Once they set foot in the ballroom, however, Mrs. Sedgely joined a group of older ladies at the far end of the room, and he and Vanessa circled the room to greet the guests and answer questions about the Foundling Hospital. He could not help but notice that Vanessa made a splendid picture, in her rose-colored gown with a crimson overdress with gold embroidered flowers. But it was her poise and confidence and the warmth of her address that drew the admiration of the men and women in the room. She held her head high as she mingled with the wealthiest of London’s citizens, from dukes and politicians all the way down to the lowliest of Cits in search of a path to the higher ranks. For Vanessa, he realized, it was all about the children. The more sympathy she could garner for the sad situations of the mothers forced to part with their children, the more potential for generous subscriptions to their cause.
They both danced with other partners, but no matter how attractive his partner, his eye was constantly on Vanessa. She was a particularly graceful dancer, seemed to enjoy it immensely, and was all smiles and friendliness with all of her partners. He didn’t care for the gleam in the eyes of the Marquess of Durham, nor for the way Lord Needham took every opportunity to peer down her dress. She danced the supper dance with the 6th Duke of Devonshire, who, besides being one of the wealthiest men in England, was also of an age with her and seemed quite enchanted, bringing her a plate of the choicest morsels and concentrating nearly all of his attention on her as they dined.
During his dance with Lady Herrington, the hostess of the event, she asked him why he seemed so glum at one of the gayest parties of the Season. When he involuntarily glanced at Vanessa, she giggled and hit him with her fan. “So it’s Miss Sedgely, is it? A very worthy young lady, if you don’t mind a bluestocking for a wife.”
George felt a sudden coldness. “I’m not in the market for a wife!” he protested. “We are merely friends, Miss Sedgely and I.”
Lady Herrington shook her head. “Men are always the last to know. Nevertheless, I shan’t be surprised to hear an announcement in the near future, Mr. Durand,” she told him with a knowing grin.
Eventually, George gave up trying to convince himself he had no romantic interest in Vanessa Sedgely. Of course he did. She was a lovely young woman and he enjoyed being in her presence—as apparently did every gentleman in the room. Vanessa would be an exceptional wife and a remarkable asset to his life, if he were fortunate enough to win her for himself. But could she ever be content to be the wife of a man like him? One nearly old enough to be her father?
Nevertheless, when the time came for their waltz, he was there to take her hand and lead her to the dance floor. Unlike with his previous partners, he could not take his eyes off her striking blue eyes and lovely face, the flush on her cheeks enhanced by the exertion of the dance. Or was there another reason for it?
“You dance divinely,” he said, feeling tongue-tied.
“Thank you,” she said. “So do you.”
For a brief pause, he simply drank in the pleasure of being with her. The light touch of her gloved hands on his shoulder. The sweet smell of honeysuckle in her hair. The sound of her silk skirts against his trousers. The neatness of her waist where his hand lightly touched her to indicate his next movements. The melodic tones of the music as it swirled them around the room on enchanted feet. The heat in her eyes when she looked at him.
“The ball is a big success, it seems. Lady Herrington must be commended for her efforts,” Vanessa volunteered. “Did she mention it when you danced with her?”
George’s heartbeat raced. Had she been keeping track of his partners as he had hers?
“No, not at all. Her conversation was more in the manner of…” he coughed “… an inquiry into the extent of my intentions toward a certain lady.”
Vanessa frowned. “A lady? What lady? Do I know her?”
George chuckled. “I believe you do, Miss Sedgely. She lives in a house with a gargoyle knocker on the door.”
A slow smile lit her face. “Me? Really? What did you tell her, if it is not too much of an imposition?”
“I told her I wasn’t looking for a wife. That we were merely friends.”
She dropped her head down, breaking eye contact. “Yes. Of course.”
“She didn’t believe me,” he added, unconsciously pulling her closer to him. “And I find myself beginning to agree with her.”
