Then she came to the wide landing where many more of the guests were mingling, watching the dancers come and go in the hall below.
Caroline was there and Elisa felt herself smile in genuine relief. With Caroline, she could be assured at least some pleasant company and an absence of cattiness.
But the moment Caroline saw her, she started and her eyes widened. Elisa began to cross the room towards her, but Caroline picked up her skirts. Her face was stony, utterly unforgiving and Elisa halted where she was. She had seen that expression too many times to misinterpret it. Someone had acquainted Caroline with Elisa’s past misdeeds.
Elisa could feel herself begin to tremble and she looked around, wondering where she might turn and hide, if there was any sanctuary to run to.
That was when she saw the satisfied smile of the Duchess of Wessex, who stood slowly waving her fan from side to side. Cynthia let her smile broaden, then picked up her train and with a disdainful flick of the black lace, turned and walked away.
Elisa felt as if a hammer had hit her in the stomach. She had not expected such overt hostility—in truth, she had forgotten how truly cruel people could be and it had caught her unprepared.
How many people had the Duchess favored with the tidbits about her life? Then she remembered the rippling tide of rumor sweeping down the hall in front of her and had her answer.
Everyone knew.
With legs that felt like lead, Elisa walked to the top of the stairs, preparing to climb down and find Rufus, as a proper wife would. She had paused at the top, trying to scrape together her courage, as well as simply find the strength to descend the steps.
Finally, she took a step down and then another. Then it became easier. She avoided looking directly at anyone and walked straight over to the ballroom. She sighted Rufus and an empty chair by his side and walked over to it. Gratefully, she sank onto the seat and swore she would stay there and speak to no one until she could safely excuse herself and hide away in her room once more.
Until she saw Vaughn with his arm around Natasha and his keen-eyed glance at the group of women by the fireplace, where the Duchess of Wessex was holding court.
She suddenly yearned for the sanctuary of Fairleigh Hall. She was safe there. She was hidden from the rest of the world. And once she made it back, she would never risk emerging again.
Someone cleared his throat and when Elisa looked up she found Vaughn standing before her. Her heart lurched. How handsome he looked tonight in his formal attire. The black suit and white shirt had been perfectly tailored, fitting him like a second skin. The jacket served to emphasize the wide expanse of his shoulders. The breeches clung to his muscular long legs.
Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air.
“May I have the honor?” he asked, extending his hand.
Sheer gratitude outweighed her reluctance to cause a spectacle. Vaughn had not abandoned her, after all.
Rufus, who had been busy talking, now stopped and tapped his cane on the floor. “There is a young lady who is vying for your attention, boy. Why do you bother wasting time on your stepmother?”
Vaughn turned to his father, his expression unreadable. Elisa prayed he did not comment about Rufus’ use of the word stepmother, as though they were already married.
“I’ve danced with Natasha and now I’d like to dance with my future stepmother.” He turned back to her. “Please dance with me?”
Though her better judgment was telling her to say no, she took his hand. She all but floated out on the dance floor and when he held her in his arms, she wanted only to get closer. She wanted to feel the beat of his heart against her own. In this room full of strangers and people who disliked her, he was the only one who acknowledged her. But rather than cling to him as she wanted to, she kept a careful distance, every nerve on edge.
“You look stunning tonight.” His voice was cautiously low.
Elisa glanced up into his handsome face. His eyes were dark with some hidden emotion, but his smile was warm. “Thank you.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. It had a hard edge to it. “I’d rather be anywhere but here.”
He frowned and she wished she could take the words back. “I mean the ball, not here, this moment,” she said quickly.
“I know what you meant,” he said quietly, and his firm tone reassured her. Then he hadn’t missed her glance at the Duchess of Wessex and her chorus.
Elisa couldn’t help but glance at them again. Of course, they were openly ogling her as she dared to dance with a man. It wouldn’t matter that he was, in theory, her stepson. They would pounce on the fact that he was handsome and single and it would be noticed that she enjoyed herself and danced much too energetically.
She tried to look away, but her gaze kept pulling back to the fireplace.
“You’re frowning, sweet Elisa.”
She forced a smile and looked at his necktie—a neutral view that would not give away her true thoughts.
But Vaughn appeared to read her mind. Very quietly, he swore and the curse made her look back at his face, surprised.
He shook his head a little, a furrow between his brows.
“Let them talk,” he said, his tone harsh. “Let them wonder. I can assure you I’m not the first son who ever danced with his father’s fiancée.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes, it is. It’s just that easy. Do you really care what they think, Elisa? Do you think Rufus cares?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“What could their vicious words do that could possibly harm you?” he asked reasonably.
Because their vicious words took away her son. The truth was so close to bubbling out of her mouth, but she held it back. “You are right,” she told Vaughn, managing a shaky smile. “I’m being silly.”
His sharp look and the shrewd narrowing of his eyes told her he had seen past her airy acknowledgement, but she kept her smile firmly in place. He did not pursue the matter, although he became quiet after that.
