Midnight Kisses (Midnight Series)
Emily Bold
Midnight Kisses
Midnight - Series, Book I
(Novella)
Other books in this series
Midnight Tears
(Book II)
Midnight Dreams
(Book III)
Other books
The Curse - Touch of Eternity
(Book I)
The Curse - Breath of Yesterday
(Book II)
First published in German in 2012 as
Vergessene Küsse
Copyright © 2012 Emily Bold
English translation: Katja Bell
Edit: Wilson E. Lewis
Coverdesign: © Cover Art by jdesign.at
Stock: Jimmy Thomas
Vector stock images: Vectorian FreeVector Pack
@ http://vectorian.net
Author photograph: Guido Karp for www.p41d.com
All rights reserved, including total or partial reproduction in any form.
This is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental and unintentional.
Prologue
London, England
The year’s ball season was set to conclude in a grandiose fireworks display in only a few more moments. The glitzy, colorful masses pushed through wide-open doors out into the night and onto the brightly lit sundecks to reserve a favorable spot for the upcoming show. Voluptuous matrons showing off their artful hair creations and assorted head pieces made their way to the front of the lines, encircled by expensively-dressed dandies who were no less dolled up and eagerly lapping at their affections. Then came the wives, the chaperones, the debutantes, who tried to attend and watch the spectacle in a somewhat more dignified manner. Even if today’s ball was the final ball of the social season, they made sure to put on a good show and keep up appearances, for—even though this or that marriage arrangement had already been made on the quiet—they could not at the last minute risk to appear in any negative light.
Behind them, at a polite distance, the gentlemen. They were nursing their brandies and quietly congratulating one another on any particularly unexpected conquests.
“We might as well take the carriage home right now!” Lady Lockworth exclaimed in a shrill voice. God only knew she had tried everything to introduce young Danielle to polite society, but during all this time, and despite her very best efforts, the plain-Jane girl had not attracted a single suitor, not even one. Much as she pitied the young girl, there was nothing else she could do for her, and the thought of it was wearing her down. Things were different when she was young. By Danielle’s age she had already grown tired of the lavish parties and excesses, and it was only because she owed Danielle’s family a favor that she agreed to making this ball season even possible for the child. The girl’s family would not be able to afford another season, and so Danielle would likely have to find her calling by joining a convent.
Well, the child’s fate was no longer hers to worry about. She just wanted to get home and bring this inconvenient obligation to its unsatisfactory conclusion, preferably before the carriages of all the other ball guests blocked the streets of London and made her return journey twice as long as it needed to be.
Also, Lady Lockworth did not believe in the kind of miracle that turned an ugly duckling into a beautiful and desirable swan at the last minute.
“Danielle, dear, did you hear what I said?” she impatiently repeated her question and tugged at the young girl’s sleeve.
Danielle gave a sad nod, turning her eyes away from the elegantly dressed members of high society who, in anticipation of the fireworks, were still spilling out into the night. None of the gentlemen had asked her to accompany him outside. No one looked over as she stayed behind in the enormous ballroom all by herself. Nobody seemed to take notice of her.
She pressed her lips together, bravely fighting back the tears that were welling up in her eyes.
“Of course, Lady Lockworth. We shall leave right away,” she agreed with the tall, stern woman who, after the death of her late husband, had never stopped wearing her mourning dress. Whether it was the baroness’s sour expression, or in fact her dark, gloomy clothing that had discouraged any young men from approaching, Danielle would never find out, for she would not receive a second chance.
No, Danielle could not allow herself to think about the baroness in such a way. Lady Lockworth had been nothing but kind to her. She had applied her influences to introduce Danielle into the upper circles of London and had even outfitted her beyond the means her father had allowed for this year’s ball season.
That Danielle had not been able to attract a gentleman’s attention was more likely due to her own physical appearance.
She looked—as Lady Lockworth liked to say—“shockingly like a boy.”
Her slender figure, her almost complete lack of feminine curves, and the fact that she was unusually tall for a girl—almost as tall as her brothers—did not fit with the expectations these fine gentlemen had of a future wife. Not even her big, open smile and her large, brown eyes could make up for this. Indeed, Lady Lockworth had gone so far as to ask her not to smile too much for fear of people noticing her mouth, which was slightly too big for her face. The only compliment the baroness had paid her was on account of her golden brown hair. Unfortunately, it was now fashionable for young ladies to wrap their hair in a simple French braid around the crown, and so Danielle could not show off the only asset that she had—her shiny locks.
With an almost sympathetic look on her face, Lady Lockworth now took to patting Danielle’s clammy hands.
“This is not the end, my dear. Obviously life has different plans for you. Now stop making such a miserable face. Come, come.”
With that, the baroness pulled Danielle behind her through the now-empty ballroom. They asked for their coats, and the older lady breathed a sigh of relief when they descended the main staircase and she could finally motion for one of the servants to call them a carriage.
Lady Lockworth had just climbed in when Danielle suddenly stopped.
“My fan!” she called out. “Lady Lockworth, please excuse me for a moment, but I forgot my hand fan!”
From the deep, dark depths of the carriage came an unwilling snort before the baroness stuck her head out again.
“Forget your silly fan! You own dozens of them, and still you won’t be using any of them ever again.”
“But it was the prettiest of them all! I will be right back,” Danielle objected, gathering up her long, ecru-colored gown that was tailored after the latest fashion, and hurried up the staircase, back into the brightly lit ballroom.
