Mastering the Marquess (14 page)

“But I can't see a thing without my glasses!” she cried as he led her away.

“You won't need to,” Trask growled in reply. He pulled her into his arms and swept her down the length of the ballroom.

“I say, Miss Annabel, since we can't waltz, perhaps you would care for a stroll around the room?” Robert gallantly offered his arm to his cousin.

“Oh, that would be most refreshing!” Annabel blew her sister a kiss and strolled off with Robert in search of entertainment.

Silverton switched his attention back to Meredith. She stared longingly at the dancers as they circled the floor in a swirl of shimmering fabrics and glittering jewels. A small, wistful sigh escaped her lips. Suddenly, he couldn't stand it a minute longer. He had to hold her now or he would surely go mad.

He gently slid his gloved hand down Meredith's arm and took her hand. She shivered at his touch.

“Lord Silverton,” she began, but her voice trailed off when she saw the expression on his face. For a long moment she gazed at him, her breath escaping much too quickly from between parted lips.

“Miss Burnley.” He smiled down at her as he held her hand in a possessive grip. “May I have the honor of this waltz?”

Her mouth dropped open with unladylike surprise. Silverton wanted to laugh; he seemed to have a knack for making her forget her manners. But his amusement faded as her pink tongue slipped out and dampened her lower lip with a nervous flick.

“I . . . I . . . ,” she stammered, her eyes jumping around the room.

Nigel, who had been leaning idly against the wall, straightened up. Concern replaced the usual good-natured expression on his face.

“Stephen, old man,” he began.

Silverton just looked at him, and Nigel's next words died on his lips. Silverton turned back to Meredith, whose entire body seemed rigid with tension.

“Well, Miss Burnley, shall we throw caution to the winds?” He smiled coaxingly at her. “How bad can it be? After all, you are no green debutante like your sister.”

Something vivid flashed in her eyes, an expression that almost looked like pain. Her chin tilted up, and for a charged moment she met his gaze with what he could have sworn was defiance. But then her face softened with longing and a sweet vulnerability that made his heart thump in his chest. Her lips trembled into a dazzling smile as she stepped confidently into his arms.

His body blazed to life at the touch of her silky warmth, and he pulled her against him as he circled smoothly through the first turn. She breathed a small but voluptuous sigh of satisfaction, her eyes dreamy and unfocussed as she allowed herself to relax into the dance. Everything faded away but the sensations of holding her so closely—the soft swish of her gown as it wrapped itself around his legs, and the gentle pressure of her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

Without warning, Silverton had a vision of that slender hand curled tightly around his neck, her naked body lying beneath him in the huge mahogany bed at his estate in Kent.

He blinked in surprise. Of course, it was entirely reasonable he should be having lurid fantasies about Meredith. But what startled him was the absolute clarity of that image of her in the family's venerable old marriage bed.

Right then and there, Silverton knew he could never marry Annabel, no matter what Aunt Georgina might have to say about it.

He inhaled a sharp breath. Meredith looked up, her eyebrows raised in an unspoken question. Silverton realized he was holding her much too tightly, so he eased his grip as they swept slowly down the room. He searched for an innocuous comment to break the physical tension building relentlessly inside him.

As they rotated through a turn at the bottom of the room, he caught a glimpse of Annabel leaning on Robert's arm, laughing gaily as she looked up into the young man's face. Meredith followed the direction of his gaze.

“Annabel is having a wonderful time,” she exclaimed. “I have never seen her as animated as she is tonight.”

Silverton stared at his two cousins as they strolled through the crowd. How odd that he'd never really noticed before how happy Annabel and Robert were in each other's company. In fact, they seemed to positively sparkle with life whenever they were together.

“So is Robert,” he replied thoughtfully. “It's funny, but whenever he's with Annabel he acts as if he's been knocked on the head. What little wit he has seems to pour straight out of his ears and onto the floor.”

