Across the Ages (Across the Ages Book One) (3 page)

THREE

TONGUES WAGGING

HER SISTER
clutched her arm as they entered the ballroom. Thousands of candles lit the lively room, which was already close to overflowing though the fashionably late had yet to arrive. People were talking and laughing. Some danced. Others sat at tables, sipping lemon ice.

“Mother will be pleased with the turnout,” Lucy said, steadying herself. The room was overly warm, even with the floor to ceiling windows open. Lucy watched the gauzy white curtains sway like apparitions in the slight breeze.

The musicians started to play a lively waltz, introducing a new set. Couples made their way to the middle of the floor and began to move. 

Ellen squeezed Lucy’s arm. “I’d better go. Father will pop a button if he sees me here.” She lowered her voice. “He doesn’t think I’m ready but I blast it, I am.”

Lucy patted her sister’s hand. “You’re more ready than I. Want to take my place?”

Ellen blushed, giving her freckled face a burst of beautiful color. “If only I could.” With that she made her way back up the stairs.

Lucy scanned the room, searching the faces of the older couples for her mother and father. She found them speaking with Dashel’s parents. By the brightness of the men’s faces it appeared the discussion was heated. Or they’d both had too much to drink.

A servant carrying a platter of sparkling drinks walked by and Lucy took one to sip from as she walked the room. The pale dresses and men in their finest coats reminded Lucy of a painting. She also didn’t recognize a single person outside hers or Dashel’s families.

“Anyone catch your eye, Miss Channing?” Dashel gently touched Lucy’s elbow, getting her attention.

She smiled as she stopped and turned, happy to see him. “Dashel,” she whispered, knowing that use of proper names was an impropriety until they were officially engaged.

Dashel bowed. “At your service.”

He did look incredibly handsome tonight in his deerskin colored trousers with black knee high boots, a white shirt, and a navy jacket, the buttons bearing his family’s coat of arms. The entire ensemble emphasized his broad shoulders, straight posture, and most importantly, his status. His short hair had been styled to perfection tonight and his brown eyes glowed with mischief.

“I have a present for you.”

Lucy raised her gaze to meet his. “But you already gave me the lovely flowers.”

Dashel’s smile grew wide. “I noticed the daisies in your hair.” He came closer. “If I may be so bold, you are divine.”

Lucy resisted the urge to smack him on the arm. He was teasing, as was his way with her. “So are you,” she returned from behind her fan.

He winked. “The gossips already have their tongues wagging. The men are placing bets on how long it’ll be before the announcement is placed in the
Gazette
and the women are shooting daggers at us both.” He chuckled lightly. “Well, mostly at you, I’m afraid.” He sipped his drink.

“No they aren’t.” Lucy scanned the room. The music still played but many of the dancers had stopped and were whispering to each other, as were those along the edges. Even their parents had stopped talking and watched them. “Why aren’t you upset? You don’t want to marry me anymore than I wish to marry you.”

Dashel raised an eyebrow, about to say something, but the Lord and Lady of Cartwright came over. “Dashel, my boy,” he said, clapping him on the back.

Dashel straightened. “Good to see you, Wendell.”

Lady Cartwright patted her husband on the arm and gave Dashel a stern look.

“May I present Miss Lucy Channing? This ball is in honor of her birthday,” Dashel said.

Lucy curtsied as she held out her hand. Lord Cartwright took it and bowed. “A pleasure,” he said.

Dashel continued, “Miss Channing, I am pleased to introduce Lord and Lady Cartwright.”

“It’s good to meet you. Thank you for attending my ball. It’s an honor.” Lucy noticed the way Lady Cartwright appraised her slightly lower cut dress with distain. She’d seen that same look many times from her own mother when judging other women. Instead of letting her insecurities show, Lucy pushed back her shoulders making her already pronounced endowments appear even larger.

Lord Cartwright’s eyes roamed over her briefly.

“Well, I never,” Lady Cartwright said, tugging her husband away.

Dashel burst out laughing. “You are going to make lots of friends, my dear Miss Channing.”

Lucy found her mother’s disapproving gaze. Lucy pursed her lips in irritation. It was difficult knowing she was supposed to save her family. It was her duty. Sighing inwardly, she said, “After they find out I’m taking you off the market they’ll despise me anyway.”

“Very true,” Dashel admitted.

