Lorelie Brown (26 page)

How very backwards the world seemed occasionally.

She smiled. She smiled the best she could as long as she could as she made her way through the packed morass of bodies. From the stairs, she’d spotted Sera and Victoria standing toward the head of the room. They were waiting, and they would be her salvation.

Indeed, when she finally made it to them, Lottie felt her smile waver. Sera took her by the hand and squeezed. “You look unwell.” Her big brown eyes were steady and comforting.

Lottie returned the squeeze. “Father is home.”

Victoria passed over a flute of champagne. They stood shoulder to should and turned to look out toward the majority of the ball’s attendees. Unfortunately their average height meant they saw only those near and encircling them in a wall of silk and lace and beading. Lottie swallowed half the glass of bubbling champagne.

“Isn’t that better sometimes?” Victoria kept her voice relatively soft.

“Sometimes.” There went the rest of the pale liquid, fizzling down her throat. “He hasn’t been home long enough for me to talk with him. I was already getting dressed for the evening.”

She might be the worst, most shallow daughter in the world, but her one thought when the maid had announced Lord Vale’s homecoming had been selfish regret. Her father’s return meant having Ian into her bedroom would be nearly impossible. She smiled at a gentleman who passed by. Obviously he had no idea that she was such a terrible daughter.

She should have been happy for her mother. When she was overly excited, sometimes Mama couldn’t be bothered with Papa, but she always liked having him when she felt saddened.

Instead, all Lottie could think was that she wouldn’t be able to hold Ian tonight. She wouldn’t be able to feel him inside her. Or talk in soft whispers between the burning fires they lit together.

“Is there any more of this?” she asked, waving her empty glass.

Sera passed hers over. “Here.”

“Thank you, lovey.”

“You’re not worried about Henrietta Heald, are you?” Victoria’s brows rose.

“Certainly not.” She was worried about Etta’s brother, the great, gangly lummox. Who entirely did not deserve such condemnation.

When she wanted him so desperately, it seemed rather all or nothing. He had said nothing about the future. She couldn’t blame him. His entire purpose in hunting down Patricia was about creating a future for his family, which his father had fought hard for. Lottie’s whole world was about compensating for her lack of a future. She’d not have children, so she’d create a whole school of daughters. She wasn’t blind. She knew that was part of her reality.

But that didn’t mean she could give them up either.

“She was certainly pleasant the other day.” The trio had joined Henrietta and her mother for tea at their rented townhouse, in order to acquaint them with Sera and Victoria. Sera was always so graceful and kind. It was one of those things that Lottie loved about her.

But she also heard what wasn’t said. That Lady Vale was often less than pleasant. Lottie was saved by the announcement of Sir Ian and his small family. “Smile, ladies. They’re here.”

They met Henrietta in the middle of the ballroom, making a happy and unavoidable knot of womanhood. Lottie held out both hands to Henrietta as if greeting a long-lost friend, dramatically enough that all would take note. Indeed, she did like the girl. She particularly liked the honesty in her face and the way she lit up. “Miss Heald. It’s so very good to see you.”

“And I the same.” She took both of Lottie’s hands and gave a small curtsy toward Victoria, then nodded toward Sera. “Lady Victoria, Mrs. Fletcher. It’s a relief to have friendly faces in such a crowd.”

Ian stood behind her. “Ladies. I’m much relieved that my sister is privileged to enjoy such lofty friends.”

Lottie smiled. Really she wanted to throw her arms around Ian and beg him to take her away from the crowd, from the eyes that watched her without watching. So very public, and she was so very tired of it. They were working society’s strictures to their advantage.

They’d arranged this greeting in an open manner, designed to garner the most attention. In a moment they’d take Henrietta over to meet their host. Lady Marvell would be instantly smitten with Henrietta’s charm and openness. Combined with her friendly good looks, she’d instantly be an accepted member of society. She’d go about making friends as she seemed to do without thinking.

