Odette Speex: Time Traitors Book 1 (6 page)

Chapter 6

Odette wove her
way gracefully between the couples on the dance floor. She was a lovely sight. Cara had worked a miracle in only two short days and produced a gown of exquisite beauty. It was made of sea-blue silk and cut low across the bosom in a shirred bandeau-like neckline. The sleeves were small and capped just off the shoulders. The bodice fitted to a place directly above the waist. It was the skirt, however, that drew looks of surprise and envy. Cara had eschewed the fashionable narrow skirt and transparent materials for a full, flowing silhouette. The blue silk was intercut with the softest of gauze to create a rippling effect when in motion. Hip-high slits throughout the skirt gave the tantalizing impression that a flash of bare leg was imminent. Men watched in vain for a glimpse of prohibited flesh that never came.

For Odette the beauty of the garment was superseded only by its comfort and the freedom of movement it afforded her. “I can’t accept this,” she said with little conviction as Cara fitted it to her slim frame. “Besides, I’ve nowhere to wear it.”

“Nonsense,” Cara mumbled through a mouthful of pins. She sat back on her heels and stuck the remaining pins in her wrist cushion. “I heard Janie tell some of the girls that Lady Adelphia Montagu was providing a late supper for the company at the Chelsea Hotel.”

“Yes, but I won’t be going. I’m meeting Odell after the performance. I think we may be dining elsewhere.”

“Even better. He’s sure to take you somewhere fashionable. I couldn’t buy better advertising than you in this dress.”

Always the astute businesswoman, Cara had been right. But it wasn’t the dress alone that caused a stir. More than one pair of eyes admired the woman in it.

Odette finally reached the Ladies Lounge and Powder Room. Fortunately it was empty. She leaned heavily against the wall and closed her eyes. Her mind was awhirl. Odell and tequila didn’t mix.

Odette walked over to the large vanity with its art deco mirror and sat down on a cushioned stool. She picked up a warm, moist towelette from the steamer rack and pressed it to her temples.

“Are you alright, Odette?

She looked up startled and was relieved to see Lady Amelia, the Duchess of Montagu’s youngest daughter, walking toward her. “I’m fine… perhaps just celebrating a little too much. Thank you.”

Amelia sat down next to her. She looked nothing like her mother. She was fragile and small-boned like her father, the Duke. He was a diminutive yet extremely powerful member of the peerage. He and Adelphia made an odd pair. But rumors were their marriage was quite the passionate affair. Odette hoped it was true. She would want nothing less for Adelphia.

“Father and I saw only the first act, but it was brilliant,” she enthused. “Mother was so very pleased.”

“I’m glad.”

“We had to leave at intermission.” She made a little face. “Frances Cartwright was throwing a soirée at the water gardens. You’d think with the entire gardens at our disposal it would have been tolerable, but it was a terrible squeeze.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” Odette hated chatting about the
ton
and their frivolities but didn’t want to offend Lady Amelia. “From what I understand Miss Cartwright is the Toast of the Season.”

“Oh, she is very beautiful.” Amelia looked around furtively and lowered her voice, “But not very nice.” She glanced at Odette’s pale face and blushed painfully. “How stupid of me! Why should you care? Mother always says it’s the height of conceit to think everyone’s interested in the doings of the nobility. You look done in. Shall I get you a glass of water?”

Seeing her embarrassment, Odette smiled and patted her hand. “Really, my lady, I’m fine. And I’m never averse to hearing some idle gossip.”

Amelia smiled back at her. “Well, it was such a crush that Frances got up a group of us and left her own party to come here.”

Ah, thought Odette, so that’s what had caused the stir earlier, Frances Cartwright and her set. Certainly the Beauty of the season would set tongues wagging wherever she went.

Odette stood up. “Thank you for keeping me company, but I must get back to my brother.”

Amelia stood as well. “Your brother is here? Dr. Odell Speex?”

Odette noted the sudden interest and smiled inwardly. “Why, yes. He brought me here to celebrate after the performance.”

“Oh.” She smiled tremulously. “I saw him speak last fall. He’s quite brilliant. But I’ve never met him.”

“Would you like me to introduce you? We are seated just across from the dance floor.”

“Oh no, I really shouldn’t intru—”

“It is no intrusion. I assure you.” Odette linked arms with the nervous young woman and exited the lounge.

