His Dark Enchantress (Books We Love Regency Romance)

by Chatham, Victoria

  Emmaline watched, fascinated, as a delicate flush coloured Juliana’s cheeks. She’s in love with him, she thought as Juliana took Beamish’s hand. Before she could think more on it, Lucius appeared beside her.

  “Would you care to accompany me, Miss Devereux?”

  He held out his hand to her and Emmaline could not refuse without giving offence and making a scene. Her heart thudded wildly as she casually perused her dance card.

  “I am not engaged for this dance,” she said.

  “I would be shocked if you were,” Lucius responded quietly. “After all, you have only been in London for a few days.”

  “Indeed, no time at all to meet eligible persons,” she quipped as she took his hand.

  “A barb in the rose,” Lucius said mournfully. “Am I to take it that you do not consider me an eligible person?”

  “Not at all, my Lord. In fact, you are far too eligible.”

  Emmaline glanced up at him as she tried to gauge his mood and a flush rose up the column of her neck as the irony of the situation did not escape her.

  Juliana clearly was in love with Beamish.

  And she? Emmaline swallowed hard. Attracted to Lucius? Definitely. In love with him? Her head said No, that could not be possible. Her heart said Yes. Instantly and irrevocably.

  As the first strains of the stately music began, she concentrated on the pattern of the dance. She listened for the rhythm and stepped out with a confidence she did not feel. The warmth and atmosphere of the room pressed in on her.

  Feeling a little light headed, she avoided looking at Lucius as they passed and re-passed, advanced and retreated in time to the music. Each time Lucius lightly caught her fingers to turn her, her breath faltered. Relief flooded through her when she heard the final bars of the set.

  “Do you waltz as well as you dance the quadrille?” Lucius enquired as he returned her to her seat. Her perfume, that delicate fragrance of gardenias and honeysuckle, was more noticeable now her skin was warmed with her exertions.

  “I believe so.” Every nerve came alive as Emmaline thought of being held close to him and she hoped he would not notice the tempo beating in her neck.

  “Then I claim the supper dance.” He bowed low over her hand and retreated into the throng of people around them.

  Deep in thought Emmaline only came to her senses after a sharp tap on her arm from Juliana’s fan.

  “Where were your thoughts wandering?” Juliana asked.

  Emmaline ignored the speculative gleam in her friend’s eye. “Nowhere important, but I do have a question for you.”

  “And that is?”

  “How long have you been in love with Mr. Beamish, and does he love you too?”

  “Oh!” Juliana retreated behind the lace barrier of her fan. “How did you know?”

  “My dearest friend, I know you so well.” Emmaline caught Juliana’s hand and gave it a little shake. “It was the expression in your eyes and the softening of your lips when you looked at him. I could not mistake it.”

  “Please, please, do not say anything to Lucius,” Juliana begged. “I am not sure that he would approve of the suit and, much as I can tease and taunt him, I cannot defy him when it comes to a suitable marriage. William is waiting for the right time to approach him and we can only hope Lucius will give us his blessing.”

  “Do not worry, your secret is safe with me.” Emmaline released Juliana’s hand. “And here is Mr. Beamish to claim another dance.”

  Beamish brought with him a gentleman he introduced as Sir Richard Stonehouse who, he declared, would be deuced happy to request Miss Devereux for the next dance.

  Emmaline accepted the invitation and stepped her way through another quadrille. Sir Richard danced well, but not as well as Lucius. When Sir Richard caught her hand, she felt nothing. Her heart did not beat faster when he stood close beside her in their pairs. His smile elicited only the most polite response she could manage. In short, he did not measure up in any way to Lucius.

  At the thought of having Lucius’ arm around her for the waltz, Emmaline’s breath slowed in her throat. Her imagination ran riot at the expression that might cloud his grey eyes.

  She closed her own eyes and took a deep breath. Despite how much she wanted to be close to him, she could not allow it to happen, she must not.

  How to escape her situation? Without Juliana she had no chaperone. Without Lucius she had no transport.

  What had Countess Esterhazy said?

  “If you need anything, just send word,” Emmaline whispered.

  What she needed was to leave, and now.

