The Keys of Love (12 page)

Then Lady Butterclere's mouth open in outrage and astonishment. Next, Romany, her hairdo bobbing on her head with indignation.

This was very cruel of the Duke, thought Henrietta,
cruel
! Yet the beat of his heart so close to hers did not feel cruel. His breath, stirring the curls on her forehead, did not feel cruel. His fingers entwining hers did not feel cruel.

‘
What is happening to me
?' she cried to herself in alarm.

She tried to twist away from the Duke's breast, but his arm around her waist tightened and he bent his head to her ear.

“What, do you still harbour such distaste for the company of the Duke of Merebury?” he murmured.

Henrietta flushed.

“The last time I was asked a question like that,” she replied stiffly, “it was posed by a certain Joe the g-groom.”

“The last time I heard an answer to a question like that,” replied the Duke gravely, “it was given by a certain Miss Harrietta Reed not by
Sadie the saloon girl
.”

Henrietta flushed an even deeper red.

“M-meaning?”

The Duke raised his eyebrow.

“Meaning we both seem to have a certain talent for disguise!”

Henrietta was flustered.

What on earth would he say if he knew that she was actually in disguise
twice over
, that the person he knew as Miss Reed was as unauthentic as
Sadie the
saloon girl
?

“I ask again,” he persisted. “Do you still harbour a distaste for my company?”

Henrietta closed her eyes. Oh, how she wished she could confess that her heart was now opening like a flower beneath his blazing scrutiny, her flesh melting like snow at his urgent touch.

Yet she dared not could not!

He was destined for another and she had become known to him in such a way that all future contact between them was impossible.

She must remain Harrietta Reed to him or forfeit forever any shred of respect he might have for her.

“I h-have no feelings regarding your presence one way or the other,” she ventured lamely. “It's just that I-I do not feel I should be dancing with you like this since I am nothing but a a mere piano player.”

“Never ‘
mere
',” added the Duke softly. “You are exceptional. I could not take my eyes from you when you were playing. You seemed to deliver yourself up, to burn with devotion and I could not help but wonder what other cause might elicit such devouring passion ”

His words trailed away.

When she looked up, his jaw had tightened as if he was forcing himself to say no more.

She cast about for some innocuous response to his words, but could find none.

The two whirled on in silence, his brow indicating a struggle within himself that she, lost in new sensations, did not notice.

The ardour in his voice stirred her and rendered her helpless in his arms.

She felt herself lost as never before to the moment.

‘Everything would be just perfection,' she sighed to herself, ‘if only I was here as Miss Radford and not Miss Reed and if only Romany Foss
did not exist
!'

The Duke's voice now intruded on what she guiltily knew to be an uncharitable thought.

“So, Miss Reed, what other unlikely talents do you possess? Apart from playing the piano?”

The unexpected levity of his tone confused her.

“Oh, I can hunt racoon and shoot rapids and play poker as well as any man!” she responded airily.

The Duke threw back his head with a laugh.

“
Touché
, Miss Reed,” he murmured.

The music ended with a flourish.

Henrietta imagined the Duke would release her and she began to withdraw her hand from his. To her surprise, however, his grip tightened yet again.

“I am not yet ready to let you go, madam,” he said.

Exclaiming, she found herself swiftly manoeuvred through the open French doors and out onto the terrace.

She was glad of the fresh breeze on her hot cheeks.

They stood, she panting, he taking deep controlling breaths, his eyes fixed on her face.

“So what is this all about?” he demanded.

“W-what do you mean?”

“
This
! The dress the make-up the wig?”

She wondered at his concern. What did it matter to him how she chose to appear at a performance?

“It it's how Eddie wants me to l-look.”

The Duke's eyes narrowed.

“Or how
you
wish to look?”

Stung at his derision, she drew herself up.

“I have answered your question, Your Grace, which is more than I am required to do, I am not your s-servant.”

She did not read his expression as he stared at her. His eyes were dark, the lids lowered over inky depths.

“Indeed you are not,” he answered at last. “Forgive me. I accept your rebuke.”

Yet he did not tear his gaze away from her face for a second it travelled down her face, from her hair to her large liquid eyes to her red bow-shaped lips.

He lingered at length on her lips, his head inclining as if wishing to meet them with his own

Beyond him, in the shadows, Henrietta espied the tiny red glow of a cigar.

“There is s-somebody here,” she muttered.

The Duke straightened and slowly turned. Too late! The red glow was extinguished.

“There
was
somebody there, I am sure just by that open window,” Henrietta insisted.

The Duke said nothing.

