Page 2 of The Cornish Bride (The Cornish Ladies #2)
C aptain Featherstone held out a gloved hand to Ysella, and she slipped her own into it, feeling the warmth of his body through the two thin layers of fabric. Her gut twisted as the idea of touching skin to skin came to her, and the hot color in her cheeks did nothing to dissipate. “Thank you, Captain Featherstone,” she managed to articulate, as he led her out onto the dance floor.
A good score of couples were already out there, ready for the next dance, but plenty of room remained. As the musicians struck up their lively music again, Captain Featherstone led her to join a group of three other couples, two of whose number he appeared to know—both young gentlemen in similar regimentals to his who seemed pleased to see him.
“Featherstone, damn me if you haven’t cornered the prettiest girl in the room again.”
“Why do you have all the luck?”
Were they talking about her? Ysella kept her eyes down, overcome by unaccustomed shyness. Not at all like her.
She and the captain took their places as the third couple making the square for the cotillion, with the captain to Ysella’s left. The first bars of the change were played and all eight dancers joined hands and started to skip to the right. Ysella found herself holding hands with the captain, a fact unlikely to aid her equilibrium. Soon the couples were dancing the figures, their feet performing the elegant skipping steps Ysella had learned as a young girl and so recently taught to Morvoren. No time to exchange conversation with the captain, even if she could think of anything to say.
However, she forgot about the disturbing touch of the captain’s warm hands as she settled into enjoying the dance, until, that was, the next figure involved him putting his arm across her back and holding her disquietingly close. More heat flushed through her body and she quite forgot her steps, stumbling like a beginner. His hold on her tightened and, so close were they, she felt the chuckle that ran through his body against her own. What a delightful but disturbing sensation. She was going to need her fan.
“Miss Carlyon, you need not worry for I have you safe.” The first words he’d spoken since they took to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” Ysella managed, flustered by the touch of his silk coat along the exposed skin of her shoulders. “I’m not usually so flat-footed. Only this is the first proper ball I’ve been to since I came out.” She peeped up at him. “I’ve been to a few smaller dances, and to soirées and routs, but not to a ball as big as this one.”
He smiled down at her. “I do seem to have this effect upon young ladies, although I can’t for the life of me see why. I find myself quite unnerved to be dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room, just as Fotheringay said.”
More confident now, and emboldened by his display of fellow feeling and flattery, to which, of course, she was susceptible, Ysella dimpled up at him. “Really? Why, Captain Featherstone, I believe you are being too modest.” Best to ignore the flattery, as what was she supposed to say to that? She didn’t want to be like those awful simpering girls she’d seen when she came in. Perish the thought that she should simper, something she’d always scorned. Or hide behind a fan.
His laugh rumbled again, and they separated while the other pair of couples danced. When they came back together again, he pulled her in yet a little tighter. “You must be aware of the effect you yourself have on a gentleman’s heart? This gentleman’s heart in particular. I find you mesmerizing.”
This was just like one of the books she’d read and that Mama would have confiscated had she known. A fairytale story of a handsome young man smitten at first sight by his lady love. Did fairy stories really come true like this? The sensation of having gone one up on dowdy Charlotte assailed Ysella, and she had the grace to feel a hint of guilt, due, no doubt, to their newfound truce.
It was their turn to dance again. Ysella remembered to skip correctly this time. How awful would it be if she were to trample on his foot as she’d done so many times when practicing with Sam, back home at Ormonde? She’d never forgive herself. Sam had always claimed not to have minded, and Ysella had on occasion done it on purpose to see how far she could goad him. It had been impossible, and Sam had merely smiled and bowed to her, the epitome of politesse, even though he was only the land agent.
Over by the open French doors, Charlotte was standing, watching her beside Mama and Cousin Marianne, who both held small glass cups of lemonade. For some reason all three of them had forbidding expressions on their faces.
“I’ve danced with so few young men,” Ysella said, determined to ignore her parent’s apparent approbation, secure in the knowledge that her mother could hardly step onto the dance floor and prise her from the captain’s grip. “I have no way of knowing what effect I might be having.”
