Raven's Bride, page 21
They had been at Chatsworth for two days while the new staff became familiar with the estate and their duties. Ash and Killain, preoccupied with security arrangements, left the Duke of Devonshire to entertain the ladies.
Glenys thought him charming. Nearly as tall as Ash, with blue eyes and a sweet smile, his grace put her immediately at ease. With transparent pride he showed her the treasures in his great house, which was larger than most villages she’d ever seen. That morning, he had displayed for her a model of the “new Chatsworth.” Major reconstruction would begin while he was in Italy, and he was terribly excited about it.
Often he put her in mind of a child playing with a vastly expensive toy.
Arm in arm they strolled through the galleries, the enormous private chapel, and the extensive library. Ash had helped him arrange the purchase of several collections, the duke informed her, pointing out two First Folios of Shakespeare’s works.
Overwhelmed and certain her mouth was hanging open nine minutes of every ten, she nearly forgot the crucial business at hand when she was with the duke. But tonight all their careful plans would be put to the test.
Forty guests were invited to dinner, and another hundred to the ball. Except for Evan and Jane Cordell, none were on Killain’s list of suspects. This was a trial run for the staff and, primarily, a chance for Harry and Glenys to practice company manners.
Since they had passed muster with the Duke of Devonshire, Glenys had no fear of being twigged as an imposter. A few guests had arrived in time for luncheon, including Harry’s hopeful suitor, and Lady Nora said afterward that the Sheas made an excellent impression. All was well, so far.
The ball would be a greater challenge, but she was looking forward to it. Her own plans for the evening centered on Ash’s cousins. She had resolved to latch on to them, fire up her instincts, and learn everything she possibly could about the man who would soon inherit the title if Ash was killed. And about the heir’s wife, who might be playing Lady Macbeth in a murder plot.
A loud grunt startled her. She glanced over to see Harry, wearing silk stockings, lacy pantalettes, and a chemise, clutching at the bedpost with both hands. His maid, perspiration on her brow, struggled to lace him into an oddly shaped corset.
Glenys had seen the results, amazingly effective when he was fully dressed, but had never watched the actual process of transforming her brother into Miss Harriet. The corset, padded at the top to give him a bosom and at the bottom to give him hips and a rounded derriere, was tightly nipped in at the waist. He swore under his breath as the maid yanked at the laces, one foot propped against the side of the bed for leverage.
Glenys erupted into laughter, which drew a furious glare from Harry.
“Devil take it, Glennie! This is bad enough without you chortling like a hyena. Go put on your own corset. We gotta be ready in half an hour.”
“I never wear a corset,” she said with one last look out the window. Still no sign of Jane and Evan. “Don’t tell Lady Nora, though. She hasn’t noticed.”
“Laugh at me one more time and I’ll spill the beans. Damned if I won’t.”
She flashed him an insulting hand signal on her way out.
GLENYS CONTEMPLATED her reflection in the mirror, rather pleased at what she saw. Her ball dress of pale green gauze over a white slip was cut low over her shoulders and deep at the back. They were her best features, her shoulders and back, and Lady Nora made sure her gowns were styled to show them off.
Ash had given her an emerald choker to wear, and a matching bracelet was secured over her elbow-length white kid glove. There were earbobs too, which had required her to have her lobes pierced before leaving Ravenrook. She had never owned a single piece of jewelry in her life. When he told her the emerald set was hers to keep, she nearly wept with pleasure. Of course, she fully intended to give it back.
But the gift had reminded her of the stickpin she’d chosen for him the day Charlie was killed, and she went immediately to her room to retrieve it. When she gave it to him, Ash seemed delighted with her simple offering. Even touched, although it was worth a fraction of what he must have paid for the emeralds.
He never wore it, though. At the formal dinners where she and Harry rehearsed proper manners, she waited in vain for it to appear on his cravat.
Prudence, responding to a scratch at the door, admitted Lord Killain and Harry. Her brother wore a canary-yellow gown with long mutton sleeves, a high neckline, and lots of lace. With a touch of rouge at lips and cheeks, his soft hair curling around his ears and neck, he made a strikingly attractive young woman.
