Chapter Two
Dane hadn’t particularly wanted to attend the Dewaldington ball this evening but he was under orders by the home office to escort Maria Benavidez among the ton in hopes she would reveal her British contacts. The traitor to his country, the peer suspected of helping finance the French invasion of Portugal and who was manipulating prominent Spanish high society into interfering with the Spanish army and the business of war. Thus undermining the tentative central government of Madrid making it possible for Napoleon to invade Spain.
Earlier that morning he had visited the home of Herman Silas Mathenson the Earl of Berkshire, spymaster, home office liaison and friend to pass along the packet of information he had succeeded in acquiring while in Spain. An unassuming gentleman in his mid fifties with a rotund belly, balding crown circled with a ring of greying short cropped hair, Matherson stood several inches shorter than Dane. To look at him one would think him a office clerk of no importance yet Mathenson had in his younger years been one of Britain's top spies infiltrating high society and governments of foreign countries with a keen shrewdness hidden behind his spectacles. Until he met and fell in love with the woman who was now his wife to whom he pledge to never go out into the field again. Since that moment Herman being unable to give the life up completely worked from behind a desk as a handler for the men who risked their lives every day for their love of country.
Dane accepted Mathenson’s offer of tea then after exchanging pleasantries the spymaster got right to business explaining home office’s need for him to continue his surveillance of Maria Benavidez which meant spending a great deal of time escorting her about London. There was no doubt in his mind that the hot blooded Spaniard expected to spend time in his bed, she enjoyed their time together far more than he did, in fact he did his best to avoid it. Of course he would not complain to the spymaster but he was starting to find it less satisfying and had hoped to distance himself from that part of his job.
When he was first recruited by the home office Dane had fallen into the role of spy with relish and did not consider bedding a woman for information a hardship at all. In fact he had a predilection for taking assignments that assured him time between some lovelies thighs gaining him among his fellow spies the nickname Agent Lothario. Now after several years in the business and countless women Dane was beginning to feel that there was something missing in his life. Though if asked he could not say what that something was just that he no longer looked forward to his assignments with the same enthusiasm as he once had.
That is why being at the ball with Maria clinging to his arm was the last place he really wanted to be. It had been almost a year since he was last in this scene and judging from the crowd not much had changed in that time. Some of the faces may have changed but the atmosphere was the same, mothers pushing daughters onto some poor unsuspecting sap with the hope for the most advantageous marriage. Or some gentleman upon finding himself in dire need of blunt to cover his debts no doubt accumulated through gambling, drinking and whoring in need of a woman with a sizable dowery. Each manipulating the other like pieces on a chess board all for the purpose of a marriage that neither would be happy in.
Dane noticed the sudden hush in the voices that surrounded him when they first stepped through the doors to the ballroom but he didn’t know if it was because he had shown up to the affair after such a long absence or if it was due to the woman on his arm. Maria was indeed a beautiful woman with her olive skin, black as night hair that hung in curls around her angelic face with soft pouting lips and delicate nose and large brown eyes that fluttered downy lashes. Her lush curves were abundantly shown to perfection in the dark blue gown with a near scandalous low cut bodice trimmed with black lace that lead down to her cinched waist.
Maria certainly was beautiful and Dane had been drawn to her immediately but it wasn’t long before he learned she was a master manipulator. She was not beyond using her considerable charms to beguile and entice much in the same way he did and the two of them had ended up in each others bed numerous times. Dane had a certain amount of begrudging respect for the woman, she was after all very good at her job, willing to do what most women would be scandalized in doing but she never had the skills to out maneuver him. At first he delighted in her attempts but like aboard the HMS Dreamer Dane had no interest in taking Maria to his bed anymore. Being with her left him feeling...almost dirty and certainly unfulfilled.
Dane hoped that this evening she would reveal her contact but as he introduced her around there so far had been no one that set off warning signals in his brain but again they had only just arrived. Matherson had indicated that a fellow spy and close friend of Dane would also be in attendance tonight and he scanned the crowd to see if he could spot Alexander.
Marquess Cromwell, Alexander Douglas Hamilton, had been his closest friend since their first day at Eton together. They had both been young lads of two and ten years when their families had shipped them off to school where their friendship quickly developed and they became known as the ADDA boy for their initials, Alexander Douglas and Dane Alexander. Where Dane had been the easy going charmer who could with just a smile that showed off his duel dimples get almost any girl to lift her skirts, Alexander had been the more serious of the two. Not that he didn’t have his share of girls chasing after him with his dark brooding good looks Alex was just a little more discriminating in the women he choose to bed.