They had barely gone five steps when a familiar broad chest blocked her path. “Odette, I think that dress is a code violation.”

She looked up the long length of the man in front of her and met the eyes of the Earl of Westchester. They were dark and heavily lashed. It appeared as if nature had gifted him natural eyeliner.

Really, a man this vile shouldn’t have such lovely eyes.

“I believe I’m showing far less skin than most of the women here.” She countered as lightly as she could. From the corner of her eye she saw Odell walking casually toward them.

Drake smiled seductively. “It’s not what you’re showing, but what we all expect to see at any moment and don’t… a brilliant, yet frustrating design. You must compliment your friend Miss Mills for me.”

“You are mistaken. This is an Emile LaRoche design.”

Real amusement lit his face. “Ah, right, a LaRoche.”

“Lord Westchester.” Odell stopped beside her and bowed slightly to the other man. “An unexpected pleasure.”

“Speex,” Drake replied in a clipped tone, nodding.

Odette hurriedly intervened. “Lady Amelia, this is my brother, Dr. Odell Speex. Odell, I would like to introduce you to Lady Amelia, the Duke and Duchess of Montagu’s youngest daughter. She heard you speak last fall and was interested in meeting you.”

Odell bowed over the hand of the delicate young woman who bobbed a nervous curtsy. “A pleasure, Lady Amelia. I believe I noted your attendance at my lecture to the Ladies Benevolence Society.”

Amelia blushed at his recognition but replied steadily, “Yes, I was there. I was very interested in your thesis regarding the impact of pollution on the poor. Father is very keen on finding a solution for cleaner energy.”

“I find that going to the source of the problem is more effective,” he replied mildly. “A solution to the grinding poverty visited on the majority would perhaps have a more far-reaching impact.”

A broad smile lit up her face. “My mother’s words exactly.”

“Well, Speex, no doubt you’ve a remedy to recommend,” Drake interjected. “In the meantime,” he said smoothly as he turned to Odette. “I see you are unarmed with food or beverage. I presume it is safe to ask you for this dance.” He was at his most charming.

She couldn’t refuse without making a scene. “Of course,” she replied and was immediately swept out onto the dance floor. His large hand rested on the small of her back, and Odette felt the heat of it radiate through the thin material of her dress. She looked up into his face and was surprised to see his eyes partially closed and his head tilted a little. He loves to dance and was unexpectedly good at it, she realized.

For such a large man he was very agile. He took each turn and intricacy of the dance gracefully. He guided her with ease and she felt herself bend toward him pulled closer by his gravitational force. Odette relaxed further into his arms. She was easily caught up in music and motion. Her neck was supple and swayed gracefully to the side. She glanced up at him through her lashes.

Caution lit up her brain. She saw it, that gleam in his eye, that spark of deceit and self-satisfaction. It was quickly extinguished, but she had seen it. How easy to assume he was what he appeared to be. A society playboy, a man overindulged by wealth and privilege, a spoiled, overgrown boy in need of a steadying hand.

Odell had described something much worse. A man consumed with his own ego. Lord Westchester was the last of an ancient and noble family, one that had succumbed over two hundred years ago to hubris and vice. They had gambled away their vast fortune and wasted their wealth on corruption and dissipation. For generations afterwards, they clung to the outer circle of the peerage ignoring snubs and grasping at the last vestige of their faded prestige.

He had come to Odell with the remains of a family trust bequeathed to him by a distant maiden aunt. Help me, he had said, help me regain my family’s wealth and standing. It had seemed simple enough—an easy test for his new technology. Seventeen fifty-seven was not a particularly notable year. Nothing of great consequence had happened. But it was the beginning of the end for the noble house of Drake. The fifth earl, Lord Westchester’s grandfather many times over, began what was to become a legendary debauchery and sowed the seeds of his family’s destruction. Charles Drake just wanted to intercede and, with foreknowledge, stop his ancestor from wasting what could be used for good and progress.

It was a lie on a grand scale. Drake had wanted more than just a return to wealth and privilege. He wanted revenge. Revenge on a young country that had done more than any heedless aristocrat to end his family’s dominance.

She shook her head and looked away. The air this close to him was stifling with masculinity. “Can we stop, please? I need a breath of air.”