A throng of couples paraded around the room, making their way over to Lucy and Dashel. She was cordial. Dashel was ever the proper gentlemen. After an hour, Dashel bumped her shoulder lightly. “Would you care to dance, Miss Channing? Out there we’ll be watched, but at least we won’t be interrupted.”

Lucy nodded. Dashel took her glass and placed it next to his on a tray. When he returned he stuck out his arm. Lucy placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to escort her.

Dashel bowed. She curtsied. Then he took her in his arms and twirled her around the dance floor. His hold on her was firm and confident. Lucy held her head up, keeping her back straight and her shoulders squared as she’d been taught. Dashel was a fine partner. “You’re very good at this,” Lucy commented. It wasn’t her first time dancing with him though it’d been many years. They’d practiced more than once with each other when she’d been eleven or twelve. During those rehearsals his arms and legs had been too big for his body. Now though he’d grown into them. Lucy could feel his strong, well-sculpted biceps under his fitted jacket.

“You doubted me?”

Lucy laughed, lowering her gaze. “I shouldn’t have.”

“You’re absolutely right. I’m incredible at everything I do.” He came in close. “I’ve been told even my kisses are perfection.”

At that Lucy blushed. “You’re flirting.” She glanced at her parents. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. What happens after the wedding when we have to start producing heirs?” She knew she was speaking boldly and that her mother would die of mortification if she heard, but this was important. The idea of kissing Dashel didn’t spark her heart. In fact she’d never felt the spark her romance books talked about. Yet their parents were forcing Lucy to marry Dashel and have his children. It frustrated her. She couldn’t understand why it didn’t bother him.

Dashel’s features became serious. “Lucy, it’s true. I’m not in love with you, but I hold you in very high affection. I would even call it love. You’re a fine woman, with lovely birthing hips.”

Lucy gasped, her cheeks getting hot. It appalled her to realize he’d considered her hips at all. “Birthing hips? If we weren’t in public I’d sock you in the arm. Hard.”

Dashel threw his head back and laughed. “According to Father, birthing hips are quite important.” He winked. “Beyond that, you’re smart, caring, beautiful, and I enjoy your company above all others.”

Lucy swallowed. She enjoyed his company above all others as well.

Dashel went on. “We can talk, laugh, and even have a conversation that doesn’t end in you requesting a bauble.” He squeezed her hands. “Other than your very unfeminine love of tinkering, I believe you are an excellent match. Marrying you suits me just fine.”

Lucy was shocked. She opened her mouth to speak but Dashel continued, “I know you don’t love me either and I wish things were different, but this is just how things are done.” He glanced down at their fingers clasped together. “Can you tolerate me for as long as we both shall live?”

Lucy closed her mouth. He was honoring his family, doing his duty as the future Earl of Westington. She couldn’t fault him for that. In fact she respected him a great deal. Finally she met his eyes. “Dashel, you are wonderful and you deserve a woman who will love and appreciate you for all that you are.”

Dashel smirked.

“It saddens me that we are being forced to marry one another when our true loves are out there somewhere. What will happen to them? Our marriage will force them to settle as well.” Dashel made a move to speak but Lucy hurried on, “And yes, of course I’ll tolerate you, more than tolerate. I’ll enjoy our time together for as long as we both shall live, but we could have so much more.” Lucy leaned in. “You deserve so much more. And so do I.” She tapped his hand. “Also, I don’t tinker, I invent. There’s a difference.”

Dashel’s smile was brilliant. “You’re a remarkable person, Miss Channing.”

“As are you, Mr. Rothchild.”

The set ended and the two of them walked over to their parents. Lucy knew they would announce the engagement soon and her heart ached with unfulfilled longing.

Where are you?
Lucy thought, searching the crowd for the man she should be marrying instead of Dashel. But he wasn’t there. She could sense it. Of all the men in the room Dashel was the best fit, the most perfect for her, by far. But they weren’t meant to be together. She could sense that too.

“Dear, what are you doing?” her mother asked.

“Admiring the gorgeous gowns,” Lucy lied.

“Yours is the finest by far.”

Her father and Dashel’s parents all agreed.

“Thank you,” Lucy said.

“Before you wreck my Lucy’s life forever, I need to speak with her.” Lucy’s grandmother spoke as she shuffled over. She wasn’t as quick as she used to be. Her grandmother had aged much more quickly that seemed appropriate, particularly in the last decade.

