Rachel laughed. “Has D’Arcy seen your tattoo yet?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Ho! Now who is the coward?” she teased.
“Tattoo?” Captain Butler looked at Harry in disbelief.
Harry rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask!”
“Where is D’Arcy?” Butler questioned.
“He went to get me a drink, but he must have gotten lost in the crowd.”
“Here’s Thomas and Beatrix. Oh, your gown is ultrafeminine, Trixy,” Rachel declared. “You look so lovely, you make me wish I hadn’t dressed as a boy.”
Harry saw Anson’s eyes sweep over her from head to foot. She also saw the amusement written there that he couldn’t quite conceal.
Captain Butler ran an appreciative hand over the elaborate gold braid on Thomas’s coat. “Is this the admiral’s uniform of your famous ancestor George Anson?”
“It is indeed. Perhaps it’s presumptuous of me to wear it, but he’s the only Anson who ever achieved greatness.”
“You never told me you had a famous ancestor,” Harry said. “I’m curious as a cat.”
“He became admiral of the fleet and won many great naval battles against the French. He circumnavigated the world, and captured ships laden with gold. He is the one who brought back the many treasures that once furnished Shugborough Hall.”
The treasures your father sold to pay off his gambling debts.
“You are not being presumptuous when you wear his uniform, Thomas. You are honoring him.” Green eyes met pewter and held for long, drawn-out moments.
Abercorn, dressed as King Charles, joined them. “Your mother is off dancing with Prince Albert, and I have just had the privilege of partnering our gracious queen. It appears my services are needed here, since one of my daughters is without a partner.”
“D’Arcy went to get me a drink, but has obviously been waylaid.” Harry raised her arms and her father led her onto the floor without a flicker of disapproval at her costume.
Halfway through the dance, Harry spotted D’Arcy, who was having an animated conversation with none other than Prime Minister Aberdeen.
“I can’t believe it! D’Arcy is hobnobbing with your detested stepfather.”
“Did you happen to tell him that it is the prime minister who recommends lord lieutenants to the queen?”
Harry looked up at her father as comprehension dawned. “I’ll be damned.”
“Don’t be offended. It shows expedience and ambition—traits that will serve him well, both in business and in government.”
“But he’s fraternizing with the enemy. Shouldn’t loyalty count for something?”
“Indeed it should . . . in a husband. But you are not married yet, Harry.”
As the dance ended, Abercorn waltzed Harriet over to the spot where Anson was standing. “Thomas, I shall leave my daughter in your capable hands.” He turned to Beatrix and gallantly offered to partner her in the next dance.
“You need not dance with me, Thomas. If I’m perceived as a male, it may spark gossip, and if I’m recognized as a female exposing my limbs, it will shock sensibilities.”
He raised his arms in invitation. “What are friends for?”
Harry smiled her acceptance and they moved onto the floor as the music began. The moment she went into his arms, she realized with alarm that she would have to put up her guard against his devastating animal attraction. Her physical response to him was potent. She took a deep breath and searched for a topic of conversation that would distract her thoughts from the overwhelming magnetism of the dark devil.
“You are the member of Parliament for Lichfield, Staffordshire. What is it like there?”
“It’s quite lovely. Staffordshire is the heart of England. It’s agricultural rather than industrial. Stafford, the town closest to Shugborough, is the main coaching stop between London and Chester. It’s also the main route to the northwest and Ireland, so it is relatively prosperous. The railways skirted us in favor of Birmingham in the Midlands, so that is the town that has exploded in size and manufacturing. Lichfield, a few miles south of Shugborough, has a medieval cathedral reputed to be the loveliest in England.”
Harry searched her memory. “I believe it has three spires.”
“It has indeed.”
