Chapter 6

Chapter 6

During the long winter months Marcus' thoughts often drifted to Olivia, who in his mind had become Cendrillon, his Cinderella who had disappeared into the forest.

For several days after that strange meeting, he had ridden Hector over to the north boundary every day, often accompanied by Hera. He never saw Cendrillon nor any sign of her presence in the grove.

No one at Belvedere Abbey recognized his description of the young lady, Colin even joked that Marcus had imagined her, or she had indeed come through a portal from the land of fairies.

As the days passed into weeks, he visited the grove only occasionally, always hoping for a glimpse of the young woman who had captured his attention.

***

March

London

Hargrove House, Tewksbury Crescent

"Will you be dining in this evening, Your Lordship?" asked Farthing, the butler at Hargrove House, the family's London residence.

"Most probably, Farthing, but please reassure Cook that Lord Ludlow and I are happy with a plate of cold cuts."

"Very good, My Lord," said Farthing, bowing before he moved away.

"This house runs like clockwork," said Colin. "You're lucky to have Mr. Farthing. I'm wondering about making him an offer to come and work at our townhouse."

"That, my dear cousin, is a ridiculous idea. You always stay here when you are in town. Why would you want to poach Farthing to work at a house that you never visit?"

"You're right of course, though maybe I'd stay at Canoncliffe Square if Farthing was in charge of the household."

"Colin, we're only here in London because you decided it's time you got married."

"That's not entirely true Marcus," protested Colin. "Your father asked you to spend some time in London society in the hopes of finding a bride as well."

"You're right of course. The duke is keen to secure the succession and talks of little else but my finding a duchess." He sighed deeply, "Mama would be delighted if I made an offer for Lady Cressida Lantham. She's been pushing me toward Lady Cressida since I returned home from Italy."

"You could easily scare Aunt Elizabeth off by hinting that you might marry an Italian Contessa."

"Sad to say, Colin, that I would have married an Italian Contessa. I even proposed marriage, but she refused to have me. I tell you, I was in my cups for days when she turned me down."

"I can't believe she turned you down."

"Turned me down and called me a boy. I believe she has become engaged to an elderly Bourbon prince and good luck to her."

"Well, I'll be glad of your company this season," confided Colin. "You know I dislike going to these events alone although I always enjoy them once I'm there."

"Well, I doubt very much I'll last the whole season. I'll attend a few balls and recitals. I don't want to upset father while his health is still so fragile. I can attend balls and inspect the young ladies who are seeking a husband, but that doesn't mean I have to make a match."

"Quite true, cousin. Now, tonight we attend our first ball, and don't panic it isn't at the Almack's assembly rooms with all those tabbies of the ton eyeing you up. No, it's a small event, at the home of the Marchioness of Throxley and your neighbor, from Buckinghamshire, the Viscountess of Leighton plans to be there."

"Now that will be interesting, I've never made her acquaintance and we are neighbors." His thoughts drifted away to the northern boundary of his estate and a forest glade where Leighton property met Hargrove land.

He smiled affectionately at his cousin, whose light brown hair had been trimmed and arranged in something approaching the Corinthian trend in fashion. Marcus suspected it had taken Colin hours to perfect that casual, only just tied in a simple knot look.

He'd lent Colin his valet James Cartwright, to help him gain confidence in London fashion. James had done a good job, as Colin looked every inch the fashionable Corinthian Viscount of Ludlow.

Marcus retreated to his bedchamber, smiling at the excitement on his cousin's face at the anticipation of flirting with debutantes and searching for a bride.

Now which boots shall I wear … and can I think of an excuse to avoid attending this ball tonight?

"James," he called. His valet appeared almost instantaneously "My Lord?"

‘Help me out of these boots and then I need to dress for this ball at Throxley House."

His eyes widened as he noticed his trunk already unpacked and his dressing room full of neatly organized frock coats, linen shirts, cravats and breeches. "You've been busy, James. I had no idea I had so many clothes."

"Most are still in Italy, My Lord. If you choose to remain in town for the season, then we'll need to call in the tailor. You're short of breeches and shirts, My Lord."

"Whatever you think best James. As for this shindig tonight at Throxley, I leave myself in your hands. Unlike Lord Ludlow, I'm not searching for a bride, so something somber and restrained perhaps."

Marcus generally preferred to dress himself, except when attending a society event, and then he allowed James to choose his clothes.

In no time at all Marcus was dressed in the suave Italian style he preferred. "Almost there, My Lord." James held up a dark green frock coat and a midnight blue version. "Any preference?"

