They pressed through the crowd gathered around the grand entrance and ventured deeper into the series of reception rooms. Yards of silk and shining crystal decorated tall windows and walls, freshly cut flowers filled large urns and vases, chandeliers glittered nearly as brightly as the jewels that covered the ladies…and over it all, the sweet scent of beeswax candles mingled with the soft strains of violins and cellos.
The rooms unfolded like a maze, each more elaborate and fantastical than the next.
Veronica moved her gaze around the enormous green drawing room that had been decorated to resemble a forest. A tall fountain done up like a waterfall spilled dark-blue water into a shallow stream that circled the edges of the room and was filled with large goldfish and floating candles. Her lips parted incredulously. Goldfish… Good heavens. Where did one find that many goldfish in London? How did one even think of that idea in the first place? But as her gaze followed the stream around the room, she knew it was simply the most marvelous thing she’d ever—
Merritt. Her eyes landed on him in the crowd, and the sight of him took her breath away.
Standing straight and tall beneath the glow of the chandeliers, every inch of him revealed the regimented former soldier he’d once been and the respected barrister he’d become, from his broad shoulders beneath the black kerseymere jacket all the way down to the polished shine of his shoes. She was certain he’d carefully chosen every piece of his finery tonight to emphasize his place in London society…the dark-blue silk waistcoat that matched his eyes, the ruby pin in his snow-white cravat, the white breeches that tightly hugged his muscular thighs. Only his dark-brown hair, left in an unruly mess of thick waves, hinted at the rebel beneath the façade.
God have mercy. She’d never seen him look more powerful and confident, not even when he’d been wielding a sword. The sight of him nearly undid her.
But it was his smile that captivated her, that easy grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes as he laughed at something said by one of the men with him.
When he saw her, he froze. Only for a heartbeat’s pause, yet long enough that their gazes locked. This time when a smile curled his lips, she knew it was for her and her alone, and an ache of longing corkscrewed itself deep into her core.
This is only a dream. She pulled in a deep breath to calm her spiking pulse as his gaze dropped over her to slowly assess how her satin gown draped over her body, how her hair was pinned in a riot of misbehaving curls on her crown. His smile deepened. Tonight isn’t real. A low heat began to simmer in her belly, and he prickled goose bumps across her bare skin everywhere he looked. Only a dream…
Please, God, don’t let me wake up!
His eyes never left her as Claudia led her through the crowd toward him and the small group of friends gathered around him. She barely heard Claudia introduce her to her brother, Marcus, Duke of Hampton, to his wife, Danielle, and to the Earl of Sandhurst and his countess, because with every thumping heartbeat, she was aware only of the heat of Merritt’s gaze on her as he waited patiently to claim her for the evening as his guest.
When he finally did, taking her hand and bowing over it, she wasn’t prepared for the tingle in her fingertips that spread up her arm and landed heavily in her breasts.
“Miss Chase.” His deep voice fluttered through her. “You look absolutely enchanting this evening.”
His words were merely empty flattery in front of his friends. Her head knew that, yet her foolish heart yearned for it to mean so much more.
“And where is the judge?” Claudia craned her neck to search through the crush. “I want to introduce Miss Chase to your father.”
Veronica’s knees turned to jelly. She wasn’t at all prepared for that!
“Father’s here, but he’s lost somewhere in the party,” Merritt explained. “The last I saw of him, he was cornering the Duke of Chatham into making a donation to the Foundling Hospital. We’ll have to make introductions later.”
She eased out a silent sigh. Thank God. More nervousness percolated inside her at the thought of meeting his father than it had at meeting the duke and earl.
“Good, you’ve got champagne.” The duchess nodded at Veronica’s glass. “We can make toasts.” She held up her own flute and explained, “Tonight, while the rest of the party is celebrating the Lithuanian contingent, we’re celebrating something even better.”
“And what is that, Your Grace?”
The duchess beamed. “Merritt has been named King’s Counsel!”
Merritt dropped his gaze to his glass and said nothing as he watched the bubbles escape to the surface.
“You have?” Veronica’s chest warmed with genuine happiness for him, even if the news only widened the chasm between them. “That’s wonderful.”
His gaze raised solemnly to meet hers. “Is it?”
“Isn’t it?”
“Doubtful.”
“Not at all.”
“A mistake.”
She lifted her glass to toast him. “Well deserved.”
He smiled faintly, surrendering the argument although obviously not at all convinced.
Suddenly, she was aware of everyone’s curious stares moving back and forth between her and Merritt, as if they were watching two actors onstage. She quickly took a sip of champagne to cover her self-consciousness, although she supposed tonight they were exactly that—two people playing out their parts.
The Earl of Sandhurst lifted a brow. “Do you two often converse like that?”
“Yes,” they answered with simultaneous sighs of aggravation.
Their gazes immediately darted to the other, which drew a small smile from Veronica and a frown from Merritt.
