Liberty for Paul (19 page)

“Yes, a waltz,” Brooke chimed in. “Allison has been looking forward to it since she arrived. I believe the orchestra will be playing one next.”

Paul looked at Miss Ellis. He couldn’t see her very well without his spectacles. Her face looked blurred, but he could see she shared the same beauty as her cousins. Best of all, he could tell she was smiling; and it was directed straight at him.

He led her to the floor where partners were indeed taking the floor and preparing for a waltz. “I must confess I haven’t waltzed in a long time. I hope you don’t value your toes,” he jested.

“Not to worry, Mr. Daltry. I have the most uncomfortably hard slippers on tonight,” she informed him. Then she peeked up at him from under her lashes and added slyly, “They also have a heel, and I am not above retaliation.”

Paul chuckled. “Ah, now I know where it comes from,” he mused.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “I always wondered where the Banks sisters got their vengeful streak,” he said lightly, “and now I know. It’s from Carolina’s side.”

“Are you acquainted with them, then?” she asked after they’d started to dance.

“Not well,” he said to cover his slip. It wouldn’t do for him to reveal too much after all the pains he’d gone through to disguise himself so Liberty would never know of this.

“Are you counting, Mr. Daltry?” she asked laughingly after a moment.

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me, Miss Ellis,” he said sheepishly. He’d definitely been counting. And it wasn’t for the reason she’d thought. Ever since he’d taken her in his arms, his blood started pumping so quick he could hardly stand it. Perhaps it was because he was afraid of someone finding out his identity, which would cause more problems than he’d like to consider. Or maybe it was because for some strange reason he liked the way she felt in his arms. The way her hands were touching his shoulder and hand felt like twin branding irons on his skin. The silk of her crimson gown brushed his leg with every move, which only added to his excitement. An excitement he knew he should not be feeling. So to stave off the excitement, he’d focused on counting.

“It’s all right,” she said softly. “If you don’t wish to waltz, I won’t hold it against you.”

“Are you certain?” he asked, relieved. “Perhaps we could take a tour of the veranda?”

“That would be most excellent,” she agreed.

***

Thank goodness that’s over, Liberty thought as Mr. Daltry led her to the veranda. She’d thought her body was going to catch fire with all sparks he was sending through her merely by touching her. Only one man had ever been able to cause those types of sensations before, Paul. She bit her lip. Paul would be appalled to know where she was tonight. He still thought she was with Elizabeth recovering from her “illness”.

She hadn’t wanted to come tonight, she reminded herself again. It was just that yesterday when Brooke approached her about needing a favor, Liberty couldn’t refuse. She’d been hesitant when Brooke explained the favor was to help one of Andrew’s friends, a shy Mr. Daltry, feel more at ease in a London ballroom. Bemused, she’d asked Brooke why on earth she was the chosen candidate. Brooke ignored her questions and protests, claiming there was no one else to do this. Liberty knew Madison was out of the question, but surely Brooke knew of someone else to do this.

After much cajoling, Liberty agreed. Brooke acted so excited at her agreement and waxed for thirty minutes about how much fun Liberty was going to have while Liberty just rolled her eyes and shook her head. Helping a shy stranger acquaint himself with the social scene of the ballroom did not sound like her idea of an evening’s entertainment. Yet, now she realized she may have been wrong.

She looked up at the devastatingly handsome Mr. Daltry. Where had he been when she’d first come to London, she wondered, taking a seat on a bench. Mr. Daltry tried to join her, but his sword kept banging into the bench. She tried unsuccessfully not to laugh at his situation. “Having trouble?” she teased.

He flashed her a quick smile. “Indeed. I believe the man who picked out this costume has a wicked sense of humor.”

His smile made her heart skip a beat. It was nothing less than a full out grin. Averting her gaze, she said, “Perhaps you should just take it off.” His eyes went wide and she realized she’d inadvertently just suggested he take off his whole costume instead of just the sword. “I meant the sword,” she said to clarify, blushing.

He chuckled. It was a low, rich sound that sent shivers to her toes. “Fine suggestion, but I think I’ll leave it on for now,” he said, twisting the sword in a way that allowed him to sit down. “I would have left it off altogether, but I feared your uncle would have complained. He’s the one who picked this ridiculous outfit.”

