Beauty in Breeches(20)
Julius gazed at the tempestuous young woman standing before him, her breasts rising and falling with suppressed fury, and his ire gave way to reluctant admiration for her honesty and courage in admitting her fear over the coming event.
‘Perhaps now you will realise what you have done. Your case is extreme. Normally social prejudices exclude young women like you from the ton—not that you cared much about that or about what they would think of you when you connived to trap me. But as my wife these are the people you will have to associate with and it is absolutely imperative to me that you learn to get on with them. The object is to brave it out. You have spirit enough to endure what they will put you through. As my betrothed, no one will dare disrespect you—though Lord knows you deserve it.’
She glared at him. ‘Why are you doing this? For what reason do you wish to put me on display? To further humiliate me?’
‘I do not make sport of you, Beatrice. As I said, I want us to be seen together. It is important that we put the right face on our relationship. I don’t normally attend these affairs, but I have no intention of my wife being a social outcast. Constance and James are also invited. The three of us will support you. No one will dare give you the cut direct in front of Constance and I will terrify everyone into accepting you.’
‘But what to wear,’ Lady Merrick said, sweeping into the room like a restless wind, suddenly thoughtful as her eyes moved over Beatrice from head to toe, her mind absorbed with dressing her in such a way that she would outshine all the rest. ‘I would normally opt for glamour rather than subdued elegance, but since it’s your first outing we don’t want to go over the top. The lime-green tulle will be just the thing.’
Julius smiled his agreement, his eyes appraising his future wife. ‘I agree absolutely. With that hair and those eyes, it cannot fail.’
In the carriage taking him back to his house, Julius leaned back against the upholstery, thinking over his meeting with Beatrice with fascinated interest. He was amazed by the gracious ease with which she had fitted into the Merrick household and the way she had effortlessly charmed James Merrick, bringing the house to life with her presence and her smile. She was fresh and unspoiled and, despite her youth and inexperience, there was a natural sophistication about her that came from an active mind. He remembered her shy responsiveness to his kiss in the garden at Standish House and the incredible surge of desire she had ignited in his body.
Beatrice was full of surprises and full of promise, he thought, with beauty moulded into every flawless feature of her face, but her allure went deeper than that. There was something within her that made her sparkle and glow like a rare jewel.
It seemed as if everyone in London was at the Newlands’ ball. When Julius arrived at the Merrick house, Beatrice was just coming down the stairs. She paused and looked down at him. With a stunned smile of admiration, he took in the full impact of her ravishing lime-green gown. High waisted, it fell from beneath her breasts into panels that clung gently to her graceful hips and ended in a swirl just above her toes. Her hair was drawn back in a sleek chignon, its lustrous simplicity providing an enticing contrast to the sophistication of the gown.
Moving towards her, he took her hand to help her down the last steps. ‘You look positively enchanting. After tonight, you’ll take the shine out of all the London belles.’
Buoyed by confidence stemming from wearing her first London gown, Beatrice returned his smile, while deep inside she felt something tighten and harden, clarifying and coalescing into one crystal-clear emotion. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, her eyes alight, her parted lips moist and rose tinted. She thought Julius looked incredibly handsome in his evening attire. It made him look elegantly powerful. He had a certain flair in his mode of dress—a bold splash of claret in his waistcoat beneath the black coat, an artful twist to his pristine white cravat and a flourish to the ruffle at his sleeve. It was impossible to believe he would be her husband in just a few days.
When his shrewdly judging gaze swept over her once more, with a little laugh she obligingly performed a twirl, her skirts flaring.
His eyes warmed appreciatively. ‘The gown is beautiful, Beatrice. But perfection can only be attained when one works with the best of raw materials.’
Beatrice’s heart skittered. She lowered her gaze. ‘I appreciate your compliments, Julius. It gives me confidence for what is to come. I think I shall need it.’
‘I truly expected you to send me a note informing me you had taken to your bed with a headache and a dose of salts.’
Despite her dread of the evening before her, Beatrice had to bite back a guilty smile over that remark. ‘I did consider it,’ she confessed, smiling reassuringly at Lady Merrick who stood looking on, immensely proud of her handiwork. ‘Lady Merrick talked me out of it.’
