“I insisted my husband seek his friends’ company, but I’m afraid I must find him now,” April said, “before he gambles a year’s income over a hand of cards. If you need anything, Isabella, you have only to ask.”
April opened her fan and left her side. Isabella watched her move deeper into the room until the crowd swallowed the smallest glimpse of her. With no lady companion, Isabella intended to stand among the wallflowers but then decided against it. They were looking for husbands and would pounce at an opportunity to be cruel.
Isabella searched the crowd of women with their pinned hair twisted in exotic fashion. She looked for faces of dwindling wealth to whom inexpensive music lessons might appeal. Her choices of income were tutoring or becoming a governess. She shuddered at the thought of becoming a governess for ladies she once considered her peers. Ladies who would remind her at every turn her new lot in life. No, tutoring was her only option—the post paid better and she could tolerate the parents in small doses.
She did not notice Lady Jane, Duchess of Kenningsly Estate, step into her path. The older woman was her mother’s childhood friend. The last time they had seen each other was at her mother’s funeral years ago.
Isabella’s heart raced. She hoped the woman remembered sending an invitation and that she’d accepted before the scandal broke. Would the duchess have her escorted out? Isabella felt numerous eyes in the room and knew she was not the only one awaiting the older woman’s verdict. No, she decided, this woman was her mother’s friend; she would not create a to-do at her own party.
“Lady Isabella.” The duchess’s smile emphasized her high cheeks and straight nose.
She curtsied. “Duchess, what a grand event to start the Season.”
“I am delighted you were able to attend.” The duchess’s eyes twinkled. Eyes that mirrored the color of her dark green dress.
Isabella raised a brow. “Are you?”
The older woman threw back her head and laughed. She linked her arm through Isabella’s and steered them in a new direction. At least she was not being led to the door. “Of course, dear. After all, I did request your presence.”
“So you did.”
“Could you imagine, my ball, the talk of the ton for weeks? Ladies will be asking my recommendations before sending a single invitation.”
“I am happy for you.”
The duchess’s eyes sparkled with mischief, and she laughed again. It was a rich sound, as if used often. Her bosom swelled with merriment to the top of her dark green gown. Isabella had mistaken the lines on the older woman’s face to be those from age, but the lines deepened each time the duchess laughed. Those wrinkles were caused from much happiness and high spirit. Isabella wondered if she would ever be so lucky.
“Since your success in planning balls is linked to my embarrassment, you are sure to be remembered forever and a day.”
“Come now, your slip will be forgotten by then.”
Isabella groaned. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to suggest you did not turn me away for your own benefit.” The woman had not caused her disgrace and, so far, had shown Isabella more kindness than her own father. She had also given Isabella comfort in the weeks that followed her mother’s death.
The duchess waved away her apology. “I see fire in you, and if this gaggle of…” she extended her hand to include the room, “bores don’t see that, they can all go hang. What do you say we even the odds, dear?” The duchess stopped and turned until they were facing the dance floor. “Do you see the two ladies across the room, dressed in lavender and sage? Have you noticed how their husbands keep refilling their glasses?”
Isabella nodded.
“I happen to know they often partake in naughty adventures.”
“All four of them?”
“In the same bedchamber, dear.”
Isabella flushed, then giggled. The duchess continued to feed her tidbits of gossip as they circled the room, each more scandalous than the last. She forgot the crowd, forgot her reasons for attending the ball. She floated, arm in arm with the host of the ball. The duchess had saved her with this show of kindness.
For a moment her woes became a distant echo, until unease nipped at the fine hairs along the back of her neck. This particular sensation, however, was distinct. It was a never forgotten feeling of awareness. One she’d only experienced once, years ago, under the gaze of her dark-eyed rescuer. She was being watched, and the suspicion both frightened her and sent her blood racing.
