by Janet Woods
Angelina gave an ecstatic sigh and promptly relieved her feet of their slippers. Hidden by her skirt she set her feet down upon the cool, stone slabs of the courtyard.
Glancing sideways at her, he grinned. “If I didn’t know you to be the most circumspect person on earth, I’d imagine you’d just disposed of your slippers.”
She wriggled a set of stockinged toes from underneath her skirt and laughed. “Circumspect or not, see how happy they are to be free of restriction.”
“Indeed, they’re the happiest looking toes I’ve seen in a long time.”
The toes were discreetly withdrawn in case they were observed by a pair of
dowagers patrolling the paths around the courtyard. Both ladies simpered at him and bestowed approving smiles on Angelina.
He waited until they were safely out of earshot. “You’ve conquered all tonight, even the dowagers. You’ll be besieged with invitations, and the young lords will fight duels over you as they barter for your hand.”
“I refuse to be haggled over like an object on a market stall.” She scowled fiercely at him. “James and my mother are aware of this.”
“You think you’ll be able to resist a male intent on conquest, little Angelina? They’ll come courting in droves, flaunting their feathers like proud peacocks. Their fine manners and flattery will turn your head.”
You are making the assumption my head is easily turned. Let them flaunt. I’ll pluck their fine feathers and send them draggle-tailed back from where they came.” She turned her back on him, making her displeasure clear. “You’re an oaf if you imagine I’m susceptible to empty, male flattery, Rafe.”
“This oaf is worthy of your disdain.” He smiled a little as he slid his hand inside his jacket. “Perhaps you’ll forgive my teasing when I offer you a small token for your birthday.”
“You are a master at teasing me.” Her frown was a shadow of its former self when she turned back to him. He watched it replaced by a smile. Her laughter was gently self-mocking, sending a delicious tingle down his spine. “I’ve decided to forgive you on this occasion, especially as you offer me a gift.”
“What a mercenary creature you are.” He withdrew his hand. “I’ve half a mind not to present you with it now.”
Her eyes were sparkling with laughter as she cajoled. “My curiosity is piqued, Rafe, do not keep me in suspense.”
“Very well.” His fingers closed round the tissue wrapped package, withdrawing it a little. “I warn you, it’s but a poor token, not worthy of your splendour.”
As quick as a bird her fingers darted to the package and withdrew it. She laughed when he made to snatch it back, quickly unwrapped it. Her gasp of pleasure was reward enough.
“It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received, Rafe.” Spreading the delicate ivory fan upon her knees she inspected its decoration, exclaiming in astonishment. “This has Ravenswood painted upon it!”
“My grandmother’s work. It was her fan.” Gently, he ran a finger over the surface, closing it. “I thought you would like it.”
“I do indeed.” Gracefully she fanned it open again, to gaze at him over the top. “Thank you, Rafe. Because it must grieve you to part with it, I’ll treasure this gift the more.”
All he could see were her bright eyes slanting towards him. The same hue as
emerald she wore at her throat, they were soft, and luminous with unshed tears. Without thinking, his fingers brushed the fan aside and he leaned forward and gently kissed her. For a moment she was unresponsive, then her mouth seemed to quiver a little and clung to his most sweetly.
Suddenly, she made a small sound in her throat and pushed him away, blushing scarlet. “You should not have...I should not have allowed...” Her eyes were mortified as she gazed at him. “What must you think of me?”
“What must I think of you?” Rafe smiled a little at that. Taking a glass of lemonade from the footman who appeared, he waited until the man had gone before placing it in her hands. “I think you’re an innocent who has just experienced her first kiss, and was frightened by it. Rest assured, it was a kiss from a friend who holds you in high esteem. If I offended you, I most humbly apologise.”
“It was unexpected, that’s all.” Her blush faded a little as she applied a cooling stream of air to her face. After a while her graceful movement slowed and she gave a cat-like grin. “Did you enjoy kissing me, Rafe?”
