A Perfect Likeness (31 page)

It was well gone nine when at last Sally finished dressing her hair again, pinning in the final satin ribbon and rearranging one of the little strings of pearls. Bryony’s mouth felt dry as she rose to her feet and turned for the maid to drape the shawl over her arms, and then she picked up her reticule and left the apartment.

Glancing down into the quadrangle from the gallery, she saw a throng of carriages, their teams stamping and tossing their heads, the harness and brasswork gleaming brightly in the fading light. Everywhere there were lanterns, throwing soft pools of blue, crimson, and gold against the stern gray stone. There were even lights among the old ruins, sending shafts of brightness against the ivy-clad walls,

The noise in the great hall was tremendous, the orchestra in the minstrel gallery sometimes barely audible above the laughter and chatter of the guests. The sofas and chairs beneath the floral arbor were all occupied, and jewels flashed constantly beneath the immense iron chandeliers suspended from the hammerbeam roof so far above. The hoops of fruit, greenery, and ribbons moved gently in the rising warmth, the ribbons twisting now one way and now the other. Clouds obscured the skies outside now, so that reflections of the ball could be seen plainly in the tall stained-glass windows. It was as if another, more ghostly ball were in progress out there.

The orchestra was playing an allemande as she approached the master of ceremonies. Before he announced her name, she inquired if Sebastian had arrived, and was informed that he had not. She felt more vulnerable than ever then, for if he was not there, then she must face Felix entirely on her own.

Her name was announced and immediately all eyes swung toward her. The sudden postponement of the betrothal was in every mind. Her strange conduct at the assembly was remembered, as was her odd disappearance from the water party; and now she arrived at the ball over an hour late and looking anything but relaxed. She was aware of being the center of interest, and there were discreet whispers as she made her way reluctantly toward the dais.

Felix and Delphine stood on either side of the duchess’s crimson-and-gold sofa. The wheelchair waited nearby, but for the moment the comfort of the upholstered seat, set so impressively in the middle of the dais, allowed the duchess an unimpeded view of the floor.

She wore a gown of stiff cream satin, embroidered all over in gold and burnt orange. There were tall ostrich plumes in her hair and magnificent diamonds at her throat. Her bandaged foot rested on a footstool and her lace-mittened hands clasped the handle of a silver cane. She looked very regal, but her rouged face was as sour as ever.

Felix wore a coat of midnight blue and a lace-edged shirt of particular richness. There was a sapphire pin in his cravat and his long legs were encased in light gray breeches the cut of which would have made even Mr. Brummell envious. He watched Bryony as she approached, and there was a cool, confident smile on his lips, as if he found something rather amusing. She was wary of that smile, sensing that it boded ill for her in some way, and her fears were realized the moment she reached the dais, for he suddenly stepped down to meet her, drawing her hand to his lips and asking her to honor him with a dance.

He smiled, he looked the epitome of charm and gallantry, and anyone watching would have found it impossible to believe that earlier he had attempted to force her against her will. She was distracted, uncertain of what to do, and the initiative was taken from her when he suddenly caught her hand again, his fingers very tight about hers as he determinedly led her onto the crowded floor. “Smile, my dear,” he murmured, “for you don’t wish to draw attention to yourself, do you?”

She glanced anxiously around, hoping against hope that she would suddenly see Sebastian, but there was no sign of him. What a fool she’d been to come down before she was sure he had arrived.

The cotillion began, the sequence taking her and Felix apart almost immediately as favors and partners were exchanged. She longed for the dance to end, so that she could hurry from the floor and escape from Felix, but as the pattern brought them together again, his arm slipped lightly around her waist and she knew that the lightness of that embrace was deceptive, for he would not allow her to leave him until he was ready.

“Oh, my sweet Bryony,” he murmured, “how neatly you have once again fallen into my trap, for what will my damned cousin think now, hmm? This afternoon you told him that I forced myself upon you, and my cousin wanted you away from this place so that he could challenge me. Now he will arrive here and find that you have been dancing with me, that you made no protest when I asked you to partner me, and that you ended the dance by kissing me.”

