Dancing On Air (2 page)

A stab of pain shot through her knee and she was forced to lean heavily on her black cane for a moment.
Yes, soon age or injury takes us all.

Lord Evander Gainswith cradled a brandy balloon between his elegant fingers as he stood in front of a cheery fire. This room — the study, with its dark panelled walls, large fireplace and long windows — was his favourite. Not that he didn’t like the rest of the house. On the contrary, he loved it. He would be forever grateful to his grandmother, who had not only bequeathed him this house in Pimlico, but also a large enough inheritance so that he would never have to depend on his brother or, more to the point, his father. At twenty-four years of age he was his own man with independent means, as long as he didn’t lose his head. It felt good not to be beholden to his Father. In fact, for the first time in his adult life, he actually felt free. However, the small bubble of euphoria was fleeting. Evander may be his own man but his Father, the Duke, still managed to manipulate the family to his whim and will.

Evander turned to his friend and shook his dark head. ‘Truly Anthony, go on without me.’

‘Never. Besides, the evening is planned. I will not take no for an answer. We are meeting Harry and Simon at the club. Then it’s on to the Imperial Theatre for a taste of ballet before a late supper at The Griffin.’

‘I must be away in the morning...at first light.’

Anthony Sinclair lolled his thin frame over the silk covered rosewood chair and gave Evander a questioning look. ‘And where is it you go in the morning, at first light?’

He gave an exaggerated shudder. He was almost the opposite in build and appearance to Evander. Anthony was fine boned and had almost feminine features. His appearance had hounded him ever since school. He made a point of always dressing in dark colours. His clothes were generally without embellishment and, as soon as his hormones had allowed, he had grown a beard. Anthony did everything he could to look more masculine.

‘First to Gainswith Park and then on to Temperly, with Alistair,’ Evander said as he leaned elegantly against the marble mantle.

‘Good Lord, why?’ Anthony’s eyes rounded in horror.

‘Alistair says that he needs my help with overseeing the estate. He says it is time that I took my position in the family seriously.’

‘Whatever for? Besides, the estate belongs to your brother. He is the Marquess of Coltswood, not you. Why should he drag you away from all the fun of the city? They are his problems, not yours.’

‘I believe that is the point of the exercise: to take me away from the evil of the city and the corruption of my dearest friends,’ Evander said with a smile that reached his sherry coloured eyes. ‘Of course, the entire idea has father’s stamp of approval.’

‘The Duke!’ Anthony looked around nervously and straightened up in the chair out of habit. Anthony was Evander’s oldest friend and, being the third son of a disinterested father, had spent much of his time in the Duke’s household. Not that the Duke was particularly interested in Evander or Anthony either. ‘Oh, you don’t suppose he found out about Lizzy —’

‘Yes,’ Evander cut him off. ‘Which is why I am summoned to the North Country and will be detained for at least a fortnight. Perhaps even longer. Oh, and if you want to keep your head, do not mention Harry’s name in his presence. Or Alistair’s for that matter.’

‘Well how were we to know that it was a private affair? Harry said he knew the girl. You know he’s always talking about Lizzy.’

‘But who would have guessed that “Lizzy” was actually Lady Eliza Beckworth?’

‘Don’t look at me that way, Evander. I didn’t know. I was just as surprised as you were. He kept saying he knew her and that we would be welcome.’

Evander arched an eyebrow. ‘Was that before he implied to everyone in the room that he knew her in the biblical sense? Or before he tried to kiss her in front of Lord Dickson, her fiancée?’

‘You know Harry always leads with his heart.’

‘Duchess Fitzgerald fainted.’

‘He can be a little hot-headed.’

‘There’s talk of a duel and the engagement is off,’ Evander said as he threw back the brandy, and felt the warm burn slide down his throat.

‘Duels have been banned for years.’

‘And when has that ever stopped a gentleman seeking satisfaction? I do believe Lord Dickson was overheard saying that he would seek his with a foil.’

‘Good God, it makes me shudder at the thought. Perhaps Harry should lay low and keep his head down until all of this blows over?’

‘Perhaps indeed,’ Evander said flatly.

‘Anyway, my dear fellow, you must look on the bright side. I believe Lizzy is better off without Dickson — we all know what a brute he is,’ Anthony said, a smile spread across his face.

Evander gave him a steely glare.

Anthony drained his glass before setting down on the nearby table. ‘Now, now…there’s no need to get het up. I’m quite positive that everything will work out. So let us make our way to the club.’

‘Anthony, I leave at dawn.’

‘By carriage?’

‘Of course, but I do not see what importance my mode of transport has to do with anything.’

‘Of course it’s important. You can come and worship at the pretty feet of London’s Prima Ballerina, Florentia, and then sleep in the carriage all the way to Gainswith Park. If your brother insists on exiling you, you had better make tonight’s festivities count.’

‘Florentia, you say?’ Evander watched as Anthony nodded his head. ‘Well, I suppose I could tag along. Who knows what sort of trouble Harry is likely to get in if left unchecked.’

‘Exactly, Evander. A man can always count on a friend such as you.’

‘Why are we stopping? I thought that we were going to the club,’ Evander asked as he watched his friend bang the roof of their carriage with his stylish walking stick.

As Evander sat back against the padded leather seat his stomach rumbled. Hunger stabbed at his insides and he wished he had remembered to eat before they had left. Dinner was hours away and he wondered if he would make it.

