Nicola Cornick (24 page)

‘Lady Carberry you know already, of course.’ Caroline’s voice held only the faintest hint of mischief as she looked from one to the other, although she could sense as well as everyone else the peculiar tension emanating from the two figures before her.

James was not smiling any more. There was a pause—the entire room appeared to be holding its breath. On the one side were those who
waited hopefully for James to administer the cut direct, a cruel snub to the woman he had once loved. On the other were those equally avid watchers who wanted confirmation of the rumours they had heard about a clandestine love affair between these two. There were very few uninterested observers.

James had intended to follow the same strategy as at Chartley, and acknowledge Alicia coolly and civilly before moving on. That would have squashed speculation on both sides and left the gossips with nothing to talk about. He had no intention of showing her any particular regard, despite his feelings, which could have been described as more than warm. Yet when it came to the point he could not do it.

He had been aware of Alicia from the moment he had stepped into the room. Leaving aside the effects of the outrageously provocative dress and the sheer ostentation of the green star, all his senses were conscious of her presence. Had he not exerted the most supreme self-control, he would have been drawn irresistibly to her side from the first moment. He had not seen Alicia for several weeks and had been astonished, chagrined and finally resignedly amused to discover how she had haunted his thoughts.

Now she was here before him and, sensitive to her every feeling, James realised that she was very nervous. He took her hand and smiled straight into her eyes. It was a smile for her alone, conspiratorial and full of shared amusement. The room took a collective breath.

‘You dim the candlelight, Lady Carberry.’ His voice was low, but not too low for those about them to miss his words. ‘It is a great pleasure to see you again. May I beg the honour of a dance with you later?’

In silence Alicia handed him her dance card. Their fingers touched, and a quiver of awareness shot right through her. Her heart was beating suffocatingly in her throat. James scribbled his monogram against one of the dances and handed the card back to her. Their audience watched. Alicia made an effort to speak. She knew she had to do it, but found it was one of the most difficult things ever to confront her.

‘Lord Mullineaux.’ It came out a little huskily, but better than she had hoped. ‘Welcome back to London.’

He gave her another smile which increased her pulse rate several notches further, then Charles Oxley was stepping forward to shake his hand and second Alicia’s welcome. The noise level rose again as several people who had been holding back now came forward to greet James.
Soon he was at the centre of a circle of well-wishers and Alicia was able to slip away unnoticed.

She found that she was shaking. The whole encounter had been so short, but had affected her so profoundly. Aware that there were still plenty of people watching her, she turned round and found Christopher Westwood at her elbow. He was looking absolutely furious. He took Alicia’s arm in an iron grip and practically dragged her behind a nearby group of statuary.

‘Well, I don’t suppose many people can be in any doubt about your relationship with Mullineaux now, Alicia!’

Alicia shook him off, careless of the watchers. ‘Oh, don’t be absurd, Christopher! Would you have had him cut me dead? Mullineaux always was outrageous in his compliments. I am sure nobody but you thought it odd.’

Westwood was flushed with anger. ‘Really? I can assure you that everyone thought it most particular! No one has any doubts now that you are Mullineaux’s mistress! I suppose it was beyond either of you to try for a little discretion!’

There was a frozen silence, more effective than any words would have been. Westwood realised he had gone far too far. He started to splutter an apology, but Alicia cut him off.

‘Would you escort me back to the Countess of Kilgaren, please, Christopher? I feel sure that I shall find more congenial company elsewhere. Leaving aside my own feelings on what you have said, you have now single-handedly given the gossip-mongers plenty more food for thought. I congratulate you!’

She set off across the ballroom without waiting for a reply so that Westwood was forced to hurry to catch up with her. Once out on the floor in full view of the assembled throng, he was prevented from saying anything further by the risk of drawing even more attention to them, and spent the journey to Caroline’s side in red-faced, tight-lipped confusion.

