Chapter 13
Bess
Levi had stolen the Holy Order chalice from me, but in all of the chaos that had transpired following his betrayal, I had not noticed it missing until after the race. It had been lying on my dressing table from where I meant to give it to Sam. Char had told me that on Sunday Levi had gone into my chamber to retrieve something, before the fight at Gideon’s, before he ran off to join Guinevere.
All of the other artifacts were still where I had hidden them under a loose floor board, but the chalice had been on my dressing table as I had planned to give it to Sam. It was as if all of the years of protecting each other, loving each other as family does, had meant nothing to him. Levi had left his family to join the Holy Order, and the betrayal caused a rift in my heart.
When it came time to dress for Sam’s ball, I had second thoughts. I was in no mood for a party. After the fight in the warehouse, Sam had gone back to the crowd to oversee the remainder of the race, and Jack had escorted me to Rose’s house.
Sam had not spoken to me again since Jack had caught me when I was trying to attack Sam from behind. The man could spark a flame of fury within me with a look only, causing all of my common sense to fly away, leaving a mess of emotions that deprived me of my peace. I did not want him to see me as helpless, and that was how I had taken his interference in my fight against the man in the warehouse. My mother told me time and again that I was born with a will of iron. After the events of the last year, I realized I did not want a gallant knight to come to my rescue. I wanted a partner who would fight beside me, who would have faith in my abilities, and who would know, that though I could hold my own in a battle, I still needed him beside me to win the war.
A part of me did not want the horrible fluttering in my stomach that made me nearly sick with want; the mixture of hot and cold sensations that covered me when he came near. A brush of his hand, standing toe to toe battling out our differences, or, as he liked to do, a whisper against my ear, transformed my rational mind into a ridiculous pool of stupid.
I liked Sam, and admitting that to myself had been the first step in thawing my frozen heart. Andrew had left me a bitter mess, but Sam was quickly picking up the pieces of my shattered dreams. Even though I told myself Sam had no place in my future, I could not deny that he was forging my shattered dreams into a new picture.
Rose came in dressed in a gown of silver gauze over a slip of celestial blue. Her upswept hair had tiny crystal pins that stuck out of her curls, giving her the appearance of wearing a crown. Her blue eyes were full of excitement, until she noticed that I was not yet dressed, and she frowned. Mrs. Beaumont was standing near the wardrobe with her arms crossed over her small bosom and a scowl marring her face. We had been arguing about my decision not to attend the ball. An evening of watching Sam dance attendance upon the belles of Charleston would try my temper that was on the verge of an explosion after the trials brought on by the Holy Order.
Rose gently lifted my gown off the bed and carried it toward me. She set to the task of helping me into the gown, ignoring my protests. She was in a mood that would brook no arguments.
As my hair had been arranged earlier, all I was missing was the dress. It was an ivory gown over a slip of rose silk. Sheer sleeves ended above the elbows with embroidered lace cuffs. A sweeping train followed behind me as I walked. Mrs. Beaumont helped me put on my ivory gloves and matching ivory slippers.
Rose stepped back to survey me decisively, tapping one gloved finger against her mouth.
“Perfect,” she said, smiling at me.
We were in the carriage on the short drive to Sam’s house, when my first attack of panic set in. Forcing myself to breathe in and out, I felt a hand on mine and turned to look at Rose. She pressed my hand in a reassuring gesture and released me. She was on my side.
The front gate to Sam’s house was open, and people were everywhere. Most were on foot, and a few of the more wealthy people arrived in carriages. When the door opened, a footman was there to help us down.
The progression into Sam’s house was slow, as there were dozens of people trying to get inside. As I was taller than most of the women present, I was able to see Sam. He was standing near the wide staircase laughing with one of his guests. As Sam’s gray eyes glanced toward the door, his gaze met mine. His laughter ceased, but his smile remained. For me, all other noises faded away under his intense gaze. There was something new in that smile that had never been there before—an intimacy that left me unsteady. His attention was pulled away, and Rose again took my hand. I smiled my thanks, since I would not have moved if not for the pressure of her hand.