She laughed, causing all the curls Brooke’s hairdresser put into her hair shake. “I believe it. I didn’t pick mine, either,” she said, gesturing to herself. Brooke and Mama had taken it upon themselves to pick her costume. Since she’d arrived this morning, they’d been fighting with each other over who was going to be her chaperone and she’d suggested they could be co-chaperones, not that there was such a thing, but it made them happy enough.

She would have argued with their costume choice if not for their stern determination mixed with her fear of being discovered. Instead, she ignored the little voice inside her that was screaming, “Do not put that ghastly costume on!” and put it on anyway. There was nothing Liberty liked about the costume, except maybe the color of the dress. The dress was a dark crimson red and it had white lace stitched around the edges. The bodice swooped a bit too low, revealing more of her bosom than she liked. There was a gold chord that was woven in an out of different loops on the bodice then formed a bow that rested right in the middle of her breasts. If the low swoop wasn’t enough to draw a man’s attention there, the bow would do it. Except Mr. Daltry. She had yet to catch his gaze drift there.

She shifted again and felt her headpiece shift. She hadn’t a clue what the thing was called. All she knew was it was ugly and heavy. It looked like a giant pillow that formed a semicircle and rested right on the crown of her head. At least her curls had turned out, Liberty thought with a sigh. Brooke’s hairdresser worked for more than two hours to get her hair just right. And she had to admit, she’d done a great job with the curls.

“Well, it looks very pretty on you, Miss Ellis” he told her, making her blush and cringe at the same time. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be so forward.” His voice was quiet and he made move like he was about to get up.

“No, no. It’s not what you said,” Liberty rushed to assure him, laying her hands on his arms to stay him.

He looked at her like she was fit for bedlam.

“That is to say, it’s not your fault exactly. See, I hate my name,” she explained and felt him relax.

He still stared at her like she’d lost her mind, but at least his body had relaxed and he wasn’t in a rush to depart her company. She couldn’t explain why she was relieved he’d relaxed and was still sitting next to her. “If you stay, I shall tell you a secret,” she said, hoping he’d be more likely to stay if he knew she was about to reveal something personal and perhaps vulnerable about herself. “I have this great-grandmother that wasn’t so great,” she said with a bitter smile. “Great-Grandma Ellis we all called her. Anyway, the woman was nothing but a sour faced, hateful old windbag. She went around criticizing the whole family. She’d always look for flaws and when she found one, she’d publically ridicule the person for it. I remember a specific birthday party I attended where she criticized poor Liberty about her crooked teeth the whole time.” She abruptly stopped herself and dropped her eyes to stare at her fisted hands. She didn’t dare look at Mr. Daltry for fear he’d see right through her disguise and she’d be exposed. Though she didn’t recognize Mr. Daltry, she couldn’t be sure he didn’t know Paul. Thinking she better say
something
and quick, she hastened to add, “Anyway, I just prefer not to be called ‘Miss Ellis’ because it reminds me of her and I’d rather not think of her.”

“All right,” he agreed. His voice sounded uneven and held a hint of a sharper edge than it had a minute ago. Turning to favor her with another grin, he said, “We shall never speak of her again. Instead, I shall call you, Miss…?”

Mrs. Grimes
, she wanted to say proudly. She’d been thinking a lot about Paul recently. After many heart-felt conversations with Elizabeth, she’d decided she would ask him the truth. Not only did she think as his wife she deserved that, but she’d missed him more in the past two weeks than she could have predicted. Somewhere during that fortnight she’d discovered she truly cared for him and even if he would never feel the same way for her, she at least wanted to know if there was even a sliver of a chance. Earlier today she’d decided after this folly with Mr. Daltry was over, she’d go see him. But for now, she needed to play her role. “Allison. You may call me Allison,” she said at last.

“Allison,” he repeated. “You may call me Tom.”

Was it her imagination or did he slightly hesitate before he said his name? “If you’d prefer I not call you Tom, I can still call you Mr. Daltry,” she offered, knowing she probably would anyway. She had no business calling another man by his Christian name, especially after all the trouble Paul had gone through to get her to use his.

