His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance)

by Chatham, Victoria

  “Relieved, I suspect, rather than ramshackle, Ma’am,” replied Lucius gallantly as he followed her.

  “I keep a simple house, my Lord. No wine, only porter or ale,” offered Mrs. Babbidge as she led the way along the hall and huffed with the effort of climbing the stairs at the end of it.

  “Ale will suffice for me and Mr. Beamish, and perhaps lemonade for my sister?”

  “Certainly.” Mrs. Babbidge led them into her sitting room. “Please be seated.”

  “Why, what a perfectly delightful room,” enthused Juliana, as she perched herself on a button backed chair.

  “It is, is it not?” Emmaline glanced around the room. The high ceiling was finished with elegant crown mouldings. French doors opened onto a narrow ornamental balcony. Afternoon sunshine streamed through the long window panes making the room appear light and spacious. She felt safe here and loved it all the more for the sense of security it afforded her.

  Removing her bonnet and pelisse she handed it to the elderly retainer who had silently followed them. “Thank you, Giles. How is the rheumatism today?”

  “Tolerable, Miss Em. Thank you for asking.”

  Emmaline smiled at the man. Mrs. Babbidge, seated on a sofa upholstered in kingfisher blue silk, clapped her hands.

  “That’s enough chit-chat, Giles. We mustn’t keep our guests waiting for their refreshment. Off you go.”

  Giles bowed his head and withdrew while Mrs. Babbidge turned her attention to Emmaline.

  “Now, young lady, perhaps you will introduce us all and then we can have a coze,” she said. “I never thought I’d have a Lord visit under my roof, and that’s a fact.”

  Lucius inclined his head in acknowledgement. “I trust we are not inconveniencing you?”

  Mrs. Babbidge shook her head, making her lace cap dance on top of her iron grey curls, her cheeks pink with pleasure. “Not at all. It is quite a treat to meet my Emmaline’s friends.”

  Emmaline immediately spoke up. “Oh, no, you are quite mistaken. His Lordship was quite unknown to me before this morning. My friendship, you see, is with Juliana.”

  Emmaline’s treacherous heart beat faster. No matter that one glance from Lucius could set her blood pounding, her great-aunt could not, must not, think for one moment that he was her friend.

  Lucius did not miss the faint flush staining Emmaline’s cheeks and his face creased into a slow, lazy smile.

  “Come now, Miss Devereux,” he admonished gently. ”Friendships have started on less auspicious occurrences, have they not Beamish?”

  Beamish laughed. “A bloody nose, to be exact.”

  “Aha,” Mrs. Babbidge nodded her head in understanding. “Schoolboy nonsense, I suspect.”

  Lucius laughed. “You know boys well, Mrs. Babbidge.”

  “I did, my Lord.” Mrs. Babbidge was suddenly serious. “My two both went for soldiering, but didn’t come back.”

  “My condolences, Ma’am.”

  “Well, that’s all in the past.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “But now Boney’s banged up on St. Helena and them Peninsula Wars is over there’s much more pleasant things afoot, like parties and dances and such.”

  “Does Miss Devereux have vouchers for Almack’s?” Lucius enquired.

  “No, my Lord. And very vexatious that is to me, I can tell you.”

  “Allow me to take care of that,” Lucius offered with a smile. “I will have them sent round directly.”

  “I cannot permit that,” Emmaline objected. Her eyes were wide with dismay. “It is enough that you brought me home. Anything else is too much of an imposition.”

  “Had you asked it of me, it might have been,” Lucius said. The smile still curved his lips and a hint of mischief glinted in his eyes. “But you didn’t and, you see, you will be doing me a favour.”

  “How so?” Emmaline shot him a suspicious glance.

  “By keeping Juliana company.”

  “It will be so much fun,” agreed Juliana. “Almost like old times.”

  “Of course she agrees!” said Mrs. Babbidge. “Why, Em, you silly goose, this will be your first step into society and is just what your grandfather hoped for.”

  “Consider it done.” Lucius stood up and bowed over his hostess’s hand. “And now, Ma’am, we will take our leave.”

