulous man passing himself off as a gentleman and living the rest of his life without consequences. Keeping this knowledge to herself for fear he’d leave Town should he know anyone was looking for him, she devised a way to find him and discreetly expose him to Society as an unconscionable man. A few chosen words passed around Town would see to it that he would be shunned by every respectable household. Pushy mamas of the ton wouldn’t allow their innocent daughters near a man who might violate them.
If Sarah hadn’t been so desperate for a man’s love, Prince Charming would never have succeeded in seducing her. Mirabella never wanted to be in that position. If her fiancé never returned to claim her, so be it. Love couldn’t be that important. She was content to live as a spinster in her father’s house.
Bertram touched Mirabella’s cheek with a cupped hand. “Let’s not talk about that anymore. It’s too upsetting for you. We have something else to discuss. I’ve heard nothing from Lord Lockshaven since sending him an ultimatum more than two months ago. I want you to know I’m committed to breaking the engagement if his son hasn’t returned by the end of the Season.”
Mirabella turned her thoughts from Sarah. “I think our engagement was over before it started, Papa. I never told you, but that day years ago when the earl and his son were here, I was eavesdropping outside the library.”
He smiled. “I suspected as much. You were always a bright child, always wanting to know everything that was going on. I never had the heart to reprimand you.”
“I heard him say he’d be an old man with gray hair before he returned to claim his bride. I know he meant it, Papa. I never saw his face, but I heard conviction in his voice.”
He nodded. “I’ve come to the same conclusion. That is why we won’t wait any longer. I can’t wait any longer.”
Mirabella’s chest tightened with alarm. She knew her father believed his time to be short, but she wouldn’t allow herself to agree with him. “Papa, I’m happy here with you. I’m content to be alone. You know I don’t want to marry and leave you.”
“Poppycock. It’s what daughters do.”
“Not all young ladies marry.”
“All daughters as beautiful as you do. Now, I want to hear no more foolish talk about remaining unwed.”
At the sound of a knock, Mirabella turned. Lily stood in the open doorway clutching the hem of her damp apron. Her pristine appearance and chipmunk cheeks always made Mirabella feel like smiling.
“Pardon me, sir.”
“Yes, Lily?”
“Miss Bella’s wash water is poured.” She turned her attention to Mirabella. “I know how you hate for the water to get cold.”
“Thank you, Lily.”
“You run along and pamper yourself. We’ve had enough talk for one day. Be sure to come and let me see how lovely you look before you leave.”
“I will, Papa.” She kissed his cheek, and then left the room.
The last thing Mirabella wanted to do tonight was go to more parties with her uncle. She would much rather have dinner upstairs with her father and later read to him, or play a game of whist, cribbage or speculation unless—unless she could see the handsome man with the shiny brown eyes. She wondered if they would ever meet again.
Mirabella walked into her room and closed the door. She loved her private chamber with its floral-printed walls and luxurious bedcovers. The yellow velvet draperies reminded her of a day filled with sunshine. Her dark wood furniture added a measure of distinction to the feminine decor. She slipped her lace fichu off her shoulders and turned her back to Lily so her maid could unbutton the bodice of her muslin morning gown.
Mirabella chided herself. What did it matter about the stranger? She would never see him again or her phantom fiancé. Sarah had to be her only concern.
“Lily, what are you doing on your day off?” Mirabella asked.
The maid stopped her task and looked around her mistress’s shoulder at her. “I don’t get in trouble, Miss Bella. You know I’m a good girl.”
“Of course I do.” Mirabella tried to sound casual. “I wasn’t scolding. I was just wondering if you still helped your sister at that place down on Fortenberry Street.”
Lily went back to work on the buttons. “Hannah Jack’s Tavern? Every week. And if my mama, God bless her soul, doesn’t quit having babies to feed, I’m likely to be there the rest of my life.”
Mirabella slipped her arms out of the long-sleeved bodice and turned for Lily to unlace her corset. “What exactly do you do there?”
“Whatever they tell me to do. I scrub floors, wash dishes, wh
atever I’m told to do.”
“Do you ever see any of the men who go there?”
