CHAPTER FIVE

The doors to the ballroom had been kept closed, even to the family, for two days.

Emilia had not known what her mother was planning, but she could scarcely believe her eyes when she entered the room.

If Christmas had not arrived in the rest of the house, it was certainly front and centre in the ballroom. Garlands hung from the mantelpiece, and holly had been placed all around the large mirror. The drinks table was filled with bowls of bright red punch, and holly leaves were sprinkled across it. Kissing boughs hung from the edge of the table, and ribbons in gold, green, and red danced throughout the room.

Emilia caught her mother’s eye where she stood greeting her guests and saw a spark of her old self appear as she grinned in excitement. They had both always adored Christmas, and having the chance to show off the house with a ball was a wonderful thing.

The guests made their way inside, exclaiming at the beautiful décor; swathes of silk and velvet spun across Emilia’s vision and everyone looked excited and jubilant chatter filling the air.

Emilia was surprised to find herself eagerly anticipating one man’s entrance over all the others. The Earl of Bellebrook had intrigued her to such an extent that she could not get the man out of her mind. She wondered if he might address his odd behaviour, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her as she eagerly watched the doorway.

As her fingers plucked incessantly at the beading on her gown, her eyes fell on another newcomer to the ballroom. Lady Seraphina Cheswick glided into the room between her parents, the Marquess and Marchioness of Chesingdale. Everyone’s attention was caught by their arrival; Seraphina looked like a swan in her white gown against the deep red and strict black of her mother and father.

Emilia’s stomach tightened at the sight of them, but she quickly fixed a smile in place. She knew how important it was to her mother and father that the Chesingdale’s had agreed to attend the ball, and it was imperative that she made a good impression. It seemed to Emilia that the whispers in the hall reached a crescendo, and she felt on display and ill at ease as she imagined everyone referencing her recent scandal.

She stood up straight, raised her chin, and refused to let slander and gossip influence her. She had never done anything wrong, and she intended to show the world that.

The ballroom was a lively prospect, and as they approached the doorway, Lionel’s facelit up in a grin. Adam, on the other hand, felt nerves so strong that he thought he might cast up his accounts on the beautifully polished floor. To distract himself, Adam offered his arm to his aunt and manfully led her into the fray.

He was acutely aware that the one lady he had always relied upon was no longer on his arm. Anastasia had been a flawless companion at such functions, speaking when Adam had been tongue-tied and always ready to speak to anyone in her vicinity.

He had not realised how much he had relied upon her until he was suddenly amongst so many strangers. The room was brash, loud, and overcrowded. There were signs of Christmas everywhere, and the sight of them set his teeth on edge. Every tinkle of glass, raucous laugh, and the varied colours of rich greens and reds further cemented his wish to runquickly in the opposite direction and hide beneath a table in an empty room.

“Ah, there is Lady Seraphina. Does she not look well?”

Adam glanced at the lady. She was very beautiful in the way that many women of good breeding could be. She looked haughty in her expression, eyes narrowing at the dancefloor as though she were looking for anyone worthy enough to mark her card.

“I can see her, Aunt Augusta. Thank you for pointing her out,” Adam replied as Lionel gave him a weary look over his mother’s head.

Adam’s gaze was drawn to their hosts. Lord and Lady Sternwood were speaking to the Pinkertons, an older couple who were well-known in society for their long and loving relationship and overly enthusiastic presence at almost every ball of the season. But as he watched Lord Pinkerton speaking with Lady Sternwood, another figure came into view.

Standing demure and quiet behind her mother, a dark red vision caught his eye.

Adam stared at Emilia as the fog of grief lifted, the notes from the pianoforte springing into his mind as though her face alone conjured the music. Her sharp features were framed beautifully by her hair, a lock of it tumbling past her high cheekbones. Those captivating eyes were looking toward the floor, her shoulders tense as she glanced about the room.

Adam looked away, discomfited and growing more irritable by the moment. She reminded him of Bach’s melody. That lilting, rising ecstasy that became increasingly beautiful the more one listened to it.

This is quite ludicrous, he admonished himself; I am no longer fifteen years old.

“Must you appear so revolted by the place?” Augusta inquired sharply beside him. “It is Christmas, Adam. You are here to enjoy yourself. If you spend the entire fortnight with a face like thunder, no one will invite you to anything again.”

Adam was not given the opportunity to respond to his aunt’s harsh words, however, as suddenly there was a commotion at the doorway of the ballroom. They all turned to look at the man who had entered. Adam suppressed a curse at the sight of Mr Frederick Bentley, a connection long neglected and best forgotten.

Straight, tall, and formidable, Frederick Bentley was a distant paternal cousin of Adam’s and wasdue to inherit the Bellebrook estate should Adam fail to produce an heir. Adam masked a grimace as he watched Frederick’s charming smile illuminate the room. Adam knew all too well how deceiving it could be.

Frederick stood beside his mother, Mrs Verity Bentley, who was stooped and frail on his arm, peering about her with a look of confused interest. As they shook hands with the Sterlings, Adam heard Augusta tut beneath her breath.

“What in the world is Frederick doing here?” Augusta asked, sounding baffled.

“Mrs Verity is very close to Lady Camilla,” Lionel muttered, keeping his voice low.

“Oh, of course, what rotten luck; they must have been invited to the house party as well. I declare I would never have come if I had known I would need to spend time with them in such close quarters.”

There wasn’t an ounce of truth in his aunt’s words, of course. Adam knew she would have come regardless, but Frederick’s presence would make the next few days even more trying for Adam, and he did not need any other reasons to want to run for the hills.

