Faith studied herself in the mirror. She looked grand in her white silk gown with the slight bustle. Almost like a bride. She squirmed under the discomfort of the corset, but she had to admit it made her waist look so very, very tiny. She was like a delicate little bird, fragile to look at but…Her smile turned suggestive. She was anything but fragile under it all. She had put padding under her breasts, held in place by her corset, to make her bosom appear fuller. One little misstep and she would expose a nipple. She grinned wickedly into the mirror. How much excitement would that cause?
She glanced at her dressing table where the letter sat, the one Gavin’s friend (she refused to call her his wife; that was to be Faith’s role) had thought she mailed. Of course Uncle Eli was an honest man and would not have given it to her, so Faith had to sneak it out of the bag when he wasn’t looking.
Faith had steamed it open and her jaw dropped when she discovered what it was. My God! Robbie Fleming (again, she could not give her the Eliot name) actually wrote smut for those publications! The content itself not only titillated Faith, the very idea that the woman was pretending to be something she wasn’t was almost as exciting. Think of how Gavin would react when she showed it to him! He was almost hers.
She straightened her gloves, picked up her fan and, tucking the letter into a pocket on the side of her gown, gave herself one last admiring glance before making for the ball.
• • •
Robbie sat before her mirror and gazed at herself. The bodice of her gown, the incredible forest green satin that she had picked out all those weeks ago, fit her like a second skin. Her neck looked long and sleek, making the bare expanse of the bosom almost blinding. The long, white gloves felt strange next to her skin; she couldn’t remember ever having worn them before. She had told Maureen to take the rest of the evening off, attend the party, have some fun.
A rap on the door startled her. “Come in.”
Gavin entered, looking very handsome in his black dress coat and trousers. He wore a white vest, and when he brought his gloved hands from behind his back, he held a small box in them. Apparently very pleased with what he saw, he said, “Robbie, you look especially beautiful tonight.”
Grateful for her decollete, she thanked him. “As you do, my husband.”
“I have something for you; Mother brought it for me to give to my bride.”
“Then I’m lucky that I am that woman, aren’t I?” She did still feel a knot form in her abdomen when she thought about Birdie, who would have been the recipient had Gavin been a more observant man.
He opened the velvet box, and there lay the most beautiful pearl necklace Robbie could ever have imagined.
“Oh, Gavin, it’s too exquisite for me to wear.”
“Nonsense. And since I’m the first son in the family to marry, it’s yours.” He lifted it from the satin bed it lay in and put it around her neck, lifting her hair to fasten it. His touch made her tingle, and she thought she might cry she was so happy.
“It suits you, Robbie.”
She touched it with delicate fingers. It complemented the bareness of her skin, bringing out sparkling highlights in her hair that she had no idea were there. “Oh, my,” was all she could say.
“Indeed,” he replied, smiling down at her. “Now, are you ready to meet the world?”
She picked up her mother-of-pearl fan—something else she was unaccustomed to—and her dance card and took his arm, so excited that again she thought to pinch herself to make sure it was all real.
The ballroom was richly decorated and well lit, giving the room an ethereal quality that lent itself to the occasion. A young woman in a sweet pink moire frock played “Amazing Grace” quietly on her harp in the background. Robbie felt an immediate surge of emotion, for it had been her father’s favorite.
Robbie recognized a few of their neighbors, but there were a number of couples there she had not met. It was an eclectic gathering: farmers, tradesmen, and gentry. Her dance card was quickly filled, save for the dances she would reserve for her husband.
He bowed before her and kissed her hand, then led her onto the dance foor. The musicians opened with a waltz. Even though the instruments were of a rustic sort, the fiddles, the flutes, and the whistles made the waltz from Swan Lake recognizable. Gavin swept her around the dance floor. He was amazingly light on his feet, and she allowed him to whirl her across the wide expanse of the room, his hand at her waist and their fingers gently clasped.
Later, after she had danced with Colin and Durham and a number of her neighbors, she begged to rest and stood by Linnea, who was watching Cassie and her father twirl around the floor in a spritely quadrille.
At that moment, something caught Robbie’s eye. She made a face.
“What is it?” Linnea asked.
From behind her fan, Robbie announced, “Faith Baker just strutted into the room.”