He felt uncomfortable until he saw the mischief in her eyes. He shrugged slightly, appearing to consider the question. It would not do to admit his enjoyment of it was totally unexpected, even to himself. “As much as one enjoys kissing a frog.”
“A frog!” Indignation chased across her face, then she laughed and struck him lightly with the fan. “You’re an incorrigible rogue, Rafe Daventry.”
“And you’re going to get into trouble with your mama if you do not don your slippers,” he whispered.
Elizabeth had something more on her mind, and she didn’t seem to notice Angelina scrambling into her slippers. “Have you seen Rosabelle? I thought she might have come to visit the fortune-teller.”
“We’ve not seen her, mama.”
“Perhaps she’s in the garden, then. Thomas and William have gone to look for her.”
Remembering Rosabelle’s note, Rafe grinned to himself. Thank God he’d not been tempted to keep the tryst. A dalliance in the pavilion with Rosabelle could have had dire consequences.
Chapter Thirteen
Rosabelle stroked the glittering diamond and ruby pendant the Marquis had placed around her neck. “It’s a most beautiful token, My Lord.”
“Call me George, my pretty.”
She sprang away from the Marquis when his lips brushed her shoulder. “La, sir!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “You must not presume to take liberties with me.”
“Ah, Rosabelle.” George placed his hands over his heart. “I’d give all I possess for a kiss from those lips.”
“All?” Her eyes gleamed when she remembered his wealth. “Be careful I do not hold you fast to those words.”
George was too seasoned a campaigner to let an advantage slip through his fingers. The girl was cocksure of herself, and reckless with wine. Let her think she had the upper hand. Once she was his she’d learn differently.
He smiled, stroking a finger over the plump curve of her rouged mouth. The girl sought to make the most of her attraction, but he liked his women to be bold. He moved his hand to the nape of her neck, drawing her towards him. The resistance he expected was not there. She gazed at him, excitement in her eyes.
“Perhaps I’ll allow you one kiss, George. You’ll not press me for more?”
One kiss was all it took, he discovered. He’d long suspected Rosabelle’s pipkin was begging to be cracked, and he set out to prove it to himself. His lips had barely touched hers when her mouth parted and her tongue moistly sought his. Her immodesty might have shocked another fellow, but it served to excite him. He had no patience with shrinking violets.
She swayed against him with a small sound of satisfaction when his arms came around her. Her breasts thrust against his chest and his response was swift. Gad, she made him feel like a young rake again.
He bore her down amongst the cushions and slipping his hand inside her bodice gently thumbed her erect nubs. She arched against him. Wondering if he dare go any further, he explored the folds of her scarlet skirts, stroking the thighs beneath.
She stiffened for a moment, then gave a tiny gurgling giggle and relaxed. George frowned when his breeches grew tight. Either the girl was too tipsy to know what she was doing, or she was deliberately leading him on. If hadn’t extracted a promise from William not to violate the girl, he could have mounted her without one word of protest. Uttering an oath, he moved away from her.
Rosabelle’s pout registered her displeasure. She enjoyed the power she had over the Marquis, enjoyed his hands on her body, the unrestrained possession of his lips. “Do you find me attractive, George?” she asked,
her voice an enticing whisper.
She smiled as a hot glance raked her body. Light-headed from the wine, her body taunted her with the promise of reckless pleasure. She fluttered her eyelashes, invitingly. “If you want to touch my breasts, I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“You have the heart of a trollop,” George growled, his fingers already unlacing her bodice. Released from their covering her breasts sprang free. He touched his tongue to her nipples.
She groaned, closing her eyes ecstatically.
Hardly able to believe his luck, George eased her skirt up, and was just about to explore what she was clearly offering when the door crashed open and a scandalised voice bellowed.
“Rosabelle, you’ll go to your mother at once! And you, sir, will attend me in study without delay.”
“Papa!” Her eyes widened when she saw his outraged expression. “Gathering her bodice together she gave a mortified sob. “The Marquis attacked me and I fainted.”
