Earls Just Want to Have Fun (15 page)

She'd never cared about such matters before, and now that she was dressed up and adorned, she felt more like a doll than a person. Susanna had been so kind, and her brother too, in his way. She did not want to embarrass them.

“Lady Susanna,” she said, trying to ignore the flutters of nerves, “I haven't forgotten I owe you an adventure.”

The girl looked back at her with an expression of pure mischief on her face. “I was wondering when we'd come to that. Honestly, readying you for this ball was adventure enough for me.”

Marlowe shook her head. “No. I'll find a real adventure for you.”

“That will be difficult, since we're leaving directly for the country, but thank you, Marlowe.” Her expression had turned sad, and Marlowe cursed Lady Dane under her breath. The woman was such a tyrant.

As they started down the stairs, Marlowe realized not only the tyrant countess but her son would be waiting at the bottom. Her belly began to flutter again, making her feel as though she might cast up her dinner. Would he approve of the dress? Would she even make it through the ball without becoming sick on some important person or other? She must truly dislike Dane to feel ill every time she thought about him.

But when they reached the vestibule, only the butler was waiting for them. He helped Lady Susanna and then Marlowe don wraps, and informed them the countess and the earl were on their way.

A few moments later, both appeared. Marlowe almost forgot to breathe when she saw Dane. His wavy hair had been carefully arranged to fall over his forehead, and one lock of it curled against his cheek. His dark eyebrows rose when he saw her, and his lips curved in a sort of half smile. She did not know the name for the expression, but again, her belly lurched.

He was dressed in a black coat and a white shirt with a neckcloth that seemed to flow down his chest in ripples. Everything, including his waistcoat, was starched and white and perfect. His breeches were also black and quite snug, and his calves were shown off to advantage without his riding boots. She'd always preferred trousers on men, but now she could see the advantage of breeches.

“You look lovely,” he said. He took Susanna's hand and bowed over it, kissing her gloved knuckles, and then repeated the gesture with Marlowe. She almost laughed. It was the sort of thing she and Gideon would have done in jest, but when Dane did it, it was quite charming. She wondered if he had been speaking to Susanna or both of them when he'd given the compliment. Did he think she looked lovely? And why the bloody hell did she even care what he thought? She was turning into some sort of silly ninny.

“Yes, you will do,” the countess said with a quick nod. Marlowe refrained from rolling her eyes. She imagined it was the first of many times she would have to exercise such willpower this night.

The four of them departed and clambered into the earl's coach. Marlowe climbed in after the countess and her daughter, and Susanna indicated a spot beside her. “Sit here, Marlowe. You will feel more comfortable facing forward.”

“I…no, thank you.” Anything to avoid the countess. She sat across from Susanna and her mother and was surprised when Dane sat beside her.

“You do not want to sit facing forward?” he asked.

“Is that what I am supposed to do?”

“Good heavens!” the countess said. “Dane, do tell Johnny Coachman to drive on.”

And so she sat facing backward, staring out of the curtained windows and ignoring the little conversation occurring around her. Finally, Dane interrupted her thoughts. “What do you think?”

“The world seems to stream by very quickly,” she said.

“Does it?” He peered out as if to verify this fact. “Have you never been in a coach before?”

“Not when I could see anything,” she said, referring to the night he'd abducted her and covered her head with a sack.

“Really?” Susanna asked. “Not even a hackney cab?”

Marlowe shook her head. “If I had somewhere to go, I walked. There's nothing wrong with my legs.”

“True, but what if you had to travel a great distance?”

Marlowe shrugged. “No—”

“Do not move your shoulders in that fashion,” the countess scolded. “It is not ladylike.”

Marlowe wondered if anyone could see her roll her eyes in the darkness of the carriage.

“Haven't you ever been out of the city?” Dane asked.

“Course I have. I've been to Field Lane.”

The countess inhaled sharply, and Marlowe nodded. The lady should inhale sharply. Field Lane was no place for the likes of her. She would have been eaten alive.

