Louisa smiled slowly as her eyelids drooped a little over her brown eyes. She lightly ran a hand across her bosom as if wanting to bring attention to the transparency of her dress.
“Yes, isn’t it. Thomas designed it especially for me. He is quite clever with the needle, don’t you think?”
Heather had only a chance to smile a reply before the woman went on.
“Did you have your gown made here, darling? I never see you in any of the shops in Charleston. Don’t tell me Brandon has become a penny pincher since he married you. He was always so generous before.”
“He had this gown made for me in London,” Heather replied rather brittlely.
“Yes, of course,” Louisa smiled. “It must have been that same shop where he bought some gowns for me.”
Heather chose to ignore the woman’s crude barbs. It was Brandon who felt the irritation and anger because his former mistress couldn’t acknowledge his marriage and treat his wife with at least a nominal respect.
“Did you also get those earrings in London?” Louisa inquired. “For some reason they seem familiar.”
“They belonged to Brandon’s mother,” Heather answered.
Louisa stiffened. “Yes, I recognize them now,” she said and without another word strode haughtily away.
Jeff chuckled as he bent near Heather’s ear. “You’ve cut her to the quick, Tory. She had already laid claim to everything that was Brandon’s.”
It was some moments later when Matthew Bishop arrived by himself, free by choice to direct his attention to any young woman who happened to catch his fancy. His raiment was composed of the finest of pinkish gray silk with a light plum jacket to accentuate the hue. His stock rose so high it seemed about to swallow his chin as great billows of lace tumbled down his chest and hung from his cuffs to nearly cover his hands. He doffed his plumed hat and ignoring his host, stepped to take Heather’s hand. Brandon mumbled a hasty introduction and tried to urge him on, but the man held his place and spoke in reply.
“Brandon, I always admired your taste in horses but I never dreamt you could extend it to the realms of feminine pulchritude with such an amazing degree of success.” He turned to Heather with a confident smile. “Madam, you are most enchanting.” And lowering his gaze to her bosom he continued. “Your beauty makes my poor heart flutter and your charms almost bring a stutter to my tongue.”
He bent low over her hand for what seemed to her husband an unduly long time. Brandon reddened slightly and clenched his fist. When Matt rose again, it was Jeff who took his arm and ushered him quickly into the ballroom, out of harm’s way.
The music was quick as another dance began, and Brandon took his wife by the hand and presented her to the ballroom. Two lines were formed by gay couples, one of the belles, the other their escorts, and Heather found herself swept along in the happy group. A minuet followed and Brandon bowed to her as it began, where in turn she smiled and sank into a deep curtsy before him. They grapevined, toepointed and crossed to the music while he, quite frequently, cast anxious glances toward her bosom. When the dances were done, he drew her aside and spoke low.
“Madam, you’re ruining my evening with that gown. I beg for some consideration.”
She raised innocent eyes to him. “But, Brandon, Louisa’s gown is much more immodest and there are others.”
“I don’t give a damn what anybody else is wearing,” he ground out. “It’s your attire that concerns me. I expect you to come out of it any moment—and it makes me nervous.”
“I’m quite safe, Brandon,” she replied sweetly. “I don’t think there’s anything for you to worry . . .”
“Brandon, good fellow,” interrupted a man’s voice, and Matt joined them. “Would you allow me to dance with your charming wife? I shan’t keep her for long.”
Brandon could see no out and handed her over grudgingly and watched unhappily to say the least, as the other man led her onto the floor.
As they danced Heather felt the man’s devouring gaze upon her, and he took advantage of the steps of the minuet. His eyes as she curtsied were on her bosom, his hands held hers possessively as they crossed, and through the entire dance she was aware of being leered at.
Now, as Matt had earlier requested, the music swept into a rhythm called a waltz, and he pulled a reluctant Heather into his eager grasp to teach her the steps.
“It’s really quite simple, Heather, dear sweet. Just relax and follow my lead.”
