Georgiana glanced down at her chest, which was indeed far more exposed than had ever been the case in public before. The tight lacing of the bodice had had an extraordinary effect. She crossed the room to the cheval glass that stood in one corner, and studied her reflection doubtfully. It was, as she had said, far too late to change. It was time to go down to dinner, or they would be late.
The woman she saw – for it was not a girl she beheld in the mirror – was a stranger. Her short hair had been given the appearance of length with the aid of Lady Blanche’s false curl, which nestled against her bare neck. Her bright blue eyes glittered behind the lace loo mask she wore, and her maid had set a black velvet patch beside her right eye, so that the mask did not conceal it, saying that the other abigails in the servants’ hall had shown her how to do it, and furnished her with themeans. Many of the guests would be attired in the fashion of the previous century, and would also be sporting patches. She had dimples, ordinarily, but they were not in evidence now, since she didn’t feel she had anything at all to smile about. She shook out the ruffles of silver lace at her elbows, and took a deep breath. Louisa groaned. ‘Try not to breathe more than is strictly necessary,’ she advised.
‘It is a masquerade, after all,’ Miss Spry consoled her. ‘You, Louisa, are wearing a gown that is in the current mode, but most other people will not be, I dare say. Many of us will present an odd appearance. Look atme!’
‘I think it suits you,’ Louisa said. ‘I agree that the bold stripes are… not quite what one is used to these days, but the overall effect is pleasing. Your hair looks well in powder, and matches the gown. And I like the fichu. At leastyouwill be warm enough! The castle is quite draughty in parts, I have observed, and Georgie is like to catch her death!’
This seemed unjust to Georgiana, as her aunt had quite as much bosom on show as she did, and she said so. ‘I am not a young unmarried lady!’ replied Louisa. ‘Our situations are quite different. Nobody is likely to attempt to drawmeaside into a dark corner and seek to compromise me!’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Jane, brown eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve always thought that gown most attractive, as I believe you have reason to know.’
‘I think we should go down, or we shall be late,’ Georgiana said firmly. She squared her shoulders, ignoring her aunt’s moans of protest, and they set off gingerly down the steep staircase.
21
The dinner that preceded the ball was a grand occasion. The distinguished members of the Howard party were seated in the places of honour, so she was not obliged to be in any very close proximity to the Duke, a fact for which she was excessively grateful.
Everyone present had made some sort of effort to dress according to the prescribed theme, although most of the older guests had done so by the use of colour, rather than by donning any outlandish costumes. Alice was miserable in white and silver, and Mary Debenham glittered coldly in a priceless lace court dress of quite recent vintage, which, it must be admitted, suited her icy blonde prettiness very well. There were other ladies in low-cut gowns from the previous century – it seemed that the attics of Castle Howard had also been raided for the purpose – and as a result Georgie did not feel so very out of place, though she might have wished that her dinner neighbours would raise their gazes to her face occasionally. Yes, she felt a wild impulse to say, breasts! Two of them – a matching set! Clearly a novelty where you are concerned! I must not,she resolved, have another glass of wine. For several excellent reasons.
The Mauleverers had, as hosts, made a particular effort with their costumes. Lady Blanche had reserved for herself a striking silver gown in which, with powdered hair, she rather resembled Madame de Pompadour, and her children were both dressed chiefly in black, which flattered their pale complexions and striking dark red hair. Young Mr FitzHenry looked very handsome, and many of the ladies present were quite obviously conscious of the fact. Alice was seated by him, and seemed to find his attentions greatly to her liking. Georgie had the fleeting thought that ifheinstead of his uncle were of a mind to pay court to her friend, she would be by no means so reluctant or so frightened.
But Georgiana had no eyes for him. How could she? The Duke was in full court dress of black velvet heavily embroidered with silver, with white ruffles at neck and wrist, and his long hair, which he had not chosen to powder, was drawn back into a short queue. Perhaps he’d grown it for the purpose. His eyes were bright behind his plain black mask – a mask she thought she recognised – and when he saw her watching him his lips quirked, and he raised his wineglass to her with a courtly inclination of his silvered head. She feared she coloured as she responded, and hoped he did not perceive it beneath her mask. She was mortified that he had caught her staring, but he was so very arresting in the costume that she had not been able to stop herself. He was always handsome in modern dress, especially in evening dress, but the contrast of sensuous velvet and delicate lace with his powerful, athletic frame was something piquant, entirely new, and powerfully attractive. Definitely no more wine, she told herself.
