An Affair Most Wicked (6 page)

She had danced with a number of men, but had not yet found the one she had been searching for.

She later sat down with Mrs. Gunther to catch her breath and cool herself. She clacked open her plumed fan and sat for a time, watching the dancers while she absentmindedly stroked the smooth jewel in her drop earring with a finger and thumb.

Her mind returned again to the vision of that incredible man, sauntering across a glittering ballroom toward her. It all seemed like a ridiculous fantasy now, even though she knew it had been real. Perhaps the champagne and the punch had rattled her senses and made it all seem more magical than it had been—at least up until the moment he’d invited her under the stairs.

Or perhaps it truly had been magical.

Certainly, the man’s effect on her had been. She had not been able to extinguish the confusing, sweet ache that emerged every time she thought of him, every time she reminded herself that she did not even know his name, and that it was a very real possibility she would never see him again.

Still, Clara continued to dream of that night, imagining in great detail what would have occurred if she had gone with him to one of the private rooms when he had suggested it, if she had not revealed her innocence to him.

She envisioned a night of abandoned morality, bold and daring quests for pleasure she could not begin to understand, and quests for knowledge, so that she
could
understand the longings inside her—longings that were growing more and more intense as her fantasies became more adventurous.

But that’s all they were, she reminded herself. Fantasies. She knew nothing about the man beneath the mask, except that he had not ravished her when he’d had the chance.

And for that—despite all her daydreams that indicated otherwise—she was thankful.

She also felt justified in her private affection for this stranger, for at least she could tell herself that he possessed some integrity, and that he was a true gentleman. A hero who had pulled her from the fires of scandal, just like her father had done two years ago. If that mysterious gentleman had not marched her back to Mrs. Gunther and insisted that they leave immediately, who knew where Clara might be today? Perhaps on a steamer somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic, on her way back to America, her chances of marrying a decent man all but washed away.

On the other hand, her heroic fantasy man could have been married.

Married
. She hoped he wasn’t. Pity the poor wife if he was, for how could any woman survive the knowledge that a husband like him was unfaithful and uninterested in her?

Sophia approached at that moment, her cheeks flushed from a dance with her husband. “It’s almost time to leave, Clara. Have you danced enough?”

“Enough? Most definitely. I’m exhausted.” Yet, the thought of leaving drizzled disappointment over Clara, for another night had passed and her dream lover had not materialized.

“Shall we go?” Sophia asked.

Clara pasted on a smile. She closed her fan, gathered up her skirts, and followed her sister out.

As they drove home in the dark carriage, Clara continued to ponder the situation. She could not continue this way, dreaming about a mysterious stranger, while heaps of opportunities for acquaintances with perfectly respectable gentlemen passed her by.

Later that night, not long after she’d changed into her nightgown, Clara padded down the corridor in bare feet and knocked on Sophia’s door.

Sophia opened it and raised her index finger to her lips. “Shhh.” She held her second son, John, in her arms. He was wrapped up in a blanket.

She carefully handed the sleeping infant to his nurse, Louise, who headed for the door to take him upstairs to the nursery. Clara closed the door behind Louise.

Sophia pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Sit down, Clara. What is it?”

Clara sat on the bed, not altogether certain how to explain her feelings to her sister, who already had enough on her plate with two babies barely ten months apart. All she knew was that she needed to do something to get over this foolish infatuation, because it wasn’t going away on its own.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Clara said, “that I’ve not been remotely interested in any of the gentlemen I’ve met this week, and I’ve met quite a few very nice men.”

Sophia covered Clara’s hand with her own. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I suspect it’s because you’re still thinking about
him
. Am I right?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“To be honest, yes. You gaze off into space most of the time, and if you’re not doing that, you’re surveying ballrooms, searching hopefully with your eyes.”

“I want to find a good husband, I truly do, but how can I, when I can’t get a certain fantasy man out of my mind? None can even compare to my memory of him.” Clara cupped her forehead with her hand. “I know it’s ridiculous, because I’m sure that everything I believe about him is exactly that—a fantasy. Let’s face it, he was present at one of these improper balls, and therefore is probably one of two things: a rake who carries on affairs with married women, or a husband who cheats on his wife. Neither of those possibilities are attractive to me. I want to marry a decent man who will be faithful to me and be a good father, and yet…”

“You can’t stop thinking about him.”

Clara sighed. “Something needs to be done. I need to get him out of my head.”

“How can I help?”

Standing and crossing the room, Clara glanced down at the stack of cards on Sophia’s desk. “I don’t suppose you’ve gotten any more invitations for a
you-know-what
.”

Sophia rose from the bed and joined Clara at her desk. “I know very well
what
, and I thought you said those balls were appalling.”

“Well, they are, at least for married people who go there to be unfaithful.”

Sophia slowly shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. You can’t take a risk like that. What would Mrs. Gunther say?”

“You could be my chaperone, Sophia. We could go just for an hour or so. You said you’re anxious to start going out more since John was born, and James is usually at the House until quite late many nights.”