Rarely did Alex reveal the women he was involved with but shortly after they left Eton Dane suspected there was a special woman in his life. Alex seemed happier than Dane had ever seen him, he laughed more and he was less serious about matters. He had a lightness in his step and a spark in his deep green eyes that Dane had never seen. Almost overnight though that all changed and Alex became even more dark and sullen with a simmering anger just below the surface that Dane had seen explode with a fierceness that was almost frightening. Soon Alexander was spending lengthy periods of time out of contact and Dane couldn’t help but worry for his friend.
It was after Alex returned from one of his absences that he approached Dane to recruit him into the employ of the home office. Dane jumped at the chance, not because of any deep patriotic sense of duty, that would come later, but because he was bored with his life and was looking for adventure and excitement. The two men worked several assignments together pulling each other out of near disastrous results, saving the life of the other man on many occasions. Though Alex steadfastly refused to speak of the woman that drove him into the world of espionage Dane trusted him with his life just as Alex trusted Dane with his.
Dane spots Alex’s dark head towering above most of the other guest across the room near the refreshment table. As if sensing his eyes on him Alex looks over and without any words spoken Alex barely nods his head before dragging his eyes over Maria. Dane sees the spark of interest in Alex as he observes the woman he will be helping to surveillance.
Dane scans the crowd again and notices across the dance floor from them stands his long time friend the dowager Violet Dillingham. As beautiful as ever with her corn silk hair piled high upon her head and her lithe form wrapped in a deep lavender gown that drew the eyes of nearly every man in the room. Jewels sparkled at her ears and nestled in the warmth of her boson as she stood with regal grace conversing with another woman that Dane did not recognize.
He moved with Maria across the floor with the intention of performing introductions. Dane knew the instant Violet noticed him, her eyes lit up and she smiled at him which he returned marvelling at the fact that he felt not the slightest interest in her other than the friendship they shared. His eyes swung to the woman standing beside her as Violet turned to speak to her and he took in her appearance. Short and slender with dull brown hair there seemed to be nothing noteworthy about the woman. She kept her head down even when addressing Violet and she fidgeted with her ivory colored skirts as if she was possessed of a nervous twitch. As he drew closer he could see her skin was unusually pale as if she had not see the sun despite the evidence of freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“Lady Dillingham,” he greeted Violet with a bow, “what a pleasure it is to see you again.”
Violet dipped into a curtsey and he had to smirk when he saw her tug on the skirt of her companion to get her to do the same.
Where Violet was graceful and refined the other woman was almost clumsy and awkward in her execution.
“The pleasure is mine Your Grace.” Violet told him as she drew the other woman upright with a discreet touch on her elbow that Dane did not miss seeing. After placing a delicate kiss upon her gloved hand Violet turned his attention to the woman beside her.
“I have the pleasure of introducing my dear cousin Miss Charity Price. Charity this is my dear friend Duke Westbrock.”
Dane raised her offered hand to his lips and he noted how it trembled in
his grasp while keeping his eyes on her face, “I am honoured to make
your acquaintance Miss Price.” Still she did not raise her eyes to meet
his gaze and he wondered if the woman was painfully shy or just rude.
“The honour is mine I assure you Your Grace.”
Her words were softly spoken but the seductive tone of her voice hit him with such force that he felt heat waves ripple all the way down to his toes. He silently begged for her to raise her gaze to his and as if she had heard him she granted his request. What he saw stole the breath right out of his lungs. Instead of the bright sharp colored eyes he imagined he found unfocused and dull eyes that stared past not seeing him or for that matter not seeing anything at all.
Dane knew it was rude and uncouth to stare but he could not take his eyes off of her. He thought it was such a shame that this woman, what was her name, oh yes Charity is what Violet had called her, lovely name. Wait, where were his thoughts going? Right, he thought it a shame that Charity or rather Miss Price was blind because she really did have nice eyes. Amber with darker flecks of gold, eyes that would melt a man's resistance if only they had some life to them. As they were they were quite disconcerting and disturbing, he wished he hadn’t gazed upon them.
Dane was brought out of his musings by Maria who feeling the flames of jealousy and neglect squeezed his arm hard enough that he felt her nails through the thickness of his clothing.
Turning to the Spaniard woman who stood stiffly beside him, he proceeded to introduce the three women.
“Ladies may I please introduce to you Miss Maria Benavidez Maria has recently graced our fair country with her presence from her homeland of Spain. Maria this is my long time friend Lady Dillingham and Miss Price.” He saw Maria’s eyes narrow at his reference to Violet being a friend and when she squeezed his arm into her breast causing it to bulge over the top of her already overflowing bodice Dane felt a surge of anger at her brazenly obvious attempt at showing her ownership of him.
The Spaniard all but ignored the two women but Violet as always was a fine example of politeness, “Miss Benavidez how are you finding our fair country, is it to your liking?”