“Do not take me for a fool. I have eyes and ears.” Observing the triumphant expression in George’s eyes the earl felt a twinge of sympathy for Rosabelle. “Your behaviour makes it obvious you’re not as adverse to the attentions of the Marquis as you indicated. To keep your reputation intact we shall announce your betrothal tonight. You agree, George?”
George inclined his head. “By all means. I was encouraged to press my suite by Rosabelle’s acceptance of the ball-gown and ruby pendant. You have always known my intentions towards her were honourable.”
So he’d been her secret admirer! Realising she’d been well and truly outsmarted, Rosabelle gave the Marquis a smouldering glance. “You’ll rue this night’s work, sir, just see if you don’t.”
“That’s enough, Rosabelle!” her father barked. “Go this instant. Tell your mother what is arranged. You have yourself to blame if this betrothal is not to your liking. Another man would consider such behaviour highly undesirable in a wife. Consider yourself lucky the Marquis sees fit to overlook it, and is willing to shoulder the blame by offering you the protection of his name.”
Head held high, she gave the two men a cold look as she flounced away. George Northbridge had a shock coming to him if he thought she’d go willingly to his bed, she fumed, all the hate she felt for him coming back. She’d scratch his eyes out first and pickle them in brine.” Her fingers strayed to the pendant.
When she’d gone Thomas turned a stern glance upon George. “You’ve betrayed my trust, and that of an innocent girl.” The earl’s voice was dry when he noticed the state the Marquess was in. If he were truthful, Rosabelle’s innocence seemed questionable now. He sighed. “For God’s sake man, get a grip on yourself. Come to my study in one hour. It will give James and myself time to prepare the settlement papers.”
“Innocent girl?” George muttered as Thomas headed back to the house. “She has morals of an alley cat and will need to be kept on a tight rein.” He was wondering if he had sufficient time to ride into town and visit his favourite whore when William emerged from the shrubbery, pushing a cloak-wrapped figure in front of him.
“This is Ellen” he said without preamble. “She’s Rosabelle’s maid and will do anything you ask. Let’s say five guineas.”
“Five guineas!” the Marquis hissed. “I can buy twenty drabs for that price.”
William smiled a little as he drew the girl into the light of a lantern and removed her cloak. “But do they look like this.”
The girl was clad only in a transparent chemise. Her skin was smooth and firm, her high breasts had been rouged. A jewel sparkled in the enclave of her navel. Her venus mount was as plump as a ripe plum, her furrow modestly covered by a wisp of downy beard. She was a tasty piece.
Absently he scratched himself. “That’s a fancy price you’re charging me for wearing her muff.”
“She’s lain with no one but myself.”
“Is he telling the truth, girl?” The Marquis walked around her, pinching her rear when she didn’t answer.
“Yes, My Lord.” Her voice was slightly slurred and he cocked William an inquiring glance.
“A little brandy. She was reluctant to confer her favours elsewhere.”
The Marquis brought out a purse. He wasn’t about to quibble over price. Carefully, he counted five golden coins into William’s palm then held one up to the girl to see if she could focus on it. “I like a woman who is willing. If you lay with me, this coin will be yours, do you understand? I won’t force you?”
She nodded. Taking that as an affirmative he pushed the girl into the pavilion and followed in after her.
William walked away, the coins jingling in his pocket.
* * * *
Elizabeth was well pleased. The ball had been a success, the announcement of Rosabelle’s betrothal timely, especially when she learned of the origin of the gown. The marriage was scheduled to take place in three months time and she was looking forward to arranging the event.
Another source of pleasure to her was the number of invitations Angelina had received. The dowager Duchess of Amberley had been especially pressing. Her son had been unable to keep his pale blue eyes off Angelina.
The young Duke was of pleasant disposition, even though he hardly uttered a word. He was a trifle plump, his chin was weak and his nose prominent. He seemed likable. It wouldn’t hurt to encourage him to call.