“I remember from my visits to Shugborough.” I can smell jasmine and honeysuckle. She closed her eyes and almost drifted into a romantic fantasy. A voice inside her head warned, Stop it, Harry! She opened her eyes quickly. D’Arcy Lambton is far better husband material than Anson. Thomas is dominant and demanding, and if I became his wife, I would be so enamored, I would allow him to rule the roost. D’Arcy has such a pleasant, easygoing nature, he will allow me to have my own way and make my own decisions.
Thomas continued with his description. “Lichfield is known for falconry, sheepdogs, heavy horses, and ferret racing.”
A picture came full-blown in her imagination. “It sounds like—” She hesitated.
“Absolute perfection,” Thomas murmured as the dance ended.
“There you are, Harry!” D’Arcy arrived with a glass of wine in hand. “I’ve been searching for you everywhere.”
She smiled and took the wine. “I’ve been right here, all the time.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure of dancing with you yet.” D’Arcy seemed torn.
“Would you feel better if I removed my mask and let my hair down?”
“I’d feel infinitely better, my love.”
“Hold my wine.” Harry unfastened her mask, removed the thong from her hair, and shook her tresses until they cascaded about her shoulders. Then she took back her glass and drained it. She turned to Thomas and placed the empty glass in his hand. “What are friends for?” she murmured outrageously, and was rewarded by the amusement she saw in his dark eyes.
As they danced the next three dances, D’Arcy was clearly enjoying himself. Holding her in his arms, he whispered intimate compliments, and when he held her at arm’s length, he gazed enraptured at her legs. Then he would draw her close, and brush his hard thighs against hers.
The master of ceremonies announced that once more the guests must parade in a circle to show off their magnificent costumes, so that prizes could be awarded. After that, the supper rooms would be opened.
“Oh, Lord, the last thing I want to do is parade again. I’ve been gawked at enough for one night,” Harry declared.
D’Arcy waggled his eyebrows. “Your wish is my command, lassie.” He took her hand and led her from the ballroom. They zigzagged through a throng of people, who all seemed to be going in the opposite direction. They finally found a chamber that was less crowded, and made their way out onto its secluded balcony.
D’Arcy enfolded her in his arms and captured her lips in a possessive kiss.
Harry began to giggle.
“What the devil is so amusing?”
“Forgive me, D’Arcy. It’s your powdered wig. I feel preposterous being kissed by a man who resembles a fop.”
“That is soon remedied.” He swept the wig from his head and tossed it aside.
“That’s better. The moonlight turns your hair to pale gold,” Harry murmured. Unable to resist, she reached up and ran her fingers through his blond curls. This time, when his mouth sought hers, she opened her lips in invitation.
D’Arcy’s hands reached beneath her kilt and he caressed her bum with the palms of his hands. He pressed her forward into his erection and moaned deep in his throat.
“Harry, there’s such a mob here, we could slip away to Carlton House Terrace and never be missed.”
“D’Arcy, I can’t. If I leave here and come to your house, you know very well what will happen.”
“I can’t wait any longer, Harry.” He caressed the inside of her mouth with his tongue. “And why the devil should we wait? The Season will be over when Parliament recesses in August. In less than three weeks, we’ll announce our betrothal.” He took her hand and pressed it to his throbbing sex.
“Don’t be a cocktease, Harry. You can feel the state that I’m in.”
Though she was impulsive and wildly curious about sex, she had more good sense than to give in to a randy male’s sexual demands.
“Harry, if you love me, you’ll come with me now.”
“D’Arcy Lambton, what you are feeling isn’t love—it is lust.” She pulled away. “I want to wait. I can’t—I won’t—come with you tonight.”
D’Arcy heaved a sigh of pure frustration. “You drive me mad, Harry!” He reached inside his brocade coat and took out a key. He slipped it into her pocket. “I’m trusting you with the key to my heart, as well as my house, Harry. I know you’re daring enough to overcome your ridiculous Victorian scruples and come to me.”