“Grandmother,” Lucy said, reaching out and hugging her. Her grandmother returned the hug but only briefly. They were in public after all. If they’d been in private her grandmother, the Countess of Polenska, would have hugged her tightly and kissed both cheeks.

Lucy’s mother barely acknowledged the countess’s presence, turning her attention to others in the room. The men fawned over her though. Lady Agatha was lively and quick as a whip. She was also stunning, even at sixty-five. She was short, like Lucy, and willowy too. Wrinkles lined her face, but Lucy thought they made her look wise. Her dress was bright red as were her lips. Her hair had been pulled up and pinned into a sweeping S at the nape of her neck. Lucy loved the gray streak that started at the middle of her forehead and ran the length of her chestnut brown hair. She thought it was beautiful. Her grandmother was beautiful. Inside and out. Around her neck was the peculiar locket she always wore.

“Your locket really stands out against the lovely shade of your dress,” Lucy commented.

Her grandmother glanced down. “This old thing,” she said, giving Lucy’s mother a nervous look. “I need some fresh air. Will you take a turn around the courtyard with me?”

“Of course, Grandmother.” Lucy’s mother gave her an annoyed glare.

Agatha patted her daughter’s arm. “You needn’t worry, Kathryn. We can’t go far. I’ll have her back in time for the engagement announcement.”

Kathryn nodded once then turned away.

Her grandmother sighed sadly and Lucy wanted to smack her mother. How could she be so cold and uncaring to such a warm and generous person? But then perhaps it was just her way. Her mother wasn’t warm toward her either, not like she was toward Ellen and Beaumont. Of course her mother could be kind, but she was clear on Lucy’s place in the family.

FOUR

A PROPOSAL

LUCY AND
her grandmother made their way outside. The courtyard consisted of a small rotunda with three steps that led down to a path lined with newly blooming rose bushes. In the center was a large fountain. The water misted the air. Lucy bent to one of the roses and leaned in, enjoying the sweet aroma.

“Get back inside, Isabelle. If your mother knew you were out here with such a rake she’d be bedridden for a week. You don’t want to hurt your mother, do you?”

Lucy turned back toward the entrance and noticed a couple hidden in the shadows. She watched in shock as the couple disentangled themselves. The man smirked as he straitened his jacket and adjusted his cravat. “Thank you for the kind words, Countess,” the man said. “Good evening, ladies.” His oily eyes snaked their way down Lucy’s body before he walked inside.

Lucy cringed. The man made her skin crawl.

Grandmother Agatha walked over to the girl she’d called Isabelle and fixed a tendril of the girl’s blond hair. “Take a turn around the path with us before you return.”

Isabelle curtsied.

The three of them started walking. Lucy was in shock. How could Isabelle believe that man loved her?

When they’d nearly completed their turn, Lucy’s grandmother said, “I recommend you stay away from Lord Wesley. He isn’t worth your weight in feathers, dear. Understand?”

“He said he loved me.” Isabelle burst into tears.

Lucy’s grandmother pulled a kerchief from the sleeve of her dress and handed it to Isabelle. “Of course he did. He knew the words would have the exact effect they did. Guard yourself, girl. Don’t let the first set of pretty words aimed in your direction cause you to lose your faculties. Be better than that.”

“Yes’m. I will.” Isabelle wiped her eyes. .

“You won’t tell my mother, will you?”

“You needn’t worry, child. I’ll hold my tongue, but heed my warning. Mr. Wesley will bring you nothing but heartache.”

“Thank you.” Isabelle took the countess’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “You’re a dear woman.”

Once Isabelle had returned to the ballroom, Lucy and her grandmother started around the path again.

“You handled that nicely.” Lucy wrapped her hands around her grandmother’s arm.

Agatha patted Lucy’s hand. “If that girl doesn’t end up pregnant by Season’s end it’ll be by divine Providence.”

“You don’t think she listened.”

“No, I do not but never you mind.” She glanced up at the sky a moment.

Lucy kept hold of her grandmother’s arm lest her favorite relative lost her balance. From past experience Lucy knew her Grandmother liked to collect her thoughts before speaking her mind. Lucy assumed her grandmother wanted to give her some words of wisdom regarding her upcoming engagement and was considering how to put the information graciously. To Lucy’s mind, her grandmother could take all the time in the world if that meant putting off the inevitable announcement.

The night held a cool snap, especially when a gust of wind blustered past her. It was mid-April. The sky was surprisingly clear, allowing Lucy to see the stars. She found Cassiopeia.

