| |
December 15, 1818
O
h, my goodness.
“I’m not certain I can do this, Your Grace,” Nora whispered as she peered into the cheval mirror to check her appearance for what had to be the ninth time.
The Duchess of Whittington clicked her tongue as she picked a tiny bit of lint from one of the capped sleeves on Nora’s gown. “Pish posh, my dear. It’s but a rout. Nothing that will give you worries.” Her gown of a deep crimson silk made her the personification of Christmastide.
“Perhaps to you. I’ve never been in such a social situation before.” She sighed when the duchess’ lady’s maid continued to twist and pin her hair up in an exquisite style. Nora had no idea who she was once the transformation was completed. “I confess, I’m quite intimidated.” The borrowed gown of silver satin shimmered in the candlelight as did the silver net overskirt. Clear glass beads were scattered over the fabric, and each time she moved, sparkle caught the eye. Soft tulle decorated with the same beads lined the bodice, enhancing her modest bosom and was low enough to reveal a scandalous amount of skin. Matching silver satin slippers, white elbow-length gloves, and diamond-encrusted combs in her hair completed the ensemble. “This is too much.” The cost of the outfit alone was more than the meager pay she brought in all year by being the duke’s nurse.
“Now, now. Every woman should at least feel special once in her life.” The duchess exchanged an exasperated look with her maid. “That’ll be all, Celine. I’ll take care of the rest.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” the maid said with a hint of a French accent clinging to her tones. She exited the room, and the soft click of the door closing behind her echoed in the silence.
“Now, let’s have a look at you.” The duchess turned Nora about and then roved a critical eye up and down her person. “I’m so glad the seamstress was able to make the alterations in time, for this gown was made for you.”
“It’s embarrassing how low the neckline is,” Nora whispered. When she tried to tug it up, the duchess gave her hands a light tap.
“None of that. It’s perfect as it is, and quite stylish with what the other ladies will be wearing.” Her smile was quite mysterious. “Besides, I’ve invited many single men for tonight’s event. Perhaps you’ll catch an eye or two.”
“Oh, I’m not certain I’d want that.” But an image of Griffin sprang into her mind. How would he react at seeing her in such a fine gown? “I feel as if I were living out a fairy story in this borrowed dress, and at midnight I’ll return to the unwanted woman I always am, the one who lives on the fringes, outside looking in.” Obviously, if she’d admitted that to the duchess, her mind wasn’t in the right place.
“Don’t fret, dear. We haven’t reached the end of the story, have we?”
Nora frowned. “I wouldn’t know. This week has been the height of bizarre.”
“But no less entertaining and interesting despite that, yes?” The sudden gleam in the duchess’ eye surprised her. “You’ve had fun, enjoyed laughter, as well as other particulars that make the holidays special, haven’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“And you’ve done what Whittington and I have asked of you where Griffin is concerned?”
“Yes.” Heat infused her cheeks, and she hoped the duchess would contribute her high color to excitement or nerves for the rout that would begin in minutes. “He and I have spent time together. When we went caroling, he seemed at ease and was quite congenial with the tenants.” And oh, that kiss after the snowball fight! “I think he’ll do fine as the duke someday.”
“Excellent news!” The duchess smiled. “Has he treated you well?”
“Of course, Your Grace. Lord Hollingsworth has been a gentleman, with nothing but caring and concern in his demeanor.” As well as a bit of desire... but his mother didn’t need to know that. Nor did she need to guess that Nora had stupidly gone and started the fall into love with him. Only folly lay in that direction.
“The two of you get on together, don’t you?” The duchess moved across the dressing room and retrieved a flat wooden box from the top of an ivory-inlaid table.
“I suppose so. We have a few things in common, so that helps with the conversation.”
“He’s quite dashing, and he’ll look even more fine tonight in evening clothes,” the other lady said in a conversational tone. “Perhaps he’ll catch the eye of a lady this evening. It would be ever so nice to see him engaged by Twelfth Night. Oh, his father and I would consider that the best anniversary present.”