Julius nodded his approval. This young woman who was to be his wife was brave, immensely so. It was a slightly dangerous bravery that she possessed, but it was a quality in her that he admired. ‘Everyone of importance will be at the ball and it will be a complete crush—which will work to your advantage. Hopefully, afterwards, when everyone has seen you with me, the gossip will die a death and you can get on with the business of being my wife.’
The four of them travelled in Julius’s long black town coach drawn by four fiercely black horses. Less than half an hour later they arrived at the Earl and Countess of Newland’s mansion, which was an outstanding example of opulence on a grand scale. They stepped into the brilliance of the interior. It was lit by a multitude of candles in countless chandeliers and crystal sconces that made the marble pillars gleam.
A grand staircase swept upwards to the first floor where the ballroom was located. Gaming tables had been set up in reception rooms for those who preferred to pass the evening in dice and cards, and another two large reception rooms had tables arranged for the customary light supper served at midnight.
Beatrice could feel the stares and whispers as she stood in the receiving line, but she was pleasantly surprised when their host and hostess greeted her warmly. As they advanced up the low, wide staircase, she had the strange sensation of helplessness and fatality that one sometimes has in a dream. In the surrounding haze she was aware of no one but Julius by her side, offering her his undeserved support. She was crushed by the weight of responsibility, for her stupidity, her gullibility, and all that those two traits had brought down on her. Almost all the unattached beautiful women she saw had probably aspired to be the next Marchioness of Maitland, but not one of them had behaved with wanton indiscretion as she had. She deserved to be ostracised.
Julius looked at Beatrice, noting her pallor. ‘You look terrified,’ he murmured. ‘Feel like running away? I couldn’t blame you.’
Beatrice took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, knowing that if she turned back now, she would cover herself in further ridicule. ‘Yes, but I won’t. I’ve never run away from anything in my life. As a result of what I’ve done my dignity has taken a public flogging. But if I have nothing else, I still have my pride.’
Yes, Julius thought, pride was all she had left right now, and he hoped she would face them all down with her head held high. Taking her gloved hand, he tucked it through the crook of his arm. The flesh above the edge of her glove was cold. ‘Your arm is like ice. Beatrice, I could never let anybody insult you in my presence. Rest assured of that.’
Touched by his chivalrous vow and the depth of his concern, Beatrice pinned a bright smile on her face. ‘Thank you. I’ll be all right,’ she assured him. ‘After all, I faced worse than this when I confronted you to take you up on your challenge.’
He watched her rally and manufacture a smile as she lifted her head and met his gaze. She meant it, he realised with surprise. ‘Is that so?’ he said with an assessing smile as he studied her upturned face. ‘At least the memory of your brazen challenge has put some sparkle back into your eyes. It’s unfortunate that my kiss didn’t have the same effect.’
Beatrice made the mistake of looking at his mouth. She studied those lips for a second, then shook off the awareness that suddenly gripped her. She had to look away because she couldn’t concentrate on what was happening around her. ‘I wish you wouldn’t refer to that. I’m not accustomed to having men I hardly know kiss me.’
Leaning towards her so that his mouth was only inches from her ear, he whispered, ‘When you are my wife you will get to know me better. That I promise you.’
As they entered the ballroom where weaving lines of dancers were progressing in a hectic country dance, Beatrice’s restless glance skimmed about her, taking stock of her first Grand Ball. A multitude of voices were raised in avid chatter. Silks and satins in bright and subdued colours paraded before her. Perfumes drifted and mingled into a heady haze as bejewelled ladies nodded and curtsied, while elegant gentlemen in superbly cut evening clothes inclined their heads.
Julius escorted her forwards. A huge sea of people seemed to press towards them and voices erupted as heads turned and fans fluttered and people craned their necks to observe the new arrivals. Although they wouldn’t dream of giving Julius the cut, they looked at Beatrice with raised brows and severe disapproval. Knowing how conscious she was of the spectacle she offered, Julius lifted a couple of glasses of blood-red wine from the tray of a liveried footman and handed one to her.