Love Reclaimed (6 page)

Not the best prospect possible, but they were happy to have him noticing their daughter who had otherwise been languishing in relative obscurity. He rapped a smart tattoo on the door with the knocker and waited for the portal to open. A gray-haired, stout man dressed in simple black garb greeted him at the door.

“I’m here to collect Miss Blackstone for our outing.” Jonathan presented his calling card.

Taking the small square, the stoic man peered at the print and nodded. “Very good, my Lord.”

Stepping into the dim foyer, Jonathan paused to let his eyes adjust as the butler closed the door.

“This way please.”

Jonathan followed the servant into a garish parlor. Putrid green upholstery clashed with the decidedly blood-red walls, all of which was punctuated by spots of mustard fabric. The nightmare kaleidoscope was enough to put a man off eating. He shut his eyes against the visual assault as he waited for Miss Felicia Blackstone to join him. With any luck she would arrive with a promptness that failed most women.

“Good afternoon, Baron Heartfield.” Her soft voice served as a balm to his soul. He would be able to depart the torturous salon forthwith.

“And to you, Miss Blackstone. Are you ready for our drive?” He stepped toward her and escape.

“Mother thought we should have tea before we departed.” She stared at the floor, but could it be out of shyness, submissiveness, or to spare her daily punished eyes?

Dear God! Tea in the front parlor? He’d rather be drawn and quartered. “It’s a warm day. I thought we might stop by Gunter’s for an ice.”

Her face brightened as she raised her eyes. “Oh, that would be lovely. I am sure mother will understand.”

“Excellent, shall we?” He held his arm out for her while she rested her hand on his elbow with a delicate touch.

A short while later they sat on Berkley Square in the shade of the Plane trees, with their maple-like leaves. “How is your ice?”

“The lavender ice is delicious. How is the chocolate?”

“Very good.”

Silence reigned. Jonathan tried very hard not to dwell on the notion that if Marie sat at his side they would be chatting away as the old friends they were. Instead, he sat with a young woman whose intelligent eyes hinted at far more than her demure bearing offered.

“Have you been to the latest exhibit at the British Museum? There are some wonderful antiquities on display.”

“No, Mother and Father fear I will become too bookish should I entertain such pursuits.”

“I see. What do you do for entertainment?” He hoped she would not say shopping. He could not abide such flighty women.

“Shopping.” The word flew from her mouth as though she had to struggle to expel it from her lips.

His interest withered like a boiled noodle. “What precisely do you shop for?”

“Oh, dear.” She mumbled and shoved another scoop of ice into her mouth. She swallowed and glanced up at him and smiled. “Parasols. I have quite a collection of parasols.”

How strange she did not carry one with her at the moment and the freckles dusting her nose were unmistakable, a clear indication she did not carry a parasol. Peculiar. “Do you read?”

Her eyes widened at his sudden switch in topic. “Books?”

“Well, yes. For one thing.”

“I do.” Her hands clutched her empty ice cup as though she’d never let it go.

“I recently read a fascinating booklet ‘Practical Remarks on Aerial Navigation’ by Sir George Cayley. The author provided a wonderful discussion on the principles of flight. Can you imagine people soaring through the air like birds?”

Felicia smiled and let her hands relax around the dish. “That would be ever so amazing. How about Mr. Hancock’s steam phaeton? I saw him once in Hyde Park.”

Jonathan eased back into his seat and passed their ice cups off to the footman who came around to collect them. So, he’d found a bluestocking in debutante’s clothing. “I have a copy of his
Narrative of Twelve Years’ Experiments
and have taken a ride with him.”

“Oh! You’ve ridden in his steam machine? How exiting! What was it like?” Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks took on a rosy blush.

“It was a rather loud and juddering ride, but amazing nonetheless.” He took up the reins and steered them toward Hyde Park. “Perhaps we will run in to him today while on our drive?”

Who could’ve guessed she had a tinkerer’s soul? The rest of their drive she chatted about all things mechanical with an animation most women reserved for fashion. As they left the park to return to her house, she grew subdued again. It became clear her parents did not encourage her intellectual pursuits, and the typical men of their class would not wish to court a woman with such interests.

