by Jane Charles
* * *
Bianca stood with her sisters, Isabella and Perdita, as far away from the crowd as possible. None of them wished to be a part of this event, but they couldn’t exactly hide in their rooms while her sister and brother-in-law held their first official ball. “So, this is Society?” She’d never felt more out of place in her life.
“It is grand,” Perdita mussed and sipped from her glass of punch.
“The ladies’ dresses are lovely,” Isabella observed.
“I’d like to know where our brothers are,” Perdita complained.
“They’ll be fashionably late, or each will have an excuse that kept them from attending,” said Isabella.
The crowds thickened as more people were announced and entered the ballroom. There wouldn’t be room to move, let alone dance by the time everyone arrived. She now understood why some of these events were referred to as a crush.
“I don’t believe I’m feeling well,” Isabella announced.
Bianca looked at her sister who had gone exceedingly pale.
Alarm shot through Bianca. “What is it?”
“My stomach.” Though Isabella answered, her eyes were fixed at the top of the stairs.
“Lord and Lady Kenley,” The butler announced. “Lords Nathaniel, Samuel and Peter Storm, and Ladies Hannah, Tabitha and Deborah Storm.”
“I believe their family is nearly as large as ours,” Perdita giggled.
“I need to leave.”
Before Bianca could stop her, Isabella slipped through the crowd and exited the ballroom at the opposite direction of those entering.
She glanced back to the new arrivals. Was one of them the cause of her sister’s distress? She grasped her skirts, intent on going after Isabella to find out what was wrong when Mr. East appeared at the top of the stairs. Her heart stopped as her breath caught in her chest. Dressed formally in a black coat with tails, over a red waistcoat. The white of his cravat was stark against the remaining tan on his face. Her mouth went dry. She’d never seen him dress so fine, but why was he here? Had Rosalind invited him?
“His Grace, the Duke of Roxburg,” the butler announced.
Bianca blinked and looked to the side and behind Mr. East, but no one else was there.
Her pulse began to pound and all other sounds disappeared and she watched Mr. East descend the stairs and those close to him dip into a deep curtseys or bow.
The room began to buzz with low conversations and a number of fans went up as ladies discussed the new arrival in hushed tones, though she heard the words, dancing master, Mr. East, His Grace and Roxburg strewn together in sentences, all the while keeping their focus on Mr. East.
No. It couldn’t be.
Tears stung her eyes and she bent her head. “I need to check on Isabella.” With that, she practically ran from the room, following the path her sister had taken.
She gained Isabella’s door and opened it without knocking and rushed inside.
Tears streaked Isabella’s face. “I cannot go back down there. Please don’t make me.”
Bianca simply stared at her. “I have no intention of doing so.” The last place she wanted to be was in the ballroom with His Grace.
She was such a bloody fool. She knew she shouldn’t have allowed herself to develop tender feelings for Mr. East the dancing master. Now to learn the truth, was beyond humiliating. How he must have laughed at her. And, his friends must have known. The night at Thorns’, they all knew and nobody said a word to her.
Tears scalded her cheeks but she had no desire to swipe them away. If she never spoke to another gentleman again she would be quite happy and she was certainly going to refuse to attend any further social events. If necessary, she’d return home to Hampshire and never leave again.
She and Isabella climbed onto the high bed and leaned back against the pillows.
“Do you wish to tell me why you can’t go back down?” Bianca asked.
“I can’t,” Isabella sniffed. “Do you want to tell me?”
Tears welled in Bianca’s eyes. “I can’t.”
In agreement, they both grew silent and cried. Even though she knew her sister was hurting as much as she was, Bianca had no idea of the cause and was at a loss to help her. How could she when her heart had just been shattered? At least, they had the comfort of each other even if they never spoke of this again.
Chapter 19
Mark barely caught sight of Bianca as she dashed from the room, her head down, disappearing through door and down a long corridor. By the time he reached it, she was nowhere to be found.
Blast! He’d expected her to be shocked, even angry, but not to disappear completely.
“Oh, dear. I do hope Miss Valentine returns,” Lady Acker said as she and Acker approached him.
“I don’t believe she will,” Acker said. His eyes were cold on Mark.
Surely, he could make her understand. Of course it was a shock to learn who he was, but it wasn’t as though he were a stable boy masquerading as dancing instructor, but a duke. Most ladies would be pleased with the surprise.
His gut tightened further. Anyone except Bianca Valentine, who simply wanted to compose beautiful music.
“Give her time,” Lady Acker finally said. “Though I wouldn’t rule out groveling or gifts either.”
He’d give Bianca anything she wished, if only she’d forgive him.
Thorn and his wife approached him next. She was shaking her head, nearly chastising him with her eyes.
“I’ve made a mess of everything,” he confided quietly.
“That would be an understatement,” Thorn laughed.
His wife shot him a disapproving look, causing the smile to slip from Thorn’s lips.
“If she listens to her brother’s counsel, perhaps all is not lost,” Delaney added.