Harry slipped her arms about his neck and leaned into him until their mouths were almost touching. “It makes me feel very wicked to have your key tucked beneath my heart. Perhaps I am falling in love with you, D’Arcy. The temptation to turn up in your bed one of these nights is almost irresistible.” She laughed. “Almost!”
Young James Hamilton was having the time of his life. Dressing as a cavalier was the best decision I ever made. Females pursued him relentlessly and some even lined up to dance with him. He didn’t need to steal kisses; the young ladies offered their lips freely. At first, he tried to discern their identities beneath their disguises, but soon gave up.
James eagerly searched for Emily Curzon-Howe, but found it rather difficult because of all the different costumes. He was soon receiving so much attention that he stopped looking for Lady Emily.
When the master of ceremonies announced the second parade, James stood watching the circle of costumed masqueraders, and applauded when the prizes were handed out. His glance swept over each lady as he tried to decide which one he would partner next.
A young female in a white-feathered mask walked a direct path to him. “Jamie!”
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Pleased to finally encounter Lady Emily, he swept his eyes over her elaborate costume. “Your gown is lovely.” He touched one of the glittering crystals that encrusted her shapely bodice. “I think you should have won a prize.”
She took his hand, and he willingly followed her, hoping for his own prize. They went through French doors at the side of the ballroom that led out to a stone balustrade. The minute they were alone, she reached up to remove his eye mask. Then she opened her bodice to reveal her bare breasts.
“What do you think of these, Jamie?”
James was bemused. Clearly, the voice did not belong to Lady Emily. He raised his hand to remove her mask, and suddenly he was filled with horror. “Princess Vicky!”
The French doors swung open. Her Gracious Majesty the Queen of England, who had watched her daughter disappear from the ballroom, stared in outrage at the shocking scene before her. “Victoria! Seek your chamber immediately.”
Young James Hamilton frantically searched the ballroom until he found his sister. “Harry, I’m in the most god-awful trouble!”
Early the next morning, Harry and her brother stood before their father in the library. “James is in the most god-awful trouble. You must help him, Father.”
When his son told him what had happened, Abercorn was incredulous. “Are you telling me that the Princess Royal bared her breasts to you?”
“She did. And it’s not the first time she’s indulged in lewd behavior toward me.”
“Meaning?”
James glanced at his sister. “Last time we were at Windsor, she put her hand on my groin, and . . . rubbed herself against my thigh.”
“Why on earth did you go out on the balustrade with her?”
“I thought it was Emily Curzon-Howe.”
“I see,” Abercorn said quietly. “Well, since Queen Victoria caught you in such a compromising situation, you have no alternative but an abject apology. You will accompany me to Buckingham Palace this morning, and I’ll try to get an audience for you with Prince Albert.”
“But it was the queen who saw us.” James was racked with misery.
“My dear boy, you cannot discuss anything of a salacious nature with Her Majesty. It is simply not done. The queen’s outward demeanor is puritanical to a marked degree.”
“Do you think she will have told Prince Albert?”
“I am certain of it. Victoria shares every thought with him and seeks his opinion on the most insignificant matters. I assure you, she will not consider Princess Vicky’s welfare insignificant.”
Young James squared his shoulders. “I warrant I have no choice.”
Abercorn added a warning. “Your apology had better be sincere. You’ve been accepted at Oxford, but a word from the royal family could change that in an instant.”
At Buckingham Palace, Abercorn bade his son take a seat and wait until he was summoned.
Then the duke entered Prince Albert’s office, a chamber familiar to him. He waited until the prince had given his two secretaries instructions for the morning, and spoke only when they were alone.
“Your Highness, I have brought my son to apologize for the incident that happened last night at the Bal Costume. If you would honor him with a moment of your time, I would be indebted to you.”
“Ah yes, the unfortunate incident. Show him in, Abercorn.”
With trepidation, James followed his father into the prince’s office and waited until Albert spoke first.
“Well, James?”
