Dangerous Beauty Page 16

  Beneath the gown she wore no corset and her drawers and camisole were both made of the lightest French silk—virtually transparent and so light it felt like they were barely there.

  For a few wicked moments she had contemplated leaving them off altogether, but the maid who attended her was not Alice, the redheaded, dimpled young girl from Manchester, who Natasha could cow into obedience. She could not risk word of improper underwear reaching her mother and she needed the maid’s help to do up her dress. Besides, the idea of being completely bare beneath her dress was too daring to execute right now—merely contemplating it brought a blush to her cheeks.

  She prodded experimentally at her midriff. It felt strangely soft and pliable and she bent and touched her toes, marveling at the unaccustomed range of movement. She would have to be careful to maintain the very straight back of a lady, or the entire world would know of her corsetless state.

  She descended the stairs upon the appointed hour, moving sedately, thinking of Elisa’s elegant glide.

  Her father stood at the fireplace, holding a sherry glass and looked up as she entered the room.

  “My dear, you look simply lovely,” he said, with a paternal smile.

  “Thank you, Papa.” She rose to her toes and kissed his cheek and he gave a funny little “hurrumph” sound. But he looked absurdly pleased.

  Caroline, when she arrived, looked Natasha over, and raised an eyebrow. “No rouge, my dear?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Really, Mother, is that an appropriate subject to discuss in front of a gentleman?”

  It deflected Caroline. As she could find nothing else to criticize about Natasha’s appearance, she was forced to turn her attention elsewhere.

  After her parents partook of a small glass of sherry, which Natasha refused, the carriage was called for and they traveled the two miles to the Dulsenay’s large town home.

  They arrived at the same time as many other guests. Natasha kept her eyes lowered, but nevertheless managed to identify everyone who had not entered the house yet. Vaughn and Elisa were not among them. She had not expected Seth to attend. He was still persona non grata in London and no one knew the Wardells entertained him, or were helping him with his investigation.

  Perhaps it was just as well Seth was not here—Natasha did not know how well received Vaughn really was. If he tried to force Seth upon society, it might prove more than his sterling reputation could support and both the Wardells and Seth would be shunned. Besides, Elisa must surely still be abed.

  Natasha’s heart went out to her friend. She did not know how she could have survived such a blow, herself. Elisa’s courage was magnificent.

  At last they had all been received by Lord Dulsenay and moved into the long, cavernous drawing room for pre-dinner sherry.

  Natasha found an isolated chair in a corner made by the frame of a square arch. She accepted a lemonade, sipped the sugary concoction and hid her grimace as she looked around at the guests. A brandy would be most welcome right now. There was not a single person in the room under forty years of age and certainly no one that she knew well enough to be able to speak to them without a formal introduction, or at least someone to accompany her during the conversation.

  She was suddenly aware of the rules and moral expectations she had been flaunting so freely for more than a year. No wonder her parents had begun to look so harried and frustrated.

  It reminded her of something Vaughn had said to her and his meaning became dazzling clear. You are a young woman, Elisa—you do not have the power to live your own life without consequences. Not yet. You are dependent upon family for your support. It is easier for men.

  It was a bitter lesson, but Elisa had alleviated it a little with her own axiom. For women, appearance is everything. Very well, she would play the game Elisa’s way and see if it worked any better. Certainly, her open defiance had not served her well. Would this new strategy help her win Seth? Would Seth be able to clear his name?

  She started and nearly spilled her full glass of lemonade when she heard the nasally drawl of Sholto Piggot. She couldn’t see him yet, but his penetrating voice carried rather well.

  Natasha shrunk back in her chair, glad that she wore no corset and could bend her back a little to hide behind the edge of the archway that projected just here.

  She heard her mother’s voice—gay and trilling with laughter and it suddenly became very clear. She was the only unaccompanied maiden. Piggot was the only man here without a companion. Her heart sank. She had forgotten this potential complication in her life.

