Chapter 2
Deimos caught the young lady just as she tripped—on what, he knew not—before she went face-first onto the polished ballroom floor.
He managed to right her quite delicately and send her on her way before she could turn to him, flutter her handkerchief, toss her dark curls, or say anything in particular.
He strode on without a backward glance.
She was the fourth young lady who had tripped this evening. Right in front of him.
“Has something happened in the ton?” he asked his cousins, Perseus and Laertes. “Are all the young ladies no longer fleet of foot? Whatever can be amiss?”
Perseus snorted. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, old boy?”
Laertes was clearly trying to hide a laugh as if he understood the joke, even if Deimos did not.
Deimos narrowed his eyes as they threaded their way through the sumptuously dressed crowd while the tones of a Viennese waltz drifted about them.
“What is there to figure out, except for the fact that their shoes must be made in a terrible fashion? For young ladies do not seem able to walk in a straight line.”
“It is a miracle that they can dance at all with you present,” Laertes said, tugging on his elegant sleeves, causing the jewels in his cufflinks to wink in the candlelight.
“But they do seem to be dancing,” Perseus added merrily, looking out at the dance floor packed with the lords and ladies of the ton.
Deimos did not often come to balls anymore. He did not need to. He was a young rake of the ton. He far preferred to spend his time out in the clubs, at the opera, at the racetracks, entertaining himself with the delights of London’s demimondaine and the milieu of other young bucks.
But his cousins Perseus and Laertes, now happily married men, had been most firm about dragging him to this particular ball. It made him suspicious. They were clearly up to something. And it made him fairly certain that they wanted him to be introduced to some young lady.
He did not wish to be introduced to anyone.
Frankly, he was still clinging on to the fact that he had asked a young lady to marry him recently and she had not agreed. Now, it was true that it hadn’t exactly been the most formal of proposals. He had blurted it out in an extremely stressful moment for all involved.
Sometimes, he wondered if she had truly heard him. But she had not replied. And she had avoided the topic the few times he’d tried to broach it with her. Clearly, she had no wish to think of the unpleasantness of that night, or even the way he’d tried to save her.
He supposed he understood why. Most of his family did not wish to think of the events of that night either, except for the fact that they had dealt with the most insulting and appalling of lords quite handily.
He and his Uncle Leander had devised quite the punishment for the boorish man who had so insulted Alice.
Still, it was best if he avoided balls for some time and spent his nights as young men were often expected to.
“You are the last of our generation of Briarwoods who is unmarried,” Perseus pointed out, “so everyone is obsessed with your marriage prospects.”
“That’s not true,” Deimos countered, stunned. “My sisters, Celia and Emilia, are unmarried, and some of Achilles’s children—”
“Some of Achilles’s children,” Laertes broke in, “are out wandering the world, having their own grand adventures, and are not here in town trying to upkeep jolly old England.”
Deimos scowled, feeling not at all like his usually jovial self. “Frankly, I rather admire them for heading off into parts unknown.”
The truth was that Achilles’s children were not all bound by many of the rules of the ton. They had been adopted and beloved by the family, but many of them, having been children of war, were not interested in the gilded trappings of life in London.
They, no doubt, had the right of things, but Deimos did not wish to leave his family and head out away from them.
He wished to be close. He wished to lead a good life here, surrounded by them. But given the way things were going, perhaps the best thing he could do was hie off.
“Look, they’re taking bets on when you’ll marry at Whites,” said Laertes.
“What?” he yelped.
“It’s true,” Perseus said, grinning. “You know how gentleman with too much coin will bet on anything.”
“I’m not getting married,” he said.
“Well, they all hope you are,” said Laertes, gesturing with a laugh toward the crowd with his square jaw. “Hence, the ladies tripping about you, hoping they shall fall into your arms and become a connubial conquest. It is a miracle you are not buried under fans.”
Perseus winked. “The mamas certainly do seem to be fluttering them.”
“How could they not?” added Laertes. “You’re a prime catch.”
“I’m not a lord,” he pointed out, though he knew he was being obtuse. Briarwoods were, well, Briarwoods. Just about everyone wanted one. Very few could manage it. “I am merely the grandson of a duke.”
