Chapter 13
News of Hermia and Crispin’s marriage sped through the ton like racehorses on the course at Newmarket. As Hermia entered the London town mansion just off Oxford Street where the evening’s ball would take place, it was impossible to miss the general atmosphere.
The ton was agog with the mystery of how a wallflower had captured such a desirable catch.
She linked arms with Juliet. “I shall need your strength tonight,” Hermia whispered to her sister.
Juliet patted her hand. “Never you fear. I shall lend you mine, but truly I think that you shall be splendid. I’ve always thought you the brightest jewel. I’m flash and fun, but you? You are rich. Like a ruby.”
Hermia was rather glad to have her sister’s confidence in her. She needed it. After all, she was not accustomed to being the center of attention. And suddenly she wondered if Juliet really enjoyed being the subject of everyone’s discourse.
Being stared at and gossiped about was normal for Juliet. Wherever Juliet went, people followed and judged and made comments. Was it exhausting? Always shining so that people could find no fault in her?
She rather thought it had to be, and her admiration for her sister and her sister’s endurance grew.
Hermia had always been able to stay in the background, quite unobserved. She truly enjoyed it. But she had made a promise, and she was going to keep that promise, especially after seeing Crispin’s face and hearing how her standing up for him had bolstered him so entirely.
It was wrong, in her opinion, that no one had stood up for him like that in the past!
How could his family abandon him so? Such a thing was veritably unimaginable to her.
And she rather wondered at his childhood, and his life, and how lonely he must have felt. In all her life, she’d never been lonely. As a matter of fact, she’d often longed for a bit of quiet.
Now, seeing him so isolated, despite having a mother and a sister, she found herself grateful for her brood of a family.
She’d always been surrounded by the love and support of her siblings and mother and father. Even when her father had died of a fever abroad, they had rallied around each other and kept each other strong, never letting one of them fall to the wayside.
No matter the pain or sorrow, Briarwoods did not suffer alone.
And because of that, they had emerged on the other side stronger. Now, as she and Juliet negotiated their way through the crush of bodies at the all-popular ball, she lifted her chin high.
She would do herself proud.
She would do her family proud and, yes, even Crispin.
She was going to defy the idea that she was not worth noticing or marrying. They crossed the long hall, winding their way through befeathered ladies in skirts that had mercifully shrunk in the last years. Gone were the wide panniers of previous decades.
Oh, their skirts were still full, made so by fluffed bum rolls or pads. But at least there were no massive structures to avoid. She was deeply grateful that the gowns she and Juliet wore were far kinder than what her mother had known.
They headed into the main ballroom, which was a veritable swarm of perfectly dressed humanity. Jewels glittered everywhere. Silks shot through with silver and gold glimmered.
Fans and feathers and artificial flowers bounced and bobbed as their wearers made merry.
And there were beautiful statues in every corner of ancient Greek heroes and gods.
Lady Hardcrest’s son had recently returned from his European tour. The gentleman had been particularly in love with Greece and the antiquities there, and so the party was themed à la grecque.
Lately, she wondered if fashion would soon take more note of this obsession. She certainly wouldn’t mind wearing clothes that skimmed the body. It would make dancing and walking far easier.
She gaped about her, admiring the stone works that soared around the company. Of course, all things Greek and Roman had been made particularly fashionable, not just because of the importance of studying Greek and Greek philosophy, but also since the discovery of Pompeii.
Most London houses had artifacts and paintings brought back from all over Europe to denote a young man’s time spent abroad.
She did feel a moment’s envy whenever she saw such things, for young ladies were not encouraged to do the same. Her brothers had all gone to Europe on a tour at some point or the other, spending a great deal of time in Italy, Greece, Spain, Germany, and France.
They had developed a view of the world that was unique, all because they had been exposed to things she only could see in books. And her brothers had not limited themselves to European courts, developing an understanding of people that most aristocrats did not possess.
Perhaps one day, she would travel.
