by Gayle Eden
“God in heaven.” Jules just stared at Ry. The man had blood dried in his nose, his one working eye was turning black, and his shirt was stained. “I don’t know which of you is more dangerous to yourself, or to each other.”
Laughing, Ry grabbed his ribs, wincing getting his big boots propped on a stool. “Blaise, certainly. He is so determined to do everything he could when he had sight, he is killing me trying to keep up with him. Horseback riding, fencing, shooting, boxing…”
Jules went over and poured Ry a drink then shoved it in his hands. “Get that eye better before next week. You’re attending a ball.” He went upstairs to check on Blaise.
The sitting room door was ajar. He could see Blaise in the bright room, with every window open to let in light and several lamps blazing. A young valet stood beside his chair with a wash pan, having a towel over his arm. A male he assumed was the doctor, had his hand on Baize’s head, passing what looked like a magnet before his eye.
“How about now?” He was asking.
“Still the same. Like looking through a thick glass. I can see edges, color, but they are skewed. Nothing in the center. But at least it’s some sight.”
The doctor straightened and tossed the magnet in a case. He considered Blaise. “It’s promising, but don’t get your hopes up.” He pat his shoulder. “Could be that piece of shrapnel that came out was pressing on nerves and perhaps now if it heals, more vision will return… but only time will tell.”
He checked the other eye, and Jules, who took off coat and hat, and half sat on a chair arm, heard Blaise say, “No real difference. Just a kind of gray.”
“Hmmm.” The doctor cleaned Blaise’s eyes, muttering about excess bruising because of the blows to them. He admonished. “No more of that. If you must spar, then learn to protect those eyes.”
The doctor finished and closed his bag. Seeing Jules on the way out, he bowed respectfully and Jules nodded.
Walking over to his brother, Jules looked at the knot on Blaise’s brow, a welt on his cheekbone. The other eye was swelled and his lip was split.
“Well, at least you don’t look as bad as Ry.”
“Jules.” Blaise smiled and then winced. He took the towel that the valet held out, a nice wet one, and dabbed at the lip, dismissing the young man next.
“Have a seat.” He invited.
Jules did, seating himself in the chair opposite Blaise while the valet subdued some of the lamplight.
“May I get you anything, your Lordship?” The Valet asked.
Jules attended the young man. “Coffee, for us both.”
“I was thinking more of whiskey,” Blaise muttered.
“No whiskey. You’re already blind, now battered, all we need is for you to fall out a window.”
“Is that humor?” Blaise snorted at him, but his lips smiled as much as he’d let them without it smarting. “I didn’t know you had a sense of it, Stoneleigh.”
“Jules. And I do, though likely more refined than yours.”
“Undoubtedly. Sailors and soldiers excel at genuine wit. Much more than the bores and asses you associate with.”
“Such snobbery, Brother.” Jules drawled dryly.
Blaise grunted, but was grinning dryly as they were served coffee.
After a bit, whilst they drank the coffee, Jules told him of his visit with Raith, and told him what they had talked about, about Stratton, Suzette, and Gabriella.
Blaise murmured, “How do you know the Duke of Coulborne will have this ball?”
“Because that’s what we do when scandal threatens. We carry on as if nothing occurred.” Jules informed him. “Lady Caroline and I have had that end covered, whilst his Grace had Gabriella in the country. And you know, of course, that Raith has been with father.”
“Lady Caroline?”
Jules went on to explain her bloodlines, her reputation, thinking nothing of describing the assets that society so revered her ladyship for, and those traits Bordwyc had reason to be proud of.
“I have known her for years, so it merely confirms or at least implies what the ton already assumes when she and I are seen together. With the ton’s short attention span, any on-dit gets their notice. And there’s nothing like smelling a potential match to do the trick.”
Blaise grimaced behind his cup. “She sounds perfect for you, Stoneleigh. Two paragons of virtue. Should be a long and if not happy—at least flawless, marriage.”
