Diane Gaston - Regency High Society Vol 7

More people entered the ballroom, and Morgana became separated from Miss Moore. Through the sea of carousers she glimpsed the older lady heading towards chairs at the side of the room. The walls of the ballroom were adorned with a collection of classical statues in various poses, set high above the crowd. On the dance floor, the Sirens, in their white dresses, looked like the statues come magically to life, a perfect complement to the décor. The women dressed as medieval maidens, voluptuous milkmaids or lithe pages looked sadly out of place. Morgana circled the edge of the crowd to find a good vantage point to keep watch over her girls.

Suddenly an arm circled her waist and a man with brandy on his breath squeezed the flesh of her buttocks. ‘Well, well, and who might you be, m’dear?’ The man’s voice was thick with drink. ‘Have we met, by any chance? If not, I’d fancy knowing you.’

Morgana tried to pull away, but, though the gentleman was shorter than herself and much older, his hold on her was firm. The hood of his black domino fell away from his face as he tried to kiss her, and she realised with alarm that this was her uncle. Lord Cowdlin wore a mask, but there was no mistaking him.

‘Release me this instant,’ she cried, pushing at his chest.

He laughed. ‘Playing it coy, eh? Come. Come. I can make it worth your while.’

‘No!’ She brought her heel down hard on his foot.

With a cry of pain, his grip loosened and she wrenched herself from his grasp. She pushed her way through the throng of people to get as far away from him as she could. He had not recognised her, thank goodness.

Her arm was caught by another gentleman in a black domino. Without a thought, she swung a fisted hand towards the man’s face. He blocked it easily, grabbing her wrist.

‘Easy, Morgana,’ he said, leaning to her ear.

She glanced up and recognised her captor even through his mask. Relief mixed with exhilaration. ‘Sloane!’

He guided her to where the wine was flowing, and handed her a glass. ‘I told you this was no place for a lady.’

A lecture was not what she wished from him. ‘I thought I told you, I have no intention of being a lady.’ To prove it, she downed the glass of wine.

His brows rose. He took the glass from her hand. ‘Another?’

She shook her head, glancing around the room.

How many of these black dominoes concealed the very same gentlemen who graced the dance floors of a society ball? Men like her uncle who were married, who led respectable lives? How many of these men kept mistresses in some fine little house off St James’s Street? Would Sloane tire of marriage to Hannah and seek a mistress instead?

Of course he would. He might desire marriage to Hannah, but it was her respectability that attracted him, just as his money attracted her. How long before they both looked elsewhere for something more?

If Morgana did become a courtesan some day, as she’d threatened him she would, perhaps she would meet him again at a ball like this. Perhaps he would dance with her. Perhaps he would even take her to bed and she would discover the delights his kisses promised.

She would never be a courtesan or a mistress. Or a wife, for that matter. And soon she would even be without Lucy, Katy, Rose and Mary. She would be without Sloane.

A man and a woman, arm in arm, nearly careened into her. Sloane grabbed her and pulled her out of the way. The man and woman smiled at each other beneath their masks, happy and unapologetic in their enjoyment. She envied them.

Sloane continued to hold her even as they passed. Morgana faced him and tilted her head to him. He gazed down at her with his smoky grey eyes.

Why could she not be the courtesan for one night? What harm would it do? She would be doing nothing with Sloane that he would not do with another after his marriage. It was not so very bad, was it, to want one single night?

The orchestra began a waltz. She lifted her arms to circle his neck. ‘Dance with me, Sloane.’

Sloane gazed down into her face, still lovely even under a mask. He felt like a man suddenly seized by a fit of insanity. He pressed her to him, ignoring for the moment the crowds of people around them.

She led him on to the dance floor, and he took her into his arms again. Here in the Argyle Rooms there was no need to maintain the decorum of Almack’s. He held her flush against him, and they moved to the music as one, spinning and turning. His senses filled with her. He reached inside the gold domino that matched her eyes, and she reached inside his. The folds of their garments hid the play of their hands on each other, the intimacy of their bodies.

How had he ever considered being with any other woman but Morgana? No other possessed the same wild, untamed nature as he himself possessed, that sense of searching for something just beyond reach. She was what he searched for, and she was in his arms now. He was not about to release her.

At the end of the dance, he forgot the crowd, leaning down to taste her lips, lips she generously offered him. She tasted, not like the forbidden fruit a rake might grab for his own, but like a homecoming.

The sounds around him faded as he deepened the kiss. She entwined her fingers in his hair, and he gave himself to the moment. But there was a shout and a scuffle not far from where they stood. Sloane reluctantly released Morgana and pushed her behind him. Through the crowd he saw Elliot, of all people, swinging punches at a burly gentleman who tumbled on to the floor. Lucy looked on in alarm as the man rose and charged at Elliot. Sloane dived into the fray, Morgana at his heels. He grabbed the man by the collar of his coat and used the man’s own momentum to send him crashing into the crowd.

He caught Elliot by the front of his domino. ‘Get Lucy,’ he yelled to Morgana. ‘Find the others and be out of here.’

‘He put his hands on her!’ Elliot cried as Sloane dragged him to the door.

‘What the devil did you expect?’ Sloane muttered.

An alarmed Robert Duprey caught up to them, with Mary dragging a protesting Katy.

‘Do we have to leave now?’ Katy cried, looking back at two disappointed gentlemen. Rose hurriedly took a card from a grey-haired gentleman and followed them. Madame Bisou and Miss Moore pushed through the crowd.

When they were all outside the door, Sloane removed his mask. ‘It is time to leave,’ he said.

They could hear angry shouts from inside the ballroom. ‘I’m going after her!’ a man shouted.

‘Leave now!’ ordered Sloane. He seized Morgana’s arm and led them to the street. Elliot and Duprey quickly helped the other women into the waiting hackneys. Sloane closed the door of one, saying, ‘Miss Hart will come with me.’

The burly gentleman, two of his friends trying to hold him back, ran into the street as the cabs pulled away. He spied Sloane. ‘You interfering—’ He barrelled straight for him.

Sloane pushed Morgana out of the way and swung his fist hard, hitting the man in the stomach. The punch barely slowed the man. He knocked Sloane to the ground and fell on top of him. The man had his fingers around Sloane’s throat before Sloane could get his own grip on the fellow.

Just as he was about to knee the fellow hard in the groin, a flurry of gold silk covered them and the man cried out in pain. Morgana’s fingers gouged at the man’s eyes. He released Sloane and turned on her, but Sloane knocked him off and sent him rolling into the side of the building.

Morgana scrambled to her feet.

‘Hurry!’ Sloane urged as he led her to his carriage.

The coachman jumped on to his perch. ‘Be off,’ Sloane shouted, nearly tossing Morgana inside. When he fell in after her, the carriage was already moving.

She laughed, pulling off her mask. ‘You are a prime scrapper, Morgana,’ Sloane said as he brought his mouth to hers.