"Preference? If I could choose, I'd wear my leather coat, the one I bought in Florence, but it won't do for Throxley. I've a mind to choose the green." All the colors of the forest. Oh, to spend an hour in a woodland glade, discussing literature, while looking into fine, bright eyes.

***

Lanterns shone outside the steps leading up to Throxley Place.

"If this is a small ball, I wonder how many people the Marchioness invites to a grand ball?" commented Colin.

"Lots of young ladies are arriving," joked Marcus. "Perhaps your true love is arriving in one of those carriages."

"I know you think this is funny, but I do want to marry."

"Too much poetry. It's turned your head to love," said Marcus, laughing.

"You could do to settle down yourself. You're hardly young anymore," retorted Colin.

"Enough. I concede. The point is yours. Shall we fence at the club tomorrow?"

"If I don't drink too much tonight. I need to be on top form to fence with you, Marcus."

Marcus bowed and nodded to the Marchioness as they were announced and descended into the ballroom.

"I like Throxley Place," said Colin. "It has the feel of a country house in the middle of the city. A perfect place for a spring ball."

"She may have the terrace open, the weather is unseasonably good for March. Now, you go fill up some dance cards and I shall search out a game of whist or cribbage. I have no desire to dance," said Marcus.

Marcus turned round to see Colin staring at a new arrival.

"Colin, you're not listening. Ah, smitten already I see." joked Marcus.

"Who is she?" whispered Colin. "That lady with the brown hair in the shimmering ivory gown."

"I don't think I know her," responded Marcus. "But you can't dance with her as you've not been introduced."

"Total tosh and balderdash. I'm with the most eligible bachelor of the season. I'm sure I'll be introduced immediately."

"The most eligible bachelor?" Marcus looked around. "You don't mean …you can't mean me."

"I can and do," said Colin, propelling the Earl of Hatfield in the direction of the mysterious lady.

Sure enough, they did not have to wait long to be noticed by her sponsor and chaperone, the vivacious Lady Leighton.

"Lord Ludlow and Lord Hatfield. How delightful. Let me introduce you to my protégée Lady Jocelyn Sherwyn. Jocelyn, my dear, come and be introduced to someone who seems keen to have his name on your dance card."

Marcus watched, eyebrow raised quizzically as his cousin stammered a greeting to a very personable young lady of the ton . Lady Jocelyn Sherwyn smiled brightly at his cousin, her brown ringlets adorned by ivory silk ribbons. Lady Jocelyn bobbed a curtsy, clearly putting his cousin at ease with her engaging manner.

He caught sight of a familiar face at the other side of the room. Lady Cressida Lantham, daughter of a French émigré and, if his mother had her way, the future Countess of Hatfield and, on the death of his father, Duchess of Hargrove. Lady Cressida nodded in recognition and so Marcus began to make his excuses and move to join her.

He realized Lady Leighton had spoken to him and seemed to be introducing him to another young lady. It would be discourteous to walk away, so he turned to bow and smile at yet another debutant.

He stood still, rooted to the spot. Could it be? Cendrillon at the ball? He must be mistaken.

He saw the immediate flash of recognition in those aquamarine blue eyes. The lady from the forest glade, dressed in a dusky green silk gown, dark hazelnut tresses, intricately looped and bound with green ribbon.

"Marcus, Earl of Hatfield, this is Lady Olivia Sherwyn," came the voice of Lady Leighton. "Do you know each other?" she continued, full of curiosity.

"Yes, well no," came the contralto voice that he recognized from the glade.

"Curious. You can tell me later, Olivia," said Lady Leighton. "I'm going to introduce you and leave you together as I have promised this next dance to my Viscount, and I see Charles is coming toward us."

Charles, Viscount of Leighton joined them, nodded at Marcus. "Hatfield, good to see you, we must catch up soon. If you're in town a while let's fence. Now, come my dear, it's the Scottish Reel we danced at our first ball, and I don't want to miss it."

Olivia and Marcus were alone, in the middle of a crowded ballroom. Marcus noticed the elegance and poise of the woman he thought of as Cendrillon. Her gown fell around her, flowing like gossamer, a very different look from the plain dimity gown she had worn that day in the forest.

A voice sounded loudly in his ear. "Marcus, Lady Sherwyn and I are going to dance the next set together. I suggest you ask Lady Olivia to dance, before someone else signs her dance card." He smiled engagingly at Lady Olivia. "Please forgive him. He isn't one for balls. He'd always prefer to be in the country with his horses and dogs."