“I don’t doubt that any lady would be a ninny if she didn’t see what a catch your son was,” Nora responded in a quiet voice as unshed tears crowded into her throat. If that did indeed happen, how could she bear it? To see the earl each day but know she could never have him in the way a titled lady could. “Did you wish for me to steer him in the direction of someone in particular?” Because, after all, she was only doing what the duke and duchess had ordered, this being in his company. It was a product of her own silly heart and the romance inherent during the Christmastide season that she’d developed feelings for him.
“Oh, no, dear. I want you to enjoy the evening for your own sake. I’m certain Griffin has the intelligence to choose a life companion for himself.” As the duchess joined Nora, she opened the box. On a bed of black satin, a necklace rested. Small oval diamonds twinkled in the candlelight as well as the finest emeralds of the same size, all set in silver. Delicate workmanship had twisted thin pieces of that metal into vines with tiny silver leaves, the branches of which held the jewels. She’d never seen such extravagance before. “I’d also like for you to wear this jewelry tonight.”
Nora gasped, for how could she not? “Why?” With a gloved fingertip, she touched one of the diamonds. “I couldn’t possibly—”
“You can and you will. It completes your ensemble, in any event.” In short order, the duchess took it from the satin nest, put it about Nora’s neck and fastened the clasp. “This was the necklace I wore on my first appearance in society, so it’s only fitting that you wear it now.”
Allowing one moment to indulge in vanity, Nora turned about and looked into the cheval mirror. “It’s gorgeous. I’ll be conscious of it all night.” She couldn’t keep her eyes from the sparkling jewels.
The duchess smiled. “I’m sure once you arrive downstairs, you’ll find other things to occupy your attention.”
“This isn’t at all me,” Nora whispered in a last effort to dissuade the other woman. “All of this,” she gestured at herself, “is naught but a lie.”
“Only if you believe so.” The duchess patted her shoulder. “But you can also believe you deserve everything lovely in life after what you’ve gone through already.” She held Nora’s gaze. “Enjoy the evening, Miss Ridley. I wish you nothing but happiness. Be certain to wrangle a dance out of Griffin. He dances better than he sings.”
They both shared a laugh. Then Nora forced a heavy swallow into her tight throat. “I’m afraid, Your Grace.”
“Of?”
Of many things, the biggest of which was that Griffin would realize she hadn’t any place in his world, despite the fact she might wear the trappings of such for a few hours. “Of reality,” she finally whispered. “Of not being good enough.”
Of losing Griffin to someone more suitable.
Of being alone well past Twelfth Night.
Of being unwanted.
“Pish posh, my dear. It’s only nerves. We all suffer them.” The duchess took her hand. “Come. I’ll escort you personally to the ballroom. We’ve decided to utilize that room because it’s the largest. Whittington has also requested a card room be organized and there’s a ladies’ retiring lounge should you find yourself fatigued.”
Nora let the other woman pull her from the room. What else could she do?
The duchess went on, either not noticing Nora’s silence or not worried about it. “We’ll make use of the terrace since the weather is fair, though chilly. But that’s all to the good, for with so many bodies in one place, there will undoubtedly be a crush and heat.”
Knots made themselves known in Nora’s belly. Her nerves felt strung too tight, and the butterflies were not the kind from excitement. The urge to retch grew strong, but she kept it in check by swallowing quickly a few times in succession.
All too soon they reached the ballroom. The buzz of excited conversation blended with laughter in the air. Candlelight from the large crystal chandelier hanging from the middle of the ceiling put everyone in a soft glow and rendered them beautiful. Colorful skirts caught the eye; scents of perfumes, powders, and pomades teased the nostrils. The heavenly strum of the five-piece string orchestra hired on for the event floated across the ears.
“What a marvelous showing,” Nora said as she tried to take it all in.
“Indeed, and just imagine how this room will look for our next event once all the holiday greenery is in place.” The duchess smiled. She waved. “Oh, look, Whittington is summoning me. I must run, my dear. Enjoy yourself.”
Just when she assumed that she’d drift over to the side of the room where a few country wallflowers sat whispering behind their fans, Griffin strode over the floor and greeted her with a half-bow from the waist.
