Chapter 6
Victor was going to destroy Nathaniel Allworthy, no matter what it took, because that man had had the audacity to offend Ernestine. And then he had taken it a step further and spread her name about like it was common muck.
It was extremely annoying that men of his class had such power.
But, on the other hand, it was a very beneficial thing that he and his friends also had a great deal of power.
Nathaniel Allworthy was about to receive an awakening by a group of men who had come up with a plan, and a plan made by a group of friends was surely the best thing in the world.
Usually, Victor did not ascribe to plans because they were very hard to adhere to. Life had a way of coming up with never-imagined horrors, which meant that plans could not be achieved.
Goals? Yes.
Plans? No.
It was an ever-repeating theme. A theme which the Duke of Rivers seemed to already understand.
Truthfully, he felt that the more people who understood that, the better, and certainly the happier they would be, because what was unhappiness except expectations unmet?
And, frankly, life was a series of unmet expectations.
He’d discovered that long ago when he’d been a boy and thought things always worked out, that surely the good prevailed, that light always beat back the darkness, that knights always rescued their ladies.
No, knights did not always rescue the lady, and sometimes the lady never left the tower, and sometimes the knight was killed by the beast.
He hoped to God he would not be a knight killed by a beast of humanity’s making.
Beasts of stories were not so very frightening.
No, humans were far more frightening, and Nathaniel Allworthy was one of the worst. Not because he killed people, not because he was the most dangerous, but because his soul was one of the smallest that Victor had ever encountered.
And the only way that young man felt his expansion was by making life brutal for others.
It was a tragedy, but there it was, and nothing seemed to stop him.
No one could, because when you were the son of a duke, the world was yours.
No one wanted to get in the way of such a man, no matter what they did.
It was even a bit challenging when you were an earl because, truth be told, while an earl was not of the same status as a duke, an earl was still exceptionally powerful.
Very few people could stop Victor. Only a duke could. But luckily, Victor had a duke of his own.
The Duke of Rivers was no small personage, and his parties were no small thing either. The sprawling house was now full to the brim with people cascading through the foyer, flowing up the stairs, and heading into the ballroom, eager to be seen at this event.
The Duke of Rivers was quickly becoming one of the most important party givers of the Season, even though he was unwed. It was rather singular, but when one was a duke, one did like to guide society.
Luckily for Victor, such guiding of society also included the protection of young ladies.
Miss Ernestine Foxley, her aunt and her cousins, Delia and Roland, were already in the foyer waiting to be admitted to the ballroom.
Victor had caught sight of them coming up the outside stairs as he had peered down through the window, and it had been impossible for him not to be completely transfixed by his Miss Foxley.
The simple pink gown that caressed her rather short but handsomely curved frame made him long to clasp her to him and make a study of her hips, ribs, and breasts. Those plump rounds were pressed upward by her stays, two mouthwatering temptations.
He did not know how all the other men in the place were not driven mad by her. Her hair was dressed quite simply, even austerely, but somehow it only made her pale face more striking in his eyes.
She was a study in complexity. She wasn’t a usual wallflower.
She didn’t fade into the background because she had no panache.
He was fairly certain that she faded into the background because that was what she wanted, or that something had happened to her long ago that had made her light fade, and she’d never been able to quite find it again.
By God, he wanted to help her find that light, and he wanted to crush anyone who got in the way of it. He had spent most of his life trying to help ladies, and he was damn well going to help this one.
Especially this one, because he had not stopped thinking about her since their meeting. And he was convinced she had been brought into his life because she was the one he had been waiting for.
He turned away from the towering windows that overlooked the stairs climbing up to the entrance of the house, rushed down the inside steps, and the moment that he spotted her in the foyer, he crossed and offered his arm. “Miss Foxley, what a pleasure it is.”
“My lord,” she called, her eyes brightening at the sight of him in a sea of strangers. “What a surprise to see you so soon. One would have thought you would have been caught up in the ongoings of the ballroom.”
“I would be happy to put all of that aside for a mere moment with you.”
She tsked. “You, sir, talk too prettily.”
Miss Delia Foxley let out a laugh, not a silly, frothy one, but a genuine deep sound, which did wonders for her already handsome face. “He does talk very prettily, Ernestine. Why don’t you enjoy it?”
Miss Ernestine arched a brow. “Am I to enjoy the pretty speech of a gentleman when there is nothing of substance behind it?”
He lifted his hand and pressed it to his heart. “A blow, a palpable blow,” he said. “But we are not here for insubstantial things. We are here to make a statement this night.”
Mrs. Foxley let out a note of concern, but then she nodded her head, causing the feathers wound into her hair to bob.
Miss Ernestine frowned. “Why ever would we do that?” she said. “I don’t do well in packed ballrooms, and I’m hoping that I can find a room that I can slip off to while—”
“No rooms to slip off to,” he cut in. “First of all, that’s dangerous. Second of all, we are here to put Nathaniel Allworthy in his place.”