He claimed her for the second dance, a fitting and in sober truth unavoidable tribute to her rank. Lady Georgiana Morpeth,conscious of her delicate condition, was not dancing. She sat to one side observing the throng and gossiping with Louisa and some of the other ladies past their first youth, several of them gently fanning themselves as the heat in the great hall increased with the press of bodies. The guests who came from close by had arrived, and filled the room, and as Lady Blanche had said the effect of so much black, silver and white by candlelight was enormously striking. Georgie had danced the first set with a young Howard or Stafford, who had flirted in a decorous fashion that did nothing to trouble her composure, but she feared that the Duke would be a very different matter.
He took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Ma dame,’ he said softly. ‘Vous êtes ravissante ce soir.’
She closed her eyes briefly as she swept him a full curtsey, and prayed for strength. His voice was seductive enough in English; French was more than a woman could be expected to endure. ‘I could say the same of you. You must be conscious of the effect you create in that outfit – it is as though Casanova walks among us again. I hope Miss Templeton is swept by away your charms this evening. Do you dance with her next?’
They took up their places. ‘I can’t remember. But I shouldn’t think she would be: she has hardly shown any evidence of succumbing to my allegedly irresistible allure up to now.’
‘She’s frightened of you.’
His mouth thinned below the mask as the music began and they moved apart, and then together. ‘You exaggerate, surely? She is merely timid and a little shy of me because we are not yet well acquainted. I have felt no temptation to overstep the bounds of propriety with her, nor done the least thing to cause her any alarm.’
‘I do not exaggerate. She finds even conversing with you intimidating, and the prospect of being alone with you positivelyterrifying. Which might be a problem in the future you have planned, I’d have thought.’
‘Did I choose poorly? Again? How maladroit I appear to be. You must bear a share of the blame, for I am sure Miss Debenham would have been more receptive.’
‘Oh, I have no doubt of it.’
‘It does make me wonder, could any of my prospective brides ever meet with your approval?’ he said silkily. ‘You are inconsistent, Rosalind. You do not want me for yourself – or you do, in truth, but you dare not – but you are so very quick to find fault with all my other choices.’
‘That is unfair!’ she hissed. ‘I am not at all jealous, I assure you! Mary Debenham would be a disastrous match for any man of sense.’ His mouth quirked again, and he made a graceful, ironical little bow in acknowledgement of the inadvertent compliment without losing his place in the dance. She ignored it and swept on. ‘And I cannot believe that evenyoureally wish to marry a woman who hates dogsanddreads intimacy with you so much that she plans to make it bearable by telling over household chores in her head all the while!’
He let out a little snort of incredulous laughter. ‘No!’ she said. ‘I assure you, sir! On both counts!’
‘Well, if I were truly to wish to live up to my deplorable reputation, I could say that I am confident such measures will not prove necessary. But I take your point, my dear – it’s perfectly true that I have no wish to figure as an ogre in my own marriage bed. The picture you paint, dogs aside, does sound rather fatiguing, and not hugely enjoyable for either of the parties involved. And,’ he added, his silver eyes glinting wickedly behind the mask, ‘you have excellent reason to know that I am never selfish when it comes to pleasure.’
‘Hush!’ she whispered fiercely, though his words set the blood thrumming in her veins. She did have every reason toknow it, and the pictures and sensations his words evoked were a delicious torment, at such a time and in such a public setting. She was sure he was aware of the effect he had on her, that was the worst of it, and he was laughing at her as the dance ended.
Alice was indeed his next partner, and Georgie was all too conscious of her white, rigid little face – the Duke’s expression she could not read – as she took her place in the set close by them, and turned in the figures with Mr FitzHenry as her partner, thankful he appeared to have given up his previous attempts to flirt with her in the face of her obvious and consistent lack of interest. She could not help but feel guilty as she beheld Alice’s barely concealed distress, knowing she could free her friend from the fears that haunted her with little more than a word. A significant glance, a nod would do it. But at what cost to herself?
It was all too much for her suddenly, and when the dance was ended she made an excuse to her waiting partner and slipped from the crowded room, rejecting his offers of assistance. She made her way through the empty picture gallery and found the door that she had used with Alice the evening before. Escaping into the garden, she crossed to a stone bench and sat, drinking in the reviving sea air and gazing blindly at the moonlit scene. But she was not left in peace for long.
‘This was my mother’s favourite spot,’ said the voice she had been half-expecting to hear. She sat still and watched him approach, and thought as he did so that this was surely his natural element: the rhythmic sound of the crashing waves on the beach far below, the velvet darkness, the everyday objects transformed into something strange and eerie by the moonlight. Every fibre of her body was aware of his proximity and her blood sang in her veins at the prospect of his touch, however much she might tell herself that it should not be so. It was so; perhaps it always would be.
‘I wondered if you would follow me.’
