Kathryn Caskie (21 page)

“I’m bein’ as careful as I’m able, I swear it. But I have to use hairpins, Miss Hannah . . . though I suppose I could try to mix up some sort of horse-hoof paste and use it to fasten the sparkles—might have a bit of sour odor though. Still, what with all those fancy folk at the ball, I doubt anyone would know the smell was comin’ from you.” Annie twisted a coil of Hannah’s hair and pinned it securely atop her head.

“Ouch!” Hannah squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment. “The pins will suffice, Annie. Do carry on . . . only perhaps you shouldn’t use so many brilliants.”

“What? Why, I plan to use every last one. I always say, a lady can never be too sparkly. Men like that sort of thing, they do.”

“I am sure you are quite right.” Hannah looked into the mirror’s reflection at the nearly full bowl of paste-jewel-headed pins and cringed. “Only, the dress is so beautiful I do not wish to draw attention away from it.”

Annie looked over her shoulder at the shimmering blue-and-silver dress spread out atop the bed. She nodded then. “I see what you mean, miss. Maybe only a half dozen more. That ought to be just enough.” She turned back and looked down at Hannah. “If you don’t mind my sayin’ so, if your head is still painin’ you, perhaps you should to stay home this eve.”

“I wish that were an option, Annie. But I have several matches to orchestrate this night, and it matters not how horridly my head pounds.” Yes, there was no escape for Hannah. Why, she could be leaking blood from her ears, and still she would be obliged to attend the Grand Celestial Ball that eve.

She only hoped she would not cross orbits with Mr. St. Albans. Or that blasted
on dit
columnist, Mr. Lestrange. She had enough worries on her mind.

Garnet stared at Griffin with marked incredulity. “How could you possibly expect that I would forgo the ball? Why, I had a waistcoat fashioned just for the occasion—midnight blue shot with sterling threads. Spectacular.”

“’Tis just a waistcoat, Garnet.” Despite his exasperation with his brother, Griffin held the tone of his voice level. Garnet loved a party, and even more, a ball where he could dress in finery and ply his rakish skills on the ladies for amusement. Griffin knew his brother’s penchant for entertainment, whatever form it might take, and did not begrudge him this. It was part of who Garnet was.

But this time it was different. This time he needed Garnet to put aside his own pleasure.

“But, Griff, it is the last formal event before your bloody comet streaks through the city and puts an end to all the merriment.”

“The earl asked me to attend in an effort to mend Miss Chillton’s heart. So I am asking you, please do not attend this eve. I cannot correct her misinformed impressions of me if you and Miss Howard are whirling around the ballroom floor together.”

Garnet opened a new bottle of spirits and poured himself a generous crystal of brandy. He glanced back at Griffin, who stood behind him, through narrowed, distrustful eyes.

His stubborn brother was not going to make this an easy task. Griffin knew he had a battle before him.

Before turning around, Garnet held the full glass directly before the candle and checked the color and clarity of the brandy. “Perfect,” he murmured. A false smile played at Garnet’s lips when he faced Griffin . . . and handed him the glass. “Drink this, for certainly you are not in your right mind.”

Griffin waved the crystal away. “I am, brother.”

Garnet sighed as he drew back the glass, wasting no time in tipping its rim to his lips and sipping the fine brandy. “I do not agree, for if you were, you would be bent over your charts and scribbles this very moment instead of trying to convince me to disappoint my lady.”

He walked to the hearth and leaned his elbow on the mantel. “The comet will arrive in the early hours tomorrow . . . tonight, by my way of thinking. You should be preparing your scopes if you truly wish to leave for London with Miss Herschel—though it is truly Greenwich, is it not? Think of your future, man.”

“I am thinking of my future, which is why I am asking you to forgo the ball this eve.” Anger seethed through Griffin, and he took a hard step toward his brother. But he stopped short. This wasn’t the way to make Garnet understand. “Damn it, Garnet, do you not see? This is very likely my last chance with Miss Chillton—to help her believe that my love for her is true.”

“Love?
Love?
” Garnet forced a sharp laugh, one that sent a chill coursing over Griffin’s skin. “Is that your
real
reason, brother? Or have you been conversing with the earl? Perhaps he has made you believe that
you
are far more deserving and should be named heir.” Garnet’s voice grew thinner, and his features hardened in a way Griffin had never seen before. “I already know he does not care for Miss Howard. He has not kept his feelings a secret. Even came up with some nonsensical tale that she is much older than she pretends.”

