Chapter 2

CHAPTER2

“He is watching us again,” Nancy Swinton whispered, taking a seat at the edge of the ballroom.

Her cousin, Marina Wilkins, squinted at the crowd that ebbed and flowed throughout the majestic room, some dancing, some retiring, some trying to catch the attention of a potential prospect, some taking a pause as Marina and Nancy were doing.

“I do not see him,” Marina said, chewing on her lower lip. “Are you certain?”

Nancy nodded. “I felt my skin crawling, and then I saw him.” She lowered her voice further. “He is standing over there by the orchestra, next to the pillar with—I think it is supposed to be a cherub, but it is a rather ugly one. Whatever it is, he is there, watching us.”

“I see him!” Marina hissed, the color draining from her face. “What manner of wretch is he, to stare so openly at two young ladies? And where the devil is my mother?”

Nancy shuddered. “I do hope nothing has happened to her.”

“Oh, she is likely gossiping with some old acquaintances she has stumbled upon while fetching her tenth cup of punch, and has quite forgotten that you and I exist,” Marina grumbled. “What should we do? Do you see anyone we might claim sanctuary with?”

Nancy pursed her lips and shook her head. “The entirety of the tonmust be here tonight, yet I do not recognize a soul. How can that be?”

“You have grown too accustomed to northern gatherings,” Marina teased lightly. “The northern contingent of the tonrarely venture south unless it is to attend balls in London or Bath, and the southern contingent are forever making excuses not to venture north. Then, there is the matter of the debutantes to consider—a fresh batch to halve our chances of finding husbands.”

Nancy reached for the teapot in the center of the table and poured a cup for herself and her cousin, to steady their nerves. As she took a sip, she contemplated her cousin’s words. It was true that she had spent most of her time in the North over the past year or so visiting her beloved sister, Joanna, at Bruxton Hall. And her sweet nephew, Bernard.

Indeed, she was beginning to think she preferred the northern balls and gatherings, for no one had ever harassed her there, and if they did, the northern gentlemen were quick to defend her honor.

“If my sister were here, she would chase that beastly man away,” Nancy mumbled, wishing she was half as brave as her older sister. “Indeed, that fellow would not dare to approach me, if he knew who my brother-in-law was.”

Marina smiled. “How is your sister?”

“Very pregnant,” Nancy replied. While she was fast approaching her twenty-second birthday without so much as an offer of courtship from a charming gentleman, Joanna would soon give birth to her second child. “Apparently, she is furious with everyone for making her stay in bed, but it seems that her condition has improved.”

There had been some sort of complication in the pregnancy, though Nancy did not understand what, which had driven her mother and father to Bruxton Hall to take care of their eldest daughter. Nancy had been invited to join them, but not wanting to delay her own future happiness, she had chosen to stay in the South with her mother’s sister and cousin. She and her aunt were rather distantly acquainted, for they had fallen out of touch some years prior and only recently resumed contact.

My father’s fault.

Though, her father was making amends for it now, doing his best to be the father and husband that he should have been all along.

“Well, I am pleased you have not absconded to the North with your mother and father,” Marina said shyly. “It is nice to have company my own age.”

Nancy smiled. “You have been a revelation, Marina. I do not think I could endure this Season without you.”

Marina was no replacement for Joanna, but as they continued to get to know one another, Nancy was becoming exceptionally fond of the cousin she had only met a handful of times over the two decades of her existence.

“Neither could I,” Marina admitted, gesturing to the ballroom entrance. “For one thing, I would be sitting here entirely alone, absolutely burning with embarrassment at the disapproving looks. Although, I suppose they are preferable to the looks that come when my mother is in her cups, wailing inappropriately.”

Nancy stifled a laugh. “Well, we have one another now.”

“Indeed, we do.” Marina glowed with happiness, sipping her tea.

They might have enjoyed a pleasant hour or two, drinking tea and waiting for Nancy’s aunt to return, had it not been for the thorn in their contentment: a wastrel who had set his gaze upon them ever since their arrival and had not stopped hounding them since. Every time they thought they had lost him, he reappeared like a bad penny.

At that moment, the bad penny showed up at the side of their table, having approached without either of them realizing it.