“I have not formally asked for her.”
“Sounded to me, as if her father has given his blessing, in every way that matters. Do not be modest, now. You know very well half the father’s in London would cut off their arms to have you for a son in law.”
Jules grunted. However, he could not deny it. “In any event, I should like you to attend the ball, with myself, father, and Raith. Ry too.”
“I wouldn’t miss it. I gather it is as good as an announcement of your betrothal. Although, don’t expect me to dance with the bride to be.”
Jules laughed but partly in discomfort, because he realized his brother’s summation was correct. Many would expect it. The Duke, certainly.
Blaise murmured more quietly, “Now tell me, what was that err…problem you were wrestling with?”
“I’d rather not.”
“But you will. You are asking me to show up at a society gathering, not just any gathering, but one at the Duke of Coulborn’s. Where your intended, this paragon, Lady Caroline will be. In case you have forgotten, I am blind. I’m giving you warning right now though, if one guest starts to fawn on me with pity—I don’t care if it’s the Duke himself, I’ll—“
“You don’t carry yourself as blind. But some sympathy may be genuine, brother, so get used to it, and get that chip off your shoulder.” Jules set his cup down and stood. He went over to the window and looked down. After a bit, he murmured, “I was being blackmailed.”
“Bloody hell.” Blaise turned his face toward him.
Jules grunted. “Yes. For something…that occurred in university.”
“Hmm. I cannot imagine what you would consider scandal. Caught cheating on your exams? No. I suspect you knew them forwards and backwa—“
“It involved something more intimate. Something that is… a crime…”
Blaise obviously waited.
Jules simply said, “I paid him. I paid him off finally, after I discovered who it was.”
A frown ripped Blaise’s brow. “How could you not know—“
“I was foxed. More than that…I was drugged.”
“Bloody—" Blaise began, but pushed himself up and out of the chair. “You should have just called him out and shot the bloke. For all you are the brain of the litter, brother, I know you to be an expert shot.”
“That too, would have been scandal.”
“You’re bloody joking me? You’d rather—"
Jules cut him off, “It’s over. I paid him a sum this morning.”
“How much?” Blaise went over to get a cheroot. He lit it. When Jules told him, he coughed on the smoke. “The bloody sod!”
Jules grunted. “I would rather you not use that particular expression.”
Blaise snorted with laughter.
Jules endeavored not to be offended. He helped himself to a cheroot, careful to place everything back in its order.
Soon they were both leaning by the window.
In a musing tone, Blaise offered, “I am relieved to hear it was something serious, in one sense. Some of the things your sort consider scandal, is ludicrous, in my opinion. If you think like that, you’ll be paying out for the rest of your bloody life, just because of some mishap or normal human weakness.”
“I do draw the line.” Jules tried humor, but then muttered, “I’d just as soon not have gone through it.”
“No. I’d say not.”
After a bit Jules asked, “Can you see?”
“Only blurred edges. Like the outer rim of a circle. But I’ll take that much.”
Jules looked at h
im as he smoked. His brother was a strong and swarthy man. A handsome one, in his own commanding way. “You would have made bloody admiral.”
“I would have.” Blaise agreed and they chuckled quietly.
After a time, Blaise, intoned, “You’d best warn your intended and the Duke that I’m coming. Ry, with his one eye will be a shock. A fully blind man…”
“He knows of you. As for Caroline, she’s nothing if not polite and she’ll—“
“—Yes, I know. She’ll pretend I’m fully sighted or faint.”
“She won’t faint.”
“Let’s hope not. How much does she weigh? Just in case she falls on me?”
“Caroline is …she’s attractive and well formed, in a delicate sense.”
“Scrawny, eh.” Blaise jested.
“No. But speaking of Lady Caroline. I must go. We are to the theater tonight.
After he put out the cheroot, Blaise walked with him out and down to the foyer. Ry was snoring in the sitting room still.
