by Janet Woods
‘Except for you of course, Mrs Huff. You look magnificent, but then, you always do. Perhaps you’d honour me with the second dance.’
His father came over to greet Sarette with old-fashioned courtliness. ‘My dear, how lovely you look. Can I book you for the last dance before supper?’
‘Thank you, Mr Grimble. I would be honoured to dance with you.’
‘Good, then perhaps you’d allow me to escort you in to supper, as well.’
Her glance went to Magnus, who gave a faint smile and nodded.
Gerald’s eyes narrowed. Magnus seemed to have her on a long rein at the moment. Her shoulders were as smooth and creamy as ivory, he thought, looking down at them. There was something about her now. She was less the child and more the woman in her thinking and ways, and she had Magnus eating out of her hand.
Or had she? Perhaps it was the other way round because he’d never known Magnus to allow anyone to lead him by the nose. But the last time he’d seen the two of them together they’d been at loggerheads. He teased himself with the infuriating thought that Magnus was better positioned to take advantage of the girl. But his friend had long resisted the pressure to wed anyone, and Gerald was surprised he’d suggested a scheme where marriage was the outcome.
When Gerald met Magnus’s eyes, dark and implacable, he didn’t know whether he wanted to lose this wager, or win it. His mouth twitched into a smile. The winner of this would be the loser, Magnus said. Hah! Trust him to come up with something complicated like this, though it had seemed like a good idea at the time.
The music started and he made his excuses, remembering he had to dance with Jessica first. Her mouth had a mean, thin look to it when she gossiped.
‘. . . and Felicia Fowler said her mother saw them coming out of Madame Marie’s salon together . . . and we all know what type of women she designs for,’ Jessica was saying to Olivia as he approached.
He hid his distaste and smiled at her, ‘Our dance, I believe.’
Her smile changed from spiteful to simpering. ‘Oh, Gerald, there you are. I thought you’d forgotten about poor little me.’
Gerald could only wish poor little her would allow him to as he led her out on the floor and she almost manacled herself to his arm.
Fifteen
The dancing opened with a quadrille, and they squared up with the Farringtons, Judge Huff and his wife, and another couple.
Sarette’s heart was beating fast because she wasn’t sure of the steps, but by following the other women’s moves she soon gained in confidence. Magnus winked at her as they met in the middle and she took heart.
As the evening progressed it became obvious to Sarette that she lacked practised dancing skills. Just as obvious, her partners didn’t seem to mind her inexperience, as a polonaise was followed by a country dance, which was followed by a waltz. She certainly didn’t lack for partners as the evening progressed.
She found herself partnered by Ignatious Grimble, who gazed ruefully at her when a polka was announced. ‘Oh, dear, I was hoping for something far less vigorous.’
‘So was I,’ she said, and smiled. ‘I’m quite out of breath, Mr Grimble. Let’s go and get some refreshment, then sit and talk instead.’
They skirted the melee of swiftly revolving couples and went through to the supper room. A little later they were ensconced on a couch in the corner, and Sarette was gratefully sipping on a lemonade. A maid brought a plate of savouries for them to enjoy.
‘Are you enjoying yourself, Sarette?’
‘Enormously, though I’m not a very good dancer, despite Gerald’s best efforts to teach me.’
‘The more you dance, the easier it will become. I thought you danced gracefully, and were light on your feet.’
‘Thank you, Mr Grimble, you are a gentleman, and your kindness always makes me feel better about myself.’
He patted her hand. ‘I’m pleased Magnus brought you along. It was about time you were launched into society. People have long been curious about you.’
Magnus was talking to a rather beautiful-looking woman on the other side of the room. Her face was animated. As he was about to depart she flirtatiously placed her fan on his arm to detain him, and he shrugged it off.
Ignatious gently coughed to attract her attention. What had they been talking about before she’d set eyes on Magnus with the woman? She tore her glance away. Ah . . . yes. ‘They are curious about me, but why?’