Charlotte was standing beside Sam looking adorable in white sprigged muslin and white roses decorating her hair.
Sam greeted Rose first, giving her his full attention for a moment before looking at me. His gaze started at my feet, running up from there. When his stormy eyes met mine, that intensity from when we first met was returned, sending my heart skittering like a pair of wild horses. I held out my hand to him, pleased that it did not tremble. Instead of shaking my hand, he pulled it to his lips.
“I am looking forward to our dance, Miss Martin.” His voice lowered as he leaned toward me. I could not look away. “Only duty restrains me from claiming the first. Be sure that I will claim my dance as soon as I am able.”
My mouth refused to form words, so I nodded. As I followed Rose to the back of the house, tingles danced along my spine and arms, as if Sam’s eyes were on me. At the double doors that lead to a ballroom that I had not known existed, I glanced over my shoulder. He was still at the stairs, but he had turned and was watching me as I felt he was. He did not smile, but one covert eyelid slipped down in his roguish wink. Unable to help it, I smiled.
The ballroom was a rectangular shaped room with twin chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Every wall in the room was a painting. It was a large painted garden, and the ceiling was the sky. Breathtaking.
Rose clasped my hand with a warm smile in her lovely eyes and pulled me further into the room. She told me that she would introduce me to everyone since I did not know anyone. By everyone, I should have known that she meant men. With Rose being a wealthy widow, she knew all the young men of means. As she made introductions they were handsome or personable, some both, but none compared to our host.
My hand was solicited five times in as many minutes, but the first dance had been claimed days before.
When Sam entered the room to open the dance, Lucas Marx appeared at my side. I had not noticed his arrival. With a bow and a flourishing compliment, he swept me onto the floor. Lucas drew me into conversation whenever the dance permitted, making me laugh a few times. He was handsome, in a foreign way, and he was companionable, but he was not the man who made my heart beat anew.
After the fifth dance, the room was hot, and I was standing near one of the large windows that overlooked the garden, fanning myself slowly. Painfully aware of Sam’s movements, I had watched his every dance with a fiery jealousy that I could not overcome. I told myself that I had no claim on him or his attention. He was a wealthy man who owned many holdings in Charleston. Sam was used to the attentions of women. That would not change only because he and I shared a few passionate moments; some of which I was dressed like a man and covered in dirt. I was a fool to be harboring any romantic feelings toward him. He had all the unattached women in Charleston vying for him. He could have any one of them.
Why then has he not married?
Charlotte appeared before me on the arm of a man I had never before met, but had seen at the race. His family’s plantation had sponsored the winning ship. “Miss Martin, allow me to present Mr. Drayton, a friend of Sam’s.”
Mr. Drayton and I exchanged greetings. “I hear your family owns a plantation in Savannah, Miss Martin.”
“Yes sir. I have not been there in many years, but I long to see it again. I enjoyed the life there so much more than living in town.”
He told me about his family’s p
lantation and his father, who rarely went into society. In turn, I told him about my family’s rice plantation that had sadly never grown into a large production. With my father more interested in the Phantoms, he had never expanded the land. The farmers who still tended our land put out a good crop, but it was weather permitting and not nearly large enough to have paid for all of my mother’s expenses. It was providential for my family last year that she had two ships that made a fortune during the war. If not for those ships, we would have lost everything.
“Talking business at a party, Charles?” Sam asked Mr. Drayton, as he came up beside me.
“Peace to be found on the land, Sam. You should bring Miss Martin to the house one day. Father would be delighted with her knowledge of the land.”
Sam opened his mouth to say something, but I spoke first. “We should be delighted, Mr. Drayton. Plantation life intrigues me.”
As a new dance was about to begin, Sam looked down at me.
“My dance, I believe.”
