by Cari Hislop
There was only the large private parlour left to search. Feeling hopeful she found a large fire in the grate, but the room appeared empty. Closing the door she started methodically checking the dark flagstones for her ribbon. Cold, she approached the fire and sighed in despair as she held out her hands. It was going to be another hungry night. The mouth watering smell of roasting pig in the kitchens made her stomach rumble. Sniffing away her tears she reminded herself that there were a few more dark corners in the room left to explore. Swivelling to her left she saw the solitary chair turned away from the direct heat of the fire was occupied. The man was a dark shadow with a hand of flesh sporting a large ruby ring. Ghost stories flashed through her mind, but overcoming her fear she reached and caressed the pale blue sleeve and sighed in relief to find it was real silk velvet. “I’m glad you’re not a ghost…”
“Are you?” The unexpected voice had a pleasant soothing quality.
“I beg your pardon, I thought the room was empty. Did I wake you?”
“The devil never sleeps.”
“Are you ill?”
“No. What are you looking for?”
“A green silk ribbon about this long.” She held out her arms. “Mother says if I don’t plait my hair I won’t get any dinner. I’ve looked everywhere. This was the last room. I don’t know how I even lost it. I retied it this afternoon and then the next thing I knew it was gone. How do ribbons disappear?” Forgetting her hunger her eyes were drawn to the sparkling gem. “Is that a real ruby? I didn’t know they made them so large.” There was something about the relaxed hand that made her feel safe. She bent down to get a closer look. “Mother has a glass ruby. I’ve heard father telling her not to be daft; that no one would believe it was real. I thought it was real, but yours is more sparkly. There was no resistance as she picked up the large warm hand and gently moved it about watching the firelight play off the stone. The pale sculpted flesh was as fascinating as the stone. “What an elegant hand. If I were you I’d wave it about and pretend I was a Duke.”
“You shouldn’t be so trusting child. If your parents learn you’ve kept me company you won’t eat anything, but bread and water for years.”
“Why? Are you very wicked?”
“I’m an ugly rake-hell. I might as well be a leper.”
The words were bitter causing her heart to ache for the shadow-man. She held the hand with more tenderness and stared at the shadow. “Have you really raked through hell?”
“Yes.”
It was a clipped reply that should have sent her running for safety. “Does hell stink as bad as they say?”
“Worse!”
“You don’t seem very dangerous to me, not as dangerous as Squire Woodston. He makes my skin crawl. Mother thinks he’s wonderful because he has a pretty face and an aunt who’s some titled lady, but I don’t like how he looks at my older sister; she’s very beautiful. I can’t imagine you kicking a dog and laughing. You don’t kick your dogs do you?”
“I’ve never had a dog.”
“Really? I haven’t either. When I marry I want a cat. Are you married?”
“No. I’m not fit company for decent ladies. If you were older I’d try to kiss you.”
“Would you really? I know I’m quite plain, but I do have good teeth.” She opened her mouth wide to reveal gleaming pearls of white and was rewarded by a soft chuckle. “Would you really kiss me if I were older?”
“I would. One day you’ll be a lovely woman.”
“In case you’re blind, you’re making me blush.” Smiling at the man’s soft laughter, there was a gasp from the shadows.
“You are lovely.”
There was new husky tone in his voice that sent shivers down her spine. Then he was pulling her hands against invisible lips. The gentle caress sent a painful shock down her arm that made her cheeks burn. Jerking her hands free she stuck them behind her back, but remained next to his chair. “Perhaps you’re just a little bit dangerous.” The hand with the ruby disappeared as the shadow bent over. Her heart beat faster as she wondered what he was doing. Was he going to stand up and try to kiss her on the lips? The thought made her heart race in horrified delight.
“It isn’t green, but you’ll get your dinner.”
She reverently took the offered ribbon and stared with gratitude at the shadow. “What a lovely pale blue; thank you Sir. Are you sure…?”
“Yes! Now leave!” His voice was suddenly harsh and cutting. “I’m not paying a fortune for privacy to be plagued by children.”
She felt a strange sadness at the thought of never seeing the shadow’s face. “Will I see you in the morning?”
“No! Take the ribbon and get out.”
“But what if we were to meet someday; would you kiss me?”
“Leave!” The angry roar nearly shoved her over. Spinning on one foot she fled clutching her ribbon, the smell of roasting pig suddenly making her feel sick.
Conscious of the staring ballroom, Tolerance blushed as he finally released her hand. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Have you finished your search? I can’t believe you’re here in the flesh looking like…looking so handsome.”
Her friend’s face lit up with pleasure and relief. “There’s only one left, but there’s so much I need to tell you. There are some things one can’t write it in a letter.” His voice was barely a whisper. “Lady Pelham has had her revenge. She never told me that I…”
A loud insistent cough behind Tolerance drowned out her friend’s next words. “Mrs Spencer, will you introduce me to your friend?”
