CHAPTER ONE

 

 

“Are you sure about this, Jemma? I don’t feel comfortable accompanying you without your mother in attendance.”

“Very,” Miss Jemma Partridge said as she pulled the edges of her black velvet cloak together. “It will be the last social function I attend before my marriage on Christmas Eve, and as Mother is experiencing another of her episodes, there is little to be done but for you to escort me, cousin.”

“But the Cavanagh fancy dress is not like any other ball. Masks and disguises seem to change people’s behavior, and not for the better.”

“And yet you attend every year, Thomas.” Jemma smiled sweetly. “Therefore, surely it will not hurt me to accompany you just this once?”

“It is slightly different for me to attend than you, and as you very well know, I am a man with no morals and very low standards.”

“Surely a ball held by one of society’s leaders cannot be so terrible, and you are as noble as the next man.”

She studied Thomas’s costume. Black cloak over black breeches and boots, white shirt and scarlet sash tied at his waist. He always wore the same costume every year.

“Why a pirate?”

“Woman think me dashing,” he said, flashing her a smile that she was sure had made many a heart flutter. To Jemma, he was a friend and the one person she loved above all others. She watched the smile turn into a frown. “And terrible is not the word to use when describing the Cavanagh ball. Perhaps reckless would be a better term. In fact, I think I shall turn the carriage around; it was a mistake to bring you, you got me at a weak moment.”

“But you have told me on numerous occasions that it is often the highlight of your year, and that the Cavanagh Christmas ball is not something you would ever miss. In fact I’ve heard most of society attends, therefore why not I?”

“It is and I don’t, and yes many members of society attend.” He gritted his teeth. “It is just that they are not you.”

“That makes absolutely no sense and merely confirms my belief of your double standards. Where I am concerned, you are ridiculously conservative in what events you believe I should attend, yet you are allowed to do whatever takes your fancy.”

Thomas blew out a loud breath.

“You know very well the rules for women and men are not the same, therefore, what I enjoy is not necessarily suitable for you. The guests are definitely the same as during the season, but their behavior often is not.”

“As I am sitting across from you in your carriage, I’m not entirely sure why we are having this conversation. I would also like to point out that I am a sensible woman, and fail to see what could possibly happen other than lighthearted flirtation and dancing.”

“You would be surprised how many women have been ruined by uttering just those words.”

“By you?”

Thomas looked outraged.

“I would never ruin a woman, and shame on you for suggesting otherwise.”

“Oh please, do not get high and mighty with me, Thomas Radler. I know you better than most.”

He fell silent, and she could tell he was again contemplating taking her home. Tall and lean, Thomas and Jemma could pass as siblings. Both blond, both had the same deep brown eye color, and they were often told they had many similar mannerisms. He was also stubborn like her, and she could not allow him to take her back to the house when she was so close to the ball and one final night of freedom.

“Would you have me go to my wedding without experiencing any of the excitement life has to offer? Must I go to my marriage bed to lie with Lord Crickley knowing nothing of the joys that can be experienced?”

The breath whooshed from Thomas’s chest. “Firstly, I have no wish to think of you and Crickley in any way, and secondly, what the hell are you planning? Because there will be none of that kind of carrying on here for you, and I am horrified that you would even contemplate it.”

“Of course I am not contemplating that kind of thing.” Jemma waved a hand about. “Perhaps my speech was a bit misleading, but as you can imagine the future will change drastically for me, and I wish only for one last night of fun before it does.”

He took one of her gloved hands in his.

“You told me you wanted this, Jemma, told me that you liked Crickley and wanted to marry him. I had my doubts and thought he was not suitable for you, but you insisted, as did your father. Tell me if you have changed your mind and we shall put an end to it, and then we will run away, sweetheart, just you and I as we used to. I shall whisk you away to France, and we shall spend Christmas there. You need only say the word.”

Jemma knew that his words were spoken teasingly, yet if she were to agree he would do as she asked. Thomas’s parents had died when he was two years old, so he had come to live with Jemma’s parents. She’d been born three years later.

“I love you for saying that, Thomas, and I am not having doubts about marrying Lord Crickley. I had to marry at some stage, and at twenty-four I am lucky it has not happened before now. Father was more than happy to leave me at home with mother so he could spend his time as he wished. Therefore, he did not insist that I accept any of my suitors. Now, however, it is time for me to wed.”

Jemma looked out the carriage window so her cousin could not see her eyes. See the anger that raged inside her, or the fear for what her future held.

“Your father has my undying gratitude for raising me as his own, but he is a fool as we both know, and your mother a close second.” Thomas took her hand, forcing her to face him. “I am confused by your choice of husband, Jemma. Why Crickley? I don’t know much about the man, but the little I do I don’t particularly like.”

