Angelina's Secret

by Diane Merill Wigginton

  Pushing matters just a little further, I looked across from me and noticed Honore had an amused smile on his face and was attempting not to laugh at his friend who was being sucked into a conversation with so many potential pitfalls.

  “Tell me, Lord Lacroix, where do you stand on the matter of piracy for hire?” I asked, fixing my big jade eyes on him in an attempt to lure him in as well.

  “Please, call me Honore. We are all friends here, Lady Stewart.” He was applying me with his smooth French accent in an attempt to distract me from the question at hand and lighten the mood.

  “Please, call me Angelina. Honore, let me pose the question another way. Where do you stand on the matter of bloodthirsty cutthroats being hired by their own governments and, when caught, given immunity?” I sweetly asked, fixing him with my most beguiling smile and innocent look.

  “And why does one so beautiful and lovely want to speak of such unpleasantness during dinner?” Honore stated, fixing me with his most stunning smile that would melt any young woman causing her to lose her train of thought. I have no doubt that his tactics had worked on other woman in the past, but I had a point to make and a mystery to uncover, and I was not ready to let it go.

  “I don’t think that I have ever met two men in my life so devoid of an opinion before. Have you, Sarah?” I said, looking at Sarah now as she was about to put a bite of food in her mouth.

  Placing her fork on her plate, Sarah turned to me and fixed me with her large pale blue eyes.

  “Sometimes, Angelina, I honestly don’t know what comes over you. These gentlemen are trying to enjoy their dinner, and you want to talk about the most ridiculous things. Could we please change the subject? I am still upset every time I think about your life being in danger. Honestly, it is simply morbid of you to speak on the matter further.” Sarah scolded. Her eyes sparkled with tears and unspent emotion as she turned to her plate and took a bite.

  I had to give in to her. Sarah always knew how to put me in my place, and with that, the subject was changed.

  Reaching under the table, I found Sarah’s delicate hand and gave it a squeeze — our sign for “I am sorry.” As she squeezed back, I decided to keep the conversation light and easy for the remainder of the meal. But all bets were off when I had Jude Deveraux all to myself.

  The main course was served, and I felt unable to eat any more than three small bites due to the constriction of my corset.

  The beautifully prepared pheasant dish with spring onions and baby carrots smelled delicious, and I wanted to take the plate home with me for later when I found myself free of my restraint.

  I turned my attention down the table. Sarah and I often amused ourselves by observing the fashionably dressed, or should I say the out-rageously attired men and women of the upper social class.

  Leaning over to whisper near my ear, Sarah directed my attention to our left five seats on the opposite side of the table.

  “Do you think Sir James Thornhill has bathed yet this season?” she asked, lifting a delicate eye brow in that direction.

  Casually looking down the table, I could see Elizabeth Caldredge fanning herself vigorously and attempting to lean as far to her right as possible while drinking her wine.

  “Maybe if she drinks enough, the smell won’t be that bad,” I whispered back.

  Using my fan to hide behind, I directed her gaze toward Darcy Montgomery seated four seats down. He and Georgina Cavendish had their heads together deep in conversation.

  “I will lay money down that Mr. Montgomery is cultivating his next move for an easy income and an invitation to join the family. Just look at the way he is plying Georgina with his attentions,” I said with the slightest bit of derision to my tone.

  Sarah never even looked down the table to her right, and I could see her visibly straighten up in her seat. Tears glistened in those soft blue eyes again, and I knew somehow I had hit a raw nerve, but I didn’t know why.

  Jonathan noticed something was wrong and looked at me with wise and loving eyes. “Sometimes these dinners go on forever, and all I need to do is stretch my legs. Sarah, would you do me the honor of saving the first dance this evening? It has been so long since we have all been together it almost feels like old times,” he said to break the tension that was building in the sudden silence.

  “I would very much enjoy that, thank you, Jonathan,” Sarah replied, trying her best not to cry.

