The women laughed together, trading gossip and catty remarks about the other women. To Mrs. Quince’s relief, Royall continued primping, obviously forgetting her oath not to attend the dinner.
Royall was regal with her golden curls piled above her smooth brow. Her skin shone with health, and the sapphire of her gown complimented the golden flecks in her eyes.
Clasping a necklace about her slim, graceful neck, she thought better of it and instead fastened a small topaz brooch to her bodice. Satisfied with her reflection, she slid her narrow feet into a pair of sapphire blue slippers.
“It’s time to go, Mrs. Quince. We certainly don’t want to be unfashionably late to the DuQuesnes.”
Rosalie Quince wore her most victorious smile as she followed Royall from the bedroom. The art of persuasion had always been one of her strongest virtues, she thought smugly.
“Mrs. Quince, can you help me with these little hooks. I can’t seem to reach them,” Royall called.
“In a moment, dear. I’m just about ready.”
Royall sat before her mirror winding the gold ribbon through her intricately braided hair. She and Mrs. Quince had left the DuQuesne dinner, as had all the other guests, to come back to the Quince’s townhouse to dress for the masquerade. “I’ll never understand,” she muttered to herself,
“why they begin a ball at the ungodly hour of ten-thirty.” A deep sigh escaped her; she wasn’t looking forward to the festivities, knowing Sebastian would be there. It galls me the way every woman in town makes cow eyes at him. One would think he was some sort of god. It didn’t occur to Royall to think that her anger stemmed from simple jealousy. Senor Rivera this, and Senor Rivera that, she snarled to her reflection. And what did he do? The bastard accepted it as his due. Arrogant, disgusting ... man.
Royall’s eyes darkened till they were dancing flames. How well she recalled the scene at the Roswells’ dinner party the evening before last. Sebastian had been paying compliments to the Roswells’ pudgy, dull, giggling daughter, and Mrs. Roswell beamed a satisfied smile toward the disappointed mothers whose own daughters shot covetous looks at Nancy. And Sebastian loved every minute of it! Loathsome man! As if he could be interested in a dullard like Nancy Roswell.
And then to leave the poor lovesick girl to move on to another, and no doubt regale her with the same practiced compliments he had paid to Nancy! Several times Royall had seen Sebastian glancing her way, and once he deliberately moved over to a circle of women with whom she was talking and asked Cynthia Taylor to dance, greeting all in the circle and pointedly ignoring her. It was a public slap in the face, and one she wouldn’t soon forget.
Rosalie Quince stepped into the room, her gaze meeting that of the grimacing girl.
“Royall, is something wrong? Are you ill? I know the duckling sauce was rich, but I swear I didn’t see you take more than a bite! Ah, I can see Anna has outdone herself with her needle. You’re lovely, young lady, simply lovely!” she said brightly.
Royall flushed with Mrs. Quince’s complimentary words. She turned to face her reflection and stared at herself with unbending scrutiny. The soft white gown was empire in its lines, so popular during the reign of Napoleon’s Josephine. Gold ribbon outlined the severe V of the neckline and crossed over her bosom to wrap around her midriff several times over. The stark white of the shimmering silk was offset by heavy gold bracelets worn on her upper arm, and complemented the gold kid slippers on her slim feet. In her hand she would carry a miniature bow and arrow. To pierce Sebastian Rivera where it would do the most good, she thought sourly.
Mrs. Quince’s eyes swept Royall’s golden head, down to the kid slippers on her feet. “I’m sure when the ancients spoke of ‘Diana the Huntress’ they could never have imagined her to be as beautiful as you are.”
“Mrs. Quince, I wish you would stop referring to me as beautiful. I appreciate your kindness, but I’m sure you’re much too extravagant in your praise.”
“Nonsense, child, when one gets to be my age, one has the privilege of speaking one’s mind and posh and tother with all the amenities. You’d better be careful this evening, you’ll find yourself in the midst of lovesick young men and irate old mothers, not that it would be such a surprise to you. I’ve seen the effect you have on the young gentlemen here in Manaus, and I can assure you, you’ll not be lacking for partners this night! Sebastian will find himself hard pressed to get near you.”
