Enchanted by Your Kisses (8 page)

"Ruined?" Ariel supplied.

Her shoulders hunched as she settled back in her chair. Late afternoon light from the window to her left highlighted her black hair as she shook her upswept curls. They wore day dresses, neither of them having any plans to go out that evening, much to Ariel's disappointment. Ariel looked forward to the expressions on people's faces when she returned to society again. She withheld her grin with effort.

"Well, yes, more so than you already are."

"Phoebe, I doubt a person can be ruined to different levels. It's like being with child—either you are or you aren't—there's no in between. Ruined is ruined. Frankly, I have nothing to lose."

"It is madness," Phoebe argued. "Utter madness. Yes, your reputation is somewhat tarnished—"

"Somewhat?" Ariel scoffed, snorting. "That is an understatement."

"Very well, you're quite horribly ruined," and here her cousin's eyes dimmed in the light. "After last eve I suppose there's no sense in thinking otherwise."

No, indeed, Ariel silently agreed.

"Still, doing as this man suggests is ridiculous, far too risky. Why, the very thought of it fair bogs my mind. I cannot imagine what you are thinking. Why, your father will string me from a
gallow
should he hear of it."

"But that's the beauty of it," Ariel said, collecting her light pink skirts before settling in a chair next to her. She leaned forward, reaching out to clasp Phoebe's hand. "My father will hear nothing of this until after he returns. By then the engagement will already have been called off."

"But will not people think it odd that you've become engaged whilst your father is out of the country?"

Ariel released Phoebe's cold hand then settled back in her seat. "No, for we shall put it about that we were engaged prior to his leaving."

"But your father will know that to be a lie."

"Yes, he will, but I will deal with that later." Frankly, she doubted her father would even care. After her ruination their relationship had deteriorated. Granted, they'd never been close, but her scandalous behavior had destroyed what little affection there had been.

"You have it all planned out, I see," Phoebe said with a concerned frown.

"I do."

Still her cousin shook her head, her lower lip captured between her teeth. "I do not like it, Ariel. How can you trust this Nathan
Trevain
? Why, he is a stranger to this land. We know nothing of him other than the fact that he is
Davenport
's heir. Why, he could be anybody."

Ariel rolled her eyes at such a fanciful notion. "Do not be ridiculous, Phoebe."

But Phoebe didn't look convinced.

"When do you plan on announcing your news?" she asked.

"At the
Fitzherberts
tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? But isn't that rather soon?"

Ariel shrugged. "Tomorrow or the next day, it makes no never mind. You shall see. 'Twill all work out." She leaned forward again and patted her cousin's hand.

But Cousin Phoebe held firm in her disapproval. She made it quite known, too. Oh, not to her husband. No, what they discussed would forever remain between the two women. But in private Phoebe made it abundantly clear that she thought Ariel a
nodcock
.

"But you make a beautiful
nodcock
, though," she said the next evening, adjusting the cameo that hung from a black satin ribbon tied around Ariel's neck. "Still, I'm half tempted to strangle you with this ribbon. Truly,
Arie
, I wish you had not agreed to this."

Ariel didn't comment. Why, when they'd discussed it a hundred times already? Instead she studied her appearance. Her cousin did have excellent taste, despite being two years her junior. But Phoebe had always had excellent taste, except, perhaps, in her friends: Ariel in particular. She knew her cousin took a great risk in bringing her to
London
, yet the kind-hearted Phoebe hadn't cared. For that Ariel would forever be grateful and if possible love her cousin even more.

"You were correct, Phoebe. The maroon is not as garish as I supposed it would be. You have an excellent eye."

The compliment didn't soften the frown on Phoebe's brow. Ariel suspected nothing short of finding a pot of gold could do that.

"Yes, well, you are fortunate to be of age to wear the color. It looks wonderful on you. The
modiste
did an excellent job fitting the gown to your figure."

And she had, though Ariel could wish it didn't fit
quite
so well. The tight-
waisted
garment had panniers atop the skirt. The two large loops of fabric made her waist appear even smaller. Ariel tugged at the neckline. A bit low, perhaps, but she'd been assured its dip was all the rage. So were the large, black bows that dotted the middle of her skirt. A large bow rested just below the neckline, too, something Ariel suspected was done on purpose to draw men's attention to her bosom. She almost shrugged. Phoebe's own dress was similar in style, only the color was more sedate: pale blue to match her cousin's beautiful eyes. Ariel reasoned that if she looked half as stylish as her cousin, she should be pleased, although it made no difference, for there was no one she wanted to impress.

Oh?
asked a voice.
Not even Mr.
Trevain
?

Certainly not,
she answered.

Still, when the time came to go downstairs and then to get in the carriage, she felt so nervous she could barely stop her hands from shaking like old Lady
Alberly's
. It didn't help that Phoebe kept shooting her dark looks meant to remind her of the childhood governess they'd shared. She did a remarkable job of glowering in exactly the same manner as that good lady. The one blessing was that Reggie had elected to go to his club instead of accompanying them to the ball. The wise Reggie would have known something was up. Why Phoebe had decided not to tell him of their plan Ariel couldn't fathom, but the end result was that Reggie was blissfully unaware of the stir his wife and cousin by marriage would cause that evening. Ariel rather wished she could join him at White's. What she wouldn't give to be able to smoke away her troubles.