Griffin grabbed his brother’s shoulders. “How could you ask me such a thing? I have no interest in becoming earl—never have. I came to Bath, on this supposed quest for a bride, for two reasons only: because Miss Chillton was here and because of the comet. A chance to become an earl holds no allure for me. It is not my dream. But Miss Herschel’s offer for a position with the Royal Society is.”

Garnet pulled away and refilled his glass to the brim. Trickles of brandy spilled over the side and onto the polished tabletop, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Then why are you willing to risk your dream, risk it all, by attending the ball this eve?”

Griffin dragged a thin breath through his teeth. “Because there is one thing in this world that is more important to me than the appointment—
Hannah
. I cannot leave Bath, even for the sake of a royal appointment, without knowing that I did everything in my power to win back her heart.” Griffin cast his gaze to the wooden floor. “Garnet, I am asking you this as my brother. Do this for me.”

Garnet straightened and silently walked past Griffin as he headed for the passage. He stopped at the doorway, rested his hand on the doorjamb, and looked over his shoulder at Griffin. “Last week, Miss Howard sent word to her father of my intentions to marry her. He left Dover at once and should arrive this eve after the tea interval at the ball. I have arranged with Miss Howard to be there to greet him and her mother.”

“What are you saying, Garnet?”

“Just that I will do as you ask—in part. I will attend only the second half of the Grand Celestial Ball. But I must warn you, Griffin, if you are still present at the ball after the tea interval, there will be
two
Mr. St. Albans at the Upper Assembly Rooms—and both of our futures, as the earl so enjoys putting it, will be in jeopardy.”

“Lady Letitia!” came a gentleman’s voice from across the ballroom, startling the two Featherton sisters and, indeed, Hannah as well.

The dancers had just aligned themselves for the first set, when the Earl of Devonsfield’s plump, squat body barreled through their midst in order to reach Lady Letitia.

Miss Herschel, who stood between the two elderly sisters, leaned close to Lady Viola. “Is that . . . ? No, my eyes must fail me.”

Lady Viola dug into her reticule and withdrew her mother-of-pearl lorgnette.

She snapped it open with a skilled flick of the wrist and peered through it at the gentleman charging toward them, followed by a lean man all dressed in black. “No, no, they do not. ’Tis the Earl of Devonsfield . . . and his man, Pinkerton, headed our way.”

“Though I resided here a good many years, until this very visit, I had always thought Bath a most dull and dreary city.” Miss Herschel, who was dressed in a gown as somber as her statement, chuckled. “I wonder now if I was merely traveling in the wrong circles.”

Hannah cupped her gloved hand over her mouth to suppress a grin, for it was she who had supplied Miss Herschel’s recent amusement.

The crowd at the perimeter of the floor stared, and some chuckled at the unseemly outburst from the country lord—but Lady Letitia only smiled as the earl trotted up before her.

“Lady Letitia,” he practically gasped, the air in his lungs obviously depleted after his jog across the expansive ballroom floor. “I am dreadfully sorry that I am late.”

“Late?” Confusion was clear on Lady Letitia’s round face, sending her brows migrating toward the bridge of her nose like two plump white caterpillars. “What ever do you mean? My lord, you are perfectly punctual. The first set is about to begin.”

The earl’s expression brightened. “Then, might I have this dance?”

“Oh . . . well, I only meant . . . heavens, I haven’t truly danced in years.”

Hannah could only smile when she saw a deep blush crest the old woman’s powdered and rouged cheeks, as the earl led Letitia to the floor and took her hand in preparation for the dance.

Opening her reticule, Hannah removed her miniature book of notes and pencil nub and drew a thick line through the third stratagem listed beneath Lady Letitia’s name.

First was her pairing of her with the earl at the gathering in honor of Miss Herschel. Second was joining the two for the oration at the Octagon. Third was the note Hannah had had delivered to the earl, professing Lady Letitia’s deep affection.

Forging the missive had been wicked, she knew, but it had had the desired effect. Lady Letitia and the earl were gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they danced—albeit a little wobbly—the first set at the Grand Celestial Ball.