"I believe I have no option but to ask you to dance." Marcus caught the fleeting look of hurt in Olivia's eyes and re-phrased his words. "I do apologize, it is a long time since I attended a society event and I admit I am a little stunned to meet you here."

She nodded, "And I you, My Lord. I thought you to be a farmer, albeit a gentleman farmer."

At her words he burst out laughing and the tension was broken. "Did you, by Jove? Well, it's not too far from the truth. I'd rather be on my estate here or in Italy than dancing at a ball. Would you care to dance?"

"If I'm honest, I'd prefer a glass of lemonade and some fresh air on the terrace." came her reply. "It is quite a surprise. Perhaps after some refreshment we might dance?"

"Very well, let's find a glass of lemonade." and he guided her across the room.

The terrace outside made a beautiful setting, under a clear starlit sky. Benches and tables made it a pleasant place to talk, away from the cacophony of voices and orchestra in the ballroom.

"So, Cendrillon, you have come to the ball," he began.

"Cendrillon?" she queried. "The tales of Charles Perrault?"

"You know them?"

"Indeed, but in translation. I believe it is Cinderella?"

"Exactly so. I had a French nanny, who had escaped the revolution, and she would read me stories from her homeland in French. I loved to listen and I'm sure it's why I'm fluent in French. It was very useful to the government in the war," he added. Marcus continued, "I'm no handsome prince, but you did rather appear, trespassing on my land."

"Trespassing?"

"Well, the grove is in Hargrove land, and you had wandered away from Leighton Manor that day."

"Ah," she responded, "then I was indeed a trespasser."

"You also disappeared suddenly. One minute you were there, the next you were gathering your notebook and blanket and racing away up the forest track."

"I cannot deny it," she said. "I can't even explain it. Except to say that we broke a lot of the rules of society that day, we had certainly not been introduced, and, however pleasant, it was not reality." She took a sip of her lemonade before continuing. "I risked my reputation, Your Lordship. If we had been discovered, I could have been ruined."

"I never think of these things," he admitted. "I can see your predicament. I enjoyed our day together and hoped to see more of you, then suddenly you were gone. So, to me you will always be Cendrillon."

"I like it," she laughed, and he found he loved listening to her laughter. "You know my dear friend, Lady Leighton?" she continued. "I stayed a month at Leighton with her."

"I hadn't met her, though my cousin Colin, Lord Ludlow, knows Lady Leighton, and my mother has called on her. I tend to avoid social occasions, unless I am forced to attend."

"Yet you are here tonight?"

"Under duress, believe me. My cousin is seeking a bride. He is keen to fall in love. I am honor bound to accompany him to events."

"Ah, I understand entirely."

"You do, how so?"

"My niece, Lady Jocelyn Sherwyn, is looking for love too. It's her first season. She will be presented at court later this month."

"And you, Cendrillon, is it your first ball too?"

"Indeed not. I am almost on the shelf. I had my first season five years ago but have rarely been in town since then."

"How unusual for a young lady to admit to being on the shelf."

"I see no need to mince words, Your Lordship. I have no desire to make a match."

"I see. Well I shall enjoy your company this evening." He looked toward the ballroom and noticed that Colin still danced with Lady Jocelyn.

"I suspect Lord Ludlow has formed an attachment for your niece."

"And she seems happy in his company," added Olivia.

"I wonder?" said Marcus, thoughtfully.

"You wonder?" queried Olivia.

"I wonder if we might facilitate the process of them getting to know each other. I have an ulterior motive and am happy to declare it. The sooner Colin is settled and offers for a young lady, then the sooner I can return to my estate."

"I too long to be quietly at home writing, erm, I mean reading a book."

"Colin certainly seemed struck by your niece the moment he set eyes on her. He seems entranced by her conversation. I predict he will want to meet her again, and often."

"If Jocelyn likes your cousin, then I see no harm in our plan. I'll need to tell Lady Leighton, who is sponsoring Jocelyn."

"Of course. I shall also enjoy building on our friendship. I have few true friends and so enjoyed our conversation that day in the woodland glade."

"I did as well," she said, and he could swear that he heard a gentle sigh escape from her lips.

His gaze fell on her hazelnut tresses, falling around her face in such a becoming style. Lady Olivia Sherwyn, or his Cendrillon as he thought of her, stood out as an individual character in a sea of sameness.

He planned to get to know her better. He had been truthful in telling her he had few friends, certainly few friends who enjoyed reading. He was not short of friends who enjoyed matching their skills against him in a bout of fencing, but none of them had any interest in discussing literature. Or, for that matter, taking a picnic next to a shady pool in a forest glade.

