“Tell me.” The command didn’t surprise her. Allegra had always been as protective of her friends as they of her. She sighed.
“Marston has left me.” Saying the words made tears well up in her eyes again. She blinked hard, fighting them back. The man wasn’t worth the effort.
“Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry, but I confess I never liked Marston at all. He has never treated you with the respect you deserved.”
“I’ve been a fool.” Ruth drew in a deep breath and shook her head.
“You most certainly have not. You did what you thought you had to do to survive.”
“No, not survival . . . a refusal to admit the truth. I am old, Allegra.”
“Nonsense. You’re only four years older than me, and you look younger.” Her friend sent her a look of admonishment. She rejected the observation with a shake of her head.
“He left me for Ernestina Fitzgerald. She’s at least fifteen years younger than me.”
“And the woman is twice as dim-witted as Marston. The two shall make a handsomely dull pair.” The disgust in her friend’s voice made Ruth choke out a laugh.
“See, you agree with me,” Allegra said with great satisfaction. “There are plenty of men who would find themselves enthralled with you. And when you attend the Somerset ball this evening I’ve no doubt you’ll see how quickly men will flock to your side.”
“I couldn’t possibly go this evening.” She stared at Allegra in horror. “Marston will be there. He’ll have Ernestina with him, and everyone will know he left me for her.”
“Well, they’ll notice it more if you’re not there. You know as well as I do the sharks will close in the moment they smell blood.” Allegra eyed her sternly before suddenly flashing a wicked smile in her direction. “Besides, what better time to announce how delighted you are that Marston has finally found someone who equals his intellectual standing in the Set?”
This time Ruth laughed easily. “When you put it like that, it’s easy to see I’m crying over the man for no reason at all.”
“Precisely,” Allegra said firmly.
She forced herself to smile at the woman seated next to her. No, there was no reason to cry over Marston’s departure. But her lost youth? She had no doubt there were far more tears still to be shed for that loss. How had it happened? It seemed only yesterday that Allegra had invited her, Bella, and Nora to stay with her while her friend weathered the scandal that had made her the renowned courtesan she’d been before her marriage to the Earl of Pembroke.
How could twenty years pass in the blink of an eye? She didn’t feel old. Her hopes and desires were still the same, although the ones buried deep inside her seemed doomed to go unanswered. She envied Allegra and the happiness she’d found with the earl. Her gaze drifted up to where her portrait hung over the fireplace. The Viscount Westleah had commissioned it when she was twenty-three. They’d spent almost three years together before they’d parted as friends.
Westleah had bought this house for her then taught her how to manage the generous allowance he’d given her. It was how she’d made several sound investments that would ensure her retirement wouldn’t be one of abject poverty as was that of so many other women like her. She had simply hoped to have a little more time before being forced to retire.
The soft rattling of china caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Dolores entering the room with tea. The woman set the tray on the round table in front of the settee, and eyed her carefully for a moment. With a quick shake of her head, Ruth indicated she was fine and reached for the teapot. The maid, somewhat satisfied with Ruth’s silent assurance, released a soft grumble then left the salon. Eager to talk of something other than her future, Ruth smiled and offered her friend a cup of tea.
“Motherhood and marriage suit you, my dear. You’ve found a happiness most can only dream of.”
“I am happy, Ruth. If you had told me five years ago that I would be living such a wonderful life, I would have laughed at you.”
Neither one of them said it out loud, but for a courtesan to find love, let alone marriage, was a rare thing. The soft glow on Allegra’s face emphasized how happy her friend was despite the trials she’d endured in the Moroccan desert. Allegra had only shared some of the pain she’d experienced, but she knew her capture at the hands of Pembroke’s enemy had taken its toll on her friend.
Every so often, a dark emotion filled Allegra’s eyes that said the trauma would never leave her. When Lord Pembroke was present, he seemed to instinctively sense his wife’s distress and was immediately at her side. Robert, she would never grow accustomed to his Bedouin name, Shaheen, was devoted to his wife and children. The sound of a teacup clinking loudly against a plate pulled her out of her reverie.