“Of course I do. It’s a place for gentlemen,” Lily said, sounding a bit perturbed as she pulled on the strings of the corset, but suddenly stopped. Her hands jerked to her portly hips and her brows drew together in a frown. “Why are you asking me these questions? Are you going to ask me to put on a man’s shirt and neckcloth again so you can practice slipping your finger down the collar of the shirt?”
Mirabella felt color rise to her cheeks. Lily had grumbled for days about that; but without practice, how else was Mirabella to learn to check the neck area just above the collarbone quickly? Due to practicing on Lily, Mirabella was quite adept at the task, which saved her valuable time.
“No, of course not.”
“You shouldn’t be doing things like that, Miss Bella. It’s not natural.”
“Oh, Lily, don’t fret so. I’m merely curious about what happens at a tavern or a gentleman’s club, or at a bathhouse.”
“Bathhouses? Where did you hear about such?”
“I read everything that comes into this house, and I also listen to the servants talk.”
“Proper ladies like you shouldn’t be curious about such places. And you shouldn’t be wondering how to get your finger down a man’s tight neckcloth, either. Are you planning something improper?”
“It wouldn’t concern you if I was, but I’m not.” Not right away. “Now, tell me about when men play billiards and cards at their clubs and in taverns. Do they take off their cravats and collars and get more relaxed?”
Lily didn’t take her gaze off Mirabella’s face. “Sometimes, but not often.”
“Do they look at you when you are there?”
“No. I don’t look at them, and they don’t look at me.”
“How do you know they don’t look at you if you don’t look at them to see them not looking at you?”
“One, because those are places for gentlemen to act like gentlemen. Two, there are other places for a man to go if he wants to look at servants. Three, the way my upper lip is twisted out of shape no man wants to look at me.”
Mirabella smiled affectionately at her portly maid. “I think any man should want to look at you. I think you have a pretty face with lovely eyes.”
“Well, you are the only one who thinks that, Miss Bella. And why are you asking me all these questions about clubs and taverns?”
“Merciful heavens, Lily, you have no reason to worry so much about me doing something wrong. I am only trying to learn a few things that you already know. Now, what exactly happens at a bathhouse?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell you because I haven’t been to one and most women haven’t. Now, Miss Bella, we have to stop this kind of talk. It’s not proper.”
Mirabella stepped out of her shift and drawers and into the warm water, a plan forming in her mind. Maybe going to a bathhouse was beyond the pale even for a female servant, but what about being a male servant in a tavern or a gentleman’s club where men felt relaxed and at ease. It seemed to her that it would be a perfect way to see a man’s neck and to search for a scar. It would be risky, but certainly not any more risky than allowing gentlemen to take her into the garden for a kiss. She had to consider the idea of posing as a servant and give it careful thought.
This kissing business was getting her nowhere fast.
Three
Candlelight threw millions of sparkles and glimmers across the crowded room. Camden scanned the faces of women dressed in colorful gowns and skirts that swept across the dance floor. He’d had a moment’s hesitation when he first walked through the entrance, but he’d managed to shake free of the past before it had grabbed hold of him. He was going to be all right.
He wasn’t really here to let the ton know that he was over what had happened six years ago, or to catch his fiancée unaware as Hudson thought. He was searching for the young lady who’d been brave enough to leave a party without a chaperone, talk to a stranger in the dark of night, and kiss the side of his mouth.
Every time she crossed his mind, his heart beat a little faster than normal. She had been so appealing that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time.
Camden smiled to himself. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but it was true. He had been seduced.
She was the real reason he was here tonight. No other.
He had always considered himself a man of honor, and duty called. His father was right. It was past time he should have respected the engagement and made his fiancée his bride, but right now he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm to wed that young lady. He had wanted to wait until he made enough money in America so that he could be free of his father and the title, if he so chose.
It had been his choice to allow his father to bind him to a woman he’d never met. Having his father pick a bride for him seemed the best way to avoid falling in love, a trap he never wanted to be caught in again. He didn’t have a problem with the earl picking his bride, but Camden had wanted to set the time for the marriage. And he’d wanted to wait another year.