The captain swung her around as required by the dance, twirling her so her skirts, of creamy damask, spun out around her. “Then I shall tell you.” He twirled her again, then caught her as they skipped in time with the other couples. “From the moment I spied you across the ballroom, you set my heart pounding with your beauty. And when I learned you were my dear friend Fitz’s cousin, I had to secure an introduction and a dance with you.” He smiled a seductive smile, his eyes full of something Ysella had never seen before and which she suspected might be improper. “You are the belle of the ball, Miss Carlyon, if not of the season.”
A warm glow encompassed Ysella’s heart, thoughts of his impropriety flown. He thought her beautiful. Not that she didn’t already know she was pretty, for she closely resembled Mama and everyone called her a beauty. But… to have the most handsome man at the ball, who must be desired by all the young ladies present, declare her to be the belle of the ball, made her almost giddy with delight. She gazed up into his chocolate brown eyes and was lost.
The dance came to an end all too soon, but the captain didn’t return her to her mother, whom he must have seen as well as she had. Instead, he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm and promenaded the perimeter of the dance floor, nodding to and greeting people he knew. The two young officers who’d danced the cotillion with them approached, minus their partners, eager looks on their young faces.
The captain halted, if with a touch of reluctance, but manners dictated that you couldn’t ignore the approach of acquaintances. Ysella bestowed a smile upon the two young men.
“I say, Featherstone,” the first young man, who could only have been a year or two older than Ysella herself, began. “Introduce us to your lovely companion, if you dare, so we too can mark her card.”
The second man, who must have been all of thirty, so really old, like Kit and Sam, made a smart bow to Ysella. “I believe I’m acquainted with your brother, Viscount Ormonde, Miss Carlyon.”
Ysella unhooked her hand from the captain’s arm and deployed her fan, not to peek from behind but because she had an inkling her face might be quite flushed. And not just from the dance. “It’s Major Hamilton, isn’t it?”
The major nodded, smiling, his gaze fixed on her face. “I’m surprised you remember me. Last time I was at Ormonde, you were still a chit in the schoolroom.”
Recovering her composure a little now she wasn’t quite so close to Captain Featherstone, Ysella dimpled at him. “Of course I remember you. You may yourself have left the schoolroom well behind, Major, but rest assured that whatever goes on in a house is known within its confines almost the moment it happens. Only I think when you called before you were only a lowly lieutenant, were you not?”
“I say, you two,” put in the younger man. “You rather have the advantage of me, and I’d like a proper introduction if you don’t mind.”
Captain Featherstone sighed and turned to Ysella again. “Allow me to introduce you, Miss Carlyon, to Lieutenant Roderick Chatham.”
Lieutenant Chatham made a smart bow to Ysella. “Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Carlyon. Might I trouble you to put my name on your dance card? I couldn’t help but admire the grace with which you were dancing with Featherstone.”
Ysella suppressed a giggle. What a flatterer. She had not been dancing well, what with the distraction of the captain’s touch, but nevertheless, she wasn’t about to argue with the young man. She brought out her dance card and pencil and smiled. “You may indeed.”
The major looked miffed. “Damn you, Chatham, pushing in. I was here first.”
Ysella ignored the spat and wrote down Chatham’s name on her dance card, and with a smile for the venerable major, added his name as well. Whereupon she became aware of a growing crowd of young men surrounding them, all of them clamoring for an introduction and to be included for a dance. This was better than the ball last year at Denby Castle. Not only were the young men eager for her attentions slightly older and more sophisticated than the sons of the Wiltshire gentry, but they were also better looking.
She was just adding yet another name to her card when her mother hove into view with Cousin Marianne and Charlotte in tow. They rather had to shoulder their way through the throng to reach Ysella.
“Ysella, there you are,” Mama said, bestowing her most withering frown on the gathering of beaux, but most particularly on the captain. “You should not have left poor Charlotte alone like that. You must think before you act, my dear.”