“It's true that Field Lane is slightly beyond the city's parameters,” Dane said, “but I meant haven't you ever been to the country?”

“No. Why would I go there?”

“Why indeed?” his mother murmured.

“I've never been out of London, never ridden in a coach, never worn a fancy dress like this one,” Marlowe said. “I've never been to a ball. Maybe you'd better leave me in the carriage.” Her hopes almost began to rise at the suggestion. Perhaps she could find a way out of this predicament.

“Certainly not,” the countess said. Marlowe sighed. She'd hoped Xanthippe at least would be on her side. “The duchess invited you, and you will attend. But you will not speak unless it is absolutely necessary. No talk of Field Lane!”

Marlowe sincerely hoped the woman did not begin her long lecture of rules again. As though she didn't know enough not to bring up the dolly shops of Shoe Lane and Saffron Hill.

“I am certain Miss Marlowe has had many experiences we have not,” Susanna remarked. Marlowe narrowed her eyes at the girl. She'd sounded far too interested in the sorts of experiences Marlowe had had.

“That's true,” Marlowe said, “but they're not the sort of things you want to try. Although there's something to be said for walking the city at night. Parts of it are so quiet, so dark, that I can almost imagine I'm the only one who lives here. And on a clear night, when you can see the stars, I like to go to the Thames and watch their reflection in the water. They glitter like I imagine diamonds might.”

“That sounds exquisite,” Susanna said.

“Humph,” said the countess. “The river stinks.”

“That's true,” Marlowe admitted. “But I didn't mind so much. The only thing I ever minded was the hunger. I don't like being hungry.”

“We've noticed,” Dane said.

“But even that can be forgotten. Many a cold night I've stood with a group of people around a fire and listened to story after story. I could lose myself in those stories. That's why I wanted to read Shakespeare,” she said, looking at Susanna. “I've heard some of his stories.”

“Well, then, you shall learn,” Susanna said.

Dane did not speak, but she could feel his eyes on her for a long moment. And then he turned away and looked out the window on the other side. Marlowe went back to her window as well, watching the faces of the people they passed, people who stared in awe at such a fine conveyance and wondered what gods might be inside. She remembered watching a time or two as a fancy carriage passed her on the streets. She might catch a glimpse of a lady's face in the window, but usually the curtains were closed, and the occupants were a mystery. They passed a family walking on the street, and Marlowe waved to a little girl looking up at them. The little girl's eyes went wide.

Marlowe almost chuckled. Now the child would have a story to tell. Of course, no one would be very impressed had they known who she was. No one special, just someone pretending.

Finally, they arrived at the ball. At some point they had encountered other carriages also en route, and the line of vehicles made very slow progress. Marlowe thought she could have walked more quickly, but the countess forbade her from climbing out.

The progression of carriages finally moved forward, and Dane's carriage crawled to the front of the duchess's house. A slavey opened a door, and Marlowe waited for the family to exit. When Dane handed her down, she stood completely still and stared. The house was so bright it must have looked like daylight inside. She could not imagine how many candles must be burning. The cost of the candles alone was a fortune she could not imagine. Music floated out from the house's open doors. It was a beautiful noise, what she imagined an angel's song might sound like. Of course, she'd heard music before, but a fiddler in a public house could not compare to the vibrant sounds she heard coming from within.

“Do stop gaping and come along,” Lady Dane said, but Marlowe hardly heard. Dane took her arm and ushered her forward. There was so much to see. Everywhere she looked, men and women milled about, wearing clothing more beautiful than any she'd ever imagined.

And the jewels. If she got her hands on one measly earbob a lady dropped, Marlowe would be rich. She touched the gold chain Susanna had allowed her to wear and swore tonight she'd steal nothing. She'd already been the recipient of so many gifts. She wanted to deserve them.

Footmen in blue-and-gold livery lined the steps leading to the house before them. There must have been ten in all. Ten male servants, plus those opening carriage doors and serving inside. How many servants did the duchess employ?

Dane leaned close to her ear. “Lift your skirts.”

She drew back. “Fat chance!”

