Dressed like an Egyptian queen, Jolene felt out of place. Grace talked her into the outfit, but she thought it far too revealing. Her sentiments waned, however, when she arrived at a showcase of risqué-costumed women.
Alastair donned a seventeenth-century outfit looking like one of the three musketeers. With his thin mustache, he played the part well of a swashbuckling Frenchman. Grace and Robert went dressed as Romeo and Juliet. Robert appeared a bit miserable in his Elizabethan clothes, but Grace looked stunning.
When they entered the ballroom, an outlandish world of disguises filled the area. Masks differed from a mere covering over the eyes to fanciful feathered and bejeweled decorations worn by the ladies. Jolene chose a rather unadorned one in comparison.
In a matter of a few minutes, Alastair twirled her around the dance floor. The crowded room made the interior stifling. Catching her breath was difficult. Her skimpy costume at least gave her some relief compared to the voluminous dresses worn by other women.
“Thank you for accompanying me this evening.”
Alastair glanced into her eyes with a familiar gaze of affection, which he had been offering her for the past week. His daily visits to the Holland manor consisted of afternoon tea and walks in the garden. She could not deny him the privilege of her company in case it appeared rude. Inwardly, Jolene did not welcome his frequent social calls, resisting his mild-mannered advances.
There was no denying that Alastair Whitefield possessed admirable qualities. Wealthy, always well dressed and groomed, he appeared as the perfect model of any woman’s desire for an engaging beau. Alastair also exhibited protectiveness and loyalty to those he loved. Regardless of his good nature, Jolene found his keen attentiveness smothering. He rarely smiled, and on occasion, she would catch him brooding over what she surmised to be her lack of reciprocation. Though she felt encouraged by her family to spend more time with him, she really wished that she had the heart to express her sentiments.
“You are most welcome,” she replied. She looked into his hazel eyes and feigned a warm smile. “It is hot in this ballroom, don’t you think?”
“Indeed, it is.” After the music had ended, Alastair walked Jolene over to a chair. “Would you like to rest while I fetch you refreshment?” If only she had a fan, she could push some air across her sweaty brow.
“Oh, yes, please do,” she pleaded. Alastair quickly acquiesced to her request and left her shortly to fetch a cold drink. Jolene glanced around, searching for Robert and Grace. She spotted them across ballroom floor chatting with another couple.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice spoke, coming up from behind. “Look who is back in England. If it isn’t the infamous Komtesse von Lamberg.”
Jolene jolted. She quickly rose to her feet and spun around. The raking gaze of Geoffrey Chambers peered at her from behind his black mask. Dressed like a Roman legionnaire, she wanted to stab him as Brutus had done to Caesar. Her fears of their paths crossing had come to pass. The despicable degenerate who tried to rape her stood only a few feet away.
“Leave me alone,” she snarled.
“Really, Jolene. You have not changed a bit. Your arrogant air from the Continent oozes from your tantalizing body dressed in that outfit, oh queen of the Nile.” Geoffrey bowed at the waist and then drew slightly closer. She could feel his hot breath on her face as he leaned in and spoke. “I would happily be your Anthony, my dear, if you were my Cleopatra.”
“You unscrupulous beast,” she growled from her throat. “I am so glad your uncle threw your carcass out into the street before you had your unwelcomed way with me.”
Geoffrey reached out and grabbed her upper arm. His long fingers wrapped around her delicate bare flesh squeezing it tight. “You know you wanted it, you little whore.” He eyed her up and down. “You even look like one dressed in that outfit with your breasts plumped up like two juicy melons.”
Outraged by his remark, she tried to pull away, but he gripped her harder. “Let go of me!” While snarling at him and attempting to free herself from his painful grasp, her attention turned to an authoritative voice.
“Sir, the young lady has requested that you release her arm. If you do not do so in the next second, I’ll be forced to rip yours from its socket.”
His command boomed in Geoffrey’s direction. Jolene lifted her eyes to the stranger, pleading for help. Geoffrey scowled, obviously intimidated by the ultimatum received from a dominant male. He dropped his hand and stepped back from her body.
“We were merely having a conversation,” he snapped. “It’s frankly none of your damn business.”
“I make it my business when a man gruffly handles a woman. Now I suggest you leave before I’m forced to make a scene.”