The music stopped and Elisa knew this would be her one and only dance with Vaughn tonight. To dare to take another would only cause speculation and Rufus would never let her forget it.
“Thank you, Elisa,” Vaughn said stiffly, bowing over her hand as he sat her back on her chair.
He turned away and was instantly surrounded by people clamoring for his attention, including Natasha and a good handful of young misses.
Elisa smiled, but she was screaming inside.
Nearly an hour passed when Rufus stood and turned to her. He extended his arm. “Let us partake of the fresh air on the terrace.” It was the first time he had looked at her or spoken to her directly since she had sat on the chair.
But Elisa wanted nothing more than to escape the stifling room. She made eye contact with no one, focusing instead on the double doors that beckoned.
Would this excursion outside mean Rufus would want to retire soon? Or perhaps he would sit in for a card game and give her license to retire for the evening.
Rufus opened the door and motioned her out on the terrace. She breathed deeply of the cool air, hoping it would take the burning from her cheeks. Rufus led her to the low stone balustrade.
Familiar laughter came from nearby.
Elisa’s heart jumped a little. That was Vaughn’s laugh, the low, intimate chuckle she heard only when she was in his arms.
She peered into the dark, trying to see through shadows. At the far end of the terrace, where wisteria hung in fragrant, discrete bowers, a couple stood locked in a lovers’ embrace.
Her pulse jumped. The height of the man, the width of his shoulders, was unmistakable.
It was Vaughn.
The woman’s arms were entwined around his neck, her face lifted up to his. Natasha. Had she already been kissed, or was she yearning for her first? Vaughn’s hands were about her waist, the strong hands and long fingers that had smoothed their way along El
isa’s body just the other night.
A sickly hot wave passed through her, leaving her dizzy and nauseous. Her heart thudded unevenly and for a moment her sight seemed to fade. The emotions that wrenched at her were far too extreme to be called simple jealousy. She felt betrayed in the most intimate way possible and she had absolutely no recourse.
She swallowed against the sickness and tried to keep her irregular pulse even and her breathing calm.
“Look, my dear, we’ve interrupted young lovers!” Rufus said loudly.
Natasha quickly pushed away from Vaughn and stood with her head down, shamed. Vaughn immediately stepped into the light, away from Natasha and it seemed to Elisa, a little in front of her. Protecting her? His expression was vexed. He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair.
Natasha was protesting her innocence. “Lord Wardell, I needed a breath of fresh air and Vaughn was good enough to—”
“Assist you?” Rufus finished for her, a wide smile on his face. “You should go back inside before speculation runs rampant.” Rufus sneered at his son. “Unless, of course, that is what you want.”
It was then Elisa realized that Rufus had wanted her to see Vaughn’s arms around another woman. He wanted her to know she would never be anything to Vaughn, that he would one day marry someone younger, more suitable, and…more beautiful.
“My father is right,” Vaughn murmured, extending his arm to Natasha. The young woman, with considerable poise, took his arm and allowed him to lead her past Elisa and Rufus without another word.
Elisa watched them return to the ballroom, unable to dissemble and hide her feelings, unable to think beyond the pain of Vaughn’s betrayal.
Rufus stepped back to her side. “The young are so careless.” He put his hand at the middle of her back. “How typically selfish of Vaughn to fail to consider the consequences of kissing a pure girl right under her father’s roof.”
Elisa’s throat was so tight she could do nothing but nod in agreement. Could Rufus see absolutely everything in her face? Surely he must!
“Shall we return to the party?” Rufus asked, already pulling her along.
“Must we?” She wanted nothing more than to escape to her room. The idea of returning back to the den of those vultures straight after Vaughn’s duplicity was too much to bear.
Rufus’ hand tightened on her. “You will get in there and face them,” he snarled, his voice low. “D’you think I dragged you here just to have you duck out when the water got too hot?”
Elisa felt her jaw sag. “Rufus, I don’t understand. What…?”
He pushed her from behind, his hand on her back. “Get in there, I tell you. You will sit there on that chair and take every single slight and insult they choose to give you. You deserve every single one of them, woman. I don’t want you moving from that room until you remember how much of a harlot you are, dressed up in your whore’s finery.”
“Rufus!” She felt herself resisting his hand, sick horror bursting through her. This had been his plan. This was his retribution.
He smacked her between the shoulder blades, hard. The slap cracked like a gunshot on the open terrace but would not be heard inside because of the music and chatter.
The whole of Elisa’s chest went instantly numb and at the same time felt like it was on fire. She gasped for breath.
“Get inside!” Rufus snarled. “Get in there and remember who it is that gives you a safe bolthole away from all this. Remember that I am the only one who would give you shelter…the only one who cares that you get your son back.”
She stumbled inside, dazed and sick with horror, the world tilted and spinning around her. Nothing was as it seemed.
Not even Vaughn.