Few men fell in love with their wives if they didn’t love them before marriage. He was confident he’d never fall in love again. He’d come to know many beautiful women in America, and he hadn’t even come close to thinking he was in love with any of them.
But the intriguing lady he’d met last night had certainly caught his attention. He didn’t mind being amazed or infatuated with the fairer sex. In fact, the thought of enjoying a woman that much again intrigued him. But once love entered a man’s heart, he was committed and bound to drop his guard or act foolishly.
Light from the chandeliers glinted off jewels wrapped around necks, hanging from ears, and adorning the hair of the ladies on the dance floor and those who stood along the perimeter of the ballroom.
“You keep searching the dance floor, Brother. Do you think you’ll recognize her?” Hudson asked.
Of course.
He couldn’t tell his brother that he wasn’t looking for his fiancée.
“No. I’m sure I’ve never met Miss Whittingham. I was just thinking how much some people have changed while I’ve been away. I’ve seen friends and acquaintances who have gained weight, lost hair, married and had sons.”
“Dear Camden, are you surprised London didn’t stand still waiting for you to return?”
“I had no fear of that, but the debutantes do look younger than they did a few years ago.”
“It’s you who has gotten older.”
Camden let Hudson’s comment pass. “What I’m surprised about is that you haven’t yet managed to present me to Miss Paulette Pemberton.”
Hudson carefully scanned the room before turning back to Camden. “We’ve only been here five minutes. Miss Pemberton will be here soon, I’m sure. Don’t look so intense, Camden. No one but family knows you made a vow not to attend another soiree. And I’m sure everyone is looking at you because you have been gone a long time.”
“Knowing that you also think that everyone is staring at me as if I’m a ghost returned from the dead does not help, Brother.”
Hudson chuckled. “It’s only natural that you will be the center of attention. But hear me well. You won’t be disappointed when you see your fiancée. Father did an excellent job in selecting your bride. Miss Mirabella Whittingham is a beautiful lady.”
“How lucky for me,” he said with no conviction in his voice. He continued to look at the face of every young lady who passed.
“America has changed you, Camden.”
“I would think so. They are far less formal than we are, especially when you travel out of the East.”
“Dreadful, I’m sure. I hear that outside of Boston, Philadelphia and Baltimore, they are really quite uncivilized.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Hudson. Besides, I rather liked the people in the new country. You should visit there.”
“No doubt I will eventuall
y. But something or someone kept you there six years.”
‘True. One feels freer to plan his own destiny and make his own choices.”
“You almost sound wistful, Camden. Tell me, did a young lady catch your eye in America?”
“Several.”
Hudson laughed. “You know we all suspected it was a mistress who kept you there so long.”
Camden pondered his brother’s words. “A mistress to be sure, but not a woman.”
If all went well this winter with the shipyard company he worked for in America, by next spring he should be independently wealthy. He had been smart to stay away from indulging in a lavish lifestyle, choosing to live frugally while in America. The money he invested should reward him tenfold with the completion of the new steam engine for ships.
Hudson gave him a queer look. “That sounds intriguing. What do you mean? A mistress but not a woman?”
“Stonehurst, it is you. I was told you were back in London, and I didn’t believe it. When did you return?”
The familiar voice and the clap on the back of his shoulder brought Camden up short. He turned and faced a man who had been a close friend since boyhood.
Camden grinned. “Albert Farebrother. It’s good to see you.”
The slim built, sandy-haired man beamed as he pumped Camden’s arm and clapped him on the shoulder again. “Have you been back long? Why haven’t you come around to see me? You should have let me know.”
“Just returned last evening. You remember my younger brother Hudson, don’t you?”
“Of course, I remember him.” Albert and Hudson greeted each other. Then Albert said to Camden, “Didn’t waste any time getting back into the swing of things I see, attending a party your first full day back. Bravo for you. No doubt you want to catch up on everything that has happened.”
Camden ignored Albert’s comments. “You’re looking well, Albert. You haven’t changed a dram while I’ve been away.”
“Oh, but I have. My father passed on, and I’m now Earl of Glenbrighton. I married last year and have a son born just months ago—with another babe on the way.”