Hannah felt rather proud of herself at the moment, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the pain in her head was subsiding just a little.

At least she thought so, until she saw Griffin near the doorway, standing shoulders above all, scanning the ballroom. With a gasp, she whirled around, only to find herself peering down at Mr. Hercule Lestrange.

Her head began to throb mightily.

“Miss Chillton. Such a pleasure meeting you this eve.” The little man drew back his leg and graced her with a regal bow.

This time, he was dressed like a lord of the realm. His neckcloth was expertly tied, and his coat and waistcoat were of the finest dark blue kerseymere, simply yet elegantly cut.

He wore no watch, or any metal at all. Even his buttons were covered smartly with cloth. Were it not for his unique stature, Mr. Hercule Lestrange would have simply blended in among the other guests . . . which Hannah guessed was his purpose this eve.

Hannah dropped Mr. Lestrange a distracted curtsy as she caught sight of Miss Herschel standing with Lady Viola just to her left. True, they were years apart, but Miss Herschel was most intelligent and diverting. And besides, she had no other option, had she?

And so, Hannah stepped quickly to the side, placing her hand on Mr. Lestrange’s shoulder and turning him so he was nearly face-to- face with the diminutive Miss Herschel.

Lady Viola flashed Hannah a warning glance, but being the well-mannered woman she was, formally introduced Miss Herschel to Mr. Lestrange.

“My dear Miss Herschel. I must confess, I have sought to make your acquaintance since the moment I first heard you speak at the Octagon.”

Miss Herschel tipped her head graciously. She stepped closer to him. “And I have become an avid reader of your column, sir, since I have come to Bath most recently.”

Mr. Lestrange’s already large eyes seemed to double in size.

Miss Herschel laughed, then lowered her voice farther. “Do not be so surprised that your secret identity is known to me. I do have my own connections, you know.”

Mr. Lestrange looked immediately to Lady Viola, who feigned a sudden coughing fit and excused herself from the circle of conversation.

This was just the sort of moment Hannah had been waiting for. She raised her hand in the direction Lady Viola had headed and excused herself to see to the old woman’s well-being.

Hannah merged with a passing collective of matrons, and within a few ticks of a minute hand, she had escaped Mr. Lestrange entirely.

The second dance of the set was about to begin. A dart of uneasiness scraped over her skin. She had strategy to put into motion, and her delay with Mr. Lestrange had cost her vital time.

Hannah drew open the cinch of her reticule and had just touched her book of notes with the tips of her fingers when a large hand grasped her upper arm.

Her lids shot open, and she turned her eyes upward, knowing already who she would see.

Griffin
.

“Hannah.”

At once she tried to pull away, but he drew her closer still. He took her hand and placed it around his arm, then he pinioned her own arm against him.

“I will not let go. Not this time. Not until you hear what I have to say.”

“I shall scream.” Hannah raised her chin as he pulled her toward the center of the ballroom. “Then you will free me.”

“I seriously doubt you would do that. Everyone would look, and you would no longer be able to hide.”

“Mayhap, I was hiding from
you,
Mr. St. Albans.”

Griffin smiled down at her. “Had that been your intent, you certainly would have detected my approach. And yet, you did not.” As his last words left his mouth, he turned Hannah into the line of dancers awaiting the start of the next dance. “Now, I need you to listen to me.”

Hannah shook her head furiously and broke from his grip. She had not taken two steps when she was confronted by Lady Viola, who, for such a bone-thin old woman, possessed a surprisingly strong grip herself.

“Hannah, listen to Mr. St. Albans.” Something in Lady Viola’s eyes conveyed her seriousness in this matter. “There is something you must know.”

“But I cannot,” Hannah objected. “I have no less than four strategies to begin.”

“No, you do not.” Griffin had moved beside her. “Does, she, Lady Viola?”

A grand flush crept up from the old woman’s bodice and up her wrinkled neck. Only the thick coating of powder and rouge prevented the fierce red color from extending to her thin face.

“Lady Viola? What does he mean? What have you done?” Hannah looked from the old woman’s downcast gaze to Griffin’s vibrant green eyes. “Well, will someone please explain?”

Lady Viola cleared her throat softly, then raised her eyes to Hannah. “The earl, sister, and I thought it imperative that you hear out young Mr. St. Albans. For you, I fear, are judging him most unfairly.”