“Lord Mumblethorpe will positively swoon when he sees you,” she whispered as Killain led them down the Great Staircase.
Harry thwacked her on the ankle with his cane.
When they came into the glittering salon, a hush fell over the room. All eyes lifted to the doorway, and Glenys felt like the center of an archery target. Politely, the guests resumed their conversations, but they continued to regard her with surreptitious glances.
Dazzled by the gleaming chandeliers and brighter company, she froze in place. How could she meet these people? What would she say to them? Glenys Shea did not belong here.
Killain’s hand pressed against her waist. “Come, my dear.”
Stumbling slightly, she moved into the room, a smile carved on her face. She forgot to look for Jane and Evan. Forgot everything but staying erect. Dear God, where was Ash?
Then he was directly in front of her, bowing, taking her gloved hand, and lifting it to his lips. Her vision cleared.
Her heart stopped.
In all her twenty-one years, she had never seen anything so splendid as the Earl of Ravensby in full evening dress. Against the black and white of his stockings, kneebreeches and tailed coat, the white-on-white embroidered waistcoat and whiter cravat, his eyes glowed like gray-green flames. And at his neck she saw the stickpin she had given him.
Confidence flooded back. She curtseyed, holding his gaze with her own for an intimate moment before turning to greet the duke. Devonshire complimented her with obvious sincerity and beckoned to a servant, who offered her a glass of champagne.
Soon after, the guests began to filter in her direction to be introduced. Her confidence fled again. This was an elaborate dance, she realized, and they knew all the steps. Lady Nora had taught her to manage herself in a formal receiving line and how to behave at table, but nothing had prepared her for the intricacies of affairs like this one.
Ash stood on one side and Devonshire on the other, both of them enviably at ease. As they presented her to the Mayor of Sheffield, Lord and Lady Something, Mr. and Mrs. Something Else, Viscount Gridley or Grumley—she wasn’t sure—and the rest, she smiled. She nodded, smiled, and murmured pleasantries. She smiled and sipped champagne. She smiled and smiled and smiled.
For a brief few seconds she was alone with Ash and the duke. “Relax,” Ash whispered. “You are doing wonderfully.”
“You lie through your teeth,” she whispered back. “I am the veriest country bumpkin.”
“On my honor, you have stolen their hearts. Now prepare yourself. Here come Evan and Jane.”
A rod of iron suddenly appeared in her back. Passing her empty glass to the duke as though he were a footman, she regarded them with avid curiosity.
Evan, a stocky man just above her own height, seized Ash’s extended hand and pumped it vigorously. “By the mass, it’s good to see you again. Too long, I say. Too long.”
He turned to Glenys as Ash murmured introductions and gave her a frank look of appraisal. Like a man deciding whether or not to buy a brood mare, she thought, examining him with equal calculation. She liked what she saw. Evan Cordell had open, friendly eyes, ruddy cheeks, and the bluff heartiness of a country squire content with himself and life in general.
Apparently she too passed inspection. “Ravensby is a lucky man, Miss Shea,” he said, pressing her hand between his. “Pleased to meet you.”
He acknowledged the duke with a belated bow and returned his attention to Glenys. “May I present m’wife? Jane, come meet our new cousin.”
Jane had held back, behind her husband, fluttering pudgy hands as if ruffled to be in the exalted presence of an earl and a duke. Like Evan, she was short, slightly overweight, and dressed with no eye to good taste. Simpering a “So kind, your grace, to invite us,” she curtseyed to Devonshire before focusing cold, hard eyes on Glenys.
A woman to be reckoned with, Glenys knew immediately. Sharp intelligence lay behind her addled conversation, which was frequently punctuated with nervous giggles.
When Ash inquired about her children, she rambled on until even the excruciatingly polite duke grew bored and wandered away. And all the while, her pale blue eyes stared at Glenys with barely concealed hatred.