Tolerance felt her face burn. “Forgive my ill manners.” She tucked her hand around Geoffrey’s elbow and smiled as her hand was gently pressed against his ribs. “Mr Felton, may I present my friend, The Duke of Lyndhurst.” A reverberating echo of gasps through the crowd accompanied Mr Felton’s snort of disbelief. Glancing up to see how Geoffrey was taking the introduction, she found herself the sole object of his attention as if she were the only other person in the room. He looked just like the man in her dream garden, but the flesh and blood version was more unpredictable, more complex, more overwhelming.
Before Tolerance could ask her friend if he remembered giving a little girl a ribbon, she was surrounded by women desiring to be introduced to the beautiful wealthy Duke. After twenty minutes her cheeks ached from forcing a smile as the Duke of Lyndhurst kissed another pretty debutante’ hand. Her heart wilted in the glare of truth; Geoffrey had transformed into marriageable material and the ton would expect him to do his duty and marry one of them. Why did he have to come back so beautiful? She snapped open her fan to cool her cheeks as Geoffrey exerted himself to charm Lady Cat Farnham, a notorious young shrew who happened to be a stunning beauty. Her hope that he’d ask her was cut dead as he lead the beauty onto the dance floor. Tolerance tried to persuade herself that Geoffrey was merely being kind to the host’s daughter, but seeing the handsome couple take their place and smile at each other caused her heart to slump, but she didn’t have time to be miserable. As soon as he was out of ear shot the crowd of young ladies pummelled her heart with questions.
“Where have you been keeping him Tolerance, Ireland?”
“Can you blame her for hiding him away? I would!”
“Tell us Tolerance, what is he really like? Is he one of those rakes who fight lots of duels and bleeds romantically all over his carriage? His lips look made for kissing.”
“Yes and those pale blue eyes look simply divinely frightfully wicked! Do you think he’d try to kiss me if he found me in a dark hall?”
“Don’t be a Ninny! Of course he’d try to kiss you. He’d try to kiss any woman he found in a dark hall, he’s a rake-hell, that’s what they do! I think we can safely assume that Lady Cat will be hoping to prove the experiment. If she doesn’t pull him out into the garden after this dance I’ll eat my fan.”
“I can’t believe how much he looks like Strathmore, only more wicked.”
“Strathmore isn’t so well endow
ed. How could anyone not fall in love with those magnificent shoulders? I don’t believe the muscles on his legs are padding either.”
“I don’t believe he needs padding anywhere. What a specimen!”
Tolerance listened to the laughing women with growing distaste. Were these the people she called her friends? She snapped her fan closed, “I’ve always found His Grace to be a perfect gentleman. Do excuse me; I’m thirsty.”
On the other side of the ballroom, Penelope Standish seethed with rage. The Devil’s Corpse had somehow been resurrected into a beautiful man and the foolish ladies fluttering around him like moths to a flame couldn’t see he was smitten with the Spencer woman. The thought of Lyndhurst finding love made her feel sick. The man didn’t deserve ten minutes of happiness. Lady Penelope smiled as she realised that the man’s feelings for the plain woman offered the perfect revenge. She’d been waiting for years for a way to make him suffer. Breaking the devil’s heart would be a pleasure. She smiled as she left the ball to arrange her evening’s entertainment.
Chapter 15
As Geoffrey led the beautiful Lady Cat through the dance his eyes kept moving back towards the crowd of women surrounding Tolerance. Something wasn’t right. She looked more upset every time he glanced in her direction. He cursed his stupid pride for wanting to make Tolerance jealous. There was only one woman he wanted to be dancing with and she was on the other side of the room, no she was walking toward the open double doors. The come hither smile faded chilling his features.
The dance over Geoffrey bowed politely, oblivious to the young woman’s charms and hurried after his friend’s sunlight. Passing through stares and whispers with indifference, after several cold futile minutes he stepped into the room where the refreshments were laid out and smiled as warmth flooded back into his body. There she was, holding a glass in her hand, smiling at Mr Thackeray, the favourite from her list of possible husbands. Geoffrey’s pleasure at her nearness was soured by a burning jealousy. Clasping his wet palms behind his back, he approached the couple and gave Thackeray a warning glare before looking down at his friend and returning her smile. She couldn’t smile at him like that and choose to marry some other man.
“Mr Thackeray, allow me to introduce my friend the Duke of Lyndhurst.”
Thackeray took in the relaxed intimacy of the couple and inwardly sighed with defeat. It was obvious the lady’s heart had already made its choice. “A pleasure Your Grace…” Thackeray bowed with just the right combination of respect and self-possession to imply neither bootlicking or awe. “Your cousin Bamford is one of my neighbours. It’s quite amazing, you look just like the picture of your maternal grandfather except with pale blue eyes and of course without the ruffles and powdered wig.”
