Desperate and Daring 01 - Desperate and Daring (9 page)

Lady Endervale outdid herself for the ball. Wreaths of evergreens adorned the walls and an impossible amount of candles were scattered throughout the ballroom. It was a cozy winter theme, but with so many candles burning, the doors to the garden were left open to keep the guests cool. Nobility near and far was in attendance, but its true purpose was to bring young ladies and gentlemen together in the interest of matrimony. Heather’s presence was superfluous. There were only four more days of this misery before either she was rescued by the duke or her family searched for a kind hearted acquaintance to harbor them.

The last place Heather wanted to be was in a ballroom, but nevertheless, she wore her best gown, an ivory slip with an ivory lace overlay that hugged her body under an apple green crepe dress split down the front. A lace sash tied under her bust to cinch the dresses together and was tied elaborately in the middle of her back. She wore her hair up in a simple twisted bun, letting a natural curl fall about each ear. She wore simple silk slippers of the same apple green.

She loved this dress. It usually made her feel vibrant and confident, but tonight, she wanted to blend into the walls and if at all possible, to disappear entirely, and retreat to her room. She looked down at her dance card. It was blank. She sighed and looked for her mother, hoping to find a seat among the dowagers so she could hide. She took two steps but then she was caught. Lucy, Anabelle, Hazel, and Dorothea stood in a semi-circle before her.

“Where do you think you are going?” Lucy said, arms folded across her chest.

“To sit with my mother,” Heather said defiantly.

“We won’t let you wilt against the wall. You deserve some enjoyment. Dance, be merry!” Anabelle scolded affectionately. The other girls nodded in agreement.

Heather hid her dance card in the folds of her dress. “I don’t wish to dance, truthfully.”

Hazel grabbed her wrist and lifted the card for all to see. “She is determined to not enjoy herself. You need our help, Heather.”

“It is pointless for any gentleman to dance with me,” Heather argued.

“Dancing is never pointless.” Hazel looped her arm through hers and Anabelle did the same on the other side.

Heather was caught. She was both grateful and annoyed.

Lucy headed them like a General going to war, and with unnatural skill, secured a full dance card for Heather.

“See? Men are blind fools. You have to stand before them and wave the card in front of their eyes. Otherwise, they have no idea what they should be doing.”

“I’m strangely impressed with your methods of manipulation.” Heather laughed.

“It helps to have a brother. I’ve seen the simple inner workings of the male mind.”

“God help your future husband,” Dorothea mumbled.

“My father assures me I will be a trial for him, but he says it quite lovingly.” Lucy beamed. “Now, shall we find some refreshment before the dancing begins?”

The girls nodded and moved in the direction of the refreshment parlor. It was slow going now that the room had filled to capacity. Heather looked down at her dance card. Most of the gentlemen were innocuous acquaintances, harmless really, but one gave her pause. He had eagerly added his name, a spark of mischief in his eyes. Lord Draven was lately behaving in a very puzzling manner towards her, and she had yet to understand why.

Heather was not looking forward to it.

The evening carried on. Heather was thankful for the effort extended by her dear friends, and was actually beginning to enjoy herself. Every time her thoughts strayed to those kind, blue eyes, and warm smile, she let herself be distracted once again by the gentleman she was dancing with, or the witty musings of the gentlemen that followed Lucy and Anabelle like loyal troops. The conversation was boisterous. Champagne flowed freely and fed the gaiety. She could smile without effort now, the light in her eyes sparkling with genuine amusement. It helped that the evening was passing quickly.

*

Fallon retired to his borrowed Study with a darkness inside he hadn’t felt since he was a small boy. He hated the sight of Heather in another man’s arms. Innocent though the dancing was, jealousy boiled in him like hot tar. He sought refuge in the Study and paced before the fire. It was eating at his insides since the moment she had left the music room. He hadn’t realized the gravity of what he’d done or the depth of turmoil he would cause for her and himself. What had he been thinking? He was mad to do it, to even think to do it. But it was too late. He was smitten. He was drugged by the essence of her. What was he going to do? He sat in a chair before the fire, bent over his knees, head in his hands, and just stared at the floor. He was a fool to think there would be any way out of this that wouldn’t cause a bloody mess, either emotionally or publicly.

He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, but he began to hear the strains of music once more, and his neck was stiff. He stood drearily and prepared to commence his watch over Heather. It was quite possibly all he would ever have of her again. He returned to his perch, his expression brooding, his eyes red from strain. He looked down on the guests with a bitter smirk. He wasn’t good enough to be among them, his birth being of lower status in their eyes, but that hadn’t stopped Heather, the only jewel among them, from seeing him, from wanting him the way he wanted her. That made him feel like a king.

His breath caught when he saw her again. Lord Rigsby was escorting her to the dance floor. Rigsby was safe, Rigsby was a good chap. Heather floated through the steps of the cotillion like a butterfly moving from flower to flower. Fallon took great enjoyment in watching her from the shadow of a pillar, hidden mostly from view unless one cared to look diligently. He watched her entire set with Rigsby and then she moved on to her circle of friends. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, her smile light. He was glad she was enjoying herself despite everything. A new set would soon begin. He watched her sip greedily from a glass of lemonade and smiled. The smile turned to a snarl as a gentleman took her glass and pressed a flute of champagne into her hand. She reluctantly took it, and the gentleman turned enough so Fallon could identify his profile. Lord Draven. What the devil was that bounder up to? He could tell by Heather’s rigid posture that she was not pleased by his presence.