“See the moon?” her grandmother asked, caressing her locket between her fingers as she spoke.

“No,” Lucy answered, finding the North Star as well as several other constellations. “It’s absent tonight, a new moon.”

Grandmother Agatha smiled. “That’s right. The new moon and the full moon are divided by a fortnight and they are my favorites.”

“Oh?” Lucy studied the sky curious about what she preferred in them.

“They’ve always brought me luck. Perhaps someday they will do the same for you.”

Lucy exhaled. “Perhaps.”

Her grandmother moved closer. “You don’t love him, do you?”

Lucy knew her grandmother was referring to Dashel. “Is it that obvious?”

“To most, probably not. I can tell you are fond of the dashing Dashel.” She chuckled at her joke. “But there’s no friction between the two of you. No heat.”

“Grandmother,” Lucy gasped, but was unable to hide her smile.

“Don’t play coy. It’s what makes all the difference between a bearable marriage and one filled with passion.”

“But what can I do?” Lucy wanted a way out, but only if it didn’t hurt Dashel. He was a good man and she didn’t want to cause a scandal. Even though she knew Dashel wouldn’t care.

Her grandmother stopped, her deep violet eyes fixed on Lucy’s. “There is so much I need to tell you. So much I know only you will understand.” Grandmother Agatha started another turn around the path. “You know, your grandfather Lawrence and I weren’t in love either.”

“I didn’t know,” Lucy said, surprised. The way she always spoke about him had led her to believe otherwise.

“Our parents forced us into marriage, much the same way yours are doing to you.” She clucked her tongue. “I’d hoped your mother would allow you the chance to choose, as I did with her.”

“My parents chose each other?” The way they treated each other, she with distain, he with indifference, Lucy never would’ve guessed they’d been in love.

Her grandmother waved a hand in disgust. “I allowed Kathryn the opportunity to find love.” Agatha went over to the fountain and stuck the tips of her fingers in the water. Lucy followed. “Instead she sought a title.”

“Perhaps love is only a notion and doesn’t truly exist.” Lucy wanted desperately to believe it was out there, but she hadn’t seen it. Not close up.

“Oh, my darling, love exists. Sometimes it is just difficult to find.”

“If you say so, Grandmother. My confidence in the notion is fading rather quickly.”

Agatha gave her a serious look. “It’s out there. Trust me. That’s what I want to discuss with you. We don’t have enough time now, thanks to Isabelle’s indiscretion. Your mother will be insufferable if we don’t get back soon, but come to my rooms tonight after the party.” Urgency gave strength to her grandmother’s voice.

“It’ll be late. I don’t want to wake you.”

“I’m an old woman but I’m not dead yet. Wake me. We need to talk. And then I’ll give you your birthday present.” Her grandmother moved quickly, heading back to the house and the stuffy ballroom. “Promise me,” she said, squeezing Lucy’s hand.

“I promise. I’ll be up as soon as the party is over.” Whatever her grandmother had to say, it was important to her and that made it important to Lucy.

Agatha smiled. “Good.” She paused at the edge of the dance floor, watching the dancers a moment before turning her attention to those standing along the edges.

Lucy joined her, surprised at how crowded her parents’ ballroom had become.

A crush,
she thought.

“Your ball will be celebrated a raging success, Lucy. I’m sure you’ll get your invitation to Almack’s within the month. Be glad of that.” Her grandmother winked.

“I am,” Lucy said, though the idea of being presented to those stuffy old bats made her sick.

“Liar,” Agatha said with a knowing smile, her fingers caressing the locket around her neck.

Lucy gave her grandmother an adoring look. Her grandmother’s response was one of the many reasons Lucy adored her. She understood her.

“I’ll see you later this evening.” Agatha loosened her grip on Lucy’s hand.

“Yes, I’ll come by,” she agreed, moving toward her parents.

Dashel stood beside them, his parents on his other side. To the untrained eye he might appear arrogant and aloof. After spending so much time with him over the years Lucy knew at that moment he was actually uncomfortable. She needed to rescue him. “Mr. Rothchild,” Lucy said.

Dashel immediately relaxed, an easy smile settling over his face. Lucy knew right then that if they married, there wouldn’t be passion, but there would be honesty, kindness, even joy. Dashel would treat her well. Their union would be more than tolerable. Lucy knew their marriage would be more agreeable than many, including her parents’. Truthfully, she couldn’t imagine spending her life with anyone else.

