Forbidden (Scandalous Sirens) (19 page)

Vaughn’s fury grew. He looked away for a moment, scouring the crowd. There was a group of women nearby, including Caroline Munroe. The hostess was fanning herself vigorously, her head bent as she spoke amongst the women, who watched Elisa with varying degrees of distaste. Amongst them was the scornful redhead, the Duchess of Wessex.

Vaughn spun Natasha in a circle and looked back to Elisa. She had seen the direction of his gaze, then, for she looked to the woman, then back at him.

For a fraction of a moment, Elisa’s polite mask slipped. Vaughn saw bewilderment, hurt and a deep unhappiness pass across her face. She dropped her chin to stare at her hands folded demurely in her lap to hide it.

Bitter, black fury swamped him. He wanted to stalk over to the women bunched about the fireplace and scatter them like a wolf amongst chickens, give them a fright they’d not soon forget.

Every man here who looked down his nose at her—Vaughn wanted to take each one by the scruff of the neck and shake them until they saw sense.

He wanted to do something, anything, to take away that hurt, haunted look in her eyes.

And he could do nothing.

Nothing.

He was forced to dance with the girl in his arms. He must pretend he cared as little as the rest of them lest his interest in Elisa be revealed, and put her in far greater jeopardy.

His helplessness ate at his gut.
 
For the first time in his life he railed at the unbending forces of a society in which he had always found such a comfort.

Elisa’s cheeks grew hotter with every moment she sat alone on the straight-backed chair. Rufus had not paused to even acknowledge her presence. And now Vaughn had turned away from her, too involved with his pretty dance partner to see she desperately needed his company.

The Duchess of Wessex had taken her revenge for Elisa’s failure to leave the dinner table last night and she was feeling the full effects of it now.

Oh, how she yearned to stand up and tell them all the truth—that her only indiscretion had been loving a man who had clearly despised her, preferring the company of his whores and ignoring his wife and only son. Roger’s gossip had taken on a life of its own when he had started the rumors of her liaisons, all of which were
 
fabricated to cover the truth that he was the drunk, the gambler and the philanderer.

When Elisa had stepped out of her room and made her way down to the first floor, she noticed all the people wandering about the manor house.
 
She traversed the very wide corridor, taking in the majestic art, hand-carved chairs and ornate sideboards and settees.
 
Then she made the mistake of looking from a beautiful tapestry to a woman and her escort.
 
The woman’s taken-aback expression made Elisa wonder if her dress was somehow indecent. Looking straight ahead, Elisa forced herself to focus on the night ahead and ignore the whispers behind hands and fans that rippled ahead of her down the passage
.

Then she came to the wide landing where many more of the guests were mingling, watching the dancers come and go in the hall below.

Caroline was there and Elisa felt herself smile in genuine relief. With Caroline, she could be assured at least some pleasant company and an absence of cattiness.

But the moment Caroline saw her, she started and her eyes widened. Elisa began to cross the room towards her, but Caroline picked up her skirts. Her face was stony, utterly unforgiving and Elisa halted where she was. She had seen that expression too many times to misinterpret it. Someone had acquainted Caroline with Elisa’s past misdeeds.

Elisa could feel herself begin to tremble and she looked around, wondering where she might turn and hide, if there was any sanctuary to run to.

That was when she saw the satisfied smile of the Duchess of Wessex, who stood slowly waving her fan from side to side. Cynthia let her smile broaden, then picked up her train and with a disdainful flick of the black lace, turned and walked away.

Elisa felt as if a hammer had hit her in the stomach. She had not expected such overt hostility—in truth, she had forgotten how truly cruel people could be and it had caught her unprepared.

How many people had the Duchess favored with the tidbits about her life? Then she remembered the rippling tide of rumor sweeping down the hall in front of her and had her answer.

Everyone knew.

With legs that felt like lead, Elisa walked to the top of the stairs, preparing to climb down and find Rufus, as a proper wife would. She had paused at the top, trying to scrape together her courage, as well as simply find the strength to descend the steps.

Finally, she took a step down and then another.
 
Then it became easier. She avoided looking directly at anyone and walked straight over to the ballroom. She sighted Rufus and an empty chair by his side and walked over to it. Gratefully, she sank onto the seat and swore she would stay there and speak to no one until she could safely excuse herself and hide away in her room once more.

Until she saw Vaughn with his arm around Natasha and his keen-eyed glance at the group of women by the fireplace, where the Duchess of Wessex was holding court.

She suddenly yearned for the sanctuary of Fairleigh Hall. She was safe there. She was hidden from the rest of the world. And once she made it back, she would never risk emerging again.

Someone cleared his throat and when Elisa looked up she found Vaughn standing before her. Her heart lurched. How handsome he looked tonight in his formal attire. The black suit and white shirt had been perfectly tailored, fitting him like a second skin. The jacket served to emphasize the wide expanse of his shoulders. The breeches clung to his muscular long legs.

Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air.

“May I have the honor?” he asked, extending his hand.

Sheer gratitude outweighed her reluctance to cause a spectacle. Vaughn had not abandoned her, after all.

Rufus, who had been busy talking, now stopped and tapped his cane on the floor. “There is a young lady who is vying for your attention, boy. Why do you bother wasting time on your stepmother?”

Vaughn turned to his father, his expression unreadable. Elisa prayed he did not comment about Rufus’ use of the word stepmother, as though they were already married.

“I’ve danced with Natasha and now I’d like to dance with my future stepmother.” He turned back to her. “Please dance with me?”