She was searching the sea of people when her eyes settled across the room. A gentleman turned from the hallway where she guessed housed the gentlemen’s card game and library. He towered over most of the men. Thick strands of raven hair inches above the high collar of his white shirt were fastened by a black ribbon. His frock coat, the color of his impudently bunched hair, hugged his shoulders. And from across the room, she suspected his frock coat needed no padding to help fill the broad planes of his chest.
His skin was dark, sun kissed. An unbidden image of nibbling his strong dark jaw rushed to mind, and with it curled awareness low in her stomach. Only she had no desire to feel anything, nor could she afford to. Not when her emotions led to trouble. Hadn’t scandal proven desire was naught but trouble? But, even as she tried to still the wayward fluttering in her stomach, it refused to heed her commands.
His very presence demanded attention, and he entered the room as if he belonged wherever he chose. Her gaze moved lower to his tailored breeches hugging his trim waist.
“That rogue, dear child, is Captain Nicholas Ferguson.”
He inched through the crowd, moving closer, and she spied high black leather boots—an impractical choice for dancing—on his feet, instead of the heeled shoes the other gentlemen wore. The rascal dashed any notions of dancing. Her heart rolled in her chest as her eyes slowly made their way back to his face. His clenched jaw held determination as he surveyed the crowd, and she suddenly remembered what it was like to be under his scrutiny. Did he remember her? She shivered at the thought, hoping he did not. But as her eyes raked him once more, she decided he was not a man who likely forgot anyone. Especially a woman he was convinced he had rescued. No, she decided, the man was more likely to remind her of her folly than forget.
“Handsome devil, isn’t he?”
She watched as he slowed to a stop. Their eyes locked. Isabella sucked in a breath as awareness curled her fingers.
“Oh my,” the duchess whispered.
Oh my, indeed. Isabella blushed. He had caught her staring. A gentleman would have nodded and turned away, but not him. Instead, his bold gaze held hers. The air grew thick, each breath heavier than the last. She looked away.
“…both Jack and Daniel will be delighted to have a turn with you,” the older woman was saying. “Jack’s a brilliant partner.”
When Isabella glanced back, Nicholas was gone. A smile touched her lips then faltered as she tried to focus on threads of the duchess’s introductions, but she’d only heard their Christian names. Dear heavens.
Jack bowed. “May I have the first dance, Lady Isabella, unless you’ve promised it to another?”
The duchess huffed. “Of course she hasn’t, Jack. I wouldn’t match you with someone already taken.”
“I don’t have a dance card,” Isabella said, turning over her wrists to reveal them naked of strings.
“Good. Silly things, really.” Jack took her fingers into his firm grip and led them towards the center of the dance floor. “I believe the music is about to start.”
“And I shall have the next,” Daniel said. “A waltz, I believe.”
Isabella glanced at Daniel and the duchess over her shoulder. They both smiled and nodded. The evening had taken quite a turn. She didn’t think she’d have a single dance partner all night, and now she had two. Surely this was not the way to tame gossip.
Their dance was delightful. Jack turned out to be a splendid partner, every bit as impressive as the duchess had suggested. He held her perfectly, never
too close, and showed the right amount of interest to make her feel she was the only woman in the room. She knew he took in all the innocent, affectionate eyes staring back at him and would never ask for a second dance.
“My mother is fond of you.”
Of course, Jack was the duchess’s son. How had she forgotten his deep blue eyes and the way a honey-colored lock of hair fell over his eyebrow? She wasn’t sure how to respond to his question. Did he think she came to take advantage of his mother?
He squeezed her hand. “And I can certainly see why.”
A second gesture of approval. The duchess had rallied in her favor, first by walking her about the room, then by having her son do the same. They twirled a final time and, as the song ended and a new one began, Isabella found herself in Daniel’s arms. The duchess had also introduced him while she’d been distracted by the captain’s appearance in the ballroom. Now, if she could get him to reveal his rank…
His hands were warm, sliding against her lower back as they drifted in the midst of other dancers. The tune played and she searched her mind, anything to distract herself from how scandalously close he held her. “My…lord?” She blushed.
“Call me Daniel.”
“I will not.” The music called for them to separate.