  Elisa’s voice whispered in her mind. “Courage, Natasha.” After all, Elisa had suffered through to emerge victorious and with Vaughn by her side. This little dinner party was a mere hiccup in comparison. But she would not sit idly by and let Sholto Piggot choose the ground for their confrontation.

  She put the glass of lemonade aside with a small touch of relief and stepped around the arch. Her mother and Piggot were standing by the fireplace, beneath the great crystal candelabra that hung from the ceiling there. Her mother always tended to seek the greatest light in order to highlight her pale hair.

  But the light did not flatter Piggot at all. He looked pinched and ill, with two hectic spots of color over his high cheekbones and a very red nose.

  Natasha took a deep breath and swept forward to greet him, a smile plastered on her face. Piggot straightened up and gave her a short bow. “Lady Natasha…you do honor me with your presence. How delightful to see you here.”

  As if it is such a great surprise! Natasha allowed him to kiss the back of her hand and tightly fisted the other against the need to wipe his moist imprint away. “Lord de Henscher. What a pleasure to see you once again,” she told him.

  Piggot’s eyeglass dropped as his eyes widened in genuine surprise and she hid her smile.

  “Lady Natasha, you look delectable this evening,” he said, his gaze shifting to the modest neckline of her gown. The conservative cut didn’t seem to deter his wandering eye. The man had a way of looking at her that made her feel like she wore nothing at all.

  She reached for a civil tone. “Thank you, my lord.”

  He smoothed a spindly finger over his thin moustache. “Please, my dear. Call me Sholto.”

  Natasha could smell the brandy on his breath. It seemed he had a fondness for drinking. He positively reeked of it.

  Her mother was beaming, her gaze tripping from Piggot to Natasha.

  And, like a thunderclap, it came to her. Her parents were going to force this alliance. It was marry now or be put on the shelf and her parents would never settle for a spinster daughter.

  Bile rose in her throat at the knowledge. Time had simply run out. They would marry her off one way or another…even to an effeminate, much older second son of a duke, than be saddled with her for the rest of their days.

  All at once, Natasha couldn’t think of a thing to say. What could she possibly say to such an odious man, when all she had ever been taught to say in such situations were meaningless little coquetries designed to flatter the man and draw his interest?

  But then, like a breeze across a summer lake, a strong emotion fanned through the room, spreading consternation, whispers and shock before it. Natasha sensed rather than saw the collective drawing of breath as every assembled dinner guest’s attention was drawn to the doorway of the drawing room.

  The butler stood there, waving a new guest into the room. Natasha could not see the guest because a portly earl stood in front of her. She could not crane her head to see—it was not ladylike. So she waited until the guest stepped into her view.

  Relief washed over her in waves. It was Vaughn. He was nodding, shaking hands with some of the men nearby him. Of course everyone knew him. Vaughn was well-liked amongst men and always had been.

  He lifted his hand, as if to indicate a companion and draw them forward at the same time and Natasha felt a touch of shock. Elisa had attended after all? But surely, it was much too soon for her to be about yet? Perh
aps that was why everyone was so shocked.

  Then Vaughn’s companion stepped into view, and Natasha’s heart lurched, even as icy shock gripped her. It was Seth. Dressed in utterly correct dinner attire, Seth was the well turned-out gentleman she had first met at the ball.

  After the first icy shock slithered through her system, it was chased by a hot gladness that fizzed through her system. She was so glad to see him! She wanted to run across the room and throw herself into his arms. Instead, she lowered her eyes, and fought to keep her face neutral.

  Appearance is everything. She realized that Piggot watched her closely. The sharp little eyes glittered with something she could only assume was a possessive pride.

  How she hated him! The acid emotion swept through her, shocking her with its strength. From her lowered eyes, she discreetly watched how the roomful of people reacted to Seth’s scandalous presence.