Tingles moved down my arms and into my fingers as Sam took my hand and led me to the first place in the line of dancers. His thick hair was artfully thrown back and fell in wavy goodness down his neck. After his intense eyes, I loved his hair the most. Every time I saw it, I had to fight the urge to wrap his curls around my fingers.
We neither spoke for the first part of the dance, but Sam’s eyes only left my face when we had to separate in the country dance. When his hand grazed my waist, a jolt shot through me, down my legs and up my arms, making me all too aware of the man before me. I looked up into his gray eyes that were like heat, warming the very depths of me.
Seeing Charlotte and Rose watching us with smiles on their faces, caused me to notice that others were watching us, as well. Sam knew how to make himself agreeable, and if the dagger looks that were being cast my way were any indication, he had made himself agreeable to more than one woman in the room. I frowned, though unintentionally.
“What is the matter, Bess?”
Pulling my gaze away from the women glaring at me, I looked up into his eyes. Eyes filled with concern.
“I owe you an apology, Mr. Mason.”
His smile was lopsided as he said, “Shall we call it all forgiven and begin again, Miss Martin?”
“I would like that,” I replied, returning his smile. His gaze narrowed on my mouth, and I had to look away.
How I wish I had not. If only I had remained focused on Sam, I would not have looked toward the open doors.
Standing on the threshold, his eyes fixed on me, was Andrew.
Gasping, my insides were surely on fire. Grief, alarm, embarrassment, and anger all slammed against my ribs, bouncing as if trying to find an escape. Our steps turned us away, but I looked over my shoulder. There was a beautiful brunette clutching his arm. The look she was giving him, oh, how I understood that look. He was whispering in her ear.
Sam was staring at me; no doubt he could feel me as stiff as a rod. “What is amiss? Your whole being has tensed perceptibly.”
I could not tell him. My mortification was coming to the fore. I said not a word, but waited for the dance to end. When the music faded, he led me off the floor and without his comprehension, straight to Andrew.
Sam smiled as he saw who was standing by the door, and he went forward, greeting the woman on Andrew’s arm.
She embraced him fondly saying, “Cousin, allow me to present my betrothed. Mr. Andrew Madison.”
The room started to spin, but I could not move. My feet were stuck in place. After a moment, my shock gave way to outrage.
Betrothed!
I knew I was going to be sick; I could feel it rising up my throat. Sam’s face did not tell of his incredulity, but I knew by the tense line in which he was holding himself. He turned to where I stood a few steps behind him and my breath caught at the fury in his gray eyes. My eyes pleaded with him not to say anything. My humiliation would be known soon enough without Sam adding a brawl in the ballroom to my shame. He turned back toward Andrew.
“This is news indeed. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Madison.” He shook Andrew’s hand. I saw Andrew wince, and when Sam released his hand, he shook it out at his side. That almost brought a smile to my lips, but Andrew’s gaze landed on me before immediately looking away.
Sam took my hand and brought me to stand at his side. His arm wrapped around my back, his hand resting on my side above my waist. “Anne, this is Miss Elizabeth Martin, a friend of mine. Bess, darling, this is my cousin Anne Crawford.” I pulled against the hand that was holding me against him, but he squeezed my side slightly. He was trying to help me, but I did not want or need his help.
“Oh, are you and she betrothed?”
“Yes,” he said with perfect composure, and my widening gaze shot to his.
He was smirking at Andrew, then smiled too intimately down at me. The urge to strike him was strong. He had told her we were betrothed...in the middle of his crowded ballroom. My heart would surely explode from all of the pressure building; I needed to escape, quickly. But, immediate escape proved impossible.
A group of women had overheard Sam’s thoughtless remark and descended upon us to bombard us with congratulations. Within a minute everyone within hearing knew what had been said, and within fifteen, the whole of the house would know.
Women were curious as to how and when it had happened, why we kept it a secret, and men were shaking Sam’s hand, casting knowing smiles and raised eyebrows at the two of us. I wanted to scream, but I bit down on my lip to keep the anger inside. What Sam had done, placing me in such a predicament, was unpardonable.