Captain Featherstone stepped forward and made a bow. “Lady Ormonde.” He smiled at her as he rose. “I would know you anywhere for your lovely daughter is cast in your image. Had I not known better, I’d have taken you for Miss Carlyon’s older sister.” He smiled. “Allow me to introduce myself. Captain Oliver Featherstone of the West London Militia, at your service.”
Mama didn’t alter her expression of disapproval by one iota. Not a woman to be swayed by casual flattery. Ysella wanted to giggle but suppressed the urge.
Captain Featherstone seemed unfazed by Mama’s matronly disapproval though. “Might I call upon you tomorrow at Ormonde House?”
Mama wanted to say no. Ysella could feel it in every pore of her body. But manners dictated that she should say yes. With no hint of welcome on her face, Mama bowed her head in acquiescence. “That would be most pleasant, but not before one, please, Captain Featherstone.”
Ysella glanced at Charlotte, who’d pulled her muslin shawl about her body as though in an effort to protect herself from the gaze of the crowd of eager young men. Not that any of them were looking at her. They only seemed to have eyes for Ysella. Inspired by her promise to be nice to Charlotte, and still guilty after her discovery that her teasing had been viewed as bullying, the conviction that she could do something helpful for her cousin came over Ysella. “This is my dear cousin, Miss Fortescue,” she announced with a cheery smile for the assembled crowd of young men. “I’m sure all you young gentlemen would love to dance with her as well as with me.”
Charlotte’s face took on a mulish expression and the shawl tightened as some of the more polite young men turned their attention to her.
Mama’s face became even more disapproving.
Ysella frowned. What had she done now? Surely helping to fill Charlotte’s dance card was to be smiled upon?
Lieutenant Chatham made Cousin Charlotte a smart bow. “Miss Fortescue, might I trouble you to put my name on your dance card?”
Charlotte shot a pleading glance at her mother, who moved in for the kill. “Of course you may, young man. Charlotte. Get out your card and pencil.”
The next glance that came from Charlotte was for Ysella, and it was not a pleading one. With her brows set in a heavy scowl, she consented, under her mother’s strict supervision, to writing down the names of half a dozen young men on her card, all the while shooting death stares at Ysella.
The music for the next dance began, and Ysella, with a cheery smile for Mama and Cousin Marianne and not even a glance for Charlotte, twirled off onto the dance floor with the lieutenant.
A determination to discover more about Oliver Featherstone seized her. And, as the lieutenant knew him, this gave her the perfect opportunity to employ her interrogation skills.
“How long have you known Captain Featherstone?” she asked, deciding not to beat about the bush, as she and the lieutenant came together and danced a figure.
The young man seemed somewhat put out that she wanted to talk about his friend. “Wouldn’t you rather tell me about yourself?” he asked, setting a hot hand in hers.
Determined not to be distracted, Ysella shook her head. “I am so boring. All I’ve ever done is live in the country with my mother and brother. Whereas you brave soldiers must have many exciting stories to tell. And although you are scarcely older than I am, the captain looks as though he has some years of service you could tell me about.”
The lieutenant frowned as they parted, and when they came together again, he heaved a deep sigh. “It’s only the London Militia, you know. Not one of Wellington’s crack regiments.”
Ysella smiled her sweetest smile. “On the contrary. You have a vitally important role to play. My brother has told me so concerning our Wiltshire Militia. It is beholden upon you brave men to defend the country and our lives while the main force of our armies is on the continent with Wellington himself.” She dimpled. “Just in case the French turn up on our doorsteps.”
The young man colored at the lavish praise, even though she’d been aiming it at Featherstone and not him. He probably didn’t realize that. “I’ve only known Featherstone a year, since I took up my commission.”
“My mama would want to know what sort of a family he comes from,” Ysella said, deciding her wisest move was to discover everything Mama would want to know, lest a disagreement might arrive in the near future. She might need ammunition to hurl back.
“And you wish to know that too?”
Ysella nodded. “And why not? Does he have what my brother would call prospects ?”
Chatham laughed. “I daresay. I believe his father is a bishop. I doubt you can get much more respectable than that.”