It was not possible to relax with his arms around her so familiarly, and she fought him to keep his hands where they should be. He was bound to make Brandon furious with this dance, and she was about to beg her leave of him when she glanced to where her husband stood and found him in Louisa’s clutches. The blonde was laughing and leaning against him, giving him every opportunity to take advantage of her gaping neckline which Heather was sure bared her to the floor. He made no move to pull away, and Heather’s back stiffened as unreasonable jealousy possessed her. She missed the step Matt was trying to teach her and ended up on his foot. Her face flamed scarlet.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Bishop. I fear I’m far too clumsy for this dance.”
Matt laughed. “On the contrary, Heather, you’re very graceful. Yet you must relax more.” His hand squeezed her waist. “Come, don’t be so nervous. I won’t bite you.”
She tried again to follow him but she couldn’t keep her eyes away from her husband and as a result, Matt’s foot suffered again.
He laughed. “Perhaps if we have some wine,” he said, gazing down at her apologetic face.
“Yes, perhaps,” she whispered, mortified, and let him pull her along to the refreshment tables.
It was a determination born of jealousy that made her laugh gaily as they spun about into another waltz. The champagne had little to do with it. She learned the dance quickly and after a few sweeping whirls about the floor, found it rather delightful.
Though he was not the best of dancers, Matt was persistent and when Jeff came to claim her after several more waltzes, he gave her up almost as reluctantly as Brandon had.
“It appears that you have captured another male heart, Tory,” Jeff grinned, when they were into the dance.
Only half listening, she shrugged her shoulders as she searched the room for Brandon. She found him standing with a group of men and Louisa nowhere in sight. But where had he been when she had looked for him several moments before? She had not been able to find him or Louisa, and their disappearance disturbed her. What if he had found the sight of Louisa’s bountiful bosom more than he could bear and had taken her outside for a few fevered caresses? She bit her lip as she thought of Brandon fondling Louisa and a dull ache crept into her heart.
“What’s troubling you, Tory?” Jeff inquired softly. “You don’t appear to be enjoying yourself.”
She managed a smile for him. “I’m afraid I’ve been bitten by that friend of yours, the green monster. I find I really can’t ignore Louisa as I thought I could.”
He laughed softly as his eyes shone. “So you love him then?”
“Of course,” she replied. “Was there any doubt?”
“Oh, some,” he smiled. “I would have guessed that once you hated him.”
Her head snapped up in surprise. “Whatever made you think that?”
His mouth twitched with amusement. “Oh, I don’t know. Just a passing thought, I suppose.”
When the last strains of the melody were fading from the hall Jeff led her back to Brandon who scowled blackly at her as his brother went to find a partner for the next dance. His jaw was set firmly and a muscle twitched in his cheek.
“Did you enjoy learning the waltz, madam?” he inquired sarcastically. “I’m sure you had a most adept instructor. I could not have taught you half so well.”
She lifted her nose into the air. “I wasn’t aware that you knew how to waltz, Brandon,” she replied saucily, though she was not feeling that way.
“Oh? And would you have allowed me to te
ach you if you had known?” He laughed sharply. “Surely being in your husband’s arms isn’t half so exciting as being fondled by a strange man.”
Heather bit off a sharp retort about Louisa and stood stubbornly silent.
“Perhaps you would care to demonstrate what you have learned.” He motioned for the musicians to begin another waltz. “Come, let us see what he has taught you.”
He took her by the arm, none too gently, and guided her onto the floor as the strains of the waltz filled the room. They began to dance, slowly at first, almost haltingly, until the rhythm of the music eased their angry tensions and they began to unbend. The haunting chords seemed to entrance them until each was filled with the other’s presence, forgetting everything else. They moved with the music and swept and swirled around the hall as the enchanting refrain became a part of them. Heather knew only that his arm was around her and his dark, handsome face above her. He was conscious only of her softness within his embrace, her deep blue eyes before him and the fantastic rhythm that seemed to lead them around the floor as if they were nothing more than puppets on a string.