He smiled. “No, no. It’s fine,” he assured her.

She looked at him curiously. “All right, Tom,” she said nervously with a half-smile. She’d said it only to please him so he wouldn’t call her “Miss Ellis” again.

“Your accent is quite pronounced,” he said, leaning back on the bench.

Oh drat. Brooke and Mama had insisted she feign a strong American accent so not to be recognized. Perhaps she was overdoing it a bit. “Yes, well, I just arrived. Perhaps it will take a while for it to fade.” She flashed him a hopeful smile which he returned.

His gaze locked with hers for a moment and she noticed he had the most stunning green eyes. They were beautiful. Paul’s eyes are green, she thought with a pang of guilt as she tore her eyes away. She shouldn’t be thinking of this man’s eyes. And she really shouldn’t be enjoying his company nearly as much as she was.

“She has a lot of admirers,” Mr. Daltry said, startling her.

Liberty followed his gaze to where Madison was surrounded by a gaggle of gentlemen tripping over themselves while trying to vie for her attention. “She always did,” Liberty said numbly.

“Hmm, I always got the impression she was shy,” he said with a shrug.

“
Not at all, quite the opposite actually,” Liberty said, shaking her head. “Back home the men flocked to her like flies to honey. Every man of our acquaintance danced attendance on her. But her downfall was her soft spot for Robbie Swift. She fancied herself in love with him and he told her he felt the same. Yet, I doubt he did because he courted her for five
years
before ruthlessly throwing her over in order to marry another.”

“I see,” he said, nodding.

“The last time I saw her, she was still dreaming about what might have been,” she said, shaking her head.

“Do you not approve of daydreaming, then?” he asked, looking at her curiously.

Startled, she met his curious eyes. “No, well, yes. I mean, my reaction wasn’t because I disagree with daydreaming exactly. It was a reaction I have every time I think of that varmint and how he ruined her life. She is better off without him in her life, even if it causes her to daydream. Which, I must confess,” she lowered her gaze, “I haven’t always been the most understanding of.”

“Haven’t you?” The question was spoken with more than just his lips. His whole face seemed to be asking her the question, and she couldn’t lie.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Sadly, no. I’ve been far more critical of her than anyone else.” He turned his face away so quickly she wasn’t able to gauge his expression, but she knew he couldn’t possibly think very highly of her after this revelation. “If you’d like, I can get you a dance with her,” she offered, trying to end the uncomfortable tension by ending the situation entirely.

“No,” he said, shaking his head.

“Are you sure? She won’t mind that you count,” she countered, trying to sound encouraging.

“No, I’d rather not go back in there and dance with her. I’d rather stay here, and dance with you,” he said with a smile that made her bones melt and her breath catch.

Chapter 23

Paul stood up and pulled her into his arms. The orchestra had just begun playing the first strains of another waltz. He forced himself to calm down and think clearly. His blood was pumping faster than it had last time they’d danced together. But this time it wasn’t for the same reason. This time he was angry. This was Liberty in his arms, not some cousin. She probably didn’t even have a cousin named Allison Ellis. Why had she come to a ball to meet with another gentleman? Even if her parents had set it up where she was only meeting with him, it still hurt that she’d come in the first place. He wanted to drag her from this veranda and demand an explanation, but not before having some fun at her expense first.

Holding her closer than proper, and hoping to scandalize her by doing so, he waltzed her around the veranda, ending up in an even darker, more secluded spot.

“Perhaps we should go back in,” she said, a hint of anxiety in her voice.

Good. He wanted her to be anxious thinking a man other than her husband was taking her off to a dark corner where he could ravish her and nobody would hear a thing. Where was the woman that cared so much for propriety that she’d have a fit at the mere suggestion of leaving the ballroom? He knew her propriety obsession hadn’t been an act, she’d had five hundred nineteen books on the subject when they’d married.

“No,” he said silkily, shaking his head, “I’d rather stay right here. With you.”

Her face turned a fetching bright red. “Well, umm…,” she cleared her throat and stepped on his foot. “Sorry,” she murmured. “It’s just that dancing out here with me won’t help you.”