A bishop. The thought of the captain having been brought up in a religious household surprised Ysella, but would no doubt mollify Mama and Kit somewhat. He had such an air of… what? Of nothing mattering to him. Not religion or politics or what a girl’s mother thought of him. That warm feeling around her heart descended into her stomach and made it give a little flip. No son of a bishop should possess the air of latent excitement she’d sensed in the captain. With unusual perspicacity, she concluded he could only be a disappointment to his father. And a delight for a young girl with a romantic heart.
Major Hamilton, when it was his turn to escort her onto the dance floor, proved a little more helpful. “His father is the Bishop of Bath and Wells,” he told Ysella during the moments the dance brought them together. “I believe his mother is dead and he has one sister, younger than him. He’s a damned good soldier.”
“Does he have… is he attached to a particular young lady?” Ysella asked, coloring as the words came out, not at all sure how to couch such an enquiry.
Major Hamilton laughed, but with restraint. “Not as yet. He’s in no position to offer for a girl, if that’s what you mean. Being the son of a cleric doesn’t exactly leave a young man with much in the way of funds.” He twirled her round. “I should know. My own father is a sight lower in the clergy than Featherstone’s father, and I doubt I’ll ever be in a position to make an offer for anyone.”
“Oh.” Ysella digested all this information and stored it away for future reference. After all, she was a girl with a sizeable dowry endowed upon her as a child when her dear papa died. He’d made sure all his girls were well provided for without encumbering the estate Kit had inherited. She had no need to marry well, as Mama would have put it. Indeed, her sister Meliora had made a love match with a lowly lawyer who had to work for his living, and no one had protested at that. So the impecunity of Captain Featherstone, who she was already seeing in the light of a suitor, need not matter a jot.
To her delight, the dashing captain sought her out after midnight when they all went in to supper, tucking her small hand into the crook of his arm and smiling down at her as though she were the only girl at the ball. “How could I not choose you to lead in to supper?” he said, his dark eyes smoldering with promise. But of exactly what, Ysella couldn’t guess.
She took her place at the long supper table, glowing with pride, but she could only pick at the food he put on her plate and sip the wine a liveried servant poured for her.
If only etiquette didn’t dictate that she could only dance once with a young man. She still had one or two gaps on her dance card and longed to be able to write the captain’s name in one of them. How silly were the rules of polite society, and how very annoying. Her dear friend and sister-in-law, Morvoren, would rail against them as much as she was, if she were here instead of stuck down in Wiltshire “as big as a house.” Morvoren’s own words in a letter she’d sent, not Ysella’s own. Having to produce an heir was one of the downsides of courtship and marriage, in Ysella’s opinion, although last time she’d seen Morvoren, her sister-in-law had seemed quite content, if not ecstatic, about the state she was in.
“Tell me,” the captain said, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. “Have you been to the Lyceum yet to see Mrs. Dickens in Devil’s Bridge ? I hear it’s very good.”
Ysella shook her head, refraining from telling her beau that she’d never yet been to the theater. Best not to look too much like a country bumpkin in front of a young man for whom London and all its refinements was home.
Undeterred, he went on. “Or there’s Quadrapeds at Covent Garden. And I do believe I heard they had an elephant on the stage at one point, although I couldn’t be certain if this tale is true, elephants being so very large.”
“An elephant?” Ysella had but the vaguest notion of what an elephant looked like, her schooling having been somewhat deficient about natural history. Somewhat deficient, in fact, in most subjects, once she’d been expelled from school.
The captain nodded. “If you’ve never seen one, perhaps you could be persuaded to accompany me to the Royal Menagerie at the Exeter ’Change? I hear they have a fine selection of beasts there—definitely an elephant, but also a hippopotamus, that is a water horse, although it looks nothing like a horse to me, and a rhinoceros. Huge animals you can’t see anywhere else. You would be amazed at the variety of beasts other countries abound with. We’re very lucky to be able to go and see them here in London.”
Ysella’s curiosity was aroused. Of course she would like to go to the Exeter ’Change and see these strange and exotic animals, but would Mama allow her to go with the captain? This would need careful handling, but at least Kit wasn’t here to stop her. There was that.