“I couldn’t go to a Cakras Ball without James, nor would I even want to be seen there without him. People might presume we are inconstant. Which we are not.”

“We could wear wigs and put on English accents. No one would recognize us.”

“Have you lost your senses? Even if we did manage to get there without anyone knowing, what are the odds that you would see this particular man again? He might not even be there.”

“Can’t we try? I must know who he is—a name at least. What if he’s the man I’m destined to marry?”

“Then you will meet him in a respectable situation.”

“How can you be sure? Maybe he only goes to the Cakras Balls.”

Sophia sighed with frustration. “What about everything you just said, about him being either a rake or a philanderer?”

Clara waved a finger at her older sister. “You told me James used to go to those balls when he was younger, and now look at him. He’s a perfect husband, Sophia. What if you had dismissed him because you’d discovered he attended those parties?”

Sophia was quiet for a moment. “I suppose you have me there.”

“I just want both of us to keep open minds.” A thrilling ripple of anticipation shimmied up Clara’s spine. “So you’ll come with me?”

Her sister hesitated, then went to her desk to sort through the invitations. “The Cakras Balls don’t always happen regularly. Sometimes I don’t get an invitation for months on end.”

She continued to flip through, then stopped and stared at Clara. She handed her a card. Excitement twittered in the air.

“Or sometimes, they come just when you want them to.”

Chapter 4

“If Mother could see us now, she’d forget to breathe and turn blue.” Sophia glanced out the dark window of the carriage as Livingston House came into view, then arranged her rhinestone and feather mask on her face. “And I don’t know what James will think when I tell him where we went tonight. I hope he won’t be angry.”

“You can blame it all on me,” Clara replied. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re sneaking out behind his back. In fact, we would have brought him with us if he hadn’t gone to Yorkshire.”

“I suppose. Nevertheless, I’ll explain it all when he returns home and hope for the best. We’re here. Are you sure you want to do this?”

Clara tried to suppress the nervous butterflies in her stomach as she, too, arranged her mask. She was about to take a huge risk by sneaking into a Cakras Ball, but she was also—if luck was on her side tonight—about to see her handsome paramour again.

Anticipation quivered up her spine. All this was both imprudent and exhilarating. Who knew what could happen in the next few hours?

“I’m sure. I need to see him in order to forget him and get on with my life.”

Sophia faced her squarely. “You can’t fool me, Clara. You’re not here to forget him, you’re here to see him again because you want him. I know you too well, and all I see in your eyes at the moment is desire. You’re dreaming that he’ll be here tonight and lead you under those stairs again.”

Clara stared speechless at her sister.

“And as your chaperone,” Sophia continued, “I shouldn’t let that happen. I should be telling you that you can dance with him, but under no circumstances should you be alone with him. This is a dangerous place, Clara, and if he’s not to be trusted—”

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything foolish, and I’m grateful to you for bringing me here. But I don’t want to presume that he’s not to be trusted, either. He didn’t ravish me the last time.”

“That was the last time. What if—when he sees you here after you’d been warned—he presumes you’re looking for a dalliance? He might think you’re fast.”

The carriage stopped in front of the dimly lit mansion. Clara gathered up her purse. “I’m not fast. I am morally upright, in perfect control of my impulses.”

Sophia smiled and raised a delicately arched brow. “Then what, pray tell, are we doing here?”

Clara smiled in return, surrendering unequivocally to her sister’s acute observation. They knew each other too well, and sometimes all that was necessary between them was a certain look to communicate what they were each thinking, which was usually the same thing.

“I’ve missed you,” Clara said.

Sophia hugged Clara. “I’ve missed you, too. I’m so glad we’re together again and I’m glad I can help you tonight, because despite my warnings, I do know how you feel. I felt the same way about James when we first met. I could barely survive each day, wanting him the way I did.” She squeezed Clara’s hand. “Who knows, maybe this man
is
your destiny. My, what a romantic I am.”

Clara sighed. “Or maybe I’ll discover that he’s the worst rogue in the world and he’s here tonight cheating on his wife, after losing half his fortune playing cards, and on top of that, when he sleeps, he snores like a buffalo.”

They shared an affectionate smile, then Sophia pulled on her long gloves. “With any luck, we’ll find out soon enough—at least about the first two things.”

The carriage door opened, and the ladies stepped out. Clara looked up at the huge stone front of the mansion, where the same burly man as last time stood in front of the door.

Sophia straightened her mantle. “You’re absolutely positive?”

“Yes. Let’s go and get this over with.”

They picked up their skirts and walked up the steps. A delightful shiver of anticipation ran through Clara. She could hardly believe she was here again, in this scandalous, forbidden place.

Sophia presented their invitation. The next thing they knew, they were inside, standing on the shiny, black and white checkered floor in the wide hall, handing their mantles over to the masked butler while the music of flutes and violins flitted to their ears from the ballroom.