Fallon cursed. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do. A new dance set was beginning, and by the looks of it, Heather was partnered with Draven. Fallon cursed again and gripped the railing with white knuckles. It was innocent enough. Draven led her to the floor quite properly, smiling arrogantly—in Fallon’s opinion, and amused with the sound of his own voice. Fallon gritted his teeth as it became apparent that this dance was to be a waltz. The dancers took their places and then began to move with the music. Fallon pushed away from the bannister in agitation. He considered returning to the Study, or even his room to get drunk, but the drive to watch over her was too strong.

*

Heather smiled as politely as she could as Lord Draven made an attempt at conversation. She was grateful he was a very good dancer, but that was the only kind thought she had about him. He dispensed with the pleasantries effortlessly, and then his gaze sharpened as it focused on her.

“Miss Everly, how do you find his graces’ steward?”

Heather gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to talk about Fallon, not with him, not with anyone. She took a moment to collect herself. “I’ve little experience judging the capabilities of stewards, Lord Draven. I suppose he is competent.”

Heather noticed his eyes narrowed just the tiniest bit, almost as if he were trying to see through her words. Her pulse began to beat quick and heavily through her temples. It was a nauseating feeling.

“Competent, you say?” He tilted his head to the side. “You are aware that if you marry the duke, he will be an employee of yours as well as the dukes. Do you plan to keep him on?”

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t. I have found no fault with his doings. It would be entirely up to the duke.”

“Are you saying you would tell the duke about your association with Mr. Calder? I commend your honesty, Miss Everly, though it does not seem wise.”

Heather’s heart skipped a beat. She would have stumbled, but Lord Draven turned her smartly and they carried on without misstep.

“I beg your pardon?” Heather asked breathlessly.

“Don’t be daft. You know of what I speak, and I should warn you that if I have noticed, others most certainly have. So what will you do? It will titillate the Ton, I assure you, but you won’t be the first matron to carry on with a handsome member of her employ. If I could give you one piece of advice,” he leaned close, his lips almost touching her ear, “don’t tell the duke. He likely isn’t capable of siring children anymore and would be grateful for a strong heir, blood or not.”

All the air rushed from Heather’s lungs in a whoosh. She would have pushed away from him, but he was the only thing keeping her standing. Her eyes snapped to his with disgust and fury.

“How dare you say such a thing to me? Have you no conscience?”

“I do, but I’ve long ago stopped listening. Life is more entertaining that way.”

“And are you amused by my life, Lord Draven?”

“Just barely, Miss Everly.”

Heather stopped in her tracks and slipped out of his arms. She spun away from him and barreled into the crowd of guests. There were instant gasps and murmurs, word of the incident would spread quickly through the room. Heather didn’t care. She saw her closest exit and walked as fast as she could towards the door at the side of the ballroom. She heard someone call her name, but she did not look. Tears sparkled in her eyes, and she looked up, praying they would not fall here, in sight of everyone. Something caught her eye.

There, at the balcony beside a pillar, she saw him. Everything in her body wanted to reach for him at that moment. She tore her eyes away and ran to the door, ripping it open and slipping though. There was darkness on the other side. She held herself against the door as tears fell, and she blinked until she could see. Weak light filtered through the row of windows lining the hall. It was significantly cooler here than in the ballroom. Heather took off down the hall at a run. She escaped through another door, closing it behind her. She was in a larger hall with rooms leading off it. She heard footsteps coming down the stairs, the back stairs it seemed, and to her right were a pair of glass doors. She paused before the wavy glass. The room was filled with moonlight and plants. The Conservatory. She entered and waded into the fragrant jungle of potted trees. She heard the conservatory door open and close again and turned. She could barely see him in the light, but she knew it was him with everything in her heart.

He moved towards her and she stepped into the light. “What is wrong?”

“Everything,” she said thickly. “Everything that could go wrong is presently happening. I’ve ruined my family. I’ve destroyed my sister’s chances of having any kind of future, all because I couldn’t deny myself.”

Fallon stepped closer to her and pulled her against him. She tucked her head into his shoulder and wept. He slowly rubbed her back and didn’t say a word. He didn’t know what he could say. Everything that came to mind would only make things worse, all except, “I’m sorry, Heather.”

*

Draven paused before the door when he heard the thundering footsteps on the other side. He heard the click of a door open and close. Just as he opened the door, the door behind him leading to the ballroom opened. There was a flash of light and then darkness again. Standing there in the darkness and faint moonlight was an angel. She stalked forward vengefully, her virginal white dress snapping at her ankles with her strides. Draven watched her approached, half amused, and half aroused.

The angel stopped before him, and he could feel her glare. “Why, Lady Anabelle,” he purred, “have you changed your mind about that kiss?”

“Where is Heather? I saw you follow her in here and she looked very upset. It’s easy to discern that you did and or said something very distasteful while dancing.”

“You know me so well.” He did his best to look abashed.

She looked down at his hand on the doorknob. “Move aside so I may find her. I assure you, you are the last person she wants to see.”

“I heartily agree, but I dare say you are not first on her list at present either.”

She grabbed his hand on the doorknob and twisted. She pushed passed him as the door opened.

Draven nearly groaned and grabbed her as she did so because her breast had pressed against his arm in a tantalizing fashion. He was certain it was not on purpose. He quickly followed her into the hall, knowing with certainty that if found, Miss Everly would not be alone. He had known Mr. Calder had watched her all night from the gallery above the ballroom.

Anabelle looked around in confusion at the many doors leading off the hall. Draven, already familiar with this part of the house, immediately caught sight of the embracing shadows in the conservatory.

“This way.” He tugged her into one of the other rooms.

“Wha—unhand me, you oaf!” Anabelle shook off his grip. It was almost completely dark in the room. She turned as he walked past her and closed the door. She heard the click of the lock.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“Protecting your virtue.”

“By locking me in a room with you? Hardly. I need to find Heather,” she declared as she met him at the door and tried to peel his fingers from the handle.