  Juliana kissed Emmaline on the cheek. “I am so glad that you are in London.”

  Once the visitors had departed, Emmaline sank onto the sofa, her face in her hands.

  How much more of a disaster could this be? Vouchers to Almack’s would put her in the public eye, something she wanted to avoid at all costs.

  If only Juliana could have been at home this morning. If only she had not been obliged to give her direction to Lord Clifton.

  She got to her feet and went to the window, concealing herself in the folds of the long drapes. She watched Lucius get into the carriage, trying to unscramble her thoughts and remember what Juliana had told her of him.

  He gambled heavily on horses and at cards.

  A renowned whip and horseman.

  An expert with sword and pistol.

  He engaged one mistress after another.

  “And when he is done with them,” Juliana told her, “he sends them earrings set with their favourite precious stones. Were it I, I would throw them at his head.”

  Juliana’s description made him sound thoroughly unscrupulous. Yet how could he be? He had been polite and concerned for her. It was obvious he and Juliana had a close relationship. And he was sharp, much sharper than Juliana had ever led her to believe.

  She had noticed him watching her, had tried to avoid his eyes, did not want him to see how dangerously attractive she found him.

  Now she had two secrets to keep.

  CHAPTER 3

  The vouchers for Almack’s arrived, sending Mrs. Babbidge into a flurry of activity. Everything at Montpelier Street revolved around Emmaline. Her great-aunt escorted her to modistes and milliners, to glove and shoe makers. They combed haberdashers for the right piece of lace and the perfect shade of ribbon, all to make sure that she shone on her first outing into the glittering society of the ton.

  A note from Lucius, requesting the pleasure of her company in joining him and his sister at the Assembly Rooms, came with the vouchers. His carriage would collect her at eight o’clock. Emmaline so hoped he would not be in it. She would rather not be obliged to thank him personally for something she did not want.

  In the comfortable stillness of her room she closed her eyes but it did no good. She heard her own breath catch in her throat as it had when she first saw Lucius. Her pulse beat a heavy tattoo sending her blood surging in her veins.

  It was not just his wide shoulders and broad chest, emphasised as they were by the close fit of his expertly tailored morning coat of blue superfine. Nor the sight of his firmly muscled horseman’s thighs encased in tight fitting buckskin breeches.

  It was the expression on his lean, angular face that caught her attention and startled her so. His fine grey eyes, so like Juliana’s, had caught and held hers. She did not want to look away but, as casually as she could, had done exactly that and replaced his book on the table.

  Her heart tumbled in a welter of emotion. Of all the men she could have met, why must she be so foolish as to allow herself to be so attracted to her best friend’s brother?

  She lifted her head and surveyed herself in the long cheval mirror. Her face was pale under her natural colouring. She turned her head sideways, tipped it up and down, squinting along her neat, straight nose and making a moue of her lightly rouged lips.

  Mrs. Babbidge insisted on dressing her hair, sweeping the heavy tresses up into an intricate crown of ringlets threaded through with a string of pearls. Large, single pearl drop earrings dangled from her ears, a treasured memento of her mother. She wore no other jewellery, instructed by her redoubtable great-aunt that she needed none.

  Emmaline ran her hands down the folds of her pale lavender silk gown. Its low cut necklin
e, which her great-aunt refused to trim with lace, distressed her for it revealed far more of her décolletage than she wished.

  The only covering allowed was her white evening gloves, which reached above her elbow, ending mere inches below her delicately puffed sleeves.

  Mrs. Babbidge, carrying a branch of candles, came into her room.

  “Oh, Em. You look lovely, so you do.” She put the candelabra on top of Emmaline’s dresser and stood behind her. “Your poor mama and papa would be so proud of you, just like me and your grandpapa are.”

  Their images were reflected in the glass. Her great-aunt’s eyes shone with happiness and Emmaline wished with all her heart she could feel the same way.

  Instead, the guilt that lodged in her breast and threatened to choke her turned into slow burning anger. Anger at the unfairness of having to attract a husband she did not want. Anger at the prospect of not being forgotten by anyone she met. She had so much to hide, so much to lose.