Geoffrey looked at Jolene in contempt. “Our conversation is not over. Another time, perhaps, we will have the opportunity to conclude it without interruption.” After eyeing the man with scorn, he stormed off and disappeared into the crowd.
Jolene trembled and brought her hand to her chest trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
“Are you all right?” The stranger’s kind eyes emitted empathy, and his voice returned to a gentle tone.
“Yes, thank you!” She heaved a relieved sigh. “I don’t know what I would have done had you not come along to rescue me from that…”
Her words trailed off not wishing to make an offensive comment in front of him. Having composed herself, she finally took notice that he looked like Robin Hood. The outfit accentuated his virile physique, which she found most appealing.
“My pleasure. I am always happy to assist a damsel in distress. Robin Hood and all that,” he said, flashing a pearly smile. He paused and studied Jolene with interest. “I hope you don’t think me rude, but might I inquire your name?”
Without hesitation, she gladly replied. “Komtesse Jolene von Lamberg.”
“Ah, that explains the charming accent,” he said. “Viscount Derrington at your service.” He removed his hat and bowed at the waist. “I do hope this distressing incident will not spoil the remainder of your evening.”
Jolene had forgotten about Alastair, who she spotted approaching with a drink in his hand. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Might I be so bold as to ask if I may have the honor of spinning you on the dance floor?”
Alastair arrived preventing her from responding. She desperately wanted to accept his invitation.
“Here is your beverage,” he said. Alastair gave the unrecognized gentleman an inquisitive look.
Jolene took the chilled glass of champagne and took a sip to wet her dry lips. “Thank you. May I present Viscount Derrington?”
“A pleasure, sir,” Derrington responded to the introduction.
“And this is Mr. Whitefield, who has been kind enough to escort me this evening.” The brooding face that Jolene had seen before returned. “Perhaps I should explain, Alastair. While you were away, Viscount Derrington came to my rescue.”
“Rescue, did he? From what?”
“Geoffrey Chambers, I’m afraid.”
Immediately Alastair stiffened in his stance. His eyes darted about the ballroom looking for him.
“He roughly manhandled the young lady by her arm, and I felt compelled to intervene,” the viscount declared.
“Well then, I thank you for protecting her from that scoundrel.” Alastair stepped closer to Jolene as if to mark his territory.
“A young lady shouldn’t be left alone in a crowd this size,” Derrington said. It sounded as if Robin Hood had scolded one of his merry men for abandoning a female.
“She was parched and warm, so I asked her to sit and rest while I fetched a cold drink. I saw no harm in doing so,” he defensively declared.
Jolene cringed over his aggressive, heated reply.
“Please wait here a moment, if you will,” she instructed Viscount Derrington.
Jolene pulled Alastair a few feet away. “He invited me to dance, Alastair. I would like to accept if you do not mind. I really do owe him one dance for saving me from Geoffrey.” She reached out and touched his forearm tenderly. “I hope you understand.”
He dropped his shoulders and lowered his gaze to the glass in her hand.
“Yes, of course, Jolene. If you feel obligated, then by all means dance with him.” Disappointment filled his eyes.
Perhaps Jolene should have apologized, but as she stood in front of Alastair, she felt drawn toward the handsome viscount who awaited her answer. His undeniable male magnetism robbed her of clarity. Pushing aside any thought of the hurt her actions might inflict upon her escort, she swiftly gulped her drink and handed Alastair the empty glass. He grasped it as she spun around to face the viscount, who flashed a concerned glance.
“I hope that I am not causing you any distress,” he apologized. “It is not my intent to intrude into your escort’s affairs.”
“No, no. I spoke of my wish to accept your invitation to dance to thank you.” Jolene inhaled a breath to calm her jittery nerves. “Would it be convenient to do so now?”
His dark brown eyes sparkled from behind the green mask. “I would be delighted.” He held out his hand, which she eagerly grasped. Instantly, she found herself in his strong embrace, spinning her around the room.
Robert and Grace enjoyed the evening chatting with acquaintances and occasionally dancing a waltz. After stopping for refreshment, they wandered over to Alastair, finding him unaccompanied. Robert saw the foul look upon his friend’s face and knew something had to be amiss.
“You look as if you have bitten into a sour pickle,” he said. “Why are you standing here alone? Where is Jolene?”