Laertes rolled his eyes and swiped a glass of punch from a passing silver tray carried by a pristinely dressed footman in full livery. “Yes, but you have a fortune. And you’re surrounded by influence, so there you have it. They won’t stop until your wed or dead.”
“Now there’s a sentiment,” he drawled back.
Generally, Deimos was a person of exceedingly good spirits.
But much to his surprise, he had felt like grumbling lately.
He supposed it was because, to his surprise, he did quite like Miss Alice Mitchell and had thought she’d take him up on his rather impulsive proposal.
After all, legend of his Uncle Leander’s proposal to his Aunt Mercy was still talked about in hushed tones of awe or, in turn, merry laughter.
He did not know why, but he supposed he’d expected his own situation to go in a similar fashion. It had not.
And he was disappointed. There was nothing else to say.
Worse, she’d largely avoided him.
He couldn’t blame her, but still, it was most annoying that he cared so much. From what he’d thought, when a gentleman wanted to play white knight, one always hoped that the lady in question would throw themselves into the knight’s arms.
Ladies kept trying to throw themselves into his arms, but not the lady he desired. And if she didn’t want him, well, then there was no point in coming to a ball.
“Ah, there she is,” Perseus exclaimed with undue enthusiasm before he coughed, trying to appear as if he hadn’t planned this whole thing.
Laertes cleared his throat and bounced ever so slightly on his dancing shoes, as if he could not wait to watch the events unfold.
Deimos narrowed his eyes, looking for some indication of whoever they had brought him here to see.
Perseus discreetly pointed across the room towards his wife, Muriel, and his other female cousins.
“No,” Deimos breathed. It was Alice.
Alice stood there looking resplendent as she always did, even though her wardrobe was quite modest for a member of the ton. It never mattered. Somehow in her simple ivory frock with naught but pale ribbons in her hair, she managed to look like a galaxy against a night sky.
There was something jovial about her person, though her face was strained these days. He wondered if no one else could see it. Was he the only one?
Underneath her bright smile, he felt that there was something a little bit tense, like if pushed, she might break.
At present, she stood next to her sister Muriel, and unlike the last time he’d seen her, when her light had been dimmed, she was beaming.
Something had changed. What the devil was it?
And then much to his horror, a whisper of jealousy snaked through him. What if it was another man?
No. It couldn’t be. The completely irrational part of him had already apparently decided, despite all evidence, that she was his.
Quickly, he shoved that jealousy down. He should be thrilled she was beaming. The last thing he wanted was for her to be sorrowful or tainted by the cruelty of her former betrothed.
“You should go over there,” Laertes urged.
“I don’t want to go over there,” he lied through gritted teeth.
“Yes, you do,” Perseus said merrily. “I can see it on your face.”
“She doesn’t want me to go over there,” he countered.
“Yes, she does,” Laertes put in with the optimism that permeated the Briarwood family.
Deimos snorted. “No, she doesn’t. She’s made it plain. She’s got no interest in my company.”
“I don’t know if that’s true,” Perseus said, his tone lilting.
That stopped him. Did Perseus know something he did not? After all, his wife was Alice’s sister.
“Oh?” he queried, trying not to appear too interested.
Perseus and Laertes exchanged an infuriating glance.
“Come on now, old boy,” Laertes said, clapping him on the back. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Do not fall to such clichés,” Deimos gritted. “They are beneath you.”
“Oh, come, I love a good cliché,” Laertes exclaimed. “They are the stuff on which life is made. We must make our quips when we can, and none of us can be too terribly original. After all, all the great ideas have already been taken.”
Deimos arched a brow. It was true that most of the great ideas had been taken, but he rather believed that anything was possible.
If anything was possible…
He let his gaze swing back to Alice. Much to his shock, she was looking at him. His heart slammed with undue enthusiasm against his ribs. His breath froze. Time stood still. The din of the company vanished. The syrupy notes of the orchestra faded. Even the light seemed to shine only on her.
For the first time in weeks, she was actually looking at him. Usually, she looked away when he entered a room, as if his presence made her uncomfortable, a reminder of that night when the man who was supposed to become her husband had spoken so terribly of her and her sister Muriel.
It had been all he could do not to call the man out or break his nose right there on the spot for speaking ill of such a wonderful young lady.