Elizabeth laughed when Angelina said with great seriousness. “The gypsy told me I’d marry my true love.”
Which was what she told every young girl who visited her, Elizabeth thought with a smile as she instructed her maid to brush out her hair. Chances of it happening were rare. Her glance fell on the charm the gypsy had given her in parting.
“Place it under your pillow and your dreams will give you answers,” she urged, gazing directly into Elizabeth’s eyes. They were compelling eyes, their dark centres harbouring pin points of light. Elizabeth’s head swam as the woman continued in a low, murmuring voice. “Amber advises you to do this.”
“The gypsy told me I must place this charm under my pillow,” she said, wondering at the absurdity of it. “What do you think of that?”
“Gypsy charms are mighty powerful, My Lady.” The maid’s expression was a comical mixture of awe and wonder that made Elizabeth smile. “Best to do what she says, else it might turn into a curse upon your person.”
Elizabeth sought to humour the maid. “Very well. I have no wish for my person to be covered with warts when I wake. It would cause tongues to wag at the church service, and take the sinners’ minds of the sermon.”
Despite the charm, Elizabeth’s sleep proved to be dreamless. She forgot about it when she woke and readied herself for church.
The Wrey family filled the front two front pews, whilst the remaining guests occupied seats normally used by the estate workers, obliging them to crowd together at the back.
The villagers turned out in force to see the spectacle of the gentry in their finery. Standing gave them a better view of the whole proceedings. Their ripe, earthy aroma filled the small church. Lavender-scented handkerchiefs were hastily applied to the more fastidious of noses.
The incumbent was delighted at having such a fine congregation and out-did himself with his oratory. Flinging his arms heavenward, he postured and ranted until a crusty old earl grumbled loudly to his neighbour; “Confound the man, did you ever see such a bag of wind? If the bugger doesn’t shut up soon I’ll run him through.”
Amid a gale of laughter the sermon was hastily brought to an end. There was a scuffle as villagers raced from the church to grab the best vantage points amongst the gravestones. There, they commented on the dress and manners of their betters. The crusty earl received a cheer as he emerged, leaning on his cane.
“Be off you scurvy varmints,” the old man yelled, shaking the cane threateningly at them and nearly falling over in the process. “Do you want me to set about you?”
Angelina exchanged a glance with James. The giggles she’d been holding on to during the se
rmon escaped in a gurgle of laughter. James grinned and crossed to her side. “Behave yourself, Angelina. We’re supposed to show a dignified countenance to the villagers.”
“Can’t you imagine that old man waving his sword in the air, and the rector, with his frock held up over his knees running for his life over the fields with the earl after him.”
“I’d rather not.” He chuckled and moved in front of her to hide her wickedly gleeful expression from Elizabeth. “Would you have me get into trouble too?”
“You’re too large and too old to get into trouble.” Sobering a little, she placed a hand on his sleeve. “I’m glad you fell in love with Celine, dearest James. You look so happy together.”
“I’ve never been happier.”
“Then I beg you to talk to mama on my behalf whilst you’re here?” she blurted out. “She seems intent on encouraging suitors.”
“A normal process for young ladies of your age, my dear.”
“But I do not wish to marry until I’m in love.” Her eyes became tragic. “How can mama be set on sending me away when we’ve only just found each other.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.” He put a comforting arm around her shoulder.
“Elizabeth wants only the best for you. If you refuse to meet marriageable men how will you ever fall in love? She will not force you to marry against your will, she told me so herself.”
“If that’s true, why is Rosabelle being forced to wed the Marquis of Northbridge? And why is she confined to her room?”
He took a deep breath, wondering if she should be kept in ignorance of the reason. He couldn’t imagine Angelina acting in such a manner, but the truth might serve to caution her against similar behaviour. “Rosabelle is being punished. Her vanity led her into a compromising assignation with the Marquis. There was no other choice for her after that.”
Her eyes rounded in astonishment, then narrowed as she said quietly. “How can this be? She said she dislikes the Marquis.”