Rosalie Quince fumbled with the tiny hooks at the back of Royall’s costume, giving the girl more time to study herself in the glass.
Mrs. Quince was truthful in her judgment, Royall thought smugly. She knew she looked her best in Anna’s handiwork. The dress accentuated her petite figure, and the severe neckline revealed a bosom more ample than her spare form should allow. If there was one thing that would draw a man’s eyes, it was a woman’s bosom.
“Royall, we’ll have to hurry. Alonzo is downstairs waiting for us now.” Royall only half listened to the gray-haired lady whom she had come to love.
“That man,” Rosalie complained. “Sometimes I think he has a clock for a brain. You know how he hates to be kept waiting.”
Royall faintly listened to Mrs. Quince grumble until they reached the main staircase. Mrs. Quince suddenly became still. She stood there beaming down at her husband, Alonzo. He stood at the foot of the stairs and gazed upward at his wife. It was not the first time Royall had been a witness to the love the Quinces had for each other. Alonzo was a tall, pink-cheeked man with silvery white hair. Watery, faded blue eyes held a tenderness for Rosalie that was still evident after so many years. He clearly adored her, and the feeling was noticeably reciprocated. When they descended the staircase he lavished compliments on Rosalie’s choice of dress, a pale blue satin, and only as an afterthought did he think to compliment Royall on her costume.
There was no way Royall could feel affronted by his lack of enthusiasm regarding her costume. Instead, she felt lighthearted, as always, at the steady, deep love that was shared between them.
The carriage turned into the Parradays’ circular drive, where the ball was to be held. The traffic of carriages suddenly came to a standstill.
“Alonzo, I’m supposed to be on the receiving line. As a judge, it’s one of my duties.”
Alonzo Quince glanced at his wife and smiled, and Royall felt the unspoken recriminations of Rosalie’s habitual tardiness.
“I can see where we’re going to be tied up here for a while. Why don’t you and Royall step down now and walk to the front. It’s just a short distance.”
“Alonzo, I never cease to marvel at your astuteness. Of course, we’ll walk!” Royall could see this was just what practical Mrs. Quince intended all along, but she allowed her husband to claim the idea for his own. Alonzo proceeded to assist his wife and Royall. While he gave orders to the coachman, Royall turned to see Mrs. Quince favor her with a decidedly conspiratorial wink.
Rosalie tugged at her arm as they approached the bright lanterns lighting the entrance to the Parradays’ palatial home.
Royall’s eyes flicked over the crowd. Her gaze settled on the Baron peering into the distance, searching the melee of carriages, no doubt searching for Mrs. Quince’s party. As they approached the main entrance, he turned suddenly and saw her. Shouldering his way through the throng, he was beside them in a matter of seconds.
“Royall, you’re beautiful!” He nodded his greetings to Mrs. Quince, remarking on Rosalie’s choice of gown. “I’m sure you have duties to perform, Mrs. Quince, as you’re one of the receiving line. I’ll see to Royall.”
Mrs. Quince sniffed her acquiescence and went up the marble steps to the ball. Her bearing was regal, that of a dowager queen. It was silently understood between Alonzo and Royall that she, by her very actions, had dismissed the Baron.
“I think we might be wise if we waited for the crowd to thin. I don’t want to see you trampled in this melee of party goers,” the Baron said in an intimate tone. Deftly, he guided her to the side, out
of the way of the arriving guests.
Royall felt a chill run down her arms. She didn’t like his tone, nor did she appreciate the way he was touching her arm. His touch somehow inferred an intimacy she had no intention of sharing. Imperceptibly, she moved her arm, only to find the Baron’s grip become tighter. “You are quite beautiful, Royall. I know that every man’s eyes will be on you this evening. How fitting that you should come as Diana. Many times since you arrived at the Casa I’ve found myself equating your beauty with that of a goddess.”
