What would the duke think if he learned her skin wasn't tanned by the sun, but by black blood? How he couldn't think well of her, when she didn't know what to think? Why was she borne of lust? What could explain the sin of breaking marital bonds?
A knock at the door broke made her shiver, but her heart slowed as she eyed her bed and the safe blue walls of Chevron Manor. "Come in."
Julia pressed inside. A smile lit her face.
Gaia's heart warmed. It seemed like forever since her sister seemed happy.
"Let me help you with your gown. You looked very pretty this evening, Gaia. See, you didn't need pink." Julia untied and unbuttoned the tail and waistband of the grey silk.
Well, the duke thought so. Smiling, she pivoted from the mirror and gave Julia a big hug. "You are always lovely."
Her sister drew her arms about Gaia's neck. "I was so worried that you wouldn't understand."
Gaia stepped back, breaking the embrace. "Understand what?"
Julia's voice lowered, "About Elliot."
Holding her breath, Gaia held her anger inside. "Then, you do remember how I feel."
"In London, he met me on Bond Street, and was so chivalrous, carrying my bundles." The girl looked down at the floorboards as she twisted her fingers in knots. "I helped to relieve his disappointment with Millicent. That's when I saw what you've always claimed. Elliot is the dearest of men. He'll not be deterred by my shyness."
Gaia let her silk dress fall to the floor. She stepped on her gown, trampling the pleats, as if it were her heart. Picking up her muslin robe, she covered her stays and pivoted to her sister.
Tears filled Julia's eyes. "I am so grateful to you."
Gripping the post of her bed, as if she'd fall in a faint, Gaia put her full weight against the footboard. "Has he declared his intentions?"
"No, but not a ball in London passed without him seeking me out for a dance. We know he's the marrying kind, with his mismatch with our cousin." Julia floated toward her. Her graceful movements imitated a swan gliding on the pond. "I'm sure if no one else catches his eye, he will come up to scratch. I won't be an old maid."
Was it that simple? Would Julia use guilt to remove rivals from the field of battle? Given Gaia's meek nature, her heart for her siblings, she grieved. How could Julia try to take advantage of her?
Even as she stared at her, another notion struck. Julia actually believed Gaia to be competition. Her sister was tall, with milky skin. Every man of sense desired that. Chest aching, as if she'd been stabbed, she lifted wet eyes to Julia. "Do you love him?"
A blank expression filled Julia's countenance as her mouth drew to a dot. "I respect him and his research."
Blood pulsing so hard, Gaia's ears throbbed. "Do you know what it is?"
Julia wiped her cheeks as her eyes zipped from side to side. Then she tapped with her new sleek ballroom slippers and raised her head. "It's plants."
A sour taste, like bitter lemons, landed on Gaia's tongue. Her sister was going after Elliot because he was available, nothing more. How could that be fair to either? "Julia, you are lovely. You don't have to wed a man you don't love."
A hollow stream of laughter fell from Julia's lips. "Yes, and I'll be as happy as our mother and father were." More wretched chuckles descended, until nothing but a choked cry filled the air. She wiped her runny nose on her sleeve. "She found happiness once. I saw it."
"Tell me about him, my father."
Julia tugged at one of her blonde curls, wrapping it about her pinkie. "Then you know."
"Please, sister, tell me."
"He was a foreigner, a bard who strummed a violin. His voice felt like honey. I think Mama brought him here to teach singing lessons."
From the little Gaia could remember of her mother, the memories did have music. "How could she break her vows? They are a promise."
"I don't know. Maybe she felt trapped. Maybe Grandfather only approved of Father because of his land and because he was a gentleman. Maybe she didn't have a choice in marriage. So many good men are tradesmen or teachers... a dance master."
Who was she talking about, Mama or herself? "Julia, do you feel trapped?"
Her sister swiped at her eyes. Her usually-soft voice sounded harsh, like a screeching cat. "I am. I'm twenty-six. I want a comfortable home, and the respect marriage will bring. Elliot Whimple is my last chance."
Intending on shaking some sense into the girl, Gaia rushed to her sister and gripped her elbows. "How will it be good when you are acting out of fear? You don't love Elliot. Will the lack of love drive you to sin, just like our mother? That weakness wasn't fair to your father nor will it be to Elliot."