  Her great-aunt slipped a velvet cloak around Emmaline’s nearly bare shoulders.

  “Come on, my girl. His Lordship will be here soon. He won’t keep you waiting, he’s too much of a gentleman, he is.”

  “I am sure you are right, but I do so wish I did not have to go.”

  “What nonsense!” Mrs. Babbidge came around in front of her and secured the ties of the cloak. “There you are, my love and, if I’m not mistaken, that’s a carriage pulling up outside now.”

  She went to the window, drew back the curtain and peered out. She turned to Emmaline with a smile.

  “Come along now and don’t you worry. All will be well.”

  She held out her hand and Emmaline took it, whispering a fervent prayer as she did so to get through the evening without mishap. She followed her aunt out of the bedroom and on down the stairs. Giles was already at the door and opened it for her, just as Lucius reached for the knocker.

  “May I compliment you on your promptness, Miss Devereux?” He removed his top hat and swept her a bow.

  “Why, thank you,” Emmaline replied, “but knowing your Lordship does not like to keep his horses standing, I dared not be late.”

  Lucius replaced his hat as he walked her across the pavement to the waiting carriage.

  “Saucy minx.”

  His voice, soft and very low, more like a purr deep in his throat, reached Emmaline’s ears and she knew only she heard him as he handed her into the carriage. Had he meant her to hear? She peeped quickly at his face, but his expression gave her no hint he had spoken.

  She took her seat beside Juliana and greeted both her and Beamish whose features, soft with early signs of dissipation in his rounded cheeks and jaws, looked like a schoolboy about to receive an unexpected treat. His wide smile brightened the carriage’s dim interior.

  “I say, Miss Devereux, this is going to be a splendid evening.” His gloved hands gripped his cane. “Having you and Juliana to dance with will be wonderful. You do dance, do you not?”

  “It is an accomplishment insisted upon by my papa and grandpapa. I think you will find, Mr. Beamish that I am unlikely to tread upon your toes.”

  “As if he’d care.” Juliana laughed lightly. “As long as he has a female on his arm he’s happy, are you not, William?”

  “I’m happier when that female is you.” Beamish bowed his head to her.

  “Oh, very gallant, sir!” Juliana looked towards her brother as she clapped her hands but Lucius, looking out of the carriage window, appeared not to have heard their repartee.

  What, Emmaline wondered, kept him so quiet? What thoughts were running through his head? Was he perhaps thinking it a mistake to have invited a young, unknown, country-bred girl to accompany him and his party to Almack’s?

  Lucius was thinking none of these things. His mind reeled with recollections of his first love and supposed Emmaline’s dark beauty prompted a comparison to that fair face which still from time to time haunted him. All the love and respect he held for that love, all the hope he harboured for their future, was torn to shreds on discovering her perfidy. His unwary heart had unravelled into black splinters of delusion.

  Well, no more. His heart was now his own. Dark-haired beauties came and went each Season and he would not allow the one now sitting beside his sister in his carriage to affect him. He would encourage Juliana to take up the reins of her old friendship for no other reason than to satisfy himself of the girl’s suitability to be her friend.

  But even has he thought it, his mind skipped to that patch of skin between Emmaline’s bonnet and collar and how very much he had wanted to kiss it. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  He could not, would not, lose his heart again.

  Why then, he asked himself, did he want to touch, to caress, to explore each and every one of Emmaline’s curves?

  It must be nothing more than lust, he decided and dared not look in her direction for fear of disclosing those thoughts in one inadvertent glance.

  And beyond that? There was more to her, he was sure. Her shabby clothes had been something of a disguise, but why? And what was the reason for her reluctance to be seen about in society? Was it the result of some deep rooted fear? If so, what did she fear and how could he discover it? And what could he do to resolve her fears? He wanted to shake his head to clear it but continued to sit, stiffly, barely paying attention to his guests’ idle chatter.

  At last his carriage joined a long line of conveyances waiting to deposit their passengers at Almack’s Assembly Rooms, but soon drew abreast of the entrance.