“Your Highness, I humbly beg your pardon for taking the Princess Royal out onto the balustrade last night. I am fully responsible for my disrespectful behavior and freely admit the blame is entirely mine. I give you my word of honor it will never happen again, sire.”
Prince Albert gave him a rueful glance. “I accept your apology, Lord Hamilton.”
Both Abercorn and his son waited for the prince to say more, but after a moment, they realized the audience was over.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Young James bowed his head and departed.
Prince Albert signaled Abercorn to remain. The queen’s consort had few friends in the British aristocracy, and even fewer intimate confidants. He considered Hamilton one of them. “Come and sit down, James. Your son was most gallant to take the blame onto himself for the unfortunate incident last night.”
“I expected no less, Your Highness.”
“As you can imagine, Victoria and I discussed the matter for hours after the ball. We decided that we could no longer ignore Vicky’s lack of restraint. Much to the queen’s embarrassment, our oldest daughter is . . . physically . . . precocious. We have decided the best course is to arrange her engagement to young Prince Frederick of Prussia. Today I am issuing an invitation for him to join us at Balmoral.”
“Forgive me, but an engagement at fourteen years old might raise eyebrows.”
“We are aware of that, James. It will be a private engagement. We won’t announce it to the public for at least two years.”
“I am indeed sorry that my son caused you so much worry and concern.”
Albert waved his hand. “We’ve known about Vicky’s precocious behavior for some time. This has merely precipitated our future plans for the Princess Royal.”
Abercorn bowed his head. “You are extremely understanding and generous, sire.”
On the ride home, James thanked his father for his help. “I appreciate all you do for me, Father. Thank heaven the matter is over and done.”
“Not quite, James. You mentioned Emily Curzon-Howe. Reading between the lines, I take it you have an intimate relationship. If Earl Howe learns of it, the repercussions could be detrimental to your future—you’d be forced to offer for the young debutante.”
James flushed.
“I think it advisable to find yourself an opera dancer.”
Chapter Ten
“Whatever is amiss?” Harry stepped over the threshold of Barbara Leigh Smith’s house on Langham Place and knew by the look on the face of the woman who opened the door that something was wr
ong.
“Go through to the sitting room,” the woman said.
Harry could hear outraged voices, punctuated by the sound of someone sobbing, as she joined the eight suffragists gathered in the chamber.
Barbara said, “There’s been another pit disaster . . . an explosion at Murton Colliery. Emaline’s brother-in-law is one of the miners reported missing. She’s going to Durham this afternoon to be with her sister. Word is that fourteen are dead and more missing.”
“Durham?” Harry’s hand went to her throat. “Murton Colliery is in Durham?”
Barbara nodded. “God rot the pit owners! Have you any idea how many disasters occur every year? Yet still there are no safety measures taken to improve the deadly and dangerous working conditions of the coal miners.”
“Bloody greedy owners!” Sarah Taylor shouted. “When the miners in these Durham pit villages try to band together to form unions, the owners crush them with savage beatings and even murders!”
“The men should go on strike and refuse to do such dangerous work,” Harry said.
“How would they feed their children?” Barbara asked. “The only jobs available in the County of Durham are down the pit.”
“It’s tragic how many men are trapped every year in cave-ins, but it’s heartbreaking to know some of them are just little lads.”
“No, Sarah,” Harry explained, “Parliament passed a law forbidding women or children to work in the mines. My uncle Lord John Russell worked tirelessly to get this law passed.”
“You are naive, my dear. The mine owners ignore the laws. They still employ children as ‘trappers.’ They open and close trapdoors inside the mine tunnels to allow carts to pass through and to provide ventilation.” Sarah pressed her lips together.
“But that’s outrageous! Something must be done,” Harry declared. “I shall see that the members of Parliament are informed immediately.”
“Politicians turn a blind eye to the dangers down the pit. There’s flooding, and cave-ins, as well as firedamp gases that build up and cause massive explosions.”