Page 4 of Rise of the Gods: Vardor’s Destiny (Time for Monsters)

M y dress was a dream of cream and gold with a plunging neckline that exposed much of my swelling breasts. The delicate lacy border only emphasized the neckline instead of, as I had originally hoped, hiding some of it. The same lace had been added to the sleeves that reached the middle of my lower arms and tickled my skin.

The bodice was tightly fitted over the corset that had needed two maids to adjust, making me feel like I was suffocating. Cumbersome panniers made my hips appear flared, accentuating my now tiny-looking waist.

Every discomfort became insignificant the moment I looked into the mirror. I had never looked more beautiful. I even liked my hair, as one of the maids had curled it beautifully at my back and the sides of my face, holding most of it back with an intricate bun. The lace contrasted nicely with the black, a color I had always hated. Even now, when it looked the best it ever had, I eyed one of the maids’ blonde curls enviously.

What would the Earl say when he saw me?

I tried hard to look at myself objectively, but despite my expansive, indulgent wardrobe, this dress was beyond compare and all I could see. Cream and gold should have made my skin even paler, but it didn't. Instead, it gave it a slight pink hue that gleamed in the gaslight.

"What do you think?" I asked Maude and Sophie, the maids.

"Oh mistress, you look so beautiful," Sophie's fingers brushed over the muslin material of my skirt. "The Earl will surely swoon."

"You look like a queen, mistress," Maude added.

Both women were about the same age as me; to my twenty-two, Maude was three years older and Sophie one year younger. Both of them had served me since I was sixteen, and I knew they hoped I would keep them as my ladies' maids after my wedding. As much as I had grown fond of them, I strongly doubted that would be the case. I might still be learning the responsibilities of a countess, and my father might have handpicked these two, but they weren't prepared for this responsibility. I hadn't told them yet, though. I was still contemplating keeping them on despite how ill-fitted they would be, because I knew, no matter what, they would stay loyal to me . And that, I was sure, would be a valuable asset in my new position.

Oh, decisions, decisions, decisions—so many to be made. They were starting to give me a headache.

Absentmindedly, I twisted my new ring on my finger. The one I had accidentally taken from the sarcophagus a couple of nights ago. I hadn't meant to take it, but when I discovered it in my pocket the next day, I couldn't resist wearing it. It fit perfectly on my middle finger, and the strange black pearl emitted a soothing sensation.

I had studied it a little bit closer in the morning light and found that both the inside and the outside of the ring were engraved with symbols I wish I could decipher. Unfortunately, I never got another chance to go back since that first night, and movers came today and took the sarcophagus to Piccadilly where the Great Belzoni would do his magic. A show I was fully committed to attend, hoping I could talk my fiancée into taking me.

Fiancée . I mused. I hadn't even met him yet.

"Mistress, a carriage is pulling up," breathlessly called Peter, the stableboy whom I had shanghaied into holding watch, as he raced into the room.

"Peter!" Maude scolded, scoffing his ear. "You can't barge into the Mistress' room like this."

"I'm sorry." He wailed.

"It's alright, Maude. I told him to." I handed the boy a penny for his efforts and the ear-scoffing he had suffered on my accord, then I took a deep breath— or attempted to, the corset was so tight, it made it nearly impossible. I smoothed my skirt, twirled my ring, and nodded at Maude and Sophie that I was ready. They scurried to adjust my dress's short train, and with my head held up high, I descended the stairs in perfect timing with Eric, the butler, who opened the door before the Earl could even knock.

His annoyed countenance changed when he spied me coming down the stairs. His eyes widened in appreciation just as I had hoped they would. I forced myself to keep my shoulders straight—it was nearly impossible not to, the corset made sure of it—and my head held up high. One hand glid over the banister to keep me anchored as to not fall down the stairs, which would have been inexcusable right then.

"Mistress Wellington?" The Earl stepped forward, lifting his hand in expectancy of me making it the last couple of steps down successfully.