‘They all knew John Kern, and most of them know Magnus. Did you imagine his colleagues wouldn’t be curious, when he took a complete stranger into his house?’
‘I never really thought about it. Fierce Eagles is isolated, and not many people visit.’
‘That will change over New Year. Everyone will want to meet you.’
The music stopped and a crush of people headed for the supper tables, talking and laughing.’
‘Ah, there you are, father.’
‘Olivia . . . and Miss Fenwick. Have you been introduced to Miss Maitland yet?’
‘No, we have not, and I’m quite cross about it since both you and Gerald have known her for over a year and said not one word.’
‘Neither Gerald nor I are in the habit of discussing our clients or their business interests with you, Olivia. You should know that.’
Olivia’s face reddened a little. ‘How do you do, Miss Maitland.’
‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss . . .’ Sarette gazed at Ignatious with an enquiry in her eyes.
‘Mrs Crossly,’ Olivia said.
Ignatious rose. ‘Olivia is married to Miss Fenwick’s cousin. You will excuse me, won’t you? There is someone I need to speak to, so I’ll leave you with the ladies.’
Sarette smiled at Olivia after her father had gone. ‘Gerald has only ever referred to you by your first name.’
‘As he would, since Gerald is my brother.’
Obviously they were not to be on first name terms. Sarette coloured a little at the put down, then turned to the other woman with her friendliest smile, even though she could sense some hostility in her manner. ‘How do you do, Miss Fenwick.’
Jessica Fenwick looked her up and down. ‘I do very well. That’s a beautiful gown, and expensive-looking. I’m quite crawling with curiosity. May I ask where you purchased it?’
Something told Sarette to be wary. ‘I have several gowns, and I can’t quite recall where this particular one was purchased.’
‘I understand you were a friend of Mr John Kern.’ Jessica laughed. ‘They’re saying he found you living with a tribe of naked natives in the desert and he rescued you, civilized you, and taught you some manners.’
Jessica Fenwick could do with being taught some herself, but Sarette wasn’t going to be the one to do it, so she laughed. ‘Oh, how quaint. You must point these people out and I’ll endeavour to correct that assumption.’
‘Is it true that John Kern took up highway robbery and was shot by police?’
Anger raced through her, so she trembled with the effort to control it. ‘Do you find pleasure in repeating such scurrilous gossip, Miss Fenwick?’
A hand closed around her elbow and she felt relief when Magnus said, ‘Sarette, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You will excuse us, won’t you, ladies?’ He steered her away, past the woman he’d been talking to, who gave her a prolonged stare.
‘Who’s that woman?’ she asked.
‘An acquaintance. She’s married to an Italian count. Should I know what Olivia and Jessica were saying to you?’
‘No, they were scratching like cats and I scratched back. You stopped me from strangling Miss Fenwick with my bare hands, you know.’
He chuckled. ‘Something I would have enjoyed immensely, but which is not quite socially acceptable. Can you manage them?’
‘Yes, and I promise there won’t be any bodies strewn about on the floor when I leave. You don’t have to worry about me letting you down, Magnus. I’m not going to prove to anyone that I’m the savage they all imagine I am.’
‘I’m not worrying. From what I’ve seen and heard tonight you put most of the other women to shame. I don’t want you to become upset.’
‘I promise not to embarrass you,’ she said stiffly.
‘That’s not what I meant.’
She gave him a smile, knowing he was thinking only of her feelings on this occasion. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, Magnus. My hair decoration is coming loose.’
In public view, he touched a finger against a stray wisp of hair to tuck it gently behind her ear. She shivered, and only just stopped herself from turning her face against his hand and purring like a cat. ‘I’m going to seek Ada out and ask her to secure it for me. The dancing is very energetic, and I’m enjoying the music.’
‘I’ll wait for you at the bottom of the staircase.’
Sarette took the opportunity to use the cloakroom on the way back down. When she came out the woman she’d seen talking to Magnus was standing in front of the mirror. She smiled. ‘You must be Sarette Maitland.’
