Part 20 (2/2)
”It will be quite a brilliant match. An earl and a duke's daughter.”
They continued to speculate when the wedding would take place, who would be in attendance, the amount of dowry the duke would consider. Mrs. Whitmore reasoned if Kesseley pressed the foiled attempt to Gretna Greene, he could get more than the twenty thousand pounds.
Henrietta felt like her insides were being ripped out. She shrunk in her chair and lowered her head, not wanting to watch Lady Sara waltz away with the man who dwelled in the quietest place of Henrietta's heart.
At last the wretched waltz ended, and the ladies returned their attention to the game. Mrs. Whitmore led a heart. The lady to Henrietta's right trumped it with a five. Henrietta overtrumped. Then she led the last trick, tossing out the jack of hearts.
”No, Miss Watson, you can't play that,” Mrs. Whitmore said. ”Hearts led the last trick. You had to play your heart then.”
Henrietta gaped before realizing the woman meant Henrietta's cards, not that broken, ailing organ pumping her blood.
”I don't feel well this evening. Please excuse me,” she said weakly and rose. Edward waited behind her. How long had he been there?
”I wanted to know-that is, would you dance with me? Again?” He looked as bereft as Henrietta felt. ”We never finished our first dance.”
His stricken face sunk Henrietta's misery and guilt deeper. She wasn't the only one having their heart destroyed. And what was worse, Kesseley had only done what she had begged him to do. He had turned into some living version of Lord Blackraven and stolen Lady Sara.
Oh G.o.d, she hated herself.
”I am so sorry. I am so very sorry.” For everything. It's all my fault. I was so ignorant. For everything. It's all my fault. I was so ignorant. ”II think I might faint. I need to find Lady Kesseley.” Henrietta ran her hand over her perspiring face. ”II think I might faint. I need to find Lady Kesseley.” Henrietta ran her hand over her perspiring face.
”I shall take you to her,” Edward offered.
She clutched his arm, and they cautiously crept into the ballroom as if it were a dangerous jungle full of tigers and panthers. But the most fearful beast of all waited between the card room and his mother. An entourage of young bucks and admiring ladies, including Lady Sara, surrounded him, hanging on his words.
Henrietta felt Edward's arm tighten. They clung to each other, trying to hurry past unnoticed.
No such luck. Kesseley halted them. ”Tell Mama I'll be joining Bucky and his friends this evening.” He tugged the sleeve of a red-headed man who laughed inanely.
Henrietta could only nod, her throat tight.
A slow, cruel smile twisted Kesseley's lips. He looked from Edward to Henrietta. ”Congratulations on your victory.”
”But I-I didn't win. I lost every hand,” she whispered.
Kesseley marveled how much easier life in London became when he no longer cared. He rode his anger like a curricle at top speed, the wind on his face, not caring if an unseen pothole sent him flying. To h.e.l.l with them all.
Kesseley followed Bucky and his friends to an entirely different ball at the notorious Argyll rooms. Under the stately bronze G.o.ddesses lining the walls and the eighteen chandeliers that ran down the length of the room, the lightskirts danced. Their provocative gowns of sheer white muslin hung low to expose their bosoms and clung to their limbs, giving the inspecting gentlemen a good eyeful of the merchandise.
Kesseley felt that familiar hunger rise up in him. The one that drove him onto the road to Ely some nights to a particular widow's address. He hadn't realized how frustrated he had become, locked in the house with Henrietta.
Now he felt her flow away from him, like a receding tide as these lovely feminine figures twirled about, their obscenely low-cut gowns ready to slide down their nipples, across their navels, below that sweet triangle of carnal pleasure.
He figured he needed a reward for turning Lady Sara up so sweet in a single night. His father would have been proud. She fell so easily to all that inane conversation about mystery, poisoned souls and dark secrets.
The only secret to tempt Kesseley waited in the curls between a lovely lady's legs.
And it wouldn't take long. In the few moments Bucky and Kesseley stood there, a throng of ladies lit to them like hummingbirds to nectar, teasing those beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s under their eyes. A variety of ladies to choose from, even removing the raven-haired vixens who reminded him of Henrietta.
In the corner, a doe-eyed auburn stunner regarded Kesseley from under her long lashes. She appeared demure, almost shy. Perfect. He disentangled himself and approached. Her eyes widened with panic as she looked about her for an escape.
Not again!
He halted, ready to turn on his heel. This was lower than he thought possible-to be turned away by a prost.i.tute.
”No, sir, please,” she said. She had a fragile voice, the kind that melted strong men. ”I want to dance with you, but there's someone else...”
Kesseley bowed and gave her a smile, appreciating her kindness.
She looked nervously about, then stepped forward. ”My name is Ann,” she said, as if confiding a secret.
”Kesseley, the Earl of Kesseley,” he returned.
”Earl,” she echoed. Her face was even more beautiful when confused.
He couldn't help himself-he brushed away a dangling auburn curl from her cheek. ”Perhaps there isn't someone else after all,” he said, putting her small hand in his and drawing her onto the floor.
It was a sweet relief to dance in silence with no complicated intentions. She let him graze softly at her lips, her neck and the line between her swelling b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Each knew what happened next-he would whisk her away to her chambers and- He felt a tap on his shoulder. ”I believe this lady and I have some unfinished business to complete.”
Kesseley turned to find Gilling standing there, reeking like a distillery, with two other men flanking him. One fair and freckled with shoulders like mountains, and the other one skinny and dark, looking as if he thought he had shoulders like a mountain.
Why the two woodp.e.c.k.e.rs? Was Gilling afraid Kesseley was going to draw his cork in the middle of the Cyprian Ball?
He kissed his dancing partner's hand. ”My little darling. Should I set you free?”
”No!” she cried, clutching Kesseley, clearly not wanting to return to Gilling.
A nasty smile snaked across Gilling's lips. ”What's a matter, Tommie?” he asked sweetly. ”You have to get a wh.o.r.e because your mother's little companion won't open her legs for you?”
Kesseley dropped Ann's hand. ”What did you say?”
Gilling's two male companions clamped their hands on his shoulders and tried to pull him away, but Gilling brushed them off. ”I said, your mother should tell her champion what that sweet hole between her legs is for. Or h.e.l.l, maybe I'll just show her.”
Kesseley ran his finger under his cravat. ”We can settle this two ways. I'm a pretty good shot, but nothing would suit me better than beating the h.e.l.l out of you. And your two footmen in turn.”
”Did you hear that?” Gilling asked his mates. ”Lord Kesseley wants to dance.”
Kesseley smiled. ”That's right, ladies.”
Gilling shoved the heel of his palm into Kesseley's shoulder. ”Pickering Place. You'll be on your knees before the Watch can come. I'm giving you twenty minutes to change your mind.”
As it turned out, Kesseley had thirty minutes to change his mind. Word of the fight rippled through the crowd like a wildfire. Every man at the Cyprian Ball dropped his companion, and with wild glazed looks in their eyes, they all began shouting out bets like madmen.
The Watch couldn't have broken into Pickering Place if they had tried. Human bodies packed the tiny wainscoted pa.s.sage off St. James like a cork in champagne. The square itself was a tiny, grimy armpit of a courtyard. Men and ladies stood shoulder to shoulder along the wall.
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