"My Lord Ashford." Elegantly, I managed the last step, smoothed my hand from the banister into the Earl's, and fell into a curtsey just like Miss Prudence had taught me over the last few days. Suddenly, I was eternally grateful for her guidance.

"Thomas, please. We are engaged," he offered, bending over to kiss my hand.

"Thomas." I suppressed a giggle as his lips pressed against my skin. He was clean-shaven and smelled like he had just taken a bath.

He was taller than me but of slim build—I found large men intimidating. He was dressed impeccably, befitting his status.

His blonde hair was kept short and neatly brushed back. Small ends curled at the back of his neck above his collar. His sideburns were thick and fashionable, and his light blue eyes shone with an above average intelligence. Yes, I thought, for a husband, I could have done a lot worse than him, and that didn't even include the title he brought with him.

"May I call you Roweena?" He asked, ever so slowly letting go of my hand.

My heart beat a little faster as I nodded my consent, keeping my eyes lowered. I didn't want him to think I was too forward.

"Shall we?" He offered me his angled elbow, and I lightly put my hand on it. His eyes fell on my ring and lingered, but he didn't say anything until we sat in his luxurious carriage.

"That is an interesting piece of jewelry, Roweena," he observed.

Reluctantly, I moved the ring off my finger, feeling strangely bereft after doing so, and handed it to him for closer examination.

"Is this Egyptian?" He tilted the piece of jewelry this way and that to catch a faint glow of light on it.

"It is," I confirmed, then lied. "I bought it from a jeweler here in London. He has many exclusive, ancient pieces for sale." Well, kind of lied. I had bought jewelry from Aman before, just not this particular object.

Thomas seemed as reluctant to return it to me as I had been to hand it to him. My finger seemed to sigh when I slipped it back in place.

"I would very much like to visit that jeweler," Thomas said.

"Are you interested in Egyptian artifacts?" Did I dare hope? My heart did, as it sped up a little more.

"Anything ancient, yes, but particularly anything Egyptian." He admitted. "I might bore you with details if you encourage me too much."

I smiled, "You would never bore me with that. Egypt has been fascinating to me since I was a little girl."

"Is that so?" he looked interested, but there was a gleam in his eyes I didn't quite like. It reminded me of... something. A cold draft moved through the carriage, and a shiver ran down my spine.

I folded my hands in my lap and looked down. I couldn't explain what had just happened, but I needed to get over it quickly. Things had gone so well so far, and I didn't want to spoil it.

I pulled up my courage and said, "You might think me forward, but there is a mummy unwrapping event tomorrow at Piccadilly, the Great Belzoni?—"

"Roweena?" I liked the way he called my name, but I worried I had been too forward and he would chastise me.

"Yes?" I still didn't look up.

There was a chuckle in his voice when he asked, "Would you like to accompany me tomorrow to a mummy unwrapping event at Piccadilly? I heard the Great Belzoni is personally doing the honors."

I couldn't help it. I looked up and smiled. "I would love to."

"Can I see your dance card?" he suddenly inquired, right before the carriage slowed down, indicating we had reached Carlton House—where the ball was being held—and our carriage was in queue with others, waiting to enter the royal house.

I opened my small satchel and handed him my dance card. In broad strokes, he filled the entire list with his name before he handed it back to me.

"Just so that there aren't any misunderstandings," he winked, and my heart somersaulted.

I would have probably read so much more into this small exchange, but right then the carriage door opened, and I received my first glimpse of Carlton House. Gaslights and torches lit the front courtyard and house . It didn't look like a house at all, though. It looked like an ancient Roman palace. All the windows were alight from the inside, making it look even more spectacular.

But that was nothing compared to the inside, where I simply couldn't stop myself from staring. Green Roman pillars reached from the floor to the high-up vaulted ceiling, and a spiraling, two-sided stairway led up and up from there. I craned my neck when we started ascending the set to the right for no reason other than the left seemed more crowded. More stories lay above us, all accessible through a winding stairwell that threatened to make me dizzy.

