Authors: Blaise Kilgallen
The two men met inside the parlor and shook hands.
“None, Rand, but I need to ask you something rather personal.”
“Very well, Griff, but look here, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet. Will you join me? We can talk about it while we eat. Come inside with me.”
“Glad to.”
The two men chatted briefly as they walked to the breakfast room. Rand dished himself a plate piled with food. Griff added a few slices of ham, a dollop of shirred eggs, and a fresh roll or two while a footman poured each man a steaming cup of strong, brewed coffee.
Rand flapped a cloth serviette open and tucked it under his chin. “I take it this ain’t simply a friendly visit,” he said, sitting down at the table. “So, I think you had best spit it out, hmm?”
“Yes, you’re right. You see, Rand, I noticed something in
The Times
this morning. I’m hoping you can get me an invite to the Burlington’s ball this evening.”
“Eh? Damme if I don’t plan to be there with bells on myself. I daresay, to tell the truth…well, it’s the lovely Desdemona Burlington’s coming out ball. Are you interested in her? God’s teeth, I hope not, because…well, she does come with plenty of coin for a dowry, but she is also a rare beauty. I’m afraid, Griff, that I’m enthralled by her m’self.”
“Not to worry, Rand. You won’t have any competition from me on that score. I’m not interested in marrying the chit. You see, she’s my first cousin.”
Rand’s brows arched high, almost meeting his hairline. “Well, holy hell, that’s good news, I think. Never knew that. You’re related to the Burlingtons? God’s teeth, man, Desi’s…er, Desdemona’s father is one of the wealthiest men in the realm. Blast it! How come you are connected to them?”
“Through my mother, Rand. My mother’s family had no title, not until much later, mind you. My maternal grandfather earned a baronetcy from the Regent. He donated heavily toward Prinny’s architectural aspirations. Not that it did me any good, nor my father either,” Griff grumbled. “Desdemona’s mother is my mother’s youngest sister, my aunt. She married John Burlington, the financier.”
“So he’s your uncle by marriage, then.” Rand mulled over the information and hesitated a bit before he asked, “Why haven’t you been in touch with the family?”
“My family on both sides denounced both me and my father years ago, because of our…shall I say…tarnished reputations.” Griff allowed a weak grin to tighten his lips. “Believe it or not, I’ve changed, Rand. Grown up. Four years in the King’s army taught me a lesson or two I won’t soon forget.”
“Yes, I remember you were always a bit of a bounder as a young lad.” Rand’s lips twitched in a wry smile.
Griff wiped his lips and laid the serviette next to his plate. “Nobody has been in touch with me,” Griff went on. “Especially not my mother’s family. I’ve been written off as bad news. But when I noticed the announcement in this morning’s newspaper, I thought perhaps…”
“Bloody hell,” Rand interrupted, rolled his eyes, and coughed into his hand. “You mean to tell me they don’t know about your, er, diddling with the…wicked countess.”
It was a statement, not a question.
“There’s more, but I’d rather not spell it out to you right now.”
“Your service with Wellington should help you, Griff,” Rand said, “but there is that beastly business you brought here from the Peninsula to London—the perversion accusation.”
“Damnation, Rand, I’m trying to fix that. My fellow officers suggested I present my case before the powers-to-be in Whitehall. But first I’ve got to convince my family that I’m not a complete rotter.”
“I believe you, Griff.”
“I know, old chap, but I never met my uncle. The man has great consequence in the eyes of the government, I believe, because of his wealth and power. Burlington might not deign to even acknowledge me if I show up at my cousin’s ball.”
Rand was silent.
“I don’t wish to douse your chances with my cousin, Rand, but I need help. What do you think? Will you do it? Can you get me an invite?”
Chapter Nineteen
“Where is he, Trent?” Agina asked her lady’s maid, her question clipped and razor-sharp with annoyance. The countess sat before a large mirror attached to the vanity table. The somber-looking servant stood behind her, brushing the countess’s hair.
“I planned to speak to both of them very early,” Agina said pettishly, “and now I learn that Spencer has left the premises.”
“So I was informed, my lady, and he told no one where he was going.”
“Have you asked the footman up front to let us know immediately he returns?”
“Of course. Please don’t fret, my dear.” Trent gently ran fondling fingers over her mistress’s golden tresses, smoothing a slow, sinuous trail over the silken strands, a loving expression on her face as she wielded the soft bristles of the silver-backed hairbrush. “How shall I fix your hair today, dear one?”