“Yes, I know,” Royall said haughtily. “What I mean, Baron, is that I know that I look beautiful, and others beside yourself have said the same. I fear all this attention is going to my head. As a matter of fact, if you’ll excuse me, I feel a trifle light-headed. I’ll just find the powder room. Perhaps there’s some other young lady you can ... help.” Without another word Royall extricated herself from his grasp. She jostled her way through the crowd, intent on finding Rosalie Quince. Anything or anyone just so she wouldn’t have to be in the Baron’s company. If necessary, she would hide out in the powder room all night just so she could avoid him. Her skin prickled as she remembered the feel of his hand on her arm, pressing ever so slightly into the side of her breast.
Inside, her intention of finding the powder room was forgotten. The gaily decorated ballroom was ablaze with gaslights. A monstrous chandelier suffused its lights into shimmering rainbows on the merrymakers dressed in jewel colors. Brilliant crimson chairs lined one wall for the ladies. Opposite the gilt chairs were two thronelike chairs decorated with tropical flowers of all descriptions.
Within minutes Royall’s dance card was full, save for two dances that she hoped Sebastian might claim for himself.
The voice was neutral when she turned to see who was addressing her. “I’m glad to see that your headache is better, my dear. Or was it that you were light-headed with all the guests milling about. Young people are so resilient.” Royall cringed. His voice when he spoke again reminded Royall of oiled silk. She realized that she detested Baron Carlyle Newsome and dreaded even the thought of having to dance with him.
“My dear, allow me,” he said reaching for her dance card.
“Oh, Baron, I’m so sorry, but the card has been filled.” Quickly, she raised it to the deep cleft in her bosom. Two bright spots of color dotted her cheeks as she kept her hand over the tiny dance card with its sky blue tassel falling into the cleft.
“Why, I do believe you’re flirting with me,” the Baron said unctuously. “You realize, of course, that you must dance with me, otherwise it will look peculiar. If you care to look around, you’ll notice that people are staring at us. Smile, my dear. Smile like you mean it.”
Royall recognized the iron order. Her first thought was to defy him and run from the room. Instead, she let a slow, wicked smile play around her mouth. “Why, Baron, is it your intention then to have me cross off another name on my card?” Playfully, she flicked the card near his face. One heavily lashed eye drooped in a wicked wink. Quickly, she whirled around ... straight into Sebastian’s arms.
“I was beginning to think you had forgotten that this was your dance, Sebastian!” Quickly, she lowered her voice. “Smile, damn you, and show lots of teeth. I told the Baron ... never mind what I told the Baron. Dance with me and use both feet. Don’t say anything,” she managed through clenched teeth as Sebastian whirled her onto the dance floor.
“Why didn’t you just attack me? You would have gotten the same notice,” Sebastian said mockingly.
“Oh, my, that is funny,” Royall trilled as she tried to stare over Sebastian’s broad shoulder to see where the Baron was.
“I guess you know you’re going to be the scandal of this soiree. Most women don’t go around snatching men from other partners.”
“Then I just started a new trend,” Royall exuded a confidence she wasn’t feeling. “You aren’t smiling. Do it, damn you, or I’ll kick you where it will do the most good. Do you want me to end up like ...”
“Is this what you mean,” Sebastian grinned as he stretched back his lips to show glistening white teeth in a ghoulish grin. “What seems to be your problem anyway? I thought the Baron looked most attentive. After all, he is your—”
“Shut up, Sebastian, and dance. You aren’t exactly light-footed. You’ve stepped on my toes twice. Just keep your nose out of mine and the Baron’s business. You’re just doing me a tiny little favor.”
Sebastian threw back his head and laughed. Royall was mortified. “So, I stepped on your toes. I can only do one thing at a time. First, it was smile, show my teeth, then dance, and all the while I’m to be careful so you don’t kick me where it will do the most good. Darling lady, I am just a mere man. As for that tiny favor, how many times are you going to call upon my services in payment for that little romp we shared aboard ship?”
“Shhh,” Royall hissed. “That’s all it was to you, wasn’t it? A romp. Damn you, Sebastian, you really are a no-good, lascivious—”
“Smile, Royall with two L’s. People are staring at you. Be sure to show lots of teeth. Another thing, you really aren’t too old for a few dance lessons. You’ve taken the shine from my evening shoes. Clumsy women bore me,” he said, yawning in her face.