‘Yes, I am’
‘I’m Isabelle, Contessa Carsurina.’ Her glance fell on the brooch at Sarette’s waist and she smiled and said casually, ‘Isn’t that the brooch that Magnus gave me as a birthday gift. I wouldn’t have thought of wearing it in such a manner. It looks so pretty.’
‘Thank you,’ Sarette said in as cool a voice as possible, though she was churning with embarrassment.
‘I returned it when I married, of course. I’m glad Magnus found a use for it. I wanted no reminder of a man who led me to believe . . .’ A tear trembled on the woman’s lashes and Sarette nearly recoiled when she grabbed her hands. ‘You are so young, and I really must warn you, dear. Magnus Kern will not allow you to keep the legacy that his uncle left you.’
Taken aback, and her heart beginning to pound Sarette gazed at the woman and whispered, ‘Legacy?’
‘The house on the cliff and the income from the remainder of John Kern’s investments.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, my dear. You don’t know? Perhaps you should ask Ignatious Grimble. He handled the Kern estate.’ Drying her hands, Isabelle gently touched her cheek. ‘I assume . . . but yes, you would be involved. You’re beautiful and Magnus adores having beautiful things around him. Even so, he must think highly of you to take you under his roof after you . . . knew his uncle. Perhaps I should warn you. In my experience, what Magnus gets he keeps, until he tires of it and decides to discard it. But still, you are envied by every woman here.’
‘You’re mistaken in your assumption, Contessa. I was John Kern’s ward, nothing more, nothing less. Now I am Magnus Kern’s ward. Why would you presume to suggest otherwise?’
‘My pardon, but I understood . . .?’ Isabelle raised a haughty eyebrow and swept away.
Sarette discovered that her fingers were curled into fists, and she felt like ripping the basin from the wall and throwing it down the stairs after the woman.
Envy was such an ugly word, she thought. Why should anyone envy her for living under Magnus Kern’s roof? She flattened her hands against her warm cheeks as she realized that most women would find him attractive – that she did herself on occasion, and that Isabelle must have been Magnus’s mistress. As for John Kern . . . how dare they sully the memory of such a wonderful man?
She hadn’t imagined that either man had been celibate all their lives. And she had no reason to chide him for his past, or present behaviour. For all she knew he could have another woman he visited. He often stayed out until the early hours. Still, it was really none of her business what he did.
And the gossipmongers thought that John Kern had left her a house and a fortune? She laughed out loud, if without mirth, amazed by such a notion. How silly they all were. Magnus wouldn’t have kept that from her, neither would Gerald.
She stood there a while, waiting for her anger to subside while trying to sort things out in her mind. She realized she was avoiding going back down to him. Her chin came up. She’d promised not to embarrass Magnus, so she’d endure these gossiping creatures, even though it was more than they deserved.
Magnus watched her sweep down the stairs, and took her hand in his when she reached the bottom. ‘Is everything all right?’
It wasn’t, because she was now feeling unsettled. But she couldn’t go running to him every time somebody upset her. Mrs Lawrence had told her that a lady should rise above petty annoyances. ‘Everything is fine.’ But she couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
‘You were gone longer than I expected.’
‘My hair took a while to fix.’
His smile expanded, his eyes gazed into hers. They were honest, guileless eyes. No, he’d never cheat her, neither would Mr Grimble or Gerald. They were well-respected lawyers, the three of them would have had to conspire to do such a thing.
‘You don’t lie very well. Was it Isabelle?’ he said. ‘I saw her coming down the stairs with a smug look on her face.’
‘Yes, it was. She seemed intent on letting me know she used to be a particular friend of yours.’ Her fingers touched against the brooch. ‘She said it was a birthday gift to her that she’d returned to you.’
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘She did return some jewellery I gave her, but that brooch wasn’t amongst it. I purchased that especially for you as a reminder of your first ball. Would you have minded very much if it had been Isabelle’s?’ he said, his gaze intent on her face.
She made her smile as natural as possible. ‘I’d lie and tell you I didn’t mind, when secretly I would mind.’