A small pang of guilt stabbed at his conscience since he knew he was not truly interested in courting her either. Damn Marie and her ridiculous stipulations. He had to prove to her once and for all they belonged together. Perhaps a night out would help her adjust to the notion. Maybe attending a masquerade would give her enough anonymity to relax and enjoy herself and help her see how well matched they were?

“Thank you for the enchanting afternoon.” The meek little mouse had replaced his animated companion and reminded him he was not alone.

“You are quite welcome. And, truly, don’t let your parents douse your interest in mechanical things.” He helped her alight from the carriage and escorted her to her door.

“Thank you, my Lord.” She curtsied and dashed through the door in a flurry of skirts.

If he wasn’t already in love, Miss Felicia Blackstone might have made a delightful companion despite her parents. He shrugged and climbed back into his vehicle. Heading home to change, he decided to stop by his club for dinner and some masculine companionship. Tomorrow he would make arrangements to treat Marie to a night she’d never forget.

***

Jonathan pulsed with excitement as he arrived at The Market. In his hand he clutched a feathered mask that matched the simple black one he wore. Before he could knock, the butler swung the door open and greeted him. “My Lord.”

“Good evening. Please tell Madame Marchander I am here.” He headed into the empty main salon and ordered a drink. Tilting his glass, he downed the amber liquid in one swallow. He enjoyed the penetrating warmth of the alcohol as he waited for Marie.

“Good evening, Heart.” Her melodious voice carried over to him from the left. She’d shortened his title, could it mean something? Perhaps she had softened toward him?

“Ah, you look bewitching as always.” He bowed to her.

“Please, join me in my office for a moment while I wait on Karen to bring my cloak.” She disappeared behind the tapestry that hid her office door.

Following her inside, he determined to take a moment to steal a kiss before they left for his surprise. She stopped and turned around to find him close behind. So close she ended up captured within his arms. Soft, feminine curves pressed against him in delightful contrast to his masculine form. His gaze drifted to her parted lips, and he swooped in to capture the pink softness. Delving past teeth to find her tongue and the warmth of her mouth, he slid his tongue over her inner landscape. Probing, exploring, tasting.

A sigh of a breath escaped her as she melted into him. His chest rumbled with the growl of desire he could not contain. Finally, he pulled away convinced if he did not end the kiss they would never make the evening’s entertainment. “Turn about so I can tie your mask.”

“A mask?” Marie sounded breathless from their kiss.

“I am taking you to the masked ball at Vauxhall. We shall have great fun eating and dancing in anonymity, and then we shall escape just before midnight and the big unmasking.”

She could not hide her delight, even as words to the contrary crossed her luscious lips. “We should not take such a risk. What if someone recognized us, even with the masks?”

“They will all be far too busy dancing and drinking to care who we are.” He placed the mask over her eyes and tied the ribbons behind her head taking care not to disturb her perfectly styled hair.

“Very well. We shall go. But I warn you if we recognize anyone I shall insist we leave.”

“We will consider the options should the need arise. I have a private dining box reserved for us.” A knock on the door preceded Karen’s entry with said cloak.

Jonathan took the garment and slipped it over Marie’s shoulders. Arm in arm they left the office and then The Market.

Alone in the carriage, Marie looked at Heart.
When had he become Heart and not Heartfield
?
And what possessed this bit of lunacy of his
? “Why the masked ball?” Her question broke through the comfortable silence.

“I’m selfish. I want to see you dance and smile as you once did at the balls we attended. Before I left….”

“I have not danced like that in many years, but I will endeavor to enjoy myself to the fullest this evening.” Her smile felt freer than any she’d granted in the last four or five years. The weight of being the perfect hostess and mistress lifted from her shoulders in an unexpected twist.

The carriage halted and Heart, because he was still her heart after all this time, assisted her in exiting the vehicle. Arm in arm, they found their way down the shadowy winding paths through the flora and fauna from which Vauxhall Gardens received its named. The ball was already a crush. They surged through the crowd, hands linked. Arriving at their box, Heart swept her to safety and into his arms again. He straightened her mask, which had been knocked askew during their dash through the press of people. Then, he kissed her. A swift brush of lips before the service door opened and their waiter arrived.

