Prince Charming (7 page)

Milton Thompson caught her eye. Taylor motioned to the young man. He came running. A scant minute later, Catherine was being escorted onto the dance floor.

She looked radiant. She was giggling and flirting and once again acting like a fifteen-year-old.

Taylor was content. The feeling didn't last long. Where was her escort? She decided she would circle the ballroom, being sure to make a wide arch around her cousin, of course, and if she came up empty-handed, she would simply leave. She had arrived fashionably late and would leave fashionably early. She had smiled enough for one evening, and Grandmother would never know she only stayed fifteen or twenty minutes. Yes, Madam would approve of her performance.

Taylor was waylaid from going anywhere by three well-meaning friends. Alison, Jennifer, and Constance had all attended Miss Lorrison's School of Charm and Scholarly Pursuits with Taylor. They had all been fast friends ever since. Alison was a year older than the others, and for that reason alone, she believed she was far more sophisticated.

She led the procession over to Taylor. Alison was tall, a bit ungainly, and had dark blond hair and hazel-colored eyes.

“Darling Taylor, you look beautiful tonight,” she announced. “I do believe I look drab just standing next to you.”

Taylor smiled. Alison called everyone darling. She believed it made her appear to be more sophisticated. “No one can make you look drab,” she replied, knowing instinctively that was what Alison wanted to hear.

“I do look lovely, don't I? The gown is new,” she went on to explain. “It cost Father a fortune. He's determined to get me married this season even if it bankrupts him.”

Taylor found Alison's honesty refreshing. “I'm certain you could have your pick of any gentleman here.”

“The only one I'm interested in won't give me a single glance,” Alison confessed.

“She's done everything possible to gain his attention,” Jennifer interjected. She reached up to pin a strand of her brown hair back into her coiled braid before adding, “She could try swooning in front of him, I suppose.”

“He probably wouldn't catch her,” Constance said. “Do leave your hair alone, Jennifer. You're making a mess of it. And put on your spectacles. Squinting makes wrinkles around the corners of your eyes.”

Jennifer ignored Constance's suggestions. “Alison's father would have heart palpitations if that man did pursue her.”

Constance nodded agreement. Her short, curly bob bounced in reaction. “He's quite the bad boy,” she told Taylor.

“Boy? Darling, he's a man,” Alison chided.

“A man with a black reputation,” Constance countered. “Taylor, do I look all washed out wearing a pink gown? Jennifer said my red hair and freckles don't go at all well with any shade of pink, but I was so partial to this fabric . . .”

“You look beautiful,” Taylor replied.

“He does have a black reputation,” Alison admitted. “And that, you see, is what intrigues me about him.”

“Melinda told me she'd heard he's taken a different woman to his bed every single night this past week alone,” Constance interjected. “Can you imagine? He can have anyone he wants. He's very . . .”

“Seductive?” Alison suggested the description.

Constance immediately blushed. “I'll admit there is a certain raw appeal about him. He's so . . . huge. His eyes are simply divine. They're a dark, dark brown.”

“Who are we talking about?” Taylor asked, her curiosity caught.

“We don't know his name yet,” Alison explained. “But he's here tonight, and he isn't leaving until I get an introduction. There is something sinfully erotic about him.” She paused to wave her fan in front of her face. “I declare he makes my heart skip.”

Taylor suddenly noticed Jennifer was frowning at her and giving her what she could only conclude was a pitying look. “Is something the matter, Jennifer?” she asked.

“Oh, Taylor, it's so terribly brave of you to come here tonight.”

Alison smacked Jennifer on the shoulder with the edge of her fan. “For God's sake, Jennifer, we said we wouldn't bring up her humiliation.”

“Now you've done it,” Constance snapped. “Shame on you for being so thoughtless. Taylor, is your heart breaking?”

“No. I really . . .”

She wasn't given time to say more. “Rumor has it that Jane's carrying his child,” Jennifer whispered. “The two were carrying on all the while he was courting you.”

