Beloved (8 page)

“Mr. Wokingham, I am Mrs. Able. The Reverend Able’s wife. Your father and my husband have met on a number of occasions, but
of course, you know that. We don’t see you in church, but your family has a long and happy history with St. Cecil’s. I understand
Octavius introduced our little Precious to you at the Rectory when you were last in Lancashire. I’m sorry I wasn’t at home
on that occasion.”

Pomeroy hadn’t had his fill of the red-haired girl’s breasts. “Regrets are mutual on this occasion.” Slowly, his attention
slid to Mrs. Able. “Please give my regards to your husband.” With that he contrived to stand between the Ables and Ella. “As
I was saying, Miss Rossmara, we should take a turn around the gardens.”

“It isn’t warm,” Mama said. “I don’t think Ella and I should enjoy being outside.”

“Ella will have the benefit of my cloak,” Pomeroy said, barely parting his thin lips. “Lord Hunsingore thought that an admirable
idea.”

Alarm flashed over Mama’s face. “You cannot possibly be suggesting that the two of you…Well, can you?”

“Come, come now,” Pomeroy said, very quietly. “We should not pretend about certain things, should we, my lady?”

Mrs. Able’s red-haired daughter was not to be so easily dismissed. She thrust herself into the tight circle Pomeroy had accomplished
with Ella and her mother.

Pomeroy ignored the girl. “I’m Precious,” she said to Ella. “My mama says we’re both making our first Seasons. I scarcely
know a soul but dear Pom, here. Do I, Pom?” She tucked a hand beneath his elbow and pressed against him.

“Don’t you?” he said. A nerve twitched at the corner of his eye.

“You know I don’t,” Precious said. Her voice had a childish quality quite unsuited to her full-blown appearance. “You silly
man. You remember perfectly well the way we talked about how lonely I’d be in London. Except for when I’m with you, of course.”

A vein pulsed visibly in Pomeroy’s temple. “Won’t your mother be looking for you…
Precious
?”

“I’m right here, Mr. Wokingham,” Mrs. Able warbled from behind him. “Don’t give me another thought. I know my Precious is
in good hands with you.”

Ella felt closer to laughter than she had all evening. “I’m pleased to meet you, Precious,” she said, smiling at the girl.
She could hardly be blamed for poor dressmaking or an un- fortunate voice. “Mr. Wokingham is anxious to walk in the gardens.
Do say you’ll accompany him.”

“Oh, I will. I will, indeed I will,” Precious said. “Come along, Pom. You can show me the shrubbery.” She tittered giddily.

At that moment a striking, very familiar face came into view. “Devlin,” Ella exclaimed. “Mama, it’s Devlin North. You know,
of Northcliff Manor.” Devlin’s Scottish home bordered Castle Kirkcaldy lands.

“I could hardly forget.” There was a degree of reserve in Lady Justine’s voice. “Even though it’s been some years.”

Devlin caught sight of Ella over the heads of the crowd and grinned. Nodding and murmuring to people who greeted him as he
passed, he threaded a path to Ella and her mother.

“Devlin,” Ella said, delighted. “I didn’t know you were in London.” She felt Pomeroy Wokingham’s hovering presence but refused
to as much as glance at him.

“I’m very often in London, my dear,” Devlin said. He took Mama’s unresisting hand and kissed it lightly. “It’s always a pleasure
to see you, my lady,” he told her.

She breathed deeply and said, “I hope you’re well, Mr. North.”

“Please. It’s Devlin.”

Finally she allowed him a smile. “Devlin, then. It’s been a long time since we last met.”

A long time since Papa and Mama had mistakenly thought Devlin was seeking to court Ella—whom they’d considered much too young
at the time. In fact, Devlin had been bringing news of Saber’s condition following a battle injury in India.

“It was nice to meet you, Ella,” Precious Able said. “Pom and I are going outside, aren’t we, Pom?”

Ella looked at Precious with a kind smile. “Make sure he lends you his cloak. It’s cool.”