“I’m aware of my grandfather’s likeness.”
“Geoff…” Geoffrey smirked at her faux pas. If the worm didn’t know Geoffrey was the man who owned her heart, he did now. “…His Grace has only recently returned to London. You’ve not mingled in society for some time; have you Your Grace?” Her tone was almost sharp, he glanced down at his friend to find she was no longer smiling.
“Uh…I suppose not.”
“And where have you been travelling Your Grace?”
Geoffrey looked down at his friend. “I was everywhere, but in the sunlight.” He smiled as she blushed, but turned back to Thackeray with narrowed eyes. “I’ve been travelling around…practicing my shot.” Geoffrey heard Tolerance snap close her fan, but didn’t think anything of it.
“There’s nothing like the smell of gun powder to make one feel alive eh? Oh dear…I believe I owe the next dance to a young lady. If you’ll excuse me.” Feeling like he’d won a duel Geoffrey turned an adoring smile back towards his friend, but found an unhappy expression that chilled his blood.
“How could you threaten to kill Mr Thackeray…and at a ball?”
“I merely mentioned I was practicing my shot. Men often talk about shooting things.”
“You were rude!”
“I’m a Duke, it’s expected.”
“I’m disappointed in you Geoffrey.”
Geoffrey paled as if he’d been slapped. “I didn’t like how he looked at you.” It was the truth, if not the exact reason he wanted to shoot the man.
“And how did he look at me?”
“I got your letter. Don’t marry him!” Geoffrey was overwhelmed by an uncharacteristic feeling he should fall on his knees and beg her to marry him, but he couldn’t expose his heart in front of a jeering crowd. He’d ask her the next afternoon with a special license in his pocket. “You asked for my opinion.” He sighed in relief as she suddenly smiled.
“I dreamt last night that you’d received my letter. Your dream self was similarly unimpressed with the list. I had to assure you that it wasn’t complete…I’ve missed you!”
Geoffrey felt his blood rush with exhilaration through his veins as his heart filled with hope. “Forgive my ill manners Sunshine, but he doesn’t love you. He wouldn’t walk away and leave you at the mercy of a worthless rake-hell if he did. I could never walk away if I thought you were in danger. I’ve no idea what makes a good husband, but he wouldn’t be one.”
“And the other men on the list?”
“Worms!”
“Did you have any personal recommendations? I value your opinion. I’m sure you could name at least one man who’d care about me enough to prove a good husband.”
Geoffrey looked into hopeful eyes and gulped down the nerves restricting his airway. He took a deep breath and prayed he wouldn’t be rejected. “I do know one man who cares for you. A man who…” His words were cut off as a crowd of young ladies surged into the room and encircled the couple ending any hope of privacy.
Geoffrey’s temper began to fray as Tolerance was rebuffed every time she tried to join the conversation. His lips formed a grim line as his pale blue eyes sparkled with resentment, but the fawning lambs took no notice. The Devil’s Corpse had been transformed into the catch of the season and they were all determined to win his attention.
Distracted by a barrage of questions it was several minutes before Geoffrey was aware that his angel had disappeared. Ignoring the young woman speaking to him he turned to try to see if Tolerance was getting a drink, but the room was empty of sunlight. He abruptly excused himself and walked as fast as he could without breaking into a run back to the ballroom. Stopping in the door way he scanned the company with a heavy heart. He couldn’t believe she’d leave without saying goodbye. Ignoring fawning debutantes, he methodically searched every room three times before accepting she wasn’t there. If her head was pounding like his from the noise of laughing ladies he could understand her rush to escape. There was no reason to remain a moment longer. He turned towards the door, but only got a few steps before Lord Cranston stepped into his path nearly knocking him over. Geoffrey cursed the man dressed in a hideous green and yellow striped suit, but was ignored. Feeling rattled, Geoffrey was more aware of movements around him as he regained his composure.
As he waited for his carriage he had a strange feeling he should call on his friend. Taking out his pocket watch he sighed in disappointment. It was gone twelve o’clock. If he appeared on her doorstep after midnight, she’d think him a randy rake-hell wanting to climb into her bed. The sensible thing was to call in the morning with a special license in his pocket, but the compulsion griped him like a fist. He pulled on his hat and took his sword stick from the footman. He’d call on his friend and tell her he loved. He wouldn’t enter the house. He’d speak to her at the door. She wouldn’t be able to think ill of him if he refused to enter. He’d decided to risk her censure, but as his carriage lumbered to a stop he changed his mind. He couldn’t gamble her friendship on an irrational feeling. He climbed into his carriage tormented by thoughts of losing his angel. He’d call on his friend first thing in the morning and tell her she was his treasure. She’d be more obliging if he showed up at her breakfast table. His heart would be safe. If only he’d had
one more minute he’d have told her he wanted his name at the top of her list.