The Regency Season Collection: Part Two. Кэрол Мортимер

loved it.’

      ‘But she had died by then?’

      ‘Yes. When I was eight.’

      ‘So it was always just the two of you?’

      ‘It was. Just us, and that is why Papa...’ She stopped, a line of worry etched into her brow.

      ‘Why he is so important to you? Why you wish for him to be happy?’

      * * *

      The music swirled about them, the notes of the violinists to one end of the room plaintive. Amethyst had never heard such music played before, but everything about tonight had been like a dream and Daniel’s hand across her gossamer-silk gloves made her feel different.

      Even with his injured leg he danced well, the quiet push of his body against hers as he led her around the floor. If his brother Nigel had been weak and fickle, Daniel was strong and solid and good, a man who would protect his family with all that he had, a soldier who had fought for crown and country and had spilled his blood in doing so. A husband as unlike Gerald in every way that it was possible to be.

      The thought made the breath in her throat shallow. Here in the midst of society in the bosom of a group who could so easily revile her, she felt safe and protected in Daniel’s arms. But she needed to tell him of her first marriage before much longer, needed to make him understand that such a mistake sometimes left you floundering for the right words and the proper explanations. A further reflection made her stiffen. Gerald’s business deals had taken him into the world of the ton. Perhaps some here had even met him. The room felt suddenly warm.

      ‘Your friend Lucien mentioned that you once bred horses?’ she asked, trying to push her anxiety aside for now.

      ‘I did indeed, at Montcliffe, before I sold most of them and bought a commission into the army. Deimos was the only one left of that line.’

      ‘You will like the stable at Dunstan House, then. Papa has not held back in buying the best of livestock, although lately he has lost interest in the project because of his health. The Arabian greys were a part of his big plan.’

      ‘Yet he looked more robust tonight.’

      The sentiment made her smile. ‘I think it is your influence, my lord, and I thank you for it.’

      His fingers tightened on her own. ‘I need to find you a ring. Is there any stone you might favour?’

      She shook her head. ‘I seldom wear jewellery.’

      ‘There was a large diamond ring at the bottom of the bag you left at my town house. When I lifted it the contents fell out.’

      Gerald’s ring. The one he had given her when he had pledged eternal love and loyalty in the chapel at Gaskell Street. He had won it at cards, she was to find out later, from a man who had stolen it from his sister in order to stay at the tables. A symbol as broken as its promise. She had forgotten she had even thrown it into her cloth bag where it had lain forgotten until the night Daniel had kissed her.

      ‘I dislike diamonds.’ She tried to keep the anger from her voice.

      ‘Then you must be the only woman in the entire room who does.’

      ‘And I prefer my hands bare of any adornment.’

       So nothing can catch. So that the gloves she wore in public could easily slip off at the end of an event.

      ‘Because of the scars on your wrist?’

      He had noticed? She thought that even through the sheer silk and lace they had been hidden. The skin above muscle torn away from bone was healed now, but there were other scars that would never mend.

      Missing a step, she fell against Montcliffe, his strength gathering her in and holding her steady.

      ‘Everyone harbours secrets, Amethyst.’

      She liked the way he said her Christian name, with that precise accent of privilege. She also liked the way his breath fell against her scalp, the soft whisper of her freed curls so different from the heavy cloying feeling of the wig.

      She noticed others watching them, some covertly and others more directly. If she could, she would have closed her eyes and only felt Daniel’s arms about her, the steady beat of his heart, the smell of strength and maleness and honour. She wished her father might have been here to watch the pageantry and the beauty, the chandeliers above, the violinists in the leafy grotto, the women dancing, bedecked in every colour of the rainbow, jewels sparkling in the flame.

      A different life and so very far removed from ledgers and order books and the brisk trading of timber. So very different from Gerald, too, with his heavy fists and his angry ranting, all the faults in the world everyone else’s save his own.

      Her father would have loved to have seen her enjoying a night like this, being a part of society in a way he had never imagined she would.

      Here in this room it was beauty that was most remarkable, the old lines of tradition and the mark of history holding its own kind of thrall. Swallowing back a growing delight she let Lord Montcliffe guide her around the floor.

      * * *

      As he caught his sore leg on an intricate step Daniel was pleased when the music ceased. He needed a drink badly, the back of his throat dry and a dread in his stomach that he remembered from the battlefields.

      No control. No damn certainty. Amethyst was his bride of convenience and yet here he was, falling under her spell. Like a green boy. Unmistakably stupid. Two years she had made him promise until they could end it all. Just a union of utility to benefit her father and his family. How much plainer could she state it?

      Francis handed him a drink when they were once again back within the group. A fine smooth brandy that did away with the foolishness. He made certain that he did not stand next to his wife-to-be, slipping into the space between his two best friends instead. His leg ached and throbbed, but there were other parts of his body too that were bursting into a life long since deadened.

      He wanted Miss Amethyst Amelia Cameron. He did. He wanted to lie down with her in their marriage bed for all the hours of all the nights of his life and listen to her heartbeat. She was honest and real and true. A woman who did not lie or simper or deceive.

      God, what would it be like to live with a woman who did not use every waking hour to plan the next gown or soirée as his sisters and mother were prone to, their constant gossip and ever-present fits of displeasure marring this day and then the next one.

      Simple. Uncomplicated. Truthful.

      When Gabriel Hughes came towards them with his sister and mother in tow, Daniel frowned. Charlotte looked as beautiful as ever, but she no longer held any sway over him. Tonight he could not even see what her attraction must have been.

      ‘We meet again, Lord Montcliffe. It is becoming a habit, though of course your marriage notice in the paper was a decided surprise. To a lot of people, I expect, your mother included. I can’t imagine she was pleased.’ Her voice was hard, an edge of anger upon it and another thing that he could not name.

      Amethyst was listening, as was Christine, though Lucien was trying to make a decent fist of a conversation with them to give him some privacy.

      With her blue eyes flashing Charlotte Mackay used her words like swords, the sharp point of meaning aimed true. She knew Janet Montcliffe had always favoured an alliance between them, two pre-eminent families of the ton melded into an ordained partnership. Any association with the world of trade was as offensive to Charlotte as it was to his mother and she made no attempt whatsoever to conceal her feelings.

      Gabe and Lady Wesley looked less sure as to the purpose of such an outburst. Indeed, her mother was trying to pull Charlotte away, her teeth set in a rigid smile of fluster, but her daughter was having none of it.

      ‘I should like to ask Miss Cameron a question if I may, my lord.’ The silky tone of her words signalled danger and the group around them fell into silence. ‘I would like