“Wait,” Linnea said, “don’t tell me, let me guess.” Three women entered, one the wife of their nearest neighbor and the other her young daughter. The other was Miss Baker.
“The one who swaggered in like she’s the belle of the ball? Or a bride? Isn’t it rather gauche for a guest to wear white to another woman’s wedding ball?”
“If it isn’t, it should be,” Robbie answered, narrowing her gaze at the woman.
“And I notice that she is unchaperoned.” Linnea tsked. “How audacious!”
Robbie thought of her own unchaperoned path into Gavin’s life, so curbed her tongue. They both watched as she glided directly for Gavin, who was in conversation with another neighbor. He turned to greet her, and she stood on tiptoe and whispered something in his ear. He frowned, looked around the dance floor, but his gaze did not find Robbie. He looked a little peeved, but took Faith into his arms and joined the quadrille.
“Now there’s a young woman who has no sense of propriety, and I don’t like the looks of that,” Linnea murmured.
“Nor do I,” Robbie answered, her stomach a tad uneasy. When the dance had finished, Gavin walked her toward them. “She’s coming this way.”
Gavin leaned toward Robbie and whispered, “I will be back shortly. We still have another dance.”
After he left, Faith stepped right up to Linnea, completely ignoring Robbie. She made a little curtsy and then said, “You must be Gavin’s mother.” Her smile was saccharine. “I am so pleased to finally meet you; Gavin speaks of you fondly, and often.”
Robbie tossed a sideways glance at her mother-in-law, who had a faux smile painted on her face. “I didn’t catch your name.” Her response was polite, although not particularly warm.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said quickly. “I’m Faith Baker; Gavin and I are very good friends. We met at Edinburgh, where my uncle taught. We spent many evenings together at my uncle’s townhouse, where they would have the liveliest of discussions. He was Gavin’s mentor, you see.” She finally looked at Robbie, a shrewd look on her face.
“I see. Well, it was nice to meet you.” Linnea’s posture clearly told her their conversation was over. She turned to Robbie. “Shall we visit the refreshment room, Robbie dear?”
Robbie stopped a grin. “By all means; let’s do.” Both she and Linnea turned and walked away from Faith Baker. Before they entered the refreshment room, Robbie glanced back to see Faith Baker making a quick exit out one of the glass doors.
The room was filled with heady, delicious aromas. A table of tea, coffee, and ices was positioned to one side. Biscuits, cakes, bon bons, cold tongue, and a variety of sandwiches were beautifully placed on another.
They each filled a small plate and took a seat by the windows. “I noticed Faith whispering to him during the quadrille. What do you suppose that means?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t possibly be good.”
“I’ve only just met the woman, but I’d venture a guess that she plans to meet Gavin somewhere. Are you going to follow them?”
Robbie nibbled on a biscuit. “At some point I’m going to have to trust him.” But did she? She felt a headache begin in her left temple.
• • •
Colin had watched the contact between Faith and Gavin. Something was happening, and he didn’t like the looks of it. He went the back way to the path that led to the patio and saw Faith sitting on a bench, a letter or packet of some kind on her lap. He crept up behind her and pulled the epistle from her, startling her so that she nearly screamed.
When she saw him, she said, her voice dripping with disdain, “Oh, it’s you. Give me my envelope.”
Colin put it in the inside pocket of his jacket. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s not your business.”
“Anything to do with Gavin’s happiness is my business,” he answered.
She gave him a superior look. “So you believe learning that his wife writes smut for an underground magazine would make Gavin happy?”
Ah, so that’s what it was. No wonder Robbie was so evasive when he asked her about her writing job.
“Well, apparently you were going to prove to him that she does,” he countered.
She raised her chin. “He needs to know.”
“Do you know what he really needs to know, Miss Baker?”
“Oh, do tell me, you wretched-faced degenerate.” Her voice dripped with poison.
“My, my, namecalling. How very mature.”
She shrugged one shoulder and glanced away, hoping to see Gavin coming up the path.
“What Gavin really needs to know is exactly the kind of woman you are.”
She cocked her head. “Really? And what kind of woman is that?”
“One who had an abortion at a backstreet clinic three years ago. You’re lucky you survived it.”
She froze, then turned slowly, giving him the kind of look that wished him dead. “Even you wouldn’t be that low.”