“Oh, he will, won’t you, Pom?” Precious said, urging him away. “Come along, Mama.”

Pomeroy all but trembled with barely restrained fury, but the odd trio progressed in the direction of French doors that opened
onto a terrace. Ella watched only long enough to note that Mrs. Able did not accompany her daughter and Pomeroy outside.

“Nice affair,” Devlin said, surveying the glittering company.

Mama shifted her weight. “Very,” she agreed. When she stood for too long the childhood injury that had left her with a limp
caused her discomfort.

“You look very lovely, Ella.”

“Thank you.”

“And the color of poppies always did become you, my lady,” Devlin said to Mama.

“Thank you.”

Have you spoken to Saber?
“Have you been in London long this time, Devlin?” If only she could speak to him alone. He might know something—some way
to reach Saber and make him explain his behavior.

“I’ve been in and out of London in recent years. My business brings me here.”

“I see.”

“Are Arran and Grace planning to be in Town to help with your launch?” he asked, speaking of Papa’s brother and his wife.

“They’ll come for the ball Papa and Mama intend to give for me at the end of the Season,” Ella told him, trying to sound animated.
“And Calum—I mean the Duke of Franchot, and Pippa are to give me a ball, too.”

Devlin studied her intently. “The entire family gathering around, hmm?”

“My brother, Max, may not be able to come for either af- fair. He’s at Eton. But Mama’s grandmama is to arrive at any moment.”

Devlin grinned. “The formidable Dowager Duchess of Franchot. We should all quake.”

Ella raised her chin. “Great-Grandmama Franchot is my friend. We understand each other.”

“Ouch!” Devlin pretended to ward off a blow. “Forgive me. I intended no insult to your venerable relative.”

She did punch him playfully then. “You fun me, sir.” Mama tweaked the pleats at the waist of her full skirt. “Perhaps we should
find your papa,” she said. “The Marquess of Casterbridge wanted to discuss some matter with him, but I’m sure Struan will
be missing us by now.”

“He will be missing you,” Ella said boldly. “Why don’t you go and rescue him. I shall be perfectly safe with Devlin, won’t
I?” She turned innocently trusting eyes up to his. They were green, but not the deep, hypnotic green of Saber’s.

Devlin’s affable grin appeared again. Unfortunately, on Devlin’s exceedingly handsome face, an affable grin took on a wolfish
quality.

Mama’s disapproving sigh could not be missed, but she addressed Devlin directly. “I entrust Ella to you for the moment, sir.
She likes you. And she has not been happy. If your company pleases her and lifts her spirits, you will have done us all a
service. But have a care. One false step and you will bring the wrath of the Rossmara men upon your head—and my brother, the
duke, will be with them. However, I feel a certain warmth toward you. Why, I may never be certain. Prove my feelings warranted,
if you please.”

As Mama left them, Ella felt color mount in her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she told Devlin. “My parents are very protective of me.”

“Yes,” he said, his tone changed. He sounded sharp, almost angry. “I’m thirsty. Let me take you for refreshments.”

Ella studied his face for some clue to his humor but found none, except for an odd lack of any emotion at all. “Thank you,”
she told him, frowning slightly. “That would be delightful.”

He offered her his arm, and she placed a hand decorously upon it. She didn’t fail to note the envious stares of both matrons
and their unattached daughters as she passed with Devlin. “Shipping,” she heard several times. And “She’s dark. Like a gypsy”
reached her ears.

Ella raised her chin even higher, but lengthened her stride. “Do not hurry, little one,” Devlin said softly. “They are jealous.
You are the most beautiful creature in the room, and they hate you for it.”

“I am nobody,” Ella said before she could stop herself.

He glanced down at her and murmured, “There, you are wrong. You are most definitely somebody. I only wish—” He pressed his
lips together for an instant. “It’s imperative that we find a place where we won’t be interrupted.”

She drew in a short, sharp breath. “I have something to give you. From a friend.”

Rather than escort her into the banquet room where tables groaned beneath the weight of delicacies as pleasing to the eye
as to the tongue, Devlin turned Ella toward a passageway that led to a door behind the foot of a great, curving marble staircase.

