Lady Iona's Rebellion (23 page)

“I am but your servant, my lady. What do you wish of me?”

“The truth will suffice. If you can manage it.”

He merely raised a brow.

“What did you do?” she asked, her eyelids fluttering with agitation.

“What did I do
when
, my lady?”

“Today, today,” she snapped. “What did you do?”

He frowned as he thought for a moment. “What…did…I…do?” he asked slowly. “I did a goodly number of things. I doubt you want a recitation of my day however. Perhaps you should be more specific?”

“To him.” She waved her arm in a broad motion and then sighed deeply. “What did you do to upset him?”

He tried to discern whom she was indicating with that vague gesture. He spotted his father engaged in quite a heated discussion with the Master of Ceremonies. The Marquess’s round face was taking on a pinkish tinge. Mr. King listened with a sour expression twisting his lips while shifting from one foot to the other as if his pantaloons had suddenly shrunk several sizes.

His father often had such an effect on others. It was easy to imagine the list of complaints being thrust upon the hapless Master of Ceremonies. The music was likely too loud. The seats too hard. And the sandwiches dreadfully dry.

The last item Nathan felt tempted to complain about himself. He’d never tasted a worse sandwich in his life. Chewing on sand would have been more enjoyable.

“The Marquess does appear to be in a bit of a temper,” he admitted. “But there is nothing unusual about that, is there?”

“Are you being purposefully obtuse?” she demanded.

For the second time that evening he was being accused of such a crime, which made him wonder—was he being purposefully obtuse?

“I do not believe so,” he concluded. “My mind has certainly been crowded with many matters lately. I would be surprised if I were able to keep them all straight.”

“
Edward
,” she said with a huff. “Edward has been acting damnably odd all day. I vow I caught him pouting in the upstairs parlor while downing a whiskey. He never drinks whiskey. I cannot imagine what has gotten into him. So tell me, Nathan, what…did…you…do?”

“I have not even spoken to my brother today.”

Maryanne tapped her toe on the marble floor and glared.

“Believe what you will, my lady,” he said and slashed a hand through the air. “You will anyhow. Nothing I could say will change that.”

“You must have done something, for when I questioned him he blamed you for his ending up in the dumps.”

“Indeed?”

“Said you were trying to ruin his life,” she insisted, which was rich considering all Nathan had done to protect his brother over the years.

“I assure you, madam,” he said sharply, “Edward is doing a fine job making himself miserable all on his own.” He pushed away from the post he’d been leaning against. “Good evening to you.”

Maryanne grabbed his arm. “Is his recent mood somehow connected with Miss Posey Hartfield? Is her death somehow coming back to haunt him?” she whispered the question.

The blood drained from his head at the mention of Miss Hartfield’s name. He pried her fingers from his arm and then tugged on his waistcoat while trying to hold onto his detached, devil-may-care demeanor. “Ancient tragedies are best left in the past,” he said. “Good evening.”

The musicians began tuning their instruments again, signaling the approach of the concert’s second half. Nathan didn’t intend to stay.

His nerves were growing too sharp. He wouldn’t be able to remain beneath the
ton
’s disapproving glares and hope to hold onto his sanity. Everyone in the room, save for Iona, appeared to be watching him with an overly eager attentiveness. One mistake on either Iona’s or his part could thrust their secret relationship into society’s bright glare.

He made a quick detour to the punch bowl. One question needed to be answered before he could rush out into the night.

“I hope you are pleased with yourself,” Edward said before Nathan had gotten much beyond a pleasant greeting. “She is leaving in the morning.”

Nathan didn’t dare hope his brother was referring to his actress-turned-mistress.

“She says she doesn’t want to see me ever again,” Edward said before Nathan could ask. “I assume this is your doing of course.”

“I assure you it is not. This is the talented Miss Darly we are speaking about?”

“Who else!” Edward winced at his own outburst. He lowered his voice considerably. “The music is starting. It’s time we return to our seats.”

“I am leaving. Please offer Mother and Father a good evening for me,” he said as he headed toward the door. A bit of satisfaction quickened his step. Miss Darly must have come to her senses, clever girl. She was leaving Bath—and Edward—in the morning and it hadn’t cost him a dime.

And Iona…

He paused at the door and turned around to take one last look. The orchestra had started. The first few strains of Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata
were filling the space with a deep range of minor chords that conjured images of the dark night sky despite the brightly lit chandeliers above him. He spotted Iona near the front of the audience. She’d leaned back in her chair, her head tilted to one side, her eyes closed. She appeared to have lost herself within the sensual language of the notes.