Around the room the fans were waving and feathers nodding as the matrons exchanged opinions. The evening was far exceeding expectation, and it had only just started. There was the Marquis of Mullineaux, as arrogantly attractive as ever. There was Alicia Carberry, extravagantly beautiful, who seemed to have overcome the dreadful scandal of their parting and been reinstated in his affections. There was the conspicuous opulence of the huge emerald at Alicia’s throat—vulgar, some said, but enough to draw the fortune-hunters in droves. Finally there
was Christopher Westwood, deep in the throes of a jealous passion and unable to hide it. What an entertainment!

The music was striking up. The crowd around James had hardly diminished at all, although some were now drifting away as the dancing started. As well as old acquaintances, he was now surrounded by people he had never met before who were taking advantage of the informality of the occasion to introduce themselves. Chief amongst these was Lady Corinna Dawe, a dark beauty married to a complaisant husband, whose love affairs since her marriage had titillated the whole Town. She was standing very close to James, one little white hand on his arm to claim his attention, all melting doe eyes and lustrous black hair. Lady Dawe leant closer to give him the full benefit of her voluptuous figure, and Alicia, watching from across the floor, suddenly decided that she disliked her very much indeed.

Charles Oxley came up to claim Alicia for the first dance and Westwood, who had been dithering beside her in agonised silence, went off in a huff.

‘I say, Alicia, I’d almost forgotten what a capital fellow James Mullineaux is!’ Oxley was full of the enthusiasm of relief that all had gone so well. ‘Corinna Dawe certainly finds him to her taste!’

He chuckled, watching as Lady Corinna artfully inveigled James into the set that was forming. ‘I’ll wager that it won’t be long before those two come to some mutually agreeable arrangement! Lady Corinna is not one to let the grass grow under her feet when she sees something she wants, and James always did have an eye for the prettiest faces!’

Alicia felt sick. James certainly appeared to be enjoying Lady Corinna’s company, his dark head bent attentively to hers, a smile of genuine amusement on his lips. Well, the scandal-mongers had plenty to muse on now! It would be most piquant to imagine that a current and potential mistress of the Marquis of Mullineaux were both at the same ball!

‘I don’t think I will take your bet, Charles,’ Alicia said, trying hard to keep all evidence of her true feelings from her voice. ‘Lady Corinna is said to be irresistible when she decides she wants something—or someone—and Lord Mullineaux, as you say, has hardly been known for his inclination to resist beautiful women in the past! They deserve each other!’

Oxley was not a sensitive soul, but the waspishness of this reply penetrated even his slow brain. Giving Alicia a thoughtful look, he
realised that this was perhaps not the most tactful of topics to broach with her and turned the subject to less controversial matters.

Alicia was glad when the dance came to an end. The initial purpose of the evening achieved, she realised that she was not enjoying herself at all and would have given much to retire from the ball. Knowing the speculation this would inevitably engender, however, she also realised with resignation that she was forced to carry on as though she were having a good time. The prospect of the whole Season suddenly opened up before her. Having got over the difficulty of meeting her again, James could now ignore her and concentrate on pursuing Lady Corinna, or indeed a whole succession of willing partners. At the same time he could be weighing up the merits of some youthful bride, and then what price the confidences of Monks Dacorum? It was as though it had never been. And Christopher Westwood would be pestering her with unwanted attentions—the whole thing would be intolerably tiresome.

Marcus Kilgaren came up to claim the next dance and needed only one look at Alicia’s face to realise which topics of conversation were out of bounds. At the end of the dance he steered her unobtrusively towards Caroline, who was conversing with Perry Renwick, and for a while at least Alicia had the balm of their companionship. Her dance card was full, however, and she could not hide away for long. Peter Weston was her partner for the following set of country dances and by the end of that her usual coterie of admirers was re-forming, its ranks swelled by several gazetted fortune-hunters drawn by the dazzling lure of the green star.

