Now and Forevermore

Now and Forevermore

Time Travel – Tales of the Heart

By
Minx Charmer

Copyright © 2013 Blue Ribbon Books

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

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Summer, 1820

Chapter 1

Malcolm longed for a breath of fresh air or a stiff drink to save what remained of his sanity. He did not betray this dilemma but remained aloof, as his eyes wandered across the dance floor. As the couples twirled in unison to the sway of a daring waltz to the dismay of the traditional crowd, he tugged at his silk cravat in a discreet manner. The heat of bodies contributed to a stifling atmosphere, but he forced himself to stay unruffled by the elements. He admitted with grudging respect that the host, despite his brutish reputation, knew how to arrange a gathering.  

Gloucester Hall featured a large ballroom detailed in exquisite red and gold trimmings, with side tables carved in rosewood and a large painting over a dominant fireplace. The host ensured that each guest received their full share of refreshments, and the table stood in the corner filled with exotic delicacies to tempt even the most frugal adventurer. High arched windows barred the night chill, but the French doors opened to allow cool air to temper the surroundings. However, the night air couldn’t compete with the blaze of candles on the chandelier.

Malcolm shifted in his chair and resisted the urge to leave the scene in haste. The warm atmosphere wasn’t the only thing that disturbed him. The incessant bows to lords and ladies, coupled with bland smiles on pinched faces taxed his patience. And he could not bear any more proposals of marriage, or business ventures that sought to fleece him from his family fortune.

At one time, to languish in the presence of the ton where quick wit and delightful chatter abounded, agreed with his nature. Those days were long gone. He stopped being a frivolous youth in his sixteenth year, and he found the inane conversation soured his good graces. And yet, a dark logic to his madness prevailed. As the Marquis of Thornbrook, duty demanded he find a bride and procure an heir. That knowledge alone kept him coming back for more of the same.

When the dancers parted after the waltz, and made their way to the refreshment, he wanted to join them, but feared the overt glances of the ladies who followed his firm shoulders and taunt muscular frame with an esteemed gaze. He knew it was an effort to catch his eye, but he ignored their hidden request. Instead he focused on the clothing of the maidens that graced the room.

High waist empire dresses gathered at the bodice, some modest and others with a daring cut. Ribbons, laces and ruffles embellished the designs which flowed into full skirts and puffed sleeves, but the heavy-handed jewelry did not enhance its appeal but overshadowed it. His gaze settled on the mothers who roved the room with squinted eyes. Every gentleman’s worst fear rested in the trap of a parent whose only aim was to see her daughter wed to a suitable companion. Each one had the consummate skill to reduce a nobleman to a simpleton, or have him nurse his wounds in the shadows for the rest of the evening.

“Your frown will scare the ladies to scurry into the shadows. What dark thoughts ply your mind Fenton?”

Peter Langford’s inquiring words provided a welcome respite from his brooding thoughts, and Malcolm turned to his childhood companion with a wry look. “Nothing is happening here. I do not think I will find what I search for tonight.”

With a grin, Peter patted him on the back “You search for an angel in a sea of dragons. But you should not give up. The lovely maiden must be around here… somewhere.”

Malcolm nodded with a pained expression “Yes, you would think that is possible with so many to choose from. But I cannot say I find the choices…shall I say… palatable to me?”

Peter regarded the end the room where a group of ladies reclined, their faces partly covered by multicolored lace fans. “And over there? Is there nothing that catches your eye?”

Malcolm allowed his gaze to wander, as he endeavored to avoid prolonged eye contact. It would be unkind to send any signal of interest where there was none. The group of ladies in low décolletages and upswept tresses languished across the room with lazy boredom. Half of them had questionable reputations and the other half would take whoever came their way. With a strangled laugh, he turned to Peter and muttered “What are you trying to do to me? You know those women would have me in the poorhouse before long, and my estate will crumbled and vanish into the dust when they are through.”

Peter did not agree, and a frown appeared between his brown eyes “You have to find someone if you want an heir, and I cannot bear anymore balls until you do. This is the seventh gathering in a fortnight in search of the elusive Marchioness of Thornbrook, and you appear powerless to decide. You are a fine gentleman and ladies love that dark appearance. Reminds them of a highwayman I gather. I swear the last time we talked to Lady Dowerton, she almost fainted at the sight of your reckless attire.”

Malcolm raised his brow, and brushed an imaginary spec from his shoulder. “Your memory is faulty and woefully lacking. She did faint and I had to return her to the manor, despite the short ride. Her father swore I behaved inappropriately and tried to call me out after her mother dissolved into a fit of the vapors. Both of them claimed I was a hopeless rake and Lady Dowerton retired to the country to recuperate from my boorish manners. If you ask me the problem with the female brood is their multiple pieces of inner garments. If they could loosen the stays, they might think for a change.”

At Peter’s shocked gasp which turned his placid face into a reddish hue, Malcolm softened his tone “Forgive my lack of appreciation for the female counterpart. I am aware that women do not want to be old maids, but I wonder if I will ever find someone I can respect. I don’t dare wish for love which is something nonexistent to this fair group.”

 “Listen to me Fenton.” With a thunderous frown, Peter tried to reason with him “Forget this love folly. A woman needs to make her offer as tempting as possible to trap a gentleman, and you must remember that. Think of what a female needs. She needs some sort of property, a sizeable dowry or an annual income to hold the family in good graces. If she has either one, there is no reason for you to keep up this exhaustive search. She will make you a fine wife if you delve beyond the impossible idea of love.”