She pushed at Gaia's shoulder and broke free, sending Gaia crashing to the mattress. Her crown barely missed the footboard's post.
Julia stood over her. "Don't judge me. Don't let your childish feelings interfere."
"Interfere? Yes, I suppose loving Elliot for more years than I can count is interfering. I'm not going to slink away. And I will dance with him the next opportunity."
Backing away, Julia's hands shook. "Do you think he'd choose you if knew the truth of your birth?"
Gaia sat up and bottled the fear such whispers would conjure, but she was done with lies. "I will tell the man I marry. If he loves me, it will not matter."
"I don't want to hurt you, Gaia, but if the truth becomes known, Elliot won't be allowed to love you. His parents, the expectations of his family, will weigh heavy on him. He'll be like Mother, and won't be able to withstand the onslaught. We'll both lose him."
No. Elliot was different. He had to be made of tougher stuff. Yet Gaia couldn't remember a time when he went against common thinking. Wasn't it his father's tease about Millicent's money and looks that set their brief courtship into motion?
"Please, Gaia. Let him choose me. Don't add to my shame, and I won't add to yours."
The door slammed. The closeness to her sister was gone, all because of a man. Gaia wept and punched at the mattress. She wouldn't be guilted or frightened into giving up on Elliot, even if it meant the loss of her sister's love or being exposed to the world as a mulatto. But was she ready to be seen, truly seen by society as a mistake?
Shaved and stuffed into a cinnamon-colored waistcoat and breeches, William tried to close his eyes and rest. A few bounces of the carriage and a sway from a gulley in the road prevented it. His whole body ached, and his head felt full, as if it would burst.
Singling out a young woman at a ball had consequences. To not visit her the day after would be a slight. He'd do nothing to disparage Miss Gaia Telfair. Yet what better excuse could he have to show up at her doorstep in person? Gaining help from the Telfairs was only a few rituals away.
"So we are going to further a connection with the studious Miss Telfair.” Stelford's wide, cat-like grin irritated William.
"Yes. I also hope they will soon be dining at Ontredale." He sat back, his lips lifting into a smile. "If Miss Telfair will spare some time to help Mary, or teach me how to communicate with my daughter, all this trouble would be worth it."
"A great honor you offer to them. Why not admit that this chit has caught your fancy?"
No. Fancy-catching meant a commitment to an honorable lady like Miss Telfair. Like a shaft of iron had pierced his chest, he wrestled with his cravat. That part of his heart no longer worked, crushed by Elizabeth and his own unrequited expectations. "I'm not dead, Stelford. I notice a pretty girl, but maybe you noticed the terror in my little girl's cries last night. That's my only concern."
"Well, sin starts with the eyes then works its way into ideas. Unless you've become your sainted father, there's no need to pretend you don't have needs."
Before William could lash out at the grinning fop, the carriage slowed. Head aching from lack of sleep, he crawled out, straightened his posture, and walked in step with Stelford. Long stalks of yellow gorse lined the flagstone pathway. The coconut scent of the flowering thicket filled his flared nostrils.
H
e whipped a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. Surely, his friend couldn't be right. There was a difference between friendship and amour.
He and Stelford stood under the soft Doulting stone fashioning the door hood, and knocked. No twin girls were about, so the carriage team was safe.
One of the devilish cherubs appeared and led them to the cheery parlor of light-colored lime-washed walls. No matches or looking glasses lined the child's fingers. "Are you playing more safely today, miss—"
"Helena Telfair." She looked down, her foot tapping. "Yes, Father has banned us from even looking at candlelight."
William stripped off his gloves, coat and hat, and offered a smile. "Good man, Mr. Telfair." The child scampered away, disappearing into Chevron.
Stelford dropped their cards into an empty bowl. They were the first visitors? It was well past noon.
Mrs. Telfair and Mrs. Monlin sat in chairs by the fireplace. A table spread with treats and teacups lay in front of them.
The ladies stood and made a short curtsy as Mr. Telfair waved them forward. "Do come in, gentlemen."
