Page 56 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)
I N THE FORTNIGHT BEFORE the St. Merryn House ball, Daintry was very busy, for the Season was in full swing, and since she frequently had as many as four engagements in a single night, she soon began to feel as if she had no time whatever to think.
Penthorpe’s return and the resuming of her betrothal—though not worded in quite that manner, of course—had been announced in the London Gazette, and she had come to accept the fact that there was nothing she could do to avoid her fate.
She had approached St. Merryn only once to ask if he would consider releasing her from her word of honor, explaining that she had come to the melancholy conclusion that she was not cut out to be a proper wife to any man, let alone to one who could forget her very existence for months at a time.
Her father’s reaction was exactly what she had feared it would be.
“You gave me your word, girl, and not another one will I hear,” he had roared.
“This betrothal will end in marriage, and until it does, you will pretend to be delighted with it, for I’ll not have this family made the talk of London all for the whim of a capricious young chit. By God, I’m putting my foot down!”
The gossips were certainly out in full force, she knew, for not only was there Princess Charlotte’s new betrothal to discuss, as well as a host of the latest crim con stories but the Duchess of Argyll and her husband had come to town.
Daintry saw the duchess a week before her own ball, at Lady Cardigan’s great assembly, which she attended with members of her family, escorted by Penthorpe. The announcement of the duke and duchess’s arrival soon after their own caused a noticeable stir.
Watching the noble couple descend the broad marble steps into the ballroom, Lady Ophelia said, “Dash, what is Penelope Cardigan thinking of? There is sure to be a scene, for Anglesey and Wellington are both here tonight, and Anglesey won’t relish meeting his erstwhile wife when she has not only the higher rank of duchess but her adoring new husband by her side as well. ”
Daintry, watching now, as indeed everyone else was too, said, “There is Lady Jersey, ma’am, hurrying to meet them.”
“And Wellington yonder, looking as blue as a megrim,” Penthorpe said. He had dined in Berkeley Square with the family, as had the Seacourts, Lady Catherine Chauncey, and Lord Alvanley. Afterward, everyone except St. Merryn had journeyed together to Cardigan House to attend the assembly.
Daintry had managed to be polite to Geoffrey for Susan’s sake, but he seemed to have put the past out of his head, for he treated her just as he had before the horrid night at Seacourt Head, clearly assuming that she had forgiven him.
“The Argylls won’t stay,” Charles said. Turning to watch his wife perform the minuet with a dashing young blade who had rushed up to claim her hand the minute they had arrived, he added, “The rest of the females will make it a dashed sight too uncomfortable for her, even with Sally to give her a lead.”
He was proved right, for despite Lady Jersey’s display of family loyalty—the duchess being her husband’s sister—the rest of the company treated her grace as if she had been invisible, and the Duke and Duchess of Argyll stayed less than half an hour.
“It is too bad,” Daintry said with disgust when she saw that they had gone.
“Lord Uxbridge—that is, Anglesey—treated her with the most shameful contempt by seducing Charlotte Wellesley when he was still married, and yet there is Wellington, chatting with him as if they were the best of friends, when in fact Charlotte was his brother’s wife before Uxbridge seduced her! ”
“But they are the best of friends,” a familiar deep voice murmured behind her, “and since Ux—Anglesey is also a wounded hero who is much admired, you would do better not to speak of such things where you can so easily be overheard, you know.”
She whirled to find Deverill attired in a particularly well cut coat of dark blue superfine over skintight biscuit-colored breeches that set off his masculine attributes to perfection, looking amused rather than stern, but although it was the first time she had seen him since the attack on his life and her heart leapt at the sight of him, she said, “I don’t care if they do hear me.
She is the victim, as even the Scottish courts agreed, for they allowed her to divorce him, did they not?
Yet there he stands, pompous and self-assured, the victor of the night. ”
Lady Ophelia said, stifling a yawn, “But so it always is, my dear, that ’tis the woman who is blamed and punished.
Though she did sue him for divorce, she could only have done so in such an odd country as Scotland and will always be treated as an outcast in England; while, as you see, despite the fact that his misconduct resulted in a verdict against him for thousands of pounds and not one but two divorces, he can do as he pleases. ”
“Your aunt is right, you know,” Deverill said quietly. “A woman has certain social rights, but she must take good care when she asserts them that she does not draw too much attention, lest she cast herself quite beyond the pale.”
