Part 3 (1/2)
”But he extracted a price from you,” Ranulph said flatly. ”It is ever the way of mortals to extract treasure from the Fair Folk when they have us in their power.”
She flashed a smile in the darkness, s.h.i.+mmering again. ”Aye, he asked a price, but not for himself. Merely to preserve his beloved nephew from death in battle, then find the boy a good mate. 'Twas not a price I mind paying.”
”You were fortunate.”
”I merely followed destiny's thread.” She swept a perfect English curtsy. ”Good night, my lord. I intend to stay in London for a time, so we shall meet again.”
He bowed, then vanished into the shadows of the duke's garden.
Kamana stood and watched him leave, her inner vision studying the silver thread of his destiny.
Chapter Four.
Lady Wheaton at her side, Leah entered the Duke of Candover's ballroom with the graceful confidence that came to her naturally now. She had recovered from her encounter with the Duke of Hardcastle, and never let herself be caught alone by any of her other admirers. She had also improved her flirting, which made it easier to control the men who flocked around her. Flirting was a game, enjoyable in itself and also good at keeping people at precisely the distance one wanted them.
Lady Wheaton murmured, ”Brace yourself, my dear, you've been seen.”
Already men were flocking toward them. Most Leah knew, though a few were strangers drawn like moths to the flame. Several of them immediately demanded introductions from Lady Wheaton. Lord Wye planted himself in front of Leah and bowed. ”You are in exceptionally fine looks tonight, Miss Marlowe.”
”Thank you,” she said with a friendly smile. She had already turned down three proposals from Lord Wye, but he had not given up yet.
Lord Jeffers intoned, ”She walks in beauty, like a swallow's flight.” He hesitated. ”That's the first line of my new poem, but I'm not sure I've got the right phrase yet.”
Leah touched his hand. ”I'm sure you will,” she said warmly. Then she turned so Lady Wheaton could make introductions. In the last weeks Leah had mastered easy social intercourse. In fact, she'd learned that beauty made almost all things easy.
Yet she was no closer to finding someone to love. The most attractive men she had met were those who were happily married, like her newly wed host, the Duke of Candover. Wanting nothing from her, such men were relaxed and charming companions.
At every social function she attended, she looked for the man who had rescued her from the Duke of Hardcastle, but without success. Instead of a guest, might he have been a servant, perhaps a gardener? She wanted to kick herself for running away in embarra.s.sment that night instead of making his acquaintance. Ah, well, he was probably married and unavailable.
Leah had just returned from waltzing with a portly baronet when Lady Wheaton murmured behind the cover of an opened fan, ”Captain Duncan Townley has just arrived. He doesn't go out socially very much, so he's the only one of my eligibles that you haven't met.” She tapped her lips with the fan reflectively. ”Since no one else has taken your fancy, perhaps he will. Half the women in London dote on him. A hero of Waterloo, you know, and heir to a viscount.”
Leah glanced toward the door, then caught her breath involuntarily. The man who had just entered was stunning, the epitome of the bold, das.h.i.+ng hero who would make any woman's knees melt. Though not exceptionally tall, his lithe, broad-shouldered form radiated intense virility. A lock of dark wavy hair fell over his forehead as he surveyed the ballroom with hooded eyes. Leah tried to estimate his age. Not old, though, certainly under thirty. Awed, she whispered, ”He's magnificent.”
For an instant, she thought that he had noticed her. Then her view was blocked by women crowding forward to see him. She understood perfectly. In fact, she had to suppress a mad desire to walk up to Duncan Townley, link her arms around his neck, and announce that she was his destiny.
Such foolishness! Or was it? There was magic in her life now. Could Ranulph have sent her to London to meet Duncan Townley? The faery lord had said that she could command the love of heroes if she wished.
Smiling at her protegee's reaction, Lady Wheaton said, ”Shall I introduce you?”
”Not yet. I must go to the ladies' retiring room and fix my hair.” More nervous than she had been since the night of her presentation, Leah made her excuses to her circle of admirers and left. But instead of returning to the ballroom after checking her appearance, she detoured to the music room, which was blessedly empty.
She dropped onto the bench in front of the pianoforte and forced herself to breathe slowly. She must be calm when her G.o.dmother introduced her to Duncan Townley. With a man like that, who could have any woman, she would need every iota of her beauty, and charm as well. Nor could she appear too eager. She'd learned enough of men in the last weeks to know that many were captivated by a woman who seemed unattainable.
Her gaze went to the keyboard of the pianoforte. Unable to resist it, she stripped off her gloves and began to play, keeping the sound soft so that it would be inaudible in the ballroom. Mozart soothed her, reminding her of who she really was. Some days she feared that she was in danger of losing herself.
By the end of her first piece, she was so caught up in the music that she went immediately into Beethoven's ”Moonlight Sonata.” The knot of tension that had been part of her since coming to London dissolved. Eyes closed, she played by touch, gently rocking back and forth as her hands coaxed the divine melodies from the instrument.
