Some Enchanted Waltz (26 page)
“Sir Ralph Ambercromby, Our Commander in Chief, I give you the Viscount and Viscountess of Glengarra.” Lord Bantry bowed to them. Tara nodded, as her husband did, and gave the General her hand, as Adrian had done.
The aging man looked upon her with kind eyes. “Enchanting, Dillon. My best wishes on your recent nuptials.” With that, the gallant General Ambercromby kissed Tara’s hand. Adrian led her away from the reception line.
Relieved to be past that hurdle, Tara gazed about the room, taking in the lavish costumes of the gentry. The soldiers wore their dress uniforms, yet the local lords and ladies wore elegant, imaginative costumes.
An ornate peacock glided past them in full plumage, her long trailing skirts swishing after her as the men in the room gazed after the exotic bird-woman. Tara glanced at her spouse, only to find his eyes fastened upon her, not the peacock, and they were filled with adoration. They wandered through the costumes arm in arm. There were several Grecian ladies and toga clad men, a Turkish Prince, a Russian Cossack, some fairy tale ladies that included beauty and her beast of a husband beside her, Rupunzel, a couple of princesses and a Gypsy dancer.
Adrian uttered a low oath as a short, squat little Indian Pasha sauntered up to them. He had shoe button eyes, and fat be-ringed fingers.
“Lord Dillon and your lovely bride. Pray, introduce us.” The blue silk turban head dipped as he bowed before them.
“My dear, this is Sheriff Burke. Sheriff Burke, I present to you Lady Dillon.” Adrian replied coolly.
Tara nodded, remembering Lady Fiona’s instruction that it was not necessary to curtsy to persons who held a title lower than hers or who possessed none at all.
“Enchanting creature.” The Sheriff had a curious glint in his eyes. “Did you conjure her from the mists, Dillon? A fairy queen enchanted by your promises of love, and you, my lord, a pirate, an dangerous outlaw prowling the countryside, terrorizing the loyal subjects of His Majesty, true to form, I see.”
Adrian’s body stiffened at the insinuation while Tara struggled not to betray her shock at his cutting reference. Adrian gave a deep, lusty pirate laugh. “And you, Harlan, the grasping, greedy, manipulative Indian Prince. I say, did Lady Anne choose your costume for you, or did you decide to come unmasked.”
“Not everyone hides behind a mask, my lord.”
“Give my regards to Elmira, Harlan. Perhaps someday we shall visit her and discuss her mother’s great lineage and the tragedy of Lady Gregory’s untimely death. Wouldn’t that be a pleasant afternoon?” Adrian’s tone was light yet menacing.
The Sheriff’s face grew mottled. His eyes darted about the room with worry.
“Excuse us, Harlan, the hunt has sharpened my appetite.” Adrian guided Tara away from the annoying little man.
“A friend of yours?” Tara whispered into his ear as they moved away.
“Hardly.” Adrian hissed. He began loading his plate with snacks as they moved down the table. “An adversary more to point. Burke was obsessed with the notion that I marry his daughter. He tried to blackmail me into it just this winter.”
Tara stopped, holding the silver utensil she was ladling canapés onto her plate with in mid-air. “Blackmail?”
“Madame. Keep your voice down.” He whispered sharply, placing a dainty petit four on her plate as he leaned close. He glanced about uneasily. Finding no one nearby he relaxed his tense stance and led her to the corner near the marble colonnades where chairs had been set up. “Burke thought he could garner his daughter a title through blackmail.” Adrian continued as they sat down. “I was his first victim. He made veiled threats regarding my loyalty to England being brought into question should I feel Elmira was beneath me.” Adrian gestured with his eyes to a short, plump brunette who looked like she would bounce if she fell down. She was chattering loudly with their host, Lord Bantry, while Sheriff Burke stood across the room sipping champagne, watching his daughter flirt with their host, Lord White. “As you can see, he’s moved on to the next victim.”
They sat in silence for a time, enjoying their snack. A tall officer came and made a low bow before them. “Might I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady? ”
“Well, I--?” Tara began, not certain how to phrase a refusal politely.