  The ripples of delicious shock and rumor were widening. Women were hiding their mouths behind fans as they leaned to each other and passed along the terrible news. Men were clearing their throats, staring hard at Seth. They were freely speaking about him—no fans necessary.

  It was a dangerous strategy Vaughn and Seth played. Vaughn was gambling his own reputation. He counted on the fact that they would not dishonor him by telling him his guest was not welcome. He was going to use his own position in society to ram Seth down their throats and make them accept him.

  But would they do it?

  Natasha held her breath, unable to tear her eyes away from the pair of handsome young gentlemen, for the next few moments would be the deciding ones.

  Vaughn spotted Natasha’s father and worked his way directly toward him.

  Natasha bit her lip. How brave Vaughn was! He intended to confront the man who would be most resistant to Seth’s presence.

  Her father’s face turned red as he realized that Vaughn sought him out. And even though the conversation in the room continued to buzz unabated, even though it appeared that everyone was having a jolly time talking in their little groups of two or three, Natasha knew these people of old. Just like her, they were watching Vaughn and Seth, missing nothing.

  They would take their cue from her father’s response to Vaughn. If he refused to shake Seth’s hand, if he refused to acknowledge him, then they would all reject him. They would all conform to each other, they would not dare risk the same banishment they doled out to anyone who was different from them.

  Vaughn reached her father and Natasha wished she was but a few paces closer so that she might hear what he said.

  Vaughn drew Seth to his side and introduced him to her father. Her father’s face grew even more red and there were white lines of fury etched along either side of his mouth. Natasha knew that he would not support this and that he was about to order Seth from the room—and the house—regardless of the fact that this was Lord Dulsenay’s home. Her father was angered beyond reason.

  Vaughn leaned a little closer to her father, still talking, a pleasant smile on his face. What was he saying? Her father, although he was listening to Vaughn, stared at Seth.

  Seth looked calm enough, but just like she, Seth would know that everything depended on what her father did next. Her father continued to stare and still Vaughn spoke.

  Finally, moving like a man with stiffened joints, her father lifted his hand and held it out to Seth. Seth took it, shook it and gave a small court bow—one of acknowledgement of a peer.

  Oh, but that would not be received well by her father! It didn’t matter that Seth was technically of higher rank. Her father would not tolerate Seth pointing out that he considered himself on equal footing.

  But Natasha knew instinctively why Seth did this. He must be accepted not just as Vaughn’s friend, but also as the heir of a peer of England in his own right.

  Her father gave a stiff nod back. Acceptance.

  They had done it. Seth could not be ordered from the room now unless he committed an act so indecent he sullied his name all over again.

  And her father hated it. She could see it on his face and it made her realize how cleverly Vaughn and Seth had picked their first opponent. Vaughn already knew her father would much rather hide unpleasant facts than deal with them, most especially in a public place. Several years ago, he had learned this weakness when he’d confronted her father with Elisa at his side. Vaughn had merely to mention the skeleton in the Winridge cupboard—her father’s bastard son, who remained anonymous even to this day—and her father had folded, defeated.

  Was Vaughn using the same tactic here? Was that what he had spoken of to her father before he’d taken Seth’s hand? A reminder that his own past was no more pristine than Seth’s? It hardly mattered for right now. They had won their victory—Seth was free to mix with the other guests and Vaughn was touring him around the room, introducing him.

  Natasha noticed he was quite properly introducing Seth to those of higher rank first. As there was at least one continental prince and two dukes, it would be a while before they reached the unaccompanied ladies and maidens.

  Nevertheless, Natasha found she was holding her breath and watching their slow progress around the room, impatiently waiting her turn.

  Her mother and Piggot were chatting quietly, their backs turned just a little towards the center of the room. Natasha knew her mother was in no hurry to be forced to greet Seth and would do nothing to encourage the meeting. The turned back was as much as she dared now that her husband had accepted Seth. And oh, how it must gall her!