It took them a short amount of time to reach the
Fitzherberts
'. Ironically, the wait to descend from the carriage was longer than the drive. Ariel hadn't specifically been invited to the soiree. Phoebe had been the recipient of the coveted invitation. Ariel rather doubted their hostess had her in mind when she'd scribbled "and guest" upon the card.

The dancing had already begun, obviously, when they arrived, for she could hear the sound of violins playing inside, something energetic what with feet tapping the floor rhythmically. It was crowded inside but warm compared to outside. Those gentlemen not escorting ladies were off to one side of the door, smoking. The air was filled with the scent of burning tobacco. The younger ones made no secret of gawking at ladies who arrived. Ariel tried not to feel self-conscious as they eyed her up and down. One of them dipped his head toward his friend, the rest of them bursting into laughter. She blushed, knowing they spoke of her, and not in kind terms, judging by the snickers.

"Perhaps I should have insisted Reggie accompany us," Phoebe muttered, as they passed.

"No," Ariel answered quickly, lifting her chin and pretending to ignore them. "'
Tis
better he is not here. Once word spreads of my engagement, he will be furious at you for not telling him."

"
Hmph
. I suppose you are correct. I only hope word does not reach him at his club."

Ariel looked at her cousin's frowning face. "Why didn't you tell him?"

"I was too lily-livered."

Despite her nervousness, Ariel found herself smiling. "I believe Reggie will not disapprove as strongly as you believe. In fact, it might be well to have him in on the plan. He could play the role of my protector in the event Mr.
Trevain
has ulterior motives."

"Do you think he might?" Phoebe said quickly, her face instantly filling with concern.

Ariel cursed her tongue for a moment. "No, no, no. I was just jesting."

Liar,
murmured that annoying little voice in her head.

And Ariel knew she was. She couldn't trust him or any man, not ever again. She'd learned that lesson the hard way. No, it was best to be on her guard and keep her fears to herself. She clutched her skirts as she made her way toward the line of people waiting to be announced, tilting her chin up for good measure. No man would ever get the better of her. Not again.

But her concern over her fears was forgotten as they stopped at the back of the line. Obviously word of her return to society had spread, for if she'd thought her reception the evening before had been cool, it was nothing compared to tonight's. Ladies actually turned their back on her, their lords raising quizzing glasses, brows arched beneath sausage-roll wigs. She felt like a condemned felon. And though she tried hard not to let their actions hurt her, standing there waiting to be announced was one of the hardest things she'd had to do in a long time. Things were made worse in that Phoebe shared in her humiliation. Poor, innocent Phoebe, who's face had paled, two bright spots of color burning near her ears. Her small hands were clenched in the folds of her gown, the sapphire necklace she wore sparkling nearly as brightly as her eyes.

"They should all be shot," she murmured furiously.

And instantly Ariel felt her humiliation fade. How could it not when she had such a champion by her side?

She reached for her cousin's hand, squeezed it, blue eyes meeting gold in a moment of commiseration. Though they were two years apart, Phoebe felt closer to her in age at the moment than ever before. Odd that Phoebe was younger and yet still considered to be Ariel's chaperone because of her marriage.

"You are the best of cousins, Phoebe."

"I am your only cousin."

"And a better one I could not ask for."

Blue eyes instantly softened, filled with sympathy. "If they knew you as I do, Ariel, they would not look at you thus."

No need to ask who they were, and best to look away from Phoebe before she did something embarrassing, like cry. She turned. And froze.

There he stood.

By the entrance to the ballroom he leaned nonchalantly against the wall. Lords and ladies eyed him, some in curiosity, for his scar was noticeable inside the ballroom. Others eyed him no doubt because of who he was, or more specifically, who he would one day be. She eyed him back, feeling pinned in his stare, like one of Reggie's butterfly experiments. For a moment she felt just as immobile, too. The line advanced. People still snickered and stared, but she just stood there.

"Ariel, move forward."

It was Phoebe's voice reaching her as if from a distance. Ariel blinked, forced herself to look away, turning to her cousin to smile—and she had no idea where she pulled that smile from—and to do as asked. What was it about the man that tugged at her so? Was it that she felt sorry for him? Or was it something more?

"Forgive me, Phoebe. Seeing Mr.
Trevain
there startled me."

Phoebe's eyes widened. "He is here?" she asked in a low voice.

"Aye. By the entrance to the ballroom." They both looked in that direction, Ariel stiffening when she realized he was no longer there. Instead he was making his way toward them. And as she watched him advance, Ariel was reminded of a panther. Once again that inner voice spoke. It fairly screamed
danger.
Heat fired through her body so instantly her heart pounded in her ears. She felt flushed of a sudden, and frightened.

"Lady Ariel
D'Archer
," he said, when he gained their side.

The couple in front of them turned, the gentleman eyeing Mr.
Trevain
up and down. When he got to the face, Ariel watched as his expression turned to one of revulsion before he quickly turned away. The sight angered her, for Mr.
Trevain's
face was not at all unpleasant. Certainly it was not perfect, but nobody was perfect.