When Agina met her maid’s eyes in the mirror, a flow of desire arced between the two women. Both had come from similar beginnings, but during those years, living in the darker world of London’s brothels, they had found each other. When Agina made the leap from commoner to peeress, she brought her lesbian lover with her. Emma Trent’s agile, caring fingers lingered for long moments in Agina’s hair.
“Forgive me, my dearest,” Agina said, turning around on the stool to grasp her maid’s hand, rubbing over the smooth knuckles with a thumb. “I’ve been inattentive lately. ‘Tis this business with Dulcina. I want her and Spencer leg-shackled as soon as it can be arranged. Then, we shall be set for life…together.”
“You know I’d do anything for you, Vagina. You needn’t worry that I won’t help you get it done. The young Trayhern chit has succumbed to the man you chose to deflower her just as we planned. Of course, I put an ear against the dressing room door. The noises emanating from Mr. Spencer’s room last eve assured me the deed was done.” Smiling down at the countess, Trent said, “Everything will be just fine, wait and see, dearest.”
The countess brought the older woman’s hand to her lips and kissed the center of Trent’s palm. “Will you love me later? I’m frazzled, and I need your soothing touch. It’s been too long.”
Tilting her face up toward the hawk-faced maid, Agina looked deep into the servant’s eyes. Trent bent forward and brushed dry lips against the countess’s eager mouth “I will give you whatever you desire and need, my lady love.” She patted Agina’s soft cheek. “You must only ask.”
“Yes, oh yes. I ache for you to fondle me—make love to me. Soon, my love, I shall remain at home instead of going to the Burlington’s ball tonight. Ah, yes, my dearest. We shall spend those splendid hours making love to one another.”
* * * *
Griff rode back to the Eberley mansion slowly. His mind whirled with anticipation concerning the upcoming ball at the mansion on Park Lane. Rand promised to make the introductions as friendly as possible between Griff and his wealthy, middle-aged uncle, John Burlington. If he could get back into his mother’s family’s good graces, using exemplary behavior, perhaps, his need for redemption would carry him through for the rest of his days. He was eager for a new start. He had ambition and drive. Money…not having any to speak of…was his biggest problem. But he would make good use of Dulcie’s dowry when he married her.
If all went well, tomorrow he would scout out his Peninsula officer friends and ask them to accompany him to the Horse Guards at Whitehall. With Rand and the rest backing up his sworn version of the truth, surely the testimonies as to what really occurred on the Peninsula would remove the stigma from his name and his reputation. After that, it was up to him to keep himself stain-free and marry Dulcie.
Griff felt better as he trotted the former earl’s horse onto the Eberley House drive. A groom took the animal, and Griff sprinted to the entrance where a footman swung open the door and allowed him inside. Bender was there waiting to advise him that the countess wanted to see him soon as he returned.
“Inform my aunt I will see her shortly.” Griff took the stairs in twos and headed for his chamber to deposit his hat, gloves, and crop. He poured himself a brandy to calm his nerves for the upcoming encounter with the countess, and, he surmised, with Dulcie. Composing his handsome features, he left to bait the witch in her lair next door.
Agina had already been notified of Griff’s return. “Trent, go fetch my stepdaughter. Make certain she comes here this minute. It’s time she knows what is in store for her.”
Dulcie left Simon behind in her bedchamber, ordering him to be quiet and behave, and followed the cool-faced Trent. Never had she entered the hallowed walls of her stepmother’s drawing room since the short time she spent there with Griff Spencer. Dulcie was aware the elegantly decorated room was used for the countess to hold court for friends and important personages only.
Today Dulcie found Agina ensconced on the upholstered settee behind a large, low, oval Sheraton table. There was no tea tray in front of her, Dulcie noticed. Obviously, she had been summoned here for a reason other than to sip tea. When they entered the drawing room together, Emma Trent made her way to the far side of the room, fading into the background as she seemed always to do. The woman was like a mute watchdog, Dulcie thought. She quite gave her chills.
Focusing her attention elsewhere, Dulcie asked, “Mother? Did you wish to see me about something important?”
“Of course. Everything I say is important. I dare say, even quite urgent. But you will find out soon enough.”
