Spring Fires (49 page)

September 6, 1793

"Where could he be?" the comtesse de Louviers
hissed under her breath. The ballroom of Carleton House was growing uncomfortably warm; many of the guests had wandered out into the gardens or to the sumptuous tables of food in the Gothic Conservatory. The Prince of Wales had made his entrance more than an hour ago, which meant that Nicholai was disrespectfully late. This might be her last chance to change his mind and recapture his love. If only that Austrian harlot would give up and go home!

Gabrielle's leaf green eyes were venomous as she stared at the woman who was dancing with the prince. Tonight, Giselle Amstetten appeared more enchantingly beautiful than ever. A stunning gown, fashioned of sapphire velvet, emphasized her slender waist, high rounded breasts, and elegant neck. Deep ruffles of cloth of silver bordered the hemline, while more silver accented the bodice and was tucked into ruching that edged the low neckline. Artfully, Fraulein Amstetten had left bare the creamy distance between her upper bosom and throat. Instead of dripping jewels that would distract an admiring eye from her natural charms, she wore a wide exquisite collar of sapphires and diamonds that accentuated her elegant throat and face. Even though the Austrian woman had used cosmetics, including the usual patch near the corner of her mouth, the effect was far from artificial. From her curls, pinned up in charming disarray and lightly powdered to complement her gown, to the silvery slippers that peeked out as she danced an Allemande with the prince, Giselle Amstetten was a work of art.

Gabrielle turned away, sick inside. If it was not for that woman, all would be well between her and Nicholai! He was bewitched; that was the only explanation! Remembering their last conversation, in Hyde Park, was torture, yet she couldn't help going back over the things they had said, wondering how the outcome might have been changed....

Nicholai's speech had been simple: whatever love or magic had once bound him to Gabrielle no longer existed. It had been a mistake for him to come to London. He was in love with someone else now and his first commitment was to her, which meant that he would not be able to help Gabrielle search for her brother in France. He would be leaving England very soon to begin a new life with the woman he planned to make his bride and hoped that Gabrielle would be generous enough to wish them good fortune.

"If you continue to frown so, you will find yourself with wrinkles,
ma chere amie!"

Gabrielle looked over to discover Angelique's worried gaze. "You should concern yourself with dear Dudley's well-being rather than mine, or my wrinkles!"

"I am not able to stop caring for my friend."

"And I am not able to stop caring for Nicky!"

"Your pride has been wounded worse than your heart
,
but both will mend. It is difficult to accept that Nicholai no longer loves you; that he seems to prefer another woman."

Gabrielle whispered a string of French epithets while staring across the ballroom at Fraulein Amstetten. The music had stopped and she was engaged in conversation with her friend, Madame Raveneau.

"Do you not realize, though," Angelique was continuing blithely, "that some other man will fall in love with you now, and I do not doubt that in the first storm of passion and romance he will happily go to the ends of the earth for you!"

"I do not care about the ends of the earth. I need only to cross the channel—and I want Nicholai to be with me!"

Angelique could only sigh, yielding to her friend's stubbornness.

* * *

Across the ballroom which was crowded with lavishly garbed guests, Lisette and Devon enjoyed the breeze that wafted through open French doors leading to the gardens.

"I tell you, I have seen him!" Devon insisted.

"Why would he come so late? It is like the night at Vauxhall. He takes some kind of mean pleasure in prolonging my agony by making me wait, and I'll wager that this entire evening is his idea of a joke. He never actually said he would be here, you know, but of course I spent a full day primping—"

"Will you be quiet? Mr. Beauvisage will be coming any moment. You have to keep your wits about you and remember how important it is to extricate him from the
comtesse de Louviers's
trap. You can't come right out and tell him that she's made a fool of him, so you must phrase your warnings very carefully."

"I know that!" Lisette snapped. In spite of herself, she was scanning the main entrance to the ballroom and was annoyed at herself for reacting so predictably.

Devon reached for her friend's hand and squeezed it gently. "Try to remain calm."

"Are you truly certain you saw him?"

"Absolutely. He must have been waylaid for conversation, probably by some eager female. I hear that every mama in London has her eye on Nicholai for her daughter, and that just as many are sizing you up as the perfect wife for their sons!"

Lisette gasped. Instinctively she glanced around and was astonished to find at least a half dozen pairs of male eyes staring at her. "I can't believe it! I have been so preoccupied with Nicholai that I haven't even noticed—"

"Your modesty is one of your most becoming traits," Devon assured her, laughing softly. "And... don't look now, but here he comes. The man obviously has eyes for only you! Don't forget, now, that if persuasion and reason don't seem to be effective, you may have to find some other way to keep Mr. Beauvisage from journeying to France."

"Believe me, with something this important at stake, I won't get so dizzy with passion that I forget all about it." Helplessly, Lisette looked past Devon and immediately spotted Nicholai's tall, broad-shouldered figure winding through the crowd across the ballroom. Hundreds of candles in the chandeliers struck sparks over his tousled hair. He was so fiercely magnificent that Lisette's heart began to race the first moment she saw him. Nicholai's frock coat was coffee-colored velvet over a white shirt and stock, and a waistcoat of brown and golden brocade.

"Don't stare at him until we have you dancing with Andre!" scolded Devon. "I suspect that your eyes could send fire even across this ballroom."

And then, Raveneau appeared and swept Lisette into his arms with a roguish grin. She saw Nicholai just a few feet away as they drifted farther into the swirling pairs of dancers.

"We are very bad," Lisette told Andre, unable to repress a smile.

"Well, it's important that Beauvisage not become too certain of success with you, particularly in light of the
comtesse de Louviers's
influence."

