Tainted Bride (4 page)

He shrugged. “Most people are not paying any attention to anything which does not relate directly to them. I think you have little to worry about here in London. You will find almost everyone is so self-involved they will barely see your face.”

“You noticed.”

“Ah yes, well, I’m one of the few people in London who acknowledges the fact that my life is terribly dull. Therefore, I spend all my time analyzing other people. Really it is an absurd vocation and I’m terribly ashamed.” He didn’t look at all ashamed. In fact, his eyes were alight with glee.

“I do not believe you.” She giggled.

“Perhaps my interest in you is unique.”

“I’m not certain I believe that either, but it is kind, so I’ll accept the answer and say, thank you.”

After a short walk, they returned to the picnic.

* * * *

The carriage rumbled along the road back to Collington House. Horses, carts and people going about their days filled the cab with noise, but Daphne’s voice cut through. “Mr. Wheel might be an excellent catch. He comes from a well-respected family. His father made a fortune in shipping and he has improved the family fortune with his new ideas. Since your family is also in shipping it would be a fine match. I would approve of you seeing more of him, if you wish.”

The carriage jerked and pulled around a corner. Sophia grabbed for purchase on the cushion. Thomas Wheel had a nice smile and easy manner. However, he was tall and broad and could overpower her easily. She clutched the seat tighter to keep any shake from her voice. “He’s nice, I suppose.”

Daphne raised one eyebrow. “You do not like him. Most women find him quite charming. He holds no title, but neither do you.”

“He is charming and I really don’t care about titles, Aunt. I’m sure he is a wonderful catch.”

Aunt Daphne crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She sat straight as an arrow even as the carriage took another sharp turn. “Indeed, he is.”

* * * *

Perched on the edge of Sophia’s bed, Aunt Daphne inspected as Marie pulled out dress after dress from the wardrobe. With each offering, she shook her head and waved the item away. “These frocks may be fine in the wilds of the colonies, but they will never do in real society. The Watlington ball is in a few days and none of your dresses will do.”

“Well, they are all I have, aunt.” Sophia kept her tone even. “You know the United States is no longer considered colonies of England?”

Daphne waved a dismissal. “We shall go immediately to Madam Michard and see what can be done with the greatest haste. You will need a full wardrobe for the season, but perhaps we can get a gown or two rushed so you have something for the Watlington’s. Then we must attend Fallon’s, as well. The daughter is making her debut and it will be the event of the season.”

A mere hour later, they were ensconced in Madam Michard’s shop with yards of material draped before Sophia.

The proprietress had squeezed her curvaceous figure into a satin gown of red with black lace and the frock barely contained her. Lace strained at both her bust and hip but eased at her minimal waist.

Madam insisted the new French style, worn without a corset, was the only possible style to do the young miss’s figure justice.

However, Daphne insisted a light corset would be worn at all times. She wouldn’t have her niece traipsing around in the nude. The dress was revealing enough.

Doing away with tight corsets in favor of the light ones sounded rather wonderful. She tried on a pale green dress with a low neckline. The satin fell straight down from just below her breasts. Dark green ribbons hung in the same line and swayed with every move. The outline of her body was alluringly visible. She flushed with pleasure at the idea of going to a ball in such a gown.

Either Lady Daphne was not as old fashioned as she pretended to be, or she was impatient to unload Sophia before the season was out.

Madam Michard smoothed her dark hair and smiled in the mirror over Sophia’s shoulder. Her thick French accent warmed her words. “Do you approve of the style?”

Sophia admired herself in the glass. “It’s so beautiful. I have never worn a gown so stunning. I fear I can’t possibly do it justice.”

“It will do.” Lady Collington told Madam Michard.

Madam Michard stood behind Sophia and met her gaze in the mirror. “You should look harder into the glass, mademoiselle. You would see the dress pales in comparison to the wearer.”

Being attractive had only brought sorrow to Sophia’s life. Still, it was a lovely compliment and the dress gave her confidence that she could get through her season in London.

Madam Michard suggested other colors of fabric and ribbon that would suit.