The idea sent a shiver of excitement through her. It wasn’t so much that she needed to be in a cottage alone. It was more that she did not like crowds bothering her. Surely, she could travel and see exciting things without having to attend parties and balls. She could witness the great art of Europe quietly without the carousing that usually accompanied the partaking of society.
Yes, yes. She beamed. It was a remarkable idea. She could find herself a companion who wouldn’t bother her too much, and she’d have a marvelous time discovering such ancient wonders.
She drew in a breath and drank in the scent of roses. For great Grecian urns had been placed everywhere, filled with roses and oak leaves.
Candles and lanterns were placed all about on Doric columns which had been positioned throughout the room. Greek tableaus had been artificially constructed throughout the house, leading from room to room, telling the story of Odysseus’s journey.
Hermia knew that one of the theater’s scenic designers, a friend of her mother’s, had been engaged to create a wonderland of Grecian art and curiosity in the rooms of the house. So that people might go on a tour, though still in London.
For the ton, who constantly battled ennui, it was a delightful distraction.
Everything was temporary and would easily be taken down.
At present, it did look quite impressive.
Ladies and gentlemen strode back and forth, showing off their clothes that were slightly inspired by the Greeks too. She admired those who had laced their hair with gold-filigreed oak leaves.
Even her own gown, which she had borrowed from Juliet, took on a slightly Grecian-inspired look. Oh, she still had the form and stays of today’s society, but her hair was coiled in a sort of nod to Grecian vases.
Her sister looked like a goddess with her coiled hair, streaming with silver embossed leaves. And Hermia, for the first time, felt as if she looked like a match for her twin. Perhaps it was because she no longer had to worry about the marriage mart.
As they stepped further into the room, ignoring the curious stares of the ton, she took the opportunity to study the beautiful mosaics that had been hung upon the walls.
She found herself thrilled.
Perhaps she could avoid everyone entirely and simply go from statue to statue and observe the art brought back from afar. She rather hoped so.
But then she spotted him.
Crispin stood at across the room. He was gazing upon her, his eyes full of wonder and desire. Her skin tingled at that, and her breath caught in her throat. She could not forget the kiss, that marvelous kiss, exchanged between them. And suddenly she wanted to go find a hidden spot with him. Such parties were full of private nooks and couples sharing stolen moments.
Could she indulge? How she longed to and to see where his kisses led.
She knew in a two weeks’ time they’d be married, and she’d be able to discover all of that. But that seemed like a world away. With his hot gaze lingering upon her, an intense desire rushed through her and drove away all her reason again.
How did he do that?
Slowly, his gaze never leaving hers, he made his way across the room until he stood but a mere inch away from her.
Crispin held out his hand to her. “Good evening, Lady Hermia,” he said.
She gave him a slight curtsy. “My lord,” she replied.
“Dance with me,” he all but commanded in a voice that had a deep, delicious edge.
“Dance with you?” she queried.
He leaned down and whispered against her ear, “I cannot wait to hold you in my arms.”
Her skin tingled as she felt his breath against her sensitive flesh and she swallowed, feeling as if she was becoming lost to him and his seductive powers.
It was perhaps the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, and she certainly never would’ve imagined such words being said to her in such a way. Juliet gave her a quick look that seemed to say that she was in absolute heaven for her.
“Of course, my lord,” she at last managed to blurt.
Crispin led her to the floor. It was a slow dance, a beautiful dance, in which they could spend time in each other’s arms.
He began leading her through the intricate steps, and eventually they would meet up with a larger group of couples, but this moment between them caused her heart to sing.
Again, people were staring at them because, well, who would’ve imagined a wallflower marrying the Earl of Drexel? But she ignored them all, and she allowed herself to be caught up in the feeling of his arms about her.
He gazed down at her, then whispered, “I want that kiss again,” he said. “I want a thousand of them.”
“As do I,” she confessed. “And soon we should be able to have as many as we please.”
“I don’t want to wait,” he growled honestly.
“Nor I,” she admitted, shocked that she was saying such things.
“Let us take a walk,” he said, “about the house and see the amusements on display.”