James, meanwhile, had temporarily shaken off the attentions of the predatory Lady Dawe and was confusing the gossips even more by blamelessly leading out a series of starry-eyed debutantes. Returning the latest of these, the youthfully pretty Miss Osborne, to her beaming mama, James handed her over with a charming word of thanks and turned to scan the ballroom. A moment later, Marcus Kilgaren, his hands full of refreshments, collided with his old friend as James stopped dead in front of him.

‘How well does Alicia know that fellow?’ James demanded without preamble, a heavy frown marring his brow. Marcus followed his gaze to where Alicia was waltzing in the arms of a man in striking scarlet regimentals—a man whose very attitude and manner towards her indicated intimacy.

‘Patrick Wickford? He’s been paying half-hearted court to Alicia for years and getting nowhere,’ Marcus observed. ‘No doubt the sight of
the green star made him feel it was worth his while to try again,’ he added, with customary cynicism.

James was looking grim. ‘I came across him in Dublin. He’s got a very unsavoury reputation. His pockets are to let and he’s been hanging out for a rich wife, but he’s quite prepared to pass the waiting time in the pursuit of other women.’

‘Well, perhaps Wickford has cast Alicia in the role of rich wife,’ Marcus commented thoughtfully, ‘although Alicia’s no fool and I should say that she can take care of herself! Anyway,’ he added pointedly, ‘what business is it of yours, James?’ He looked down at the disintegrating ice cream in his hands. ‘I must get this ice to Caro before it melts completely! I’ll settle for lemonade next time, in case you delay me again!’

So saying, he left James still glaring in the direction of Alicia and the dashing Captain.

Alicia, much to her own surprise, was finding solace in Captain Wickford’s attentions. He was very handsome in a rugged way and the piercing blue of those eyes rested on her in a manner so blatantly admiring that it was difficult to resist. Soon after she had been widowed he had paid her very marked attention, but she had never deluded herself that his feelings ran any deeper than the bottom of her purse. She had repelled him then with the cool charm that had thwarted so many potential suitors and he had taken his dismissal with good humour. He had been surprised to find her so receptive to his advances now, but had been quick to define the cause. No matter if it was James Mullineaux’s presence which caused her to smile so sweetly on him—he might be able to benefit from it.

Since James was leading Lady Corinna into supper, Alicia graciously accepted Captain Wickford’s invitation to join him and shortly found herself seated with him in an intimate corner tucked away from the crowds. Her attention was drawn repeatedly across the room, where Lady Corinna’s tinkling laugh rang out often and she could be seen hanging on James’s every word. Two impressionable young ladies, hidden from Alicia by an intervening pillar, were also discussing the Marquis and his fair companion, and Alicia found herself eavesdropping shamelessly.

‘Is he not so handsome you could swoon?’ sighed one, whose languishing looks in James’s direction had so far been ignored. ‘Louisa Osborne danced with him, and says that he is
devastating
, but disappointingly quite proper in his behaviour. Although,’ she added, with a
touch of anxiety, ‘Mama did warn me that he has a shocking reputation!’

‘Oh, he has!’ murmured her friend, with a fair attempt at sophistication. ‘He is rumoured to be very dangerous! But I doubt that that will deter Lady Dawe—she has quite a reputation herself!’

‘Camilla! Don’t let your mama hear you say so! You know how she dislikes us even referring to ladies of that type! Lady Dawe is very beautiful, though, isn’t she?’ the first young lady added, with a wistful note in her voice.

Camilla was evidently more discerning. ‘I consider her to be rather overblown,’ was her damning response. ‘All very well if one cares for that sort of thing, I suppose, but I would have had more respect for Mullineaux’s taste had he fixed his affection with Lady Carberry. She is truly beautiful.’

‘Oh, yes, but so cold! They say she has broken many hearts and cares not for anyone! Though in that dress,’ the first young lady said hesitantly, ‘well, perhaps she has decided to change her style! At any rate, you know there can be no affection between the two of them after what she did! It was the most appalling scandal at the time, so my mama tells me! Why, did you know…?’ Her voice sank confidingly low, and Alicia, losing the thread of her eavesdropping, realised that Patrick Wickford was watching her with some amusement.