They ordered at least a dozen dresses and scheduled three for delivery the next day. It was a stroke of luck those three had just been finished as samples of the new style and needed only minor alterations. Madam Michard was probably paid handsomely to have the gowns ready with such unprecedented speed.

* * * *

Sophia was gowned, coifed and ready to leave for the Watlington ball. She barely recognized the woman staring back from the mirror. She wore the pale green she had modeled in the shop and her hair was intricately curled and braided with green ribbons and pearls twined throughout. Her color was high with the excitement of her first London ball and even if she were the only one to notice, she would say, she looked rather pretty.

Mr. Wheel had called that morning and agreed to come to the ball. She was happy he had agreed, but only her vanity enjoyed the attention of a handsome admirer. She was flattered by his consideration and she liked him, but he didn’t make her heart flutter or her stomach tighten in the way Elinor described. Perhaps that kind of infatuation would never happen to her. Just as well.

As Sophia descended the staircase, Daphne beamed up from the bottom. “You are going to be a diamond of the first water this season, Sophia.”

“Do you think so?”

“Mark my words. No man will be able to resist. You will have an offer of marriage before the month is out. We can only hope it is the right offer.”

“Yes, Aunt Daphne.” She was careful to keep her eyes downcast as she quietly accepted her wrap from Wells, the butler.

They arrived at the ball twenty minutes later in a crush of carriages.

The Watlington butler announced, “Lady Daphne Collington, the Dowager Countess of Grafton and her niece, Miss Sophia Braighton,”

The room quieted as they descended into the ballroom, down a grand staircase. At eye level from the top of the steps hung a crystal chandelier as big as most parlors. She forced her mouth closed to keep from gaping at it.

“Do not stare, girl. If our hostess catches you looking at it, she will bore you for several hours with stories of where each and every crystal came from and how long it takes to light the hideous thing,” Daphne’s lips barely moved as she gave the warning. She patted the front of her silver hair though not one strand was out of place.

“I have never seen anything like it.” Glairing light poured from the oversized crystal eyesore. It filled the entire ceiling and stretched as tall as the roof of her Philadelphia home. A very tall man would have been able to touch the lowest crystal. It was impossible not to stare at the thing even though it hurt her eyes to do so.

“Of course not. How could there be more than one of those monstrosities in the world? It’s as if one took a horse and stuffed him into the upstairs parlor. It may be a beautiful horse, but once it’s in the parlor, it’s just a great beast that no one can take their eyes from.”

Sophia giggled behind her hand and followed Daphne to meet their host and hostess. The Earl of Watlington and his wife were both rotund in the extreme, but pleasant enough. They smiled happily and the earl kissed Sophia’s gloved hand.

Daphne walked over to a clutch of women sitting on one side of the room.

Sophia joined Elinor and Dory on the other side of the ballroom.

Elinor’s pale blue dress set off the color of her eyes and enhanced her milky skin. “No one will ask me to dance. No one will even talk to me.”

“I forbid you to cry.” Dory spoke through a grin and tugged on the lace sleeve of her lavender gown. Her golden hair hung in perfect ringlets and her eyes sparkled devilishly.

Elinor pouted. “Dory already has several dances filled and I have none. None.”

“Have you seen Mr. Wheel?” Sophia searched the room.

Dory’s eyes widened. “Mr. Wheel? You are not even in London a full week. Do not tell me you have set your cap for Thomas Wheel already. He is on the top of the mammas’ eligible bachelor list.”

“No. Not for me. For Elinor.”

Elinor shrieked, “I do not want to marry Mr. Wheel. I don’t even know him well. I met him on only two occasions and while he was respectable, he is not for me. I could never like him enough to marry him. He is always so clever and everyone knows his interests lie in music and business. He would suit Dory much better, but of course, he’s untitled. The countess would never approve.”

Sophia put up a hand. “You are not going to marry him. For goodness sake, Elinor. He will simply dance with you and that will make other men know it is all right to dance with you. Soon this entire thing will start to go away.”

A young man with black hair and sweat dappling his fore head stopped and asked Dory for a spot on her dance card.

She waved her matching lavender fan over the lower part of her face and batted her eyes. It was an amazing transformation. The white lace around her color fluttered with the fanning.

