It was a mistake to come to the damned ball, Sebastian realized almost immediately. No steward announced the arrivals, and yet a silence permeated the crowd when he and his brothers stepped through the open doorway into the gilded ballroom. Mothers scurried to their daughters; fathers took steps forward as though to form some sort of protective wall around them.
The host and hostess, Lord and Lady Weatherly, approached cautiously. Slightly behind them, a blond-haired beauty glowed with anticipation, her gaze directed at Tristan. Sebastian despised himself for considering that at one time he would have garnered as much attention. More in fact. Besides astonishingly good looks, he possessed a title. He would have been the sought-after brother rather than the one who wished he were on the sea instead of here. But he had come to understand that Mary had spoken true: their entrance back into Society required they make yet another appearance. Even Rafe, for all his protests to the contrary, had recognized the importance of their being here.
They were dressed to the nines, in matching black swallow-tailed coats, white shirts, and black cravats. The only thing that varied was their waistcoat: his, gray; Tristan’s a royal blue, and Rafe’s a hunter green. His valet had trimmed his hair, but it was still longer than was fashionable. It seemed his brothers had also taken measures to tidy up a bit more, but not completely. They were part of this Society and yet each felt a need to not be totally absorbed by it. They’d been too long on their own.
“Your Grace,” Lord Weatherly said stiffly. “My lords. Welcome to Camden house.”
“We were honored to receive the invitation,” Sebastian assured him.
Lady Weatherly snapped her head around to the blond, whom he assumed had to be her daughter. The girl blushed, then curtsied. “It was our pleasure to send it. Forgive my boldness, Lord Tristan, but I did keep a spot on my dance card reserved for you in anticipation of your attending.”
“I quite prefer my women bold,” Tristan said, a devastatingly wicked smile accompanying his words. Lord Weatherly tightened his jaw, his lady gasped.
“I am Lady Hermione,” their daughter said.
“I look forward to whispering your name later.”
The girl looked to be upon the verge of swooning. Her father looked on the verge of delivering a blow to Tristan’s face. Or at least attempting to. Sebastian doubted he’d make contact before Tristan introduced the man’s skull to the floor.
“My lord—” Weatherly began.
“Only during the dance, of course,” Tristan said, smoothly cutting the man off. “Which is when, my lady?”
“Two dances hence.”
“I shall wait with baited breath.”
With a quick curtsy, she scurried away, her hands fluttering so madly that she had no need of a fan.
“Relax, Weatherly,” Sebastian said. “She’s far too young for my brother, and we have scandal aplenty in our family without creating more.”
“Innocent flirtation, Weatherly,” Tristan said in an additional effort to reassure the man.
“If you wish introductions . . .” the lady began, then halted as her husband’s jaw turned as hard as granite.
Sebastian suspected she’d rather not make them anyway. “I’m certain we shall get along on our own. I’ve already spotted a few familiar faces.” He didn’t know who the devil the people were but he remembered seeing them the night he and his brothers burst into his uncle’s ball. And of course there were those he’d met at Lady Ivers’s dinner. The woman had indeed done him a great service.
He didn’t think Lady Weatherly could have looked more relieved if he’d stated that they were taking their leave. With a bow to their hosts, he strode past them in to the main portion of the salon. He located an unhampered area that gave way to shadow. A perfect spot for watching.
“Well, it seems we are once again garnering attention,” Tristan mused laconically.
“We are hardly known and, therefore, we are a curiosity,” Sebastian said. He scanned the crowd, noticed a man walking toward him. Unlike everyone else in the room, he seemed neither curious nor intrigued, but he wore confidence with the ease that most men wore their jacket. His black hair was perfectly styled. As he neared, his emerald eyes caught Sebastian’s attention. He’d seen them before.
The man stopped before him. “Keswick. My lords.”
Sebastian shook his head. “I’m sorry, man. You look familiar but—”
“Ainsley. Our paths crossed at Eton some years back.”
“I was there for only a year. I can hardly countenance that you remembered me.”
“I must confess that I doubt I’d have known who you were if someone hadn’t pointed you out to me. I understand you fought in the Crimea.”