"Is everything alright, Roweena?" Thomas' voice brought me back and reminded me that I was acting like a country bumpkin, and suddenly I felt like one too.

I might be wearing the most beautiful, expensive dress I had ever possessed, but so were all the other ladies around me, who I now noticed were looking at me like I did at the beggars in the street. I swallowed and regained my composure.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not," he hissed quietly, and I bit my lip.

His voice rose in greeting, "Ah, the Duchess of Southerland, how are you faring tonight? You look ravishing."

The Duchess of Southerland appeared to be around my age, twenty-two. Her smile didn't hide the slight sneer in the curve of her lips. Assessing me from head to toe as if she already knew who I was and that I had no business being here.

"The Earl of Dunmere," she held out her hand. "It's so nice to see you again, and this must be your new fiancée." She nodded at me, while Thomas bent and kissed her hand.

Just like Prudence taught me, I made a curtsey and learned that making a curtsey in front of Prudence differed greatly from making one to a Duchess. "Your grace, how do you do?" I was proud that my voice didn't waver.

"My fiancée, Mistress Roweena of Wellington." Thomas introduced. "Roweena, this is Harriet, the Duchess of Southerland.

I had never been happier that my mother's status had allowed my father to add of to our name. Still, the sneer around the Duchess' lips deepened.

"Very nice to meet you. You caught yourself quite the fish, Mistress." Harriet's voice was icy.

"I'm not sure I like to be called a fish," Thomas protested, offering a wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes to deflect from Harriet's dismissive tone toward me.

"Ah, don't be sensitive." Harriet slapped her folding fan against Thomas' arm. "I hope you will have a lovely evening." She nodded at us before rushing off to the right, calling, "Wellesley! Wait up."

Thomas sent me a smile as he pulled me forward, probably meant to be encouraging, but to me it only said, I told you so . You don't belong .

We entered a lavishly decorated and lit ballroom. Everything inside the palace screamed Roman Empire, from the green polished pillars with gold accents to the lavishly red mosaic on the floor.

Chairs stood around round tables to the side of one wall, another was made up of open balcony doors, and a third was occupied by a long table filled with refreshments. A small orchestra occupied a podium in the corner, quietly playing soothing tunes.

The entire area was filled with talking, laughing people. So many people. The cream de la cream of English nobility. Extravagantly dressed in all colors of the rainbow, with expensive jewelry glittering under a myriad of lit candles.

My heart turned into a butterfly as its chambers beat out of sync, making me dizzy for a moment. My father had completely overstepped himself this time. I didn't belong here. There was no way I ever would. High breeding, manners, and poise screamed from every person. I had more in common with the man holding up a tray filled with champagne glasses than the woman he was offering it to, who didn't even acknowledge him when she took a glass.

Sweat beads ran down my back despite the slight chill in the large room from the open doors. Every instinct inside me told me to flee. To run and never to look back. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, and I might have even allowed them to fall, had not a deep voice made Thomas turn, taking me with him since I was still holding on to his elbow.

"Thomas, you scoundrel, where have you been, and who is that beauty by your side?" asked a middle-aged man with a jovial grin as he approached us.

"Don't let him confuse you. If anybody is a scoundrel, it's him," Thomas said with a wide, open grin. "Henry."

"How have you been," Henry asked him, pounding Thomas on the back. "I heard you got engaged." His eyes roamed me up and down, lingered too long on my deep-cut neckline, and made me blush. "I sincerely hope this isn't her, because I might have to call you out on a duel for her hand," Henry's hand moved up and mine automatically forward, so he could kiss it. My stomach fluttered, and my self-confidence returned at his obvious flattery.

"Henry, may I introduce Mistress Roweena of Wellington, my fiancée. Roweena, this loud jackanapes is my dear friend, and if he doesn't make me kill him in a duel, best man, Henry Paget, the Marquess of Anglesey."

"Enchante mademoiselle," Henry kept lingering over my hand until Thomas cleared his throat.

"I'm afraid Henry spent too much time in France," he explained to me.