Wise man Jemma thought squeezing his fingers before releasing them. “I’m grateful to you for all you have done for us, Thomas, but I can no longer be a burden on your time when surely you will marry soon. I also have no wish to see out my days looking after two foolish parents. Therefore, I shall be happy as Lady Crickley.”

His handsome face was suddenly serious.

“I would not have you unhappy, Jemma.”

“I shall be quite all right, I promise. I have never wished for a great passion, and undying love sounds horridly painful and to be avoided. Crickley has two children from his first wife. Both are grown, and I believe he has four grandchildren, so they shall keep me busy.”

“At any time, should you need me, then send word and I will be at your side as soon as I can.”

Jemma blinked back the tears. They both knew that after her wedding, everything would change between them. She would not see Thomas as much, nor would they share as many visits at his estate, as her husband had one of his own.

“All will go well, Thomas, I promise. There is no need for this. I will be happy with him.”

“You’re beautiful, well-mannered, and have your own teeth, so why settle for someone Crickley’s age when you could have a younger man?”

“Charming, you make me sound like a horse.”

“A very pretty one.”

“He will be an easy man to marry, and demand little of me.”

“Why do I have the feeling you are not telling me the entire truth?”

Because she wasn’t.

Because of her father’s reckless behavior, Lord Crickley had caught him cheating at cards. His silence was bought by Jemma’s agreement to marry him, and now her life was about to change completely, and not for the better.

“Unlike you, I do not have a romantic soul and am happy to settle for a comfortable union rather than love.”

“And yet finding love was all you spoke of for many years.”

Jemma dismissed his words with a shake of her head and managed to form a smile.

“I was a girl, Thomas. Now please, no more. It is done and I will marry Lord Crickley on Christmas Eve.”

“I still believe there is more to this, Jemma, but short of having my driver take us around the roads until you tell me the truth, I can find no way to get it from you. Even then, you are more stubborn than I, so it would more than likely be a fruitless venture.”

“The carriage is stopping, Thomas, so this discussion is finished,” Jemma said, slipping on her mask.

Thomas wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her moving toward the door. “If I find you have lied to me, Jemma, I will not be pleased.”

She placed a hand on his chest, as she had many times before. “Let it go now, Thomas; it is done.”

“It is simply that I wanted more for you, Jemma.”

His words were spoken softly and she felt the emotion behind them as it matched her own. But she could not let him see how she was feeling. If he had even a slight inkling of why she was marrying Crickley there would be hell to pay.

“We are not all cut from the same cloth, Thomas. I will rejoice when you have found your passionate love, but I have no wish for it.”

Taking the footman’s hand, she stepped from the carriage in the hopes that the conversation was done with.

“Remember, Jemma, I know you better than anyone, so I will know if you are unhappy.”

Jemma sighed theatrically. “After years of being in society my view on marriage has changed, Thomas. Crickley will expect me to run his house and be an elegant accessory when required, but little else.”

“That is an exceedingly emotionless way to look at the rest of your life, Jemma.”

Deciding that silence was her best course at that point, she held Thomas’s arm as they walked up the steps and through the red brick façade. The air was crisp and snow had fallen the previous two days, so the noises around them were muted. They passed through the door and were greeted by a servant dressed somberly in black.

“I am not happy, Jemma, and will state one last time that if you should wish to break this engagement then I will help you do so.”

Thomas had been her big brother; he’d protected her when her parents had not, and she understood why he was angry with her, but right at that moment, she wanted nothing more than to enjoy herself and forget, if only briefly, what was to come.

“Enough now, Thomas, or the Christmas gift I have had made for you will be given to someone else.”

Jemma had expected grandeur and was not disappointed. Walking into the entrance hall, she found it lit with many candles and decorated with boughs of holly. The walls were painted in the softest blue and framed with gold, and carpets of red added to the visual feast. Everywhere she looked she saw wealth and grandeur, from the curving staircase sweeping left and right to the gilded frames hanging on the walls with Cavanagh ancestors.

“It’s a Christmas tree,” Thomas said, noting her surprise at the large tree taking up a great deal of space in the entranceway. “Cavanagh has had one for the last few years; it seems his wife has an uncle who embraced the tradition while in Germany.”

“It is lovely, and smells marvelous.”

It was adorned with many things, from nuts to what looked to be sweets.

“Don’t stand under any mistletoe or kissing boughs,” Thomas cautioned as she began to take off her heavy velvet cloak. “Believe me, there will be plenty of them. Good God, what the hell are you wearing!”

“My costume,” Jemma said, looking down at the soft white Grecian dress beneath the matching cloak that draped her body. She’d had it made by her modiste, and thought it rather lovely. The fabric was diaphanous and floated as she walked, and the gold braid around her waist added just the right touch. The bodice was draped and cut low enough to show the tops of her breasts. Her hair hung in one long plait to the side, and more braid circled her head.