Her delicate features might not rival the stunning beauty of her sister’s but there was a quiet calm surrounding Iona that enticed Nathan like none other. What in blazes was he going to do about her?

* * * * *

He hadn’t even seemed to notice the change. Iona pounded her pillow and tossed in her bed until her linens tangled her into submission.

At first he’d sat so close that his honey and pine scent had threatened to melt her into a puddle on the floor. Unable to speak a word with him or exchange even a passing glance for fear of betraying the tumultuous emotions tumbling through her body, she’d been forced to suffer through the first half of the concert with her back pressed into the ladder-backed chair while biting the inside of her cheek in order to ensure her rage remained silent.

Nathan’s presence had so filled the room she hadn’t heard one note of music until after the intermission. His abrupt disappearance from the tearoom was worse than his sitting far too close and tempting her senses to distraction in the first place.

Oh, he didn’t leave the concert right away either. She had sensed his lingering presence all too easily. The bounder had stood off to one side. Having sought out the shadows, he had leaned against a cursed post as if his strength was needed to hold up the entire building. And never once had he seen fit to look her way.

She could have stripped off her gown and he probably still would have kept his gaze trimmed on some faraway point high on the ceiling.

It was infuriating…
He
was infuriating.

She hadn’t expected to make the world come to an end with her newfound confidence. But a little recognition, a comment here or there would have been appreciated.

And not just from Nathan. No one seemed to take any notice of her sudden change in personality. Not one brow had been raised by the reckless way she’d held her glass, or that she’d eaten a piece of teacake without first removing her gloves.

Only Mr. Harlow seemed to be conscious of her actions and she already knew the reason for his single-minded attentiveness only too well. He wanted to seduce her. She could read the heat of his longing in the way his shifty green gaze roamed all over her body.

She was a wealthy prize worthy to be won by him, wasn’t that what he had claimed?

She abused her pillow some more.

Tomorrow she would simply have to be more direct.

Her cousin would soon be in Bath. If she didn’t learn how to express her passions in a more forceful manner she would find herself married to him in short order. Tomorrow, at the Victory Gala, she would have to do something spectacular. A stunt so daring that no one, not even Nathan, would dare think of her as the obedient daughter ever again.

A tear slipped down her cheek. Since she’d never done anything like this before, she had no way of knowing if her family’s love could withstand the stress of her willful disobedience.

Despite the uncertainty, she knew that if she were going to chase after her dreams, she would have to risk everything, including her family.

A terrible gamble to be sure. But to do nothing, to continue to live a lie, she risked losing something even more vital—she risked losing herself.

C
hapter Sixteen

The rumors were getting out of hand. Everyone in Bath seemed to be dissecting Nathan’s every move, in search of a clue, no matter how small, to this mysterious young lady he supposedly ruined.

The worst of it came just that morning when three young ladies followed him down the street, giggling and pointing and making a general nuisance of themselves. Because of them, he was forced to cancel a discreet visit to Jane’s apartment.

Instead he dashed off a note to her, begging her pardon and promising that he would present her with an answer to her proposal at tonight’s Victory Gala.

What he planned to tell her, he didn’t know.

Every reasonable bone in his body told him to accept fate and marry her. She was comely and rich and seemed fond of him.

With his family growing more distant every day and Iona more daring, he knew he needed to make a change in his life and soon. Staying in Bath promised to become unbearable.

Knowing that Iona was going to attend the Victory Gala, along with the rest of Bath, nagged at him like an irritating itch. She had promised to allow him to escort her.

But now that would be impossible. Society was watching him too closely, waiting anxiously to attach a name to the mysterious young lady he reportedly ruined.

He had ruined her. And he wanted to do the right thing. He wanted to marry her. He didn’t understand why she continued to refuse him. Perhaps she was ashamed of his reputation. She’d come to him because he was considered a dangerous rogue and because she was bored and looking for a bit of adventure. He’d obliged her only too well. She was lucky to have escaped with her good name intact, even if she had lost her innocence along the way. He should hate himself for taking that from her but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself regret the one night they had shared. He only regretted that he was going to have to face a lifetime of lonely nights without Iona.

Any kind of future, especially marriage, appeared to be impossible for the two of them. His reputation was far too stained. He’d once thought Iona’s proper manners and pristine family name could save him. But he now understood that to link her name with his would bring her only unhappiness. He had nothing to offer a lady but social ruin.

If he loved her, he was going to have to let her go.