"It's very nice to meet you, your... Grace?" I faltered, unable to remember the title for a marquess.

Henry chuckled. "You flatter me, my dear. Unfortunately, I'm not your Grace, at least not yet," he winked, "but that might change if a certain Duchess..." He looked around.

"You'll never win the Duchess of Bedford, old boy," Thomas smirked.

"Ah, we shall see. She seems very fond of my adventures."

Still a little rattled from my faux pas—The Most Honorable, I finally remembered, too late, how a marquess should be addressed—but the banter between the two men was enough to ease my embarrassment. Enough to pick up on his words, "Adventures?"

"Oh dear, please don't encourage him," Thomas groaned good naturedly.

"I will be delighted to fill you in, Mistress." Henry held out his elbow, and after I sent a questioning glance at Thomas and received an answering nod, I put my hand on it and allowed Henry to lead me to a table while informing me that he had been at Waterloo when Napoleon was defeated.

"Quite the champ, that man," Henry stated.

I had been fascinated with Napoleon ever since I heard about his visit to Egypt; having something in common with a man like him felt special.

"Not really a champ, he got defeated," Thomas grumbled, disgruntled. I understood his position. Because of Napoleon's defeat, he had lost all his holdings in France. If Napoleon had been victorious, then Thomas wouldn't be forced to marry a country bumpkin like me. Life was very mysterious sometimes.

The dancing began, and true to his word, Thomas danced every single one with me. He was a very good dancer too, and I was glad Helen had insisted on dance lessons for me since I was little. The Quadrille was sometimes still a little challenging for me, but with Thomas at my side, I had no problems keeping up.

Suddenly, the music changed to a new kind of dance, and my face heated when the orchestra started the first tunes of a waltz. Unaffected, several couples began to sway arm in arm to the music. Thomas held out his hand, tilting his head in question. Secretly I had talked my dance master into teaching me the scandalous dance, but I had never thought I would perform it in public. Thomas' smile was so nice that I forgot my misgivings and held out my hand. He took it and pulled me close. Closer than I had ever been to a man. I arched my back like Meister Karl had taught me, very aware of Thomas' hand around my waist. Heat radiated from it, spreading through my entire body. Thomas swirled me around and around the room, making me feel lighter on my feet than I ever had before. Soon my smile was so wide, it hurt my jaw, but I couldn't stop. This was the most amazing dance of my life, and I hoped it would go on forever.

But like everything else, it did come to an end, and Thomas led me back to our table, where Henry was in deep conversation with a lady he then led to the dance floor.

"Would you like some refreshments?" Thomas inquired as he pulled the chair out for me, and I already bemoaned the loss of his hand on the small of my back. It had felt so good.

"Yes, please," I nodded.

My tight corset made it impossible to take any deep breaths, and it took forever until my rapidly beating heart slowed down.

"Outrageous," I heard a woman's tittering voice as two of them walked by. Using their fans, they hid most of their faces behind them, but their eyes bored into me, making it clear who they were talking about.

I recognized the Duchess of Southerland as one of them, and hurt pierced my heart.

"And that dress," Harriet giggled.

What's wrong with my dress ? The dress I had been so proud of. Compared to the others and Harriet's, it wasn't as special as I had thought it, but it still fit perfectly fine with the rest of them.

"Poor Thomas," the other lady twittered, then they were gone and I didn't hear what else they had to say. But now I was becoming aware of other ladies staring at me over the rim of their hand fans. Disapproving eyes were on me, reigniting the burning in my eyes from earlier.

Would this be how I would live the rest of my life? I wondered. An outcast? Someone who didn't fit in?

I wanted to melt into my misery like a piece of ice and become a puddle on the ground that could dissolve. But then something changed inside of me. Something fundamental. What right did these women have to judge me? So what if I wasn't born a countess or duchess, or even a lady? Due to circumstances beyond my control, I had been thrust here, and I would be damned if I allowed them to ruin the rest of my life because of it. I lifted my chin, stretched my neck, and began meeting eyes straight on with an unspoken challenge in them.

