Rosemary Rogers - A Reckless Encounter

At last she took the wide, curved staircase to the ballroom on the second floor. She waited, heart thumping an erratic rhythm. It was so crowded, a whirl of men in evening breeches and elegant coats, a glitter of jewels and flashing smiles in a sea of strange faces.

Finally she spied Jacqueline in the receiving line. She was in her element, laughing gaily, reveling in the success of her first ball of the Season. The guest list included most of the upper strata of society, and quite a few were in attendance. Ladies Jersey and Cowper formed a gracious quartet with Jacqueline and Carolyn. Celia knew them by reputation only. The formidable ladies could ruin a young lady’s aspirations with a simple rejection to the inclusion of Almacks, their vaunted club, and it was the single-minded goal of many London mamas to have their daughters accepted into that desired society.

Celia had no illusions about her future. Yet her desire to please Jacqueline made her dutifully agree to all the preparations. It was necessary to feign interest in a suitable marriage in order to achieve her true goal.

Oh, but she truly felt guilty over the subterfuge. Jacqueline was far too kind and loving to be duped in this manner, and several times Celia had hovered on the verge of confession. Only the memories of Maman’s tragic death and the man responsible kept her still silent.

And now she would once more face Lord Northington. Fingers gripped her ivory fan so tightly it crackled a protest, and she relaxed before it broke.

I must remain calm. It is the moment I’ve waited for all these years.…

Would Northington recognize her? Remember the little girl whose mother he had killed as surely as if he had plunged a dagger into her heart?

“Celia dear,” Jacqueline beckoned, a gloved hand urging her forward. “Come and meet Lady Jersey and Lady Cowper.”

Pasting a smile on her face, Celia moved forward to greet the two formidable grande dames of London society. Oh, she thought in surprise when they greeted her quite graciously, they are very pleasant. Perhaps it is just their reputations that are intimidating, though they are assessing me quite openly.

“Will you remain long in our fair city?” Lady Jersey inquired, her lace-and-ivory fan wafting a slight breeze over elegant features as she gazed at Celia. “Lady Leverton informs me that you’ve only recently arrived from the Colonies.”

“Yes. I’m not at all certain how long I’ll remain in London. I suppose that depends upon the kindness of my godmother and her husband. Lady Leverton has been far too good to me, and I’m truly enjoying London sights.”

Emily Cowper leaned forward, fascination evident in her round face. Rumored to be the most accommodating of Almack’s patronesses, she seemed genuinely interested in the American colonies. “Tell me, how does our city compare to the Colonies? Is it true that wild savages roam the streets of cities in America, or is that only one of those ridiculous rumors that so often abound?”

Celia snagged a glass of champagne punch from the tray carried by a passing footman, and smiled brightly over the rim.

“As it happens, it’s partially true. On occasion the natives have been known to visit the city, but for the most part, they prefer their own company. Can you blame them? However, it wasn’t so long ago that uprisings and massacres indeed were visited upon American cities. The retaliation was quite harsh.”

“Ah, I do not understand this American penchant for hostility,” Lady Jersey remarked, blithely ignoring the recent war with France. She flicked her fingers in the air to indicate contempt. “One would think they would be too busy rebuilding their primitive capital to even consider retaliation upon savages.”

Celia delicately refrained from mentioning that it had been British soldiers who had burned Washington and the Capitol before ravaging the countryside only five years before. She said instead, “There are hostile tribes of natives still inhabiting the wilderness, but they remain distant for the most part.”

“How terrifying!” Lady Cowper gave a delicious shiver. “I cannot imagine such a horrid fate. All those brown men running about half-naked and abducting females—they have been known to do that, no?”

Celia nodded. “It has happened.”

“How terrible! I’m so glad I live where it’s quite civilized.”

“You wouldn’t think it so civilized if you were to walk past St. Giles Cathedral,” Lady Jersey said dryly. “All those wretched women hanging about, and even the children ready to cut your purse—or throat—without blinking.…”

As the conversation turned to other subjects, Lady Cowper’s gaze drifted across the ballroom and her brow shot up. “Oh my, do look who has arrived!”

Turning, Jacqueline gave a small gasp of delight. “It is Northington!”

A chill shivered down Celia’s spine, and she could not at once bring herself to turn and look at the man who had destroyed her childhood. She emptied her champagne and gave the glass to a footman. Her fingers tightened on the bone handle of her fan. She waved it idly back and forth, rigidly waiting. Hairs on the back of her neck tightened; it felt as if the careful cluster of artfully arranged curls on her crown were standing erect.

Lady Jersey said, “He arrives late, and does not even acknowledge the receiving line. Is that Sir John Harvey with him? Perhaps I missed his name on the guest list…”

Jacqueline’s chin lifted slightly at the implication, and though her mouth was smiling, there was a glint in her eyes. “I don’t turn away pleasant company. Harvey’s father is a baron, and Sir John I find quite charming.”

“Yes, perhaps. His father is a member of the Carlton House set and quite fast, you know. A gambler, as is his son, but neither is as proficient as Northington.”

“Neither man has the best reputation,” Lady Cowper said with a flutter of her fan, and her eyes held a speculative glow. “Yet he is so attractive, for all that he seems so…well, dangerous, I suppose you could say.”

Lady Jersey lifted her lorgnette to gaze across the room. “You must mean Northington. A handsome man, and yes, so dangerous. Quite the rogue, they say. Very adept with the pistol and the sword, and has been known to walk away from several duels, though of course, that’s still frowned upon these days. How many commendations did he receive for his military service?”

A gleam of naked excitement brightened Lady Cowper’s eyes. “One commendation was awarded for Northington’s courage in leading a charge against Napoleon’s right flank in which nearly every man of his squad was killed but him. But, of course, I’m not surprised that he survived. He has a certain air about him…not just dangerous, but—savage. Yes, that’s it! His skin is nearly as dark as one of Miss St. Clair’s savages, don’t you think? Oh, I wonder what he would look like half-naked. I’d allow him to ravish me, I vow!”

They all laughed but Celia, who managed to force a stiff smile. No one even noticed her silence. But how could they know what had happened to Maman? Or that she was near dizzy with suppressed anger, anticipation and nausea at this reminder of it?

Oh, I cannot do this! she thought. I cannot stand and listen to them talk about him as if he’s gallant or brave, or even human!

But, of course, she could say nothing, and the talk of Northington continued, Lady Jersey once more ignoring the feelings of her companions as she said, “It was reported that Northington disposed of the French at an alarming rate. A bold soldier—and an even bolder rake. He’s cut quite a swath through not only actresses, but several high-born ladies. You do recall that scandal two years ago with Letitia Goodridge? She’s still in seclusion, I understand. Quite heartbroken, they say. Apparently Sir Lawrence has locked her away in the country since she was so imprudent as to make a public scene with Northington. Foolish chit. At least Lady Katherine was discreet. Discretion is everything.”