“Isn’t his place rather lofty?” Miss Ernestine countered, her eyes darting over his face.
He sighed but refused to be brought down. “It is, but even Icarus fell from the sky.”
“Nathaniel Allworthy is not a mere mortal,” she pointed out. “Nathaniel Allworthy is closer to the gods.” She licked her lips, then whispered, “Like you.”
He smiled slowly at her. “You think me like a god?”
She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes.
“You know you’re like a god. We mere mortals should not play with you.
The annals of history, both Roman and Greek, tell us that interfering with the play of the gods leads to absolute and utter disaster.
I have no wish to end up in the underworld or turned into a spider or have many of the outcomes that happened to ladies before me befall my future. I have no wish to anger the gods.”
“Here, here,” Mrs. Foxley said.
He let out a low groan. “I think it is too late,” he said.
“What?” She gasped as he guided her through the thick company.
Her aunt let out a bleat of alarm.
“Never fear,” he said to cheer the aunt. “I have everything in hand. Your family is about to ascend to heights heretofore unknown.”
Her aunt beamed, the promise a boon.
Then he gently guided Miss Ernestine aside as Miss Delia and her aunt began to make merry gossip about said ascension.
“Nathaniel Allworthy is out for blood,” he said. “Apparently, you wielding your parasol at him particularly offended his delicate sensibilities.”
“Is that it?” she asked.
And at that particular moment, they spotted him across the company.
Rivers had not wished to invite the Duke of Lindly’s son, but it was difficult to completely avoid such invitations. Snubbing a duke’s family was not usually done.
“What happened to him?” she gasped.
Allworthy’s eyes were two matching sets of black storm clouds, framed by purple bruises.
His lips twitched. “Let’s just say the gentleman had the misfortune to run into my fist. More than once.”
“You did that?” she asked, astonished.
“Indeed, I did. With alacrity.”
She hesitated. Her face creased into a series of rapid thoughts, and he had a terrible moment, feeling that she was about to castigate him and tell him that violence was never the answer.
But then she drew herself up, looked up at him, and said, “Thank you. I am glad someone has done it. He probably needs it done again because I feel that that young man only understands authority from a gentleman who is his superior.”
“And I’m quite glad that you think that I’m above him,” he said.
“In every way,” she replied swiftly. “I have been reading up on you, and it does seem that your morality is a bit mixed.”
He guffawed at that. “A bit mixed is a most interesting way of describing my morality,” he said. “Do you find it offensive, the fact that I enjoy life so much?”
She shrugged as he led her closer to the ballroom, up the packed stairs.
“I don’t know if you enjoy life or not, sir.
That’s really not my concern, but it is definitely clear that you enjoy your good fortune, and more power to you, I suppose.
And thank you. Thank you for defending me.
Thank you for letting that rotter of a man know that if he attempts to do such a thing again, he will be met with justice and not simply allowed to terrorize young ladies who are alone or less important than he is. ”
Her compliment hit him, and it did the most astonishing thing to his spirit. It lifted it, and he felt it grow. Indeed, suddenly he wanted to walk around like a peacock fluffing his feathers.
“Thank you,” he said. “But I confess that your parasol and my fists have put him on guard, and he has gone about whispering a few things.”
As they wove their way through the collection of lords and ladies in their finery, and then into the ballroom, Miss Delia followed behind, trying to catch snippets of their conversation.
Mrs. Foxley beamed, clearly pleased to be in such company and the opportunity it would provide her children.
He sucked in a breath. “There is some insinuation that you and I are, well, an item,” he said.
“An item. Like a pastry in a shop?” she said tartly.
He laughed. “I think you would make a most excellent pastry,” he said, “and I wouldn’t mind having a bite of you.”
In fact, he would happily lick her cream, savoring her sweetness.
The thought caused a wave of desire to crash through him. Given the plan for the evening and the company, he shoved the tempting imagery away.
One day soon, he’d eat her up, but not now.
He sighed. “It is more that Allworthy is insinuating that your honor was somehow in question and that I was going to fight a duel, but things went awry and—”
“Wait, what?” she yelped. “That cannot be happening. I have lived a very dull existence until I came into your garden.”
He winced. “I know,” he said, “but you know how society is.”
“No, not really. I don’t circulate in these rooms. I’m not a god. I’m Icarus in this situation, not Nathaniel Allworthy. And it did not work out for Icarus,” she rushed, clearly alarmed.
He drew in a sharp breath. How right she was.
“It’s true,” he whispered, leaning down so only she could hear, “but Icarus did not have the blessing of the gods, and you are about to.”
Her eyes widened at that. “I don’t want to be blessed by the gods. I don’t want to be cursed by the gods. I wish to be entirely ignored by all of the gods and live a very simple life and move away to Italy.”
“Italy,” he said.
“That’s right.”
“Why the obsession with Italy?”
She lifted her gaze to his and said with utter conviction, “Because the sun shines there.”
And somehow, deep in his soul, he knew she was not just referring to the weather.