No Choice but Surrender (17 page)

It seemed hours before she wore herself out. Eventually she lay back against the pillows, but still there was a stray sniffle or two as she felt herself, now bone tired, drift off into the void of a dreamless sleep. There was a point during the night when she felt herself being picked up and tenderly placed underneath the counterpane, yet in her state she'd not been sure if it was Avenel, who so gently swept the hair from her aching forehead, or Vivie, who had finally returned to put her mistress to bed.

"I cannot!" she said after several minutes of arguing. She looked around the taffeta bedroom at the mountains of dresses that had arrived that morning. It was the day of the ball, and the entire house was buzzing with last-minute preparations for the notables who would arrive that evening. Earlier there had been a knock at the door, and then footman after footman had entered bearing large trunks that held the exquisite gowns that were now spread over every available piece of furniture in the room. Vivie's eyes had become as round as saucers when she opened the trunks.

"
Ici
!
Ma demoiselle!
Ici
!"
She had pulled out a dark green serge riding habit with black embroidery around the cuffs and hemline of the coat.
Next had come several round gowns of cotton sateen, and then several more of silk lutestring.
But when Vivie pulled out a gold ball gown with a gleaming bronze-embroidered stomacher, Brienne had to voice her objections.

"This is madness! Vivie, you must put these back! I am sure they belong to Lady Venetia, or perhaps Lady Carlotta or Lady Anne. Nonetheless, whoever they belong to will be enormously angered to see that I have opened up the boxes."

"Mais
non
, ma demoiselle!
This is not so!" Vivie had cried, still digging farther into a deep trunk.

"Hew do we know it isn't Lady Venetia's trousseau? Perhaps Avenel has asked her to marry him, and—"

"His eyes are for you, my lady. That other one"—Vivie made a moue of her small mouth—"she is only for show."

"Please put them back!" But by then it was too late. It seemed that all the dresses had been unpacked in an impossibly short amount of time. Vivie began her persuasions.

"You must try one on,
ma demoiselle!
See this?" The little maid held up a powder blue pair of satin stays. Brienne nodded dumbly, her eyes fixed on the exquisite workmanship of the piece.
"Made by Cosins!
Think of it,
ma demoiselle!
The finest staymaker in
all the
world has made this! Are you not curious?" Vivie went over to the gold ball gown. She held the dress to Brienne and made a display. "Come, you must want to know what this will feel like against your skin! You must!"

"Well," Brienne said as she indecisively bit her lower lip, "perhaps just one . . ."

Vivie was all smiles as she laid out a fine batiste sleeveless shift edged in French lace. She placed the blue satin stays alongside it, but Brienne put her foot down. "I cannot try on the underthings. I cannot, and I will not!"

"Oui!
Oui!
Then you must try on the dress! When you see how well it fits, then you will know that what I say is correct!" Vivie unhooked the beautiful gown and helped her out of her brown worsted. Pulling the yards upon yards of wonderful silk over her head, Brienne felt transformed even before she had the dress fully on. Vivie fussed and fitted, pinning the stomacher in place perfectly over Brienne's old off-white linen stays.

"There!" the French maid cried when she had finally dressed her. "You are a vision. He will not be able to take his eyes off you!"

Brienne moved to the pier glass that faced the fireplace. Slowly she turned around, watching every swirl and sway of the expensive fabric. The silk was as soft as a kitten's fur against her bare shoulders, and when she moved she heard an exquisite rustle near her feet. The gown fit so well, it was as if every curve of her body had been painstakingly measured and remeasured. She laughed out loud, feeling almost childlike in her awe of herself.

"I shudder to think what Lady Venetia would say about my wearing her gown!" Brienne spun around in it before the mirror once more and watched how pink her cheeks became and how clearly her eyes sparkled. She laughed again, turning to Vivie.

But Vivie was now facing away from her and looking toward the doorway. There was a slight smile on the servant's lips, and Vivie did not appear to be afraid. But Brienne felt her heart skip several beats when she heard the steady knock on her door.

"Do not open it!" She looked around the room for a place to hide. But it was a futile exercise, for immediately the door opened, and Avenel stood in the threshold.

" 'Twas
a joyful sound to hear, little one. Was it laughter I heard? For if it was, it was well worth the expense." He wandered into the room and circled her, taking in every angle of the dress to where it skimmed the top of her bosom and pinched in her waist then fell in shimmering folds to the floor.

"I—I do not know what to say . . .," Brienne stammered; her face showed the first effects of a long, painful blush.

"You need not say anything. Just let me hear you laugh." He decided to watch her from the comfort of the settee and dwarfed the piece with his large frame.

"Surely Lady Venetia will not find this a laughing matter." Brienne folded her arms modestly across her chest and wished he would go so she could change back into her own clothes.

"Ma demoiselle
will not believe me when I tell her!" Vivie turned to Brienne. "I said the Monsieur was bringing back a surprise from London, did I not, my lady?"

"I—I thought the surprise was Rose, and then too, the houseguests." Brienne pulled the bed-curtains to and then stood behind them to undress. She reappeared in her brown worsted and placed the precious gold gown back in the trunk whence it came. "But it doesn't matter," she said as she carefully packed the dress away. "If you've gotten these dresses for me, I'm afraid I cannot accept them. I haven't any coins to pay for them, as you well know."