All of it the truth and all of it manipulated in a most base manner to go marvelously according to plan. Lady Marvell loved Henrietta, of course. Positively beamed at her when Henrietta complimented the particular arrangement of flowers at the lady’s elbow. Naturally it turned out that Lady Marvell had arranged them herself and gone against her friend’s advice to do so.

“See there?” she crowed, turning to the Marchioness of Ashbury. “She’s a girl with lovely and remarkable taste.”

Marchioness Starr cut her eyes toward the ceiling. She fluttered her fan made of white fluffy feathers. “As you like. But you’re still wrong.”

Lottie smiled as she snuck away toward the refreshment table. Everything was working as she’d hoped.

“Should you have abandoned her so quickly?”

She gathered up a glass of champagne and kept walking as if Ian at her side hadn’t made her heart leap. “It’s best I leave her to Victoria’s clutches. She’s impeccable.”

He looked handsome in evening clothes and fairly pleased with himself. He kept his hands loosely folded behind his back. “You’ve done a good thing tonight.”

“I know.” She had a bit of self-satisfaction going on as well. Her chin lifted. “It’s a good night altogether, I believe. Finna remembered a clerk Patricia was interested in. He’d even slipped her funds last time. I sent him a note, and he intends to come to our next event. We’ll have a good chance at catching her.”

Ian smiled with a hefty measure of satisfaction. “That’s the makings of a good night indeed.”

Except the next time they shifted around a knot of people, it became entirely less so. Her father stood there, which was well enough. She’d missed him. He was relatively handsome, though tired-looking. Deep bags sagged under his eyes and pushed his cheeks into hanging jowls adorned with wiry muttonchops.

“Papa,” she said, and she could hear the uncomfortable edge in her voice. After all, she knew the man at his side as well. “And Lord Cameron.”

Lord Cameron, her father’s most harped-upon choice for marrying her off. He owned the estate next to theirs in Derbyshire, but it was actually the smallest of Lord Cameron’s properties. He also owned estates in Kent, a townhouse in London and a villa in Italy. If it didn’t come with the man, Lottie rather thought she might enjoy an Italian villa.

Her papa preferred men who invested in land. He said it demonstrated a belief in the future of England.

“Miss Vale,” said Lord Cameron. He had dark brown hair with fat curls. “It’s lovely to see you again.”

Lottie wanted to melt through the floor. Her throat clenched in a sickly fist. But she managed to smile as always, and it certainly seemed as if her father accepted it as true. He beamed back at her. “Lottie.” He pressed one flat hand to her shoulders. “You look lovely.”

She felt like hell. “I sent for you five days ago,” she said quietly. She was shaking, all the way through. If it got any worse, her knees might give way. “Five days ago.”

Lord Cameron had the grace to look away across the room toward the dancing couples. Ian stepped nearer to her. Quiet support, she supposed. She hardly knew what to do about that.

Her papa only nodded. “I had a bit of business to attend to. Then Lord Cameron couldn’t come to town until today.”

“Mama needed you.”
She
had needed him through all these years, all these times. Her hands knotted into fists. Pure fury turned her guts into flame.

“It was an inevitable delay. But look!” He put out a hand toward Lord Cameron. “Surely it’s worth it when we’ve such illustrious company.”

Lord Cameron nodded. “I can speak for no one else, but I count myself lucky to be in your company.”

“As we all are,” Ian supplied.

Her father gave Ian a dubious look. How dare he? It wasn’t as if he’d been around to pass judgment on her acquaintances. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve had plenty to keep yourself occupied.” He nodded at Lord Cameron, his head bobbing along like an apple on a string. “She has many productive hobbies. Would you guess, Lottie here runs a lovely little charity devoted to the betterment of factory girls and other less fortunate souls.”

“How righteous of her,” he agreed. His curls fluttered in an errant breeze, which made no sense because Lottie felt smothered. Like all the air in the room was being sucked away.

Maybe she looked as ill as she felt, because Ian put his hand low on her back in a move that was both reassuring and nearly inappropriate. “Miss Vale, I believe I see your friends waving from across the room. Perhaps you’d like me to accompany you there?”