Having his coat and hat on, Jules asked, “Have you something formal to wear?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Very well. It would not hurt if you went to see father and Raith before then. Perhaps have dinner with them, you, and Ry.”
Standing in the doorway, before Jules got in his coach, Blaise said dryly, “I’ll consider that. I suggest you choose Raith to stand up for you at your wedding….”
“Nothing is—“
“Yes, yes, I know. Formalities.” Blaise grunted and waved him off.
Jules sat back as the coach pulled out. He really must do some thinking before he collected Caroline.
She and Harry were friends. He and Harry were…
He muttered a curse and checked his pocket watch. He had little time to spare. Damn it all. He had gotten one problem taken care of. This, one was a bit more complicated. Of course, he had no clue for the first time in a long time, exactly how he intended to solve it.
Five days later
Gabriella and Lady Caroline were making the rounds in the shopping districts. Gabriella had dressed in subdued pewter hues, her wide hat having a fluttering veil. It was impossible for her not to draw some stares, because of her full figure, and the long spirals of her richly hued hair tumbling down her back. Not to mention everyone knew Caroline, and seemed to be making a point of waving and nodding, curious about the pair of them.
Caroline complimented her perfectly in a blue/green suit and velvet hat perched on her strawberry curls. She was only half attending what was going on around her. Yes. Gabriella did notice Caroline’s preoccupation. She was making too much effort to be chatty and upbeat, yet she seemed to keep losing track of what she was “chatty” about...
When they were having tea, between shopping, Gabriella sat back, listening to her talk about some play, having repeated the same thing three times, and watching her look around whilst doing so.
“What is wrong, Caroline?”
Those blue eyes turned to her. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I mean, something is troubling you.” Gabriella reached her gloved hand over and touched her hand. “You know much about my life. I’ve no pretenses, and don’t intend to foster any—above what will keep scandal from you and father. You can tell me anything. I’m not easy to shock.”
Caroline dropped her wide-eyed smile, and looked down at her cup a moment, sighing. When she glanced up, Gabriella saw a completely different woman, a more serious, anxious expression in those eyes.
She murmured, “I hardly know where to begin. The short of it is, I am living a duel life. Me, Lady Caroline Bordwyc, the immaculate deb of the ton. It is about to end. And not, in a way that I want it to. Although, I don’t have a clue how to survive any other way than this.” Her hand swept around. “I can’t displease my father, can I? Everyone knows me, or thinks they do. Everyone thinks I am biddable and perfect and….maybe I was, until I met him.”
“Him?” Gabriella was trying to follow her ramble.
“My Captain. My…”
Staring at her Gabriella said, “Although I haven’t met Raith’s brother, the Earl, formally, I’ve known of him. Everyone does. I know Stoneleigh has been escorting you everywhere. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes. We are perfect for each other. Everyone says so. I used to say so. My father thinks so, and up until I met the man I…God. It is such a tangle. I cannot even think of how to…or what… I can do.”
“Does Stoneleigh care for you?”
Caroline’s brow went up. “I’ve no idea beyond the roles we play. It would be considered vulgar by society if he showed any…passion, for me in public. We are always under the eye of the ton. And even when we are not, Stoneleigh is nothing if not aloof and cool.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Since I was about 13 years of age. Our father began bringing me out now and then, to society parties and country gatherings.”
“And this Captain?”
“It just—happened.” Caroline bit her lip, her eyes full of emotions. “I met him, ran into him actually—and it changed everything, me, how I thought of life, my future. Which I had always known was planned for me. I had no objection, because I’d never met him…”
Caroline cradled the cup. “I haven’t been able to see him thanks to this hectic schedule. I don’t know what he thinks of my sudden absence in his life.” She sighed. “I haven’t told him who I am. I do not know much of him either, beyond what he makes me feel. What we feel, together. I do not….didn’t—want him to know who I am. The fact that I am wealthy, that I am a Duke’s daughter. I did not want that to influence… anything. My whole life, my world, is filled with people who care for nothing but that. This is different.”