  After signaling a footman, Sarah whispered in his, and I noticed him walk directly to Lord Burgess and lean down to say something.

  Then the footman walked out of the dining room, and Lord Burgess waited five minutes before announcing dinner was over and dancing would be in the ballroom shortly.

  I, for one, was relieved. If I had to remain seated for one more minute, I think my head would have exploded. My bottom was numb as were my legs.

  Jonathan helped Sarah from her seat, and I was attempting to restore the feeling to my legs when I felt a tug at my seat. Figuring it had to be Jonathan coming to my rescue and help me from my seat, I offered him my hand.

  I immediately realized my mistake as my hand was engulfed by a far larger one than Jonathan’s. I tried pulling away, but my effort to extract my appendage was useless as Jude held tight and pulled me out of my chair. I had no choice but to smile graciously as he escorted me from the room.

  “I couldn’t help notice that you and Lord Bute were having a very lively conversation in regards to the peace treaty between our two countries,” Jude said while patting my hand he draped over his very muscular forearm.

  “And I couldn’t help noticing that you and the lovely Miss Taylor ran out of things to say to one another after the first course,” I replied with a slight tone of sarcasm.

  “Well, you are wrong on both accounts,” he answered with a slight chuckle.

  “Oh, and how is that?” I inquired, slightly intrigued by his statement.

  “Miss Taylor is neither lovely nor entertaining. I lost interest before the first course was over,” he stated matter-of-factly, as he guided me toward the open doors to the balcony.

  “Is that why you were so interested in my conversation with Lord Bute?”

  “No, not really,” was all he said as he guided me toward the railing to the left and away from the other couples milling around in the cool night air.

  “So tell me, Mr. Deveraux, what do you do with yourself when you are not being the Duke of Bayonne?” I asked, trying to make conversation and unearth another piece to the puzzle that was Jude Deveraux.

  “What more is there? I serve at the pleasure of the king. What do you imagine dukes do with their time?” he said, turning the question back around.

  “Well, I would imagine they ride horses and read books, take care of stately matters and perhaps hunt with other dukes, lords, and kings. So, are you on assignment from your king?” I asked.

  “No, not really. My parents are here on assignment from the king,” he informed me.

  “Oh, and who are your parents?” I asked, feeling the warmth coming off his body when he moved closer to me as if we were about to share a secret.

  “My father is the prime minister of France, Count Philippe Gerard Deveraux, and my mother is Countess Genevieve Sophia Deveraux of Bordeaux. They are here to smooth things over with your king and improve personal relations between the two countries. I am here accompanying them as I am their only living son and heir,” he stated in all seriousness while piercing me with his intense blue stare.

  Momentarily speechless, I stood inches from his face deciding how to proceed. I had not just been given a piece of the puzzle. I had been given a glimpse inside Lord Deveraux.

  His nearness was a culmination of disconcertion and thrill all at once, and my head felt like it was packed with cotton. If only he would stop looking at me that way. He smelled of lavender soap and leather, which was terribly distracting, and I shivered slightly.

  “Lord Deveraux, the dancing is ready to start. Won’t you join us?” Sarah
announced from behind us.

  “Of course, Lady Burgess, we were just about to head in. It seems Lady Stewart is chilled and forgot her wrap inside,” he answered as his eyes never straying from mine as another shiver went up my spine that had nothing to do with cold air.

  Jude turned to address Jonathan and Sarah now as he guided me toward the open doors.

  “Have you seen Mr. Lacroix?” Jude asked as we walked all together.

  “I think I saw him talking to several young eligible maidens in the ballroom,” Jonathan answered.

  “That sounds like Honore. He will have danced with half of them by night’s end and secured promises from the rest to meet him tomorrow at the opera house,” Jude said rather dryly.

  “I don’t know how he does it. All the endless chattering he has to listen to with that many young ladies. I wouldn’t do it,” Jonathan stated while escorting Sarah.