“We’re not going to let him get away with this.”
“What?” Ruth sent her friend a puzzled look.
“Marston. Tonight, we’re going to see to it that everyone thinks Marston a fool for leaving you to take up with that flibbertigibbet Ernestina.”
“And exactly how do you propose to accomplish that?” she asked in a skeptical tone.
“Do you remember how Mrs. Langtry stood out among the rest of the Set by wearing a simple black dress before Bertie took her under his wing?”
“Lillie Langtry stood out because she was beautiful, not because she wore a simple black dress to catch the eye of the Prince of Wales. I’m reasonably attractive, but far from beautiful.”
“Nonsense. You’re lovely, and you have presence, Ruth. When you enter a room everyone stops to look at you. And that mysterious smile of yours makes men eager to discover all your secrets. Tonight you’re going to use that to your advantage.”
“And how, pray tell, am I going to do that?”
“Dolores is going to modify that hideous monstrosity of a dress Marston insisted you wear to his house party last winter.”
“The purple one with the enormous pink flowers?”
“Yes.” Allegra’s smile broadened. “The dress matches your eyes beautifully, but the flowers are horrendous. When Dolores makes the changes I have in mind, everyone will think Marston a fool for choosing Ernestina Fitzgerald over you.”
“Such a transformation seems highly unlikely, but I suppose a miracle is always possible,” she said with a skeptical laugh.
“Well, I for one believe in miracles,” her friend replied quietly. “And so should you.”
She met Allegra’s affectionate look with a doubtful smile, but her friend’s words were still in her head hours later as she climbed the steps to the Somerset town house. She should have known better than to question Allegra’s determination. With Dolores’s skillful sewing and Allegra’s vision, the two women had managed a miracle. The result was a daring dress that emphasized her ample bosom and rounded hips. But most of all, it was devoid of any lace, flounces, ruffles, or bows.
The sleeves, what little was left after Dolores had finished, barely clung to the edge of her shoulders, mere slips of material. The entire dress was one of stark simplicity, but symbolically, it represented her casting Marston off. The flowers, the ruffles, every decoration on the dress that had once weighed down the satin were gone, with the exception of a trail of pink flower petals bordering the hem. It would give her enormous satisfaction to point out that Dolores had refashioned Marston’s ostentatious choice into something much lovelier.
Her maid had pulled the original flowers apart to tack the pink trimming along the edge until they appeared to be actually falling off the hem. Before the night was over, they would be crushed and dirty. A silent sign of how unimportant Marston was to her. At her throat was the amethyst necklace she’d worn in the portrait Westleah had commissioned.
Her only other extravagance was a mauve-colored feather fan. As she entered the house, a tremor streaked through her as she caught sight of Marston entering the ballroom with Ernestina on his arm. In a mechanical fashion, she undid the frog loops of her cape, allowing the footman to gently remove it from he
r shoulders.
As more guests arrived, she stepped out of the way to inspect the sides and back of her gown for any unexpected wrinkles. It was more a need for time to collect herself than concern over her dress. The sudden whisper of sensation trailing across the back of her neck made her hand reach up to touch her skin. Satisfied her hair hadn’t unraveled from the knot on top of her head, she turned toward the ballroom. Another frisson skimmed its way over her skin as her gaze met that of a man who casually handed off his overcoat to the household staff without looking away from her.
He was almost a foot taller than her with hair the color of a moonless night. There was something intense and riveting about him. If Allegra thought she had presence, her friend hadn’t met this man. He seemed to dwarf everyone and everything in the entryway. He studied her for what seemed an eternity, yet she knew it was only a few seconds before another man she didn’t recognize drew his attention away. But the stranger’s look was enough to leave her heart racing.