It could be said that I've already been paid. You're the one who insists I am keeping something that belongs to you." Avenel seemed amused, and he sat back comfortably.
Too comfortably,
she thought,
for being in a lady's bedchamber.

"The cost of that comb could never cover these expenses."

"What do you know of the comb's true value?"

"I know enough." She shuddered softly, thinking back to another time.

"Then you may consider the dresses a loan, for you will need one to wear tonight."

"I'm not going tonight." Brienne got down on her knees and began repacking the green riding habit.

"You will be there." He leaned back in the settee
and ,
closed his eyes complacently.

"I'm afraid I'll be incapacitated by the same illness that has been plaguing me these past few evenings." Brienne ignored him, enjoying the rich folds of a mint green cotton sateen polonaise. There was a pink one, too, much finer than her old one. Regrettably she began to pack that away as well.

"I've been lenient with you these past few evenings, wild- flower. But you are going tonight, and that is my final word." Avenel's words were full of arrogance; her refusals didn't even make him open his eyes.

"I will not see Rose again. I will not subject either of us to that strain." Brienne checked the anger rising in her voice.

"Rose expects to see you. She will not be upset."

"Then I would be upset. I am not going."

"You are going." His eyes flew open, and he got up off the settee.

"I am not," she replied, setting her jaw.

"Vivie, please leave us," Avenel commanded. The loyal maid complied; Brienne inwardly cursed her retreating back.

"So how are you going to force me into obedience this time, pray tell?" She stood and threw a quilted satin petticoat into the trunk, refusing to be intimidated by Avenel. "Are you planning to chase me around the room until I agree? Or will you be more subtle and merely rip off my garments one by one until I comply?"

"Ah, I think the latter would be a pleasure." His answer was low and soft, but the overriding anger in his tone made Brienne flinch almost as if he'd shouted at her.

"The perfect answer from a heathen."
Vehemently she jammed another petticoat into the trunk.

"Stop packing," he growled.

Her taunts had made him furious, but she didn't care. Feeling reckless, she took several shifts from the bed and strode back to the trunks.

"I said stop packing!" He grabbed her wrist and made her halt.

"I'm not going to keep these gowns."

"Yes, you are."

"And why is that?" She tried to twist free from his grasp.

"You'll accept them because I want you to! And for the same reason, you'll go to my ball.
Because I desire it!"

"You
desire it? But I shall never do anything for you willingly. Not sleep in your bed, nor attend your ball!" She looked up, meaning to give him a belittling glance, but instead her face became etched with dismay. He towered over her, his arms crossed tightly over the great expanse of his chest. His face bore a grim, sardonic smile.

"There are certain activities for which I require your cooperation. However, concerning this ball, my pleasure will not be substantially increased by your desire to oblige me. Therefore, I say you are going. Tonight your feelings about the ball mean nothing."

"Why is my presence necessary? For the past few days all your guests seemed to enjoy talking about is Rose's shabby little cousin from America. I've become a novelty for them. But I daresay, by now their amusement has worn off." She hid the humiliation in her voice beneath a thick coat of vengeance.

"I'd rather they talked about you than wondered about you. If you're not at the ball, there will be speculation.
That I prefer not to see.
Do you understand me, little one?"

He watched her closely, but she just shrugged.

"Do you?" he repeated, his tone husky and ominous.

But instead of heeding the warning in his voice, she merely turned her back to him, proving her unwillingness to comply. This time, she vowed, she would not give in. She would not see Rose again, or his precious guests.

Suddenly his hand twisted through her hair. Her pins fell to die carpet like raindrops, and although he didn't hurt her, he forced her to face him.

_:
"Perhaps my guests can be put off by that cool, quiet demeanor of yours, but I am not so easily thwarted." Releasing her tresses, he wrapped his arm around her waist. "You, my beautiful creature, are going to my ball, even if I have to dress you myself."

Her fury rose to a fever pitch. She ground her small, delicate fists against his chest in an effort to push him away, but he put his other hand around her waist and pulled her so close to him, she couldn't move her arms.

"God, why must you torment me so?" she said harshly, turning her face away.

"All I want is your compliance. All I want is a docile woman who will cooperate. But you fight me at every turn!"

"I don't want to go to your infernal ball. I want to leave!"

"You will leave when I want you to leave." He pulled her head up to face him.

"You despot!" she cried out. Her unbound auburn locks shimmered as she shook her head. "Why can't you see that you cannot treat me like this?"

Her accusation only served to raise his ire further. "What I am is of no concern to you. All I want is your answer. Will you come to the ball?"

"Yes! Yes! I'll go to your ball!" She smiled vengefully. "Go ahead and force me into one of the dresses you bought for me! But just know that when you come to pick me up, you'll have to drag me downstairs like a truant child! I'll kick and I'll scream! See if that doesn't give your precious guests something to wag their tongues about!" Her eyes sparkled with rebellion.

But soon she widened them in shock as Avenel violently pulled her to the bed. He sat on the edge among the billowing silk and satin gowns and whispered through clenched teeth, "Like a truant child, eh? And what does one do to a truant child, Brienne?
A child who will not obey?"
Although she struggled, he easily rolled her onto his knees and placed her in a prone position. An iron hand held her down while another controlled her flailing limbs.