  “He isn’t into it for the endless chatter,” Jude said, a knowing look traveling between the two men.

  I rolled my eyes, and Sarah pretended not to hear.

  “Would anyone like refreshments before the dancing begins?” Jonathon cordially asked while patting Sarah’s hand resting delicately on his arm.

  “No, thank you. I am afraid I couldn’t get one more ounce down my throat,” I said as I looked at Sarah. “But I could use a minute with Sarah, if you don’t mind?” I took her by the hand and led her to the powder room.

  “Sarah, is everything all right? You look a little pale,” I said while taking her face in my hand to force her to look at me. “I will take you upstairs right now if you need to go.”

  “No, I am fine. I think that cow Mrs. Lawrence synched me in too tightly. I can hardly breathe,” Sarah indicated her lower waist. I locked the door to prevent anyone walking in on us.

  “Turn around. Let me look,” I said as I spun her and unlacing her gown in one fluid motion. When I got to her corset I noticed marks on her back where the corset had been digging into her flesh.

  “Oh, Sarah,” I gasped. “Don’t ever let that witch do this to you again. Your back is all bruised. How did you even make it through dinner?” I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.

  “Why are you even wearing a corset? You are so thin. You don’t need this thing” I insisted, letting my breath out. “Please let’s just take it off.”

  “NO! No, it’s fine, just lace me back up.” Almost a desperate cry as she looked at me through the mirror. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, sorrow, or anger that I saw in her eyes. “It will remind me,” was all she said.

  “Remind you of what, Sarah? Sarah! What is this pain supposed to remind you of?” Putting her head down for a few minutes then when she looked at me again, she had replaced the raw emotion with a mask of societal propriety.

  “It will be fine. Just make it looser.” And there it was. Her well-practiced smile was back, like too much makeup one wears to hide behind. And against my better judgment, I did as she asked.

  Jonathan and Jude had ambushed Honore, and the three of them were discussing something when Sarah and I returned.

  “Please don’t let us interrupt you, gentlemen.” I was hoping they would continue as if we were not even there, still interested in delving into the mind of Monsieur Deveraux.

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. We are with the two most beautiful ladies at the ball. No more talk of business tonight. Agreed?” Honore said with his usual flare. His boisterous and jovial behavior caught the attention of a group of young ladies off to his right that he had been eyeing for some time. “If you would be so kind as to excuse me for a moment, my dear friends.” And with that, he was off on his next pursuit.

  “Well, I think that we have lost Honore for the evening,” Jonathan said with a chuckle.

  “I would have to agree,” Jude said as he watched his good friend saunter over to the other group.

  I had been pondering my exchange with Sarah as I watched her play the part of a perfectly happy young woman of society. And not really paying attention to the others.

  “May I have this dance, Lady Stewart?” I turned to see Jude’s outstretched hand as recognition brought me back to reality. Placing my hand in his, I allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor.

  “So where did you go back there?” Jude asked in my ear.

  “I just took Sarah to the powder room,” I answered without really thinking.

  “No, I mean when we were all standing around talking. Your mind was somewhere else. What were you thinking about?” He asked again as we waltzed around the room. His eyes searched my face as if trying to see straight into my soul.

  “You are very bold, Mr. Deveraux. We only met this morning and already you wish to know my thoughts,” I rebuked him, trying to change the subject.

  “Would you prefer to speak on the lovely weather?” he said with just a touch of sarcastic undertones. “Or perhaps what you might wear to the opera tomorrow evening?”

  Looking up now to search his eyes, my breath caught for a second. I knew those eyes and the feel of his firm hands on my back, so intimate and assured as if it had been there before. I almost missed a step if not for him pulling me along, nearly lifting me off the ground as if I were a doll.

  “Do you still claim that you and I have never met before?” I asked as I studied his reaction.

  “Madam, you wound me. You have insisted on two separate occasions that I am this bloodthirsty pirate captain that you encountered some weeks back. And yet here I stand before you a gentleman and not a pirate.”

