An Introduction to the Pink Collection (29 page)

“I – do not feel – in danger – ” she stammered.

“How foolish of you,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers.

There was no escape, even if she were sure she wanted to. His arms were about her body, drawing her hard against him, while his lips caressed hers with ruthless purpose.

At first shock held her still. Then she made a sound of protest and tried to push him away, but he immediately tightened his arms. Anger began to flow through her veins like fire.

But suddenly it was a different fire, made not of anger but of excitement. If she had given in to it she would have strained against him, seeking more kisses and yet more. But pride would not let her do so. She was still angry with him, and if she yielded an inch it would be a victory to him in the battle between them, that had raged since the moment she had burst into his house.

He was proud, but so was she, and she would not let him think he had won her over in the slightest way. She could not afford to.

He seemed to sense her rebellion and began to move his lips more seductively over hers, as though determined to be the winner in this battle.

Lavina's head spun. Suddenly she no longer wanted to fight, but to yield, to give herself to him utterly and completely. Somehow her arms had found their way about his neck and she was pulling his head down to hers, kissing him back eagerly, feverishly.

“Lavina – ” he murmured.

His voice seemed to call her back from a great distance. His mouth had released hers, he was looking down into her face with a look of stunned astonishment.

Her breath came raggedly, and suddenly she was herself again, shocked at her own behaviour. How could she have behaved so disgracefully, with such unladylike abandon? He had said that she had no sense of propriety, and she had proved him right.

She pulled away, and this time he released her. She walked a few steps away and stood there, breathing hard.

After a moment he came close, but did not try to touch her. It seemed a long time before he spoke.

“Forgive me. It is I who lack propriety. I should not have taken advantage of – that is – you are very foolish to be angry with me for – for what I said to the Queen.”

“Am I?” she asked in a muffled voice.

“It is well known that Her Majesty believes in the subjection of women – ”

Lavina turned and gave him an incredulous stare.

“As long as it's other women,” the Marquis added wryly. “She has been known to speak about the ‘dreadful wickedness of Women's Rights'. She deludes herself, of course, but she thinks this is what she believes. So I simply used the one argument that she could not answer. Can't you understand that?”

“I suppose so,” she said reluctantly.

“I know that, for you, it goes against the grain to defer to me, but in that lies your safety, and your father's safety. It puts the whole responsibility for defying the Queen on to my shoulders, and I promise you I can fight the battle better than either of you.”

“You are right, of course,” she admitted reluctantly.

“I am doing this as much for your father as for you. His place at court means a lot to him, and if he offends the Queen too much, he may lose it.

“For your sake, he will take that risk, but he dreads a life without his occupation. If I can get the royal wrath directed at me, he may escape the worst.”

“How kind you are,” she said impulsively, forgetting how angry she had recently been with him..

“Nonsense,” he said, with a return to the brusqueness that was more normal with him.

“But you are, to have thought of him, and how badly he would be hurt. That isn't only kind, it's imaginative.”

“You are making a fuss about nothing,” he said coldly. “It is merely the most efficient way of managing things. The Queen's wrath means nothing to me because I wouldn't have a place at court for anything she could offer.

“With your father, it's different. He's a convivial man. He likes people, enjoys having them around him. With me, it is different. So don't start attributing sentimental motives to me. Kindness has nothing to do with it.”

Lavina looked at him with a touch of sadness.

“I don't believe you,” she said at last.

“Then you should know better,” he said flatly.

“Why do you hide your better self from people? Would it be so terrible if the world knew you have a side that is generous and sensitive?”

“You were wiser when we first met,” he declared. “Then you were hostile to me. You tried to hide it because you were asking my help, but your dislike was there. You should have remained hostile, and I advise you to do so.”

“Nonsense!” she said loudly.

He stared.

“What did you say?”

“I said ‘nonsense'. If you can say it, so can I. I never heard a man talking such gibberish in all my life.” Her lips curved in an ironical, almost teasing smile.

“So you advise me to stay hostile to you? After the way you just kissed me? Was that designed to make me feel hostile.”

She had him there, she was glad to see. He coloured and for a moment his composure deserted him.

“You have a very sharp tongue,” he said at last.

“Not sharp,” she said, shaking her head. “Swift. Like my perceptions.”

“And what – exactly – do you think you perceive?”

She gave him the same smile.

“I'll tell you that another time.”

“Yes, let us return,” he said with an effort. “We have both talked more than enough nonsense.”

*

For the reception at Balmoral Lavina's appearance was a triumph of Mrs Banty's art. Her gown, with a bustle and a long train was made of cream silk with a matching over-skirt of silk gauze, and a deep flounce of lace.

As the crowning touch she wore the Elswick emeralds which the Marquis, once more using the wonderful modern telegraph system, instructed Hunsbury to bring north.

“I would have brought them with me if I had anticipated this situation,” he told Lavina, “but I must confess the Queen's wits were more devious than mine on this occasion. But I think I've made up for it by the other item Hunsbury will be bringing with him.”

It turned out to be an exquisite diamond engagement ring, which his mother had previously worn.

Now she was trumpeting to the world that she was unavailable to Prince Stanislaus.

“And by the way,” the Marquis added, “The Prince is rather on the short side.”

“You know him?” she asked quickly.

“I have encountered him during the course of my travels,” the Marquis said coolly. “It hasn't left me eager to know him better. My point was that ladies who wish to earn his goodwill always wear their lowest heels.

“Then I shall wear my highest,” Lavina said defiantly.

The Marquis grinned his approval.

The McEwuans felt no resentment at not being included in the invitation. They had never been part of court circles. They cheered the other three on their way with genuine, kindly enthusiasm.