Malcolm sighed and pondered over his friend’s explanation. Was true love that impossible to find? Was he wrong to desire a woman who would not only grace his halls, but wish to be at his side?  With an amiable smile he returned to his observation of the groups that milled about. Before he could focus on a maiden that gave him a bold glance, Peter whispered in his ear “I think you are about to have your wish fulfilled. I see a certain lady and her daughter coming over here. Get ready for round…which round is this by the way?”

Round twenty, fifty or a hundred. Malcolm had lost count by now. With a groan, he rose to his feet prepared to put his best manners on display. With a certain amount of reserve, he watched the lady and her daughter approach. With an I-told-you-so gaze, Peter’s words dripped innocent fun as he teased “You are in their sights tonight. I think it’s time to act like a gentleman and not a heel, don’t you think?”

Malcolm grunted. He was
always
in their sights, especially for his vast fortune. With an elegant bow, he greeted both women in a cultured voice “My ladies, it is nice to see you are both well.”

They curtsied in returned but ignored Peter’s greeting, as they devoured Malcolm’s muscular form with greedy eyes.

“My Lord, you are particularly fit this evening, and as you can see we are the same.” Baroness Marbella Stanton had an ardent desire to see her daughter suitably wed and never missed an opportunity to impress. In customary fashion, she was well dressed in a high waist gown in pink silk, and trimmed in white ribbons.  Malcolm noted that despite the advanced years, her face remained unlined and her silver hair, parted in the center, gleamed under the light of the chandelier.

“Thank you Lady Stanton. And how is your lovely daughter, Fiorella, this evening?”

Fiorella’s fair face flushed a delicate pink, as she waved her fan in a vigorous attempt to be demure. Her dark hair parted off center and restrained with a pearl bandeau, dissolved into soft ringlets around her ears. And her slim form wrapped in a blue silk dress with a modest cut, spoke well for a young lady of upstanding virtue. Quite an attractive arrangement, but Malcolm reserved comment to himself. If Lady Stanton learned how far from demure Fiorella really behaved, she would require a great deal of smelling salts. It behooved her well that she remained ignorant of her daughter’s true nature.

With a prim smile, Lady Stanton accepted Malcolm’s compliment with grace “Indeed she is lovely, but the apple does not fall far from the tree. But do tell, what are you plans of late?”

Peter’s choked laughter at his right shoulder earned a glare from Malcolm, which he soundly ignored. “Both my friend and I, are only here for a short while. I think we may retire shortly.”

“Preposterous my Lord, this cannot be. It is early yet and the dance has barely begun. Of course I do not approve of these theatrical displays, or that rambunctious dance. I cannot believe that they would allow such scandalous overtures, but I am sure that you could teach them what true class is all about.”

“It is rather warm this evening Lady Stanton and I do not wish for your daughter’s delicate constitution to be affected in any way.”

The Baroness countenance of horror prompted an amused smile as did her sputtered reply “For heaven’s sake sir, the girl is as strong as a horse, and her delicate constitution is not in question. May I remind you that she has been sired by the best, and even though my husband is no longer with us, I do stand by my words when I tell you Fiorella is no weakling. Nevertheless, we shall put this aside and let me offer another suggestion. Perhaps some refreshment is in order, as you have mentioned the warm weather?”

Malcolm inclined his head in agreement. A bit of refreshment would provide a healthy distraction. “Yes, Lady Stanton, I will escort Fiorella to the refreshment table if she is agreeable to the offer.”

With a beaming smile, as though enraptured with his reply, Lady Stanton turned to her daughter. “You are more than parched, aren’t you my dear?”

At Fiorella’s distracted gaze, her mother’s lips thinned into displeasure and she nudged her firmly “Take my lord to the table and get him something to drink, dear. And then perhaps you could enjoy the gardens by moonlight.”

Malcolm froze in place, scenting a trap in the innocent offer. No bachelor in his right mind, would wander around the gardens with an unattached female, and walk away unscathed. “I’m sorry Lady Stanton, but I regret I do not desire refreshment at this time.”

The gasp of horror at his refusal did not faze him nor did her exasperated reply “Come, come now. Surely you wish to have a wonderful time tonight, and my Fiorella is an excellent dancer. Haven’t I been told that you can step along with the best of them?” Her voice dropped to a whisper as her lips tilted in a mysterious smile “I am sure that you can see the wisdom of this offer?”

No, there was no wisdom of the offer, but before he formed an adequate refusal, a boisterous laugh interrupted their small gathering. With a reluctant grimace more than a smile, Malcolm turned to greet the newcomer. Sedgwick, Earl of Gloucester and the disagreeable host joined the group, with a glint of hidden contempt in the depths of his eyes.

 His gruff, overbearing manor lacked finesse and all the wealth in the world couldn’t buy him a tailor to give him a decent fit. His large frame clung to a gold waistcoat at least one size too small and each button strained at the seams.  Even the copper color did nothing for his pale complexion, and gave it a sickly hue. As usual, he did not observe the formal greetings, and his condescending tone flayed the air as he ordered “Baroness, perhaps you should serve your daughter some refreshment on your own. I think a spot has just opened up that will accommodate you both. As you can see, I have other plans for Fenton tonight.”

A red flush stole upon Lady Stanton’s face, and she departed in a huff dragging a stunned Fiorella behind her. Sedgwick dismissed her retreating figure as his harsh words trailed behind her. “Insufferable woman. How can she not know which tree to climb? Come now Fenton, you can do better than that. What is wrong with your powers of observation? Enough of this nonsense, you must dance with my Danielle. See how beautiful and well grown she has become.”