Agina halted her words, her eyes swiveling toward the door opening behind Dulcie. “It’s about time, Griffith,” the countess scolded as he entered. “I expected you to be here before now. You knew I wished to talk with you and…” She aimed her chin at Dulcie. “…my stepdaughter.” She gestured curtly with one bejeweled hand. “But do come in now that’s you’re finally here.”
“I had an errand, Aunt,” Griff replied with what appeared casual aplomb. “I left early this morning. I didn’t expect to see anyone up and round about before noon.” He paused, shutting the door until the latch caught.
His gray eyes searched out Dulcie’s brown ones. She stood a few feet farther inside the room. “How are you feeling today, Lady Dulcina?” he inquired politely.
When their glances meshed, Dulcie saw his honest concern for her showed in his expression.
“I’m fine, Mr. Spencer,” she replied, hiding any unforgiving, raw, or blatant emotions, and any physical aches and pains brought on by the previous evening’s strange and unexpected romp in his bed.
“You two had best forget that false show of propriety right this minute,” the countess snapped in a bluff, almost snide tone. The cutting edge of her voice slashed both young people. “I am fully aware of what went on here last evening while I was out.”
Griff threw another glance at Dulcie, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes a second time.
“I
know
what happened in Spencer’s bedchamber.” She first turned to Dulcie. “You disgraced yourself, did you not? You allowed my nephew to take your maidenhead.”
The countess’s knife-like glare washed over Dulcie. Nevertheless, she maintained her silence, suppressed her excuses. What good would they do? With Trent as her loyal watchdog, her stepmother had obviously been apprised of last night’s debacle.
Dulcie raised her chin a little bit higher and forced herself to remain composed.
Agina didn’t pull her eyes from her stepdaughter’s face. A small twitch of the woman’s ruby lips let Dulcie know there would be additional embarrassment and several more admonitions dumped on her.
“You see,
my dear
,” the countess continued. “I don’t blame Griff.”
I hate it when she uses false terms of endearment to me.
“It pains me, Dulcina, to know you led my nephew on.” Agina turned her head now and speared Griff with one of her haughty looks before focusing again on Dulcie.
Dulcie raged silently.
How dare she put the onus on me?
Her clenched fists hid in the folds of her gown; a liquid rush of animosity swirled through her veins. She would maintain her dignity in the midst of a demoralizing clash with her stepmother, but it wasn’t easy. Dulcie’s mother had taught her politeness and manners at her knee, and Dulcie couldn’t quite forget them even in the presence of her unlikable stepmother. She steeled herself not to flinch or deny the woman’s falsehoods.
“Men are ruled by lust. They are weak and will take what they can from a woman. Nevertheless, I blame you, Dulcina.”
Gliding out of the shadowy area behind the countess, Trent walked forward and held out the stained sheet in her hands like a trophy.
“To my mind, you were always a bit too stubborn and disobedient. Your father let you get your own way, which was very wrong. Perhaps marrying my nephew will cool you down.”
Agina now pivoted her attention to Griff. “So you see, nephew, there’s only one thing to be done. You, Griffith, will marry my stepdaughter posthaste. You will procure a special license from the archbishop. The wedding will take place by next week.”
There was a minute of dead silence in the room. Only the hissing and crackling of the flames in the fireplace made any noise.
Dulcie was the first to speak. “No. No, I say, Mother. Y-you can’t make me marry anyone if I don’t choose to.”
“Mind your childish tongue, Dulcina. Your father made me your legal guardian. Therefore, you will do what I tell you—and without argument. Do you hear me?”
Dulcie suddenly realized that a quick marriage between her and Griffith Spencer had been planned from the beginning. Why else would the countess leave them alone without a suitable chaperon and go off for hours? No parent in the closed society that made up London’s
ton
would do such a thing; especially leaving unmarried relatives of the opposite sex together, living under the same roof, to become entangled in something unlikely or sordid.
Griff’s arrival from India and her own sudden summons from Surrey seemed much too coincidental. Her stepmother must have arranged the false scenario, and she, naïve fool that she was, stumbled unknowingly into it.
Why couldn’t she simply send me back to the country to rusticate, away from the curious eyes of the ton
?
There I was content with my walks and my dog. Why is it so urgent that I rush into marriage now?
Just because the countess wants me wed? Oh! How fortunate of me to figure this out before plunging into wedlock
I almost
felt myself falling in love with Mr. Spencer.