Page 7 of The Gods Time Forgot
Seven
When the dance concluded, Finn glanced around the room at all the matchmaking mothers waiting to pounce—smiling broadly, pushing their blushing young women toward him.
Three hundred of Manhattan’s wealthiest individuals huddled under six glittering chandeliers, thanking their lucky stars that Gloria Fitzgerald deigned to think of them. The money spent on this event alone could feed the entirety of the city’s poor for a year. He was ashamed to be a part of it.
A ruffled Ned Harrington approached him. “This corner of the room is wedged. I see why now,” he said, nodding back to the cluster of women standing in what resembled a line. “Fear I may have a few daggers in my back, seeing as I’ve jumped the queue.” He laughed.
“Is it always like this?” Finn asked, taking a sip of his brandy.
“I wouldn’t know,” Ned said. “We’re new to these circles. I’ve only recently reconnected with Richard. He married into Gloria’s family, and our paths had not crossed for quite some time.”
“Well, he’s brought you into the fold now,” Finn said. However short lived it was likely to be.
“Tentatively, I’m sure. I know my daughter isn’t helping things.”
Finn was surprised to hear Ned acknowledge it so freely.
“I know she means well, but she’s just so … lively.” Ned knocked the liquid in his glass back and signaled for another.
Finn thought back to the way his daughter had sparred with him just this morning. Lively wouldn’t be his first choice of words, but he chose his next ones carefully. “Seeing as we’re going to be working together, I thought it prudent to inform you that I’ve heard some damaging rumors regarding your daughter.”
Ned’s red face blanched, but he nodded, understanding. “My wife kept it from the papers, but you can’t keep the servants from talking.”
“Is there any truth to any of it?”
“Depends on what you heard,” Ned said.
Finn didn’t have the stomach to tell her father that people were calling her a murdering devil worshipper.
Another servant returned with Ned’s drink. “That bad?” he asked.
“Well”—Finn hesitated—“yes. That bad.”
Ned closed his eyes and finished his drink in one swallow. “I don’t know what happened. Emma was doing well; she was at the Devonshire Academy, in her final year. The next thing we know, she’s been expelled. We brought her to the summer estate—Flossie couldn’t bear to have her return to the city, of course. We thought we might wait it out while handling the news of her expulsion. All that money I spent to keep it out of the papers, and for what? Everyone knows.” He shook his head but continued.
“She was unsettled at home. Acting strangely. She and my wife were always at odds. It was quite precarious. And then one afternoon she went missing.” Ned’s words were flowing like a ruptured dam, rapid and scattered. And he was somewhere else entirely, watching it all play out.
“We searched everywhere. A maid was with her in the garden. She could have only been gone a minute, but she vanished. Nowhere to be found.”
After a long moment of silence, Finn asked, “And what happened?”
“The search party found her in the woods a day later, and nothing more was said about it, but she’s different now, changed somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
“I heard a man died. Is that true?”
Ned looked at Finn, horror-struck with the realization that he might’ve said too much.
“I’ll keep this between us,” Finn assured him, though most of these details were already out.
“She didn’t do it, but a man that went to help her died. Fell into a hot spring, and the burns were too severe. Couldn’t be saved. Of course they’ll blame my daughter, though.”
A hot spring? Finn supposed it was plausible. And more believable than what the foreman had suggested, that it was Oweynagat, the Cave of Cats. Though Ned was right: they would blame his daughter regardless.
Finn scanned the ballroom for Miss Harrington.
Impossible to miss, she was the first woman he’d seen when he first arrived and walked into the salon. And now, through the crowded ballroom, without any effort at all, he found her. His eyes were drawn to her in the back corner, bickering with her mother.
“I feel she’ll never garner the acceptance her mother so desperately seeks,” Ned said.
Finn knew how difficult it could be to infiltrate society circles. He’d had a devil of a time entering London society. No one wanted anything to do with the unknown lord from Ireland. They had a dim view of the Irish there in general, but fortunately for Finn, he was a man, and he was rich. And of course, here in New York, he was an exotic lord, Irish or not. That was all it took to have the ladies of the upper ten clamoring for his attention.
“Well, perhaps a dance with me would help.” Finn was offering before he realized what he was doing or why he was doing it.