Though her better judgment was telling her to say no, she took his hand. She all but floated out on the dance floor and when he held her in his arms, she wanted only to get closer. She wanted to feel the beat of his heart against her own. In this room full of strangers and people who disliked her, he was the only one who acknowledged her. But rather than cling to him as she wanted to, she kept a careful distance, every nerve on edge.

“You look stunning tonight.” His voice was cautiously low.

Elisa glanced up into his handsome face. His eyes were dark with some hidden emotion, but his smile was warm. “Thank you.”

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. It had a hard edge to it. “I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

He frowned and she wished she could take the words back. “I mean the ball, not here, this moment,” she said quickly.

“I know what you meant,” he said quietly, and his firm tone reassured her. Then he hadn’t missed her glance at the Duchess of Wessex and her chorus.

Elisa couldn’t help but glance at them again. Of course, they were openly ogling her as she dared to dance with a man. It wouldn’t matter that he was, in theory, her stepson. They would pounce on the fact that he was handsome and single and it would be noticed that she enjoyed herself and danced much too energetically.

She tried to look away, but her gaze kept pulling back to the fireplace.

“You’re frowning, sweet Elisa.”

She forced a smile and looked at his necktie—a neutral view that would not give away her true thoughts.

But Vaughn appeared to read her mind. Very quietly, he swore and the curse made her look back at his face, surprised.

He shook his head a little, a furrow between his brows.

“Let them talk,” he said, his tone harsh. “Let them wonder. I can assure you I’m not the first son who ever danced with his father’s fiancée.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yes, it is. It’s just that easy. Do you really care what they think, Elisa? Do you think Rufus cares?”

She shook her head.
  
“No.”

“What could their vicious words do that could possibly harm you?” he asked reasonably.

Because their vicious words took away her son. The truth was so close to bubbling out of her mouth, but she held it back. “You are right,” she told Vaughn, managing a shaky smile. “I’m being silly.”

His sharp look and the shrewd narrowing of his eyes told her he had seen past her airy acknowledgement, but she kept her smile firmly in place. He did not pursue the matter, although he became quiet after that.

The music stopped and Elisa knew this would be her one and only dance with Vaughn tonight. To dare to take another would only cause speculation and Rufus would never let her forget it.

“Thank you, Elisa,” Vaughn said stiffly, bowing over her hand as he sat her back on her chair.

He turned away and was instantly surrounded by people clamoring for his attention, including Natasha and a good handful of young misses.

Elisa smiled, but she was screaming inside.

Nearly an hour passed when Rufus stood and turned to her. He extended his arm. “Let us partake of the fresh air on the terrace.” It was the first time he had looked at her or spoken to her directly since she had sat on the chair.

But Elisa wanted nothing more than to escape the stifling room. She made eye contact with no one, focusing instead on the double doors that beckoned.

Would this excursion outside mean Rufus would want to retire soon? Or perhaps he would sit in for a card game and give her license to retire for the evening.

Rufus opened the door and motioned her out on the terrace. She breathed deeply of the cool air, hoping it would take the burning from her cheeks. Rufus led her to the low stone balustrade.

Familiar laughter came from nearby.

Elisa’s heart jumped a little. That was Vaughn’s laugh, the low, intimate chuckle she heard only when she was in his arms.

She peered into the dark, trying to see through shadows. At the far end of the terrace, where wisteria hung in fragrant, discrete bowers, a couple stood locked in a lovers’ embrace.

Her pulse jumped. The height of the man, the width of his shoulders, was unmistakable.

It was Vaughn.

The woman’s arms were entwined around his neck, her face lifted up to his. Natasha. Had she already been kissed, or was she yearning for her first? Vaughn’s hands were about her waist, the strong hands and long fingers that had smoothed their way along Elisa’s body just the other night.

A sickly hot wave passed through her, leaving her dizzy and nauseous. Her heart thudded unevenly and for a moment her sight seemed to fade. The emotions that wrenched at her were far too extreme to be called simple jealousy. She felt betrayed in the most intimate way possible and she had absolutely no recourse.

She swallowed against the sickness and tried to keep her irregular pulse even and her breathing calm.

“Look, my dear, we’ve interrupted young lovers!” Rufus said loudly.

Natasha quickly pushed away from Vaughn and stood with her head down, shamed. Vaughn immediately stepped into the light, away from Natasha and it seemed to Elisa, a little in front of her. Protecting her? His expression was vexed. He ran a hand through his already ruffled hair.

Natasha was protesting her innocence. “Lord Wardell, I needed a breath of fresh air and Vaughn was good enough to—”

“Assist you?” Rufus finished for her, a wide smile on his face. “You should go back inside before speculation runs rampant.” Rufus sneered at his son. “Unless, of course, that is what you want.”

It was then Elisa realized that Rufus had wanted her to see Vaughn’s arms around another woman. He wanted her to know she would never be anything to Vaughn, that he would one day marry someone younger, more suitable, and…more beautiful.

“My father is right,” Vaughn murmured, extending his arm to Natasha. The young woman, with considerable poise, took his arm and allowed him to lead her past Elisa and Rufus without another word.

Elisa watched them return to the ballroom, unable to dissemble and hide her feelings, unable to think beyond the pain of Vaughn’s betrayal.

Rufus stepped back to her side. “The young are so careless.” He put his hand at the middle of her back. “How typically selfish of Vaughn to fail to consider the consequences of kissing a pure girl right under her father’s roof.”

Elisa’s throat was so tight she could do nothing but nod in agreement. Could Rufus see absolutely everything in her face? Surely he must!

“Shall we return to the party?” Rufus asked, already pulling her along.