  “And yet you do not deny it but dance around my direct question as easily as you twirl me about this dance floor.”

  “How can you reconcile the idea of me the man who stands before you of being a pirate?” He craftily worded his statement in a way to make the entire idea sound ridiculous.

  “And yet your eyes, your hands, and even the timber of your voice are just too familiar to me,” I added with determination in my voice.

  “Surely you cannot believe that I am the only person alive to have eyes of this color?” He emphasized the question with a lift of his one brow.

  “There! What you just did right there. He did that,” I said, indicating the one brow that went up in the very same manner as the pirate captain.

  “And again that cannot be enough evidence to charge a mere man such as myself with piracy.”

  Again, he had a point. And yet the feeling still nagged at the back of my mind.

  “Please forgive me. My mind has been playing tricks on me lately. I hope you don’t think me a complete loon,” I lied.

  “Of course not. You have been through quite an ordeal. Your brother related some of the story yesterday. It must have been ghastly. How did you survive?” he said with an expression of genuine concern.

  “Could we change the subject? I don’t really like to talk about it. In fact, I am hoping the whole thing will blow over soon, and everyone will have another scandal to talk about before long.” I put my head down and turned to the side slightly, trying to hide the flush that inevitably came to my cheeks every time I thought of my pirate.

  He didn’t say anything for the longest time. The dance ended, and he tipped my head back gently, forcing me to look at him.

  “Was your ordeal truly that horrible?” he asked, searching deep into my eyes. “You truly do have the greenest eyes I have ever seen.”

  His compliment made me smile and the unanswered question laid between us as we left the dance floor in search of refreshments.

  7

  APRIL 22, 1763;

  THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE

  EN DAYS IN A ROW I presented my calling card to the Burgess’s butler and stood in their grand entry hall waiting.

  I had not heard from or seen Sarah since saying good night to her the night of her family’s ball. And every day, after my morning ride on Dante through the park, I had stopped by the Burgess’s home and presented myself to the staff. And for ten days, I had been told that Sarah was unavailable for
visitors.

  I had begun to imagine all sorts of terrible and tragic fates befalling my dear friend. Today I would not be turned away. I was, if nothing else, persistent and I had decided today was the day. I was not leaving without seeing Sarah today!

  “I am terribly sorry, miss.”

  “I get it, she is unavailable,” I said, cutting poor, faithful George off. “And I am terribly sorry, George, but I am not leaving without speaking to Sarah or Lady Burgess, so you might want to go back and tell them. Otherwise, I will show myself up the stairs and go through this house room by room!”

  “I truly am sorry, Lady Stewart,” George said obediently following orders.

  “George, you know me, you have always addressed me as Lady Angelina. Lady Stewart is my mother. What is going on here? And where is Sarah?” Taking the direct approach, I tried to appeal to his humanity.

  “It’s all right, George, I will handle this,” came Sarah’s voice from the morning room as she walked toward me.

  Waiting for George to leave, I held my tongue as she walked up to me and took my arm.

  “Let’s walk in the garden, shall we?” Sarah pulled me in that direction as we walked in silence.

  “I have called on you for ten days, and I have been turned away like a common beggar. If I didn’t value you as a true friend I might be insulted,” I said to her once we were outside.

  “And if you were not such a good friend you wouldn’t have been so persistent. I really love that about you,” Sarah answered, turning her brilliant blue eyes on me.

  “Well?” I left the question hanging in the air as I stopped walking to look at her.

  Taking my arm again and leading me through the rose garden in silence, she touched the petals with their brilliant colors popping brightly in the morning sun.

  “I am serious. What is going on? I didn’t see you for six weeks. Then I see you at your family party and you are thin and bruised. You avoid me for ten days. Why won’t you talk to me?” I pleaded with her. “You are my best friend, talk to me, please.”

  “I can’t! Something truly terrible happened and I just can’t,” Sarah cried, turning away from me.