“Your chest is barely covered!” Thomas spluttered.

“Of course it’s covered,” Jemma said, looking down. The problem was there was just quite a bit of it, and she usually took great pains to keep it hidden. However, tonight she felt the need to be different. A wildness had taken root inside her since she had decided to attend the Cavanagh ball.

“I cannot take you in there dressed like that.”

Thomas sounded in pain and Jemma rolled her eyes.

“For pity’s sake, Thomas, stop being dramatic. I shall be quite all right, and as I have already stated, am sensible enough to not fall prey to unscrupulous rakes like yourself.” Unless I want to, Jemma added silently.

“Keep your hood up,” Thomas said, reaching for the soft white material of the matching white cape she wore over her costume and pulling it up to cover her head, “And that Christmas gift had better be a good one, after everything you have put me through.”

“I cannot keep it up all evening, surely?”

“You will bloody well do as I say because right now, I am very close to throwing you over my shoulder and returning to the carriage. And can you not pull it around your chest so you are not so exposed?”

“No, I cannot.”

Thomas muttered something unflattering, but she did not acknowledge it. The problem was she was almost a head shorter than him and a great deal lighter, so he could, and often had, thrown her over his shoulder just to get his way.

“Very well.”

“I will not be responsible for ruining your reputation.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Thomas. There will be plenty of guests here I know, and I’m sure they shall cause my reputation no harm as I have no intentions of courting trouble.”

“As I know you almost as well as myself, I know that is a whopping untruth. You can find trouble by simply stepping foot outside the house.”

“Society thinks I am the epitome of a well-bred lady, cousin. In fact, Lady Vacien asked me to give her daughters a few pointers.”

“Society,” Thomas gritted out, “is easily fooled."

Jemma admitted the truth to these words. She had always been a hoyden, but masked it well when required.

They climbed the stairs, smiled and nodded to other guests, none of whom she recognized, as they, like she and Thomas, wore masks and costumes.

The room they entered was as long as it was wide. Light came from several lamps along the walls and a huge candelabra hanging above their heads.

“I have never seen such a sight,” Jemma said. Before them, hundreds of guests were dancing or talking, and the noise was extremely loud.

Everyone was masked and costumed in a variety of disguises. She saw naval officers and people dressed in Grecian costumes such as hers.

“As those that haven’t already left to spend Christmas with their families have only a few nights left to enjoy such frivolous entertainment, dear cousin, the mood here is even more dangerous than usual, so have a care, and do not stray from my side.”

“There seem to be hundreds of people here, Thomas; surely everyone has accepted their invitations.”

“As I have already stated, it is an event everyone looks forward to each year.”

“I am quite sure that is Mary Rolland over there in that gaggle of milkmaids; perhaps you could walk me over there and leave, content I shall come to no harm.”

“I have a feeling of impending doom,” he said dramatically.

“I have assured you I will behave, Thomas, so please, I beg of you, do not feel you need to stay at my side all evening. Now, as no one else is wearing their hoods up, I am removing mine because it draws attention.” Jemma removed her hood, and then slid the silk off her shoulders.

“I cannot believe you left the house half-dressed,” he hissed.

“Don’t be silly, I’m wearing more than most of the woman present,” Jemma said as her eyes surveyed the guests looking for something to distract her cousin from her lack of clothing. “Thomas, that Cleopatra is throwing you come-hither glances.”

“She is rather pretty,” he said, easing his grip on Jemma’s wrist.

“I see a rather impressive Caesar making his way to her side, cousin; I suggest you intercept her before he does.”

“I will if you promise to stand with the milkmaids until I return.”

“Of course.”

He left to pursue his Cleopatra, and Jemma turned right instead of left, away from the milkmaids.

The combination of masks and costumes made it hard to recognize anyone, which suited her, as Jemma had no wish to encounter any of her family or fiancé’s friends. In two weeks, they would leave Thomas’s country estate for her fiancé’s estate and her wedding. Since the day she’d agreed to marry Lord Crickley, Jemma had been gripped by a desperate need to do something she’d never done before. She wasn’t entirely sure what, but she wanted it to be reckless because her rebellions had only ever been small, for all Thomas moaned about her escapades. This would be her last chance to do something that challenged the boundaries she had always lived within.

A small wicked thought had entered her head after her betrothal was announced, the kind an innocent well-bred woman should never have, but Thomas could not stop her thoughts no matter how often he’d tried.

Her married life would be spent lying with a man many years her senior, and before that she wanted to experience passion. Of course, it was a ridiculous thing to contemplate; throwing herself at a stranger because he was significantly younger than her betrothed. And how was she to even know if she could experience passion with such a man? For that matter how did one go about finding him? The problem was she wanted to at least try. This did not say a great deal about her intelligence, but that thought had taken root in her head, and no amount of stern talking had removed it.

