Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (39 page)

The terrace doors were open and a number of guests walked in the garden. The sound of voices made a mockery of the music played by a small group of musicians in the corner of the large salon. From past visits, Meryon knew that the ballroom was at the back of the house, but he could see the doors were still closed so the dancing had not yet begun.

He worked his way to the stairs and a footman assured him that there were three rooms prepared for those interested in cards. That would be an ideal way to spend the next hour.

When he came down from the card room, he went directly to the ballroom. It was crowded and the dance floor was ringed with watchers, but he saw Elena immediately. She looked spectacular, wearing a bronze satin gown with
feathers in her hair. As much as she might try to blend in with the mothers and grandmothers with whom she stood, her youth and beauty set her apart.

She was chatting with Lady Monksford, though both of them kept their eyes on their charges as the girls danced their way up and down the line of a reel.

Meryon caught sight of Lord William as well, standing at the edge of the floor, on the other side of the room with some of the gentlemen. He was not talking to them but had his arms folded, watching Mia dance with all the pride of a mentor on this most important of nights.

By following his gaze Meryon was able to spot Miss Castellano. Elena’s ward was obviously enjoying every moment of her first ball. Meryon did not recognize her partner, an earnest young man who was agog at the beauty who had accepted his invitation to dance.

As the reel ended Meryon recalled his promise to dance with Miss Castellano. That would be the perfect opportunity to speak with Elena.

Meryon circled around the back of the crowd and came up beside Lady Monksford, her daughter, and Elena and her ward. Ah, he would earn eternal gratitude from Lady Monksford if he also danced with her daughter, a girl whose face was flushed with excitement that left her complexion mottled with red and white.

“Oh! I cannot dance like that again or I will look even worse.” Miss Monksford did not seem the slightest bit upset, but laughed when Mia said that she must dance outside on the terrace so as not to become overheated.

“Oh, yes, Mama would love that!”

The two of them dissolved into giggles but sobered
the moment they caught sight of the duke standing behind them.

“Your Grace!” Miss Castellano’s greeting was so enthusiastic that it sounded like they had been friends since her infancy.

Meryon returned her greeting, said hello to Lady Monksford, met her daughter, Miss Rosemary Monksford, and turned to greet Elena.

She curtsied to him. Meryon bowed. Then Elena gave him a small smile. Not very meaningful but better than nothing. He wanted to ask her to dance but thought to wait for a waltz. Instead, as the next set formed, he asked if he might dance with Miss Castellano.

“You must call me Mia, Your Grace. We have known each other quite long enough.”

And I am so much older than you that I could almost be your father
. He thought it for her, though in fact, Mia was all smiles and charm and did not appear at all put off by his age.

They took their turn on the floor, and later he did the same with Miss Monksford and three other young ladies. They all danced creditably well, but Mia Castellano was by far the best of the group.

Finally,
finally
the concert master announced a waltz. Meryon turned to Elena and bowed. “Would you dance with me, signora?”

“No, Your Grace. This is Mia’s night. I am observing.”

It was not a snub, but close enough that the baroness murmured, “Elena.” The one word conveyed a wealth of sensibilities, all of which could be summed up in a few more words. Something akin to “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Meryon knew exactly what Elena was thinking. That she wanted nothing to do with him but would remain civil at all costs. For Mia.

He was ruthless enough to take advantage of that. He had to have a few minutes alone with her. “I’m sure you would enjoy a breath of air, a sweet or perhaps a lemonade.” Meryon held out his arm and, as he hoped, she could not refuse.

He smiled and she looked away, which struck him as odd until the baroness laughed. “Oh, my goodness, no wonder you do not use that smile very often, Your Grace.”

He turned that same smile on the lady and she blushed. “So few occasions merit it, my lady, but this company is exceptional.”

Lady Monksford curtsied to him and pretended that Rosemary had called her, leaving them alone.

Elena hesitated and then, with a word to the mother of one of Mia’s friends, let Meryon escort her to the dining room. The room was empty, supper not yet announced, but one of the servants was happy to bring the duke and his guest some wine.

“Let’s stand near the door so that The Gossips can see we are being civil but not secretive.”

They stood quietly for a moment. He enjoyed having her near, would have been happy to stay like that for an hour, but that, too, The Gossips would have noticed and commented on.

“Elena, Lord William told me this morning that you are the daughter of the Duke of Bendas. That he is the man who disowned you at the age of fourteen and the reason you went to Italy.”

“I see.” She put down her glass of wine and folded her hands at her waist. “Do you know why William found it necessary to violate my confidence?”

“He thought about it before he spoke. I am sure he considered it necessary. It was.”

“And why is that, Your Grace?”

“Your father—”

“The Duke of Bendas. I do not call him my father.”

Elena spoke with such anger Meryon hoped it was not aimed at him. “As you wish,” he said, bowing slightly. “Lord William thinks that the duke bought the Verano violin so that he can attempt a reconciliation.”

She seemed to consider the idea, and then shook her head. “I do not know if that makes a difference or not. I would just as soon buy it from him. I do not trust the Duke of Bendas at all.”

“Whether you reconcile with him or not, I need you to understand that I have every intention of stripping him of his title and his honors. And I want to assure you that action has nothing to do with you.”

She watched him for a long while, her eyes staring into his, as if she could find what she was looking for if she held his gaze long enough.