And Nora lost her ability to breathe. Good heavens, he was handsome before, but in his dark evening clothes and sapphire blue waistcoat embroidered with snowflakes, he was magnificent. A matching sapphire stickpin lay nestled within the crisp white confines of his cravat, that had been fashioned into an intricate knot for the occasion. But what caught and held her attention was the excited glow in his coffee-brown eyes, as if he’d discovered an absolutely ravishing secret and he couldn’t wait to share it.
“Good evening, Miss Ridley.” Griffin took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re this side of ethereal tonight.” Then he kissed her middle knuckle but refused to let go of her hand.
A tremble of pleasure tumbled down her spine. “Thank you, but I feel like such a fraud.” If he hadn’t noticed her anxiety yet, he certainly would soon. “Fine feathers don’t make a fine bird sometimes.”
“Nonsense. Whether you’re bedecked in sackcloth or silk, it matters not, for any nodcock can see your heart and spirit shining through.” As the current set ended and the polished parquet floor emptied, he tightened his hold on her hand. “Would you do me the honor of this next dance? I fear if I don’t ask now, your evening will be thoroughly booked.”
“What gammon you speak.”
“Oh? Why have a look at the men angling for a moment of your time,” he whispered as he led her onto the floor. “You’ve managed to become the focal point of this rout, and that makes me fiercely proud of you.”
Heat slapped at her cheeks from his praise. “I’m the same woman I was last night.”
“Indeed, and the notice would remain the same regardless.” When he slipped a hand to the small of her back and held the other one in the proper position, she rested her free hand on his shoulder. As he smiled down at her, she tumbled deep into the depths of his eyes. “I’m not best pleased with Mama and Papa for insisting you do the pretty with all of us during the Christmastide season.”
“Oh? Why?” She both wanted but dreaded his answer.
“Because all eyes are on you when I very much want you for myself,” he said against the shell of her ear, moments before the first strains of the waltz began and he guided her into movement.
“You do?” Her heartbeat in double time, for surely she couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“I do.” When he waggled his eyebrows, she couldn’t help her giggle. “It’s my fondest hope you feel the same. However,” he led her around the first turn in the dance and when they came back together, he continued, “we’ll discuss that in a more private venue.”
“All right.” What would she tell him? How exactly did she feel if she set aside her doubts? He’d be a duke someday, and he’d need a woman much better suited than she to fill the role of duchess. But oh, how lovely it was to think about if only for this night. For after that, what she harbored for Griffin was naught but the silly hopeful feelings of a spinster at Christmastide. The season was rife with emotion, and she let herself be caught up in it. Once Twelfth Night arrived, the magic would fade, and the family would return to their lives in London. She would go back to being the nurse to the current duke, and Griffin... He would use his newfound confidence to forge his own path.
As it should be. Yet...
Confusion fell over her like a wave the longer she spent in his arms during the waltz. Her feet scarcely touched the floor, and when she held his gaze, let his grin and the warmth of him seep into her, she forgot herself for the moment and gave herself up to the intimacy and the joy found in the dance. Other couples crowding the dance floor faded away; she forgot the existence of everyone else in the room. They moved as one, and with each turn of the room, he reeled her a tiny bit closer to himself until her breasts brushed his chest and her legs occasionally rubbed his. This glimpse into a life she hadn’t been born to was both fascinating and intimidating.
I’ll lose him merely due to class difference.
All too soon, the waltz ended, but Griffin didn’t release his hold on her hand. “Do you fancy a stroll on the terrace? It looks quite inviting.”
“I shouldn’t...”
“But I’m going to insist,” he said softly as he guided toward the three sets of double doors thrown open to invite in the chill of the December evening. “As a future duke, you see.”
“Using your privilege against me, Lord Hollingsworth?” she asked in an equally soft voice, but she tempered it with a smile. A handful of additional seconds in his company wouldn’t hurt her, yet it would only postpone the inevitable.
“Perhaps.”