An arrested expression crossed Meredith's face, as if the thought had never occurred to her. She twisted around in his arms to stare at the young couple before looking up at him doubtfully.

“Truly?”

He nodded solemnly as he struggled to keep the smile off his face. “Dicked in the nob, poor boy. I begin to suspect that he is completely mad for your sister. Don't forget, she did convince him to milk a cow.”

A great surge of relief coursed through him as he realized that Robert just might be the solution to Annabel's problem of finding a husband. After all, one cousin might do just as well as the other.

Meredith looked shocked, but then she tilted her head back and broke into laughter. She had a full, throaty laugh—not the simpering titter of a nervous miss—and he gloried in the husky sensuality of her response. Several heads swiveled to look at them, but Silverton didn't care. He tightened his arms around her as he swung her into the final turn of the waltz.

As the music ended, he brought her to a gentle halt. Her cheeks were flushed with exertion, and her eyes sparkled with an enjoyment he rarely saw in her. He slipped her hand through his arm and escorted her back to where her sister stood with Robert. Annabel chatted with Sophia and her mother, who had just joined them. Nigel was also there, engaged in a whispered conversation with Trask, who glanced at Silverton with a startled expression on his dark face.

“Oh, my dears, there you are!” exclaimed Mrs. Stanton. “I didn't realize you were waltzing. I must say, Stephen, you surprise me.”

Robert and Sophia's mother was both doting and kind, and she readily extended her affection to her children's friends. At her gentle admonition, a look of dismay dimmed Meredith's happy expression.

“The fault was mine, Aunt Agnes,” Silverton interjected smoothly. “You know that I can never resist a waltz.”

“That's right, Mama,” Robert agreed hastily. “No point in making a fuss about it.”

“Oh, my dear children,” Mrs. Stanton protested. “I wouldn't dream of making a fuss! It's just that . . . well, never mind. It's time for supper, and we really should be going down if we wish to secure a table. Lady Framingham always invites so many people that it's a miracle we don't all get trampled underfoot.”

They moved through the crush of bodies toward the doors leading to the supper room. Meredith and Annabel, who had linked arms, were suddenly jostled by the crowd and pressed against an older gentleman and his companion, a formidable-looking woman with a severe expression on her face. Silverton froze in his tracks when he realized the woman was Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, the coldest and most judgmental of the patronesses of Almack's.

“Oh, I beg your pardon!” Meredith smiled at the stern-faced woman. “I do hope I didn't step on your foot.”

The gentleman seemed about to reassure her when Mrs. Drummond-Burrell's piercing voice rang out clearly above the chattering throng.

“Such manners! I really wonder what the world is coming to when the Countess of Framingham allows a vulgar shopgirl to attend an affair like this. Whatever could be next, I wonder? I vow, I do not understand how General Stanton can bear to have the forward creature in his house.”

The crowd around them fell silent. Then someone laughed, and the chattering resumed at an even louder pitch as the callous remark passed quickly around the room. Silverton's lips drew back in a snarl, and he began to push his way through the mob toward Meredith. She and Annabel were stricken into immobility, their faces pale with astonishment and wounded pride.

Silverton looked at Mrs. Drummond-Burrell's cruel, self-satisfied expression and wanted to kill her. The intention must have been evident on his face because Trask suddenly materialized by his side and grabbed his arm.

“Try not to be a complete fool,” his friend hissed in his ear. “You've done enough damage for one evening. Let Nigel and Robert take the girls to supper and we'll follow behind.”

Nigel gently took Meredith's arm and led her away, conversing cheerfully as he hurried her through the supper-room doors. Annabel followed behind, Robert and Sophia flanking her in a protective stance.

Trask gave Silverton's arm one last warning squeeze before releasing him.

“Well, old man, shall we follow the ladies down?” the earl enquired in a jovial voice, as if nothing had happened, as if Meredith's world had not just come crashing down around her ears.