“Good evening, ladies,” he purred, running a hand across thinning hair that had been oiled to such an extent that the liquid oozed down the sides of his face. Either that or he perspired excessively.

Nancy shot him a glare. “As you can see, we are awaiting the return of our chaperone. Please, leave us be.”

“There is no need for a chaperone,” the man replied, almost vibrating with vile excitement. “I shall accompany you to the dance floor, Lady Nancy. Your… friend can be your chaperone.”

Nancy sucked in a sharp breath. “My cousin cannot be my chaperone. She is unmarried.”

“All the better,” the man said, licking his dry lips. “I will dance with you both, and you can pretend to be one another’s chaperones. I will not breathe a word.”

Nancy stood sharply, clutching her cup of tea as if she meant to hurl the hot contents at him. “Mr. Colby,” she warned, trying to emulate her sister’s strength, “if you do not leave us be, I shall summon Lord and Lady Bainton here and have you explain why you think it appropriate to approach two young ladies who have already—rather too politely, I should add—asked you not to.”

“Ah, so you are one of those, aren’t you?” Mr. Colby grinned, undeterred. “You reject a gentleman to stoke his interest. Makes it all the sweeter when you finally relent.”

Marina stood with her cousin. “No, Mr. Colby. Our rejection is not to stoke your interest, it is to douse it entirely. This is unseemly, sir.”

“Your opinion does not concern me,” Mr. Colby said, turning his nose up at Marina. “It is Lady Nancy I wish to entice.”

“And as her temporary chaperone, regardless of my lack of legitimacy in that realm, it is my duty to inform you that you must cease at once, or you will be marched from this ball,” Marina shot back, trying to catch the eye of the ladies and gentlemen at the neighboring tables. But they were too involved in their own conversations, or too unwilling to involve themselves in the plight of two unchaperoned ladies.

Mr. Colby took a step back. “There is no need for unkindness. I am merely revealing my pursuit.”

“You need not reveal anything, thank you,” Nancy retorted.

“Is that not what a ball is for?” Mr. Colby’s lip curled. “And neither of you are debutantes. You ought to be grateful for the attention, and at the first ball of the Season too!”

He had turned rather pale and waxy, with two livid blotches on his cheeks. The sign of a gentleman who did not like to be refused.

“Enough, Mr. Colby,” Nancy repeated as she took hold of Marina’s hand and led her around the table, putting it between them and the sour-face man. “If you follow us again, if you approach us again, I shall not hesitate to scream for help. Indeed, my dear Marina, I do believe I saw Monty heading out into the gardens. We must tell him, at once, what has occurred here, and see what he thinks of it.”

Mr. Colby blanched, losing what little color he had left in his face. Montague Harding was a decorated captain of the British cavalry and a renowned defender of helpless ladies. His name had appeared countless times in the newspapers and scandal sheets, having caused a great deal of harm to any gentleman who had so much as looked at a lady the wrong way. Yet, he was never punished, for those he punished were too afraid to try and prosecute a cavalry captain who glittered with medals.

“You know Mr. Harding?” Mr. Colby wheezed.

“Certainly, I do,” Nancy lied. “He is a friend of my brother-in-law.”

Before marrying Joanna, Nancy’s brother-in-law, Edwin, had been a known recluse among the ton, falsely suspected of murdering his brother and father, so it was fairly safe to make up friendships between him and others. Who would know any different?

“I see,” Mr. Colby muttered, retreating.

But Nancy was not content to remain in any room where he might suddenly muster up the desire to approach her and Marina again.

Nancy waited until she had seen Mr. Colby exit the ballroom and immediately guided Marina toward the doors that led into the gardens. It was likely the safest place for the pair until Marina’s mother returned from her attempt to drink as much punch as possible.

“I feel as if I need to bathe for a week,” Marina said as the two women wandered across the terrace and down the shallow steps into the main body of the garden.

For a while, they walked at their leisure, enjoying the manicured lawns and neat flowerbeds and the torchlight that gave the gardens a mystical feel. They reminded Nancy of the gardens at Bruxton Hall, and her heart ached to be near to her family again.

I should have waited until next Season.

But who was to say that her sister would not be with child again by next year? Nancy could not keep delaying, for the only reason she was not trapped in a marriage she did not want was because of her sister’s bravery.