  She stood and looked about her, began to weave her way through the throng of dancers, trying to locate the Countess. If she could find her, perhaps she could beg the use of her carriage and be taken home. But, before she had gone very far, Juliana caught her arm.

  “Emmaline, do let me introduce you to Miss Lassiter. She has heard of your horse riding skills and would so like to ask you about Lord Tunstall’s grey.”

  Emmaline turned to face the newcomer, a smile on her face but a chill in her heart.

  Now there was no way for her to make a polite exit.

  CHAPTER 4

  Lucius made his way between the gaming tables, silently cursing the ease with which one glance from Miss Devereux caused an unruly reaction in his breeches. One would think him an eager schoolboy, not a man of the town with the reputation of a being a rake.

  Greeting acquaintances as he passed, he stopped several times to observe the play. He watched his old friend, Lord Skeffington, deal the first card in a game of faro.

  Skeffington cast a glance at Lucius. “Do I deal you in, Avondale?”

  Lucius shook his head. “I have other fish to fry this evening.”

  “And very tasty it is too!”

  Lucius turned his head to look at the card player who had spoken, a sharp retort on his tongue. He bit it back with some considerable effort.

  “Ah, you allude to my sister’s friend, I collect.”

  “Sister’s friend?” The player had a sneer on his dark countenance. “Is that what barques of frailty are being called these days?”

  Lucius started forward, his fists bunched, but a hand came to rest lightly on his arm and he turned to face its owner, Lady Jersey. Through the figured black velvet of his evening coat he felt the warning pressure of her fingers.

  “Have a care, Horace,” she murmured to the player, all the while maintaining pressure on Lucius’ arm.

  “Lady Jersey, beg pardon ma’am, I didn’t see you there,” said the unfortunate Horace, his face now an unattractive shade of puce.

  “Your remark casts aspersions on our guests and this establishment. Gentlemen have had their vouchers withdrawn for less.” Lady Jersey inclined her head to the discomfited Horace and steered Lucius away from the table.

  “Thank you, Sally. Much obliged to you for saving me from myself.”

  “Think nothing of it, my dear.” Lady Jersey nodded greetings to people they passed until they reached the balcony. “But I do want to hear about this latest chit of yours.”

  “Hang it all.” A growl of frustration escaped Lucius’ throat. “The girl is Juliana’s old school friend. She is not my chit, nor likely to be.”

  “Really?” Lady Jersey smiled. “That is not what I see.”

  Lucius looked into her laughing eyes. Lady Jersey’s comment made him uncomfortable. If she had noticed his interest in Emmaline, would others? “You see too much, Sally, I swear you do.”

  “Not only I, dear Lucius, but Lady Darnley too.”

  Lucius started. “Rosemary? What has she said?”

  “Nothing untoward.” Lady Jersey gave him a calculating look. “She merely expressed an interest in being introduced to the young lady who came in on your arm. I am sure she means no harm and is simply being civil.”

  “Not Rosemary,” Lucius said grimly. “She is still trying to foist that dreadful daughter of hers on me.”

  “Oh, come no
w!” Lady Jersey shook his arm playfully. “Olivia is a perfectly biddable girl with very pretty manners and I am sure would be a good wife.”

  “But not to me.”

  “You cannot escape the institution of marriage forever, Lucius.”

  “Lord, that I know only too well.” Lucius pursed his lips in frustration. “What do you know of James Horace?”

  Lady Jersey laughed. “Oh, well played, my Lord. A deft deflection from the subject of marriage, I do declare.” She smiled and waved at a passerby who caught her attention but quickly turned back, to Lucius. “James Horace is, I believe, an under-secretary to the Earl Bathurst. He is not nobility, but has noble aspirations.”

  “I should make his acquaintance, I think.”

  “Not if you are going to make trouble.”

  “I am wounded that you should think that of me.” Lucius laid a hand on his heart and cast a sorrowful glance her way.

  “La, Sir, as if anything I say could pierce that thick hide of yours.” Lady Jersey smiled up at him, patted him on the arm and wandered away through the crowd.

  Strolling back into the gaming room, Lucius returned to the faro table. James Horace was still there, concentrating on his cards. Lucius waited until the game ended.

