by Deb Marlowe
“Oh, I say, I’m free for the first set, should you care to dance it with me.” Mr. Simon looked slightly dazzled.
“Oh, how lovely. Thank you.” Lady Tresham took his arm and began to lead him away. “Tell me, please, about your position. It must be fascinating.” She grinned over her shoulder as they left and Glory laughed and gave her a nod and a wave for good luck.
Sitting back, she gazed around, and froze. Keswick stood near the double doors, watching her. He inclined his head to his left, toward the buffet table at the far corner of the room, where Hope had made sure to feature plenty of lobster patties. Glory gave a nod and stood, and began to casually make her way around the perimeter of the dance floor, to meet him there.
She was greeted often as she went, and paused to exchange pleasantries several times. A glance or two showed Keswick making the same, slow progress. Mr. Sommers waved at her and stopped to tell of the news he’d received from home—the birth of a colt with a distinguished pedigree and the hope of a great future on the racing circuit. She offered warm congratulations, then moved on, her gaze seeking out Keswick.
She began to move with purpose when she saw him. He was laughing with Miss Rutledge and Sir Blackwell in the opposite corner, but his father was fast approaching behind him, his expression grim.
She started to hurry.
By the time she grew near, his father had engaged him. Miss Vernon stood nearby, a satisfied smirk on her face. Glory eased into the crowd and moved along the wall to hide her approach. She came upon the group from behind.
“ . . . childish behavior.” She caught only the end of this particular scathing remark. “You cannot avoid me forever,” the earl continued.
“No, but I can rejoice in every moment not spent in your company, sir. And I believe I’d like to add a few more to the balance.” Keswick bowed. “Good evening.”
His father reached out and seized his arm to stop him. “No. I’ve let the leash play out long enough. It’s time I pulled you back in. This nonsense about refusing to marry ends now. I’ve arranged perfectly satisfactory terms with the Vernon girl’s father. He’s agreed to increase her dowry, included shares in his chemical manufactory, and has offered a bonus to be paid out to you both on the birth of an heir.”
“Stud fees?” Keswick said in disgust. “No, Father. I’m not marrying the chit.”
“You will.”
Keswick had turned to go, but he looked back in exasperation. “Just stop. There is no need for this endless, horrifying dance. Just, please, let me be. I’ve already told you, you don’t have any leverage over me. Not anymore.”
“I do, though.”
Keswick started to walk away.
The earl took a step after him. “Your good name,” he said, more loudly than he perhaps should have. “Stop, Keswick, and listen.” He gave his son a terrifying smile. “I am announcing your betrothal. Tonight. Now. You will smile and agree and dance with the girl when they open the ball.”
Keswick glanced over to where Miss Vernon waited. He shook his head.
“Don’t even consider not cooperating. I will swear to all and sundry that you have known of the negotiations, courted the girl, and agreed to the settlements. If you disavow my words, then I, and the girl, and her father will all name you a liar and a jilt. The world will know you as a man who has broken his vow. A man without honor.”
Keswick, suddenly pale, looked at the man in horror. “You wouldn’t,” he breathed.
“I will. And you will become a pariah. We’ll sue for breach of promise. You will be cut by your friends, turned away from your clubs. Shunned by all of good society. Your little empire?” he said with disdain. “Finished. For who will risk doing business with a man who does not honor his commitments?”
Glory watched all of the color drain from Keswick’s face. Her heart fell—but fury and determination rose like the fiery ascent of the sun inside of her.
The musicians were tuning their instruments. She didn’t have much time. She caught sight of Miss Munroe passing and slipped out to grab her. She whispered frantically in her ear.
Her friend pulled back to stare in amazement. “You don’t mean . . .?”
“Now, please!” Glory urged. “It is vital.”
Miss Munroe glanced over to see Keswick and his father arguing face to face. She raised her brows at Glory and turned to hurry away.
Glory threw her shoulders back. She stepped over to join the group in the corner.