“I did indeed.”
“My brother returned home last fall to recover from injuries. Bloody awful thing. I’m glad you’re home, man.”
“Thank you, Ainsley.” He wondered if Ainsley had heard everything. Surely he had, but apparently he was not one to speculate or gossip.
“If you gentlemen will excuse me now, I must take my leave.”
“The evening is young,” Rafe said.
“I seldom attend these affairs, but I have made it a policy that when I do, I call it an evening as soon as I’ve enjoyed one dance. Less chance to give the mothers ideas or hope. Gentlemen.” He made his way out of the ballroom without making any further stops.
“Ainsley?” Tristan murmured.
“An extremely wealthy and powerful duke,” Rafe said.
“I suppose you know them all,” Tristan said.
“A good many of them. Some belong to my club. Ainsley doesn’t. His speaking with you should give you a certain amount of cache.”
“And has delayed my searching out the lovely Lady Hermione,” Tristan said. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe it’s almost time for our dance.”
“Do take care with her, Tristan,” Sebastian ordered. “She is a lady and not a doxy.”
“I’m not as uncivilized as you might think. I know we’re being judged by our actions tonight.”
“I meant no insult.”
“None taken.”
But Sebastian could see the lie in his eyes. Damnation. As Tristan walked away, Sebastian knew the last thing he needed was to cause a riff between himself and the one person who seemed to truly understand the importance of all they were doing. No, that wasn’t exactly true. Mary seemed to have a sense of it as well.
“I believe I shall seek out the card room,” Rafe said.
“We need to talk.”
Rafe had taken only a partial step when he glanced back at his brother.
“I’d like to know what happened while I was away,” Sebastian said. “Perhaps after this affair, you would stop by Easton House for a bit of whiskey and conversation.” Rafe had not returned to the house since the morning Sebastian had taken up residence.
“No good would come of the tale, and I suspect you’d find my company unpalatable. I shall stay long enough to make a favorable impression by losing a modest sum.”
“You can guarantee your loss?”
“I can guarantee any outcome I desire. But men will look more favorably on us if we’re not taking from their coffers. Once I’ve seen to it, then I shall be on my way.”
Sebastian didn’t object when Rafe strode toward the hallway. Then he spied the real reason he’d come tonight. Mary. He’d wanted to see her once more dressed in a ball gown. He wanted to watch her dance, to see the glow in her eyes as she enjoyed the occasion. As always the shade of her hair drew him. Even with it piled up and held in place with pearl combs, revealing the long slope of her neck. Graceful, like a swan. But then everything about her was graceful. She was no longer the hoyden who had torn over fields with him, who had dared him to climb trees, or goaded him to crawl into a badger’s den. Thank God the badger had not been in residence at the time.
She had tempted him with childish things. He feared she could tempt him with a great deal more now. Things he shouldn’t want from her. Things he didn’t deserve from her. She deserved the elegance of this life. The balls and soirees. Ladies frequently stopped her progress through the ballroom for a brief chat. She was sought-after, adored, loved. He caught the occasional gentleman admiring her. How could they not? Her pale pink gown with its deep emerald trim bared her shoulders and the ample swells of her breasts to a man’s discerning eye, cinched in tightly at her small waist. Her white kid gloves stretched past her elbows. He had a flash of memory that involved ungainly long limbs. She had grown into them, transformed them into elegance and grace.
Three other ladies joined the last group of gossipmongers who held Mary’s attention. He had no doubt that it was the talk of scandal that tripped off their tongues. One pointed her fan toward the crush of dancing couples just as Tristan and Lady Hermione came into view. He couldn’t deny that his brother certainly knew how to take advantage of a dance floor. But it was also evident that he was daring enough to hold the lady a little too near. Although she certainly didn’t seem to object as she gazed up at him, her smile bright enough to illuminate the room should all the candles suddenly be doused.
Careful there, Tristan, he mused. You’ll find yourself with a pistol at your back and a clergyman at your front if you don’t watch yourself.
These were not Rafe’s girls who expected nothing from a gent except a quick tumble. No, these ladies expected—and deserved—everything.