A lavish six-course meal left them secluded in their semiprivate box, free to touch and caress each other at will.

“I remember the time you broke your arm trying to ride your father’s stallion.” Heart grinned, letting his gaze rest on her face as he drifted back in time.

“I was so determined I had outgrown my pony. Papa grew terribly angry with me.” An ache in her chest took up residence. “That happened before the gambling problem started. Or perhaps he just had it under control then. Who’s to know what was happening.”

“I’m sorry, Marie. I did not mean to bring up painful memories.” Concern creased his brow above the mask.

“No, don’t apologize. I love remembering good times, even if there are negative memories associated.” She patted his hand that lay on the table between them. “Perhaps it is time we danced?”

“I think it is.” He rose, held out his hand to assist her, and led her onto the floor as a waltz struck up.

Feeling the strength of his arms about her, she reveled in the moment of contentment. Then he swept her into the music and they whirled around the dance floor. They danced song after song, never leaving the floor. Enjoying themselves immensely, they lost track of the hour and before they knew it, the reveal waltz floated across the assembly. Every so often, partners were swapped and passed from one person to another. At the end of the song the clock struck midnight and Marie realized they had stayed too long. She found herself in the arms of a man who unabashedly leered at her bosom. He pulled off his mask, revealing a drunken Lord Bethany.

The fates were not only against her, but had conspired to punish her for some perceived slight.

On the ran-tan, he reached for her mask with an unstable hand and tried to pull it off. She smacked the appendage away, refusing to reveal herself.

“Come now, love, show me your face so I can get my due.” He swayed toward her and then stumbled back pulling her with him. Bracing himself, he grabbed her breast and smiled as he stabilized. “Well, now that’s nice, too.”

“Unhand me, you bug hunting nobbler!” She slapped his hand away, but in the melee knocked her mask off.

“I know you! Madame Marchander!” He announced so loud those around them turned to gawk at the disturbance.

Feeling as exposed as she had the night of her auction, she cringed away from the drunken fool, but he would have none of it.

He gripped her arm with brutish strength and pulled her against his pudgy body. His hand dove down the front of her bodice to fondle her breasts. His beefy limb didn’t quite fit resulting in his own thwarted frustration. He jerked his hand back tearing the dress so it drooped and left her corset exposed. “I’ve never had such a fine piece as you.” He proceeded to attempt a kiss.

His moist mouth crashed down on hers. Shocked, she opened her mouth, allowing him to swipe at her with his tongue. She struggled to push him away, to no effect. Then he vanished. Staggering back, she looked up to see an avenging angel in the form of Heart. Mask gone, he landed his fist square in the sot’s face leaving him out cold on the floor of the ballroom. Everyone around them stared in shock as he turned and took her hand. Silent, he led her away from the scene and into his carriage.

“I-I…” she stammered at a loss for words.

The carriage moved out posthaste as he pulled her into his arms. “I am so very sorry, my dear. By the time I realized the time, the music began playing and someone had whisked you away. I looked for you but couldn’t find you before the music ended.”

Moist tracks of tears dampened her face as she pulled away from his chest. “You must not blame yourself.” She sniffed. “I did not realize either. And who could have predicted I would end up with that horrible Lord Bethany?” She shuddered.

“I should have been there. Are you sure you are well?” He looked her over and noticed the state of her bodice. “That dirty whoreson. He molested you?”

“Not very successfully. Between his drunken state and my tightly laced corset he merely managed to tear my dress, which can be repaired.” She glanced down at the ruined fabric. “Or at least I hope it can be mended.”

Heart’s jaw ticked with repressed anger lending him a menacing air. “I’d very much like to go back and thrash the rotten bastard.”

Deep inside Marie thrilled at the protectiveness he displayed. Despite that, she tried to temper her words. “I don’t believe that will be required.”

“It might not be required, but it would bring me deep satisfaction.” He pulled her closer to him again and held her until they arrived at The Market.