“Excellent.” Adrian took her plate from her and rose. “Lady Dillon would be delighted to dance with you.” Adrian gave her hand to the officer. Tara gave Adrian a killing look as the man led her out to the dance floor. Adrian smiled, obviously pleased at having raised her ire.
The officer was gallant, not mentioning her ill timing amid the barrage of truly gifted dancers swirling through the quadrille around them. When at last the dance over, Tara hoped to return to her husband’s side, and yet another man took the officer’s place.
Tara was about to protest when she looked up into the blue eyes of Jasper Sheares. “My lady.” He grinned as his arms went about her. To her horror, this was a waltz.
“I’m afraid I must warn you, sir, I am not the best dance partner.”
“One could only gaze at your beauty and forget they were dancing, my lady.”
“You are a scoundrel, sir.” Tara returned, oddly pleased by his flirtatious behavior. “Who are you tonight?” She swept over his elaborate clothing, the silk brocade jacket and matching breeches, the scarlet cape, and oversized musketeer boots, the ridiculous large hat with an ostrich plume, and the elaborate lace poking from the coat sleeves.
“Casanova, the world’s most famous lover.”
“Yet you choose to dance with a married woman.”
“Ah, but married women make the best lovers.” Jasper’s blue eyes gleamed.
She looked about the ballroom for Adrian. He was dancing with a lady dressed as a Greek Goddess--his mother. “And what happens when the lady’s husband finds out?”
“A duel would be fought at dawn, a perfunctory sort of thing to give the husband satisfaction, quite romantic, don’t you agree, Tara?”
“In that case, you should seek a woman who actually wants your attentions. I wish I could recommend someone, alas, I am so new to society.”
“Never fear, I’ll be around when the doldrums enter your marriage. You know where to find me.” He bowed before her, kissing her hand and then disappeared.
As she turned to find Adrian again, Tara found herself being solicited by still another admirer. Sadly, his face was marked, evidence of having suffered small pox as a child. “Lieutenant Saunders, at your service, Miss . . .?” He offered as the orchestra began the opening strings of another waltz. Apparently the dance was popular here, despite its forbidden status in London Society. And yet, Tara reasoned, the Irish were a little more free and easy when it came to having a good time.
Tara nodded, allowing the officer to lead her in the forbidden dance. Unlike Jasper Sheares, he adhered to the strictures of the dance, holding Tara at arm’s length.
“I am Lady Dillon.” She smiled, glancing over his shoulder to find her husband in the crowd. Adrian was on the sidelines, watching her as he leaned against a colonnade.
“Ah, The Viscount’s new bride. Charmed, my lady.” The officer replied. He was a very patient dancer as she stepped on his foot time and again. He merely smiled and said, “My intended is here, I only wish she could dance as well as you, My Lady.”
“And who is the fortunate young miss?”
The Lieutenant whirled her about, edging towards the other side of the room. As they neared Elmira Burke, Lieutenant Saunders gestured to the short, buxom brunette with his eyes.
“Ah, Miss Burke?” Tara responded with surprise.
“Aye, Ma’am.” The fair-haired man beamed at her with pride in his eyes. “I’m up for advancement. We’re hoping her father will accept my suit.”
As he whirled Tara away from Elmira and Lord White, Saunders explained. “Burke expects my ‘Mira to marry a title. He says it’s her due, as her mother was a grand lady. Still, we’ve made our plans. We’re off to America if he refuses my suit again. We’ve waited two years for him to come round. If not, ‘Mira and I agree; It’s America for us. We shall be married at sea.”
“You have my approval.” She informed him. So, while the sheriff was busy spinning his web of intrigue, his daughter had a beau hidden away in the army barracks. “Where are you stationed, lieutenant?”
“Bantry Town, Ma’am. When I’m off duty I manage to visit her at Glengarriff.”
“Lieutenant Saunders, I offer you all the best.” Tara smiled as Adrian cut in and whisked her away. Tara exulted in his possessive touch as they locked eyes.