Another fan, pointed in his direction, caught his eye and he focused his attention back on the group of ladies. The holder of the fan quickly opened it and hid her face behind it, as though embarrassed that she’d been caught displaying rude behavior. Or perhaps his solitary gaze simply disarmed her. Much more comfortable to gossip when the object in question wasn’t paying attention. He recognized none of the ladies from the dinner party. Dear Lord but there were an abundance of people to meet.
Mary swung her gaze over and smiled. He wanted to think the upturn of her mouth was pleasure at seeing him, but he thought it more likely that she was responding to some bit of trifle spoken by one of the ladies. She turned away for just a moment, touching a hand here, an arm there, and then was strolling toward him.
He could only pray that she was not coming to claim her dance.
To Mary the scars marring Sebastian’s face were nothing beyond an insignia of courage. But he obviously considered them otherwise because just as he had during their previous encounters, he hid his left side in shadows. Yet he couldn’t hide the true breadth of his shoulders or the strong cut of his jaw. He couldn’t hide his entitlement or his impatience with the entire affair. He was here out of obligation, duty. A need to make a statement.
The Duke of Keswick had reclaimed what had been stolen, but she couldn’t help but feel as though he had not yet acquired it all. His titles, yes. His lands, his estates, his London residence. But there was so much more, something that wasn’t quite so easily defined. She feared that was still being denied him. Hence her suggestion he attend tonight’s affair. But it did him little good to skulk in corners and frighten young maidens.
“I never thought you to be a wallflower,” she said after she came to a stop at his side.
“I’m simply getting a lay of the land.”
“Your intensity is quite intimidating. Young ladies are conflicted as to whether they should ask for an introduction. They fear your bite. I assured them you will only bark.”
“You shouldn’t be so confident of that.”
She heard no teasing in his voice. When he had run for his life, she feared he’d lost his heart and soul along the way. She supposed he had every reason to be bitter, but it hardly made him a candidate for good company. “You might try to cease your scowling. Even the lords are wary.”
“Yet, here you are, facing the ogre.”
“You’re hardly an ogre. A bit reticent, but then under the circumstances, quite understandable. Is there someone to whom you wish an introduction?”
“Tonight I am merely observing.”
“That won’t go over well. Perhaps you’ll feel more at ease once we dance.”
“I have no desire to dance.”
She didn’t want to acknowledge the sting that his rejection wrought, or how much she had been looking forward to an excuse to be near him. As children they had danced enthusiastically at the village fair, but that had entailed little more than holding hands, running around, and kicking up their heels. She wondered if he even remembered. “A pity. I saved a waltz for you.”
“Offer it to Tristan. He seems to have found his calling.”
She glanced toward the dance floor, and saw that he had claimed a dance with her cousin, Lady Alicia. She was glad he realized that he should spread himself around. “My cousin often laments how boring these affairs are. I suspect that will not be the case tonight. You do think he’ll take care with her heart, don’t you? She looks rather enamored.”
“I wish I could offer reassurance, but I’m not completely confident in my brother’s character.”
She turned back to him, only to find his gaze riveted on her, leaving her with the sense that while she had enjoyed the dancers, he had enjoyed her. A strange notion. He made no unwarranted overtures, provided no flirtatious banter, but still his intensity made her thoughts wander along forbidden trails. What if he’d never left? What if twelve years ago fate had not conspired to create divergent paths that had forced them to take such astonishingly different journeys? The paths had converged now, but it was not a gentle meeting of wooded byways. Rather it was as though sun-dappled meadow and stormy rock-hewn mountain had crashed together. A strange analogy to run through her head, but she was left with the opinion that life would never be easy for him. Something else lost.
“Are they as much strangers as the rest of us?” she asked quietly.
“In some ways yes.” And then, as though uncomfortable with his admittance, he said solemnly, “You wore the necklace.”
She touched the delicate oval jewel. She had purposely chosen this gown to accentuate the stone, knowing that it also brought out the green of her eyes. “Yes, it’s so lovely. I must apologize for not thanking you and your brothers for the kindness earlier.”