  Lucius was the first to alight. He turned to assist Juliana and then Emmaline. Her face was level with his and she wondered at his grave expression, his stormy eyes and clenched jaw. He looked thoroughly displeased.

  As soon as Beamish joined them on the pavement, Lucius gave Noble his orders for the evening.

  In the last few days Mrs. Babbidge and her maid, Annie, chattered nonstop about the Assembly Rooms until Emmaline considered she knew the building without ever having been there. Light gleamed through the high, arched windows and sounds of music and merriment drifted out through the open door.

  Juliana’s excitement was palpable as they entered the Great Room. Bright eyed, she looked around but quickly caught her brother’s arm.

  “Oh, Lucius, there’s Lady Jersey and Countess Esterhazy. I must introduce Emmaline and thank them for the vouchers.”

  Emmaline hung back as much as she was able. Try though she might, she could not avoid the social niceties. Lady Jersey inclined her head as Juliana made the introductions, but the Countess caught both Emmaline’s hands and gave them a squeeze.

  “My dear girl, I am so pleased to see you again. How are you and how is your quite delightful grandpapa?”

  People around them heard the Countess’s question. Heads turned to see to whom she was speaking. Emmaline coloured under their inquisitive stares. Now attention had been brought to her there would be no avoiding public speculation.

  “We are both well, Countess,” she said as she curtsied.

  “How are you enjoying London?”

  “Very much, thank you. Lord Clifton was most kind in procuring vouchers for me to attend Almack’s this evening.”

  Lady Jersey looked up as if she had been struck. “Avondale? Kind?” Her tinkling laugh flowed as easily as her suspicious glance over Emmaline. “Avondale is never kind.”

  Momentarily lost for words Emmaline was thankful when she felt Juliana step closer to her.

  “You are mistaken, ma’am,” Juliana said. “When threatened with sisterly vapours, my brother gave me his solemn promise to do all he could to ensure my friend’s comfort and entertainment.”

  “Oh, well. You would know best, I should suppose,” Lady Jersey said, her tone dismissive. “Come, Theresa.”

  The Countess started to move away with Lady Jersey, but returned only to look more closely at Emmaline before reaching forward and patting her cheek. “Your beauty is more than I remembered. Take my a
dvice, my dear, make it work for you. And while you are in London, if you need anything at all, simply send word to me.”

  Emmaline curtsied again as, with a smile, the Countess walked away in a light rustle of burgundy satin, her mother-of-pearl reticule swinging gently from her wrist.

  “Oh, my,” Juliana whispered, her eyes as round as saucers. “Where did you meet the Countess that you are on speaking terms with her?”

  “In Madrid and again in Paris,” replied Emmaline, keeping her voice low and her glance down. “But I could wish that she had not been so particular in her attentions.”

  “You never mentioned her in your letters.” A thoughtful look gleamed in Juliana’s eyes.

  Emmaline shrugged a shoulder. “Had I wrote of it I would have been charging the connection with more import than it carries.”

  Juliana disagreed, but refrained from saying so. She intuited there was more to that meeting than she was privy to.

  And she was not the only one. From his spot on the gallery Sir Peregrine Styles marked the exchange. His blood quickened at the sight of the dark haired girl beside Juliana. If she would not entertain his advances, perhaps her companion would. And what was her connection with the Countess? There was something to be discovered there. Styles moved back from the gallery and melted into the crowd.

  At Emmaline’s elbow Beamish leaned in to whisper, “Bit overwhelming to be singled out by the foremost Lady Patronesses, is it not, Miss Devereux?”

  “Indeed, yes, but very exciting.” Emmaline gripped the silver chain of her reticule, the only solid contact she could maintain in the crush of people which swayed this way and that like trees in the breeze.

  Beamish found chairs where they could sit to watch the dancing. Emmaline took a breath and looked around her. The windows were dressed with simple drapes. Light sparkled from massive chandeliers and reflected back a thousand times over from the large mirrors hanging on the walls.

  “Ah, a quadrille,” Beamish announced. “Juliana, may I lead you out?”