It was like being at the center of a raging fire, for all eyes seemed to be on them, from the Prince of Wales's to Gabrielle's to Nicholai's to the dozens of pairs belonging to London's most eligible bachelors. Then, Raveneau was stopping just as Lisette noticed familiar dark fingers against his shoulder.

"Might I steal a portion of this dance?" inquired Nicholai.

"The choice is Fraulein Amstetten's." Even as Andre responded, his own gaze was being pulled toward the glass doors and the enchanting figure of his wife. Devon was clad in a low-cut gown of hyacinth and ivory silk, her curls spilling down in seemingly artless disarray.

"I don't want to make a scene...." Lisette murmured. She heard Nicholai's ironic chuckle, then her body was being held close against his hard chest and hips.

"I am sorry to be late," he whispered as they danced.

"Oh, are you late? I hadn't noticed."

His laughter said that he didn't believe her for a moment, but he replied, "You wound me, fraulein. I was hoping that you had come here tonight for the sole purpose of seeing me one more time before my ship sails. I thought that perhaps you chose that exquisite gown just to please me, and that you might have dreamed, briefly, of the moment when we would be alone and my mouth would drift down to that enticing décolletage...."

"Herr Beauvisage!" Lisette's gasp was hot as she felt her nipples stiffen in betrayal. "You forget yourself!"

"I do?" He stopped suddenly amidst the other swaying dancers and looked around in comic dismay. "I don't think so, Fraulein Amstetten. In fact, I would take an oath that I am right here at Carleton House with you!"

"I am not joking!"

"Neither am I." Warm lips grazed her temple, then the satiny curve of her ear. "Perhaps we should discuss this further in the garden."

"Well..." she answered doubtfully as a sweet weakness swept over her body.

"A wise decision."

No sooner had they strolled out into the cool cloud-strewn night than Gabrielle was cornering Lady Angelique Whitloaf in a corner of the ballroom.

"Do you see what has happened? Nicky means to bed that vixen. I know it!"

Angelique sighed and wished her husband would come along to escort her to supper. "If that is so, I cannot see what you may gain by fretting over it
.
Why not leave them alone and concentrate on a new plan to find your husband? If you really care about Nicholai so very much, I would think that you would be made happy to see that he may have found new love—"

"With that Austrian trollop?
Quelle horreur!"

At last Angelique spotted Lord Whitloaf as he turned away after a brief conversation with the Prince of Wales. "Dudley! There you are. I am famished; won't you take us to supper?"

Her eyes fixed on the garden doors, Gabrielle shook her head. "I am not ready to go yet. I shall meet you both in the Gothic Conservatory after a little while." She glanced at Dudley and added one last parting shot aimed at her friend. "Angelique always has had a much more voracious appetite than I. Truly, I could tell you such stories!"

Lord Whitloaf's wine-dulled eyes widened in bewilderment, but then his wife was tugging at his arm and he allowed himself to be led away.

Gabrielle allowed herself a small smile. Thank God for Angelique's guilt over her little romp in the stable so many years ago. It had really been nothing, but Angelique was so easily manipulated...

Across the ballroom, diamonds sparkled as a sapphire-gowned figure appeared in the French doors. Gabrielle saw Fraulein Amstetten laugh and she saw the dark hand that drew her back into the secret fragrant night. After a long minute, the woman appeared alone and made her way through the crush of dancers until she was at the side of the Prince of Wales. They exchanged pleasantries, his face registered regret, he kissed her hand, and then the Austrian woman was leaving the ballroom. Gabrielle couldn't decide what to do. Her mind whirled, taken by surprise, but after a minute she resolved to find Nicholai. Just then, he came through the doors, the picture of nonchalance, and made his way to the prince. Watching, Gabrielle felt her breath burn in her lungs. Of course, they couldn't leave together, but it wasn't hard for her to imagine their reunion in the carriage that would take them to Nicholai's new town house.

Obviously, he cared nothing for
her
suffering—after all they had shared for so long in France! Now, blinded by lust for that Austrian hussy, Nicholai thought only of himself. Did he imagine that she would allow them to humiliate her before all of London without so much as a whimper of protest?

Gabrielle's eyes took on a harsh light as the pieces of a plan fell into place in her shadowed mind.

Chapter 43

Midnight,

September 7, 1793

The interior of the coach Nicholai had hired was comfortable
,
with seats of padded velvet, but so cramped that a pleasant sort of panic caused Lisette to flush as soon as the door closed and an all-too-familiar body settled next to her.

"So, Fraulein Amstetten, where were we?"

Thin wheels crunched over bits of gravel as the coach picked up speed. Alarmingly conscious of the masculine arm that pressed against her in the darkness, she swallowed audibly before replying, "I—I told you that there was a matter of grave importance that I wished to discuss with you, Herr Beauvisage."

"Ah, yes!" A brief white grin betrayed his amusement. "I, too, found our 'discussion' in the garden to be highly enlightening, and I am anxious to continue it!"

"That's not—"

Nicholai's hands encircled her waist, turning her easily into his embrace. For an instant, she was conscious only of the intoxicating scent and texture of him, then one lean arm was around her back while the other slid up until long fingers were in her carefully arranged hair, holding her face still to receive his kiss.

Oh...
Hazily Lisette wondered why the sensation of Nicholai's mouth against her own ignited such a blaze of desire from the deepest corners of her body. Just when she thought her memories of their lovemaking must be exaggerations, he managed to interfere and remind her that reality cast fantasy in the shade.

His mouth slowly worked on hers, urging her soft lips to open and yield the sweetness within. Their tongues met and played. Fiery currents of longing swelled her breasts and burned downward to her loins, while her slender arms twined about Nicholai's strong shoulders and neck.