He had not called the man out. His family was good at avoiding such scandal, though they did not mind scandal at all. But they also didn’t want to hurt people needlessly, and sometimes causing an unneeded drama was the worst thing a person could do.
No, one always had to cause the right sort of drama.
Though it had been hard, he’d respected Alice’s need to heal in her own way.
He swallowed, fearing that he was seeing what he longed to see.
Alice was looking at him with a very different look than before. Her eyes were dancing, and her lips, her oh so beautiful, rosy lips, were tilting in the smile he’d always loved.
If he went over there, was this going to be the right sort of drama? He’d never held back in his life, so he didn’t think it was a good idea for him to start now.
“What can that look mean?” he murmured before he winced. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
Perseus winked at him. “I think you’re going to have to go and find out.”
“You know, don’t you?” he replied. “Your wife has told you. There’s something afoot.”
“Oh, she didn’t need to tell me,” Perseus said with a mischievous grin. “I heard it from Alice herself, and I think you should go and speak with her.”
He narrowed his eyes. “This feels like a conspiracy. I don’t like a conspiracy.”
Laertes’s brows shot up before he laughed. “Yes, you do. Our entire family is a conspiracy. Now, go over there and do whatever the lady commands.”
He felt quite strange about that. Do whatever the lady commands.
Was there going to be a command? He bloody well hoped so.
And if there was, it was quite possible that he would follow it to the letter.
Briarwood men always did what their ladies commanded.
He was not a fool though. She was not his lady, nor did she seem to wish to be, and yet there was something in the way her eyes shimmered now as he caught her gaze again.
He strode through the crowd, leaving his cousins and their clear pleasure at his circumstances. When he stood before Alice, he gazed down at her. She was everything that he had always admired. Merry, kind, ready to laugh.
He extended his hand. “Do I dare ask you for this dance?”
She smiled, a smile that could light his heart aflame as she said, “Indeed, sir, you do dare, and I do dare reply that I shall dance with you.”
His heart, his blasted heart, began to beat with such speed one would have thought he’d run to Bristol and back.
He took her hand easily, but he did not try to make anything more of it than a simple turn about the floor.
He knew how the gossips were, but the truth was Alice had danced with many gentlemen over the last weeks. She had danced every dance she’d been able to. He had noted this, whether he’d observed it himself or gathered it through the discussions of his family.
As far as he could tell, she was attempting to not let the gossips get her down, and she had succeeded admirably so far. He admired her for it.
Yet, he had not been able to shed the feeling inside him that she was suffering for all of it.
He’d wanted to take that suffering from her.
He’d wanted to make the world perfect and beautiful for her, but Alice had resisted.
Alice had not wanted him to be a savior, which only increased his admiration… and his dismay.
The music began.
It was, most ironically, a waltz.
She laughed.
“Why are you amused?” he asked.
“Because it would seem the Fates are conspiring to put us together in a dance in which we must be in each other’s arms.”
He cocked his head to the side. “And you find that amusing?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “Especially since I’m going to ask you something quite scandalous.”
He arched a brow, his brain suddenly rioting with anticipation at those words. “I do like the sound of that. A bit of scandal is always fun,” he said.
“Is it?” she queried as she matched his long steps with ease. “I think that scandal often seems quite unpleasant.”
“It depends on the scandal,” he said softly. “And on one’s family, and what they do about it.”
“Fair point,” she said with a nod, following his lead as he turned her under his arm, then back again, before leading them in a slow turn. “Yours does handle it the best of all.”
“Thank you,” he said. “We’ve had many years and generations to practice.”
She beamed. Beamed!
God, how he loved to see it!
“Alas, mine has not,” she confessed. “As is evident by the current state of events. Muriel is our first scandal, but she has handled it with aplomb. And my sisters, brother, and mother have followed her lead in adapting to our new status.”
“And you?” he asked.
“And me?” she echoed softly, her voice catching in her throat. “It has been difficult, but there’s something that you can do to alleviate that.”
“Yes?” he said, surprised.
“I want your help.”
“My help?” he queried, shocked.
“I’m tired, Deimos. So very tired of doing what I have always done. And I’m ready to try something new.”