Oh, yes, Jane wanted to be Countess Ravensby. She practically vibrated with ambition while her mouth spewed nonsense. And all the while, Evan regarded her proudly. He loves her, Glenys thought, astonished. Probably because she had given him three sons and two daughters. Farmers, and Evan was a farmer right down to his toenails, cherished fertile ground.
But was she able to mount the attacks on Ash? Direct the murder of his wife and the ambush that killed Charlie? Jane was surely capable of doing whatever it took to achieve her goal, but had she the funds to hire accomplices? A country squire’s pin money wouldn’t turn the trick.
Knowing she required more information, but certain Jane would be wary of her, Glenys slipped into the role of awestruck twit. Not unlike Jane’s false persona, certainly, but the more effective for that reason. Jane would not imagine anyone else wily enough to carry it off.
“I long for children,” Glenys divulged when Jane’s monologue wound to a close. “If only Ashie and I are blessed as you and Evan have been. Will you mind very much if I quiz you later about … personal matters? My mother died before she explained, well, the essentials, and I’ve no one to ask. We are to be cousins, after all.”
Jane regarded her with distaste before recovering her poise. “Of course, my dear.”
Glenys batted her lashes. “Ah, I misspoke myself. Forgive me. I do not refer to matters between husband and wife. Ashie will know all about those. But he cannot be familiar with birthing. I shall ask you later, when it becomes necessary, about that. Meantime, I worry about fulfilling my duties as helpmeet. I want to take from him the burdens of managing the household and, most particularly, the finances. Ashie is writing a book. He should not be distracted with day-to-day affairs.”
Jane’s reply was cut off by the butler, who rang a silver bell to announce dinner. Evan immediately took her hand and hauled her toward the door, clearly looking forward to his meal.
Glenys watched her draw him aside with a sharp tug. Jane knew well they ranked very low in the order of precedence. Resentment flicked across her chubby face.
“Ashie?” Ravensby inquired with a raised brow.
“Never mind that. Jane is a witch and bears close scrutiny. I’ll try to be alone with her, tonight if possible or tomorrow before she leaves. Do what you can to throw us together.”
“Yes, ma’am. Any further instructions?”
Laughing, she shook her head. “I should concentrate on my manners, I suppose, so as not to disgrace you.”
“No fear of that. But it will look odd if you spend the evening interrogating my cousins. This is your betrothal ball, Miss Shea. Do try and remember I am in the room.”
As if she could forget him any moment of the day or night. He still haunted her dreams. She always awoke with the sheets twisted around her, clutching a pillow, her breasts and the place between her legs aching to be touched.
She was blushing hotly by the time they reached the elaborate dining room, where she was seated to the duke’s left and across the table from Ash. She felt him looking at her through the long meal, and drank rather more wine than was good for her.
Fortunately, Lord Mumblethorpe, who was placed beside her, kept her busy answering questions about her lovely sister. He was a sweet, earnest young man. Torn between embarrassing him and the delights of promoting his courtship of Miss Harriet, she settled for making friends with him instead.
After dinner the gentlemen relaxed over port and cigars while the ladies went to their own chambers to make repairs. The ball guests would arrive within the hour. Glenys heard the orchestra tuning their instruments as she mounted the stairs, a bit woozy after all the wine she’d drunk.
Harry caught up with her in the passageway, breathing heavily. “What did you say to Lord Mumblethorpe?” he demanded. “I saw you talking at him all through dinner.”
“Oh, I gave him the benefit of my wisdom. If he takes my advice, perhaps we can announce two betrothals at the ball.”
Harry followed her into her room, sputtering with rage. “If you put any wrong ideas in his head, Glennie, I swear I’ll tear you limb from limb.”
She regarded him with a frown. “Speaking of limbs, why are you favoring your right foot? In the salon, it was your left.”
He looked confused. “Was it? I can’t never remember.”
“You had better remember, lout. If I noticed, others will.” Proceeding to the armoire, she searched the back reaches for one of her plainer gowns and tore off a small button. “Choose a bad leg and put this in your slipper as a reminder.”
“It’ll hurt.”
“All the better. Which leg?”