How kind of him to lie. Really, it was likely unfortunate, because all he’d done was give her a terrible idea. A horrible, awful, incredibly brilliant idea grew and grew in her mind.

She smiled. Her bones were brittle and her cries held back by pure will. Her smile grew into a grin. She ignored Ian’s attempt at escape and looked at her father. “You’re right, of course. Mama didn’t need you and I certainly didn’t. After all, I was fully occupied. Making torrid, steamy love with Sir Ian every night has kept me…fulfilled.”

For a long, heart-stopping moment, Ian thought he’d heard her wrong. She couldn’t possibly have said that. Lottie was wild and she was somewhat reckless, but he’d believed that a matter of self-protection. She was showy in order to deflect.

Not in order to set silence rippling away from their tiny knot of people, like the circles that waved outward from a pebble dropped in a pond. Lord Vale’s mouth dropped open before he gave a tiny shake of his head as if trying to rid himself of what he’d heard.

Lord Cameron was amused. His eyebrows lifted, and his entire body canted slightly toward Lottie. “Pardon?”

Then she apparently decided to throw a boulder in the pond.

“Intercourse. Sexual congress.” She smiled, looking around at the silent crowd doing their utmost to pretend they weren’t actually listening while straining their ears toward every word. Not that Lottie was making it particularly challenging. She spoke in a voice as clear as a bell and as bright as when she’d been addressing a dozen of her girls. “A handful of times. I should have liked to experience more, but such matters are surprisingly difficult to schedule.”

Ian’s first instinct was to roar and fight. His blood raged in his ears. Extra emotion zinged down his limbs and fisted his hands. There was nowhere for that force to go. Certainly not toward Lottie, though she was the orchestrator of this sudden and unfortunate turn of events. “Lottie…”

She smiled at him. “I’m sorry, I did know you wished these things to be quiet. You understand, Father has a recent desire that I marry. And you do know my views on the subject.”

“Pardon?” Lottie’s father said in a rather befuddled tone. “You can’t possibly mean… You and this man…”

She shrugged, then lifted her champagne glass toward the chandelier and peered at it. Maybe she wished for more. Maybe, if she had a scrap of the sense that the Lord had given her, she was wishing she hadn’t had quite so many glasses. “I’m sorry. It’s a bit gauche of me, isn’t it? Probably on par with refusing to come home when your wife is in a time of
need
. When she’s
ill
.”

Lord Vale heard those words, that much was clear. His face flushed red enough that his cheeks were scarlet apples. “Your mother is perfectly well cared for.”

“And me?” Lottie slashed out with her husky voice. A new rigidity took over her normally relaxed posture. She looked like she could break if given the slightest nudge. “Am I well cared for?”

“Obviously not, if you’ve let yourself turn into a whore.”

“Maybe you should have been here. Then it would be
you
letting me turn into a whore. Raising myself has certain drawbacks, after all.”

That was it. The freeze that had held Ian still cracked away into a thousand splinters. “Go. Now.”

He didn’t give Lottie a choice. He hauled her away by the wrist. She went along, but he couldn’t tell if it was willingly. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. Not like he was giving her much of an option—exactly as she’d stripped away most of his options.

They waded through the partygoers. A wade it was, as well, because everyone looked. Watched. Their eyes judgmental, their mouths set in displeased frowns and open gasps—except for those taking perverse pleasure in the scene evinced before them. Heads tilted together behind fans.

The whispering was beginning.

On their exodus, Ian spotted Etta. Lottie’s friends Sera and Victoria flanked her. Though her features were drawn and ghost pale, she waved him on.
Go
, she mouthed. Victoria put a hand on her shoulder and nodded toward Ian.

At least Lottie’s friends were sensible, though she’d lost every scrap of rational thought she’d ever possessed.

The heavens smiled down on him in small ways. His carriage waited outside. He shoved her in, not looking at her face. He couldn’t. If she appeared the littlest bit amused by her ridiculous stunt, he’d lose his temper unbearably. He snapped directions at the footman and slammed the door shut. It rattled in the frame with less-than-satisfactory solidity.