10. April 27, 1830
10
APRIL 27, 1830
DUKE OF CHELMSFORD’S MANSION
* * *
T ransformed Upper Level Ballroom
Olivia had a problem. She’d memorized all of Alice’s do’s and don’t’s, she’d burned into her brain all of the cautions she’d learnt from her etiquette tutor, and she had a fair mental list started of the most “eligible” men of the ton. After all, if she was going to live a life without love, the best thing she could do would be to ensure she caught a man with the most power and money.
However, that annoying notion of “love?” She was having a damnably difficult time standing still and keeping a serene smile on her face whilst imagining all the naughty things she’d do to Will if she were free to love him. She had to clench her legs together to ease the ache in her quim at the very thought of what he’d do to her in the darkness of night on a bed covered with virginal white, lavender-scented linens and lace-trimmed pillow covers. She’d pull him down to her and spread…” She started at the sound (insistent) of Lady Camilla’s voice accompanied by the subtle rap of the lady’s fan against her wrist.
“Miss Whitcombe, may I present Doctor Charles Fitzgibbons, physician at the Royal Hospital for Seamen at Greenwich?”
At his bow of acknowledgment, Olivia curtsied slightly. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Doctor Fitzgibbons.”
She maintained her perpetual smile, hoping that after several hours, she still looked like a real person and not some fashion doll in a modiste shop. The man before her was appealing in a bland sort of way. However, he did have kind eyes. That was something. He was probably at least sixteen years her senior, but she supposed that really didn’t matter. Perhaps men became less demanding as they entered their dotage. That should count for something.
“Miss Whitcombe, would you honor me with the favor of a dance?” He bowed low again, and she worried he might hurt his back with so much bending up and down.
“It would be my pleasure, Doctor Fitzgibbons.” Since couples were lining up for the dance already, they hurried across the floor. Olivia calculated the complicated set would take at least an hour…an hour in which she wouldn’t have to engage in frivolous conversation. And then perhaps she could escape to the ladies’ retiring room for a few blessed minutes of rest and refreshment.
* * *
The Duchess of Chelmsford placed a hand over her husband’s behind his back…and squeezed, hard, as only she could. At first he grimaced a bit and continued to smile at their guests as they were announced and filed past into the upper floor they’d turned into a vast, temporary ballroom.
Eleanor’s gracious smile never wavered, but she increased the pressure on his hand until he was forced to lean his head close to hers so that she could whisper into his ear. “Did you interfere in those young people’s lives?” she rasped low.
“Of course not,” he started, and then groaned when she ground her nails into the top of his hand.
She skillfully continued conversing with late arriving guests. “Lord Havers, Lady Havers…Please enjoy yourselves this evening. The orchestra will remain until dawn, supper will be served at one, and a breakfast brunch will be served promptly at five. Refreshments will be available all evening from footmen at the edges of the dance floor, as well as in the card area and, of course, the ladies’ retiring room. Now, if you’ll please excuse us, we have to deal with, um, a bit of a set-to below stairs.” She waved a hand dismissively. “A minor contretemps, nothing more.”
With that, she motioned to Lady Alice and her husband Sinjin to move over to take their places in the receiving line. Their good friends, the Earl of Framlingwood and his Countess Cassandra were already assisting with greeting the hundreds of guests who kept arriving in waves.
Alice moved smoothly into place without question, pulling Sinjin along with her. They continued greeting guests as Eleanor pulled Percy into the servants’ passageway between the two sides of the ballroom, which the rest of the year served as a formal dining room at one end and a mammoth drawing room at the other. A grand staircase landing across from a concealed pantry and food service area took up the center space.
Once in the darkened passageway, she pulled him to the side so that no unsuspecting footman fell over them and grasped him by his earlier elaborately tied neckcloth.
“I say, Eleanor. Are you trying to choke me?”
“No, Percy. If I wanted to choke you, and I’m still debating that course of action, you’d already be dead.” She tightened her hold to demonstrate her force of will. “Now, tell me before I do choke you: Did you interfere in the lives of Olivia and Will?”