Soon, most of them looked away, and one lady with graying hair lowered her fan and winked at me. Winked. A wide smile on her lips, she even gave me a slight nod.

"There you are," Thomas put a small plate filled with delicatessen and a glass of champagne before me.

"Thank you." My words were heartfelt; I just wasn't sure what I was more thankful for, his presence or the refreshments.

"My pleasure," he pulled out the chair next to me, but before he could sit, another gentleman appeared and pulled him into a conversation. I nibbled on the hors d'oeuvres Thomas had put in front of me and kept up my vigil of challenging anybody who looked at me sideways.

Another waltz began, and with a wide grin, Thomas pulled me up to dance again. Afterward, I excused myself to go in search of a privy, which I was sure a sophisticated house like Carlton House would offer.

After finding one and doing my business, I returned to our table, where Thomas and Henry were in the middle of a deep discussion. They hadn't noticed me returning yet, and I tried to keep my distance since it looked like they were in a serious conversation.

I pretended to be fussing with my satchel to buy them some time, but when I heard my name, my ears perked up. I wasn't one to eavesdrop, but my curiosity won out, and soon my blood ran ice cold.

Henry leaned forward, "Please tell me you're not seriously going to put this enchanting creature into an asylum?"

Thomas ran his hand through his hair and didn't look happy. "She is enchanting, isn't she?"

"Damn right she is," Henry nodded. "And beautiful to boot."

Thomas shook his head, "She is that. But how can I sire heirs with a nobody like her, Henry? How can I allow my sons' blood to be diluted by a pleb like her? My ancestors will curse me."

Henry raised his glass and drank deeply, "I feel for you champ, I truly do. A woman like her would make a wonderful mistress..." he blew out some air, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, not a wife," Thomas agreed. "Not to mention, what kind of example would I be setting, allowing any upstart to think they could buy their way into our class?" Thomas drained his glass. "No, I already made arrangements with St. George's Fields. A few months after we are wed, I will have her moved there, and in a year or two, our marriage annulled. It has to be that way."

Henry emptied his glass, and all color drained from my face at hearing my fate. St. George's Fields was a place for the mentally deranged. It was located in Southwark. I had been there once because Abigail, my best friend, had begged me to accompany her. She went to see her brother, who was confined there after having lost his mind after Waterloo. I didn't think I would ever forget the screams of the people inside. Or the smells. And Thomas wanted to put me there?

Small tremors raked my body from suppressed fury and fear as I slowly walked backward, making sure nobody noticed me. This wasn't good. I needed a plan. I doubted my father would give my fate a second thought. Even if I confided in him, he would still force me to go through with the marriage. It would change his plans to some degree, but in the end, he would still have a son-in-law who was an earl, no matter if I was in a mental hospital or not. Even annulling our marriage wouldn't affect my father that much. He would still use the Earl's name to attract customers. Not the way he had envisioned, but enough for his greedy mind to go through with it.

I was such a fool. For a moment or two tonight, I thought Thomas and I could make this work. That we could be... a real married couple. I would not make that mistake again.

Holding my head up high, I walked back to the table, making plenty of noise so that the two men stopped their conversation and rose when they saw me approach.

"Is everything alright, Roweena?" Thomas inquired.

"I feel a little faint," I admitted, supported by what I was sure was my white as snow pallor, and it wasn’t even a lie. "Maybe I had a little too much champagne." I tried to laugh it off, but failed. My nerves were rattled, and I had never tried my hand at acting before. I was sure I was doing a poor job.

Or not, because my act was convincing enough for Thomas to take me home at once.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your evening," I apologized in the carriage.

"No worries, it was getting late anyway. For what it's worth, I had a very nice evening with you."

"So did I," I smiled at him, glad that my acting skills were improving. Now I just needed to figure out if I had a skill for intrigue, because if I didn't want to end up at St. George's Fields, I needed a good plan, quickly.