“Did you really need to bring that up?” Alison asked.

“She has a right to know,” Jennifer argued.

“We didn't know,” Constance interjected. “We would have told you, Taylor. We never would have let you marry such a scoundrel.”

“I really don't want to talk . . .”

Once again Taylor was interrupted before she could finish her thought. “He's here, you know,” Jennifer informed the group. “I saw Jane grab hold of his arm the minute Taylor walked in. She hasn't let go of him yet. William Merritt should be hung for his sins.”

“I really don't want to talk about him,” Taylor said.

“No, of course you don't,” Alison agreed. “Mark my words, darling. The time will come when you'll realize how fortunate you were to be jilted.”

“We shall stand by your side for the rest of the evening,” Constance pledged. “If anyone tries to say anything thoughtless, I shall personally give him or her a setdown. You have my word, Taylor.”

“Thank you,” Taylor replied. “But I'm not so thin-skinned. You don't need to worry anyone's going to hurt my feelings. I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, of course you can,” Alison told her in a pitying tone of voice.

“Do you still have feelings for him?” Jennifer wanted to know.

“No. As a matter of fact I . . .”

“But of course she has feelings for him. She hates him,” Constance decreed.

“No, I don't . . .” Taylor began again.

“Love and hate go hand in hand,” Jennifer explained. “I believe she should hate all men in general and William Merritt in particular.”

“I don't believe hating anyone will solve . . .”

“But of course you must hate him,” Constance argued.

Taylor decided it was high time she gained control of the conversation and turned the topic. “I've written long letters to all of you with important news,” she blurted out before she could be interrupted again.

“Whatever for?” Alison asked.

“News? What news?” Constance demanded.

Taylor shook her head. “You'll have to wait until tomorrow. You'll receive your letters by late afternoon.”

“Tell us your news now,” Jennifer insisted.

“You're being very mysterious,” Constance remarked.

“I don't mean to be mysterious,” Taylor replied. “Sometimes it's easier to write down what I want to say rather than . . .”

“Spill it out, Taylor,” Alison demanded.

“You cannot leave us hanging like this,” Constance interjected.

“Are you going away?” Jennifer asked. She turned to Constance. “People always write letters when they're going away.”

Taylor was sorry she'd mentioned the letters. “It's a surprise,” she insisted.

“Now you've got to tell us,” Alison said. “You aren't leaving this ballroom until you do. I won't be able to sleep until I've heard this mysterious news.”

Taylor shook her head. The look on Alison's face told her she wasn't going to let the matter drop. Constance inadvertently came to Taylor's rescue. She spotted Lady Catherine on the dance floor, recognized the sapphire necklace around her neck, and immediately demanded to know why she was wearing Taylor's jewelry.

Taylor took her time explaining her reasons for giving the jewels away.

Lucas watched her from across the ballroom. He was penned in by a crowd of men who took turns plying him with questions about life in America. He was amused by some of their obvious prejudices, irritated by others. The Englishmen all seemed to be fascinated by the Indians. Had Lucas killed many?

He patiently answered the less offensive questions but kept looking at his timepiece every other minute. He didn't particularly care if he was being rude or not. When midnight arrived, he was leaving. Lucas rechecked the time, noted he only had a few more minutes left, and then went back to answering the men. He was in the middle of explaining that his ranch was surrounded by mountains and that the Sioux and the Crow allowed him and his brothers to share their land when he spotted the son-of-a-bitch heir to the family fortune shrug off his wife's hand and head for Taylor. His new bride chased after him.

Taylor spotted him, too. She looked ready to bolt. Lucas watched her bend to lift the hem of her skirt, then suddenly let go and straighten up again. She had obviously decided not to run after all.

No one was going to know the panic she was feeling, not even her dearest friends. Taylor made that vow and smiled until her face felt brittle.
The humiliation.
She knew that was what everyone was calling the cancellation of her wedding. They all expected her to act humiliated, she supposed. Well, by God, they were going to be disappointed.