He laughed. ‘Your honesty is refreshing and your reasoning . . . soundly female.’
She looked up at him then. ‘She thinks we are lovers. Everyone does.’
Light flickered in the depths of his eyes. ‘There’s bound to be some speculation. Take no notice of it.’
‘There’s a rumour that Mr John discovered me living with a naked tribe in the desert, and Isabelle imagines I was involved with him, as well as you,’ she said indignantly.
He chuckled. ‘I’ve heard it. My uncle didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought.’
‘Do you?’
‘No. Only small-minded people find pleasure in making such unsubstantiated statements. Dance the next waltz with me.’
‘I promised it to Gerald.’
‘Disappoint him.’
She grinned as she looked past his shoulder. ‘All right, but he’s looking for me.’
‘He won’t find you.’ He pulled her into the middle of the floor just as the waltz began.
Magnus was light on his feet and he guided her towards the opposite side of where they’d last seen Gerald. Magnus’s height gave him an advantage as he swung her round, for he could track in which direction Gerald moved. The music was romantic, and as he gradually pulled her closer while managing to avoid the rest of the dancers, she didn’t resist.
‘We dance well together,’ he said, and she gazed up at him.
‘I like the waltz. It’s easy to remember.’
They were hemmed in by dancers now. He pulled her closer, so her head was resting against his heartbeat for a few moments, and she could have sworn that his mouth brushed the top of her head. The next moment the crowd opened out and he swung her out and around. She saw Gerald eyeing the dance floor and Magnus chuckled as he swung her in the opposite direction.
He looked into her eyes and she smiled, enjoying the game, but finding herself captured by their enigmatic darkness. Her smile faded and so did his, and they seemed to be the only people on the dance floor. What strange magic was this? It was as if she was alone with him in the middle of this crowd, and he was the only person she could see. They came to a standstill and he spoke her name in a whisper, ‘Sarette.’
Gerald tapped him on the shoulder. ‘You didn’t think you were going to get away with it, did you? Hand her over, at once.’ He was about to whisk her out of Magnus’s arms and into his own when the music ended. ‘Nice timing,’
he grumbled.
Magnus gave a deep, satisfied chuckle that made the roots of Sarette’s hair tingle. ‘It seems to me that I did get away with it.’
Clive Farrington claimed the next dance, much to Gerald’s chagrin.
An hour later the ballroom was beginning to thin out. She bade farewell to Judge Huff, who’d turned out to be a jolly man. He pinched her cheek. Mrs Huff kissed her. ‘It was lovely to meet a friend of John Kern, rascal though he was. I’d like to hear more about what he did in the Antipodes. You must ask Magnus to bring you over for a visit once New Year is over.’
‘I should like that, Mrs Huff. Thank you so much.’
‘Better still, I keep an open house on New Year’s Day. Come the day before, I’m sure we can accommodate you,’ Magnus said, as if they were what everybody thought – a couple!
Gerald finally got to dance a polka with her, and they galloped around the floor until she was dizzy and laughing. She collapsed in a chair while Gerald went off to fetch her some lemonade.
Now Sarette was resting she began to feel tired, and stifled a yawn behind her hand.
Magnus joined her. ‘Tired?’
She nodded.
‘Then I’ll escort you up to your room and you can retire for the night.’
‘But Gerald—’
‘I’ll say goodnight to him on your behalf.’ He held out his hand to her and she took it.
‘I’ve had a wonderful evening. Thank you,’ she said when they reached the door to her room.
‘It was entirely my pleasure.’
She placed her finger across his lips. ‘Not entirely. Now, allow me to express my own pleasure without interruption. I enjoyed your company, and I’m glad you weren’t so stiff and formal as you usually are, and that we didn’t argue about anything of importance.’
He slanted his head to one side, appearing amused by her observation. Gently, he nipped the end of her finger. ‘That’s because you were a well-behaved child and I didn’t have to evoke my strict rules of wardship.’
‘Would you have preferred it had I been a child?’