“Does Lord Livingston ever greet his guests?” Clara asked as they ascended the stairs to the drawing room.

“No, there are never any introductions. Both Lord and Lady Livingston follow the same rules as everyone else. They mingle and dance with whomever they please, but no names are ever spoken.”

“You mean to say they carry on affairs under each others’ noses?”

Sophia sighed and leaned in to whisper close to Clara’s ear. “This country is different from ours. I’m afraid adultery is not all that uncommon among the nobles here, especially the men, and any public recognition of it by their wives is practically a cardinal sin.”

Clara immediately thought of her sister’s own marriage. “James isn’t like that, I hope.”

“Absolutely not. James was different from the rest. I knew it the first moment I met him.”

Clara considered this. If she herself married an Englishman who was later unfaithful, would she even be
capable
of ignoring it? She had been brought up with a radically different ideal, as all American girls were, with a Puritan attitude toward adultery as a Scarlet Letter sin.

They entered the crimson and gold drawing room, where elegant chintz fabrics covered all the chairs and chaises as well as the windows, and the walls were painted scarlet with gilt crown moldings. Clara tried to forget about her high ideals for the moment, reminding herself that Sophia had managed to find an honest, faithful English husband. Surely not all of them would turn out to be philanderers.

She glanced up at a huge crystal chandelier hung low in the center of the room. Most of the guests stood close to the walls, whispering and giggling in the dimly lit corners. The air was charged with the heat of secretive, wicked seductions.

“I don’t see him,” Clara whispered. “Maybe he’s in the ballroom.”

“Or maybe he’s in one of the private rooms already.”

Clara didn’t want to think about him in a private room with another woman, but she had to face the fact that that was a very real possibility. It was late, after all, and the night he had made advances upon her, he had moved quickly and effectively. By this hour, they had already ventured under the stairs. “Let’s try the ballroom.”

They smiled and nodded at the people they passed, and to make sure they fit in, accepted glasses of champagne from a footman who offered it.

Clara and Sophia entered the large ballroom and watched the couples waltz around the polished floor. The same orchestra that had played the last time was here again tonight, and the music was equally stupendous.

Clara couldn’t help thinking that from her vantage point, it could have been any other respectable ball—if not for the couple huddling behind a potted tree fern not three feet away from where she stood. Kissing.

A mixture of shock and fascination struck her.

She knew she should look away. She wanted to, but couldn’t.

The gentleman’s arms slid around the lady’s waist; she combed her fingers through his hair. Their mouths were open, as if they were famished and trying to gobble at each other.

Clara continued to stare. Even though she was uncomfortable with the spectacle and felt wretched for watching, it was the most erotic, stimulating thing she had ever seen.

Were those two people married to each other? she wondered, still staring at their mouths in motion.

All at once, she noticed other people staring, some moving closer to watch openly, others whispering and pointing. Clara’s cheeks suddenly ignited with an almost scalding heat.

Sophia leaned close and took her by the arm. She led her away toward the other side of the ballroom.

“Can you believe that?” Clara whispered. “I’ve never in my life seen anything like it.”

“I thought your mystery man kissed you.”

“He did, but I didn’t get to see what we looked like from afar. And at least he found us some privacy, so that we weren’t out in plain view.” She couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder again at the couple. They were now merely conversing and smiling. “It’s shocking that a place like this exists.”

Sophia smiled at a gentleman as he passed. “Yes, especially when you consider the social caliber of the guests. There are some very powerful, influential people here.”

They continued to move around the perimeter of the ballroom, watching the dancers. A gentleman caught Sophia’s eye and approached. “Care to dance?”

Sophia smiled graciously at him and disguised her voice with an English accent. “Please do except my apologies, sir, but I must decline at the moment. Perhaps later.”

He bowed cordially before moving on.

“I won’t be dancing with anyone tonight,” Sophia said, “and neither should you, except for the man we’re here to see. We must stay focused.”

“I agree entirely.”

They finished their champagne and set their empty glasses on a passing tray.

Clara continued to search the room with her eyes.

“Do you see him?”

“No. He’s not anywhere,” Clara replied, hearing the disappointment in her voice.

“Don’t give up yet. We’ll stay for a little while. Maybe he’s just late.”

“Or maybe he was here early, and left already.” She didn’t want to get her hopes up and feel even more disappointed later on.

Just then, a very grand-looking, golden-haired man in a black mask strolled into the ballroom. Looking relaxed and confident, he picked up a glass of champagne and let his gaze sweep around the room. Clara’s eyes narrowed.

She knew that walk… that hair… that body. It was him.
He was here
.

A hot thrill rushed through her, shooting into her belly like a firebrand. She stood motionless, intently watching him, not sure if she’d be able to move her legs if she tried. She was fixed to the spot, staring at all of him, from his beautiful head down to his shiny black shoes. He looked as handsome as she remembered. More so, after the week spent dreaming about him. She was completely thunderstruck by his powerful, breathtaking presence.