“It is…” Maria paused as if struggling to find the correct word but Dane knew it was her way of being rude and condescending to people she thought beneath her. “It is quaint.” She finally replied with a sweet yet false smile.
Before anything further could be said they were approached by two young gentlemen looking for an introduction. He had been introduced to them during his last season in London and remembered them as simple minded fops that had no thoughts beyond their next game of cards. Viscount Avery a young man that just came into his title with the sudden passing of his father and Lord Edward Wigglesworth, Earl of Luzbury. Dane noticed how throughout the conversation the two men all but ignored Miss Price and he could see how she was slowly drawing away from the group with tiny backward steps. Clearly she was not interested in furthering her acquaintance with any of them and he didn’t know why that angered him.
∞∞∞
Charity had heard his sharp intake of breath that he had tried to cover up when she had risen her face so he could see her eyes. He was no different from every other man she had been introduced to tonight with the exception that he stared at her for several long minutes. She could feel his gaze on her and she began to picture him in her head as she was often want to do. She could tell he was tall just from the direction of his voice, it came from above her by a good foot or more. She thought he must be of sculptured muscles that would ripple with his movement, a man used to the admiration of women. Piqued, she thought he probably had a handsome face with perfect angel white teeth that flash with every smile. He most likely had dimples to go with the smile she thought and in her mind she rolled her eyes. She pictured him with a straight classical greek nose arching to sweeping brows hung over dark eyes, she couldn’t decide if they were blue or grey, that sparkled when he laughed and smoldered when he wished to seduce. His hair she decided was the color of wet sand and it hung in soft waves over his collar with a forelock that insistently fell across his forehead.
Charity was not one to make snap judgements but she was quite certain the Duke of Westbrock was a man accustomed to women falling at his feet. She had no way of knowing how close to the real thing her imaginings were.
As much as Charity could feel his presence the woman with the over liberal use of rose water was making herself known with the waves of anger and dislike flowing off of her. Charity could feel the heat of the Spanish woman’s glare burning over her skin until her eyes were drawn away by Violet’s polite welcome. Charity took a dislike for the woman who did nothing to disguise her condescending attitude toward all that is British.
After the two other men joined their party and introductions were made all around Charity thought only to slip away from the group to give Violet an opportunity to visit with people of her equal. Most of them were ignoring her anyway except she could feel the Duke’s eyes on her now and again but it wasn’t often enough to stop her from putting several paces between them and the open terrace doors behind her.
She listened as Violet and the Duke spoke of mutual friends, of his estate somewhere north of London, Charity hadn’t caught where exactly and then he was escorting her onto the dance floor and she could no longer hear. Charity did hear the low rumble of a growl she assumed came from Maria before the woman pulls one of the gentlemen with her to follow Violet and the Duke into the crowd on the dance floor. The other gentleman hastily retreated leaving Charity alone. Not that she minded overly much but she did wish that she could dance again. She had only been permitted to at a few balls she attended before her life went to hell and she had enjoyed it immensely.
Charity wished more than ever that she had stayed home as the heat and the noise from the crowd was starting to become oppressive. She could feel the cool air from the open terrace doors whisper against her back and she took several small tentative steps in that direction.
∞∞∞
Dane watched over Violet’s shoulder as her cousin slipped out the terrace doors. Briefly he wondered if she should be going out there by herself, a young woman unescorted could end up in all kinds of disastrous results from doing so, much less a woman afflicted with a handicap such as Miss Price who would be totally at the mercy of any man bent on ruination. He didn’t know why he should be concerned he was here to do a job not look after wayward cripples. Yet something told him that Violet would be quite upset with him if he allowed her cousin to come to harm.
“Your cousin, is she the one you were searching for when we last spoke?”
Violet tilted her head to the side, “I’m surprised you remembered, it was such a long time ago.” Violet was one woman who could tease him and it not appear as if she was flirting with him. “But yes Charity is the cousin I grew up with and was separated from when papa sent me off to be married.”
Dane knew that Violet had been forced into a marriage at an early age to a man that was totally unsuitable and that she had been extremely unhappy. Yet whenever she spoke of it there was never any resentment ringing in her voice.
“You did not tell me that she was blind.” He was sure that was something he would remember.
“She wasn’t as a child. I only discovered the truth when I finally found the poor darling. She will not tell me how it happened only that she suffered an accident that stole her eyesight.”
“Where did you come across her?” Dane could see the dark shadows that filled Violet’s blue eyes and though she tried to hide the look of horror on her face he recognized it. He’d seen it on far too many faces.
“She was living with a doctor and his wife.”
Not so bad then he thought, she could have been in lots worse places.