The older man with greying blond hair and a thin frame plopped back down into a chair by Mrs. Telfair. He was clad in a brocade robe and dressing gown, as if he didn't expect company.
William held his hand out to the man and shook his. "Are you feeling well, Mr. Telfair?"
The fellow eyed him with squinting brown eyes. "Well enough to attend you here at Chevron. To what do we owe the pleasure?"
His tone was low, almost harsh. Again, William admired the suspicion. "We are calling on few after the ball. 'Twas a lovely affair."
Still grimacing, the man nodded and waved them to sit.
What game was this? Surely the ladies had spoken of William's singling out Miss Gaia. Shouldn't a father be pleased? "I came to deepen my acquaintance with the Telfair family."
An off-pitch chord caught William's attention. He swiveled his neck, gaze trailing the low ceiling, slipping along a plaster-covered beam to a corner niche. He gaped at the majestic sight, the detailed moldings, the small pianoforte, the lovely Gaia instructing Master Timothy.
The chair railing and the plaster medallion decorating the curved wall surrounded her like a fanned headdress. She looked exotic, her graceful wrists rising and lowering to the soft notes of her tune. Lack of sleep must really have him flustered to have passed her at the entrance.
Note after note, Timothy mocked each sound with his soft voice. A little piece of his soul imagined the lady singing to Mary, and his daughter repeating. If he'd done it right, Mary might have responded last night.
"Your Grace."
"Yes?" He returned his attention to the old man.
Mr. Telfair leaned forward, his chin whipping between William and Gaia. "Are you here to speak of intentions? I must warn you that it is a Telfair tradition to not have the younger girls out before the eldest is settled."
Another harsh chord sounded from the corner.
Withholding a chuckle, he swallowed a cough growling in his throat. "I am following your other advice, and becoming more integrated into the community."
Mr. Telfair rubbed his jaw. "All my girls and Gaia are fine daughters. But I must warn you, the Hallows' Ball was a rare exception of my rules."
Stelford picked up a biscuit. "Rules are meant to be broken, and nothing better than a ball to test them." His friend's countenance was smooth and pleasant. Well, at least he was democratic in tweaking noses.
Mrs. Monlin picked up a set of knitting needles, her eyes rolling. "Don't mind my brother. Sarah and I will smooth his ruffled feathers. All the girls will have their share of amusement. How long will you gentlemen visit Devonshire?"
"I am at the Duke's disposal." Stelford shifted in his chair and adjusted a striped cushion.
Mrs. Monlin leaned over and drained the last of the tea. "Sarah, can you see about getting our guests some more refreshments?"
The spry Mrs. Telfair popped up. "Of course. Your Grace, please continue to share your plans for the season." She left the room.
Feeling the heat of the brother-sister team now beaming back at him, William took a quick breath then spoke up. "We will definitely be here through the summer. Might even winter here. Devonshire is one of my favorite places. I was born here, but it's been a long time since I've been here."
With a raise of his brow, Mr. Telfair leaned forward. His dull eyes seemed to bear down on William. "Who are your relations? We should know them."
"The St. Landons. My father held the living at the vicarage."
"Vicar St. Landon?" Mr. Telfair stared at him, as if this was a first meeting. "You're St. Landon's son, the one who went very early into the regiment?"
"Guilty."
Wiping crumbs from her mouth, Mrs. Monlin winced. "A St. Landon; you don't seem anything like him, well, a little in the height, but such a pleasant expression on your face."
Yes. Father wasn't known to smile. Kind expressions were wasteful, with so many for the vicar to condemn. "He was a very stern man," William swallowed, "but a good man."
The pinch gripping Mrs. Monlin's lips didn't falter, and creases folded her forehead. "You never visited before now, not even at the vicar's passing."
"Napoleon didn't set his battles to my life's journey. It was regrettable." Air slowly streamed from his tight lips as guilt pressed upon his lungs. "Very regrettable."
Mr. Telfair sat back and crossed his arms, skepticism seeming to flow from the tense set of his posture. "I didn't know St. Landon was related to persons in peerage. Why didn't you mention this before."