Lady Dane threw her an angry look. Marlowe took a breath. It was time to play her part. “I meant, I beg your pardon, sir!”

“It's
lord,
not
sir
, and I only meant you might want to lift the hem of the gown so you do not trip on it as we climb the steps.”

“Oh.”

“What did you think I meant?” He had a smile on his face, as though he thought all of this quite entertaining. She supposed, in his position, she might find it entertaining too. As it was, she was not entertained in the least. The more she considered this a job to be done, the easier it would be to survive. And Dane did say he would take her home early. Hopefully, he would tell her when to start feigning a megrim.

They ascended the steps and were greeted by another slavey who took their wraps. Susanna and the countess simply handed them over, but Marlowe was not so trusting. “What are you going to do with it?” she asked before she handed him the lovely India shawl Susanna had lent her.

“Take it to the coatroom, miss,” the footman said, looking a bit surprised.

“Will I get—will it be returned to me?”

“Of course.” Now he looked a bit offended. Ha! Well, if he only knew the blunt he could make fencing pelisses and wraps.

Another footman—they were positively legion—stepped forward to lead them to the ballroom. The countess was shaking her head, and Dane was smiling again. Marlowe knew she had made another misstep, but she could not seem to help it. If things did not improve, this night would be interminable.

Once they reached the ballroom, Dane handed the butler his invitation and then gestured to Marlowe. “Miss Marlowe is an addition to our party. It was Her Grace's suggestion.”

“Very good, my lord,” the butler said without even looking at Marlowe. He cleared his throat. “The Earl of Dane, the Countess of Dane, the Lady Susanna Derring, and Miss Marlowe.”

Marlowe thought it might have been her imagination, but several heads turned when her name was mentioned. And then they were moving forward again, toward a short line of men and women. “The receiving line,” Dane murmured in her ear. She wished he would stop whispering in her ear. His breath tickled and made her skin tingle. She felt far too warm, and it was most annoying. “Do not ask any questions. Just smile and nod. Watch my sister.”

Marlowe did as she was told. She curtsied until her legs wanted to buckle, she smiled until her face wanted to crack, and she did not open her mouth except to murmur, “It is a pleasure.” She greeted the Duke and Duchess of Abingdon's six children, their husbands and wives, as well as the duke and duchess themselves. Marlowe remembered the duchess from the previous day, and she was glad to see at least one familiar face.

Dane was about to lead her away, and Marlowe had even let out the slow breath she'd been holding, when the duchess spoke again. “Miss Marlowe, when we met yesterday afternoon, I did not learn your Christian name.”

“Ahhh…it was a pleasure, Duchess,” Marlowe said, looking at Dane.

“I am certain it was a pleasure, but what is your given name, gel, and where are you from? I cannot quite place your accent.”

Dane cleared his throat. “She is our cousin from the north, Duchess.”

“I see,” the duchess said, leaning her short, round body forward. Even Marlowe, who was rather short, could see the feather bobbing on the top of her head. “Where in the north?”

“Ah…Bath,” Marlowe said, naming the first place that came to mind. Satin had business in Bath at times.

“Bath?” the duchess asked, her brows rising.

“Yorkshire,” Dane said smoothly. He glanced at Marlowe. “You know very well Bath is not in the north.”

She smiled. “How silly of me. Yes, I'm from Yorkshire.”

“My brother has connections in Yorkshire. Do you know Viscount Grennoch? I believe his family name is Marlowe.”

“I can't say that I do.”

“Miss Marlowe is rather reclusive, Duchess,” Dane said. “That is why we invited her to Town. We wanted to broaden her horizons a bit.”

Marlowe bit back a laugh. As though she needed her horizons broadened.

“And what did you say your name was?” the duchess asked.

“Marlowe.”

“Yes, but your given name, gel.”

Marlowe glanced at Dane.

“You do not need to look at him to tell you your name, do you?”

“No. It's…” She could not think. She had always been good at thinking on her feet, but she was shaken. The music, the lights, remembering to use the correct accent, all this talk of York-whatever-it-was.