‘Lady Tabitha, you have deceived us all most cruelly by hiding your talents from the world and never once mentioning that you play and sing like an angel. Pray, how do you explain such an oversight?’
She blushed from the tips of her fingers to the tip of her pretty nose. ‘Why, Sir, tis you who plays and sings most divinely.’ She looked down at the toes of her satin shoes and whispered. ‘You are indeed a wonder.’
He waved the compliment away with a gentle toss of his lace kerchief and laughed. ‘I would sooner listen to you than any other, Lady Tabitha, for you most surely do the greater honour to the pianoforte and your voice is a silk-spun gift from the heavens above. But tell me, are you absolutely sure you did not bewitch an angel and steal away their voice that you may charm the breasts of unwitting and mortal men?’
Tabitha laughed at the elegant compliment and looked up into Daniel’s pale grey eyes.’Tell me, dear Sir, for I would love to hear where you learned to play and sing with such beauty and grace.’
‘Ah, my dear Lady, but I must now confess that I sold my soul to a wily imp for a portion of the Devil’s musical craft and now I am cursed for all eternity to wander the earth and forever be denied the warmth of a woman’s gentle and restorative love.’
‘Would the love of a woman serve to restore you and rescue you from this most diabolical spell, my good Lord?’
‘Oh, yes. Oh, yes, indeed. But where under heaven’s great skies may I ever find such a love, Lady Tabitha? For surely am I a lost soul without it.’
‘You do not need to look any further, my Lord, for I would happily rescue you from this abomination with my own true love and release you forever from the terrible curse that binds you.’
Daniel smiled as he steeped closer. ‘And would you seal the bargain of my liberty with a kiss, sweet enchantress?’
She closed her eyes and nodded her assent as Daniel drew nearer and, with infinite care, brushed the outline of her lips with his own. ‘Tis done, my Lady. I am now freed from my curse and I owe my life to thee and the gentleness of those beautiful lips.’
Tabitha thought that her heart had stopped. An electric tingle ran down her spine and she wondered if time had stopped and the world had ceased to spin on its eternal axis. Slowly, she opened her eyes and Daniel was standing there, looking at her with a hint of mischief and a devilish grin. ‘My beautiful Lady Enchantress, if my curse should prove more stubborn than we had both supposed, would you deign to offer the remedy of your lips again, should the need arise?’
‘Willingly and gladly, my Lord.’ She smiled from the soles of her feet to the crown of auburn hair on her head. ‘Willingly and gladly.’
Chapter 11
It was perhaps a different sort of miracle that Tabitha was able to find sleep at all that night after having her passions aroused in a simple game of wit and playfulness with Lord Fitzwarren. She was utterly enthralled by his charms and his looks and by his extraordinary talent as a musician. Childish tales of imps and curses had only made their encounter more exciting, more thrilling, somehow forbidding and she found it all irresistible. With great effort, she pulled the embroidered blanket up to her chin and closed her eyes in the hope that would dream of the young Lord. She did not dream and she felt she had barely slumbered for a few minutes when Regina burst into her bedchamber to announce that breakfast was being served and that Tabitha was a slug-a-bed for not rising sooner. It was morning, the sun was already up and the day of the ball had finally arrived.
At three in the afternoon, a fine carriage drew up at the baron’s front door and an elegantly attired man in a dark blue cloak and immaculately polished riding boots stepped out without waiting for the carriage step to be lowered. He was tall with a finely edged jaw and prominent hooked nose and he looked up at the great house with a familiar nod and a smile. Charles Percy, Duke of Rutland and personal friend of the king, doffed his tri-corn hat with the shining spun-gold tassels and revealed a shock of white hair that underlined his age yet lent a patrician dignity to his appearance. The great doors swung open and the baron hurried down the steps to greet his old friend with a firm handshake and a hand on his slim shoulder. ‘Percy, my dear friend. How good it is to see you after all these years.’
‘Branton, you look like you’ve been arm-wrestling with the angel of death! What in the Lord’s name ails thee?’
Blunt as ever and never renowned for his diplomatic skills, the Duke was valued by the crown and by the government he served for his brutal honesty and his candid views. He never saw the value in sugaring the pill. It had certainly made him enemies. It had also gained him the respect of the king and the prime minister. Especially in a time of war.
‘Ah, Percy. Nothing escapes your attention, does it, my friend?’
‘Damnably obvious that you’re not well, Branton. Question is – what are you doing about it?’
The baron turned and led his guest up the broad staircase as the footmen began to unload the Duke’s luggage. For such a short visit, he seemed to have packed for a month.
‘I have been diagnosed with the consumption.’ He stopped and turned towards the Duke. ‘Though I have managed to keep it a secret from the children and from the household. They will know the truth of it soon enough, my dear friend.’
‘You should’ve taken another wife. Not natural to live alone. No wonder you contracted the illness. Sleeping alone, I’ll wager, in a damp bed. Recipe for ill health if ever there was one!’
‘I could never remarry, Percy.’ The baron shook his head sadly. ‘My wife was irreplaceable. It would feel like an offense to her memory to marry again.’