“Let us find her, then.” Mr. Harrington perked up. “And if you wouldn’t mind, keep this morning’s events between us? It’ll cause unnecessary drama with my wife.”
Finn nodded, understanding.
They shuffled through the throng of partygoers to the back of the room to find Miss Harrington sitting in a chair while Ned’s wife chatted with another mother and daughter.
It was a true shock to the senses to see someone as stunning as Miss Harrington relegated to a chair at the back of a ballroom. Under any other circumstance, he had no doubt she’d be the center of attention, the woman everyone wanted. He almost didn’t believe she was the threat they described. Almost.
Watching her stare out at the other guests with a narrowed gaze, scanning, observing, assessing as though impervious to her own indiscretions, he sensed she was more mischievous than benevolent. A harsh judgment, certainly, but he could not deny his immediate instinct.
When Mrs. Harrington spotted their approach, she beamed. Her daughter, on the other hand, looked ill. He wondered if she was worried about him bringing up what happened this morning.
“Good evening, my lord.” Mrs. Harrington rushed forward, then turned back to her daughter, motioning for her to stand up. Miss Harrington peeled herself from her chair.
As she rose to her full height and rolled back her shoulders, he was caught under a brief spell, mesmerized by her movements. Poised and unaffected, with her long slender fingers, she brushed loose curls from her face. He’d never seen such beauty. A single strand stuck to the corner of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly as she used her index finger to free it, pulling gently on her bottom lip. A perfect pair of lips.
Remembering himself, he cleared his throat. “Good evening, Mrs. Harrington, Miss Harrington. A pleasure to meet you both.”
Miss Harrington looked at him, relief flooding her face, presumably because he hadn’t acknowledged their meeting this morning. She gave him the smallest of smiles, and he found himself happy to be the one to have solicited it.
“My lord, here is my daughter’s dance card.” Interrupting their moment, Mrs. Harrington shoved the small card in his face and then handed him a pen.
Irritated, Finn flipped it over, finding it empty. He looked again to Miss Harrington and back at her empty card. None of it added up.
Mrs. Harrington grabbed her husband’s arm, dragging him away. “I must steal my husband momentarily. I assure you I will return him. Darling, stay with the Lord of Donore.”
Mrs. Harrington’s behavior was mortifyingly obvious, as Gloria Fitzgerald had mentioned it would be.
He and Miss Harrington were left standing alone. He could feel the room watching them where they stood. He loathed the attention, especially that it was negative. This was the threat Miss Harrington posed: she was a social pariah. And the longer he stood by her side, the more his own reputation was at risk, but he’d foolishly given Ned his word.
Miss Harrington glanced around her and then up at him. He did as was expected and offered her his arm, wondering if she knew how far out on the limb he was going for her.
She stared at it, looking thoroughly uninterested, then walked away.
He stood motionless as he registered the slight, and then he went after her.
Pushing through the nosy spectators, he hoped they couldn’t see the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. He’d be damned if he’d let her take him down with her.
“Where are you going?” he asked, catching up to her.
She didn’t answer, instead continuing her misguided march to ruin.
“Miss Harrington, if your intention is to further sully your reputation, then by all means, keep walking.” He knew it was a low blow, but both of their reputations were at stake. To be seen engaging in conversation with her was precarious enough, never mind having her publicly rebuff him.
She stopped, turning slowly, as she asked, “What do you know of my reputation?”
If he were a lesser man, he would have crumpled under the weight of her ire.
“I know more than I ever cared to.” And because of that, and his connection to Ned, he now felt responsible. Culpable. Her actions would have consequences that would affect them both.
Miss Harrington considered him a moment, regarding him with her bright-green eyes, and then nodded, both of them coming to a silent conclusion.
In one swift movement, he moved to her side and tucked her arm around his.
He saw her breath catch, felt his own quicken. It was a reckless sense of satisfaction, having her on his arm, as if they belonged to only each other. She was the most beautiful woman in the room, and she belonged at his side.
A paradox if there ever was one.
He pushed the wayward thoughts away. By his side was the last place he should desire her to be. He’d worked hard to establish himself and would not throw it away because he found himself attracted to the last woman he should be.
“I trust you know how to waltz.” He guided them toward the dance floor, trying to remain indifferent.
“I believe so.” Her voice was unsure.
He looked again to see that it was the same woman on his arm. “You believe so?”