Her head popped back up, and she looked at him incredulously. “What did you say to her?”
“I feel more than friendship for you, Miss Sedgely. Do you find that displeasing?” He held his breath for her answer.
She smiled tremulously. “On the contrary, Mr. Durand. It makes me very happy.”
* * *
George’s smile widened, and his eyes burned with such heat that Vanessa felt she might swoon, like the heroines in her favorite Minerva Press novels. She hadn’t been courted since she was eighteen, and then, well… she had been too green to understand how such things could go awry. His words, while immensely gratifying, did not amount to an offer of marriage, and could very well be nothing more than a momentary impulse. While she had clearly set her cap at him that first night at Vauxhall, the initial scheme of landing an indulgent husband who would not interfere in life had suddenly become distasteful to her. For some reason, she realized that nothing but a real marriage would suit her, and a real marriage would entail a consideration of his preferences as well.
“My dear, you are trembling,” said George, his brow wrinkling. “Are you too warm? It is rather close in here, even with the windows open.”
“I am, rather,” Vanessa confessed. “Perhaps we could sit for a moment or two?” She needed her fan, but having left it with her mother, along with her reticule, she didn’t mention it. The very last thing she wanted right now was having to respond to her mother’s probing questions.
George led her off the floor, and smoothly lifted a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “Or would you prefer ratafia?” he asked anxiously, leading her to a chair.
Vanessa gave him a wan smile. “Some air would be preferable. Would you mind escorting me to the terrace?”
“Of course,” he said immediately, putting down the glass. “A cool breeze would be quite the thing.”
It was a warm evening for September, but the breeze was refreshing, and soon Vanessa was feeling more herself. Rows and rows of Chinese lanterns were strung around the terrace and the garden area, not only illuminating the Herringtons’ fine plants and statuary, but also deterring the sort of dalliance that dark corners seemed to invite.
“Tell me about your wife,” she invited. A risky move, perhaps, since he’d seemed reluctant to speak of her that night at Vauxhall, but if she and George were indeed headed for matrimony, she needed to know about his first marriage.
They stood arm-in-arm at the balustrade, admiring the lush beauty of the garden against the dark backdrop of the night sky. She felt his body tense at the question, and briefly wondered if she had gone too far. “You needn’t speak of her, if you would rather not.”
“No, no, it’s been two years now, and I suppose I should be able to speak about it by now.”
And so he told her the story of his youthful marriage, how it had begun with such promise, and then, over time, began to fade when his wife’s longings to live like the aristocrat she was caused a rift between them.
“Genny had great hopes of someday regaining the title and estates that were lost in the revolution, but each year that the war went on without resolution, her bitterness grew, until it began to spread to my daughter. It was no use reasoning with Genny or her mother, the displaced countess.” His voice cracked. “There was nothing I could do to make her happy, not even when there was more money to spend, for gowns, for redecorating, and such. It didn’t help that her younger sister wed the brother of a duke and socialized in the highest circles.”
“Ah, Lord Nicholas. He lost his wife in the same accident, did he not?”
“He did, y
es. He and Juliette were a true love match. Juliette never showed any signs of discontent with her situation, but then, she married into a ducal family—Lord Nicholas is still the presumed heir, as his brother has only daughters—and being the younger sister, she couldn’t aspire to the hereditary title, even if it still existed.”
Vanessa squeezed his hand, wishing she knew how to help him. As an unmarried woman, she was hardly qualified to give marital advice. But she was old enough to have learned that marriages that had begun happily could still go wrong, particularly when one or both parties were very young.
“Marriage is always a risk,” she began, “for the woman, since she gives herself to her husband and loses the limited rights she had as an independent woman. And ‘till death do us part’ can be a disaster if the parties grow and change and find they no longer care for one another.” She cleared her throat. “I confess I had doubts when my sister wished to wed at barely seventeen. But she was adamant, and I have come to believe that Reese sincerely loves Genie and their son and would never choose to destroy that.”