‘We are, but I was thinking since you are going to be exiled for God only knows how long, we should truly make a night of it.’

‘What exactly do you mean?’ Evander asked as he leant forward.

‘You wanted to see the magnificent Florentia. Well, I thought that I should ask Michaels to reserve us the best seats in the theatre,’ Anthony said as he opened the door and stepped down from the carriage.

‘Michaels?’

‘Really, Evander, I truly despair for you. Do you not listen to the gossip and tales that circulate the club on a regular basis?’ With an exaggerated sigh, Anthony leaned against the carriage door. ‘’Tis common knowledge that a certain Mr Tinder Michaels has just purchased that slightly down-trodden Imperial Theatre.’

‘Are you acquainted with this gentleman?’

‘Of course not. However, when has that ever stopped me from procuring what I desire?’ Anthony said with a smile. ‘You can stay here if you wish. I shan’t be long.’

Evander scanned the busy street. A small eating house stood on the opposite corner. ‘No, I think I shall meet you in there,’ Evander said as he pointed across the road.

Anthony wrinkled his nose at the tattered shop front. ‘Do you believe that is wise?’

As if on cue, Evander’s stomach rumbled again. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said as he too stepped down from the carriage.

Anthony turned his attention to the driver and ordered, ‘Wait for us here.’ Without another glance the two men crossed the street before separating once they reached the other side.

Evander followed his nose. A tantalizing aroma of roasting meat beckoned him forward. He increased his pace and quickly walked up the three stone steps and through the scratched red door. The interior of the eating-house was dark and almost deserted. An elderly man stood in the doorway, which Evander could only assume led to the kitchen. He was a large man, in height as well as girth, with white hair and a large, snowy beard.

‘You are hungry?’

‘Yes,’ Evander said as his stomach rumbled.

‘Most of the food is not ready. I opened the door to allow the heated air to escape.’

Evander halted. ‘Forgive me. I smelt the aroma and my stomach followed it.’

The other man’s face broke into a smile. ‘Then sit down and I will do what I can. I have hot soup and freshly baked bread, if that will suffice.’

‘You have my thanks,’ Evander said as he sank into the nearest chair.

The old man nodded before he disappeared through the doorway. Evander looked around the room. There were a dozen or so dark wooden tables in varying sizes surrounded by spindly wooden chairs. There were no damask cloths or table embellishments; just bare tables scrubbed clean. There was one exception: the small table that sat closest to the kitchen door had a cornflower blue cloth draped over it and a small vase of tiny flowers. Evander stared at it for a minute and wondered why it was different. A long sideboard was positioned along the far wall and above it hung a large watercolour of a village in the shadow of a mountain. Another minute ticked by and Evander’s stomach rumbled again. Then, when he had nearly given up all hope, the man walked back through the door carrying a tray.

‘Here,’ he said as he placed the big bowl in front of Evander. ‘It’s chicken soup and I brought you some bread. Enjoy!’

‘Thank you,’ Evander answered without looking up. The soup was thick with vegetables and barley; the aromatic steam filled his nostrils and made his stomach roar in anticipation. He took up the spoon and dipped it into the liquid, pausing briefly to blow on it before he let the contents slide into his mouth. It was hot and almost burnt his tongue. Evander wasn’t sure if he had just sampled the best soup he had ever had or if it was a result of his hunger. Greedily, he took another spoonful, and then another.

He was halfway through his meal when he heard footsteps coming through the front door. He assumed that it would be Anthony, but as he raised his head to call out, his voice stopped in his throat. Two girls hurried into the room. Evander sat back in his chair and stared. The first girl was a pretty redhead but the second was breathtaking. It was her eyes that drew his attention first; even from halfway across the room he could see that they were blue. She had a beautiful face and there was a delicacy — or even a fragility — about her. Her dark hair fell in rippling waves almost to her waist. He wondered if it was as silky as it appeared and for a mad minute he had the urge to reach over and touch it. Evander’s eyes drifted over the girl’s body. Her dress was thin, as was her grey shawl but her beauty shone out like a beacon and Evander was captivated.

‘Uncle Hans, are you here?’ called the redhead as she passed Evander’s table.

The old man stepped from the kitchen and leaned against the door jam. ‘And where else would I be?’ he said with a widening smile. ‘Come, come sit down and I will get you some soup.’

The redhead glanced over her shoulder before grabbing the other girl’s hand. Evander watched as they sat down at the table with the blue cloth.

‘Thank you, Uncle. Madame Devoré insists that we prepare the costumes for tonight but Lisette has not eaten all day. So, I said we must come here first.’

‘You are ever wise, my little Sally. Lisette, you know you must eat. You work too hard,’ he said.

‘It is not work, Uncle. I love to dance,’ Lisette said to Hans’ retreating back.

‘That may be, but you are too thin. An autumn breeze could blow you away. You must eat so you have the strength to dance!’ Hans called out from the depths of the kitchen.

The girl, Lisette, glanced across the room, straight into Evander’s eyes. He held them, daring her to look away. A hint of a smile curved her lips and her cheeks flushed before her friend gave her a playful shove, causing her to turn her head.

Hans returned with their soup and the girls fell upon it. After a minute or two of silence they began to chatter again with Hans. Evander focused once more on his meal. He broke a crusty roll and smeared it with a little butter. Content to eavesdrop on the conversation, he took his time eating, now that his first wave of hunger had been sated.

‘Did you train with Madame Devoré today?’ Hans asked.