Seacourt said with a spark in his eyes, “Never expected to hear you preach moderation, Deverill. Turning over a new leaf?”
“But he’s right,” Penthorpe said. “Dash it all, the rules are clear, and it don’t do to be flouting them when the only result must be disaster. Oh, I say, Lady Susan, I believe that’s our dance they are striking up for.”
Daintry caught Geoffrey’s eye as Penthorpe slipped under his guard to whisk Susan away, and thought he looked angry and as if he meant to go after his wife, but before he could do so, Davina rejoined them and, ignoring the others, said with a flirtatious laugh, “Geoffrey, I do hope you have not bespoken a partner for this dance, for it is the most vexatious thing, but I have none. I know a proper lady must never ask a gentleman …” Allowing her words to trail into silence, she fluttered her lashes at him.
Seacourt’s flashing grin appeared, and he said, “You need certainly not ask, my dear. I would be most honored if you would accept my hand for this quadrille.”
“I like that,” Charles muttered as they went off together. “The wench ought to ask her own husband if she needs a partner, though if she does, it’s for the first time in her life.”
Daintry smiled at him. “You detest dancing the quadrille.”
“Who does not?” he demanded. “All that dashed capering about! It’s all of a piece, but I’m not going to watch her make sheep’s eyes at that damned Seacourt. I’m for the card room.”
Daintry, seeing her great-aunt turn to sit down beside Lady St. Merryn and Miss Davies, was about to follow her example when a firm hand stopped her.
“I hope you will take pity on an injured man,” Deverill said with a warm smile, “and walk with me to fetch some refreshment for these ladies. They all look as if they would enjoy something cool.”
“Oh, yes, please,” Lady St. Merryn said gratefully, fanning herself. “I do hope our ball is not so hot as this one is. I declare, I am well nigh to fainting from this dreadful heat.”
Lady Ophelia agreed. “A cup of punch would wake me up a bit,” she said frankly.
“Every year, I must be in London for a good six weeks before I become accustomed to the later hours and begin to sleep as well as I do in the country. Go along with him, Daintry, do, and bring us some biscuits with that punch.”
Allowing Deverill to draw her hand into the crook of his arm, Daintry looked up at him and saw that he looked rather pale.
“Are you fully recovered from your injuries?” she asked.
“I must tell you that I… I felt quite dreadfully responsible when I learned what had happened—for having sent you away as I did.”
“You need not have felt that way,” he said quietly.
“You were right to send me away. I should not have struck Seacourt.” He glanced down at her, and the sudden glow of warmth in his eyes made her heart beat so hard that she wondered they could not both hear it.
He said, “I am nearly my old self again, but I confess, I still get a trifle dizzy when I stand up too quickly.” Patting his waistcoat pocket, he added with a twinkle, “My servants do not agree that I should be out of my bed yet. I have discovered that two of them who delight in attempting to outdo each other in their service to me, have each bestowed upon me a packet of the headache powders the doctor left for me to take.”
“Goodness, ought you not to take them then?”
“On no account. I believe I’ve used up no more than two doses, in fact, for once I discovered that they knocked me out more quickly than a surfeit of brandy, I decided I should do better without them.
But my henchmen cannot be convinced of it, and if I were to throw the packets away, I believe they would think I had taken them, and continue to press more upon me.
I hope that if I ignore them, they will soon cease to be such gudgeons.
But tell me,” he added as they neared the refreshment room, “is Seacourt quite restored to the family fold? He seems none the worse for our little set-to, at all events.”
“No, it is the oddest thing, the way he seems always to assume he will always be forgiven, no matter what he does.”
“Then he was apologizing for his brutality that night,” he said with an arrested look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought it. But have you forgiven him? After what he must have done, I am not so sure I could be that generous.”
His words brought a flood of unwelcome memories, and before she could think or stop herself, she exclaimed in revulsion, “Neither can I, sir, I promise you. Geoffrey is horrid!”
Deverill stopped suddenly and pulled her aside, away from a stream of other guests bent on seeking refreshment. “What else has he done?” he demanded. “Come now, tell me at once.”