As I looked around for a form of help all I saw was Anne and Andrew. It was evident that she had no notion of who I was or my past relationship with Andrew. Obviously, he had a partiality for tall brunettes with brown eyes.
“Bess!” came an exuberant shriek from behind as Charlotte came tripping toward me. She fell against me as she threw her arms around me. “I knew it! I knew you and he—”
“Char, dear, have you yet spoken with your cousin?” I asked, directing her attention to Anne.
Char squealed as she hugged her cousin. Miss Anne Crawford began making the introductions between Char and Andrew. I closed my eyes as Charlotte’s elation by the news hurt my ears. The cord that had been holding me together, snapped.
Escape was all I thought about as I pushed through the people standing in the doorway, moving through the foyer, watchful eyes everywhere I turned. Sam’s book room was the only room empty of people. Opening one of the windows, I stepped out into the cool night air. The garden was not lit, but the light from the windows made it bright enough to see part of the garden, and the rest of the way was made by instinct.
Once seated on the stone bench and closing my eyes, I wished it all away—that I had not attended the ball. It may have been cowardice to feel that way, but I did not care. Seeing Andrew again hurt, but it was what Sam had done that caused pain worse than being branded; like stingers stuck in my heart that I could not remove. An angry sob shook my body, and I covered my face with my hands. It did not bring tears, but the desire to scream, to throw things, to run back into the ballroom and first hit Andrew, then Sam.
A few minutes passed before someone came to find me. I was hidden from sight, as the light from the windows did not reach the back wall, but I could see him perfectly. He was tall, elegant, and still as striking as when I had first met him. His hair was pomaded back, something I had never seen him do, and it added a severity to his face. His jaw was as determined as ever as he looked around the garden.
“Elizabeth?”
My anger propelled me to stand and walk toward him. As soon as I stepped into the light he halted, staring at me. He did not even have the grace to look ashamed.
“You look beautiful, Elizabeth,” he said.
I gaped at him. I looked beautiful? Beautiful? Did he have a wish for death? Because the mood I was in, I might have obliged him.
“What
are you doing here?” he asked.
“I live here,” I replied, tilting my chin up further.
“Here? With him?”
What did he think I was! “Charleston, Andrew, I live in Charleston,” I said through clenched teeth.
He sighed as if relieved, and I wanted to strike him. “I must admit that I am in a puzzle as to how you are betrothed to Anne’s cousin.”
“Why? Because he is an honorable member society? Perhaps you think everyone in society judges without facts.”
Andrew winced. “I saw your mother after we—”
“You mean after you ended our betrothal in a letter?”
“Elizabeth, please do not be like that.”
“How do you expect me to be, Andrew? You accused me of murder! There is nothing left to say.” I moved around him to go back to the house, but he stopped me with his words.
“She told me of your innocence. She told me about your not having a choice in becoming what you were.”
My eyes slid shut. That was my mother, always trying to fix things, but some things could not be fixed. Some things should never have been. Like Andrew and I. Like our conversation.
“It no longer matters. You broke our engagement. You are betrothed to another woman, and I—” I broke off, unable to say it.
“My family’s doing.” His hands rested on my shoulders, and I winced, his touch burning me, bringing back memories of what might have been. “She means little to me.”
I whipped around, pulling away from his hands.
“Why have you come?”
Andrew stiffened. “Anne’s family is from Savannah.”
“Why have you come here, to me?”
“When I saw you, I was overcome with love; my heart has not moved on, nor could it. Then hearing that you are betrothed...” He shook his head. “All my hopes were dashed, until I realized that you do not have feelings for him.”
Compressing my lips, I said nothing. To admit to Andrew that my feelings for Sam were very strong, but confusing, was not something I would ever do.
The Charleston Chase (Phantom Knights Book 2) Page 13