“Seventeen,” George murmured. “Only two years older than Louise.” Then he turned to Vanessa. “Have you never wished to marry, Miss Sedgely? I have no wish to be impertinent, but I have found myself wondering if you have forsworn the institution for yourself, or whether it is a matter of not finding the right gentleman. Because I cannot believe that a lovely, intelligent young lady as yourself should be lacking suitors.”
Vanessa grinned. “Why, Mr. Durand, you will have me blushing,” she teased. “No, in all seriousness, I have not had a serious suitor since I was eighteen—that was six years ago, mind you—and my esteemed fiancé deserted me to flee to Gretna Green with a milkmaid.”
Mr. Durand’s eyes looked to pop out of their sockets. “No, really? A milkmaid?”
“I’m told she was rather pretty.”
“What a ramshackle fellow he must have been! I suppose you were heartbroken.”
Vanessa shrugged. “Humiliated, more like. It was an arranged marriage, you see. My parents—my mother, really—have always wished to work their way into the lower aristocracy, and he was a baron. And at the time, I would have done anything to win their approval.” She sighed deeply. “I had a brother a year younger than I who died of a fever when he was two. I had it as well, but survived. I’ve always felt my parents blamed me for that. When Eugenia came along, it was as though I didn’t exist.”
She put her hands on his upper arms and smiled up at him. “But that is all water under the bridge. Eugenia is a lovely person and I love her dearly. My mother—well, she is who she is. While I have learned to deal with her, I should not be at all reluctant to marry some kind and trustworthy gentleman and manage my own household. And I shouldn’t be at all put off if he were to have a daughter of his own.”
For a moment, George looked dazed, and then his eyes filled with tenderness, and he bent down to take her chin in his hand and touch her lips with his. Vanessa hooked her arms around his neck in attempt to get closer. His lips were firm and persistent, and she trembled with a desire she had never felt before. His hands slid to her waist, and he pulled her closer to him, so that she could feel the strength of his hard body. Vanessa lost all rational thought, her only desire being to never have to let go of this dear man ever again.
“Vanessa!”
It was Mrs. Sedgely, and she was enraged.
“Mrs. Sedgely—” George began.
“You!” she cried. “Do not even speak to me—I am so angry I shan’t be able to contain myself.”
Cotter, Vanessa’s abigail, ventured forward hesitantly. “Mr. Durand, sir. There is a message for you. The Herringtons’ servants have been searching for you for quite some time. I believe it is urgent.”
George’s hand flew to his chest. “Louise! It must be Louise!” He looked at Vanessa apologetically. “I beg your pardon, my dear. I must leave you now, but I will call on you tomorrow if I can.”
He bowed his head to both ladies and rushed through the door.
Vanessa’s eyes followed him, feeling disoriented. “Louise! What can have happened to her?”
Her mother’s lips formed into a fine line. “Do not be a fool! You have much more to worry about than a silly chit. Do you not realize that your scandalous rendezvous with that-that scoundrel was witnessed by at least half of the guests in the ballroom?” She pointed to the pair of double doors that had been propped open for the purpose of drawing air into the ballroom. “You have made our family the laughingstock of the ton!”
Vanessa looked through the open doors at the throng of disapproving faces staring at her.
Bloody hell!
Chapter 7
“Are you sure there is a ball here?” Louise asked Monsieur Gagnon, her dancing master, as she peered out the window at the building at which their hackney coach had pulled up. “Where are the other carriages? It seems so—quiet.”
She had expected a Cyprians’ ball to be raucous and unruly, with bold, devil-may-care gentlemen leering down the bodices of semi-clothed “ladies.” The building to which she had been brought seemed as quietly respectable as those around it.
“Bien sûr que non,” responded Monsieur Gagnon. “There is a mews at the back, naturellement.”