* * * * *

Nothing short of perfection would do for what Iona had planned for this evening. She’d already decided to wear her best gown, a vivid Sardinian blue crepe dress with an empire waist and a bodice studded with shimmering crystals. The neckline plunged daringly low and the back was nearly indecently bare.

While the steely blue ribbon she owned might have gone well with the simple willow green cotton walking dress Iona was presently wearing, it lacked a certain flair.

And flair was what she needed for tonight. Not only was she plotting to prove to society that she wasn’t a wilting flower, she also planned to attempt her first seduction.

With that in mind, she returned to Mrs. Langdon’s Milliner and Fabric Shop on Milsom Street. Lillian and Amelia were only too happy to accompany her.

Mrs. Langdon, a tiny woman with her white hair tucked up in a tight bun and wearing a sturdy high-collared tobacco brown dress, paused in front of Iona. She’d been rushing from one end of the counter with her arms piled with a variety of cream and blush colored laces.

“If you are looking for something special, my lady,” Mrs. Langdon said, giving an easy smile that never failed to remind Iona of her own overly generous grandmother, “I believe I might have just the ribbon.” Much to the chagrin of the rest of the patrons, she set aside the laces in her arms and disappeared below the counter. When she reemerged, a length of iridescent silver ribbon was drawn reverently across her stiff fingers. The sight of it took Iona’s breath away.

The ribbon glistened like nothing she’d ever seen and once seeing it, she knew no other hair ribbon would do.

“It is lovely,” Lillian said, her bonnet bouncing as she tried to snatch the ribbon out of Mrs. Langdon’s grasp. “I will take a yard as well.”

“I am sorry, my dear Lady Lillian, but this is all I have,” Mrs. Langdon said, spilling the metallic ribbon into Iona’s gloved hands for her to inspect.

“But I must have it!” Lillian insisted. Her lips trembled and her eyelashes fluttered. Iona recognized the warning signs. Her sister was on the verge of throwing a royal tantrum, which was cause enough for alarm.

Only a month ago, Lillian had shrieked like a madwoman when their father refused to purchase an expensive bolt of lavender silk she’d insisted she simply could not live without. Though the material would have made a lovely dress, her father’s refusal over the cost was nothing to lose one’s temper over.

Nor was this ribbon.

Unfortunately Lillian rarely shared Iona’s opinion on such matters. A nervous grin plastered itself to Miss Amelia Harlow’s thinning lips as she pretended to be engrossed in a nearby display of bonnets. The girl’s fingers trembled as she ran them over one of the bonnets’ pink-and-white-striped banding. Even Mrs. Langdon appeared to be holding her breath, waiting for what promised to be a horrendous explosion.

With a huff, Iona started to hand over the enchanting ribbon. Perhaps it would be better to do without than to let her sister embarrass the family in front of such a large crowd. Was that not how things were expected to go?

“No,” she said and surprised even herself. “I
will
purchase this ribbon. It will work well with my gown.”

She would not give in to her sister’s terror tactics. Her adventures had taught her one thing—her desires were important too.

“Lillian, compose yourself,” she said sternly and gave her sister a sharp pinch. “There are plenty of other ribbons. You do not need mine.”

Closing her eyes for a moment, she waited for the world to collapse all around Lillian’s temperamental head. What happened though, Iona could only describe as a miracle. Lillian did not shriek or scream. Though her quivery lips continued to tremble, she held her chin as stiffly as Iona had ever seen, and she kept silent.

For the first time in a very long time, Iona reveled in the power of her own voice. She’d stood up for herself. And her wishes had been heard.

It appeared her rogue’s lessons had indeed had a positive impact. If only she could be as forceful with her parents. Perhaps, with practice, things would change.

Her heart fluttered as she paid Mrs. Langdon’s assistant for the ribbon and waited for the overtaxed miss to wrap it in a paper package.

Tonight was indeed going to be spectacular.

* * * * *

Nathan waited underneath a cedar tree across the patio from the Sydney Hotel and watched the finely garbed ladies and gentlemen as they entered Sydney Gardens.

Two orange oriental lanterns bounced on their strings in the trees several feet above the top of his shiny beaver hat. Tiny bells attached to the lanterns tinkled in the light breeze.

A few bright stars appeared high in the sky as twilight sank into the night. The dimming of sunlight welcomed the return of the midnight shadows where the most delicious and dangerous secrets hid.

He inhaled the cooling air. Thanks to Iona, he’d found a renewed appreciation for the darkness. A wry smile crept onto his mouth when he spotted her. She was with her family of course. With her arm threaded through her sister’s, she strolled onto the patio, smiling and nodding to acquaintances.