Silverton's eyes swept the crowd. He could already see and hear the malicious gossip cresting like a foul wave. There was no choice but to ride it out. Later, when the black rage in his head had subsided, he would figure out exactly how to bring Meredith and Annabel back to safe harbor.

Returning Trask's steady gaze, Silverton forced himself to adopt the attitude of cool self-possession that had served him so well during his years in the haute ton.

“Lead on, my dear Trask,” he said calmly. “Lead on.”

Meredith was blind, deaf, and dumb. The noise, the suffocating press of people, the chaotic colors that swirled around her, all faded away into a gray and soundless fog. The only thing she could hear was the beating of her heart as it pushed the blood through her veins in an angry, hectic surge.

When she had seen the look of shock in Annabel's eyes, seen her turn pale as if she had been struck, Meredith had experienced a flash of rage so strong it had made her dizzy.

Lady Stanton had warned her. She had told her the ton would be callous, that nothing pleased them more than the cold barbs and destructive gossip that seemed as necessary to their existence as food and drink. But until she had heard the cruelly uttered words drop like venom from the lips of the stern-looking woman, she had never understood it for herself.

Perhaps she and Annabel had been too sheltered. Everyone they had met so far had been, if not kind, then at least correct and courteous. She realized now that it was for Lady Stanton's sake she had been treated so carefully. It had all been a polite ruse, and the first time they had ventured out without the older woman's protection their hopeful little fantasy had been sliced apart with the precision of a stiletto blade.

Her fantasy, at least, if not Annabel's. What a fool she had been to allow Lady Stanton to convince her to come here tonight.

As cruel as these people were, what stung her most was that the evening's debacle was her own fault. She had let her guard down. Meredith had permitted herself to be lulled by the beauty and gaiety of the evening, and by the deceptive charm of the magnificent surroundings.

Worst of all, she had let
him
lure her in. For one glorious moment, she had permitted her feelings for Silverton to swim to the surface, for him and all the world to see. Meredith had lost herself in the blue heat of his eyes, and she had allowed herself to believe it had all really meant something.

And for one brutally stupid moment she had let herself imagine that she could actually have a life with him. That it was her he wanted, not Annabel. When he had clasped her against his powerful body and spun her across the dance floor, she had believed that anything was possible.

She would never make that mistake again.

“Miss Burnley, please sit down.”

Nigel's soothing voice penetrated the daze permeating her brain. “Allow me to fetch you and your sister some refreshment.”

Meredith forced herself to smile as he guided her to a spindly gilt and fruitwood chair. Inhaling a quavering breath, she finally looked around for Annabel. For her sister's sake she must brave the public humiliation that made her want to flee London and never look back.

Annabel had followed closely behind into Lady Framingham's formal salon, which had been converted into a supper room for the several hundred guests. Sophia's arm circled Annabel's waist as she murmured quietly into the girl's ear. Her sister looked strangely blank as she joined Meredith at the little table placed near a Chinese screen and several large potted ferns.

Nigel had chosen well; they had as much privacy as they could under the circumstances.

Meredith took her sister's hand. “Are you all right, dearest?” she asked, trying to keep her worry for Annabel out of her voice.

Annabel's gaze focused sharply, and the strange expression in her eyes blazed into furious passion. When she spoke, she carefully enunciated each word.

“I want to kill that woman for what she said about you. If I had a pistol, I would shoot her myself.”

Meredith gaped at her sister, a sudden spurt of hysterical laughter welling up as she returned the fierce look. She forced herself to swallow it and tried to answer Annabel with her usual calm.

“No, darling, you must not be so upset. I don't care what she said about me. I only care how this will affect you. Try not to worry. Lady Stanton will know what to do.”

Annabel blinked rapidly as she nodded in agreement, her body vibrating with the effort to maintain her composure. Guilt burned through Meredith like a flaring torch. If her sister suffered a relapse because of the events of this evening, Meredith would have only herself to blame.

