by Diane Gaston
Genna glanced at the receiving line, where Lorene had hurried to catch up with Lord Tinmore. Ross shook the hand of the gentleman who’d been announced before them, but when the man moved on, Ross glanced up and smiled at Genna.
Suddenly all that mattered was that he like her gown.
She touched the opal pendant and stepped forward to greet the Duke and Duchess.
The Duchess greeted her with a fixed smile. ‘Don’t you look sweet, my dear.’
She curtsied to the Duke.
‘Good. Good. You are here.’ He made it sound as if he wished she wasn’t.
‘I am honoured to be here, Your Grace,’ she responded.
Then she came to Ross who clasped her hand and leaned close to her ear. ‘You look beautiful.’
Her spirits soared.
She touched her opal. ‘Thank you, Ross. It is lovely.’
‘Save me the first dance,’ he added.
She smiled at him. ‘With pleasure.’
Lady Northdon waited behind her. ‘There are guests behind us,’ she reminded Genna.
Genna stepped away from Ross, but waited for Lady Northdon and Tess to be finished. Together they walked across the ball room to where Lorene stood with Tinmore.
As soon as they reached her, Tinmore glanced from Lorene to Tess. ‘I am off to the game room, but I will return for the announcement. In the meantime, behave with decorum. I’ll not have the Tinmore title besmirched by hoydenish antics.’
As if Lorene could ever be hoydenish. Genna felt like creating a fuss just to upset him.
‘Look at this room!’ Tess said in awed tones.
The walls were papered in red damask, but were covered with huge paintings depicting scenes from Greek mythology. Genna wished she could get up close to examine the brushwork, the use of colour. She knew so much more now than when she first met Vespery.
‘Look at the ceiling!’ Tess said.
The ceiling had intricate plasterwork dividing the ceiling into octagons and squares, each of which were painted. It made the ceiling of the drawing room where they had been the night of the musicale look plain in comparison.
Her husband came to her side. ‘This is a magnificent room, is it not?’
Lorene said, ‘There is Lord Penford standing alone. I believe I will walk over to him and say hello.’
* * *
Ross joined Genna as soon as he could leave the receiving line. He danced with her, with each of her sisters and even with Lady Northdon, whom he’d never met before but liked immediately. He noticed plenty of disapproving stares, which angered him. Why should the Summerfields and Lord and Lady Northdon be judged so negatively? Nothing they had done deserved this denigration. Except maybe for Lady Tinmore, who did marry for money, but after five minutes seeing her with Lord Tinmore, one could feel nothing but pity for her.
One of the footmen approached him. ‘Her Grace says you should come now.’
Time for the announcement. ‘Thank you, Stocker.’ Ross turned to Genna, who was laughing at something Lady Northdon said. ‘It is time,’ he told her.
Her face fell, but she nodded and said to her sisters, ‘I think they are ready for the announcement.’
‘Oh,’ cried Tess. ‘Let us all go up front where we can see you better.’
Ross and Genna led the way and the rest of their party followed. In their wake were audible murmurs from the other guests.
Ross’s father and the Duchess stood at the far end of the ballroom where, on an elevated platform, the orchestra still played quietly. The Duchess looked crestfallen; his father, grim.
‘Are you ready?’ his father asked.
Ross smiled down on Genna. ‘Indeed we are.’
She straightened her back, lifted her chin and smiled back at him. Brave girl.
His father and the Duchess, all smiles now, climbed on to the orchestra’s platform. The musicians sounded a loud chord and went silent.
Ross’s father raised his hands. ‘May I have your attention? Attention!’
The guests turned towards him and fell silent.
‘We have an announcement to make,’ his father said. ‘A happy announcement.’ He gestured to Ross. ‘As you know, the Duchess and I have long desired to see my son Rossdale settled and tonight I am delighted to report that he has done as we wished.’
The crowd murmured.
Ross’s father went on. ‘My son, the Marquess of Rossdale, has proposed marriage to Miss Summerfield, daughter of the late Sir Hollis Summerfield of Yardney and ward of Lord Tinmore—’
Tinmore waved and bobbed from nearby.
The Duke continued, ‘And I am happy to report that Miss Summerfield has accepted him.’
‘No!’ a lone female voice cried from the back of the room amidst other shocked sounds from other guests. The Duchess’s smile faltered.
Ross stepped on to the platform and helped Genna up to stand beside the Duke and Duchess. ‘Thank you, Father.’ He turned to the crowd. ‘Miss Summerfield is not well known to many of you, but I am confident you will soon see all the fine qualities she possesses. I could not be a happier man.’
He put his arm around Genna, who smiled at him with much admiration in her face. Her family beamed from below them, but only a few others in the crowd looked pleased.
Ross knew this world, where birth and titles and wealth mattered more than character. He and Genna knew the disapproval they would face. So why should he feel so angry at these people and so protective of Genna?
He lifted her off the platform. ‘There. It is done.’
She grinned at him. ‘And I am still standing!’
Her sisters, Glenville and his parents clustered around her with hugs and happy tears of congratulations. Lord Tinmore disappeared into the card room again. Several others offered congratulations, a few genuinely meant, others so as not to offend the Duke of Kessington.