“Good evening, my lords. Has my sister not created a magical atmosphere for us this evening?” She turned to Keswick. “Sir, I hear the musicians preparing themselves. Are you ready for our dance?” Not waiting for his answer, she turned to his father. “If you do not care to dance, Lord Braunton, then may I suggest you try the lobster patties? They are one of Hope’s specialties.”
She took Keswick’s arm, but Miss Vernon had joined them, wearing a ferocious frown on her face. “What is this foolery? You do not dance. We have all heard it said so.”
Glory have her a haughty look. “Then you have heard wrong. I dance one dance in particular. And with one gentleman only.” She cast a dazzling smile up at Keswick. “And he has promised me the opening set.”
She gave them a nod, then tugged on Keswick’s arm. Looking stunned, he led her away. But when she actually stepped out onto the empty dance floor, he stopped abruptly. Frowning, he shook his head.
Raising a brow, she nodded.
“Glory, what are you doing?”
“I’m fighting tyranny, just as you told me I should.” The musicians were settling in. She tugged his arm again, and still looking confounded, he accompanied her to the middle of the floor and stood ready, across from her.
The music began. She curtsied. He bowed. Where in heaven’s name were the other dancers? Why were they the only ones on the dance floor? She risked a glance around—and froze in her tracks.
Everyone stared at her. Every person in the room. Ladies whispered behind their fans. She could see Miss Parscate talking low and fast to the group around her. Gentlemen watched with the same morbid fascination she suspected they must trot out at a bear baiting or a cockfight—in anticipation of blood.
She started to shake. It was her worst nightmare, come to ugly, soul-chilling life.
“No.” Keswick looked directly into her eyes. “It’s too late to panic. You got me out of there,” he nodded toward the corner. “I will get you through this.”
She blinked at him, unable to respond.
“Move,” he ordered.
He was right. She lifted her chin. Extended her arm. Took his. And began to step in a circle with him, in time to the music.
They made the first revolution. Faced each other again. Took each other’s opposite hand and began to circle in the opposite direction.
She stumbled. Tripped. Nearly went down.
An audible gasp came from the crowd.
A shiver of icy shame ran down her spine.
But Keswick was there, supporting her, setting her back on balance, and guiding her smoothly through the turning.
And at last, others came. Hope and Tensford pushed through the crowd and hurried onto the dance floor. Miss Rutledge and Sir Blackwell followed, then Lady Tresham and Mr. Simon.
Glory and Keswick carried on, able to meet in the middle and advance down the line. They joined hands with Hope and Tensford and she successfully managed the steps forward and back again.
Then she was facing Keswick again. He grinned triumph at her and all of the tension abruptly drained out of her. She relaxed into his grip and gazed into his eyes while they circled again.
At first he looked at her hungrily, like a man enjoying his last meal before execution. But she knew better. She smiled at him in relief and exultation as she continued to navigate the dance and in the complete joy of doing it with him. Her leg was forgotten. Any thought of strife abandoned. The rest of the ballroom faded and only the two of them existed, and for several, long, wonderful moments she rev
eled in his gentle touch, in the pride in his expression and in the ever-present pull between them.
Eventually, the music ended. She gradually came awake, back to the reality of his hand in hers, of Hope hugging her with tears in her eyes, of Tensford shaking Keswick’s hand.
She came awake to the truth—there was still more fighting to be done.
“I need to speak with Tensford,” she began. But the pain in her ankle and the ache in her leg were vying for attention, too. “I need to sit down.”
Keswick immediately lent her his arm and she leaned heavily upon it, while trying to seem as if she was not. He acted utterly casually too, understanding without words her wish not to appear fatigued.
He escorted her to the side of the dance floor and claimed her a seat as the guests lined up for the second dance of the set. Glory took her sister’s hand. “I need to speak to Tensford, right away.”
“He’s right here,” Hope said and pulled her husband forward.