“Where is the stranger that I met on our first evening together?” she finally asked. “The man who kissed me with a touch that was a promise everything would be all right.” Elena reached for her glass and took a sip of the wine. “Almost every other time we have been together, in public, I’ve seen the man you are now, contained, with passion carefully controlled.”

She must have felt him stiffen at this rebuke because
she went on, her words hurried now. “I am sorry. I am sorry to hurt you this way. I need you to understand.”

He bowed from the neck, his face sober, but he said nothing. He understood. He understood that what he did have to give was inadequate by her standards.

“I do care about you, Meryon. I even worry.” She said the last as though it embarrassed her. Then she turned practical. “That night, when the wheel came off your carriage. Did it ever occur to you that you were the intended victim?”

“Yes.” It was almost the truth. “And it also occurred to me that you might have been a target as well.”

“Oh, you sound like William,” she said dismissively and set her glass of wine down. Holding out her hands, she raised and lowered them imitating a balance. “So, the feud between you and Bendas threatens me from both sides. There is very little comfort in the fact that if I am hurt, it is only because I am too close to one or the other of you.”

“It is not something to joke about. Bendas is quite unbalanced and I am determined to keep him from harming anyone else, including you. At least the danger from me is no more than hurt feelings.”

“Yes, a broken heart is so easy to recover from.”

“I am forever sorry, but I have apologized before. More than once.” Irritated, close to angry, Meryon turned to leave, But Elena stayed him with a hand on his arm.

“If you could ever learn to give love as passionately as you seek justice then there might be hope. If you were not so afraid to risk your heart.” She stopped as if she knew that was asking the impossible.

“I will escort you back to your friends, signora.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” She took his arm, barely touching his sleeve and they walked down the passage. “Neither of us wishes to attract The Gossips. Soon our friendship will be a dim memory.”

“Not too soon, I hope.”

“Once again, you ask more than I can give. I will forget it all, Your Grace, even our first meeting.”

“No, signora,” he said with deliberate command. “Our first meeting was as honest as a baby’s breath. It was a solace I did not know I needed and will always be grateful for.”

Meryon waited to see if she would say anything else. He could not recall the last time he had waited for someone to dismiss him.

“As you wish, Your Grace. I hope the rest of your evening is uneventful.”

Elena left him to return to her party. Meryon watched her out of sight, then found a footman and asked him to ensure that his carriage was brought round immediately. He left without saying good night to Metcalfe, who would hector him into going back to the card room when all he wanted was to go home.

As the carriage rolled through the streets he could not forget one line. “If you were not so afraid to risk your heart.”

Meryon realized he was not so different from Lord William.

He’d watched the young viscount watch Mia as she danced her way through her first ball. His heart was in his eyes. Every time she laughed or flirted with one of her
partners, he would wince as though it was a pinch to his heart.

If there was ever a man willing to declare himself, willing to share his heart, it was William Bendasbrook. And even he was afraid.
Not
a coward. Just afraid.

Meryon had seen many men who were afraid. It was not a company he particularly wanted to be numbered in but it was better than being called a coward.

The carriage came to a halt in front of Penn House. For now, he knew exactly what he was going to do: spend the rest of the evening with the one female who loved him without limit. Magda.

I
T TOOK A WEEK
to orchestrate the final confrontation with Bendas. In the meantime the Indemnity Act passed and the budget was under discussion.

Meryon had met twice with William Wilberforce and, even after frank discussion about the difficulties of even presenting a bill that would mandate care for widows and orphans, Meryon was still determined to go forward.

There had been no further attempts on his life, unless he wanted to count a particularly awful fish soup Cook had prepared.

Meryon had seen Elena Verano three times. They had bowed, curtsied, and spoken briefly, convincing no one that they were still on friendly terms.

There had been no word from The Gossips about Elena’s relationship to the Duke of Bendas, so Meryon
was reasonably certain she had either refused a meeting or not been approached.

Meryon was set on moving the family to the house in Richmond. His appearance at the Italian ambassador’s reception would be his farewell to the ton, and to Elena if he could find a few minutes alone with her.

Meryon spent most of that Saturday reviewing the confrontation with Bendas, determined to leave nothing to chance. The ton would be well represented and would be witnesses, but Meryon had also managed to secure the attendance of two of the Bendas trustees. They would inform the others.

Meryon left time to dress and arrive early, but when the nurse reported that Alicia was ill, he hurried up to the nursery. The child was feverish and chilled, the nurse had sent for a physician, and Rexton was playing out in the stables and would not be allowed near his sister until she was properly diagnosed.

Meryon was loath to leave, but his plans had been too difficult to arrange to abandon them for what might well be a cold.

He left strict orders for the nurse to send for him if the physician’s diagnosis warranted it, left the nursery, and dressed as quickly as he could.

Wilson rode in the carriage with him, if only to guarantee that his livery would not smell of horse. The boy knew exactly what was expected of him. As the duke’s page, he would be at Meryon’s beck and call. As the boy said, “Like I am for John Coachman or the head groom in the stable.”

“Everyone will be curious about you as I never use a
page. They will stare at you, but will not talk to you. You know exactly what you are to do.”

The boy nodded and they traveled the rest of the way in silence. Bringing a page, when he had never done so before, would attract the attention of The Gossips, which ensured they would not miss a moment.

The drive seemed to take forever, but that could have been because Wilson fidgeted so. Finally the coach reached the front door of an impressive townhouse, larger than the usual, with the double doors opened wide to the sight of people milling around inside.