Crickley had coerced Jemma into marriage because he had caught her father cheating at cards, and apparently it was not the first time, but this time Crickley had the leverage he wanted to force Jemma into marriage. Her mother would be broken were the news about her father to come out.

Ever since she had agreed to the marriage, she had felt the rash need to give her innocence to another. Jemma knew she would not act on her rebellion, but she savored it anyway.

Attempting to push the dangerous thought aside, she let her eyes circle the room. It was unlikely she would experience anything more than a few heated kisses here, and she would settle for that, if only she knew how to find them.

Her eyes were drawn to a tall dark-haired man who wore the dress of a highwayman. Entirely in black, from mask to boots, he stood out from those more colorfully attired around him. He danced with a grace unusual in one so big and partnered a woman who looked suspiciously like Miss Cynthia Talbot. Dressed as a cherub, complete with wings and a bow, she was looking up at her highwayman with what Jemma suspected was adoration and seemed to be dancing scandalously close, not observing the correct distance.

Jemma could honestly say she had never looked that way at a man in her life, and doubted she ever would. Her husband would certainly never inspire such emotion from her.

As if sensing her thoughts, the man’s head lifted, and even though she was some distance away, and they both wore masks, Jemma knew his eyes held hers. The breath lodged in her throat as his mouth tilted into a smile. Heat started in her cheeks and traveled slowly down through her body. It was a simple smile, something she had shared with many before this night, and yet she felt it everywhere. Jemma literally tingled all over. She couldn’t seem to drag her eyes away from him. She could only see his mouth and chin, but was sure he was handsome. There was something about him… a magnetism that seemed to reach out and touch her.

Closing her eyes was the only way Jemma could break the contact. When she opened them, her head had tilted a few degrees to the right. Good Lord, she’d never had such an intense reaction to a man before, and she didn’t even know him or his name, had never uttered two words to him. Well, at least she didn’t believe she had. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake, if this was how she reacted to a random stranger, especially considering her foolish thoughts. Pressing a hand to her chest, Jemma attempted to soothe the rapid thud of her heartbeat. Had her reactions been due to her betrothal? Was desperation making her react to strange men?

“Foolishness, Jemma,” she muttered, thoroughly disconcerted by her reaction. Taking a glass of wine from a footman, she drank it down in a few gulps, enjoying the crisp bite. Before she could stop herself, Jemma was searching her memory for large men with black hair.

“May I have this dance, my Grecian goddess?”

The man before her was dressed as a Roman gladiator. His eyes were level with Jemma, so he was not blessed with the tall figure of the highwayman, and the leather tunic stretched over his stomach suggested he enjoyed his food and libations. For all he did not have the man in black’s impressive presence, he had round red cheeks and a smile that was genuine.

“Thank you, kind gladiator, I would be honored.”

Ignoring Thomas’s wish for her to stand with the group of women until he returned, Jemma stepped onto the dance floor. It was liberating to be anonymous, and she would enjoy her freedom for the brief time she had it.

“I have tried in vain to recognize you, my Goddess; will you give me a clue as to your identity?”

She took her partner’s hand as they met in the middle of the floor. His eyes were on her breasts, and she doubted he would find a clue there, as normally Jemma never bared them.

“I think not, gladiator; tonight is for secrets.”

She tried for a secretive look as his eyes returned to hers. His smile was instant, and Jemma wondered if she should have perfected the art of flirting more during her years in society, as she had seen other women do, batting their eyelashes, and offering alluring and sly smiles as they pushed out their breasts and swung their skirts. The problem was, she was a literal creature who could not tolerate fools and most evenings she liked to partake in discussions that had a purpose. Discussing the weather and other silly such subjects while trying to lure a prospective suitor had never agreed with Jemma. Perhaps if she had tried harder, she would not now be betrothed to a man old enough to be her father.

The highwayman was dancing also, and her eyes found and held his once more before she managed to look away. If this was how her body responded with just a look, what would it be like if he actually touched her? Perhaps she would locate Thomas after this dance and stay at his side; mayhap all her bold ideas about flirtations and other carry-ons were the stuff of silly dreams, as this intense reaction to a man she had not spoken a word to was unsettling.

When the dance ended, she let the gladiator lead her to where a circle of people stood discussing a great deal of nothing. She took another glass of wine, and this one she sipped slowly. She seemed to have no control over her eyes, as they looked to the floor, searching for the highwayman, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“And that is a good thing,” she muttered. Her reaction to him had been baffling, and Jemma put it down to her upcoming nuptials. She was not herself at the moment.