Dell approached them just as the music for the supper dance began. ‘I thought I should congratulate you as well, or it might look odd.’
‘I appreciate it.’ Ross kept a smile on his face as he shook Dell’s hand. ‘I’m glad this part is over. Now we can simply enjoy the rest of the Season.’
Dell turned to Genna. ‘How are you faring?’
She smiled, too, as if accepting good wishes. ‘I am actually surprised that some people with whom I have no connection seemed happy for me.’
It had surprised Ross, too. He planned to make a note of those people.
‘Are you dancing the supper dance?’ Genna asked Dell.
‘With your sister,’ he responded. ‘As it is likely Lord Tinmore will not escort her in to supper.’
‘So good of you,’ Genna said.
His face turned stony. ‘My duty to my cousin.’ Dell bowed and presumably went in search of Lady Tinmore.
Ross took Genna’s hand. ‘Let us skip the supper dance. There is someone here I should like you to meet.’
‘As you wish,’ Genna said in exaggerated tones. ‘I am a biddable fiancée.’
He laughed. ‘Biddable?’
He brought her to a pleasant-looking woman in her forties who sat among other ladies not dancing.
‘Lady Long.’ He bowed. ‘Allow me to present to you my fiancée—’
‘Your very biddable fiancée,’ Genna broke in.
‘My biddable fiancée,’ he corrected. ‘Miss Summerfield.’
‘How do you do, ma’am.’ Genna curtsied.
‘Not as well as you, young lady,’ the woman said in good humour. ‘Landing yourself a future duke.’
Genna made a nervous laugh.
Ross quickly spoke. ‘Your husband was gracious enough to give Miss Summerfield and me a tour of the artwork at Carlton House.’
‘You are Sir Char
les’s wife?’ Genna exclaimed. ‘I am so delighted to meet you. Your husband was too generous to take the time for that wonderful tour. I learned so much!’
Ross continued. ‘Lady Long is an accomplished artist, Genna. She has exhibited at the Royal Academy.’
Genna’s eyes grew wide. ‘You have?’
Ross turned to Lady Long. ‘Miss Summerfield is also an artist.’
‘It is my abiding passion,’ Genna said. ‘What do you paint? Portraits?’
‘Landscapes,’ Lady Long responded. ‘I suppose you could say that gardens and landscapes are my abiding passion.’
‘Landscapes,’ Genna repeated in awed tones.
‘And what do you paint, my dear?’ Mrs Long asked.
‘I am hoping to learn to paint portraits, but most of what I’ve done before are landscapes.’
Like the one she’d painted of Summerfield House with the purple and pink sky and blue grass.
‘What medium do you use?’ Genna asked.
‘Watercolours,’ the lady said.
‘I love to paint landscapes in watercolours.’ Genna sighed. ‘Tell me, Lady Long, do your watercolours sell for a good price?’
‘Sell?’ Mrs Long scoffed. ‘Goodness me, no. I do not sell my paintings, my dear. I enjoy painting and am lucky enough to have my skill recognised, but I enjoy many pastimes. I adore designing my garden, but I would never hire myself out to design anyone else’s.’
Ross saw disappointment in Genna’s eyes, but she kept a pleasant expression on her face for the older woman. ‘Do you design your own garden, then?’
Ross suspected Genna was not very interested in moving trees and shrubbery about.
‘Sir Charles and I are creating our garden. We’ve been inspired by Repton and Capability Brown, but the ideas are our very own,’ she answered proudly.
‘That is an art as well, is it not?’ Genna added diplomatically.
The lady smiled. ‘It is, indeed, my dear. You must call upon me some time and I will show you my garden—in my sketchbook, that is. Our house is some distance away. We are staying in town while Parliament sits.’
‘That would be lovely,’ Genna said. ‘I would love to see your sketchbook.’
Genna curtsied and Ross bowed and they walked away.
‘I am ever so much more interested in the sketchbook than actually seeing the gardens,’ she told him in a conspiratorial tone.
‘I would have surmised that,’ he responded.
She drew closer to him. ‘Thank you for introducing me to her. Imagine. She has exhibited at the Royal Academy!’
‘I thought you would like to meet a fellow lady artist,’ he said.
‘I should like to meet one who earns enough to live on from her art. Someone like Vigée-LeBrun.’
‘Who?’
‘Madame Vigée-LeBrun. She was Marie Antoinette’s portraitist.’ She peered at him. ‘You really know very little about art, do you not?’
‘Only what I have learned from you, Sir Charles and Vespery,’ he told her. ‘Before that I either liked a work of art, disliked it, or noticed it not at all.’
Her eyes looked puzzled. ‘Then why become an artist’s patron?’
He raised his brows. ‘Because of you, of course.’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘I do not understand.’
The music was loud and the guests who were not dancing tried to talk above it. He did not fancy shouting at her to be heard.
‘Let us go somewhere quiet.’ He escorted her out the ballroom door and down a hallway to a small parlour.
The room was lit by a crystal chandelier. Most of the rooms were lit in case the guests should wander in. The Duke refused to appear as if he needed to economise about such things as the cost of candles.