"We were distant cousins to the late Duke of Cheshire. After the death of his son, he made himself know to the St. Landons. He reclaimed Ontredale and restored it to a handsome house, a symbol of renewing the Devonshire branch of the family. He even purchased my first commission." The late duke was more like a doting uncle than cousin; encouraging, bolstering… nothing like his father.
William filled his lungs, trying to forget every reason he’d avoided mentioning his connections to the harsh vicar. "As for the Vicar St. Landon, I'd rather be known on my own merits. Some don't have fond memories of him."
Mrs. Monlin nodded in silent agreement. She fluffed the edges of her mobcap. "Enough of this morbid talk. Death frequents far too often. We should talk of music and celebration, the next celebration, the Masques Ball. It's the highlight of the country these past eight years. So many engagements have occurred because of such beautiful evenings."
William blinked at the mention of engagements, but his attention returned to the soft music playing from the niche. "I like beauty."
Both Stelford and Mrs. Monlin began to laugh, but he wasn't sure if the humor was from his statement or his careless glances at Gaia.
Mrs. Telfair returned. The elder sister, Julia, followed, bearing a fresh service of tea and biscuits. The prim girl adorned in pale, salmon-colored muslin offered him a delicate bone cup. She filled it, but he waved off the sugar and cream. No need to water down the richness of the chamomile.
The sister sat on the sofa, to the right of everyone. Her hem floated, sweeping across her thin ankles. She was quiet, though his friend looked her way a few times.
Another five minutes of Mrs. Monlin and Stelford's tidbits of the Hallows' Ball engulfed the seated party with laughs, but Miss Julia said nothing, and sipped her tea.
She reminded William of a pastel portrait, with her light hair and eyes, but like a canvas lacking dimension, without any detectable conversation.
Those with a voice should use it. What he wouldn't give to hear Mary's reciting words, and no longer given to hellish cries.
He stole a quick glance toward the pianoforte. His gaze locked with his spectacled dance partner, and he absorbed the neat, tawny chignon and the buttermilk gown hanging on her curvy frame.
A bite of biscuit did little to stop his tapping foot. Patience wasn't his virtue. He rounded back to his host and waited for a lull in Mrs. Monlin's noise about the
length of lace she'd seen at the ball.
Finally, the woman took a breath and a piece of scone.
"I would like to invite you all to Ontredale Hall for dinner at the end of the week," William announced, as if the words burned his tongue. In a way, they had.
Mrs. Telfair beamed. "We have no other engagements. We would be honored."
Mr. Telfair grimaced, but then nodded. "For a respectable son of St. Landon, it would be an honor."
The statement sounded as if it were a question. Well, knowing the baggage he carried of Elizabeth's affairs and the blackmail, it might be a fair one, but William would never expose such concerns to the man who could block the prayer warrior's help. "Good, I shall expect you, Mrs. Telfair, and both elder Telfair daughters, Miss Julia Telfair and Miss Gaia Telfair."
The old man's lips pinched, as if he'd sucked on lemons. "My daughters?"
Mrs. Monlin's eyes blazed like fire and, if she'd sat closer, the way her fingers fisted, she might have given her brother a punch. "Yes, of course both girls will be there."
The calm Mrs. Telfair put a hand on her husband's arm. "It is quite an honor for our girls and the Telfair name to be thusly invited."
Mr. Telfair nodded. "Yes, it is."
At least he got the man's agreement, but what was the problem? Perhaps William should reassure the man that this was a social outing, and nothing romantic. Yet, if he voiced that, the coercion of Mrs. Monlin and Mrs. Telfair might dissipate. An easier sigh filled William. He was but a week to his goal. His Mary would be advised by the one woman who knew what to do.
Before he could sit back and relax his shoulders against the broadcloth of the chair, a maid brought another visitor to the door. Mr. Whimple.
The fellow stopped, and whispered something to Miss Gaia that made her cheeks darken.
An off-key note from her pianoforte followed.
William stood, turning away from the couple, and walked to the window. He gripped the sill to do something with his hands instead of clenching them. A man who only noticed a sapphire like Gaia Telfair because of another's attention couldn't be worthy of her. "Mr. Telfair, there seems to be a smallish park on this side of the house."
Unmasked Heart: A Regency Romance (Regency Romance: Challenge of the Soul Book 1) Page 9