  “A word, if I may, Horace,” he said quietly into that gentleman’s ear. With a firm hand under Horace’s elbow he steered him adroitly out of the gaming room to the balcony he so recently shared with Lady Jersey.

  “If you mean to call me out,” Horace muttered, “get it over with.”

  “Call you out?” A cold grimace settled on Lucius’ face. “My dear Horace, of course not. It is two years since I last took that route, and at least three since I shot anyone. Pistols at dawn is quite passé nowadays, and dawn is such a damnable time of day, do you not agree?”

  Lucius continued to look at Horace, seeing the doubt start in his eyes. He clenched his jaw. This was a man on whom he would not waste his shot.

  “So what do you want?” Horace flinched at the dangerous glitter in Lucius’ eyes.

  “To know what prompted your earlier remark.”

  “A slip of the tongue. Nothing more, I assure you.”

  “But Horace, I am not assured.” Lucius said, his voice beneath the velvet delivery as hard and sharp as a double-edged sword. “You were within a hair’s breadth of insulting my sister, and that I will not allow. So, I ask you again, what do you know of Miss Devereux?”

  “Nothing, I know nothing. I was merely repeating something I overheard.” Horace shook his head. “No, don’t ask me, for I do not know the gentlemen’s name.”

  “Could you point him out to me?”

  Lucius looked over the balcony to the press of people below. He gripped Horace’s arm and drew him firmly to the balustrade and waited as Horace scanned the ballroom. He deliberately kept up the pressure on his captive’s arm, knowing that Horace was fearful of the strength in the long fingers that held him.

  “There!” Lucius looked in the direction that Horace pointed. “The gentleman in the dark teal velvet evening coat who is talking to Lady Darnley.”

  Horace heard Lucius’ sharp intake of breath, felt the already tight grip on his arm tighten more. There would be bruises tomorrow, he was sure. He glanced up at his captor’s face and was struck by the murderous expression he saw there. He tugged his arm, trying to release it. Lucius exhaled slowly and turned to face Horace, his expression only marginally less savage.

  “Thank you, Horace. That wasn’t so difficult after all, was it?” Lucius released his grip and the unfortunate Horace scurried away.

  Lucius returned his attention to Lady Darnley and her companion. Their heads were close together, but it was obvious the man’s attention was on the crowd around him and not the lady with whom he conversed. He cast an idle glance upwards to the balconies overlooking the ballroom and, as his eyes locked with Lucius’, he smiled and waved a mocking salute.

  Sir Peregrine Styles.

  Lucius trembled with impotent fury. He knew the man well. Had once considered him a friend but now wished him to Jericho.

  A tremor of alarm took hold of him as he scanned the crowd below.. He spotted Juliana on the dance floor with Beamish but of Emmaline there was no sign.

  Drat the girl. Where had she gone? And in God’s name what did Peregrine Styles know of Emmaline, and how did he know it to have made such a comment?

  Lucius watched the crowds for a few seconds more, aware of his tightened features, and irritated at the reason for it. He quickly made his way down the wide staircase. When the music stopped he found himself accosted by Beamish and Juliana.

  “Lucius, this is such fun.” Excitement brightened Juliana’s eyes. Her exertions brought a glow to her cheeks. She snapped open her ivory veined fan and proceeded to employ it vigorously. “Are you not dancing?”

  “It appears my partner-to-be has disappeared. Where is the divine Miss Devereux?”

  Blast it, when had he started to think of her that way?

  Beamish, standing beside him, drew in a sharp breath. Lucius noted the gleam of perception in his friend’s eyes and wished this could have been one of Beamish’s more obtuse moments.

  “Lucius, have a care!” Beamish hissed. “The tabbies’ tongues are wagging already without you giving Miss Devereux any kind of sobriquet.”

  “Noted, my friend.” Lucius glanced at the people around him. “You are right, of course. I will endeavour to guard my tongue, but have you seen her?”

  “We left her sitting on a sofa beneath that window.” Juliana pointed with her fan.

  “Well, she’s not there now.” Lucius now scanned the ballroom. “Beamish, be a good fellow and take a walk around the room. Juliana and I will promenade in the opposite direction. Miss Devereux must still be here.”