“Help me?” he questioned, searching her eyes.

She bit her lip and looked away. “With your problem.”

“My problem?” he echoed, confusion marring his face.

She bit her lip harder now. His hand left her waist and went up to her face. With the pad of his thumb, he pulled her lower lip free of her teeth’s brutal grasp. Startled, she abruptly jerked her head up to look directly into his eyes. She swallowed and he used the pad of his thumb to brush the teeth marks that were left on her lip while his fingers glided along the rigid edge of her jaw. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand. “My problem,” he prompted.

Her eyes flew open and she colored again. “Umm, Brooke told me you were painfully shy and asked if I would acquaint you with the ballroom, so to speak.”

“I see,” he said unevenly. She’d just revealed that Brooke was a part of this. Why? More importantly, why did Liberty eagerly agree to her plan? Did she know who he was? “And you have a wealth of experience navigating London ballrooms,” he asked, looking at her curiously.

“Not really. I’ve only been in a few ballrooms in New York,” she said evasively. “I actually refused at first. I reminded her of my limited ability to help you. Then she started begging, pleading, and at one point I thought she was going to twist my arm—quite literally. Finally, after hearing her prattle on and on for the better part of four hours, I agreed.”

Paul felt his anger ebb slightly. She’d been tricked into this just as he had. She hadn’t come here tonight looking for his replacement after all. “I see. However, I do wonder about one thing,” he mused aloud.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously.

“It seems you’re stuck helping a poor shy boy like me, what is she going to do for you?” He flashed her a shy smile then moved his hand back to her waist and gave her a tight squeeze. Though his anger had dimmed, his blood was still thrumming through his veins. Perhaps it hadn’t only been his anger making his blood course a few minutes ago.

“Oh, actually, she promised not to retaliate against me in our next game of charades,” she said with a laugh.

“Pardon?”

“I once played a game of charades and embarrassed her in front of a gentleman. Badly. Anyway, in exchange for my helping you, she agreed not to do the same to me,” she explained.

“I see. And do you believe she’ll keep her word?” he asked, pulling her a touch closer.

“I have no doubt she will. She won’t like what will happen to her if she doesn’t,” she said with a laugh.

“Right, you believe in retaliation,” he said playfully.

“You bet I do,” she retorted.

“Even if it’s on someone you love?” he asked, his eyes dancing with merriment.

“Especially then,” she answered, her lips twitching. “Where do you think I learned it from?”

He grinned. “And do you think she’ll keep her promise?”

“Of course,” she said with a bright smile. “I made her put it in writing.”

He chuckled. “You’re very clever. But what if she reneges?”

“Oh, she won’t,” she said with a giggle.

He pulled her a little closer to him and gave her waist another encouraging squeeze. “You seem rather certain.”

“I am. She also signed something acknowledging that if she reneged, I’d pretend to get drunk and expose her biggest secrets next time she hosted a house party.”

He let out a bark of laughter and she playfully swatted his arm.

“Shhh. You’ll draw attention to us,” she said, putting her pink tipped index finger to her smiling lips.

“And would that be a bad thing?” he asked, scanning her face for a better answer than her lips would give.

“There could be a scandal,” she said, biting her lip again.

Once again, he freed her lip, rubbing his fingertip on the hurting flesh to sooth the pain before grabbing her waist again. “Would that be so bad?”

“Yes,” she squeaked, trying to break out of his grasp.

He tightened his hold so she couldn’t flee. “Wouldn’t it likely lead to marriage?”

“Uh…umm…” she stammered, looking anywhere but at him as she struggled to get loose.

“You do know if a single man and woman are connected in a scandal of this nature, they’ll be forced to marry?” he asked easily, feeling his heartbeat pick up. What would she say to that?

“I know that,” she snapped, her eyes flashing fire.

“And would that be such a bad thing, Allison?” He’d deliberately used her fake name to catch her off guard.

Her eyes shot to his. “I can’t,” she said with a slight hitch in her voice.

Not sure if her voice faltered because she was uneasy in his tight grasp or because she’d want to marry him if she were able, he decided to press her further. “And why not?”

“Because I’m already married.”