Royall’s eyes narrowed. She felt herself relax. Before Sebastian knew what was happening, Royall complained at the top of her voice, “How dare you make such an obscene suggestion in my presence? It gives me great pleasure to answer you in kind.” Before she could think twice, she brought up her knee with all the force she could muster.
“Excuse me, pardon me, please let me through,” she begged as she weaved her way through the crowd on the dance floor. When she finally found the powder room, she thought she would faint.
“Lord a mercy, child, what have you done. I have to admit this little soiree was dying on its feet, but was it necessary to set a bonfire to rekindle it? Royall, was it necessary ... What I mean, did you have to ... It’s quite possible that you’ve maimed Sebastian for life. You can’t ... it isn’t ... Royall, young ladies just do not do what you did, especially in front of hundreds of people.”
“Mrs. Quince, I have become very fond of you. In some respects you’re like a mother to me. However, in this one instant, you’ll have to allow me my ... What I did was well deserved. In years to come every mother in this room will thank me. Their daughters are now safe from his lechery. Find Jamie for me and have him meet me outside on the veranda. He can take me home now that I’ve disgraced myself. Make my apologies to the Parradays.”
Head high, cheeks flushed, Royall sailed through the doorway. She looked neither to the right nor to the left. Voices buzzed about her as she made her way through the central foyer out to the wide veranda. What if he was really hurt? Romp! Damn his soul to hell. Clumsy! Angry sparks spewed from her amber eyes. Just let one person say just one thing to her in Sebastian’s defense and he would get the same thing.
Taking deep breaths, Royall managed to calm herself while she waited for Jamie.
Jamie’s face wore a look of concern as he waited patiently for Royall to acknowledge him. She turned; this was the first time she had seen his costume. “Jamie, you look marvelous. I should have known you would come dressed as a toy soldier. No doubt every young lady in the room has her eyes on you.”
“I’m afraid not, Royall. The young ladies have eyes only for Sebastian Rivera. They swoon at his feet. Sometimes it makes me sick. They don’t even want to dance with me unless my father tells them they have to. Why do you want to go home? Do you have a headache, or did someone step on your toes?”
“Both, I’m afraid. Are you sure you won’t mind missing the ball, Jamie?”
“No, I won’t mind. Sebastian managed to get sick or something and every woman in the ballroom is squealing in agony. The men are mooning over him and cursing at the same time. Did you see what happened to him? I tried to find out what happened to him, but no one would tell me.”
Royall shrugged. The les
s Jamie knew, the better.
A sudden, viselike grip on her arm caused Royall to gasp in fright. “Now that you’ve made a spectacle of yourself, I suggest you come back to the ballroom and try to act like the lady you’re supposed to be. Don’t confuse my words as a suggestion. They’re an order. I will not have my family humiliated in such a manner, although I think Rivera deserved exactly what you gave him. Now,” the Baron said, holding up his hand to forestall her objections. “I know that it is going to be very embarrassing for you, but you must do it.”
Royall flinched. How right he was. It wasn’t any order, nor was it a suggestion. Pure and simple, she recognized it for what it was: a threat.
Assuming her most haughty expression, Royall walked ahead of the Baron as Jamie trailed in their wake.
The music began; the Baron held her around the waist and smiled down at her, and she found herself whirling across the floor. The Baron was a well-practiced dancer, and she fell gracefully into the rhythm of the waltz. “Where is Jamie? Is he still here?”
“He’s here. Look, there he is, looking for you, no doubt, to add his name to your dance card.”
Royall followed the Baron’s gaze. Jamie stood on the perimeter of the ballroom, his bright red soldier’s uniform with brass buttons and insignia gleaming in the light.
“I’m not surprised at his costume,” Royall said quietly, feeling more at ease with the Baron now that he had loosened his arm around her waist.
“Yes,” the Baron replied just as quickly. “As you can see, I don’t care for the costumes, that is why I am wearing my dinner jacket. But Jamie wouldn’t miss an opportunity to dress.”
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