“Over there dancing with another gent,” he answered morosely. Alastair nodded his head in the direction of the dance floor.
Grace’s eyes darted around the ballroom. “Over there, Robert, to your left. Who is that man?”
Alastair turned his back to the waltzing crowd not wishing to see the spectacle. “He says his name is Viscount Derrington,” he spewed.
“I’ve never heard of him,” Robert replied.
“Nor have I,” Alastair answered.
“Why is she with him?”
“I left her to rest a moment while I went to get her a glass of refreshment. While away, Geoffrey Chambers had a word with her and apparently gruffly grabbed her by the arm. Robin Hood came to the rescue.”
“Oh, my goodness!” Grace gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth.
“Where is that bloody ass?” Robert’s nostrils flared. His eyes darted about the ballroom. “So help me, I’ll kill him if he touches her again.”
“He disappeared into the crowd, I’m assuming, and I have not seen him.” Alastair slowly turned around looking for Jolene. “I suppose there is no harm in her dancing with the stranger to thank him for intervening.”
Robert finally caught sight of the pair. His sister’s face radiated. The man definitely caught her eye, which confirmed his earlier suspicions that his sister would not be receptive to Alastair’s pursuit.
“Well, it’s just one dance,” Grace commented. “It’s not as if she’s abandoned you for the entire evening.” Her attempt to cheer her brother landed on deaf ears.
“I’m concerned that Geoffrey may be still lurking around somewhere.” Robert continued to scan the crowd looking for his cousin. Of course, with everyone hiding behind masks and costumes, it proved impossible to pick him out of the gathering.
The waltz ended, and Robert turned his attention to Jolene, who walked arm in arm with her rescuer.
“Viscount Derrington, may I introduce you to my half brother, Robert Holland. The beautiful lady at his side is Lady Whitefield.” Alastair stood silently as a mouse, sporting a suspicious look at Jolene’s dance partner.
“A pleasure to meet you,” Viscount Derrington responded. “And Lady Whitefield, may I assume that you are related to Alastair?”
“Yes, I am. He is my brother.”
Robert glanced over at Grace to catch a silly smile on her face indicating her own keen interest in the handsome male. Surprisingly, a twinge of jealousy twisted in his heart at her reaction.
“I understand that you intervened on the komtesse’s behalf,” Robert said. “Thank you for doing so. I am ashamed to admit that he is my cousin, who possesses a rather distasteful personality.”
“It was providence that I happened to be nearby to witness the incident. I found it most disturbing, but any gentleman would have intervened.” Derrington glanced over at Jolene, and Robert caught the interest in his eyes.
“May I inquire of your family’s origins? I’m not familiar with the Derrington name.” Robert purposely pulled his attention back toward him.
“From the north, in York.”
“York? You are a long way from home. What brings you to London?” Robert continued the investigation.
“Brother, you sound as if you are examining him in a court of law. Must you intrude into his personal life?” Jolene’s surprise scolding caught Robert off guard.
“That is quite all right, Komtesse. To answer your question, I am here on family business.” Viscount Derrington’s curtness conveyed a slight irritation at the interrogation. “Now, if you will excuse me,” he announced. “I will take my leave. It’s been a pleasure to meet all of you.” Before he departed, he turned to Jolene. “Enjoy the remainder of your evening.” After those words, he left.
“You didn’t have to scare him off,” Jolene complained.
“I was merely making conversation,” Robert replied in a cross tone.
“Oh, Romeo, I doth need another dance,” Grace jested, pulling him away from the tense scene.
“Fine.” Irritated over what transpired, he took Grace’s hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. Frankly, he did not feel like waltzing, because his eyes were busy scanning the area for Geoffrey.
“You were a bit intrusive in your questioning,” Grace said.
“You think?” Robert smirked.
“I found his presence irksome,” she admitted.
He questioned her sincerity. “By the twinkle in your eye, you appeared to be enamored by the handsome Robin Hood.” Robert pulled her tighter against his body, making his claim.
“Enamored?” Her cheeks flushed.
“You heard me.”
“Oh, Romeo, you know I only have eyes for you,” she teased, batting her lashes.
The glow on her face confirmed it to be true. Nevertheless, the incident had produced his first pang of jealousy where Grace had been concerned. The Romeo and Juliet costumes had definitely gone to his head.