His laughter was low, dark, did not arrive with an accompanying smile. “We would not be here to present gifts if not for your courage.”
“I suspect you would have found a way to thwart your uncle’s plans.”
“We shall never know. Thanks to you.”
He was discarding his own cleverness in favor of hers. But she’d acted without any thought or plans. Still, she supposed she couldn’t argue with the results. Here they were.
“Darling.”
At the familiar refined voice she spun around and smiled, silently chastising herself for the speculation she saw in Fitzwilliam’s eyes. She’d spent far too long speaking alone with Sebastian. It was hardly appropriate behavior for a woman who was betrothed. Hardly appropriate for any unmarried woman. She had no wish for him to doubt her loyalties. “Fitzwilliam.”
“I’ve come to claim my dance.”
“I’m sorry. I was distracted. I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t keep up with them.” He didn’t smile at her teasing tone. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. She turned slightly and gave Sebastian a pointed look. Surely he realized that he needed to acknowledge Fitzwilliam.
“Fitzwilliam,” he finally said.
“Your Grace. I daresay, I was enjoying my time in the card room until your brother relieved me of my blunt for the evening. He seems to have quite the luck with cards.”
“Every man has something at which he excels.”
The tension radiating between the two was thick enough to slice with a knife. Surely Sebastian couldn’t resent every man who had never been dispossessed of his fortune and place in Society. And Fitzwilliam. Was he jealous? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or irritated.
“He more than excels,” Fitzwilliam said.
“If you’re accusing him of something spit it out with straight words.”
The tension ratcheted up several notches. She placed her hand on Fitzwilliam’s arm to remind him she was there. His muscles were as hard as stone. He didn’t like Sebastian. That much was obvious. But he was smart enough to remember the swiftness with which Sebastian had moved that first night when he’d taken offense at his uncle’s words.
“Merely a compliment,” Fitzwilliam said and she felt his muscles relaxing.
“I shall pass it on to my brother.”
“By all means, please do. Now if you’ll be so good as to excuse us, my favorite part of the evening is upon me.”
Sebastian turned to her. “It was good to see you again, Lady Mary.”
“My pleasure, Your Grace. I hope you will reconsider dancing. The ladies always outnumber the gentlemen. I do believe you’ll find yourself never lacking for a partner.”
Before Sebastian could respond, Fitzwilliam was leading her away. “Were you trying to entice him into a dance?”
She heard the displeasure in his voice. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, even though betrothed ladies—indeed married ones—danced with many partners. “I was trying to entice him away from keeping the potted plants company. He’s not comfortable here.”
“I do not see that it is your concern. It’s as though you’ve adopted a stray. First securing him an invitation to your aunt’s dinner and then to this affair.”
“Lady Hermione extended the invitation for tonight.”
“You deny that you had anything at all to do with his presence? That your meeting in the park was merely coincidence and not an attempt to lure him here?”
He’d heard? Of course he had. There was not an action taken in all of London that was not commented on—repeatedly. “I was there as a favor to Lady Hermione.”
“She wanted him here?”
“She wanted Lord Tristan here. But I knew he would only come if Keswick came.”
“You also no doubt have more sway over the duke than over his brother.”
“We were childhood friends. You know that. You also know that it is imperative he be seen at these functions in order to be accepted.”
“I still fail to see why you should care.”
“Because of our friendship. I would share the same concerns for any friend. Lady or gent.”
Taking her in his arms, holding her gaze, he swept her over the dance floor. “Never forget that you belong to me.”
Her eyes widened at that. “You’ve never been quite so possessive.”
“My apologies. I have a bit of a jealous streak, especially where you are concerned. I fear it does not flatter me.”
“And a competitive one. I suspect you didn’t fancy losing your money in the game room.”
“My only consolation is that I was not the only one. These brothers are hardly typical lords.”
“But then they’ve hardly had a typical upbringing or experiences.”
“Your heart is too soft, Mary. Take care or you might find it bruised.”
His warning came just a tad too late, because her heart was already aching for Sebastian and wondering how she could make him more comfortable with his surroundings. Life had thrown many an obstacle his way. It seemed it was not yet done.