Joanna had stepped forward when Nancy’s hand would have been offered to Edwin, and though it had worked out well for the happy pair, the fear of what might have been still plagued Nancy. And the fear of what could be if she did not find someone herself—an arranged match. No, she could not waste the gift that Joanna had given her, to find the romance, the all-consuming, timeless love that she had always dreamed of.

“Nancy, look!” Marina squealed suddenly as they came to the edge of the lake.

Nancy frowned. “What is it, Cousin?”

“There are cygnets!” Marina said, breaking away from her.

Nancy watched, bemused, as her cousin hurried along the water’s edge, toward a pagoda that partially tongued out into the lake.

Weary from the exceptionally infuriating evening she had already endured, Nancy saw no reason to follow; she could see Marina well enough from where she stood.

She is peculiar, but I rather like the strangeness.

Nancy turned her attention to the lake itself. Ever since she had been a little girl, she had been terrified by water like this—rivers, lakes, ponds, the sea—though she could not understand why. She had never fallen in, nor could she recall any incident of almost drowning, but it scared her, nonetheless. It was, perhaps, the fear of not knowing what might be lurking beneath, out of sight.

However, the lake looked astonishingly beautiful in the moonlight, the tiny wavelets glittering as they caught the silvery glow. And the night world had come alive, filled with sights and sounds that were forbidden in the daylight—the hoot of owls calling to one another, the shriek of foxes, the cooing of doves that were trying to slumber through the noise of the ball, and the rustle of hedgehogs creeping out of their hideaways to sip from the lake.

Every now and again, the sparkling surface rippled at the jump of a fish, startling her.

“Marina?” Nancy whispered, catching a glimpse of something moving toward her in the water. “Marina, come here.”

Marina was fond of all creatures and knew the Latin names of almost everything, waxing enthusiastic about different species of birds and insects. And, at that moment, Nancy really wanted to know what was moving through the water, headed right for her. It did not resemble a fish, its body longer and slimmer, and it moved strangely, undulating sideways.

Immediately, Nancy’s mind conjured visions of terrible creatures—sharks and snakes and crocodiles—but she could not step away from the water’s edge. Her body had frozen stiff, her fear anchoring her to the grass. Of course, part of her knew it could not be a shark or a crocodile, for this was a boating lake in the south of England, but the darkness had a way of making the impossible seem plausible.

“Marina,” Nancy whispered again, her throat tight.

Where had her cousin disappeared to? Marina had mentioned cygnets, but Nancy could not see any. Nor could she see even a glimpse of Marina.

The creature rippled closer, barely stirring the surface of the water, though Nancy was convinced she could see two beady, red eyes glinting at her. And ravenous fangs, ready to bite down.

All of a sudden, something grabbed her from behind, locking around her waist in a vice-like grip. At the same moment, she felt something tickle the curve of her neck, like a reptilian tongue flicking. For a fleeting, foolish second, she thought the creature had leaped from the water and wrapped itself around her, determined to squeeze the life out of her, but as she glanced back at the lake, the creature—a simple eel, as it turned out—had been startled by the sudden movement, diving down into the deep.

Panic seized her as she finally looked at the masculine arms around her. One thought flared in her mind like a warning beacon: Mr. Colby. He had followed her outside. He had seen her alone. He had leaped at the opportunity to take what he desired.

A scream erupted from her lips, pushed up her throat by terror itself. She writhed, twisting herself around to face Mr. Colby. In the dark, her eyes blurred by sudden tears of fright, she could not fully see who had grabbed her. Not that it mattered. No one should be grabbing her, scaring her out of her skin.

“Fire!” she yelled, remembering what her sister had told her years before, that she should always scream “fire” if she was in trouble, for people would always come running. “Fire! There is a fire!”

Without thinking, she drew her arm back, and with all the force she could muster, she drove her fist forward, into her attacker’s nose.

The man let go of her, staggering back as his hands flew up to protect his nose, two seconds too late. And as he groaned and winced, glaring down at her above his steepled fingers, she realized her mistake.

It was not Mr. Colby, but another gentleman entirely. An exceedingly handsome, thoroughly furious, blue-eyed treat of a man. Perhaps the most handsome gentleman she had ever seen.