Frederick was handsome, and his manners afforded him many friends, but Adam knew of the darkness that resided within. The man was a veracious gambler and had squandered much of his own fortune at a young age in gambling hells about London.

His tongueand his face had afforded him some significant influence with certain members of the Ton, and he used their good feelings insatiably.

Adam knew he could ruin Frederick with a few words in the right ears if he so chose, but it was not in his nature to do so—even if he did intensely dislike the man.

Fredericks's eyes were already darting about the floor, seemingly assessing each woman as though he were looking at prizes at an auction. It wasn’t long before Frederick spotted them and nodded. Adam knew they could not avoid speaking to the man.

“There is no avoiding it, I suppose,” Augusta muttered, echoing Adam’s thoughts perfectly.

“Frederick’s propensity to shoot and play cards has won him many friends. Not to mention the fact that Lord Sternwood can afford to lose to him, they are regularly seen at White’s playing piquet, so I’m told.” Lionel’s voice was a low murmur, but his eyes were sharp as he watched their cousin move toward them.

“Of course they are. Men will be men,” Augusta grumbled, her mouth compressed in a firm line before she pasted a strained smile onto her face. “You will mark Lady Seraphina’s card this evening, Adam,” Augusta insisted, making the nerves roll through Adam’s gut. “It is your duty to all of us never to allow that man anywhere near Bellebrook Manor. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Aunt,” Adam replied resignedly, lamenting his position and wishing Anastasia were still there to defend him. Before he could be dragged back into the mire of his thoughts, however, Mr Frederick and his mother approached them. Frederick wore his patented supercilious smile, and his eyes didn’t leave Adam’s for a moment.

Mindful of his aunt’s words, he affected a light smile. Even that tiny effort felt like it drained all of the energy from his body, and he could not wait to be alone in his bed chamber and hide under the covers until dawn.

“Lady Spencer, Lord Spencer, Lord Bellebrook,” Frederick said as he bowed to them all. “I had no idea you were attending this event, and I am so pleased to be able to spend some quality time with such esteemed members of my family.”

His mother’s eyes were adoring as she looked at her son. Everything Frederick did was perfect in the eyes of Mrs Bentley and Adam knew she was unaware of his gambling debts.

Frederick’s short black hair had been slicked back, showing off his prominent features. He had very pale blue eyes, a wide smile, straight white teeth and a perpetually amused expression.

When Adam was younger, Frederick’s charm and charisma had quickly deceived him, as it did to many. They had been firm friends in their early teens, but it had not taken long for Adam to understand his true nature. Frederick acted for himself alone and had little regard for anything but the expansion of his fortunes. His gaze was calculating, and behind it was a hint of challenge, but Adam kept his smile in place.

“Frederick, it’s a pleasure to have you with us once more,” Adam said, his tone courteous but lacking true warmth. He turned to Mrs Verity Bentley with a polite, restrained smile. “And Mrs Bentley, how are you faring? I had heard you were quite unwell in the autumn.”

Mrs Bentley’s rather vacant expression turned to him, and she smiled wanly. “Indeed, I was most unwell, but my son cared for me every day. He is the very best of men.”

Adam felt his aunt stiffen considerably and nodded to Frederick. “A noble thing to do, I am sure. Will you be staying for the events to come?”

“Most certainly. Lady Sternwood has been adamant that I should remain for everything,” he leaned in close, affecting a humble expression. “I do not believe Lord Sternwood would hold this gathering without me.” He leaned back again, smug in his own self-importance, and Adam struggled to stop himself fromrolling his eyes.

“We are delighted you are here,” Augusta said, sounding so sincere that Adam was rather taken aback.

His gaze wandered as Mrs Bentley and his aunt began speaking of the beauty of the room,falling once again on the demure and stunning woman on the edge of it. It occurred to Adam in that moment that Lady Emilia Sterling was by far the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

***

Emilia’s fingers fluttered at her skirts as she waited for the guests to settle before taking her seat at the pianoforte.

Her mother had arranged a small performance before the ball began. She could hear the odd chord from a cello and the trill of a violin from the other room as the players began setting up for the dance ahead.

She noticed the tall form of Lord Bellebrook at the back of the room as he leaned down to speak with his aunt. He was accompanied by the man Charlotte had spoken of earlier in the day, and Emilia could quite see how she might like the look of him. His dark hair was a contrast to Bellebrook’s ash-blond style, but their eyes were almost identical in colour. Emilia realised she was staring and swiftly looked away.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she looked at the keys, all of the nightmares and shadows of her past threatening to weigh her down. Everyone in the room was impossibly still, as though they were all holding their breath. A cruel part of her mind conjured images of women gripping the hands of their husbands, knowing of her reputation and attempting to protect their men from her influence.

She closed her eyes, trying to settle her thundering heartbeat. The piece she had chosen was one of Beethoven’s more difficult melodies. She knew she would need a challenge to occupy her in the weeks leading up to the event, and she had practised for hours to ensure that she could play it perfectly.

She took a deep breath, memorising the beginning few bars of the sheet music ahead of her, and placing her fingers gently on the cold keys.

As she began to play, she was gratified when the old feelings flooded back. The world faded away, and all that existed was her fingers on the piano and the music rising and falling, her whole body singing with it as though a part of her came alive at its presence.

Her fears, her hopes and her longing for acceptance danced through the bars and over the notes as she continued to play. The piece spoke of the joy of the Christmas season, the excitement that she had once felt at this sacred time, and her own desperate urge to be seen.

As she played, Emilia fantasised that the music itself might somehow wash away the stain of scandal, and she would be reborn anew.