As she patted Annabel's hand, she noticed Mrs. Stanton speaking in a restrained but urgent manner to Robert. Her son nodded, cast a troubled glance at Annabel, and then left the room. Meredith surmised that his mother had instructed him to order their carriage. As far as she was concerned, deliverance from this awful little drama could not come a moment too soon.

“My dear girls,” Mrs. Stanton said kindly, “we will only stay a few minutes longer. Robert has gone to arrange for our carriage. You will both have a cup of punch while I speak with a few of our acquaintances, and then we will leave.”

The older woman gently touched Annabel's cheek.

“Please, my child, try to compose yourself,” she encouraged. “The best thing for us to do right now is to appear as unconcerned as possible. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell is not universally admired. She is abominably high in the instep, and there are many who find her conduct capricious and cruel.”

With those comforting words, she hurried away.

Meredith was both surprised and impressed by Mrs. Stanton's able handling of the situation. In the last few minutes, she had come to realize that Lady Stanton's assessment of her sister-in-law's character was justifiably accurate. Now that she had a few moments to reflect on the situation, she realized that Mrs. Stanton's conduct was in sharp contrast to that of Lady Silverton, who seemed to have disappeared. Given that the marchioness had agreed to be their chaperone, Meredith found it alarming that she had abandoned them.

She sat with Sophia and Annabel in troubled silence until Nigel returned, followed by a footman carrying a tray holding glasses of champagne punch.

“This will make you feel much more the thing,” he exclaimed heartily.

Meredith forced herself to take a sip of the iced punch even though her throat was so constricted she could barely force it down.

When she glanced up to thank Nigel for his kindness, she spotted Silverton and Trask making their way through the crowded room to their table. Her heart, which had only just started to regain a steady rhythm, kicked painfully in her chest and began to race.

To the casual observer Silverton looked as collected and cool as ever, seemingly unaware of the numerous glances and whispered exchanges that followed his steady progress across the room. Meredith wished fiercely that she possessed his talent for unflappable self-control.

But as he neared their table she caught sight of his eyes; they glittered with a barely repressed fury, their gaze locked right on her.

Her vision blurred, her stomach twisting with a cold anxiety that made nausea rise in her throat. She had been so worried about Annabel she had not yet thought of his reaction to the events of the evening. Not only had she humiliated herself, her inappropriate behavior had obviously embarrassed him, too.

Meredith didn't know why he had asked her to waltz, and he should not have done so, but the fault was hers for succumbing so readily to temptation. She had promised Lady Stanton she would see to Annabel's good conduct, and yet her own behavior had been thoughtless and improper. Because of her weakness, Silverton must endure the gossip and slander right along with her. She was certain that he must be as disgusted with her as she was with herself.

Meredith turned away and desperately fastened her gaze on Annabel. She could not look at him, could not bear to see the disapproval in his eyes that she knew must be there. More than anything, that would shatter her fragile composure.

There was nothing to be done but gather the tattered shreds of her dignity and wait as patiently as she could for this terrible night to come to an end.

So she waited, and a few minutes later Robert and his mother came to fetch them all and finally take them home.

 

 

Silverton stared at the back of the Stanton's town coach as he struggled mightily to conceal his growing frustration from his mother and her friends. The look of anguish on Meredith's white face as he had tried to assist her into the carriage had struck him like a blow. Even worse, she had jerked her hand from his as if stung by an insect. She was building a wall around herself, and he couldn't believe how swiftly their growing intimacy had evaporated into the cool night air.

He stifled a groan. Only an hour ago her warm body had snuggled in his arms as he swept her in lazy circles across the ballroom floor. Silverton had poured all his charm and energy into pleasing her, and he had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations. Meredith had melted against him as if she were made just for him—lithe, supple, and infinitely responsive to the slightest touch of his hand. He had reveled in the sound of her laughter, a simmering slurry of intoxication pouring like honey through his veins. She had a courtesan's laugh, full and throaty, and it made him think of all the ways he wanted to possess her.