Before she could stop him, he pulled her close, kissing her fully on the lips as the last favor of the dance demanded. In the moment of silence as the music ended and before conversation broke out once more, he grinned around at those nearby, inviting laughter as he announced that he had deemed it advisable to kiss the bride while the bridegroom’s back was turned.

Bryony felt so numb that she could only stare at him, her cheeks draining of all color. “Dear God, how I despise you,” she whispered.

“No doubt,” he murmured, “but then, you should have shown a great deal more wisdom, should you not? I shall tell Sebastian that you invited my attentions this afternoon, and if he did not believe it earlier, he will certainly begin to wonder now, will he not? I will after all succeed in making him look a fool for ever wanting you. You’ll get nothing at all, and you’ll have lost your reputation into the bargain.
Mais, c’est la vie, n’est-ce pas?”

She felt close to tears, for she knew that every word he said was true; by her own foolishness she had walked straight into the waiting snare, and already the wire was tightening around her. If only she had waited until Sebastian had arrived, then she would have avoided it all, but she had not—

Then suddenly she remembered something he’d said and looked up sharply into his eyes. “How do you know what Sebastian’s original plans were? How do you know he wanted me gone from here so that he could call you out?” She and Sebastian had been alone in the woods.

He gave a cool, contemptuous smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he murmured, and then, still smiling, he bowed and walked away from her.

For a moment she couldn’t move, but then a
ländler
was announced and people began to return to the floor. A young army captain approached her to dance with him, but she shook her head, suddenly unable to keep back the tears anymore. Gathering her skirts, she fled from the floor, pushing through the astonished crowds and out toward the porch. She heard the murmurs of surprise and interest behind her, but she didn’t halt.

She emerged into the almost dark quadrangle, walking quickly past the carriages toward the ruins. She stopped only when she had found a secluded place where the lights did not illuminate everything, and then she leaned back against the cold, unyielding stone, taking deep breaths to try to stem the flow of tears.

She remained there for quite some time, and gradually the sobs subsided. She could not return to the ball, not now; she would return to the quiet of her apartment instead. Taking a final deep breath, she began to walk back through the ruins, intending to use the back staircase by the bathhouse again rather than the very public route through the great hall and up the grand stairs, but as she was hurrying across the end of the quadrangle, she suddenly heard another carriage arriving, the wheels echoing beneath the archway for a moment. She halted, recognizing it immediately, for it was Sebastian’s.

It drew to a standstill by the porch and the footmen jumped down to lower the steps and open the door. Sebastian emerged, his tail figure particularly elegant tonight in a tight black velvet coat and dove-gray breeches. He removed his hat and tucked it under his arm, and although he did not seem to look toward her, she sensed that he knew she was there. Someone emerged from the porch then—it was Felix—and Sebastian turned sharply about to look at him. Bryony went hesitantly a little closer, and she heard every word which passed between them.

Felix folded his arms, his smile almost contemptuously confident. “Word has it that you wish to speak to me, cousin,”

“Word has it correctly, as you well know,” replied Sebastian, his voice dangerously soft.

“Perhaps I should warn you that the lady’s honor is not worth fighting for.”

“Indeed? And what would you know of honor?”

Felix gave a curt laugh. “I know this much, Sheringham: the lady is particularly ambitious and has pursued me since her arrival here, she has invited my attentions on more than one occasion, and I have not been tardy in accommodating her. She has been hell-bent upon winning me, no matter what she may have said to you, and if you still do not care to believe me, then I suggest you inquire inside about a certain cotillion she and I danced together a short while ago. She made no protests about being my partner, and she did not object when I kissed her very publicly on the lips.”

“I don’t need to inquire, for quite obviously you are sure of your ground.” Bryony’s lips parted with dismay and she closed her eyes for a moment. He believed Felix! He spoke again. “I still mean to call you out, however, for your conduct of late has been too blatant for me to ignore anymore.”

“And what of her conduct?”