Her brows lifted, understanding that he hoped to find a place to kiss her. A place much like the nook at Heron House.
“Do we dare?” she breathed.
“If you are willing.”
She grinned suddenly as her heart skipped. “Well, we are to be married. What is the harm in it?” she said. “Besides, you and I are different than everyone else. Aren’t we? We’re to be apart from the silliness of society. We already have a sensible arrangement.”
Her arguments were true, but she also knew something was driving her to be alone with him. Something intense and all encompassing. She longed for him.
He smiled and turned her under his arm. “Exactly, my lady.” And with that, the music came to a close, and he led her off the floor.
Juliet bounded up to them. “And where do you two think you’re going?”
“A walk,” Hermia replied, trying to sound innocent. Her voice broke and she winced. Unlike most of her siblings, she was a terrible liar.
“Oh, well, then I shall accompany you,” Juliet replied. Her own sparkling eyes were darting about as if looking for someone.
“Of course,” the earl said. “You are more than welcome.”
They headed out to the halls where the amusements had been set up.
“Look,” Juliet exclaimed. “It is Athena!” Then Juliet frowned, mulling over the goddess’ situation. “Do you think that she’s still furious from being born out of her father’s head?”
Hermia could not help herself. She laughed. “I would be. Can you imagine? It is such a bizarre idea.”
“And this one, Hermes,” exclaimed Juliet with delight as they ventured further and further from the ballroom. “Ah, to be a winged-footed god and a messenger who could fly back and forth. I think it would be most marvelous, don’t you?”
“I think it looks a bit chilly,” said Crispin, eying the young male god’s barely clad form.
“Well, that’s because we’re in England,” Hermia pointed out. “Have you not been to Greece, my lord? My brothers say it is quite warm.”
He shook his head. “I have not had call to be abroad. I have spent most of my life here in England.”
“Have you not ever wished to go?” she asked suddenly.
He hesitated. “Yes, but I did not wish to leave my mother.”
“And your mother does not go abroad?” she asked, surprised. Her mother had loved to travel with her father but had stayed home in the last years to ensure her children were nurtured with care.
“No,” he said, a strange look crossing his face “Though perhaps she would be happier if she did. She had such a wonderful time in Paris.”
“You should take her,” Hermia urged. “I think she would enjoy it immensely, or at least send her and give her a bit of freedom.”
He laughed at that. “I cannot imagine my mother…” but then he paused. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it would be just the right thing for her.”
“Freedom,” Hermia said softly, “makes everyone happier.”
Crispin studied her and let out a breath of understanding. “You are so right.”
Juliet squeezed her hand, looking to a hall that led off to the right. “Oh, forgive me. I have forgotten something.”
And without further explanation, Juliet darted away.
Hermia stared after her sister and wondered at the strangeness of the fact that she’d asked to come with them and then suddenly departed.
She mulled this over, a hint of concern lacing through her.
Was Juliet making it easier for them to be alone? Or did Juliet have an assignation somewhere in the house?
She wasn’t certain.
“That was odd,” Crispin observed.
“Well, with Juliet, one never knows,” she pointed out.
“At least I get to be alone with you,” he murmured, lacing her fingers with his.
Then, wordlessly, Crispin led her carefully through the halls, his eyes searching for a quiet spot. At last, towards the back of the immense town hose, they found a small room with a statue of Aphrodite at the center and a striped silk chaise lounge.
Crispin closed the door behind them. Shutting them in and away from the prying eyes of the world.
The small room was beautifully appointed with blue striped silk walls and paintings of couples from the past. Most were intertwined, either at repose in fields or seeming on the brink of a kiss.
“How apropos,” she said, her body a riot of feeling at the realization that they were alone. That they could risk a kiss now.
“Yes, as if it was meant to be,” he murmured.
“Do you believe in things like that?” she asked softly.
“That things are meant to be?” he queried. “I never have before, but I am beginning to.”
She licked her lips, eager for him to pull her close. Eager to give into the feelings he evoked within her. “Everything seems right…about us. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes,” he agreed softly. “It does.”