Tensford knelt down beside her and she reached out and squeezed her brother in law’s hand. “Listen, Tensford. As soon as this dance finishes, you must call for the attention of the crowd.” She met Keswick’s gaze. “You must announce our engagement.”
Keswick choked. “What? Glory, no!”
Hope’s breath caught.
Tensford’s gaze moved gravely between them. “Drastic measures, Kes?”
“No. Do not listen to her,” Keswick ordered.
“You must! His father means to announce his betrothal to Miss Vernon, despite his refusal of the idea. The earl is scheming with her and her rich father. They mean to force Keswick’s hand. He’ll have to marry the girl or they will see him shunned. He’s threatened to sue for breach of promise and blacken his name with everyone in the ton and in the business world.”
“I don’t care,” Keswick insisted. “Either way, I am defeated. I will not carry you down into the muck with me.”
“I’ve already pulled you from the muck once, damn you.” She laughed weakly. “I’ll do it now, as well, for it’s more than your precious boots that are in danger this time.”
He shook his head.
“You listen to me, Keswick. I will not see them win—not when your destruction is their aim. Either way, married to her, or with reputation and opportunity destroyed—they will make you miserable. And do you think they will stop at this? No. They will never stop trying to destroy you. I’m forging us a different path. All you have to do is take it. And finally, this ends here and now.”
“I cannot let you—”
“You cannot stop me.” She reached up and pulled him down so that she could place a hand on that magnificent jaw line. “I’ve seen how your father’s manipulations have convinced you that you do not deserve love or caring, or that, once given, it will be snatched away.” She blinked back tears. “I’m telling you, Keswick, that it is not so. I admire you, so greatly. I love you, so dearly. I will never abandon you. I will always be your friend, or your lover, or whatever it is that you need and choose. I will be proud to be your betrothed for a time. For a short time, if that is all you wish.” She gave a shrug. “We will ensure your freedom today, and then, in a few weeks, I can cry off. We can decide that we do not suit. I am sure I will be considered eccentric amongst the ton, so this will only add to my reputation. As long as we part amicably, no one need be destroyed.”
She looked at Tensford. “Do it.”
He looked at Hope, who was still fighting tears. Her sister took her hand and nodded.
Tensford let out a long sigh. He glanced back to the dance floor where the set was ending. He strode out in the middle and called for attention.
Glory let go of her sister and held both of Keswick’s hands tightly. His brow was furrowed as if he was weighing steps and consequences. He still had not responded to her declaration.
It took a moment for everyone to quiet down, but Tensford beckoned a footman to bring him a flute of champagne and stood with his glass raised. “I know many of you are expecting to hear me expound upon the very great discovery made here at Greystone days ago. The specimen found near our cliffs is indeed a fascinating object. But I have only just made an even more wonderful discovery—”
There was a murmur and a growing wave of consternation by the door. A lady shrieked. The crowd parted and Mr. Sterne stumbled into the open space around Tensford, supported by Miss Munroe.
Glory gasped. Blood ran down Sterne’s face and he held his sleeve pressed to his temple. “It’s gone,” he said, clearly distraught. “The fossil is gone.”
Chapter 20
Chaos erupted in the ballroom. Hope rushed to Sterne and began to give quiet, effective orders, calling for water and bandages and footmen to help him to a chair. Tensford checked to be sure Sterne was in no immediate danger, exchanged a few words with him, then rushed out.
Nearly half of the guests followed on his heels, eager to witness more of the spectacle. The other half scurried about the ballroom, fussing over Sterne, questioning Miss Munroe, gossiping, or just generally contributing to the pandemonium.
It all seemed utterly appropriate to Keswick. It all mirrored the turmoil in his heart so very well.
Glory. She clutched his hands, still, and he gazed down at her in wonder and consternation. Another gift. She’d given him her heart in a way that no one had ever done for him.
He rather felt as if the giving of her heart had set his own free.