At the end she sighed with happiness, head bowed as her hands stilled on the keyboard. Then the sound of clapping hands startled her from her reverie.
Her lids snapped open. To her shock, Duncan Townley was standing in the doorway applauding. Their gazes met for a charged moment. In his eyes she saw the same kind of intense interest that she felt for him.
He entered the music room with a pantherlike smoothness that riveted her attention. ”So this is where you've been hiding, fair lady,” he said in a voice like deep, rich chocolate. ”I saw you across the ballroom earlier, but you vanished before I could find you. I've been looking ever since.” He halted beside the pianoforte. ”You play extraordinarily well.”
Leah's heart began to beat in triple time. The voice, the height and build-this was the man who had rescued her from the Duke of Hardcastle. ”Thank you,” she said, amazed at how steady her voice sounded. ”You're Duncan Townley, and I am Leah Marlowe. Since my G.o.dmother intended to introduce us, we can now say that the formalities have been duly performed.”
As soon as she spoke, his brows drew together in puzzlement. He must find her voice familiar also. How foolish of her to think that it would be possible to pretend their first meeting had never happened. She continued, ”Besides, we have already met, in the garden of Hardcastle House. I am very much in your debt, Captain Townley.”
”So it was you,” he exclaimed. ”With your voice like singing bells.” His gaze was almost fierce in its intensity. ”Hardcastle's behavior was despicable-but I understand better now why he forgot himself as he did.”
Leah blushed, and wished that she hadn't. With this man, she cared about the impression she made. Cared desperately. He was glorious, the most attractive male creature she'd ever seen, except for Lord Ranulph, who was too alien to affect her heart.
Dear G.o.d, Duncan Townley couldn't be faery, could he? Her gaze shot up as she looked to see if his eyes were the same emerald green that showed in her own mirror. She exhaled with relief when she saw that they were a rare and striking transparent gold. Not green, thank heaven.
She must say something before he decided that she was an idiot. Casting about for a topic of conversation, she said, ”My G.o.dmother says you are a hero of Waterloo.”
Wrong topic. His golden eyes darkened. ”I simply did my duty. There were many heroes that day, and too many of them are now dead.”
The tan skin tightened over his face, revealing the fine line of a newly healed scar over his sculptured cheekbone. She guessed that it had been made by the slice of a saber. He might have been killed or blinded, but instead, the scar enhanced the rugged masculinity of his appearance.
The thought of him being wounded brought the reality of war to her as newspaper stories never had. On impulse, she stood and lightly touched the scar. Since her gloves were still off, there was an intimate contact of skin to skin. ”I'm sorry,” she said softly. ”It must be bitter to lose so many of your friends, and then be acclaimed when they have been forgotten.”
The warmth returned to his eyes. With utter simplicity, he turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. ”Thank you for understanding.”
The touch of his lips sent fire s.h.i.+vering through her, warming deep places that she had not known existed. This was what she had longed for, she realized dazedly. The first tentative recognition between two souls that, G.o.d willing, would lead to love.
Without haste she lowered her hand. ”I should return to the ballroom. My G.o.dmother would not be happy to learn that I was alone with a man.” She made a face. ”You know what happened the last time.”
His brows arched. ”Do you think I am like the Duke of Hardcastle?”
She considered flirting to keep him at a distance, but decided that it was already too late for that. ”No. You are unlike anyone I have ever met.”
For a moment, there was an expression that seemed almost like pain in his golden eyes. Then he smiled. ”You're right that it is time to return to the ballroom. The next dance is a waltz, and you will dance it with me.”
The thought of being held in his arms sent a delicious s.h.i.+ver through her, but she shook her head regretfully. ”I'm sorry, this waltz is spoken for.” She lifted her fan from the pianoforte and studied the sticks, where she had written the names of her partners. ”Sir Amos Rowley, I believe.”
”What a pity that you lost your fan.” Duncan plucked the fragile object from her hand, then folded it neatly and tucked it inside his coat. ”I shall gallantly volunteer to see that you are not forced to sit out this dance.”
Her mouth curved. ”I shall miss that fan,” she said as she drew on her gloves again. ”It was a gift from my G.o.dmother.”
”I foresee that I will miraculously find it later.” He placed her hand on his arm. ”Naturally I must call on you tomorrow to return your fan. In grat.i.tude, you will grant me a drive in the park.”
She laughed buoyantly, loving the feeling of being swept along by the force of his interest. Why was it that behavior that might irritate her in another man simply made him more attractive? She set the thought aside for another day. What mattered now was this moment, and the excitement that bubbled through her veins like champagne.
Leah did not have a chance to speak with her G.o.dmother until they were in the carriage on the way home. Lady Wheaton started the conversation by saying, ”You're bouncing like a kitten, child. I gather this is about Duncan Townley, since you shamelessly partnered him for two dances in a row.”
”Am I that transparent?” Leah said with a laugh.