“Well then.” The Duke of Hampton raised his glass, offering the toast his wife had started. “To Merritt Rivers, the best KC in the empire.”
Merritt’s lips twisted as he reluctantly joined in by lifting his glass, but he corrected, “Next to my father.”
They all smiled at that and drank both to his father and to him, yet Veronica noticed the distraction darkening his face. God help her, she noticed everything about him. But then, when a man was this dashing, how could any living woman not?
“And what are we toasting?” An elegantly dressed older man with silver-gray hair approached the group, welcomed by all with warm smiles.
Except by Merritt, who suddenly stiffened and paused grimly before lowering his glass.
“Even with the ton’s rapid channels of gossip,” the man continued affably, “you couldn’t possibly have heard of my success in twisting an additional thousand pounds out of Chatham for the hospital.”
Claudia beamed and rested a familiar hand on the man’s arm. “Merritt’s recognition as King’s Counsel, of course!”
“Well, then I’ve arrived at exactly the right moment.” The man snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman and lifted it into the air. “To Merritt and all he’s worked so hard to accomplish.” His eyes glistened. “We’re all so very proud of you.”
Merritt grimaced into his glass. “Thank you, Father.”
Veronica’s breath strangled. Father? Only Merritt’s hand shooting out to take her by the elbow and steady her kept her from sinking to the floor. How could she not have noticed immediately the similarities between the two men? The same build, same bright eyes, same jaw—
“How thoughtful of the regent to throw you a party to celebrate.”
The same sense of humor.
She slid a curious glance over the judge, and this time, she easily noted the commanding presence shared by the two men, their dashing charisma, and their undeniable good looks. A peculiar sensation struck her that she was staring at Merritt twenty-five years into the future.
His father caught her staring and crooked her a grin. Good Lord, the two men even shared the same smile!
He held out his hand towa
rd her. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
And if there were a God, He would make the earth open up and swallow her right then so they wouldn’t ever have to.
“Father, this is Miss Veronica Chase,” Merritt introduced, seemingly no more happy about the meeting than Veronica. “Miss Chase, may I introduce my father, the Honorable Mr. Justice James Rivers?”
Slipping her hand into his, she somehow managed to sink into a short curtsy without her jellied knees dropping her to the floor. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“And you, Miss Chase.” The judge sketched her a short bow before releasing her hand. “I hope you’re enjoying yourself this evening. First time to Carlton House?”
Veronica blinked. Who exactly did this man think she was? She slid a sideways glance at Merritt for answers about what he’d told his father about her, but his stoic expression gave no help.
So she answered truthfully, “Yes, it is.” Then the devil inside her made her add, “And most likely my last.”
“We should all be that fortunate,” the judge murmured with a wink.
Veronica smiled. She liked him. Of course, though, he made her as nervous as a mouse cornered by a cat. Yet there was something about him that she found endearing.
“And your family?” he asked, politely striking up conversation. “Are they here tonight as well? I wonder if I know them.”
Only if he frequented the docks and rookeries…but then, didn’t his son? “Perhaps you’ve encountered them in your judgeship.”
“Ah, so your family’s involved with the courts and law?”
Her lips curled. “You could say that.”
Beside her, Merritt smothered a curse only she could hear and tossed back the rest of his champagne.
“If you’ll all excuse us,” he interjected before his father could ask her more questions—and before she could give more answers. “I’d like to take Miss Chase for a turn through the party.” He placed his empty glass onto the tray of a passing footman and held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”
A tingle spread up though her from her toes. She knew he’d only asked in order to separate her from his father, yet wild horses couldn’t have stopped her from accepting this invitation. Not tonight, not in the middle of her fairy tale. So she slipped her hand into his, to willingly be swept away.
Placing her hand on his arm, he led her away from the group. His friends’ and father’s curious stares surely followed after them.
“Your friends are lovely,” she commented in a voice just low enough not to be overheard by anyone standing nearby in the crush.
“They’re like family to me. I’d be lost without them.”
“And your father is quite impressive.”
“He means the world to me.” He paused in front of the attendant positioned at the end of the room to change out her almost empty glass of champagne for a fresh one. “They all do.”
She mumbled her thanks as she took the glass and raised it to her lips, eyeing him carefully over the rim. “What did you tell your friends about me?”
“The truth.” He led her deeper into the party. “That you’re a legal associate who’s helping me uncover information about the riots.”
Not quite the truth. “And what did you tell your father?”
“Nothing.”
She kept the sting of that from registering on her face by lifting the glass to her lips and taking a long swallow. Of course he wouldn’t have said anything about her. She might be dressed like a princess, but Merritt still saw her as nothing more than a criminal.
After all, that was the only reason she was here. So she changed the conversation back to business. “What do you want me to do tonight?”
“Lady Malmesbury is in attendance.” He nodded at an acquaintance in the crowd. “I want you to get close to her and find out who was in the Malmesbury carriage three nights ago.”