As soon as they entered, though, Genna was distracted by the decor. ‘Oh, more plasterwork and gilt. Is every room in the house so beautiful?’
Her attention was caught by a painting in the room, a long painting depicting some Classical battle scene, with overturned chariots, rearing horses and fighting soldiers in gleaming helmets, swords and shields.
‘Who painted this?’ she asked.
‘I have no idea,’ he responded. ‘I grew up with these paintings, but I knew nothing of them. I liked this one when I was a boy, because it was a battle scene—not that I saw it often when my grandfather was alive. He would not allow children in the public rooms, in most of the rooms, actually, but sometimes my mother would sneak me out of the nursery and take me on a tour of the house.’
She turned from the painting to him. ‘I think I would have liked your mother.’
He gestured to a sofa in a part of the room set up as a seating area.
She sat on the sofa and he sat next to her.
‘I think I understand why you are helping me,’ she said. ‘It is like your soldiers, is it not? When you discover someone in need, you help them.’
His reasons for helping her were a great deal more personal than that. ‘Genna—’ he began.
From the hallway they heard a loud voice making an announcement.
She grimaced. ‘It must be time for supper.’
He extended his hand to help her up, but pulled too hard. She wound up in his arms, her body flush against his.
She laughed and looked up into his eyes. ‘If anyone saw us now, they would think we truly were betrothed.’
The blood surged through his veins, as powerful an arousal of his senses as he could remember experiencing.
‘Let us convince them even more.’ He lowered his head and took possession of her lips, suddenly ravenous for her.
An eager sound escaped her lips. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. Her lips parted, giving his tongue access. He backed her up until she was against the wall and he could hold her tighter against him. His lips left hers and tasted the tender skin of her neck. She writhed beneath him, her hands holding his head as if she feared he would stop kissing her.
From the hallway, the butler’s voice rose again.
Ross froze. Good God. ‘We must stop,’ he managed, releasing her and stepping away.
Her chest rose and fell, her breath rapid. ‘Oh, my!’
He filled with shame. ‘Genna, I—’
She expelled one more deep breath before smiling up at him. ‘That was quite wonderful, Ross! Last Season a fellow or two pecked at my cheek, but now I feel I have been truly kissed!’
He’d resisted such impulses so many times when they’d been together. Why had he weakened now? ‘It was poorly done of me.’
She laughed and threw her arms around his neck again, giving his mouth a quick kiss. ‘I would say your kiss was rather skilfully done.’
He held her cheeks in his palms. ‘You are outrageous, Genna Summerfield.’ He released her again. With difficulty.
She straightened the bodice of her dress and smoothed her skirt. ‘Me? You are the one who kissed me.’
He checked his own clothing and made certain he was together. With any luck the visible evidence of his arousal would disappear by the time they reached the dining room.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Genna hardly knew what to think as Ross escorted her to the dining room. Such a kiss! She’d never imagined a kiss could be so sublime. Could leave one so…wanting.
She should have been furious at Ross. She should have slapped his face.
Instead, when he’d pulled away from her, she’d wanted to pull him back and start the kiss all over again. Was this the sort of physical thing that made men and women desire to marry? Or, like her unhappily married mother and father, was this what made them seek other lovers?
If a mere kiss could be so powerful, what, then, would marital coupling be like? For the first time, she
wanted to know. If Ross’s kiss could bring such breathless pleasure, what could his lovemaking bring?
The supper was set out in three separate rooms, the dining room and two others set up with tables and chairs. Unlike the musicale, the food would be served at the table. She and Ross were expected in the dining room where the guests of highest rank were to be seated. When they entered the dining room, most of the guests had already taken their seats. The Duke at the head of the table, the Duchess at the other end, but, beyond that, precedence was abandoned. One supped with one’s recent dance partner.
From across the room, the Duke stood and called, ‘Ross!’ He gestured for them to come to him. Two empty chairs next to the Duke had obviously been intended for them.
A footman held Genna’s chair for her. To her dismay, Lord Tinmore procured a place almost directly across from her. She glanced down the table and spied Lorene seated with Lord Penford.
The room was another grand exhibition of opulence. Walls of green damask, two marble pillars at each end of the room, another intricate plasterwork ceiling, its designs outlined in gilt. The paintings on the walls were huge and awe-inspiring, depicting scenes from ancient history.
‘You are late,’ the Duke chastised.
‘A bit late,’ Ross responded without a hint of apology.
‘You disappeared from the ballroom.’ The Duke’s tone did not change.
‘Only briefly,’ Ross said.
A gentleman on the Duke’s other side asked him a question and he turned away.
The white soup was served, but the guests selected other fare from the dishes set before them on the table. Because a hot meal would never have stayed hot for so many guests, the dinner consisted of cold meats and fish, jellies, pastries, sweetmeats and ices, among a myriad of other dishes. The room was soon filled with the noise of conversation, and silver knives and forks clanking against dinner plates of fine porcelain china.
The Duke and the other gentleman began a heated exchange about the rash of violence occurring lately, of several break-ins, thefts and murders by gangs of men.
The Duke half-stood, his face red. ‘We cannot ignore that people are hungry, sir!’