The Duke snorted. ‘Then what about a serving girl, eh? Plenty of them running about on the estate. Something to keep your old bones warm at night? What’s wrong with that for pity’s sake?’
The baron chuckled and shook his head again. ‘I think not, Percy. Not even for the sake of my health! And heaven knows what the parson would say if he ever found out. No, my friend. I sleep with my memories and they are enough for me. My real fear is that the consumption will take me before Tabitha is married.’
The two men walked into the library together and took their seats as a servant helped the Duke remove his luxurious cloak. ‘If anything happened to me, I do not know what would happen to my daughters.’
The Duke leaned forward and put a firm hand on the old baron’s knee. ‘If anything happens to you, my dear Branton, you may look to me to take care of your daughters.’
The baron looked at his friend, still strong despite his years, robust and full of vigour and he knew that salvation was at hand. ‘My dear Percy, you have just removed a great weight from my mind. I cannot thank you enough for your offer.’ To his surprise, the baron was obliged to remove a small tear from the corner of his eye. ‘Are you alright, Branton?’ asked the Duke. ‘Oh, yes,’ replied the baron, feeling a tightness in his throat as the emotion rose in his chest. ‘It’s just a mote of dust from the fire. A mote of dust. Nothing more.’ They sat back in their comfortable leather armchairs for a moment and sipped a fine cognac in silence as the log fire cast its warmth into the room and memories stirred in the hearts of both men.
Chapter 12
Throughout the early spring afternoon, a succession of carriages brought guests to the great house and servants busied themselves with coats and fur muffs, with cloaks and muddied boots and offered warming silver cups of spiced punch to revive the travellers. There was laughter and merriment as the visitors renewed old acquaintanceships and offered their respects to their smiling host and, with a greater deal of restraint, to the Duke.
The ball began with food and drink and a dining table laden to capacity with roast meats and a dazzling array of delicacies and confectionary. The baron had access to a prestigious wine merchant in London who, despite the Royal Navy’s blockade of French ports, mysteriously managed to acquire a regular supply of excellent Burgundy wines. The guests expressed their approval in a series of rousing toasts and some of the gentl
emen succumbed to the effects of a surfeit of wine quite early in the evening. Servants had prepared couches in an adjacent drawing room for those guests who could not stand nor conduct themselves without falling over. But most of the attendants paced themselves more carefully and enjoyed the feast and the wine without impinging too greatly upon their sobriety. Including Miss Cowper.
During the afternoon, the baron had explained to the Duke the reason for his decision to host the ball and he then asked the elegant nobleman if he would be kind enough to cast a critical eye over the young and dashing suitor who had expressed a romantic interest in his lovely daughter.
‘Buckley’s boy, you say?’ The Duke stroked his clean-shaven chin and drew on his pipe of sweet Virginia twist. ‘I know the Earl well enough. Fine fellow. Good man. Wellesley speaks highly of him. But I do not know the son and heir and I am most curious to learn why the young shaver is not serving king and country with his father against the blasted French in Spain.’
‘I have not yet spoken to Fitzwarren about the matter and I did not wish to upset my daughter who is clearly infatuated with him. Yet, in truth my dear Percy, he seems remarkably evasive when confronted with a direct and simple question.’
‘Do not worry yourself, my friend. I’ll have the measure of the man soon enough and then we’ll see what he’s made of.’
Chapter 13
The musicians had fortified their spirits and lubricated their repertoire with a constant flow of warm punch, ably assisted by the serving girls who kept their glasses charged, and revived their spirits with stronger vintages as the evening wore on. The ballroom was bathed in the flickering light of a thousand candles and the ladies’ jewellery sparkled as they twirled and dipped and followed the intricate patterns of the latest dances. As a beautiful and dainty dance partner, Tabitha proved to be very popular with all the gentlemen in the room who competed and vied for her attention and then pretended to be heartbroken when another gallant took her hand and swept her across the polished dance floor. Daniel was an accomplished dancer, a dandy on the floor with a high-waisted black velvet tail coat adorned with gold buttons that bore his family crest. His silk waist coat shone in the candlelight and he moved with grace and assurance, aware that all eyes were upon him as he demonstrated his mastery of the most fashionable dance steps.
Yet the Duke, for all his air of austerity was a fine dancer too. Less elegant than Daniel, perhaps, more formal and less flamboyant too, he asked Tabitha to grace him with a turn about the dance floor and he drew gasps of surprise and admiration with his skill and effortless command of the dance. The onlookers applauded him and, for the first time, Tabitha noticed that Daniel was not smiling. She caught a glimpse of the young Lord as the Duke escorted her in a series of perfect turns that drew cheers from the crowd and she detected a sullen expression on his face that she had not noticed before. Perhaps he was jealous. Now that would be a truly fine thing, she thought, as the Duke smiled at her and she realised that the older man was a very fine-looking gentleman indeed. But the Duke also caught the expression on Lord Fitzwarren’s face and read a quite different message in the young man’s eyes. He suspected, as he held the young girl in his strong arms, that young Fitzwarren was piqued by the fact that he was no longer the centre of attention in the room and that particular character trait did not bode well for Lady Tabitha Branton’s future. It did not bode well at all.