“And I shall call you Isabella.” Together again, his hold on her lower back tightened. He grinned, the scoundrel. “It’s only reasonable.” His face dropped an inch. “Since you don’t recall my rank. You haven’t tried earl; I’ve always fancied that title.” The mischievous twinkle in his eyes took the sting out of his reprimand. Another gentleman would have huffed, his chest swelling with indignation. And at another time, when she’d made her entry into society, she would have gushed at such an introduction from the duchess. Isabella sighed; she would have also taken note of a gentleman’s rank, property, and lineage.
Isabella straightened her back. Her past life scarcely mattered, except acquiring students to support herself financially. That meant she needed the ton.
She eyed him warily; he was right, of course. Why had she not paid attention instead of allowing herself to be distracted by Captain Nicholas’s presence? “You don’t intend on telling me, do you?”
“Absolutely not.”
She sighed. They moved to the side of the dance floor as the band started another tune. New dancers filled the space, shouldering them farther into the room. “What is it you want?”
“To be your friend. To call on you.” He smiled, raised his elbow, and waited for Isabella to place her hand on the sleeve of his coat.
“Why would you endure such inconvenience?” she asked warily, lacing her arm through his.
“On the contrary, I consider myself an excellent judge of character, my lady, and you’re delightful.” He stopped, pausing their stride through the crowd for a breath, and looked at her. “My aunt thinks highly of you.”
“Your aunt…”
He chuckled, reminding Isabella of a boy caught in mischief. It was also a lighthearted sound that wrapped around her heart. But she couldn’t afford such luxury, nor another slip, not when she was sorely in need of funds. So she strengthened her resolve against Daniel’s easy charm. “The duchess is generous. Do you always accept your aunt’s judgment in character?”
“Only when she insists.”
She briefly toyed with the idea of keeping silent and accepting his offer of friendship, then dismissed the notion. “I’m not at all the sort of friend you need.” They turned towards a more private hallway.
“Nonsense, you’re exactly what I need, and by all accounts, you could use a friend.”
Isabella’s brows arched. “I’ve been called rebellious…” Her steps slowed, and she looked at him. “Disobedient for not following my father’s wishes.”
“I prefer my friends not to be simpering cowards.” He smiled, revealing a pair of handsome dimples resting below proud cheekbones. “And you should know…I’ve been called naughty.”
Isabella blinked, resisting the urge to rub the back of her neck. Surely her nape was on fire from his brash words. She quickly looked around and noted with relief that no one paid them heed. It has been a long time since she’d bantered so freely with anyone from high society, least a gentleman who offered friendship. She could no more resist the possibility that he understood her circumstance than if he’d offered fresh cream. Tilting her head slightly closer, Isabella dropped her voice to a whisper. “Is that true? Are you naughty?”
He covered the hand that rested on his sleeve. “Only if one believes rumors.” They took a few steps in silence before his gaze met hers. “Are you alright? You seem…distracted.”
The hallway seemed longer. The walls stood at her back as if they had moved closer. Her smile fell, replaced by a nervous tingle at the corners of her lips. “I need a moment. It’s been a time since I’ve enjoyed so much attention.”
“Only a touch of excitement, then?” he asked, and, when she nodded, Daniel left her at the door of the powder room, promising to return with refreshments.
Three
Four years ago, Nicholas would have given little thought to Isabella’s reputation. Of course, that was a different time. He’d been restless and young, had held no particular affection for the ton, and still didn’t. This time, however, he had more than himself to consider. There was Cassie, his daughter.
Over the years, no woman had distracted him for any great amount of time, and he often found himself thinking about the girl in the lake—wet, with mussed hair, trembling against him as she tried not to drown. He would not have released her to a fate beneath the water, and he had no intention of releasing her now. Lord help him, but he was going to make her a proposition, and he hoped she’d grown into the reasonable sort.
“The night is full of surprises, wouldn’t you say?” Viscount Greystone, a rival ship owner, stood at Nicholas’s side. “The captain at a party far outside his circle, for one.”