They moved Sterne off to a more comfortable location and Keswick turned to find his father behind him, staring with narrowed eyes. “I know what you are trying to do,” he spat. “It will not work. You will marry—”
People were starting to look.
“Lord Braunton.” Glory let go of him and rose from the chair. She stepped up to his father. The old man glared down at her. Keswick moved beside her while she smiled sweetly up at him. “It was such a lucky chance that led you north, so that you could be here for the announcement of our engagement.” She transferred her smile to the guests around them. “Don’t you all agree?”
“You . . . you . . .”
“Indeed.” Lady Tresham was in the group. She eyed the earl closely and moved in. “Is that the announcement Tensford was trying to make before he was so unfortunately interrupted? Betrothed! Let me be the very first to congratulate you, then!” She transferred her gaze to his father. “And you, my lord. I congratulate you on your good fortune. You are welcoming a special young lady into your family.” She gave Glory a laughing nod. “In fact, I think you’ll find you have more in common than you might expect.”
His father turned a mottled red.
Keswick tightened his arm around Glory.
His father nearly spit anger when he spoke. “It won’t—”
“I know, Father. It won’t be the same.” Keswick cast a wry look at the crowd beginning to form around them. “Certainly, I will never be the same. I suspect I will be happy—in a way that I never thought to achieve.”
His father glared daggers at him, then turned to stalk away.
Keswick turned to face her. His instinct was to whisk her away to tell her all that was in his heart, but they needed this to be seen and heard—and she deserved a public declaration. “Honestly, I never thought my heart would open this way. I’ve been a fool for so long, I almost missed what was right before me. I liked Lady Glory. I laughed at her quick wit and enjoyed her sprightly conversation. I admired her beauty—and her seat on a horse.”
Someone laughed and he raised a brow. “In all seriousness—have you ever seen her ride?” Now everyone laughed, even Glory.
“The bit that scares me most is that I almost didn’t recognize what a treasure she is. Fortunately, my addled brain cleared enough, and my skeptical heart grew brave enough to realize that in her care is the only place for me. I humbly ask her to take my hand, even though she never meant to marry and I am nothing but a rakehell—and sure to be a bother.”
“It must be you,” he said directly to her. �
��And it must be forever. You are the only one I could ever trust to see inside of me—and still want to stay.”
Now there were tears in her eyes. “It must be you,” she whispered. “Because you are the only one who looks at me and sees more, instead of less.”
Someone applauded. Lady Tresham loudly called for a toast to the happy couple. People surrounded them to shake hands and offer hugs and kisses and slaps on the back. Miss Myland herded in a pair of footmen with trays of champagne and Hope and Tensford arrived back just in time to take up a glass.
“Let us raise our glasses,” Tensford called. “Sterne will recover quickly, thank goodness. And while it seems I have lost a fossil, I have gained a brother-in-law—who also happens to be one of my best friends.” He smiled down at his wife. “I am the most fortunate of men.”
“I beg to differ,” Keswick objected. And with a wicked grin, he bent to kiss his betrothed.
Epilogue
“Here, my darling. I’ve made a copy of the young lavandula angustifolia for Lady Tensford. Will you give it to her, the next time you visit at Greystone?”
“Yes, Mama.” Penelope Munroe knew better than to compliment the artistry of the botanical drawing her mother handed her, even though it was quite beautifully done. She’d suffered enough lectures on the importance of technique, exacting detail and scientific documentation over beauty. Still, privately, she marveled over her mother’s talent.
“And will you remind her, please, that I would like a mature specimen in bloom when she has one, so that I may capture the complete record of the plant?”
“I will, Mama.”
“I suppose she’s had too much on her mind to remember,” her mother sighed. “She must be so glad to be done with the fuss and bother of the wedding.”
Fuss and bother described anything that drew her mother’s attention away from her work.
“Although, to be fair, I find myself glad that you and your father convinced me to attend the affair,” her mother conceded.