Her brother? “The ghost?” Mark still wasn’t certain he believed everything his friends had told him the other evening. Ghosts, relics, possessions. It was all rather farfetched. Yet, Bianca had believed Delaney and truly thought her brother was with her. If it were anyone else, Mark might be concerned with their hold on sanity, but Bianca was one of the most levelheaded, serious misses he knew, and the reason he was half-tempted to believe that Bertram was near.
“I will call on her tomorrow if she does not appear tonight,” Mrs. Thorn assured him.
“As will I,” Mrs. Chetwey echoed, with a smile and sympathy in her eyes.
His friends parted just then as the Duke of Eldridge approached with Lady Jillian Simpson on his arm. Even if he’d lost Bianca, or had never even met her, Lady Jillian was not for him.
“I understand that you pretended to be a dancing master, fooling everyone for the last few weeks.”
Mark simply nodded.
“You gave my daughter instruction?”
“Yes.”
“I’m pleased introductions are out of the way, and you have my permission to escort her about the room.”
Mark arched a brow. Eldridge was rather bold, even for a duke, but Mark was not one to embarrass any young lady. “It is very kind of you, Eldridge.” Then he turned to Lady Jillian and offered his arm.
As soon as they were away from her father’s listening ears, Lady Jillian whispered, “I apologize for my father.”
Mark wasn’t sure what he’d expected from her but it certainly wasn’t an apology to be the first words she uttered.
“You and I both know that nothing will come from this stroll, but I would appreciate you feigning interest, if you don’t mind.”
Was this the same young woman who had pronounced to the room that they were as good as betrothed that first day, simply because of their rank?
“You are a conundrum, Lady Jillian.”
“Yes, I suppose you might believe so.” She smiled. “Unlike you, I’ve been raised as the daughter of a duke from birth and certain things are expected of me. How I conduct myself in society, who I speak with and how.”
“And, who you are to marry.”
She sighed. “Yes. You are my third failure.”
Though he had no intention on encouraging Lady Jillian, Mark pointed out, “This is my first day in Society. Officially.”
Lady Jillian chuckled. “As if that matters.” She looked up and her blue eyes met his. “A person would need to be blind not to see how you watched Miss Valentine.”
Had he been so obvious? Mark thought he hid his attraction well. Especially when others were near.
“She, however, may feel differently now that she knows the truth.”
“So, I’ve gathered.”
“Do you still wish to pursue her?”
Mark wasn’t sure how to answer. In truth, it wasn’t anyone’s concern but his own. “Why?”
“Because I’d be disappointed if you were only toying with her affections.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I suppose you would not.” Lady Jillian sighed again and they came to a stop beside large windows, away from the ears of society. “If a gentleman looked at me the way you looked at Miss Valentine, I’d throw caution to the wind and risk my father’s displeasure, to be able to experience knowing someone who would love me for me.”
“Even a dancing master?”
“Yes.” She glanced over his shoulder and suddenly smiled and laughed. “My father is watching so I must charm you. Please be charmed.”
Mark laughed. There were more layers to Lady Jillian than he realized. He still had no intention of pursing her over Bianca. Yet, she still intrigued him.
“What first fascinated me was knowing Roxburg lived in Barbados. I fully intended on bringing you up to scratch in hopes that you’d wish to live far away from Society most of the year.”
“We are of similar rank.”
“Which is more of a deterrent than appealing.” She fluttered her eyelashes, as if flirting. “As you are not even thirty yet, that also held some appeal.”
“And wealthy,” Mark countered.
“Does not bring happiness.” Her smile slipped. “Please let this conversation remain between us. Seek out Bianca. Do not let her get away. She looks at you in the same manner as you look at her, when neither is looking.”
“What of your father and what he wishes?”
“If Bianca refuses you, you might look upon me in favor, which would please my father.”
“If Bianca refuses,” which he prayed she did not. “I might pursue you.”
“Please, do not. I don’t wish to be involved with a gentleman who has already given his heart to another.”
The way she said the words, Marks suspected that had happened to Lady Jillian before. Twice, if his investigator was correct.
“What you have done, however, is given me courage.”
“How so?” Mark couldn’t imagine what he’d done would encourage anyone.
“To look beyond. I tire of being forced to judge everyone by rank, treat acquaintances as if they are beneath me. What I really wish for is a friend. A true friend, which is why I’m reaching out to you. You are thumbing your nose at what is expected of you and I’ve long wished to do the same.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“My parents make it an impossibility. It’s more pleasant to behave as they expect than to defy them. I’ve done that once before, paid the price, and will not do so again.”
There was a deep sadness in Lady Jillian. One he hadn’t recognized before, but he suspected she hid it deep.
“I wish you well with Bianca. I admire her and her siblings. Though, if you ever tell anyone I said such a thing, I will deny it.”
Mark frowned. “You know the Valentines?”
“Not well, but I know of the family.”
“How?”
“That,” she laughed, “is a story for another day.” She blinked, looking over his shoulder. “We must return. My father is beginning to frown.”
Mark lifted her gloved hand and placed a kiss in the air above it. “Perhaps you will save me a waltz?”
Lady Jillian held out her card to him. “Of course. I have studied with the best.”
