Countess of Scandal (13 page)

"And you will have no shortage of eager partners," Eliza said, settling herself on the seat with all her heavy skirts and feathers. "Mary tells me the Thirteenth is back in Dublin."

"Indeed? That is good news for you, Eliza."

"For
me?"

"Oh yes. Now you can cease pacing about the house so restlessly and dance all you like with Major Denton."

Eliza stared out the window at the passing houses. It was a good thing indeed that Anna was going home soon. "I do not pace."

"Certainly not," Anna said, obviously not at all convinced.

"And I will not dance tonight, either. Staid Castle minuets are hardly worth the trouble."

Anna smiled smugly. "If you say so, sister."

"Major Denton. How very pleasant to see you again," Mrs. Hardwick, General Hardwick's wife, said, holding out her hand to Will as he stepped under the columned portico of the Castle.

The Hardwicks' pretty blond daughter, Lydia, who had sat next to him at the theater, stood behind her mother. She smiled at him shyly from beneath her white plumes.

Will bowed over Mrs. Hardwick's hand. "And pleasant to see you as well, Mrs. Hardwick. Miss Hardwick. You are both looking splendid this evening."

"We were not sure you would return to Dublin in time for the festivities," said Mrs. Hardwick. "My husband told me the Thirteenth was dispatched to keep the peace in some horrid little village."

Will thought of the town of Prosperous, so near to Moreton Manor and to Eliza's family at Killinan. While Queen's County just to the south was in a state of insurrection, Kildare County had been eerily quiet. The streets of Prosperous had been nearly deserted, suspicious eyes peering from behind shutters. Green streamers fluttering from flagposts had been torn down and trampled by the soldiers.

"It is quite fearsome that the rebellion draws so
close," Lydia whispered. "I have the most frightful nightmares. ..."

"I should not worry, Miss Hardwick," Will said reassuringly. "We found the town, and all of Kildare, to be quite peaceful. And Dublin is well fortified."

Mrs. Hardwick gave him an approving smile. "And we have fine men such as Major Denton to protect us, do we not, Lydia dear?"

Lydia smiled and blushed. "Indeed, Mama. I see we need not fear at all."

"Though perhaps the major, having been away, has not enjoyed a dance in many days?"

Will could take a hint. "I have not, Mrs. Hardwick, sadly enough. Perhaps Miss Hardwick will honor me with the first dance, if she is not otherwise engaged?"

"Thank, you," Lydia breathed. "I am not otherwise engaged."

"My dears!" General Hardwick boomed, emerging from a door hidden to the left in the dark gray stone wall. He was followed by two other men in brightly decorated regimentals. "Are you importuning the poor young man for dances already? He has scarcely arrived! I vow, Major Denton, facing our fair Dublin ladies is far more hazardous than any pack of rebels."

They all laughed as Mrs. Hardwick tapped her husband's arm with her folded fan.

"Papa!" Lydia cried, blushing again. "You will give Major Denton entirely the wrong idea."

"Indeed, General, Miss Hardwick has given me the honor of a dance," Will said. "I daresay a minuet is preferable to rebels, when it is with such a charming partner."

Miss Hardwick's blush flared even pinker, and her
rather affectionately pinched her cheek. They were the very image of a contented family, and as Will watched them, he felt a pang that felt strangely like... longing.

His own family was not particularly close, each of them preferring to go their own way—his rather to London and his mother to Moreton Manor. If there was any affection, it was for his older brother Henry, but he was always in sunny Italy with his mistress. Will often wondered what a home, a family, of his own would feel like. A place of warmth, welcome, acceptance, and love.

He thought of Eliza, of her soft smile as she rested in his arms. Of her fingertips tracing lazy patterns on his skin, the two of them bound in the greatest of intimacy. Once, long ago, he thought his true home could be with her. But these dangerous days were no time for peaceful dreams.

"Run along now, my dears," General Hardwick said, kissing his wife's cheek. "I want to have a word with Major Denton."

Mrs. Hardwick whispered something in his ear, and he nodded. As the two ladies hurried toward the doors to the state apartments, the general led Will to a bench near the stone wall.

"Colonel Brandeis tells us you behaved in an exemplary fashion these last few days," the general said. "You kept your men calm in a very tense situation."

"I was only doing my duty, sir," Will answered.

"Indeed, and doing it very well. We are in the midst of strange times, Major. We're threatened with the horrors of civil war, and everyone is on edge, are they not? There have already been some unfortunate actions in the north, I fear. It would only take one foolish movement, one misfired shot, to blow up this whole country. We cannot have
things happen in Kildare that we've heard of in Queen's, not so near to Dublin."

Will's jaw tightened. "Pitchcapping and flogging?"

"Yes, indeed. Terror is not the way to make people disarm and listen to reason. Instead it only drives them closer to those damned United Irishmen and away from what is good for them. Cool heads are what we need now, Major. Like your own."

"I hope I can be of service, General. My own family is in Kildare."

"Ah, yes. At Moreton Manor, is it not? A fine estate, so I hear. You have been commended, and I am sure you will be again. But we must all be very cautious these days. It would be fatal to trust the wrong people, have the wrong friends."

Will frowned. "What do you mean, General Hardwick?"

"Oh, nothing to concern a fine young man such as you, Major Denton. After so long in the West Indies, you surely know how small societies like to gossip. Lady Mount Clare has long been a favorite topic here in Dublin."

So that was it. He had been seen talking with Eliza and was being warned off. "Lady Mount Clare was a childhood friend. Moreton Manor is very near to Killinan."

"And Lady Killinan is, of course, above any suspicion. Her daughter, though—she is one to watch. Too clever and independent by half, a most unnatural woman." General Hardwick glanced toward the doors, where the hum of conversation grew louder. "I have been thinking of sending my wife and daughter to England for a time, merely as a precaution."