“Well, this is the first ball I’ve been to. I’d hardly say I’m an expert,” she said, her right hand pulling at her skirt while she scanned the ballroom, meeting one resentful glare after another.
“Wasn’t that the point of finishing school?” He couldn’t imagine someone of her age and wealth to have been sheltered in such a way.
The movement was subtle—he doubted she even realized she’d done it—but she shrank into him, pressing her body tighter to his, as though he might shield her from the scorn. Part of him wished he could.
“Didn’t they tell you?” She raised a brow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I was expelled.”
“You seem awfully pleased with yourself,” he said.
“I’m certainly not displeased.” She grinned.
He felt his own mouth fighting a grin. “Why on earth would your mother hand me your dance card, then?”
“Please do not allow Flossie’s request to confuse you, my lord. Nor should you look further into the meaning behind it. You’re simply a handsome means to what she hopes to be a very illustrious end. I can assure you that I would prefer to be sitting in the cushioned chair you plucked me from rather than be displayed in front of a roomful of people that would sooner burn me at the stake than offer me a smile.”
If not for the fact that she’d just called him handsome, he might have asked why she referred to her mother as Flossie. She was giving herself away with every word. But the more she spoke, the more he needed to know. Not because he wanted to save himself from scandal but because he’d never met anyone like her.
They lined up along the edge of the floor with the other couples.
Miss Harrington continued, not caring that people might overhear their conversation. “I don’t see how not knowing a dance should have any reflection on my character. It is one of the more ridiculous rules. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.”
“You need not dance to ruin your character, Miss Harrington. Merely opening your mouth should do the trick. But your mother was right about one thing: a dance with me will do wonders for your reputation.”
“Awfully impressed with ourselves, aren’t we?” She glanced up at him.
“No more than you,” he challenged.
An airy chuckle floated from her lips. He relished her approval.
“But I am a lord, and as such, I am the most sought-after man in this ballroom. One glance around and you’ll see that I’m right. Every eye is upon us.”
“It’s a wonder anyone else can even fit into this ballroom with the size of your head.”
He swallowed a laugh, and with the change of music, he released her arm, moving his right hand to the small of her back. As his palm grazed the silk of her gown, he hesitated, noting a pull so singular in its urgency he feared that if he held her, he might never let go. Flexing his fingers, he took a quiet breath, until finally he rested his palm flat against her back.
Her body relaxed into the pressure, but at the same moment, she looked up at him, unsure. Holding her gaze, he took her other hand. Her fingers curled around his, and he pulled her closer. A warm rush filled his chest. He was muddled, reeling from the closeness. The cosmos could’ve separated them, and still it wouldn’t be enough space to clear his mind.
“Just so we’re clear.” Her words were a devastating interruption to his musings. “I would prefer not to dance with you, my lord.”
“Afraid it’s too late for that.” They began to glide. Not that he would have given her up anyway. For this moment, she was his.
“I should think a gentleman would have at least given me the choice.”
“Well.” He dipped his head lower, wearing a devilish grin. “I am not a gentleman.”
She opened her mouth in disbelief, then closed it.
Apprehension flashed in her eyes as they began to move, her nerves making her squeeze his hand tighter. She looked up at him, vulnerable, almost pleading, though he doubted she’d ever admit it. He’d wager she’d bungle the dance before she’d ask him for help, but he would help her anyway.
He gave her an encouraging nod and began to whisper, “One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two three,” until he could see she had it. She was a quick study, picking up the steps in no time.
“Would you have truly declined my invitation, given the choice?” he asked as they danced across the ballroom.
“Of course I would have declined. You’re not as appealing as you think you are.”
“But you do find me slightly appealing?” He cocked a brow. He couldn’t stop himself.
“Why should it matter if I find you appealing, my lord?” She fluttered her lashes. “I’m sure your moral superiority would not allow you to be flattered by such a base compliment from a woman with a reputation like mine.”
The guile glittering in her eyes did not betray her thoughts. A formidable opponent.
“Finally, we are in agreement, Miss Harrington. Your flattery would only wound me.”
“I thought as much. A man of your stature could never stand to listen to the wicked things I might say.”
He covered his shock with a cough. She offered a satisfied smile. Bloody hell. He wanted nothing more than to find the darkest corner of the ballroom so he could hear more of those wicked words tumble out of her rosy lips.