She swallowed hard and gripped her fan tightly. Good lord, she was no longer twenty and attending her first soiree. She flinched at the thought. Suddenly overcome with the need to flee, she forced herself to cross the foyer floor toward the ballroom rather than claim her cape and head back out into the night. The sensation she’d experienced moments ago warmed her neck again, but she refused to turn around to look at the man. She hadn’t come here this evening to find a new paramour.
The moment she reached the ballroom doorway, her courage sagged. She didn’t see a single friendly face in the room. Dear God, where was Allegra? She wasn’t certain she could do this alone. The moment the thought entered her head, she stiffened her back. Her youth might be gone, but not her dignity. She’d hold her head high, and she’d make damn sure no one, not even Marston, would be able to tell how she was feeling inside. As she waited for those in front of her to pass through the receiving line, the tingle at the nape of her neck became a blazing heat.
Lord, it had been years since she’d had this type of a reaction to a man. In the crush of arrivals pushing their way toward the ballroom, the space between them evaporated. He was so close to her that the warmth of his breath singed her shoulder. The sudden image of his hands at her waist, pulling her back into his chest, flashed in her head. The mental picture sent a shudder rippling through her that she was certain everyone around her could see.
Confused by the strength of the sensations assaulting her, she almost stumbled forward in her haste to greet Lord and Lady Somerset. The reception she received was a polite one simply because of her relation to the Marquess of Halethorpe. Her stomach lurched at the thought of her father. She didn’t know whether to despise the man or thank him for sending her down the path she’d chosen so many years ago. Either one was painful to contemplate.
She turned away from the Somersets and slowly descended the steps into the ballroom. Despite her attempts to deny it, she wanted to know the stranger’s name, and as she made her way down the staircase, she heard him introduced as Lord Stratfield. The moment she reached the ballroom floor, a small group of women to her right caught her attention and her heart sank. Ernestina. The last thing she wanted was a scene. Desperate to find a friendly face, she strained her neck to see over top of an older woman with three tall feathers sticking up in her hair.
“Once an old cow is put out to pasture, you would think she’d stay there.” Ernestina’s comment sliced deep, and Ruth stiffened as she continued forward. She didn’t get far.
“Lady Ruth, what a delightful surprise to see you here this evening.”
Words failed her as the renewed tingling on the back of her neck ignited a fire that raced across her skin. Dear God, was that the way he always sounded? Like he’d just woken up and was inviting her to sin in ways she’d never dreamed. The wickedly deep, dark note of his voice sucked the air out of her lungs as she slowly turned toward him and extended her hand.
“Good evening, my lord.” She fought to keep her voice steady, and a shiver streaked up her arm as he politely kissed the back of her hand.
“Simplicity becomes you, my lady. I’ve never seen you look so exquisite.”
His gaze suddenly shifted to stare at the ruffles, lace appliqués, and bows adorning Ernestina’s gown. It was a deliberate snub, and everyone within hearing distance knew it. A part of her almost felt sorry for Marston’s new paramour. Still, she experienced a twinge of pleasure to see the other woman’s viciousness silenced, but she was leery of the man’s motives for coming to her rescue. When her eyes met his again, his gaze revealed nothing, but he smiled as he offered her his arm. Her heart immediately skidded out of control.
It was a smile that would be lethal to a woman’s heart if she allowed herself to fall under its spell. She accepted his arm and allowed him to guide her away from Ernestina and her friends. The frisson skimming over every inch of her body made her want to run as far away as she could. This man was far too attractive for his own good, which made him dangerous. Besides, he looked younger than her. A flirtation with him would only serve to make her feel that much older, and she was feeling far too vulnerable tonight.
“While I appreciate your gallantry, my lord, I can assure you I was not in need of rescue.” She heard the catch in her voice and forced herself not to look in his direction.
“It was a sincere compliment. The fact that it served to rescue you was secondary.” The husky note in his voice made her blood flow sluggishly. Lord, but the man was a mesmerist. She caught sight of Allegra and came to a halt. He turned his head toward her, his eyebrow quirking upward in either amusement or curiosity. She couldn’t determine which.