"Dublin would certainly miss their presence greatly," Will said absently, still thinking of Eliza.

"And I fear my Lydia would miss
you,
Major. She has talked of little else since our theater excursion."

Will looked at him, startled. He had been so preoccupied with Eliza, with their blossoming affair, that he had not thought of anyone else at all. Of looking to his future, as he must. "General Hardwick?"

The older man smiled at him. "A word of advice, if I may. The right wife, a lady who knows the ways of Society and the Army, can be of great value to a young man " rising in the world. And a great comfort at home. I have been content with my Hester these twenty years, and it is a blessing I would certainly wish for our dear daughter."

The general clapped Will on the shoulder before strolling to the doors. The green-liveried footmen leaped forward to open them, and Will was momentarily alone in the cool stone portico.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. This was surely not the time to think of marriage! But if it was, Lydia Hardwick would be perfectly suitable. Young, pretty, well connected. Just what would satisfy his family and aid his career.

And it would erase any suspicions of a dangerous friendship with the democratical Lady Mount Clare. He. could not let his family name down, could not cause a scandal and leave the Army.

It would be sensible, pragmatic—and entirely out of the question. A moment on the cusp of war was not one for practical betrothals. And he found he could not give up his stolen nights with Eliza. Could not give up the desperate chance to hold her, kiss her, and be near to her, just for a moment longer.

Eliza made him feel alive, as nothing ever had. Made the colors and light of the world brighter and more intense,
made him feel things as he never had before. It was as if he were frozen, until she touched him again, and then winter blazed into burning summer.

The doors to the courtyard opened on a blast of cold wind, and a laughing group hurried in, wrapped in their cloaks and scarves. One of them was Eliza.

She did not yet see him as she swirled off her cloak to reveal a gleaming gown of white satin and black velvet with the sparkle of diamonds. She shimmered like a goddess of light, a beacon luring him along a dark, stormy shore. Whether to salvation or doom on the rocky shoals, he did not yet know.

"I fear my plumes are entirely crushed," Anna cried. "Why must Queen Charlotte have her birthday in January when we all have to muffle up so tightly just to go out? It ruins our finery."

"Oh, Anna," Eliza said, laughing. 'The queen can be blamed for many things, perhaps, but not for when she was born. At least there is no danger of being overheated in these drafty state apartments, yes?"

Then she turned and saw him, her smile freezing on her lips. She curtsied slowly, her lashes sweeping down to cover any secrets in those dark eyes. "Major Denton. You have returned to Dublin, I see."

"Indeed I have, Lady Mount Clare, Lady Anna," Will said. He moved closer to her, reaching out to take her hand and raise it to his lips. Her fingers trembled in the thin kid gloves.

Ah-ha,
he thought. She had missed him after all.

"We missed you here in Dublin," Anna said, her gaze darting between them. "There has been a lack of fine dance partners, I fear."

"Then perhaps you would both honor me with a dance this evening," he said.

Eliza shook her head, smoothing the lace on her sleeve so she did not look at him. "I do not care to dance at these Castle affairs."

Perhaps she was right, he had to admit, despite his disappointment. It would do neither of them any good to have their "friendship" gossiped of even more. She would gather more attention, and he would disgrace his family and the Army. "Then maybe Lady Anna would dance with me."

"I am not so choosy as my sister as to where I dance, Major Denton, as long as I do dance," Anna said.

"I look forward to it, then." Will bowed to them once more before leaving them for the now-crowded gathering. He was soon surrounded by fellow officers and acquaintances, yet in his mind he still saw Eliza.

Eliza made her way through the gallery with her sister, their heeled shoes echoing on the cold floor of green Connemara marble. All the ladies' satin and silk gowns rustled like a forest of spring leaves, their laughter and chatter as loud as birds.

She murmured replies to greetings, even laughed at Anna's wry comments, but she could think of only one thing—Will had returned. She would have to be very careful in carrying out her plans tonight with him there watching her.

They emerged into the vast ballroom, which was lit by the blaze of Waterford crystal chandeliers set between the gilt-framed mirrors and the speckled marble pillars. High
above, soaring above the musicians' gallery and the gilded moldings, the ceiling was elaborately painted in incongruous scenes of the coronation of George III and St Patrick introducing Christianity to Ireland.

And below was a great courtly crush of satin, plumes, and pearls, velvet and diamonds, packed together to celebrate a faraway monarchy that cared little for this barbaric colony.

"Now I know I shall lose my feathers utterly," Anna said, straightening her tiara.

"Better that than your foot" Eliza said, snatching her toes away just before they could be crushed by an officer's pump. 'There are some chairs over there by the wall. Quick, Anna, let's claim them before someone else does!"

They rushed toward the last two empty gilt chairs, diving into them just before two other disgruntled ladies.

"Why ever do you keep coming to these things, Eliza?" Anna said breathlessly, fluffing at her skirts.

"If you want to find a husband to please Mama," Eliza answered, "we must come to Dublin Castle."

"I do not
want
to find a husband. Especially not one who comes here."

"No? To be sure, there are seldom any Russian princes, but I fear you may have to lower your sights just a hair, my dear. What sort of husband would you like?" Eliza scanned the crowd, seeking out each red coat and moving along when she found it was not Will. He had certainly seemed healthy and whole, but she had to be sure.

Lud, but she was a fool. He had merely been out on a marching drill. What would happen, how would she feel, when it came to a real battle?

Anna seemed unaware of her sister's inner turmoil, fanning herself languidly. "A handsome husband, of course. A man of sensitivity and passion! Of poetry."

"Mama would not like you marrying a poet"

"He would not have to be an actual poet, I suppose. Merely have poetry in his soul. Be open to life and all its wondrous possibilities."