Only a handful of servants noticed her return, because all the guests had by now congregated in the gardens to witness the fireworks display. She looked around the large, empty room. The countless candelabras above her head blazed brightly and painted a sparkling pattern on the marble floors, which was reflected a thousand times over by the many mirrors on the tall walls. The musicians were using the short break to tune their instruments, and all she could hear was the soft, woody sound of a cello being practiced.
Danielle cut across the room at a brisk pace, and the rustling of her gown seemed so loud that she was worried about attracting someone’s attention after all. Feeling the pitiful eyes of the fancy ladies on her again was the last thing she needed—those same ladies who had met her with such blatant disapproval since day one.
She had last seen her hand fan on the small table by the patio door leading out into one of the gardens, and that was exactly where she now spotted its golden lace trim under an opulent flower bouquet. With a sense of relief, she took the fan and clutched it to her chest. She had loved the golden embroidery of a dolphin jumping through frothing waves from the moment she first laid eyes on it.
Danielle was about to hurry back to Lady Lockworth and her carriage when the first bang of the fireworks drew a long, marveling “Ohhhh” from the excited crowd. Curious, she pressed her face against the window pane. Purple-colored stars rained down from the firmament, and an intense sadness washed all over her. All these people had good reason to celebrate; it was only her own life that was sad and pathetic. So sad, in fact, that she wasn’t even worthy of watching a fireworks display. Now a glittering, gilded fountain was spilling out across the dark night sky, and Danielle opened the glass doors. Slowly, she stepped outside, eyes fixated on the magic happening above her head. The baroness waiting in the carriage, her own uncertain future, and the sad truth that no gentleman had courted her today—all but forgotten. She opened her heart to the beauty of the moment and allowed the magic of the fireworks to captivate her soul.
The friendly laughter of a woman and a few quietly-muttered words jolted Danielle back to reality. Quickly, she stepped behind a large potted plant and held her breath. Goodness. She was hiding here in the darkness like a common thief! A raven-haired beauty with bright red lips and kohl-rimmed eyes stepped out onto the sundeck a little farther away to the side, beckoning a man to come closer with a flirtatious wiggle of her fan.
Danielle prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her whole, when she realized that the pair had not noticed her and had apparently decided to dispense with common morality. The man made great, confident strides to reach the lady and put his hands around her small waist. In a husky voice, he whispered something in her ear, and she threw back her head seductively, allowing him to kiss her neck.
Danielle stared at her with her eyes wide open. This was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Her red dress, with an almost indecently low neckline, and her long hair freely plunging down her back and side in a waterfall of shiny dark waves: an open rebellion against conventions. When the man brushed the top of the dress off the woman’s shoulders and cupped her full, bare breast in his hand, Danielle quickly shut her eyes. But then she heard the lustful moan of the woman, which forced her to open her eyes again and peek at the busily-engaged pair through the leaves of the plant. The man was tall. Quite a bit taller than his lady friend, and also the young men she had seen fawning over the debutantes earlier. In fact, Danielle had never seen him before, not at any of the dances she attended, and she was quite sure she would have noticed him. He exuded an air of masculine strength and dominance that sent shivers down her spine. She barely dared look at him, and so she lowered her gaze. But that didn’t help, because now she was able to admire his strong thighs that were muscular, yet elegant underneath the fine fabric of his breeches. The woman’s hands wandered shamelessly down the man’s back and over his buttocks, and Danielle found herself reaching out her hands, too. Quickly, she stopped herself from pursuing such nonsense and yet found it impossible to avert her eyes. After all, she had never seen two people doing
that
!
The tall stranger moaned and kept urging his companion on and on. His hands pulled her skirts up higher, and he lifted her upper thigh while his other hand disappeared deep inside the layers of fabric billowing out around her hips.
“Milord!” the woman gasped, and Danielle drew a sharp breath. Should she come to the woman’s aid?
“Oh, Milord! Don’t stop!” the lady begged, throwing her head back. With a triumphant smile, the man opened his eyes—and froze when he noticed Danielle.
“Milord!” the woman now pleaded desperately, pressing herself up against him.
Danielle’s cheeks were ablaze from the shame and embarrassment she felt, and tears were welling up in her eyes. What must those two think of her? But her fear of unleashing a scandal, now that she had been found out, proved unfounded. The man’s smile widened ever-so-slightly. He winked at her, and, without taking his eyes off her, continued his game of seduction. He brushed the lady’s shiny hair off her shoulders, thus offering Danielle an unobstructed view of his face while his lips continued caressing the woman’s neck.
He’s playing with me
, Danielle suddenly realized, but she couldn’t help but notice her own breath quicken along with the other woman’s.
“Devlin!” the raven-haired beauty screamed against his chest as she sank against him, spent and breathing heavily.
The man named Devlin lifted his face, his burning eyes resting on Danielle’s blushed cheeks and her quivering lips. His wide, diabolical grin showed off a row of beautiful white teeth before he pressed a firm kiss against his lover’s brightly painted lips.
“Claire, my dear, it is time for you to go back inside before anybody notices we’re missing. I’ll follow you in a few.”
Gently, he steered his beautiful companion back toward the door, all the while smoothing down her skirts. His broad shoulders shielded Danielle from any curious glances, but she could clearly see every movement of the other woman. With her eyes glazed over and a satisfied sparkle in them, the woman named Claire pressed herself against her lover one last time, before pulling the bodice up over her breasts and returning to the ballroom that was slowly filling up with partygoers again.