It goes without saying that even on the eighty-second floor of the tallest building in New York City, Charles Drake knew of a secluded spot. Odette’s stomach gave a sickening lurch as he twirled her out between heavy drapes and onto an elaborate stone balcony perched high above the city. They stopped dancing, but he still held her close.

It never failed to happen. They struck each other like flint on steel. Drake was in full-on smolder mode, and Odette was finding it hard to think. “You can either come home with me now, or I can embarrass us both on this balcony,” he demanded gruffly.

Odette stepped back against the high wall. She felt the cool marble against her arms and took a deep drought of the chill night air. Drake followed her and, putting a hand on either side of her head, leaned in close.

“La! But it’s hot in there,” trilled a soft voice.

Lord Westchester dropped his head forward and swore softly under his breath. Odette watched him struggle to compose his features before turning around. “Miss Cartwright,” he murmured politely and bowed over the young woman’s hand.

Frances Cartwright was very lovely. A tall, curvaceous blond, she glided out onto the balcony in a dress of virginal white. Her pale skin glowed in the darkness and her large blue eyes shone like a cat’s. “Oh!” She looked at Odette and brought a beautifully manicured hand up to her mouth. “I didn’t see you there.” Her gentle smile showed perfectly even, white teeth.

“Miss Frances Cartwright, may I present, Miss Odette Speex,” Lord Westchester formally introduced them.

Both women nodded to each other.

Frances Cartwright was younger than Odette. She was perhaps eighteen or nineteen. But in aristocratic circles, youth and innocence didn’t necessarily go together. Her dress may have been white, but that was the only thing virginal about it. The narrow skirt clung to her well-shaped legs, and the neckline draped daringly low between her ample breasts. The fact that she even knew of this hidden balcony spoke volumes. There was a good chance she had been here before, perhaps in the company of Charles Drake.

Like proper hypocrites, the nobility spouted platitudes to chastity while allowing themselves a good deal of sexual license. Sleeping with the brawny stable boy or bedding the lusty milkmaid were rites of passage for most young aristocrats. Birth control implants were inserted at the age of fifteen and only modified or removed for conception upon marriage within the peerage. Even after the wedding, depending on the inclination of the couple, bed hopping was not uncommon. The only truly vulgar act was to fall in love with someone of the lower orders.

Frances came up to Drake and laid a hand on his arm. She almost clicked into place beside him, like two pieces of a puzzle snapping together. Odette saw it clearly. They were the perfect society match.

She tilted her chin up charmingly. “Odette Speex. The ballerina?” Her smile turned brittle. “Really, Charles, can’t you leave off whoring for one night.”

Odette was stunned. Her mouth almost dropped open. She heard Drake rumble a mild reproof. Odette was a commoner and fair game for insults, but never would a truly well-bred lady have stooped so low. The girl looked at her with glittering eyes as if she had landed a biting rhetorical blow. Odette suddenly realized that Frances Cartwright was actually quite stupid.

The breath rushed out of her in a delicious laugh. To think of Drake leg-shackled to this shrew! What divine justice!

She put her hand to her stomach and breathed in deeply. She assumed a crude accent. “Well, me lady, never you mind your pretty little head over it. I always tells me girls, never take a tumble with the fancy ones. Like your Lord Westchester here. They gets around too much. Folks like us, we gotta be careful of diseases and all.”

Odette didn’t wait for their reaction, just turned on her heels and left. She emerged from behind the heavy brocade curtains and was immediately accosted by her brother. The color was up in her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled dangerously.

“Don’t hover,” she snapped.

He raised his eyebrows. “Is it pistols at dawn then?”

She gave a spurt of laughter. “Not unless you want to shoot a lady.”

This surprised him. Odell looked over her head and saw Lord Westchester enter the room with a beautiful young woman in tow. Drake looked none too happy.

“What happened?”

Odette waved a dismissive hand. “He contrived to get me alone, and Miss Cartwright took it upon herself to interrupt his ‘whoring.’ ”

Odell looked down at her and whistled quietly between his teeth. “She said that?”

She nodded and looked away. They had reached their table, and whatever had allowed Odette to breeze through the encounter with her head held high was dissipating quickly. She sagged into her chair and blinked her eyes rapidly.