Chapter Twenty-Eight
B rilliance was glad she’d changed, if for no other reason than that pantaloons were the most daring and liberating thing she had ever worn. Why, they practically showed the shape of her legs as the silk clung to her, brushed her skin, and moved as she did.
In Vincent’s carriage, she even crossed her legs and sat back comfortably, hiding her posture under her thick wool cloak. When they arrived, the area of St. James’s Street was congested with carriages of guests heading for the masquerade.
“Shall we walk?” Brilliance offered. Thus, they departed their warm conveyance to stroll the final yards down St. James’s Place to the classically inspired home of the Spencer family.
She was free to match her escort’s stride as they approached the arches of the ground-floor facade, with her maid trailing behind. Given the time of year, it was unlikely they would get to enjoy the terrace that overlooked Green Park on the building’s other side. Yet knowing the luxurious interior that awaited, Brilliance didn’t mind.
Upon entering under the arched doorway and through the large paned door, they left Belinda with the other maids in one of the downstairs rooms set aside for them and deposited their coats in another. Brilliance appreciated the chairs lining two walls as she took a vacant seat beside another young lady and changed from her outdoor boots to her purple satin slippers.
“Isn’t this one of the most magnificent houses in London?” she remarked when they finally entered the Palm Room, through which all the guests were filtered in order that they could ooh and ahh . Carved and painted symbols of fertility and prosperity were everywhere, with gild palm leaves rounding the columns and adorning the walls. A domed ceiling and half-vaulted alcoves were also gilded, and the uppermost frieze seemed to be moving with golden griffins, the Spencer family’s heraldic supporter. In a word, breathtaking!
“I am surprised your family doesn’t have a mansion like this,” Vincent said.
Brilliance considered. “I do not know about my great-grandfather, but I know my grandfather and my own dear papa have no wish to be burdened with the upkeep. Both prefer to put their time and money into their country properties. Regardless, this is my third time inside Lord and Lady Spencer’s splendid home, and I feel as thrilled as the first. In my opinion, the gilding and the carvings are unrivaled.”
“You do seem sparkish tonight,” he remarked as they joined other guests moving toward the stone cantilever staircase, “and we haven’t even reached the ballroom.”
Brilliance shuffled her feet on the white Italian marble. “I cannot wait to try dancing in this costume.”
“I dread dancing in these shoes,” Vincent confessed, as they climbed the stairs under the vaulted ceiling beside white flattened ionic pilasters festooned with white plaster garlands.
His words only made her smile more broadly. “If Herr Bach could wear them his entire adult life, then you can manage for a single evening.”
“His probably fit him,” Vincent grumbled.
Since they were a little late, the musicians had already begun to play. On Vincent’s arm, Brilliance entered the largest of the home’s rooms, the Great Room, heavily scented with the guests’ perfume and the usual aroma of tobacco.
Crowded with masked and costumed revelers in a constant state of movement, it was impossible to stop and properly admire the red damask wallpaper framed in gilding or even to look up at the three impressive domes making up the ceiling, all of them in green, white, and gold.
Instead, Brilliance managed the barest glance at her environment. Naturally, chandeliers were dripping with crystals, but due to the mystique of the masquerade, only half the candles were lit in each, and the edges of the room were dim except for an occasional sconce. She shivered with excitement.
Vincent tugged her arm so they could make their way around the perimeter. Her gaze landed on females in all manner of fancy dress, from the mundane to the scandalous, seeming risqué as they moved from flickering candle light to the shadows.
“I do not much care for the idea of seeing other women close to you, staring up adoringly, and leaning on you.”
“I shall endeavor to keep all my dance partners at arm’s distance,” Vincent said, surveying the crowd, “if you promise to do the same.”
She nodded. Being there with him was the best night of her life so far, although she could imagine even better ones in the future. If she were to become his wife, they would retire to the same bed. Another shiver ran down her spine. Perhaps even as his fiancée, she could experience the mysteries between a man and a woman.
After all, she wasn’t entirely ignorant as to what was to come. As the youngest of five siblings, she’d heard her share of romantic, even passionate stories, as one by one her sisters fell in love.