As the musicians began to tire from their exertions - and from the effects of the strong liquor they’d consumed so enthusiastically during the evening - the guests began to move in small groups to the spacious drawing room with its comfortable seating, crystal decanters of fine cognac and a scattering of card tables. The ladies were fanning themselves and sipping cordials to refresh themselves and some of the gentlemen had already taken their seats to play a hand of cards. It was entirely permissible to wager on the outcome of each game and it was widely considered as good sport and an entertaining way to pass an evening. Cigars were available and footmen trimmed the fine cheroots and offered tapers to light them as the players settled down to their game.
Within a half hour, a small crowd had gathered around the table where lord Fitzwarren was playing and his luck was drawing gasps of amazement as he won a series of hands and gathered before him an impressive pile of gold coins.
‘Pon my soul, young man, but you have the luck of the devil himself.’ A well-dressed nobleman threw down his cards and exclaimed to the onlookers ‘Five hands in a row and he has taken the prize each time! I have never seen the like. Tis sorcery and black magic! We should summon a bishop to bless the deck.’
Daniel smiled and raised his hands in innocence. ‘Pray, good Sir, it is surely not the work of the devil but the generous hand of lady fortune that favours the draw of the cards. I cannot help the way the cards fall and I do not complain that they seem to work to my advantage. Perhaps it is nothing more than beginner’s luck.’
His fine words soothed the gentleman’s displeasure and the crowd murmured in approval at the young noble’s display of tact and modesty.
Just then, the Duke stepped forward and asked if he might take the departing gentleman’s place at the table. The crowd seemed excited at the prospect of watching the great man play a hand of cards. Daniel looked up and bowed his head with the utmost courtesy and expressed his delight that the Duke had chosen to honour the game with his presence. The Duke took his seat and placed a small, hand-tooled leather purse upon the green baize of the playing surface.
‘We haven’t been formally introduced. I am Charles Percy, Duke of Rutland, and I have the honour to be acquainted with your father.’
Daniel smiled once again and nodded his head in respect as he shuffled the cards. ‘It is an honour, Your Grace, an honour. And, as you have surmised, I am Daniel, Lord Fitzwarren of Buckley, son and heir to the Earl.’
Daniel quickly dealt the cards under the watchful gaze of the Duke. ‘You enjoy the gaming tables, do you not, young Fitzwarren?’
‘I have played occasionally, Your Grace.’
‘Come, Sir. You seem most uncommonly familiar with the cards for I have rarely seen them shuffled and dealt so expertly.’
‘I may have a minor talent in that direction, Your Grace.’
‘Is that how you spend your time? Playing cards and wagering on the outcome?’
‘As I said, Your Grace, I do play on occasion. But it is for pleasure rather than for the sport or for the winnings.’ Daniel looked up from his cards at that moment and stared into the Duke’s steely eyes.
‘Judging by the coin you have accumulated this evening, it would seem to be a most profitable pastime for you.’
‘Fortune has certainly favoured me this evening, Your Grace. There is no denying it.’
The gentlemen placed their wagers and, with a flourish, Daniel grinned and revealed his winning hand.
‘I seem to be Fortune’s favoured player this evening. If this continues, no one will wish to try their luck. I shall be forced to play alone!’
The crowd laughed at the young Lord’s heartfelt sigh and weary complaint yet the Duke had watched him most carefully and was strangely keen to suggest another hand.
‘I am also fond of the gaming table and would wish to try my luck again. Perhaps for the sake of good sport, you would be willing to increase the wager?’
Daniel looked across the table and glanced down at the Duke’s finely-crafted leather purse.
‘But of course, Your Grace. What would you suggest?’
‘Your winnings. Let that be the wager on the next turn of the cards.’
Fitzwarren smiled and nodded graciously. ‘As Your Grace wishes.’
The Duke waved his hand at the other players. ‘But let us not dilute the sport with these other players, who are, I believe, your friends?’
A brief flicker crossed Fitzwarren’s face before he quickly recovered his composure. ‘Well, Your Grace, that would certainly make the game more interesting. Higher stakes and only two playe
rs. Very well.’
The other three players stood up, glancing at each other and moving away from the table.
Daniel began to shuffle the deck.
‘I believe it is my turn to deal, Fitzwarren.’ The Duke smiled as he extended his open hand across the table.
Now there was a flush of colour around Daniel’s finely stitched and embroidered shirt collar.
He hesitated and the Duke remained with his arm outstretched, smiling and unblinking. Tabitha had joined Miss Cowper in the circle of onlookers and could not quite understand what was going on at the table.
‘What’s happening?’ she whispered to her governess.
‘More than meets the eye,’ the older lady replied.
The Duke accepted the pack of cards and began to shuffle them, slowly, carefully, methodically, never moving his gaze from the young man seated opposite him.
‘Fitzwarren.’ The Duke began to deal with a calm, deliberate placement of each card.
‘Why are you not serving with your father, the Earl, in Spain?’
The question took Daniel by surprise.
‘Speak up. Why are you not serving with your father against the French?’
‘I am waiting to be summoned to the colours in due course, Your Grace.’