Further Than Passion (19 page)

Would he ever reminisce about her?

The answer was surely
no,
which was too depressing, and she lit a candle to ward off her sense of isolation. The flame sputtered and strengthened, and she stripped, then shrugged into her negligee. As she turned to fetch her brush and braid her hair, she was startled.

There, on the center of her dresser, was his signet ring. The sight was too spooky for words, and she picked it up, praying it wasn't real, but it was.

As usual, it seemed to glow and pulse, as if it were alive, as if it were trying to import some message she didn't understand. He'd drunk the potion, too, and he'd subsequently grown so enamored of her, and she wondered whether he possessed something of hers.

The moment the possibility popped into her head, she shook it away. Was she now relying on witches' remedies and ancient superstitions to guide her path?

167

Maybe she should visit the apothecary and purchase some eye-of-newt and bats' wings!

She groaned. How was she to be shed of the accursed bauble?

She slipped it onto her finger, and clutched her fist around it; then she crawled into her bed and ducked under the quilt, hopin
g
—
o
nce more!—
t
hat the ring would have vanished by morning.

₁₂

Pamela stood at the rear of the ballroom, cooling her face with her fan. As it was a masquerade, the attendees' identities were supposed to be a secret, but Pamela knew all of them too well for them to have any anonymity.

Melanie had attired herself as a medieval maiden, and was dancing up a storm with anyone who asked. Her chaperone was absent, so no one was advising her as to appropriate associates, and her mother was too stupid to realize that someone should be screening Melanie's choices.

Regina sat in the opposite corner, dressed as Good Queen Bess, but she was too fat and dour to pull it off with any aplomb. As gluttony was her sole entertainment, she was eatin
g
—
n
o surprise there!—
a
nd Pamela was counting the days till the grim harridan departed.

Pamela looked out across the crowd, trying to keep an eye on Christopher, while wondering how she could persuade him to stay on after his mother left. Since

169

Pamela had an image to maintain, she pretended not to be focused on anyone in particular. It wouldn't do to have stories spreading as to her ena
m
oration. Rumors might be disseminated that she was aging and growing desperate, that she was robbing the cradle, and she refused to have gossip circulating.

Across the way, she espied him escorting his partner down the row. The girl giggled with delight, as others enviously observed them. He was now the male belle of every ball, his charm and attractiveness having won over the fickle members of High Society, which had Pamela jealously gnashing her teeth.

His dancing instructor had been an idiot, so Christopher wasn't very adept at the trickier tunes, and the debutantes had taken him under their collective wings. They garnered significant amusement from showing him the various steps, which, of course, he picked up immediately. As she'd learned of him in her bedchamber, he had a natural athletic grace that lent itself to physical endeavor, so he had the little ninnies fawning and cooing as he whirled them in circles.

Elliot approached, sipping his whiskey and not nearly as foxed as he generally was. Before she could divert her concentration, he recognized at whom she stared.

"You've had quite a trio of houseguests visiting," he commented. "How are you holding up?"

They'd been friends for years, and he was one of the few people with whom she could be frank. "Less than two weeks remaining. There will either be an engagement very shortly or they'll go home."

With his glass, he gestured toward Christopher. "He seems to be a fine boy."

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"Yes, he is, and I'm pleased to announce that he doesn't resemble his mother in the slightest."

"Praise the Lord!" Elliot sarcastically chimed as she smiled.

Regina was the talk of London, with everyone palavering over her. Bets were being waged as to whether she could dupe Stamford into wedding Melanie and, if she could, how long Marcus would last before banishing both females to some godforsaken locale.

"You've developed a certain
interest
in the lad...."

He let the sentence trail off, let the innuendo hang between them, and she was anxious to cut off any speculation. "I'm merely worried about him. In this sea of fortune hunters, any calamity could befall him."

"Too true."

"I wish Stamford would make up his bloody mind."

"What have you heard on that front?" His gaze settled on Melanie. "I'm told he's barely conversed with her."

"With Marcus, I can't begin to predict what his decision will be."

"I've discussed the entire sordid business with Lady Melanie," he shocked her by admitting. "In great detail."

"Really?"

"Yes."

She was amazed that he'd had the opportunity, but then, his cozying up to Melanie was a blatant example of Regina's apathetic parenting. Any sane mother would have chased him off with a stick.

"What does she say?"

"Her mother has convinced her that the match will occur."

"How can she believe it? Stamford's given no hint as to his intentions."

1
7
1

"
Melanie's so sure that she's purchased a love potion."

Pamela sputtered with astonishment. "To use on Stamford? You have to be joking."

"She's bound and determined that he be in love with her before their wedding night, and she has a servant prepared to slip it into his brandy the moment his back is turned."

"Oh for pity's sake. What next!" She rolled her eyes. "Where did she find such a thing?"

"Some apothecary. His shop is in the alley behind that milliner where you buy your hats."

She chortled. Maybe Melanie would accidentally poison Stamford, and put them all out of their misery. It would serve him right for being such an impossible beast!

"Lady Melanie is crazy."

"Very likely," Elliot concurred. "S
o
... what is your estimate as to Stamford's feelings where she's concerned?"