As they left the noise and the crush of the ballroom, she gasped when the evening’s cold slipped over her exposed skin. The terrace spanned nearly one side of the castle. The way the house was laid out made certain it was sheltered by the walls of the edifice on three sides. One of the turrets loomed like a silent sentinel in the dark of the night. Once at the low stone wall about a portion of the terrace, she peered down into the winter-bare gardens.
“The frost sparkles like diamonds on the evergreen shrubs and trees.” It was very much like a fairy story, but she’d long ago grown out of those, despite the fact she’d likened herself to one earlier in the evening with the duchess.
Griffin came to a stop next to her, and the warmth of him was welcome. “I always adored the winter, especially here at Ivy Castle. One doesn’t see much of nature’s glory while in London.”
“That’s true enough, and I rarely do while there. Your father keeps me busy.” Oh drat. It was nearing the time the duke required his evening dose of the tincture.
“I’m glad you’re the one taking care of Papa.”
“Why? There are other women training in apothecary work that can do the same.” He was so charming and handsome, and he smelled so good! Oh, it would hurt so much to let him return to his life, but she would because that’s what he needed, and she certainly wasn’t the selfish type.
“Then I’d never have met you.” His arms were around her before she knew what he was about, but she didn’t offer a protest. Instead, sighed, and moments later, he claimed her lips in a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes. This was something she would treasure with all her heart. This whole week had been, but it was time for her to transform back into the woman she really was—pumpkin and all.
She planted a palm against his chest and gave him a push until the kiss broke. “Griffin, we should—”
“Please, let me speak first before I lose my nerve,” he interrupted as he took her hand. In the dim light from the moon, his eyes had taken on an intense look. “I like to think of myself as an intelligent man, if a shy one.”
“You’re just not accustomed to being around people.”
“I’m not but having you by my side helps with that. You bring a unique calm to my situation.” He rubbed a gloved thumb over her knuckles, and a shiver went down her spine. “This week has been nothing short of wonderful, Nora, and that’s largely because of you.”
“It’s nothing. I’m not that special, merely befriended you when you needed it.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s much more than that. This week has shown me that I need you in my life permanently.”
“Oh, Griffin, please don’t say anything else.” Her chest tightened with the effort of keeping her emotions under control, of trying not to cry in front of him, for this would slash at the confidence he’d found.
“I must. I can’t help it.” He took both of her hands in his. “Miss Nora Ridley, will you please marry me and be with me for more than just friendship?”
Never had she wanted to hear those words more, and never had she felt as wretched as she did right now, for this wasn’t right. Her heart squeezed painfully as twin threads of panic and regret wove down her spine. “Thank you for the offer, but I think it was given in haste with nothing more than the magic of Christmastide as a prompt.” She swallowed, but tears filled her eyes anyway. “I can’t marry you, Griffin, for you deserve so much more than me.”
“What?” The shock and hurt in his eyes sent cold regret smacking into her so violently that she stumbled back a few steps, pulling her hands from his grasp. “Why the devil not? I thought we shared a connection, had something solid between us...”
The catch in his voice became her undoing. With a sob, Nora fled the terrace, blinded by her tears and the unfairness of life. Despite the cold and the scant few inches of snow on the ground, she ran and ran and ran through the gardens, deeper still through the bare landscaping until she couldn’t go any farther. Then, shaking and heartsick, she hid behind a grouping of oak trees, her back against a trunk while she tried to catch her breath. The handful of leaves still clinging to a few branches rattled in the faint breeze, and she gave into a massive shiver.
It had been both the most wonderful and most horrible night of her life, and one from which she’d never recover. She’d made certain Griffin couldn’t make the poor choice he’d been bent upon, no matter if it had shattered her own heart. As sobs shook her body, she buried her face in her gloved hands. Surely, he wouldn’t come after her; dukes didn’t marry poor relations with nothing to their names. Yet part of her silly heart she hoped he might even if it was folly.
Even if her answer would remain the same.
“Damn it, Nora, you owe me an explanation, and I’m not leaving until you give it to me.” He’d followed her; of course he did, and at long last, the authority of a soon-to-be duke rang in his tones.
It both thrilled and frightened her, for he’d finally found his identity and had come into his own... without her.