* * * * *
As soon as it was humanly possible to disengage from the ball without giving offense, Vaughn walked Natasha to her chamber and gave her a chaste kiss on the temple as a good night offering. He knew she would have invited him inside if he had given her any opportunity or encouragement to do so, but he had ducked that issue with bloody-minded ruthlessness. The last thing he wanted was to be delayed any longer from finding Elisa and talking to her. It was already well past midnight and many of the guests had departed already. Elisa and Rufus had left for their separate chambers long ago.
He cursed cruel fate. What had possessed Natasha to attempt her clumsy seduction tonight of all nights? Well, perhaps it was understandable if one considered both Caroline’s and William’s veiled approval of the match. Perhaps Caroline had even coached the girl on the finer points of catching a man. From all accounts, Caroline had managed to keep a string of beaus panting for her during her glorious debutante season.
Elisa’s ill-fated arrival on the scene, however, was no mystery. He’d only taken one look at the delight on Rufus’ face to know the cause.
Both those points needed to be explained to her. He had not failed to notice the way her face had blanched and her hands had begun to tremble as he’d disentangled himself from Natasha’s clinging arms. After Elisa’s evening of fielding barbs and insults, she did not need to be left believing he was the one who had engineered the intimate moment on the terrace with Natasha.
He reached Elisa’s door and looked around. No one was in sight. Quickly, he tried the handle. It turned.
Relieved, he opened the door and slipped inside.
A flickering candle cast a glow upon her sleeping form. He approached, his relief fading as he took in the sight of her. Her pale hair spilled against the pillow, free and abandoned. Her lips were slightly open and pink, full and inviting. Her dark lashes, spiked from tears, cast shadows against her high cheekbones.
His stomach tightened. Had he made her cry?
Wondering what she dreamed about, he reached out and lightly ran the back of his fingers along her soft jaw, his thumb grazing her full bottom lip.
She sighed and turned her head, exposing her swanlike neck to his gaze, which shifted lower to breasts that were barely covered by the soft, white silk nightgown. The decadent fabric’s dull luster and the way it clung to her breasts, outlining them, caused his breath to catch. He could imagine the feel of the gown under his hand and the soft breast beneath…
Blood flowed to his groin, filling his cock until it throbbed. He’d had an older woman before, an instructor of French who had showed him the true meaning of a few exotic words. It had been an exciting time in his life, an affair he’d wanted to continue, even though he knew their situation and her marriage had made it impossible. He suspected, though, that Elisa could eclipse the pleasure she’d displayed entirely.
“Vaughn?”
The word was said so softly that at first he thought he’d imagined it. Then he looked up to find himself staring into blue eyes wide with surprise. “What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the sheet up to her chin.
He sat down beside her, the bed dipping beneath his weight. “I wanted to see you before I went to sleep.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t get to spend any time with you tonight.”
She frowned. “We danced.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t enough.”
“You appeared to be adequately occupied elsewhere,” she said, her voice little above a whisper.
“I like your gown,” he said, pulling the sheet down with one hand while his fingers grazed the neckline of her gown, making sure to stroke more of her skin than the material. He could barely contain himself to that single caress.
Her breath left her in a rush. “Vaughn…”
“Shhh,” he said, putting a finger to her lips. “I wanted you to know—on the terrace tonight…that was Natasha’s doing.”
She shook her head. “Natasha is a child. She knows nothing of what men desire. How could she have known what to do?”
“Every maid dreams of being kissed. That is all she thought to achieve, I suspect. Unlike you, my sweet Elisa. You know what a man needs.” He could feel his throat closing down on him, excitement making his voice hoarse.
<
br /> Her eyes widened in surprise. “You shouldn’t be here.” She sat up against the headboard and crossed her arms beneath her chest. He wondered if she realized it emphasized the fullness of her breasts even more. “I cannot imagine what would happen if you were caught in here. Marianne will be coming to check on me.”
“You brought her with you?” he asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice.
“Yes, so you must go at once.”
But he could not leave it at that, with his whole body throbbing with need, not when he was alone with her for the first time in days.
He leaned forward and kissed the top of each creamy breast.
She froze and the pulse in her neck quickened.
“Dear, sweet Elisa, you smell so good…god, how I want to bury myself deep inside you.”
She released a ragged breath, but did not push him away.
He kissed a path from her breast to the place in her neck where her pulse raced wildly. There he caressed her skin with his tongue. With his other hand, he stroked her breast through the delicate silk and felt the nipple grow tight and hard beneath his fingertips. Her breath came still more rapidly.
He felt her surrender, even before her fingers threaded through his hair.
“God forgive me,” she whispered, pulling his face up to meet hers.
Chapter Twelve
Elisa woke to the sound of a horrified gasp.
She opened her eyes to find Marianne standing over her, a frown marring her wrinkled face. “My lady, what have you done?”
Elisa’s heart pounded as she looked beside her. She gasped, for Vaughn lay there, his eyes closed, ridiculously long lashes fanned against sculpted cheekbones. Even in sleep he was irresistibly handsome.
Her gasp must have roused him, for his eyes opened slowly. “Good morning.” His voice sleepy and his smile completely oblivious to the fact he had just been discovered in his father’s fiancée’s bed.
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