"I haven't a clue, Elliot. This very instant, he could walk in and propose."

"If he's not brought to heel, what would you calculate she'll do?"

"She'll
do
whatever her mother orders. She doesn't have much spine."

He evaluated Melanie, his scrutiny visible and transparent. "Has Regina selected a second choice?"

"God, Elliot, don't tell m
e
—" The notion was so ludicrous that she guffawed.

"Who can foresee what Melanie might be influenced to want for herself?"

"You'd presume it to be you?"

1
72

"You just never know, Pamela." He shrugged. "Anything could happen."

Especially if sh
e
's not cautious, and her mother isn't watching too closely.

The statement rang between them. The social whirl of London was beyond the ability of Melanie or her mother to manipulate with any finesse, and Regina wouldn't take advice, even when it was warranted and politely offered.

Well, Elliot had always been a steadfast companion, and Pamela had no loyalty to the snotty, unrefined brat. If he could wrangle himself a marriage and get his hands on her dowry, more power to him. No one could benefit from the money more than he, and Pamela wasn't about to interfere.

With being so involved in their conversation, she'd lost sight of Christopher, and she rose up on tiptoe to peek through the milling throng. Finally, she spotted him. He was still dancing with the same partner. Pamela didn't recognize her, but although her face was masked
,
it was obvious she was a girl of excellent breeding
.
She moved with a fluid, remarkable grace that equaled Christopher's own. They were poised, elegant, captivating, and as they promenaded down the line, others stopped to stare approvingly.

Christopher was focused on her, gazing at her as if
he
knew who she was. He was transfixed, riveted by her hidden beauty and her lithe, willowy style, and Pamela shifted uneasily. It almost looked as if he was i
n
... in love!

How could such a terrible event have unfolded? Without Pamela being aware of the situation? She kept tabs on him at all hours.

173

This won'
t
do!
she thought, and
s
he excused herself to Elliot and marched toward Regina. Though Pamela avoided Regina as much as she could, it was time the two of them had a blunt talk.

Pamela desired Christopher, and Regina was eager to snag Stamford. If they could strike a satisfactory deal, they could both attain exactly what they wanted.

******************

Much like Cinderella, Selena raced down the stairs of the grand mansion, and she curled her toes in her fancy slippers, to ensure they stayed on her feet.

As she departed, she'd heard the whispers of the guests, endured their curious analysis, even sensed occasional hostility. Everyone was conjecturing as to her identity, but in this crowd, none would ever guess it. There wasn't a member of the
ton
who had an imagination vivid enough.

Her carriage awaited, the footmen Christopher had hired treating her as if she were a princess, and that's precisely how she felt. As she approached, they leapt into action, lowering the step, and opening the door.

She paused to admire the imposing house where she'd attended her first ball. It was so splendid, the windows lit, the orchestra music drifting across the yard. There were couples strolling on the lawn, the women's diamonds glittering under the lanterns.

Before coming to England, she'd assumed her life would be filled with such parties, that she'd fraternize with rich, dazzling people, that she would build the sort of existence upon which her parents had thrived in Italy. But society in London was more restricted, moral tenets more rigorously enforced, and acceptance as an outsider more difficult to finagle. Unfortunately, there

174

was also her financial disaster, which prevented her from procuring the clothes and accessories she needed for an entree.

None of her dreams had become reality, and she'd been upset, but not anymore.

Now that she'd met Kate and Christopher, Selena couldn't be sorry. Destiny had a peculiar way of having everything work out as it should. Her recent trials were mere bumps in the road, brief delays on the path to where she was supposed to be.

She sighed with delight. It was all so fantastic, and she would love Christopher forever for giving her such a magical gift. He'd sent a dress; he'd sent jewelry; he'd sent combs for her hair, and gloves, and a fan, and a lace shawl, and a beaded reticul
e
—
i
tems the most exquisite lady required for an evening on the town.

Edith had wanted to be scandalized by his generosity, but neither of them could think of a reason for Selena to decline. Of late, her affairs had been so dreary, expectations dashed, hopes shattered. Christopher was the lone ray of sunshine she'd encountered, and if Edith had counseled against allowing his largesse, Selena would have ignored her. What was to be gained by refusal?

He'd brought food, wine, and tea. Coal had been delivered and, without his informing Selena, he'd dispensed an envelope of cash to Edith. Their small cadre of servants had been paid, accounts with merchants balanced. It was a magnificent night to be alive!

A footman lifted her in, and she settled herself, being extra careful with the skirt of her new gown. Momentarily, the horses started down the lane, but before

175

rounding the curve, the driver pulled up. There was a cordial salute, male laughter. The door was flung wide, and Christopher was there, as he'd promised he would be.

"Ah, the most beautiful woman at the ball!" he teased. "And she's sitting in my carriage! How lucky I am!"

"Get in her
e
—
b
efore someone sees you!"

As the coach lurched away, she tugged at his jacket, and he tumbled into her. In a tangle of arms and legs, he wound up on the seat, with her on his lap, and he drew off their masks.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he queried. Moonlight shone in, illuminating his bright smile. His golden hair shimmered like a halo, and he was so radiant that she felt as if she were traveling with an angel.