“No, not really. Well, maybe a little.”
She let him go suddenly and slumped back against the wall. “That explains a lot. Have you noticed at all the level of enthusiasm Olivia’s shown thus far for all the eligible men Lady Camilla and her pack of aristos have introduced to the befuddled young woman?”
“You mean the way she acts like a prize mare who’s not impressed with any of the mediocre studs sent her way?”
“Percy—.” Her Grace dissolved into waves of laughter until tears rolled down her cheeks. “Percy, sometimes, you so surprise me. For someone who’s such a stiff-rumped scion of the ton as well as a Whig for God’s sakes, you have a truly naughty side.” She turned and captured his lips in a kiss so extended and intense, that a footman nearly did fall over them in his haste to deliver more sparkling clean glass tumblers.
After the poor man collected himself, and Percy helped him retrieve some of the glasses that had rolled off his tray, he returned to his wife and hung his head. “I imagine the next question out of your mouth, now that you’re done ravaging me with it, is whether or not Mister Beckford is here tonight.”
“Is he?”
Percy didn’t answer but didn’t lift his head either.
* * *
Will, dressed in a spare uniform belonging to one of the Whitcombe family footmen, had lurked all evening near the dance floor. Boredom had set in quickly, and he’d ended up actually helping with some of the endless carrying of trays of food up from the kitchen in the lower level of the mansion. The cork-brained idea the duke had insisted was the best way to make sure Olivia was happy and safe was for him to stand by throughout the ball and be there if at some point she changed her mind.
Who says “no” to a duke? Will had gone along with Chelmsford’s obviously flawed plan and exactly what he’d feared had set in. He’d glimpsed Olivia dancing in the midst of the throngs of other dancers in various sets. He couldn’t say if she was exactly happy, but he certainly couldn’t offer her anything near what the wealthy and titled men in attendance could.
And then his heart launched into a precarious tattoo. The last interminable set had ended, and Olivia was passing by his vantage point inside the pantry hallway at the exact moment the musicians chose to launch into a waltz. The heat of the crowded event, combined with the energetic, extended dance she’d just finished, sent lavender-scented pheromones pulsing off her body. He had nothing to lose. They’d practiced the waltz amongst a dozen other types of dances when he’d volunteered as a partner. He could do this.
* * *
Olivia was so exhausted from all the forced conversation and dancing, she was ready to give up and seek her bedchamber for the night. Instead, she’d fled after the last set with the kind-eyed doctor to the women’s retiring room to regain some strength and perhaps indulge in a steaming cup of tea.
She was within a few steps of the oasis away from the crowds when a familiar iron grip snatched her away from her mission and through the servant passageway door near the pantry. She huffed out a deep sigh. “Will—what are you doing? Someone will throw you out of the mansion, head-first; your captain will find out; and you’ll lose your job.”
He placed a soft finger across her mouth. “Shhh…the music’s started.”
Without another word, he threaded his arms around hers and clasped her elbows. The music had started slowly, thankfully, for the two of them to become comfortable with the movements. Once the music reached a dizzying pace, she held tight to his strong arms and felt the wind on her face as they circled up and down the servants’ passageway. After a few minutes, a number of serving maids and footmen had stopped to watch, and to allow them as much room as possible.
Everything Olivia had been taught about proper tonnish behavior screamed through her ears until the sound finally died, and all she could hear was the music. All she could feel was Will’s arms around her. All they had was a tiny oblong circle in the tight passageway, but it felt like they were gliding along the actual polished and sanded ballroom floor beyond the walls. However, there was something about being on the servants’ side of the walls that felt right, and being in Will’s arms felt not only right, but perfect. This was where she belonged.
Suddenly, the music ended, Will rushed her back out to the ballroom, and she made her way toward the lady’s retiring room once again, a little giddy from so many dancing turns, she told herself, denying the dizzying effect a mere caress from Will had on her.