“Left, I guess.”
“Very well. I’ll make sure your maid tapes a button in all your left shoes. Harry, the earl’s life is at stake here. We can’t afford any blunders.”
His face grew solemn. “I know. Your life too, Glennie. Take care tonight.”
THE DUKE OF Devonshire led Glenys out for the opening minuet.
She had practiced for hours with Lord Killain and knew the steps, but private rehearsals had not prepared her to be the center of attention at a ball. She felt nervous and graceless, with sticks for legs and noodles for arms. Whenever the figure permitted, she clung to the duke’s hand for support.
If he noticed, he gave no sign. He smiled into her eyes, told her he envied Ravensby, and before the long dance ended she had regathered most of her spirit.
“I quite understand why Ash is so fond of you,” she said as Devonshire made a graceful bow and escorted her from the floor. “How very good you are to invite us here tonight and give us the use of your home in London.”
“Not at all. When you are wed, I’ll expect to see the both of you often. Ravensby is my closest friend, but he has played the hermit far too long. I’m delighted to see him happy. And because you have made him so, Miss Shea, there is nothing you cannot ask of me.”
The offer was too good to refuse. “I wish Evan and Jane were not leaving tomorrow morning,” she said earnestly. “They are Ash’s nearest relations, and I’d hoped for more time to pursue our acquaintance. Could you possibly invite them to remain another night, Your Grace? In a small circle of family and friends, we can all relax and come to know one another.”
“Certainly, Miss Shea. A capital idea. But come. I must hand you over to Ravensby and make the formal announcement. Then, as you waltz together, I’ll speak with Mr. Cordell and his wife.”
He led her to Ash, who stood near the stage where the conductor waited for a signal. When the Duke mounted the stairs, the orchestra played a fanfare. Ash took her hand as all the guests turned to look at them.
The Duke spoke quietly, as always, but in the hushed ballroom his words were clear. “My lords and ladies, ladies and gentlemen, I am honored to announce the betrothal of Ashton de Vesci Cordell, Lord Ravensby, to Miss Glenys Amelia Shea. May God smile upon their marriage and bless them with every joy.”
Glenys saw Jane standing a few feet away, her small blue eyes glittering with unmistakable malice.
Ash turned to her then, and immediately she was lost in his beautiful eyes. As when she first saw them, they held her mesmerized. He led her to the center of the dance floor and put a firm hand at her waist. Dreamily, she placed her left hand on his shoulder and felt him lift her other hand as the waltz began to play.
They danced alone for a long time, circling the floor while the others looked on. She had never danced with him before. The lessons at Ravenrook were left to Killain, who always held her like a brother would hold his sister.
Ash held her like a lover. He gazed into her eyes, and smiled at her, and drew her close to his body as Killain had never done.
She couldn’t help herself. She gave herself over to the fantasy, imagining they were truly in love and really to be married. He was playing a role, she knew—pretending for the guests who watched them. But for her the waltz was magical, and she let the dream carry her away to Caliban’s island where the skies opened and dropped riches upon her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as other dancers joined them on the floor.
“Oh, I’m counting the measures,” she lied. “Trying not to trip over my big feet. What are you thinking?”
“That I never enjoyed dancing. Until now.”
He must have regretted the confession because his arms grew rigid. “We’ll set out for Ravenrook tomorrow afternoon, when the other houseguests have departed. Be ready to go.”
She gave him a chipper smile. “Plans change, Lord Ravensby. I suggest you be ready for a surprise.”
24
IN DEFIANCE OF Ravensby’s strict orders, Glenys slipped out of the house the morning after the ball.
A servant had told her Mr. Cordell was gone to examine the sheep, and there were plenty of them about. Wrapped in her heavy wool cloak, she padded across the rolling lawns in search of Ash’s heir. Eventually, she located him near the cascade that flowed from a hill overlooking the estate.
Evan was crouched in front of a bored-looking ewe, running his fingers through its fleece. “Excellent stock,” he remarked when she came up beside him. “Quite different from my own southland breed, of course, but the wool is of superb quality.”