Gradually the two of them became aware that the hall was silent but for the music and that they danced alone. They stopped and gazed about as if newly awakened and were met with a long round of applause from their guests who had retreated to the edge of the dance floor and had watched their blissful flight in silent awe.
With a laugh Brandon bowed and Heather stepped deep into a curtsy, acknowledging the gracious appreciation of their guests, then Brandon nodded to the musicians and they picked up another waltz. He took Heather into his arms once again and they began to dance as other couples joined them. From the sideline Louisa glared at Heather’s back over her glass of champagne.
Having reestablished the tempo of the party, Brandon and Heather left the dance floor and made their way to the refreshment table. Heather accepted the glass of champagne he proffered and saw that for himself he chose a stronger brew. They made their rounds together among their guests and conversed lightly and gaily with them. But as a rigadoon began, an elderly gentleman snatched Heather away. Then one man after another and among them that gay blade Matthew, found his way again to trying his skill on the ballroom floor with her. But Brandon favored few women with that invitation and spent most of his time drinking.
Heather finally pleaded for a rest from her eager partners and found Brandon contemplating the amber liquid in his glass as Louisa hung about his neck, whispering to him how he was being ignored and seeking to console him while she pointed out that his wife spent her time dancing with other men. Heather slowly burned when Louisa raised a triumphant eyebrow and smiled tauntingly at her. Brandon slowly lifted his gaze to his wife’s face and his agony was successfully concealed behind a dark scowl. Matt took that inopportune moment to come up behind Heather and place a drunken kiss upon her shoulder. Brandon’s eyes filled with rage and excusing himself and Heather, he took her by the arm and escorted her out of the ballroom, through the hall and into the study where he closed the door behind him and sneered at her.
“You seem to be having a gay time, madam. Apparently you enjoy being pawed and petted.”
Heather stiffened and her eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you!” she gasped. “How dare you say that to me!”
Setting his drink down, Brandon strode forward, but she stood her ground and returned him glare for glare.
“Your sodden mind deceives you, sir,” she spat. “I did but play the gentle hostess and entertained your guests while you portrayed a trembling stud to stand in rut as that fair-haired cow twisted her tail and bared her udders and lowed so sweetly in your ear.”
“Oh hell!” he cried and threw up his hands. “You turn on me when all this night I’ve had to stand and watch you pulled and petted and rubbed against that simpering fop who seeks to prove himself a man by bedding every simple-minded wench who falls his way!”
“Simple minded—Oh!” She could not find the words to reply and spun about angrily, turning her back upon him.
Brandon’s whiskey laden reasoning betrayed him and self-satisfaction rode his voice. “So, you cannot face me. You know I speak the truth.”
He stepped close behind her and the heady smell of her set his sodden senses reeling and turned his countenance to one of self-pity.
“Why do you do this to me? Why do you turn from me and seek another’s caresses? I sit in calm exile, always wanting but never touching, and you let that simpering dandy whom you hardly know console your body with his nearness.”
His raging desire overcame his common sense and he grasped her roughly from behind, one hand crushing a tempting breast while the other slid downward over her belly to rest between her thighs, his lips hungrily seeking the bare white shoulder. She gasped in equal parts of anger and surprise at the swiftness of his passion, then whirled and with all her strength, pushed him away, stumbling backward to lean breathless against the desk. Her face burned in embarrassed resentment at the callow crudeness of his ploy.
Brandon stood with his arms spread in amazement at her reaction. Almost pleadingly he spoke.
“What do you have against me? God above, tell me why I must live this monkish existence and then stand aside and watch you whet some other’s appetite.”
“You fool!” she choked. “You utter raving fool!” She thrust a trembling finger at the door. “Do you think I want—Oh!”
She could go no further and in dejected frustration, flew past him to that portal, but before opening it, she turned and spoke in withering contempt.