“You seem pleased. Should I be concerned?” The silver eyes narrowed as his polite smile failed to reach them, “I warn you I am an expert marksman.”
“I wish to dance only with you, my lord.” Tara murmured, a rush of pleasure warming her as she gazed into his handsome face. His eyes registered fleeting surprise, which was quickly replaced by tenderness that made her heart melt like a chocolate bar left in the hot sun.
Adrian’s lips descended to extract a kiss from her as he whirled her about the dance floor. Whispers and snickers floated through the gathering as their kiss deepened. The music ended moments ago. Still, they were locked in a passionate embrace. Tara pulled her lips from Adrian’s, suddenly aware that all eyes were upon them. A single pair of hands clapping pierced the dead silence of the ballroom as Lord Bantry, their host, gave his hearty approval. Others joined in until the entire assemblage was applauding the lovers who stood in bewilderment at the scene they had caused.
“I say, Dillon.” Lord White chided in a merry tone. “’Tis a relief you’re married to the girl or my party would end with a duel at dawn.” The baron was laughing, as were the other men gathered about him watching them with amusement.
The formal dining room at Seafield House was dominated by copies of Allan Ramsay’s larger than life portraits of King George III and Queen Charlotte.
How fitting, Adrian mused as he sat in the enemy’s camp staring up at the carved gilt framed portraits of the English monarchy. His host, Richard White, a little known but wealthy landowner had only recently been raised to the Peerage as as the first Baron Bantry. ‘
For consideration of the zeal and loyalty displayed during the period of great trouble . . . for having repelled the French fleet entering the Bay of Bantry with intent toward invasion
’ or so said the official proclamation he and countless other titled lords received in March of last year.
Adrian found it disturbing that the man singularly responsible for warning the garrison at Bantry Town and thus interrupting the United Irishmen’s uprising some fourteen months ago should have massive portraits of Ireland’s conquerors hanging in his dining room to aid his digestion.
Adrian’s insides at the moment were in knots at being a lone patriot, albeit a secret one, in a staunchly loyalist gathering. He was dining with men who would have him hanged without a trial if they knew his loyalties were not in alignment with their own. Lords Clare, Knox, Lake, and yes, perhaps even his neighbor Lord White, a childhood companion four years his senior, might well see fit to execute him should they discover the extent of his involvement in the Fianna, a local branch of the United Irishmen.
Adrian appeared to be distracted with his charming bride, oblivious to the political conversations about him when in truth every fiber of his being was alert and aware of the heated debate at the far end of the table. Tara was breathtaking. He basked in her beauty all evening as she was twirled about the ballroom with one partner after another. Now was the time to lie in wait, to listen to the enemy’s banter and appear to be one of them.
“And where is the man whose blood would not boil with revenge to see the petticoat of his wife or sister cut off her back by the saber of a dragoon, merely for the crime of being green.” The loud outburst silenced the room with its acerbic tone.
As Adrian gazed down the table at the Protestant bishop as the man continued with his stinging diatribe. “The Bishop of Down reports seeing families returning home from mass assailed without provocation by drunken troops. Wives and daughters are being subjected to every species of indignity, brutality and outrage, from which neither he himself or other Protestant gentleman could rescue them.”
“We are aware that there are excesses,” Lord Kingsborough interjected in the now silent dining room. “This is not the place to discuss it, with ladies present.”
“I beg to differ.” Adrian heard Lady Anne say. “The dragoons were not constrained by the presence of ladies in County Down, why should the presence of ladies here stop the Lords of the Realm from addressing the problem of troop discipline. I’ve also heard accounts of gross atrocities against innocent people in the name of the King.”
“As have I.” Another lady agreed. “What is to be done when decent people live in fear of assault from drunken soldiers? Surely our noble King has no desire to see his subjects so ill used.”
Lord Darlrymple, the head of the Militia from Cork lifted his hands in protest. “Ladies, let me assure you that no such incidents have occurred in the region of Cork where I am stationed. We have a few loose cannons, true as in any military encampment. The incidents are rare and isolated to a few obscure locales.”