Moreover, her parents had eloped to Gretna Green at Christmas. And while her knowledge of geography wasn’t extensive, Brilliance knew that one could not get to Scotland without a few nights spent sleeping at inns. Therefore, they must have had relations, intimate ones at that, before they ever reached the blacksmith’s shop.
She could almost shock herself if she thought too much about it. And then, she spotted Martine and her mother. They were precisely where they had arranged to meet — to the left of the large gilded mirror between the first set of windows overlooking the park.
Her friend was dressed as an Elizabethan princess, Brilliance guessed, by the width of Martine’s gown and the number of pearls on her stomacher. Her mother, Lady Flowers, who was also dressed as though from the Tudor period, was to be both young ladies’ chaperone for the night.
Sharing a mother was Brilliance’s favorite type of chaperone, especially someone else’s mother who wouldn’t truly pay attention to her comings and goings.
After cordial greetings — although Martine’s was less-than-enthusiastic when it came to Lord Hewitt — the musicians signaled the next dance was about to begin. Vincent took her hand.
“Come along, Lady Persia, let us dance.” And he led her into the throng.
“Am I incorrect in thinking Lady Martine was cool toward me?” Vincent asked as they got into position with the other dancers.
Brilliance hated to admit the truth but did so, anyway. “She has nothing against you, my lord. She is only concerned for me. I have told her about Mr. Castern’s perfidy, but Martine is not convinced. And she hopes I am not being led to Fiddlestick’s end.”
She felt him tense. “I assure you that is not the case.”
“I know.” Brilliance squeezed his arm, and then the dance began.
Trying not to miss a step, her head was on a swivel, admiring all the ladies’ costumes. Spotting a goodly number of milkmaids and two Queen Cleopatras, she wondered what Queen Victoria would dress as should she actually come. And then she took in the men.
“You are the only Bach here, I believe,” she told Vincent.
“You are probably correct, although I have seen some other powdered wigs.”
“They might be anyone,” she said. “I certainly cannot tell.” Then she gasped softly. “My apologies, my lord. That was thoughtless of me.”
“Lady Brilliance, I honestly do not care about the quality or authenticity of my costume.” He gave her a good-humored shrug. “If people think me a barrister or the King of France, it is no matter. I came tonight only to be with you and to make sure you have a pleasant evening.”
For some reason, that struck her as the sweetest thing anyone had ever said.
“You have nearly brought me to tears,” she told him. And then she saw a familiar face, dressed as a hornet, which snapped her out of her maudlin emotion.
“Is that Lady Georgiana?” She inclined her head in the hornet’s direction.
Vincent looked to where she indicated. “I believe so. She ought to be careful. Her true waspish disposition is showing.”
Brilliance chuckled. “Then perhaps Ambrose Castern is here dressed as a highwayman.”
When Vincent sobered, she wished she hadn’t teased. In truth, Mr. Castern might be there, and if he was, she would not call him out as she had before. Holding her tongue would be extremely difficult but prudent, nonetheless.
They danced two dances in a row, and no one noticed or cared, not even Lady Flowers. They each found another partner for the next dance, then returned to dance again.
After the fourth dance, Brilliance was breathless. “I am thirsty, Herr Bach. Can we seek out the refreshment room?”
“Certainly.” He tucked her hand under his, while she waved to Lady Flowers yards away in the loud room and mimed drinking.
Receiving a nod of acknowledgment from Martine’s mother, Brilliance let him lead her through to the next room. It was smaller, rounded at one end with more pillars, decorated with green and gold wallpaper and covered in classical people, Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, as well all sorts of objects she knew to be ancient vessels and such.
“A room dedicated to love,” she said, looking at the many cupids and the main painting of Venus. Pointing to it, Brilliance told him, “That is reportedly the first Lady Spencer’s visage.”
“You are prettier,” Vincent said.
Her cheeks warmed. “And I am currently thirstier. If I am not mistaken, this is not the right room.”
Making their way through the giddy crowd of revelers toward the next chamber, she noticed one thing.
“Don’t you think everyone is a little more rambunctious than at a regular gathering?”
“Indeed, you are correct. A costume or a mask gives people leave for their wilder nature to roam freely.”
She saw a man dressed as a pirate pulling a winged fairy by both hands. The female was laughing loudly while being drawn toward a darkened alcove. Another couple were dancing a slow waltz in a corner rather than on the dance floor in the Great Room.