“Hmm.” But she stepped down from the carriage and accompanied him to the front door. She was beginning to doubt the wisdom of agreeing to sneak away with her dancing master to visit such a scandalous event. How well did she know him, after all? At the time, however, the only thought in her mind was repaying her father for escorting Miss Sedgely to the ball. Surely he hadn’t thought she would spend the evening alone in her room while he paid court to a woman young enough to be his daughter!
A burly footman opened the door, and nodded at her escort. “Madame is in the saloon. You may wait in her office.”
Office?
“But what about the ball? Is there no Cyprians’ ball here?”
The footman guffawed. “A ball? Is that what you told her?”
Monsieur Gagnon shrugged. “I did not think she would be so eager to flee with me to a bordel.”
Louise’s eyes bulged. “You brought me to a brothel? But-but, why?”
As much as she wanted to believe there was a reasonable explanation, her instincts were screaming at her that she was in danger. For one thing, her formerly amiable dancing master had a very unpleasant expression on his face when he looked at her.
“You are so crédule, Miss Durand. So imprudent. Vraiment, you are far too trusting.” When they reached their destination, he pushed her into a chair.
“Tais-toi!” he ordered when she tried to protest.
Now that triggered Louise’s ire. How dare he—a mere dancing master—address the granddaughter of a comte with such disrespect!
“I insist that you take me home immediately!”
When she rose from the chair, he pushed her down again. “What you want is of no interest to me, ma chère.”
“My father will see you in irons at Newgate!”
“Now, now, my dear. Do restrain yourself. You will be safely returned to your father, as soon as he agrees to our terms.”
The new arrival was a middle-aged woman in a low-cut gown of mulberry silk, a crimson turban with peacock-colored feathers on her head. As she approached the lamp, Louise could see that her face was painted like a strumpet’s. Or at least how she imagined a strumpet’s face would be painted.
“Terms? What terms? Who are you?”
“Lucille Harding. I am the proprietor here. Welcome to the Pleasure Palace.” The woman held out her hand, which Louise ignored.
“You may call me ‘Madame.’”
She sat down at the desk in front of them, pulled out a sheet of foolscap, dipped her quill in an inkwell, and began to write. Finally, she signed her name with a flourish, folded the paper, and sealed it with red wax.
“Instruct Jem to deliver this immediately to Mr. Durand’s residence on Gresham Street.”
/> “You shall not find him there. He is attending a ball at Lady Herrington’s.”
Mrs. Harding—if that was truly her name—gave her a condescending smile. “How very thoughtful of you to be so cooperative, Miss Durand. In that case, the message will be delivered directly to him at the Herringtons’.”
Assisting her abductors was not Louise’s intention. She was simply hoping that the sooner her father knew about her predicament, the sooner she would be freed from these despicable villains.
“Escort our guest to the gold room, Jem. Be sure to lock the door when you leave. Return the key to me as soon as she is settled.”
She handed over a large key, and smiled at Louise. “Some wine, perhaps, to soothe her nerves. There is a bottle on the cabinet that should do nicely for the occasion.”
What occasion was that? Louise determined then and there that she would not touch the blasted wine.
“So it’s not money they’re after, then?”
Lord Nicholas leaned forward in his chair to reread the message on his desk, his eyes still adjusting to the candlelight after having been awakened from a sound sleep by a frantic George Durand at two in the morning.
George was pacing back and forth in front of him. “Nothing so simple. The abductors are demanding that I persuade the Board of Governors at the Foundling Hospital to cease their efforts to have the brothels in London permanently shut down.” He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “How can I possibly do that? I am merely a legal consultant.”
“What’s more, even if you should manage to carry out their demands, they must know that the bill could be reintroduced at a later time.”
George halted. “They don’t intend to return her at all.” He stared at his friend in utter horror.
“Here is your brandy, sir.” Nicholas’s butler appeared in the doorway with a silver tray upon which stood two crystal glasses.
Holly and Hopeful Hearts Page 7