He knew he did not want this moment to end. Thoughts of Cendrillon had stayed with him a long time after their meeting in the woodland glade. He had tried to find her, to no avail. He smiled to himself at the idea that she thought he was a local farmer. He liked that.

He had enjoyed her company, but he had also been captivated by her smile, her mellow voice and the way she listened so thoughtfully. He also knew that he had wanted to kiss her while they were picking wild strawberries. On that day in the woods, he had been bewitched by Cendrillon and felt very alone when she had raced away so suddenly.

He bowed suddenly. "Lady Olivia Sherwyn, I am instructed by my cousin to invite you to dance with me."

"I'd be delighted sir," she responded, slipping easily into the language of the ton.

Tonight, on the starlit terrace he had the same compulsion to reach down and place his lips on hers. The orchestra had paused, and the next dance would begin soon. He offered her his arm and they made their way to the dance floor.

Ah, a quadrille, he thought, perfect. I'm in no mood for a reel.

He noticed Colin and Jocelyn were still together and gestured for them to join him and Olivia as the other couple in the square.

He needed to remind Colin that dancing more than two dances with the same young lady could be seen as a commitment by some of the matronly tabbies of the ton . However, seeing the look of devotion on his friend's face, he suspected his cousin was well on his way to falling in love.

As they twirled in the square dance, he noticed how his heart seemed to miss a beat when he held Cendrillon's hand in his. The sensation was disquieting, but he knew he wanted more of it and this time he determined that this lady would not disappear. In fact, he planned to call on her the very next day.

As he guided Olivia back to Lady Leighton, he noticed Lady Cressida and her mother had joined their group. He sensed Lady Cressida was less than happy about his disappearance out to the terrace with Lady Olivia Sherwyn.

He bowed at Lady Cressida. "I don't believe you have met my friend Lady Olivia Sherwyn. Let me introduce you." He saw Colin's eyes widen as he called Olivia ‘his friend'.

"An honor to meet you Lady Sherwyn" said Lady Cressida, before turning to Marcus.

"Your lordship has forgotten that we are engaged for the next dance," she purred.

Marcus knew this was not the case but nodded anyway. His mother had befriended Lady Cressida and no doubt this had given rise to expectations of romance. He needed to be kind, as he had no intention of proposing.

He reluctantly offered his arm to Lady Cressida and left Olivia and the group and joined the dance floor for a cotillion. His partner did her best to draw him into conversation, gazing up at him with her beautiful gray eyes and her rouged lips. She was very beautiful, but he didn't feel his heart skip a beat when he anticipated their hands touching in the dance.

I shall be polite, but I do wish you would stop flirting with me, he thought. He remained solicitous, but aloof, as he talked with her when the steps of the dance allowed. I've never given you any encouragement in the past and there is no connection, no spark between us.

Every so often he caught a glimpse of Olivia dancing with another partner, green gauze floating around her, ribbons bobbing in the air. This morning, he had no idea that tonight he would be dancing with the mystery lady he had met, in the autumn, in a woodland glade. His heart felt glad that Cendrillon was back in his life.

***

Her face stared back at her from the mirror, eyes glowing dark in the candlelight.

He should have proposed by now. If I have to spend much more time with his insipid mother, then I swear I shall collapse with boredom. I have no interest in tapestry or delivering baskets to elderly villagers.

She peered at her reflection, liking what she saw.

I have no scars. My face is perfect. I am the belle dame. She is nothing.

Fury coursed through her veins at the memory of Olivia Sherwyn, dancing in the arms of Lord Hatfield.

How can he be so captivated by a young woman with such a disfigured face? I will not tolerate this.

The cold, blue sapphires in her platinum blonde hair sparkled in the candlelight. She felt no emotion, only cold, hard determination.

Olivia Sherwyn is my rival now. I swear that she will not land Lord Hatfield as a catch. He is mine.

She measured the herb, confident the charm would enhance her beauty and draw in her intended suitor.

I think we will be married in September, then an extended honeymoon in the south of France. I long to visit my homeland. Now the Emperor Napoleon is defeated, I can travel south again. How I long for the hot sunshine of Antibes, instead of this dull, gray climate.

She poured more liquid into the bowl, adding wormwood the way that her grandmother had taught her. She inhaled the scent of absinthe. Something sizzled as she whispered ancient words of the love charm to the Goddess Venus.

She tossed her head back laughing and drank her potion. Soon, very soon, she would be Lady Hatfield, and once the old duke had died, and he couldn't last much longer, then she would be Duchess of Hargrove, reigning as one of the highest ladies of the land.