Colin lifted his shoulders. “It would prove to him once and for all that you are not what you pretend to be.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped one foot on the stone. “So it’s blackmail.”
He patted his jacket pocket. “So it is. Now leave, Miss Baker, and stop trying to interfere in Gavin’s life. He’s married. He’s happy. If you truly loved him, you would want him to be happy.”
“He could have been happy with me.”
Colin grunted a laugh. “I don’t see how.”
She threw him another deadly glance, then turned and hurried down the path to a waiting carriage.
Gavin appeared beside him. “Is that Faith? She’s leaving?”
“Yes. Apparently something to do with her mother,” Colin answered. He turned to Gavin. “And what are you doing out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be keeping track of your wife, instead of the woman who wants to tear your marriage apart?”
Gavin looked uncomfortable. “She said she had something to show me and that it was crucial to my marriage.”
“Don’t believe her, Gavin. Concentrate on your wife. Nothing Faith Baker has to say is important enough to risk Robbie’s happiness, and yours.”
When both men returned to the ballroom, they saw Gavin’s mother leaving the refreshment room alone.
“Where’s Robbie?” Gavin asked.
Linnea strolled over to them. “She claimed a headache. She asked me to tell you that she’s so sorry to leave the party, but in order for it not to turn into something worse, she has to lie down in a dark room.”
Disappointed, Gavin said, “Maybe I should see if she’s all right.”
Linnea put her hand on his arm. “No, Gavin. Let her be. She’ll be fine in the morning.”
Colin left the ballroom and made his way up the stairway to Robbie’s room. Perhaps it wasn’t correct of him to talk with her in her chambers, but he felt it was necessary. He rapped softly on her door.
A moment later, she opened it, her pup in her arms. Surprised, she said, “Colin? Is something wrong?”
“No, not now. But,” he said, sliding the envelope from his pocket, “I thought you might want me to mail this in the morning.”
She gasped and nearly dropped the dog. “Where did you get that?”
“Faith Baker was going to use it to try to drive a wedge between you and Gavin so she could have him for herself.”
Frowning, Robbie said, “But I mailed it at the inn.”
“The innkeeper is Faith’s uncle. I don’t believe he would have given it to her willingly, so I assume she snatched it when he wasn’t looking.”
Robbie’s gaze narrowed. “That evil witch.”
“She is that, you know. She’s wanted Gavin for herself for as long as I’ve known her, and I knew her in Edinburgh when she visited her uncle.”
“Thank you for this, Colin. I don’t know what I would have done if…” The sentence fizzled out and Robbie looked away.
“I’m aware of the address, Robbie. Just so you know.” He looked both ways, and then asked, “Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Robbie opened the door wider. “Come in here. It’s not proper, but I think you deserve an explanation.”
The small parlor off the bedroom was dimly lit. When they were seated, Robbie told him the story.
“So your mentor died before he could finish the stories he had promised the magazine.”
Robbie nodded. “And I needed the money desperately. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had; I could have been out on the street.”
The look she gave him nearly broke his heart. “You want to write, is that it? I mean your own stories?”
“Of course. Ever since I was a girl I scribbled stories on backs of paper used for packing. I didn’t care where I wrote, just that I could write. Even as a young lassie I preferred getting writing tablets as gifts rather than dolls or fancy dressses.”
Colin studied her, his expression sympathetic. “You are a complicated woman, Robbie. But I don’t think you give Gavin enough credit. He’s not a saint, you know, although he often acts like one. He might find it exciting to have a wife who has such knowledge.”
Robbie laughed, short and humorless. “All I did was use the wording Jeremy had used in the serials before I got them. I know where all the parts are, but I don’t know how to use them,” she said with a cynical smile. “And I’ve said too much.” She stood, an invitation for him to take his leave. “I would appreciate you mailing it, though. I have just a couple of pieces I need to finish before I’m done with the drivel forever.”
After Colin left, Robbie sat down and tried to write.
Lady Perlina took the baron’s balls and gave them a squeeze.
Nothing else came. She crumpled the paper and tossed it on the floor. She started another.
Miss Sallie Wiggins sat squarely on Elijah’s firm brown…Beyond that, she had nothing. That, too, ended up a crumpled heap on the floor.
After several more attempts, Robbie went to bed, disgusted with it all.