As soon as the man bowed and walked away, Dory’s smile turned genuine. “That is brilliant, Sophia. But how do you intend to get him to dance with her? Besides, he may not even come to this ball. He and his friends rarely come to these things. They do not like to be pushed around by all the mothers who want to marry off their darling daughters.”

Sophia giggled. “Don’t say it so derisively, Dory. The three of us are those very daughters.”

Dory laughed also. “I know, but it does not make it less true. How do you know he will come?”

“I asked him to and he said he would.”

“He will not come.” Elinor brushed a pale strand from her face.

“Of course he will,” Sophia said.

“No, he won’t.” Now she was pouting.

“He has just arrived.” Dory nodded at the grand stairs.

The butler introduced Thomas and the room erupted with chatter so loud she could not hear the name of the man next to him. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His hair resembled dark gold and that silly chandelier’s light sent shimmers of firelight through his unruly waves. Both men wore black evening dress with simple white cravats.

Her stomach flip-flopped, her arms prickled with goose bumps and she had trouble catching her breath. “Who is that with him?”

Dory grinned wickedly and spoke in a whisper. “That is Lord Daniel Fallon, The Earl of Marlton.”

“I cannot believe I let you talk me into attending this ridiculous ball, with that ridiculous chandelier.” The Earl of Marlton blistered at Thomas.

Thomas smirked. “Don’t point at the thing. We’ll end up spending the entire night fending off stories of crystals from Austria. I have other plans for this evening.”

“Yes, so you said, a goddess with a gift for humor. So, where is this icon of beauty and merriment? What did you say she does, juggle? Most unladylike.”

“She is an excellent mimic, as I’m sure you remember. She is there.” Thomas nodded toward the right. “Standing with Lady Dorothea and Elinor Burkenstock.”

“The chit who was caught with Michael?”

“Indeed.”

He nearly stopped in his tracks and forced his feet forward before anyone took notice of his awe. She was tall for a woman, with hair so dark it looked black, except the candlelight from the grotesque chandelier set off shimmers of red and gold. Her skin was like honeyed cream.

Completely out of sorts and out of character, Daniel clung to control before he made a fool of himself.

Thomas bowed to the ladies. “May I present Daniel Fallon, The Earl of Marlton. Marlton, I believe you know Miss Burkenstock and Lady Dorothea. This is Miss Sophia Braighton from America.

Daniel bowed, his heart racing. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Braighton.”

Her gown revealed the swell of perfect round breasts as she curtsied. “My lord. It’s nice to meet you.”

“My friend has spoken of nothing else since meeting you.” He ached to touch her and discover if her skin was as soft as it appeared.

“I’m sure he has exaggerated.” She would not meet his gaze, the floor and her shoes seeming more interesting.

Daniel wanted to continue the conversation, but she excused herself and pulled Thomas aside. The two spoke in hushed whispers. Beating his lifelong friend to a pulp was not out of the question. He clenched his hands into tight fists, battle ready.

Thomas frowned, but then adjusted his face to a gentlemanly smile and bowed before, of all people, Elinor Burkenstock. He asked the girl to dance. She accepted politely and the two swept off to join the other dancers while the crowd whispered and twittered. No doubt over how the popular and wealthy Thomas Wheel had chosen his first dance partner of the evening, a girl ensconced in scandal.

Daniel hated these events. However, there was some symmetry in one of them cleaning up Michael’s mess.

In spite of her American accent, her whisper near his ear set him on fire. “Will you also dance with my friend, my lord?”

He looked into eyes, golden like a tigress’s. “Would that please you, Miss Braighton?”

“It…It would please me very much.” Her voice was musical, low and warm.

At least he wasn’t the only one out of sorts. His palms itched to wrap her up and calm every worry until she was pliant in his arms. “Then I shall claim the next dance, if you will agree to add me to your dance card this evening.”

She nodded and cast her eyes down depriving him of her gaze.

He ached to touch the rosy flesh and see if it was as warm and soft as it looked. He knew he was wearing a stupid grin. Waiting to hold her for the dance would be the death of him. Desperate to cover his ridiculous desire for the American, he turned toward Lady Dorothea. “Lady Dorothea. I have not seen you in years. You are obviously well. How is your brother?”