On the other side of the door, he held a finger to his lips and shut them inside a room lined with serving carts. “Read this,”
he told her, holding out a sheet of paper folded into a square. “Read it quickly. We don’t have much time.”

Ella opened it slowly.

“Hurry,” Devlin ordered. “If you are missed, we shall both regret this.”

With suddenly cold fingers Ella flattened the paper and held it where candlelight shone from a sconce.
“Ella,”
she read.
“Your persistence plagues me. If you can finally accept that what we might have shared can never be, forget that I sent this
note. If you still doubt the inevitable, come to me now. Devlin will help you. Saber.”

She grasped Devlin’s sleeve.

“Ella?” He bent solicitously over her. “Are you ill?”

“No,” she told him when she could speak. “Shocked, but not ill. Where is he? In Burlington Gardens.”

“He is here.”

Ella glanced around.

“No. Not here in this room. But he is in this house. Waiting for you in a chamber on an upper floor. Evidently you begged
him to be here and he has responded to your request.”

“Take me to him.”

Devlin made as if to touch her hair, but let his hand drop. “You are certain you want to see him?”

“Yes,” she said urgently. “Yes, yes. There is nothing else I want in life but to see Saber.”

He bowed formally. When he straightened, his face was grim. “No more delay, then. I shall take you up stairs usually reserved
for servants and pray we do not encounter any of them. They should all be busy with the Eagletons’ guests.”

Ella did not care who saw them. She followed Devlin past a heavy green curtain covering the entrance to a staircase so narrow
that her full skirt brushed the walls as she climbed.

Turn after turn brought one short flight of steps after another until they arrived behind a second heavy curtain—this one
screening a short passage and another door.

When Devlin opened the door, the muffled sounds of the soiree reached Ella’s ears. They were on a balcony above the great
hall.

Her heart turned. She paused a moment and Devlin stopped the instant he realized she was no longer behind him. He frowned
and gestured for her to come.

Pressing a hand to the bodice of her gown as if to calm her heart, she joined him before yet another door, this one framed
by a gothic stone arch.

The heavy, studded oak door stood slightly open. No light showed beyond.

Ella looked at Devlin.

He took her hand and pressed it between both of his. “Saber is waiting for you. Remember, he has suffered, Ella. He suffers
still. If his manner is not exactly as you recall, be generous. Don’t judge him harshly. He cares for you.”

Saber cared for her, yet he repeatedly refused to see her. And now he would see her to prove she had been mistaken in wanting
to do so.

“Thank you,” Ella told Devlin. “I think it would be best if you returned to the company. I shall find my own way back.”

He looked at her for a moment, then turned away and did as she suggested without another word.

Ella rested the fingertips of her right hand on the door and pushed it open.

N
othing moved.

Beyond the leaded casement a cloud-covered moon cast the dimmest of light into a violet-tinged black sky.

Ella, her arms pressed to her sides, took a step into the room.

“Close the door.”

She jumped and peered around. “Close it, Ella.” Saber’s voice. “Where are you?”

“Do as I ask.”

“Yes.” Yes, she had nothing to fear from her old friend. She pushed the door until the latch clicked like a gunshot in the
room’s heavy stillness.

“There is a key in the lock. Turn it.”

Saber’s voice, but not exactly as she remembered it. Ella turned the key.

“Come here.”

Her hands went to her throat. “Where are you?”

“Near the window.”

“Can’t we light a lamp?”

“I find that when there is nothing to distract the attention— such as looking upon another—one may truly hope for the touching
of minds.”

He sounded … angry? “I have pressed you, Saber. You are annoyed with me, but I…I have so longed to be with you.”

A slight movement caught her eye, a tall shadow, darker against the suggestion of draperies at the casement. “Come to me,
Ella.”

She could not force enough air into her body. The night and the room were one, one with the man she could not see—all pressing
in, surrounding and drawing her. Deeper to a place she desired and feared at once.