“Before that she was imprisoned in Bedlam.” Her voice cracked on the last word as her eyes filled with bright tears. “She has never spoken of her time there but I can see that it has scared her and I know she has nightmares.”
From stories of the horrific treatment patients endured Dane was amazed she even survived her time there. He shuddered to think what she must have gone through. Mistreatment was ripe there with the women subject to repeated beatings, humiliations and rape. No one would come out of that sort of hell without being scared.
Charity berated herself for being so addle-brained as to wander too far from the terrace. What had she been thinking to be this careless. When she had stepped outside the fresh night air had been such a welcome reprieve from the suffocating heat and nauseating smells of the ballroom that she could not bring herself to step back inside even though she knew that Violet would be looking for her once she returned from the dance floor. She had not intended on going to far when she first stepped off the terrace but the lovely scents of blossoming flowers that drifted to her on the evening breeze had beckoned. Roses, foxglove, orchids and heather were a heady combination that had Charity strolling the many paths of the garden.
Removing her gloves and using her finger tips to guide her she discovered beds filled with native wildflowers and water fountains that sang a gentle lullabies in the cool night air. Lost in her thoughts she forgot to focus on her steps and where they were leading her. With a start she realized that she could no longer hear the music as it filtered out the doors and across the terrace. She stamped down the surge of panic that sent the sting of bile into her throat, telling herself that she must remain calm.
Heart pounding in her chest she tried to recall from which direction she came but with nothing but darkness surrounding her and the lack of sound from the festivities she had no idea where she was. She started to shake all over and the urge to rock was so strong that it was almost pain to resist. Her body was demanding that she run toward safety but she did not know where she would find it. Taking deep gulps of air into her lungs Charity forced herself to remain in control.
She swallowed down the nausea and thought of everything she knew about English gardens. From what she recalled most homes belonging to the rich, their gardens were walled in so there was no fear of her wandering into the streets. Many of the paths were interwinding but always led back to the main house. Unless she found herself in a shrubbery maze which a lot of homes boasted she should be able to find her way back.
Charity had used her sense of touch to get where she was she would just have to rely on it to get her back to the manor house. Inhaling a deep steadying breath she use her toe to find the edge of the path and then with both hands in front she felt for the nearest bush, tree or flower that would give her a starting point. Once she did that she was able to move along the path quite easily.
Charity didn’t know how long she had been searching for the right path. Who knew the Dewaldington gardens were so extensive and confusing, even a sighted person was apt to get lost she thought bitterly. Several times she came to a dead end where she would have to retrace her steps and she was certain her hands were bleeding from the many scrapes and pricks her fingers received. She stopped several times just to listen but all she could hear were the night birds softly crooning and the gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze. Charity always thought that gardens were a place where young lovers escaped to find a few moments alone during soirees such as tonights but the garden seemed to be deserted. Blast it all where was everyone!
Panic was beginning to make itself known again when it seemed as if she was going around in circles. Until she caught the faintest hint of music off to her right. Encouraged she turned down the path she hoped would lead her closer when she distinctly heard the crush of gravel underfoot. The sound came from in front and off the her left.
“Hello,” she called out, “is someone there.” she stopped to listen for an answer but nothing came. There was nothing up stillness for several minutes as she strained to hear and then she could hear the soft tread the steps hesitant and measured as if the person was trying to sneak up on someone or something rather than out for a leisure stroll.
Quickening her pace hoping that whoever it was they could at least point her in the right directions she rounded a corner and slammed into something warm and solid just as a loud retort rang out close to her face. She screamed as the smell of gunpowder burnt her nostrils. Turning, with the intentions of running from whoever it was that she collided with, Charity felt branches from a low lying shrub grabbed at the hem of her gown causing a renting sound just as a steel band of fingers snatched her back.
She heard him snarl and say something under her breath that she did not understand but she did understand the sense of immediate danger. Charity didn’t know why this man would be discharging his firearm but she did know that it could not have been for anything but nefarious reasons. Fearing for her very life she began to struggle against the man’s hold when he suddenly and violently shoved her away where she landed on her bottom among the flowers and shrubbery.
Charity could hear footsteps pounding toward them at a quick pace and her attacker cursed again in a foreign language that sounded familiar before he quickly turned and sped away. In a matter of seconds the first set of footsteps thundered past her charging in the same direction as the attacker went.
Feeling more than distraught Charity struggled to untangle herself from the greenery only to find that her clothing was hopelessly snarled. Sudden images of hands reaching out and holding her down as she struggled for freedom filled her mind. She could hear their cruel laughter and smell their putrid breath as they overpowered her pinning her to the bed. The more she fought the more they tore at her clothes until she was screaming in terror and her cheeks were wet with tears.