“Ready?” Dashel asked.

“As I’ll ever be.” A consigned peace settled over Lucy.

Her father took a glass of champagne from a servant holding a large pewter tray. At least two dozen more servants walked through the room carrying trays of glasses filled with champagne while the guests scooped them up, laughing and talking merrily.

It occurred to Lucy that they’d spent a small fortune on this party and she wondered why. Immediately the answer presented itself. They wanted to keep up appearances. Lucy had heard her parents argue about her father’s gambling problem.

“A toast,” Lucy’s father said, clinking his glass with the back of one of his rings. The music stopped and the room grew quiet. Not silent. Too many people were whispering, the women behind their fans.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” her father began as he scanned the room.

Lucy did the same. “This party is special for several reasons. The first is that it is our lovely Lucy’s eighteenth birthday.”

The room erupted with cheers.

Lucy took her cue and smiled, trying her best to look grateful.

Once the clapping settled, her father continued, “Tonight is Lucy’s official entrance into Society. I hope you’ll take the time to get to know her. She’s a marvelous girl.”

His words were warm, but Lucy knew the sentiment was only for the crowd. Her father had never graced her with a kind word.

“And finally, Lady Channing and I ask you to join us in celebrating our big announcement.” Her father paused for dramatic effect and turned to Dashel.

He nodded to her father. It was obvious the two of them had planned what was happening. Lucy’s heart raced as Dashel took her hand and placed it on his arm and then proceeded to lead her to the middle of the floor. He got down on one knee, took her hand, pulled off the glove on her left hand and handed it to her.

The whole room gasped. Girls and their mothers looked at each other. Some covered their mouths. Others spoke behind their fans. The men appeared uncomfortable. Some coughed and cleared their throats.

“Lucy,” Dashel whispered.

She returned her focus to him. Swallowed. “My lord,” she said nervously.

He smiled and Lucy realized her grandmother was correct. Dashel was very dashing.

Louder, so the entire ballroom could hear him, Dashel said, “Miss Lucy Channing. Our families have summered together for years. I’ve watched you grow from an irritating young child,” he paused as the crowd laughed, “into the loveliest and most charming young woman I’ve ever met.”

Lucy scrunched her eyes together in surprise. If she hadn’t known for a fact that he didn’t love her in the way husbands should love their wives, she might’ve questioned him.

Dashel was still talking. “It would make me the happiest man in the world if you would consent to be my wife.”

The proposal was sweet. Lucy felt her face get warm. Part of her wished theirs could be a marriage filled with a forever kind of love. She reflected inward, analyzing the emotion in her heart. Love settled there, but it was the kind of love reserved for family and good friends. Perhaps what she and Will felt for each other was good enough and the love Jane Austen wrote about in her books was as make believe as her stories. They were fiction, after all.

Dashel pulled a ring from his pocket. It was a simple golden band engraved with leaves from his family crest. In the center was a gem the same violet shade as her eyes. It was thoughtful and beautiful.

As she held out her hand, she noticed it shook slightly.

“What is your answer, Miss Channing? Will you have me?” Dashel’s hand hovered near hers, waiting.

“Yes.” She nodded for emphasis.

The whole room erupted with shouts and cheers. Men patted each other on the back. Relieved. Like they’d just proposed and their lady had accepted. Lucy’s father looked proud and her mother’s eyes became misty. She dabbed at their edges with a handkerchief.

Dashel stood and pressed a kiss to Lucy’s bare hand causing another bout of cheers.

“Music, please,” my father commanded.

The violins started the slow tune, followed by the cellos and the bass.  

Dashel spun Lucy. “Let’s dance, my dear.”

Lucy beamed, her focus on Dashel’s face. He really was a wonderful dancer. Strong and liquid while still keeping every ounce of his masculinity.

Many of the women glared. At her. She shrugged them off. She couldn’t blame them. Lucy had just caught herself the most eligible bachelor in all of London, and she’d done it before the Season even started.

To top it off, he was a duke. She should’ve been thrilled, giddy even. Dashel was just as she’d always imagined her husband would look, act, and be when she was a young girl. But as she danced, she wondered whether the girl who should’ve been dancing with Dashel was there.

It hurt to think about, and she tried to focus on Dashel, but she couldn’t let it go. Not that it mattered. The deed was done. She and Dashel were engaged.