Silverton had noticed the heads of other dancers swiveling around to stare at them, but fool that he was, he hadn't cared. He had focused completely on her, and all of London could have burned to the ground as long as Meredith remained in his arms.

“Stephen, our carriage is here.”

His mother's voice pulled him abruptly back to his surroundings. He placed a hand under her elbow, helping her into the plush interior of their coach. As he climbed in after her, he felt worn down and impatient beyond measure with the dreary absurdity of his social life. He settled heavily into his seat, prepared to brood silently for the duration of the short ride home, while his mother engaged in her usual gossipy prattle about the evening's events.

Silverton closed his eyes and tried to ignore her, but her mention of Meredith's name yanked him out of his gloomy reverie. He listened with growing consternation to his mother's unexpected and pointed criticism of Meredith and, by extension, his own outrageous behavior.

“Really, one cannot be surprised by Mrs. Drummond-Burrell's remark. Annabel is a very sweet girl, but I find that Miss Burnley's manner is quite forward and rather fast.” She tittered maliciously as she restlessly arranged the gold bangles bunched around her wrists.

“I vow, one can practically smell the shop on her. Stephen, how ever could you bring yourself to dance with Miss Burnley three times, much less one? I was ready to die on your behalf. I shudder to think what your friends must say about it.”

His mother sighed dramatically as she slid an assessing gaze to where he sat so silently. “How unfortunate for Annabel, indeed for us all, that we should be burdened with such an unfortunate relation.”

His temples began to throb as he listened to the spiteful undertones in his mother's normally light and breathy voice. She never criticized him, at least not directly. And it infuriated him to hear her denigrate Meredith, who was so obviously a lady in every way that mattered.

The marchioness's face was just visible in the intermittent gaslight that spilled through the carriage's windows. A small, cruel smile touched her lips. She looked at him with an air of smug satisfaction that captured his attention more forcefully than her words.

The evening had developed into a series of revelations, and the most surprising one right now was his mother's reaction to Meredith. He was ready to kick himself for his unthinking behavior.

As he stared at his mother through narrowed eyes, he tamped down the anger that flared within him. Silverton never lost his temper with his mother. Exasperation was an emotion he felt frequently in her company, and, occasionally, frustration. But never anger. Her petty cruelty toward Meredith, however, tested the limits of his patience.

As he watched her fuss with her jewelry, it dawned on him that her response was likely to be duplicated by almost every other person at the ball, especially the grande dames.

Silverton closed his eyes and shook his head. He had been so absorbed by his own emotions and so distracted by Meredith's distress that he had failed to adequately observe the ton's reaction to their tawdry little scene. His mother's words made it abundantly clear that Meredith was in a great deal of trouble.

He cursed inwardly as he realized how unfair he had been to both Meredith and Annabel. He was so used to the world ordering itself to suit his needs and wants that he rarely gave a thought to the consequences of his own behavior.
Their
situation was precarious, however, and they would be the ones to suffer for his arrogance.

He was an ass, Silverton thought grimly, and he must do something to correct his mistake before Meredith and Annabel were ruined. He wasn't sure yet how to accomplish that, but he could stop his mother, at least, from fueling the incipient scandal.

“The fault was mine, Mother,” he said, ruthlessly interrupting her silly chatter. “Miss Burnley was merely being polite when she agreed to dance with me. Her sister's long illness and their difficult domestic situation have made it impossible for them to move in polite society. Any faux pas they make should be entirely understandable.”

His mother's eyes widened with uncertainty. He returned her look with an unforgiving stare.

“I hope,” he continued in a cold voice, “you will be charitable enough to overlook any small errors on their part. One could suppose, in fact, that since you were their chaperone tonight, any whispers of scandal might possibly attach to you.”

He felt a grim surge of satisfaction as she bit back an exclamation of dismay.

“In addition, Mrs. Drummond-Burrell is not the kind of woman I would wish my mother to emulate. She is insufferably arrogant, mean-spirited, and boring. I avoid her company whenever I can. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I always thought you did, too.”