The smile wavered from the corners of Nicholas’s mouth. He never trusted a man who proclaimed to own the best cargo vessel but never ventured to sea once. He’d seen the man turn green from simply attempting an inspection. It was as if the waters Nicholas treasured had turned up its nose each time the viscount ventured near its depths, as if recognizing an imposter.
“What is a man like you doing here?” Greystone asked. They locked eyes for an instant before Nicholas shrugged. “Don’t bother denying it; you seldom do anything without reason.”
“Don’t wrinkle your collar,” Nicholas said.
The viscount sipped the contents in his half-empty glass. “I’ll make introductions, can’t imagine anyone else has offered.” Of course he’d wave his title, even one of viscount, and effectively remind Nicholas of his lack of peerage.
Just as the sea rejected the viscount, Nicholas declined his offer. “Generous, but I’ve already met the butler.”
“Even I believe you’re a notch above that.” The viscount stared at Isabella about the rim of his glass. “My mother assured me Lady Isabella would not show. I’ve just lost fifty pounds.”
“I hope it wasn’t part of your payment to me. Mayhap you shouldn’t bet on the certainty of a lady.”
The man swallowed his drink, then thrust his empty glass onto the tray of a passing waiter. “Your man is holding my shipment hostage.”
“Only until you pay your debt,” Nicholas said, reminding the man of his trip to the coast of Africa, a place he knew the viscount was not brave enough to venture. The muscles at the side of the viscount’s neck twitched before he faced the dancers again.
“You think Lord Emsley knows of Lady Isabella’s presence? His wife is in tow tonight.”
Nicholas froze. He hadn’t thought Isabella might encounter Lord Emsley and wondered if she knew Emsley attended the party. “Why not ask him?”
“I’m in no spirit for his foul temper.”
Nicholas wished the viscount would move on and find another ear to torment. Lady Isabella was now into he
r second set, this time in the arms of Lord Daniel.
The viscount followed Nicholas’s gaze and frowned. “What the devil is she wearing? Bollocks, man. She looks like a peeled banana.” The words were said in a huff, as if trying to convince himself of them.
Was the man blind? “Gold,” he said, without looking at the viscount. Golden flecks, he thought more precisely. “Her skirt isn’t so outrageous that it hides her curves.” She looked as beautiful as he remembered and, just then, when she laughed, he saw her spirit. A lock of raven hair fell from its cage at the top of her head to brush against the curve of her neck, and he wished to be closer to see the soft strands wisp against her pale skin. Her cheeks were flushed pink from dancing and laughing, and he was delighted she did not paint her face as was the custom with ladies past their prime. The light from the gas lamps and her golden dress made the freckles along her nose rollick. “Extraordinary.”
“No matter.” The viscount clicked his tongue. “Without connections, no one will marry her.”
“It’s good you’ve no intention of marrying her then.”
“Strike me, if I’m entangled with such a destitute shrew.”
“You’re a friend of Lady Isabella’s former fiancé, Lord Emsley.” Nicholas’s fist balled at his side. “Imagine the earl’s reaction when he learns you’ve called his daughter a shrew.”
“I doubt the man pays attention to anything outside the card rooms.”
“Perhaps, but I can assure you, he’ll care about assumptions of his wealth, especially if they are false,” Nicholas said. “As for Lady Isabella, I doubt any father completely abandons his children. I’d tread lightly, my lord. A man of his rank could see you run through for your falsehoods.”
When Nicholas faced the hall again, he lost sight of Lady Isabella and Lord Daniel. It wasn’t until he turned down the corridor that led to the powder and more private sitting rooms that he saw them. Was the fire-cat up to her old tricks? Did she know of her former fiancé’s attendance, and planned to make him jealous by lavishing favors on Lord Daniel? Years ago, she’d been young and naive, but even then, she’d tempted him as a way to make her lover jealous, and Nicholas wondered how far she’d go to gain Emsley’s attention now that he had spurned her.
The Captain's Lady Page 2