“I can see that.” Gabriella could. “It is obvious to me you care for him a great deal. I understand the world you live in, even if I have not been in it. I know, because your—our—father spoke of you, the image and reputation you have. I had no idea it made you this unhappy.”
“It didn’t, so long as my heart and soul were mine,” Caroline confessed softly. “It didn’t take a moment, just a look at him, and it was as if I’d met the other half of me that I didn’t know I was missing.”
There was a silence between them. Then, making a decision, Gabriella murmured, “I have certainly been shopping for myself for many years. I can manage quite well to finish, If you’d like to go to him now.…”
Putting the cup down with a click, Caroline reached for her hand this time. “Could you? Oh, Gabriella…I have been so frantic, so sick and worried. I…cannot survive this other life…if I don’t have….”
“—Of course. Go. I will take my time. Be back before the shops all close.” She smiled. “And Caroline?”
“Yes.”
“If he loves you, it won’t matter who you are.”
However, Caroline stood. Her eyes filled with cynical sadness. “I would hope not, too. However, I am afraid to find out. The illusion…perhaps, that is all I will ever have. It is better than anything else in my future. Thank you for this, Gabriella, it may be the last time I see him, ever.”
After she had gone, Gabriella sat there pondering Caroline’s confession. It was certainly enlightening. It certainly made her seem more…human.
Eventually Gabriella went back to the shops. She ordered a ball gown, a very special one for her father’s birthday. He had assured her there would be a very rare chance, she would be recognized as her former self. Although she did not care for her own sake, Gabriella did have a care for his. She could imagine how everyone would stare at her dusky skin and obvious exotic looks, and though they would be polite for his Grace’s sake, she was skeptical that anyone would believe she was a cousin. Yes, someone intimate with David would see a hint of him in her. However, Gabriella intended to give her father and Caroline the limelight. She would attend for him, but she would be inconspicuous.
As to Caroline—although now she was worried about her half-sister, th
ey might not be extremely close yet, but she could feel Caroline’s struggle and understood it. Caroline was expected to marry well. Stoneleigh was the prize. It was the way of their world. She did not envy anyone that kind of union or life.
The ball gown Gabriella had done was in deep multi hues, sewed with gold and silver thread. A straight taffeta sheath, with a fuller outer skirt of solid rippling wine silk, decorated with beaded birds. Her gloves would have the same theme embroidered. It was a private, personal, celebration of her mother’s life, in a sense—a marking of her own freedom too, from ghosts of the past.
The rest of her wardrobe, the walking dresses, gowns and habits, more leisure carriage coats and capes, were still done all in rich jewel tones. Cut to flatter her fully curved figure. Gabriella had her own dash and flair and it was apparent that the dressmakers agreed. From stockings to chemises and hats, they eagerly designed to flatter her.
While sifting through colorful silk shawls, she had a mental flash of those childhood years with her mother at the theater. Gabriella found one that reminded her of Natasha and held it to her face. It felt good to think of her without sadness and pain. It felt freeing.
Finished her shopping, exiting, she spied Caroline just getting out of a hack. Her half-sister looked not as she expected—glowing and floating from an hour with her lover. She looked shaken, pale, and weak.
Taking her arm, she steered her to the coach, and after they climbed in, studied Caroline’s red-rimmed eyes. “What happened?”
“He wasn’t there. Not in the coffee shop, nor his house.” Caroline had her elbow on the window ledge, looking out with her fingers pressed to her lips a moment. “His butler said he had gone to visit his father…”
Gabriella waited, sensing more just from the stark white of Caroline’s face—and the way she pressed her other hand to her stomach.
“I broke my rule of not asking questions, and enquired who his father might be?” Caroline turned those dread filled blue eyes on her. “He said, why my lady, did you not know that Viscount Roche is the son of his Grace, Duke of Eastland.”