  “Perhaps she went for a lemonade?” suggested Juliana, slipping her hand through her brother’s arm, her curiosity piqued by the grim expression on his face.

  “I believe she would have asked Beamish to procure refreshment for her, as any lady would, rather than get it herself.” His reply, in keeping with his expression, was curt.

  As they reached the end of the ballroom Lucius saw Miss Lassiter beside one of the columns supporting a balcony. She was in deep conversation with Emmaline and, from the animated expression on her face and the way she was using her hands, he had no doubt she was discussing some aspect of controlling a horse. His grip on Juliana’s arm tightened as he hurried her towards the two young ladies. Juliana looked up at him in surprise.

  “Miss Devereux, Miss Lassiter.” He bowed to them before releasing Juliana who surreptitiously rubbed her arm. “How are you enjoying the evening so far?”

  “Very well, my Lord.” Miss Lassiter dropped a pretty curtsy. “It is not often one has the opportunity to discuss anything other than books and fashion, and I am bound to benefit from Miss Devereux’s equestrienne experience. We are to ride tomorrow morning in Hyde Park. Will you care to join us?”

  Emmaline blanched at the unexpected invitation.

  “Oh, no, Miss Lassiter, I’m sure his Lordship has far more important things to do than accompany us,” she said.

  A faint blush rose in her cheeks under Lucius’ steady gaze. Pink would suit her, he thought.

  “In keeping with my sister’s strictures that I be kind to you,” he said, “it would be most unkind of me to allow you to hire a hack when I have a perfectly suitable mount for you in my stables.”

  Juliana frowned on hearing his comment. Had he been so close that he could have overheard her conversation with Lady Jersey? And if so, why had he not stepped in to defend himself?

  “We shall all ride tomorrow morning,” Juliana declared. “A riding party will be just thing.”

  Beamish arrived in time to hear the last part of Juliana’s comment. “A riding party? Not too early, I hope.”

  Lucius caught his eye.

  “Of course not,” he said. “But do be ready at ten o’clock.”

&nb
sp; Beamish looked askance at what he considered far too early a start to his day, but took Juliana’s hand and led her away to the dance floor once again.

  Sir Richard arrived to claim Emmaline and, with no objection from Lucius and with Miss Lassiter already being led on to the floor, she could not refuse.

  “You know, Lucius,” said Lady Jersey, coming to a halt beside him, “Mr. Beamish is very attentive to your sister. One would almost expect a declaration.”

  “Declaration?” Astonishment was clear in Lucius’ voice. “I think not. They have known each other since childhood. He is as much her brother as am I.”

  “Oh, if only the blind could see,” mocked Lady Jersey, flashing a sparkling glance his way. “And I think you may be expected to partner Olivia after all.”

  Lucius turned to see Lady Darnley, resplendent in a midnight blue satin gown, her daughter close by her side, advancing towards him. Olivia’s gown, in direct contrast to that of her mama’s, was a drift of soft blue muslin that clung unkindly to her immature frame. He swept them a bow in greeting and kissed Lady Darnley’s hand.

  “If I may say so, Rosemary, you look quite delightful this evening. As does Lady Olivia.” He bowed to her.

  A furiously blushing Olivia let out a little giggle.

  “T-t-thank you, my Lord,” she stuttered, hiding her face behind her fan.

  “Come, Olivia, there is no need to be shy with Lord Clifton,” admonished her mama. “We are old friends as you well know.”

  Olivia nodded but remained silent and avoided his eye.

  Struck with a sudden thought, Lucius offered her his hand. “Perhaps, Lady Olivia, if you are not already spoken for, you will join me for this next quadrille?”

  “Oh, m-m-my Lord.” Overcome with confusion Olivia continued to stutter. “I-I-I d-d-don’t d-dance t-that w-w-well.”

  “I’m sure your mama has seen to it that you dance very well,” murmured Lucius.

  “Only the best dancing master for my Olivia,” agreed Lady Darnley, pushing her unwilling daughter forward.

  Lucius led the hapless Olivia on to the dance floor. He shook his head slightly in response to the quizzical look he received from Beamish and shot a warning glance to Juliana as mischief gleamed in her eyes.