“Is that all?” she muttered sarcastically. “Might as well ask me to dance with the regent. I have just as good a chance of doing that.”
He slid her a sideways glance. “If you’re not up to the challenge, then I suppose we can call off the evening.”
And your pardon along with it. The words lingered between them as clearly as if he’d spoken them aloud.
“No, I can do it.” She’d never let him think her weak. Not him of all men. “But I have no idea who Lady Malmesbury is.”
“I’ll point her out to you when I see her. She’s here. The men at the door confirmed it when I arrived.” His eyes swept over the crowd. “You’ll approach her at an opportune moment, make conversation, and uncover what information you can.” He paused. “But don’t take any risks.”
She nodded. “Because it would put your mission in jeopardy.”
He admitted quietly, keeping his attention straight ahead, “Because I don’t want you to be hurt.” Before her surprised mind could process that, he swiftly—if blatantly—changed topics. “Quite the party, isn’t it? Let’s circle through the rooms so you can see more of the place.”
They moved farther into the party and through each of the reception rooms that held a specific form of entertainment for the guests…rooms for cards and games, picture galleries, dining rooms, a separate music room where a quartet played unnoticed by the guests. She could barely take it all in. Of course, her attention wasn’t helped by having Merritt at her side, stealing most of her concentration away without even trying.
Finally, they arrived at the ballroom and the beating heart of the party. Somewhere within this crush was Lady Malmesbury, she was certain…along with the prince regent, a foreign prince or two, the Duke of Wellington, the prime minister, every peer in the Lords, and most everyone who served in Whitehall. Nervousness flared inside her and ricocheted out to the ends of her fingers and toes.
She didn’t belong here. With every passing heartbeat, she waited for someone to point at her, call her out for a fraud, have the footmen remove her—
As if reading her mind, Merritt placed his hand over hers on his sleeve and reassuringly squeezed her fingers.
Her nervousness ebbed. He might never let her into his trust, but he had faith in her skills as a thief-taker and spy. She would let that be enough for now.
They joined the end of the long line of people waiting to be announced by the master of ceremonies so they could enter the room and officially join the party. As they inched closer to the front, Veronica peered into the ballroom, which seemed to shimmer in a sea of satin, silks, and jewels. Beautiful gold and crystal chandeliers as large as carriages cast their candlelight onto the room, revealing what appeared to be all of English society and an army of uniformed attendants in old-fashioned powdered wigs. From its balcony on the other side of the room, a full orchestra played strains of dance music, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected the dancers as they glided past.
Finally, they reached the head of the line. As Merritt handed their invitations to the master of ceremonies, he leaned down to bring his mouth close to her ear. “There’s something I need to tell you about the introduction that’s about to be made.”
An amused smile teased at her lips. “What’s that? That you truly are Mrs. Fitzherbert after all?”
“No.” He straightened and grimaced into the ballroom. “Something much worse.”
The master of ceremonies thumped his staff loudly against the floor and called out, “Miss Veronica Chase…and the Right Honorable Lord Rivers!”
Fourteen
Merritt steeled himself as Veronica wheeled to gape at him. “Lord Rivers?”
“I’m a baron,” he answered grimly and took her arm to lead her into the ballroom.
“You’re a lord?” she repeated as if she couldn’t fathom what that was. “A lord?”
“Stunned the daylights out of me, too, I daresay,” he muttered and guided her forward toward the dance floor.
>
“A baron—”
“It wasn’t my idea to become one.”
“—who sits in the House of Lords.”
“Unwillingly.” He grimaced. “If it helps, it’s only a title without any land.”
She stopped him with a sharp tug to his arm. “No, that doesn’t help.”
Damnation. He supposed he deserved this, but why did she have to keep staring at him as if he’d just attempted to kill the king? “If you’ll remember, I told you the night we met that I was a peer of the realm.”
She arched an accusing brow. “You also told me that you were Mrs. Fitzherbert.”
True. He was beginning to dislike that sharp mind of hers. “There was no reason to tell you about the barony that night.”
“So you waited until right now?”
“It gave us entree to the ball and an opportunity to question Lady Malmesbury.”
Her brow eased down at that bit of far-fetched logic as her lips hardened into a tight line. God help him, he wanted to kiss her mouth until it softened.
“Until a month ago, I was nothing but an ordinary barrister.” He gave a frustrated roll of his tight shoulders beneath his jacket. “Believe me, if I could have refused the title, I would have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because it means a great deal to my father.” And he would do anything for the people he loved. Even become a goddamned peer.
She blinked, not quite able to understand all he was revealing. God knew he barely understood it himself. “But—but how can you work as a barrister and be a baron?”
“Very carefully.” He’d never spoken truer words in his life.
“And one who prowls the city streets at night with a sword?”
An Extraordinary Lord Page 15