“People who are not being themselves is a little frightening,” she conceded, “yet also strangely refreshing. The freedom is exhilarating, too. Like my pantalettes.”
“Freedom is like your pantalettes?” he asked before sending her a broad grin.
She laughed. “You are so easy to be with. A far cry from the straight-backed pianist who spilled the cherries across your cousin’s rug.”
Vincent was clearly trying not to laugh, but it burst from him.
“What a peevish, sour, hulver-headed churl I was. And you have fixed me.” They found a sumptuous spread of beverages and tasty treats in the blue and gold room that came next. After eating cheese tartlets, small puffs of prawn-filled pastries, and crackers, some topped with minced ham and others with smoked cod, they took a glass of champagne each and left the room.
They went away from the noise, the crowds, and the music along another wing of the house. He took her down the passageway, past one door, and then the next. At last, he grabbed a handle and pushed a door open.
“Blast!” he exclaimed into the pitch blackness and closed it. Still holding her hand, he went farther along to the next door and opened it. “Ah-ha,” he said. “In here, Lady Persia.”
There was a lamp lit, and a piano, too. Somehow, he had found the conservatory.
“What are we doing?” Brilliance asked.
Instead of a stool, there was a bench, and he tugged her down onto it beside him before setting his empty glass on the floor. The length of their thighs pressed against one another’s. She could feel the heat of him through the thin silken fabric of her costume, making her pulse speed up with a delightful pitter-patter of expectation.
Without speaking, Vincent began to play. Brilliance fell silent as the music worked its way inside her soul, expanding within her, filling her with emotions that weren’t always comfortable. Intense joy turned to heartbreaking melancholy and back again. Vincent played for, she estimated, about fifteen minutes before he stopped. The last notes were a complex arrangement, making her feel alternately happy and sad before trailing off with a whimsically thoughtful ending.
“I’ve been working on ‘Essence of Brilliance.’ I cannot seem to finish it, however. I know the longer we are together, the more I shall wish to add to it and change it because I keep learning more about you.”
He put his hand to her chin, tilting her face up and holding her still.
“Lady Brilliance Diamond, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Brilliance began to cry. She didn’t know how the depth of utter happiness snuck up on her or why it brought her to tears instead of laughter.
When he kissed her, she tasted her salty tears along with the champagne and then with relief, she began to laugh.
Unable to keep kissing her, Vincent rested his forehead upon hers as she continued to chuckle.
“I didn’t expect either reaction, but I should have. After all, you are the most unusual, unpredictable, changeable female I have ever known. And you haven’t given me an answer.”
“Oh, Vincent, I thought my answer was obvious.”
“I would not presume anything with you.”
She smiled. “Very well. I am honored to become your wife. We shall have a happy marriage and lots of babies. And you can compose music all day when you’re not in Parliament, or when we’re in the country. I’ll keep our children away while you do, and then you can play for us each evening.”
He started to laugh. “That sounds as though our marriage is all about me. What will you do besides birthing an entire audience of offspring for me?”
Brilliance wished she could think of something spectacular to tell him. Yet she couldn’t. Shrugging, she said, “I hope you won’t quickly tire of a wife who has no particular skill and cannot sketch or paint or play music.” She bit her lip. “Sometime, I shall show you what happens when I try to knit or do needlepoint.”
“I don’t care about any of that. I just want you to be happy and not bored. Maybe you will take to gardening or wood-carving. Who knows?”
Wood-carving!
“Kiss me again, and this time, I shall neither cry nor laugh.”
She set her glass down on the piano, which he promptly retrieved and set on the floor. And while she slid her hands up behind his neck, he put his hands on her back and pulled her close.
Brilliance would vow for the rest of her life that their kiss caused sparks on her lips. She swore they sizzled under his. And the heat of his touch as he caressed her through her layers of silk scorched a trail up and down her back until his hands came around the front of her. Slipping under her tunic, his palms fit perfectly over her breasts.
She moaned softly at his welcome touch.
At the sound, Vincent’s tongue sought access, and she parted her lips to grant it. As his tongue stroked hers, an insistent throbbing began between her legs, even as she pushed her breasts more firmly into his grasp. When he sucked on her tongue, her womanly core seemed to melt.