Before his mind wandered any further, he stopped himself. He needed no distractions while he was in New York. Most definitely not when they came in the form of discerning redheaded beauties on the fringes of polite society.
Finn cleared his throat in an attempt to return some normalcy to the conversation he had willingly guided off track. “Tell me what brought you to the worksite at such an early hour today?” Perhaps if he could remind himself of the devil-worshipping rumors or the man who had died trying to find her, his own good sense would kick in.
“As much as you might wish it otherwise, my lord, my choices and motivations are none of your concern,” she said, as though she could see past his polite facade right to his very soul, to the part of him that wished to know everything about her.
He searched for clever words that could act as a rebuttal, but there were none.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Surely, you cannot be done reprimanding me.”
His eyes found hers once more. They were full of life and full of wonder, taking in the room around her, as though she were seeing it all for the first time.
“If you must know, I was wondering what it’s like inside that head of yours,” he said.
She smiled. “I daresay you wouldn’t like it. Far too many thoughts and considerations for a man to keep pace.”
He let out a laugh. She was exquisite. He almost didn’t care that there were hundreds of eyes on them and they’d been carrying on a conversation for far longer than was appropriate. Almost.
“You should smile more,” she said, wearing a thoughtful look.
As if prompted by her very words, his smile grew. Embarrassed, he looked away.
He made eye contact with Ned Harrington, who looked nervously at the two of them laughing and chatting away as if they were familiar. He and Miss Harrington were under enough scrutiny already. It was time he had a care.
“I would prefer if you would refrain from giving unsolicited advice regarding my personal appearance, Miss Harrington,” he said sternly.
“Is that so?” she asked, catching his sudden change in tone. “I would prefer to stop dancing right this very minute.” She pressed her body closer to his. He cursed the garments between them. “But we can’t always have what we want, now, can we?” she whispered up to him. “Perhaps I’ll be the first to teach you that lesson?”
“I beg your pardon,” he said, swallowing hard.
A smile tugged on her lips. “Close your mouth, my lord. You might catch a fly.”
He snapped his mouth shut. He couldn’t think straight. He needed to get away, but this waltz was never ending, and the music would play in his head forevermore.
“Do not mistake my shock for desire,” he warned her, yet he held her tighter, lying to them both.
“I hardly think I’m mistaken. Look at you.” She smiled; her lips parted slightly as she tilted her head upward. A glutton for punishment, he bent to meet her, letting the warmth of her breath tickle his ear. “You can scarcely breathe.”
The hair stood on the back of his neck. The music stopped. She stepped back, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to appear collected.
“There, that’s done,” she said over the room’s customary applause.
“Let’s find your parents.” He ground the words out, offering his arm, wondering if she were affected at all the way he was.
The crowd parted as they walked together. Rather than adulation, they were showered with glowers and murmurs.
He glanced down at Miss Harrington, lovely and impenetrable, and was struck with a terrible sense of d é j à vu. As though in another life they’d lived this exact moment, or at the very least, one just like it.
Sensing his focus, she looked up at him. In her gaze he found none of that fiery frustration he was growing accustomed to but instead warmth and a gentle curiosity. She searched his face, and a lifetime passed between them.
Somewhere along the way, her hand had slid down his forearm and was dangerously close to intertwining with his. He wasn’t sure she was even aware, but he didn’t have the fortitude to stop her. He allowed his desires to best him as he waited to see how it would play out. At what point he would stop her, he didn’t know.
In a moment of horrifying clarity, she yanked her hand away and shoved it behind her back. “I—” she started to say, but stopped.
He said nothing as they found the Harringtons standing with the Fitzgeralds. Here he was, caught red-handed, doing the one thing he was warned not to, in the most public way possible.
Miss Harrington walked up to them without him, and he let out a deep breath.
He heard Mrs. Harrington ask Miss Harrington where he had gone to, but he slipped away before she could catch him.
He had done what Ned had asked and then some. She was far more trouble than Ned realized, and he was going to have an impossible time keeping her from the scandal sheets and off Mr. Fitzgerald’s radar.
If the Harringtons ever wanted to make it in this world, they would do well to keep their daughter confined to the inside of their home. Though, deep down, he hoped they wouldn’t.