By royal decree, ‘tartan would be worn' by those entitled to wear it. Lord Ringwood had borrowed his cousin's kilt, somewhat reluctantly since he lacked the tall, elegant figure necessary to do it justice. But, as he explained to his daughter with a sigh,

“If Her Majesty insists that I show my knobbly knees, then I don't mind doing so in order to placate her.”

“Papa, I think you're absolutely heroic,” Lavina exclaimed.

If her father lacked the figure to wear a kilt, the same could not be said of the Marquis. He appeared in the kilt of the McDonald clan, explaining that one of his aunts had married the Laird.

“When my valet knew that I was coming to Scotland he insisted on packing it as a precaution,” he explained.

He had the long, straight legs necessary to show the kilt as its best, and the broad-shouldered height needed by the black velvet jacket. For once his hair was brushed into a fashionable style.

It was a pity, Lavina thought, that he did not go into society more often, for he was handsome enough to turn all heads.

It was about five miles to Balmoral, and as they drove through the countryside the day was turning to a soft, enchanting twilight.

Lavina knew that she looked her best in the gorgeous dress, and the emeralds, and at any other time she would have enjoyed the prospect. But tonight she could think only that the Queen was very determined to trap her, and her only safety lay in the Marquis, sitting opposite her.

At this moment he looked capable of dealing with anything. He had an air of lofty grandeur that suited his rank.

He was looking away, regarding the scenery, so that she could see his profile, the slightly hooked nose emphasising the power of his face.

Then he turned to smile at her, and suddenly the world was different. There was unexpected charm in that smile, and for a moment this was the man she had met that night on the boat, when they had entered the world of music together, and found each other.

Then the carriage was slowing down, coming to a halt at Balmoral Castle. Footmen were coming forward to let down the steps and open the doors.

The inside of Balmoral came as a shock. Queen Victoria loved everything Scottish, including the tartans. So there was tartan everywhere in the castle, tartan drapes, tartan furniture coverings, mile after mile of tartan carpet.

Even more astonishing were the ‘No Smoking' signs that appeared everywhere. Queen Victoria hated smoking and made it as hard as possible for smokers within her palaces.

Then they were at the entrance to the grand reception room. Lavina and her father were to enter first, with the Marquis behind them.

The Chamberlain cried,

“Lord Ringwood, Lady Lavina Ringwood and Lord Elswick.”

She looked down the long carpet at the tiny figure of the Queen at the far end. She was a short woman, but to Lavina she seemed monumental, towering over the whole world, threatening her with a dire fate.

Then she felt a hand reaching for hers, grasping it in a firm, reassuring hold. It was the Marquis, reminding her that he had promised to protect her, no matter what.

She squeezed his hand in return, telling him that she trusted him. Then she stepped forward and began the journey, getting closer to Queen Victoria, and also closer to another figure standing beside her.

It was a man of just under medium height. He had jet black, oily-looking hair and a huge moustache to match. But what really caught Lavina's appalled attention was thick, fat lips, small piggy eyes and an expression of leering self-satisfaction.

This was Prince Stanislaus of Kadradtz, the man that Her Majesty was determined she should marry, no matter what the consequences. She might break her heart or be driven to despair, but by hook or by crook that determined little woman would force her into this hellish marriage.

Lord Ringwood bowed to his sovereign, and Lavina dropped a low, sweeping curtsey.

The Queen remained silent for a long moment, while her face registered cool disdain. When she spoke, her voice was stern.

“How nice to see you, Lord Ringwood – at last! We were very disappointed that you did not see fit to obey our earlier summons on
a matter of national importance
.”

The way the Queen said the last words froze Lavina's blood. It told her that Her Majesty was not going to give up without a fight.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Lord Ringwood said. “I meant no disrespect, but I was beside myself with joy, celebrating the engagement of my daughter to the Marquis of Elswick, and I'm afraid I got into a muddle.”

At the mention of the engagement the Queen's face stiffened, but all she said was,

“It is no matter. Fortunately we are in time to retrieve the situation.”

“Good evening, Your Majesty.”

The voice was Lord Elswick's, and it was a breach of protocol for him to address the Queen before she had taken notice of him. Lavina saw courtiers stiffen all around them, astonished and outraged at his daring.

But the Marquis knew the game the Queen was playing, and was not going to let her get away with it. Having forced himself to her attention he looked her directly in the eye.

She did not meet his gaze, but directed Lavina and her Papa to the little man standing beside her.

“Price Stanislaus, allow me to present
two members of
my family
, the Earl of Ringwood, and his daughter, Lady Lavina Ringwood, of whom you have heard me speak.”

There was no mistaking her meaning, or the significant glance the Prince gave to Lavina. His eyes were narrowed in calculation, and yet he seemed to look her over in a moment. A dead smile appeared on his lips.

Lavina shuddered.

As she curtsied in front of him she tried to keep her head up higher than she would normally have done. Her dress was low cut, as was normal with evening gowns, and she was sure this slug-like creature would peer more closely at her
décolletage
than was decent.

As she rose the Prince smiled at her.

“Charming,” he said in a heavy accent. “Delightful. You are just as I was led to expect.”

Lavina kept her face a determined blank.

“There is surely no reason for Your Royal Highness to have expected anything from me.”

He smiled. A cat, contemplating a pot of cream might have smiled like that.

“There is every reason, and I shall take the greatest delight in explaining it to you.”

If only, she thought, Papa could help her, but the Queen had detained him in conversation. She was smiling, giving every appearance of friendliness, but Lavina suspected this was a ruse to leave her with Prince Stanislaus.

But there were several other people waiting to be announced, and even the Queen could not hold up the line any longer.

Lord Ringwood moved on to Stanislaus, and greeted him with such an angry glare that Lavina was startled. She had not known that her gentle father was capable of such ferocity.