  A muted gong sounded and the wigged butler at the door lifted his chin. “Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served.”

  Frustration bit at her. She would not get to “meet” Seth in public! Damn!

  Then she caught her mother’s glance, full of satisfaction and knew that she was thinking the same thing.

  Her mother slid her hand under Piggot’s elbow. “Lord de Henscher, would you do my daughter and me the honor of escorting us to dinner?”

  “I’d be delighted, Lady Munroe,” Sholto said, his voice high and tight, as if he were nervous.

  With a mental sigh, and a polite smile, Natasha trailed after her mother and Sholto into the dining room proper.

  Her heart fell even further when she saw that place cards had been laid. It was too much to hope the very staid Dulsenays would succumb to the new French custom of allowing guests to choose their own seating.

  Natasha found her place, next to a bent and bewhiskered lord, who was extremely hard of hearing and sniffed continuously. She slid her glance to the right, her heart already dropping. The discreet cream-colored place card confirmed what she had suspected.

  “Oh dear, what a delicious surprise!” Sholto exclaimed, a hand to his cheek as he peered down at the card with his name on it. He beamed at Natasha, and pushed the footman aside, who had been about to help her seat herself.

  Sholto slid the chair beneath her and clumsily caught the hem of her dress in the feet of the chair. She was forced to stand and untangle the snarl. This close to her, his cologne was strong enough to choke a horse. Even worse, beneath the cologne was an unpleasant aroma. It stole the breath from her lungs and made her eyes water.

  She gave him a polite smile and sat once again, her heart tripping along unhappily. As Sholto sat down, she glanced at Seth. She longed to speak to him. Her heart pounded and she reached for her glass with a trembling hand.

  She tore her gaze away from him, took a sip of the cool water and set it down. Her parents were watching her closely from their position further along the table—closer to the host, but not as close as Seth and Vaughn. He and Vaughn had been seated quite close to Lord Dulsenay himself—a mark of honor that would not be lost on anybody here.

  Natasha smiled innocently at her parents before turning to Piggot. “The weather is quite wonderful, do you not agree?” she asked. From the corner of her eye, she could see the tall, dark-haired man who sat to the right of the redheaded duchess who had spoken to him so intimately at the ball.
Her heart sank.

  “Yes, it is delightful,” Piggot responded to her question. “I was just asking your father if I could call on you tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to take a stroll about Hyde Park?”

  Such a clumsy change of subject! She hid her grimace. Of course, an engagement was always preceded by a courtship, even a clumsy one. It took every ounce of will not to look directly at Seth after her first searing glance. She knew her parents watched her, and Piggot was already suspicious.

  Nevertheless, Natasha was still aware of Seth sitting at the end of the long table. He already chatted with the guests seated around him. Although everyone here must surely be aware of his reputation, it did not seem to make them reticent about speaking to him.

  She realized that it was precisely because of his reputation that they would be most eager to speak to him. They would find it a novel opportunity to talk to someone who was considered “wicked.”

  Her stomach twisted a little tighter and she looked at the jellied appetizer placed in front of her and knew she would not eat a bite, despite the lack of a corset. She spent the entire meal, instead, responding to the odd polite comment from the men on either side of her.

  Sholto Piggot ate like a condemned man and she wondered if the tiny rumors she had heard about him were true. Was his legendary family fortune all spent? Whatever the reason for his gluttony, she was glad of it. It spared her the need to converse politely with him.

  Whenever she thought she could get away with it, she watched Seth. And throughout the meal, her puzzlement grew. Seth not once looked at her, not even a casual glance. He must surely have seen she was at the table, but he made no attempt to catch her eye or in any way communicate with her.

  She didn’t understand it at all. Even though her parents hated it, Seth was now nominally accepted by polite society…so why did he avoid her gaze? She was certain he was doing it deliberately—no man could sit through an entire meal and fail to glance even once at all the people at the table.