“Go on. Go find your mewling bedmate and share your drunken wits with her. You deserve each other.”
With that she fled the room, leaving Bandon standing in painful confusion, and hurried toward the ballroom door. Suddenly realizing her flustered state, she paused outside a moment to regain her composure. Nearby Jeff stood conversing with two young ladies and when he glanced up to see her expression and hesitation, realized something was wrong. He excused himself immediately and came to her side.
“What’s the matter, Tory? You look as if you’ve just bitten the devil’s tail.”
“My vision of the devil is a blonde whore,” she said derisively. “How can one man be so blind?”
Looking beyond her to the study door, he laughed softly. “I can guess my brother is being his usual charming, idiotic self again. But come on, princess, don’t be sad tonight.” He took her hand. “Would you care for some refreshment?”
She nodded and soon found herself with a glass of champagne of which she took a deep sip, raising the glass to her lips with trembling hands.
“You always seem to be near when I need someone to comfort me, Jeff,” she murmured when the heady drink seemed to have calmed her.
He laughed. “Yes, around here they call me Saint Jeffrey behind my back.”
She smiled, feeling her spirits lighten a trifle with his jest, and he led her by the hand to a quiet corner.
“There are a few things I should explain about Brandon,” he said. “Perhaps you will be able to understand him better then. You see, my father couldn’t bear to see another man’s hands upon Mother, however innocently, and Brandon is realizing he has the same problem where you are concerned. Before he met you, he believed he could control his emotions and felt very self-assured. Having never sampled honest love, he obviously finds himself now at a loss and cannot cope with the emotions you inspire. Believe it or not, Heather, he’s a man of strong convictions, and with you he finds he betrays some of these old convictions. You lay bare his soul before him, and he finds himself an entirely different man from what he had supposed. It’s a little frightening for a man his age to come awake and find that a mere girl can disrupt his thoughts so completely.”
“Is that what I do, Jeff?” she questioned softly.
He grinned. “Honey, you can bet he never troubled himself with a second glance when Louisa danced with other men.”
Before he could go on to reassure her, Mat
t joined them and was in a festive, ebullient mood considerably enhanced by a liberal intake of alcoholic spirits.
“Oh come now, you two. You’re looking much too serious for such a gay evening,” he admonished. “Heather, my dear, it’s apparent your spirits need reviving.”
He made a monocle of his forefinger and thumb and peered at her through it, allowing his observing gaze to move from her face to her dainty silk shoes and then back again, pausing a very brief but pleasurable moment on her breasts.
“And Doctor Bishop prescribes more exercise for your condition. And to that end, a brief tour of the dance floor is in order.” Presenting his arm in a stiff decorous manner, he smiled charmingly. “Will you accompany me, my most lovely Madam Birmingham.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Heather saw Louisa approaching and not wishing to bear the brunt of her jealous jibes, accepted his arm.
Jeff also caught sight of Louisa and understood Heather’s decision to dance. The woman stopped to watch the couple whirl away, and he contemplated her narrowing eyes and her tightening mouth as her gaze followed them around the floor. Obviously she didn’t take kindly to finding herself no longer the center of attention and almost completely ignored while Heather was nearly fought over for dances by enthusiastic males smitten with her beauty.
From her Jeff’s eyes wandered to his sister-in-law. Matt was busily making petting attempts while Heather’s hands constantly moved to keep his from making any serious contact. He watched the two of them for a while wondering if he should cut in, then glanced toward the door and saw Brandon standing there, a completely blank look upon his face as he watched his wife in Matt’s arms. Jeff realized what an effort his brother was making to appear calm and that he was precariously treading the fine brink of violence.
He wasted not one moment more in making his way to Heather’s side. She looked up in relief as he approached but Matt was not grateful at all for the interruption.
“Oh really, Jeffrey, old chap, not again. It’s become a dreadful bore not being able to complete a dance with her. Someone’s always breaking us apart.”
The Flame and the Flower Page 38