Mark chuckled and took the card from her and penciled his name by the next waltz. “If Bianca returns?” Should he tie himself up with another lady?
“I will graciously allow her my place.”
Lady Jillian was not the person he thought she was. She was certainly the spoiled daughter of a duke, but there was a kindness within her that he’d not seen before.
“Three of your favorite students are hoping to gain your attention.”
Mark glanced up at the smirk on Lady Jillian’s lips as he returned her dance card.
She nodded across the room. “Ladies June, Henrietta and Katherine are speaking to their parents, motioning in your direction.”
Instead of encouraging the rudest debutantes he’d ever encountered, Mark inclined his head to their fathers, who were once acquaintances of his and then turned his back, focusing once again on Lady Jillian.
“Oh dear.” She raised a gloved hand to her lips and giggled. “Their very first evening in Society and already the cut direct from a duke.”
“Well, perhaps it will improve their disposition.”
* * *
Bianca glanced up as Rosalind, Demetrius and Benedick stormed into the room she and Isabella had been hiding in since almost the beginning of the ball
“Explain to me why the two of you remained up here all evening.”
She couldn’t really blame Rosalind for being angry. This was her ball and they’d promised to be in attendance. And, it wasn’t the first time Rosalind had turned her wrath on Bianca and Isabella. In fact, as the oldest sister, Rosalind been doing that since Bianca could remember, often taking on the mothering role even though she was only two years older, disciplining and being bossy whenever she deemed it necessary. Though it hadn’t occurred in a number of years, Bianca fully expected to be on the receiving end of one of those lectures from youth.
“I suddenly wasn’t feeling well,” Isabella said, crossing her hands over her stomach.
“Nor, I.” Bianca mimicked her sister’s actions.
“Odd,” Demetrius began. “You were a picture of health until the Storms were announced.” He pinned Isabella with a look. “Care to explain? Which one of them hurt you?”
Bianca looked at her sister. A broken heart could only explain Isabella crying up here.
“They did nothing to me.” She jutted out her chin. “I was overcome with emotions and memories.”
“Explain!” Benedick barked.
Tears flooded Isabella’s eyes. “I knew Captain Nathaniel Storm during my time on the Peninsula. I last saw him the day after Waterloo. Shortly after I learned of what happened to Bertram. It was a shock I was struck with memories of that time. I couldn’t remain.”
Benedick narrowed his eyes, but relaxed.
If memories of Waterloo were so upsetting to her sister, why was Isabella working at Kirkland House? Every man she came in contact with daily would remind her of Waterloo.
No, it was something else and she suspected his name was Captain Nathaniel Storm. And, as much as she’d like to question her sister, Bianca would not do so with her brothers in the room.
“Your running away is at least clear,” Demetrius said with sympathy when he looked at Bianca. “Did His Grace never tell you who he really was?”
All Bianca could do was shake her head. “Not that it matters. He was a dancing master and I was his accompanist.”
“Rosalind explained that you began to play again, but only after you met Mr. East.”
“It’s a coincidence. The two have nothing to do with each other.” They might have believed her if tears hadn’t welled in her eyes. “Leave it be. I will not be seeing His Grace again, and wish to forget I ever met him.”
Benedick sank down onto the bed beside Bianca and took her hand. “Did he mean so much?”
She shook her head. “Even though he was a dancing master, I always knew that whatever tender feelings that m
ay have developed could never become anything more than my secret.”
“Have you learned nothing?” he asked gently. “All you need do is look to Rosalind and her marriage to know what fate you always believed to be true might not be.”
“He’s a duke!” Tears fell from the corner of her eyes. “And he lied to me.”
Chapter 20
He’d made a bloody mess of things. He should have told Bianca before the ball who he truly was. Then maybe she wouldn’t have run out on him. Felding claimed she’d become ill.
His stomach churned. Bianca was not ill, but had run out on him.
The night then proceeded to be the longest of his life and though he watched and waited, Bianca never returned.
“The Duke of Eldridge to see you, Your Grace.”
Why the blazes was Eldridge here? Mark had left the ball not an hour ago and it was going on two in the morning. “Send him in.”
Eldridge walked into the room, his face stern and unyielding. “I realize you have been on an island, most likely living like a barbarian, but there are certain things that are expected of a duke.”
Mark nearly choked on his rum. “Such as.”
“One does not set out to fool all of society by playing at a dancing master, to learn the secrets of the ton.”
“How does one learn secrets?” He wasn’t about to be intimidated by Eldridge. They were of equal rank even if the man was old enough to be his father.
“By hiring trustworthy and competent investigators, of course.” The man took a seat. “Pour me whatever you are having. You and I are to have a chat.”
This was the last thing Mark wanted but it was best to get it out of the way. If he was going to be called to task with how he’s handled his duties so far, it was best to deal with it now and move on.
He poured and then handed the glass to Eldridge who took a drink and then frowned. “What the blazes is this?”
“Rum.”
“Good God, I’ve a lot to teach you. It’s a shame your uncle didn’t survive to train you properly.”