Gasping against his mouth, she quivered, and her fingers tightened in his hair.
“I want ... I want ...” She couldn’t put into words the swirling sensations making her body tremble. “I am beyond frustrated,” Brilliance whispered against his mouth.
“I know. Believe me, I know.”
“What can be done?” she asked.
And then his thumbs flicked her nipples, and she drew in a desperate breath.
“That’s a start,” she said, her tongue feeling dry. “Continue.”
He did as requested. Under his ministrations, she could scarcely breathe, nor could she credit how sensitive her skin had become, able to feel the silk sliding over it. As her nipples puckered, she squirmed on the hard bench. “I fear I need something more.”
“When we’re married,” he began.
She groaned. “I cannot live in this state of unbearable dissatisfaction until then. I am actually aching.”
“It will fade,” he promised, “if I stop touching you.” And he drew his large warm palms out from under her tunic.
“That makes it worse. My body wants you not only to keep touching me but to put your fingers elsewhere.”
“Dear Brilliance, if I could, I would, but we have been away from the ball for a long time. Besides, anyone who looks at you will know you’ve been kissed to distraction.”
He rose to his feet and did a strange movement, swiveling his hips slightly before shifting from one foot to the other.
“I have some discomfort myself,” he confessed.
“Is it your shoes?” she asked.
Vincent grinned ruefully. “No. The part of me that most wants to connect with a certain part of you has awakened quite fiercely.” He did another swiveling motion. “A man’s arousal is harder to hide.”
She looked from his handsome face to his ... tented breeches, and understanding dawned.
“ Oh!” Brilliance felt her cheeks heat.
“On your feet, my fiancée,” he ordered, handing over her glass that still had some champagne. “Let us toast to our engagement.”
Brilliance could not help sighing. “That is a pretty word. French, I believe.”
He nodded. They each took a sip from the same glass, and then he set it aside.
“We really must return to the ballroom. Lady Flowers and Lady Martine may be looking for you.”
“I do hate to worry them, but I need to stop in the ladies’ retiring room first and make sure I am tidy.”
Again, her cheeks bloomed with color even discussing such a thing. It was easier to kiss Vincent and let him touch her intimately than to talk about the retiring room where there were facilities for passing water. However, he didn’t seem the least bothered.
In two minutes, they parted at the doorway where maids were on hand to assist with anything the female guest needed, even if it was simply making sure her clothing wasn’t in disarray.
While Brilliance studied herself in the looking glass to see if Vincent was correct about appearing to have been kissed, Mrs. Castern came in. Their eyes met in the mirror, and the woman walked directly toward her.
“That is a pretty costume,” she said.
Brilliance turned and took in her appearance. “Thank you. And you look to be a perfect shepherdess.”
“It is an amusing costume,” Mrs. Castern said. “We both have the pantalettes.”
“Yes,” Brilliance agreed. “I love them.” She nearly asked the woman if her husband had, in fact, come as a footpad.
“And what is Vincent this evening?” Mrs. Castern asked, touching a hand to her snowy, white cap while she peered at her own reflection.
Vincent? Brilliance examined the woman’s face. Was she being intentionally forward, or had his name slipped out from their earlier association?
“Lord Hewitt came as Johann Sebastian Bach.”
Mrs. Castern laughed. “Unsurprising. He always had an admiration for Bach, almost as much as he had for Handel.”
“It sounds as though you were friends,” Brilliance guessed. “Was that through your marriage to Mr. Castern?”
The woman stared for a moment of silence. “Didn’t Vincent tell you?”
Mrs. Castern had done it again, and plainly on purpose, too.
“Tell me what?” Brilliance asked, ignoring her impudence.
“That he and I were engaged before I married Ambrose.”
Brilliance didn’t care for the odd swooping sensation in her stomach, nor how the floor seemed to slant. It was unpleasant, as if she were falling from a great height. She didn’t want to lie and say she knew, although she ought to have known.
However, she was suddenly struck by the unsettling notion that she had agreed to marry a man whom she knew little about. And she had done so based on her instincts and her emotions.
Not to mention the way he made her sizzle.
Taking a deep breath, Brilliance gave Mrs. Castern the upper hand. “He did not.”