Alison was going on and on about something or other, but Taylor wasn't paying any attention. She didn't want to injure her friend's feelings, however, and so she pretended great interest. She nodded whenever Alison paused for air and kept right on smiling. Taylor could only hope she was telling an amusing story and not a tragic one.

They were getting closer. William was weaving his way around the couples on the dance floor. Jane was in hot pursuit of her husband.

Taylor might have been able to control her panic if she hadn't seen the expression on her cousin's face. Jane looked livid. When she was in a cheerful mood, she was a little malicious, but when she was angry . . . it was simply too chilling to think about.

Taylor thought she was going to be sick. Oh, Lord, she simply couldn't do it. Her noble intention to stand firm hadn't lasted more than a minute or two. She really was going to run. She had neither the strength nor the inclination to be civil to her cousin. Cousins, she silently corrected. Her ex-fiancé was related by marriage to her now.

Oh, yes, she was going to be sick all right.

Lucas saw the panic in her eyes, stopped his explanation about the Indians in midsentence, and pushed his way through the throng of men surrounding him. Both Morris and Hampton followed him as he headed across the ballroom.

“Taylor, what in heaven's name are you doing?” Alison demanded in an appalled tone of voice.

“She's taking great gulps of air,” Constance said. She frowned over her own observation and leaned closer to Taylor in an attempt to understand her mysterious behavior.

“But why is she breathing like that?” Jennifer asked.

Taylor tried to calm herself. “I believe I should leave now,” she began.

“You only just got here,” Jennifer argued.

“Yes, but I really think I . . .”

“Dear heavens, he's coming over here.”

Alison made the comment in a fluster and immediately set about straightening the sleeves of her gown.

Constance peeked around Alison, let out a gasp, and then turned back to Taylor. “Oh, wait until you meet him,” she whispered. “Even though Mama has declared he's a sinfully bad man, I must admit he has the most adorable drawl.”

“How would you know?” Jennifer asked.

“I heard him talking to Hampton,” Constance explained.

“You were eavesdropping,” Jennifer accused.

Constance nodded. “Yes,” she admitted quite cheerfully.

Taylor was slowly backing away from her friends. She glanced over her shoulder to judge the distance to the entrance. Freedom, she decided, was a good thirty feet away. If she could just get to the steps, she could . . .

“Taylor, you simply must speak to the man,” Alison insisted.

“Have you all gone crazy? I will not speak to him. Why, there isn't a thing adorable about William Merritt.”

Taylor fairly shouted that statement of fact. Her friends all turned to look at her.

“William? No one mentioned William,” Constance said.

“Do come back here, Taylor,” Alison demanded.

“Oh, dear, William's on his way over, too,” Jennifer announced in a low whisper. “No wonder Taylor's trying to sneak away.”

“I'm not trying to sneak away,” Taylor argued. It was a blatant lie, of course, but she'd go to her grave before admitting her cowardice. “I just want to avert a scene. If you'll excuse me, I . . .”

Constance grabbed hold of her arm to stop her from leaving. “You can't sneak out,” she whispered. “It would make you appear to be quite pitiful, Taylor. We can't have that. Simply ignore him. Alison, will you quit gawking at that man?”

“Someone really must introduce me,” Alison insisted once again. She was violently swinging her fan in front of her face.

“Morris might introduce you,” Jennifer suggested. She backed up a space so she wouldn't be injured by Alison's fan, then added, “Isn't he beautiful?”

She asked the question with a long, drawn-out sigh. Alison nodded agreement. “Men are handsome, darling, not beautiful, but I do believe this one is both. God, he's huge, isn't he? I fear I'm becoming faint-hearted just looking at him.”

Taylor was diligently trying to get Constance to unhand her. She finally managed to pull free and was just about to pick up her skirts again and run for her life when she happened to spot the man Alison and the others were carrying on about.