“Then I thank you again. If you’ll forgive me, I see a friend I must greet.” Something flickered in the depths of his vivid blue eyes, and it made her mouth go dry. Lord Stratfield bowed his head in her direction.
“A pleasure, my lady. I look forward to our next meeting.”
There it was again, that husky note of sin in his voice. Her chest tightened in reaction. Blast it, she was acting like a woman half her age. She was too well seasoned to allow herself to be affected so easily. She swallowed hard and gave him a slight nod as she fled his side. And she was fleeing. She was crossing the floor entirely too fast, not in her usual restrained manner. Despite reaching the safety of her small circle of friends, her pulse was still racing. Allegra offered her a small hug then stepped back to study her with a look of concern.
“Good heavens, you’re shaking.”
“It’s nothing, simply nerves.”
“Are you certain it’s not a devilishly handsome stranger that has you in a dither?” The amusement in Allegra’s voice sent a wave of heat into her cheeks.
“Of course not.” She sniffed with irritation as her friend eyed her with skepticism, but chose not to question her.
“You look stunning. I knew Dolores would make this dress a work of art. And the petals bordering the hem . . . it’s a masterpiece at saying the man isn’t good enough to kiss the hem of your gown.”
“Let me add to my wife’s observations, my lady.” The Earl of Pembroke offered her a slight bow. “You look enchanting.”
“Thank you both.”
“Might I add my own compliments as well, my dear? Everyone is talking about how radiant you look tonight.” The warm voice of Lord Westleah drifted over her shoulder, and she turned around with a smile of delighted surprise.
“William. How lovely to see you again.”
He greeted Allegra and the earl with warmth before turning back to her and leaning down to kiss both her cheeks. It had been months since they’d last seen each other, and to see him here tonight reminded her how long ago it had been since they’d first met. She pushed the thought aside as she stared up at her old lover.
“It’s been far too long, Ruth. How have you been?”
“Quite well.”
She forced a smile as she saw him narrow his gaze at her. Westleah knew her well, and could easily see through the façade she’
d deliberately thrown up for the evening’s event. She was grateful when he didn’t press her. As Allegra and the earl turned away to greet another couple, Westleah eyed her carefully.
“How do you know Baron Stratfield?” The question caught her by surprise, and she darted a quick look at her champion, engrossed in a conversation with several gentlemen across the room.
“I don’t. He overheard a rather nasty comment directed at me when I arrived and rescued me from further insult.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. He’s a decent fellow. Rarely takes offense at anything except the mistreatment of others.”
Allegra turned back to them at that moment, and her friend tipped her head to one side in a questioning manner. “What doesn’t surprise you, Westleah?”
“Lord Stratfield. It seems he rescued Ruth from some rather unpleasant gossip when she first came into the room.”
“Do you mean the handsome gentleman headed our way?”
Allegra’s question made her turn her head toward the last place she’d seen Lord Stratfield. To her astonishment, the man was coming toward them. No, her. He was heading directly toward her. Instantly, her palms felt clammy and her heart was pounding a hard rhythm against her chest. What in heaven’s name was she going to say to him? The question irritated her. Had she suddenly lost her wits? The art of flirtation was something she’d excelled at for years. Now suddenly one man had her doubting herself. No, it wasn’t him. The break with Marston had shaken her confidence. Nothing more.
Not to mention Lord Stratfield had to be at least five years younger than her, although there was something about his mannerisms that made him appear older than his years. She winced inwardly. Her interest in him was bordering on the absurd. The strains of a waltz faded into the background as her body hummed a melody all its own the moment the man joined them.
Westleah dealt with the introductions before excusing himself to speak with another friend, and in seconds Allegra had dragged her husband away to greet other guests. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought the entire thing was staged to leave her alone with Lord Stratfield. The silence stretched between them for a long moment before he cleared his throat.
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