“What I think of her is none of your business, Felix.”

“You obviously don’t hold her in particularly high regard, so why are you really intent on a duel? Because I’ve bedded a strumpet with notions above her station? Or perhaps it’s because I bedded her first!”

“Name your seconds, Felix,” said Sebastian coldly.

“Do you wish to forfeit your damned life as well as your pride?”

“I’m not the one puffed up with too much pride, Felix. That dubious title goes to you. And I don’t need to remind you of the old saying that pride comes before a fall.”

“I will not be falling, cousin,” said Felix abruptly, “for if you challenge me, then I will have the choice of weapons, and I hardly think I’m about to choose pistols, do you?”

“I didn’t for one moment imagine you would.”

“When do you wish to settle this?’’

“Now would seem as good a time as any.”

“You’re set upon destruction, aren’t you?” said Felix, a sneer entering his voice.

“Certes,
cousin,” replied Sebastian steadily, “but not necessarily my own.”

“Well, I promise you that it will not be mine,” snapped Felix, “and I think we may dispense with seconds, don’t you? I’m at your disposal, sir.” He nodded in the direction of the conservatory. “I shall await you.”

His steps sounded very loud as he walked away, and Bryony suddenly realized that the little groups of coachmen and footmen who had congregated as usual to talk among themselves while they waited, were now all silent, having listened to every word of the exchange.

Bryony took a hesitant step toward Sebastian, but he didn’t seem to see her; instead he turned to the carriage again, holding out his hand. For the first time Bryony realized that Petra had been there all along. She stepped slowly down, her oyster taffeta skirts shining in the light from a nearby lantern. A knotted blue shawl was over her slender arms and there were sapphires at her throat and in her hair.

Sebastian smiled at her. “I suppose you are about to plead with me once again to be sensible?”

“No, not anymore, for I know well enough when your mind is finally made up.” She hesitated. “Sebastian, if Felix is right, if she
did
dance with him—”

“I thought you weren’t going to plead with me,” he said, smiling a little and suddenly drawing her close and kissing her softly on the lips. Then he walked away toward the conservatory, where a lamp was burning now.

Bryony felt as if her heart were breaking, for that kiss told her once and for all that he had lied. Petra was his mistress; she had his love and she always would.

Petra turned suddenly, looking directly at Bryony. “I trust you’re pleased with yourself, madam, for he is risking his life tonight because of you.”

Bryony said nothing, but began to follow Sebastian toward the conservatory. Petra hurried after her, catching her arm angrily. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?”

“Let go of my arm, my lady, for I have every intention of being there, and nothing you say can stop me.”

Petra’s eyes flashed, but she slowly released her. “How notorious you’ll be after this, Miss St. Charles. You’ll be spoken of as the woman for whose dubious reputation two of the most eligible gentlemen in England fought a duel. Who knows, you may even be able to say that one of them died because of you.” She walked past Bryony then, the sapphires at her throat flashing deep purple against her pale skin.

Bryony closed her eyes for a moment, but she knew she had to be there, no matter what would be said of her afterward. Slowly she followed Petra, stepping from the cool of the night into the closeness and warm humidity of the conservatory.

The citrus leaves shone in the light from the solitary oil lamp, their shadows monstrous on the dark glass all around. Felix had already discarded his coat and waistcoat and was inspecting two light swords he had selected from the display on the wall. He balanced first one and then the other in the palm of his hand, and then discarded one, slicing the gleaming blade of the other audibly through the still air.

Sebastian took off his coat and untied his cravat, turning then as he heard Petra approaching along the path, but he didn’t look at Bryony, standing just beyond the edge of the light, her silver gown ghostly and indistinct.

Petra went to him, slipping her hand in his and looking earnestly up into his eyes. “Please, Sebastian, I know I said I wouldn’t plead with you, but now I must. It’s madness to go on with this.”

“I could not back down now, even if I wanted to,” he said gently.

Bryony lowered her eyes, unable to bear seeing the way he smiled down into his mistress’s tear-filled eyes.