“I-I should g-go, Your Grace,” mumbled Henrietta uneasily. “Eddie will be wanting me to resume playing.”

“You are not dismissed!” he retorted.

“I beg your pardon?”

Henrietta was shocked.

“I have said before, I am not your s-servant. You have no right to give me such orders.”

The Duke turned on her savagely.

“Damn you, but I
do
have a right! Tonight, at least, I have the right, for tonight I am paying your wages! And I wish you to remain here until I understand what it is about you that so disturbs and incites a man! Quite against his better instincts!”

His better instincts
!

Henrietta's lips trembled.

The Duke was reminding her that Miss Reed and by default Sadie the saloon girl were not the kind of women who would normally come within his sphere of interest.

The chasm between their world and his was clearly insurmountable.

Yet it was unfair of him to address her in this way.

“T-then will you p-please now employ your better instincts and l-let me go indoors,” she asked haltingly.

For an answer, he then took Henrietta's chin in his hand and held her face up to his. Tugging a handkerchief from his pocket, he roughly applied it to her lips.

Though she twisted her head back and forth, it was only a moment before all traces of her scarlet lipstick were removed.

“Now, madam,” he breathed softly, “there are your own ruby lips exposed. And no instinct exists within me beyond the desire to claim your pretty mouth for mine ”

A sudden and unwelcome voice arrested him.

“Your Grace? Your Grace? Are you out there?”

A curse escaped his lips. He relinquished his hold on Henrietta and moved from her side as Lady Butterclere and Romany careered through the French windows.

“I have been looking for you all over,” complained Lady Butterclere, as she caught sight of Henrietta and gave a furious snort. “What!
You
are out here too?”

Henrietta still trembling from the Duke's words and touch, now dropped her gaze.

“They were dancing,” piped up Romany, gnawing viciously at one of her fingernails.

“Yes most inappropriate,” sniffed Lady Butterclere. “Romany, dear, take your fingers out of your mouth. And you, Miss Reed
desist
.”

“I-I'm sorry?” Henrietta looked up, bewildered.

“Desist, I say. You are a common conniver and my stepbrother should beware. Your conduct could very soon be the talk of ”

The Duke raised a warning hand.

“Madam, you forget where you are,” he said icily.

“I certainly do not forget
where
I am or
who
I am,” responded Lady Butterclere heatedly. “I am the stepsister of the Duke of Merebury and it is my duty to protect his good name and standing wherever I see it threatened. Miss Reed here has already compromised her reputation.”

As the Duke drew in his breath, Henrietta rounded on Lady Butterclere in outraged disbelief.

“What on earth do you mean?” she demanded.

“On
The Boston Queen
,” replied Lady Butterclere grandly, “did you or did you not enter the Second Class section of the ship on more than one occasion?”

“Yes, I did, but ”

“And was that not for the sole purpose of meeting Mr. Eddie Bragg?”

“I met him there, yes, but that was not the sole ” Lady Butterclere turned in triumph to the Duke.

“There you are stepbrother. She is Eddie Bragg's creature. Her attire tonight tells you everything. Need I elaborate more?”

Henrietta turned imploring eyes upon the Duke, but he would not look her way. He stood, his jaw flexing, his eyes black as the night sky.

Then he turned on his heels and strode to the house.

“Stepsister Miss Foss let us go in,” he snapped over his shoulder.

Henrietta was stunned and barely able to breathe.

She had made no play for the Duke.

It was he who had pressed
her
to dance, he who had led her out here onto the terrace. Whatever struggle had ensued in his breast had not been of her doing.

Oh, how she wished that she had never come here to Merebury Court. It might have been that some time in the future Henrietta Radford would meet the Duke at some London party and be introduced on equal terms.

Even had he then been married to Romany Foss, he would at least not have regarded her with such contempt. He would not have talked to her against his better instincts.

Henrietta now pressed her hands to her face with a groan. Tears welled through her fingers.

She did not hear footsteps cross the terrace until it was too late.

“We are meeting again, Miss Radford.”

She froze in utter disbelief. That voice. It was not possible. Not
here
. Surely she was hearing things?

Slowly she took her hands from her face.

When she saw who was standing sneeringly before her, she gave a strangled cry and fell in a dead faint on the stones.

Prince Vasily of Rumania stood quietly stroking his moustache before he then leaned down and scooped up the unconscious Henrietta into his arms.

“She is stirring.”

“Step back there, give her some air.”

“Water, somebody.”

Henrietta felt the rim of a glass thrust onto her lips, then water. She drank a few sips and opened her eyes.

She was lying on a couch in what seemed to be the library. Anxious faces peered down at her.

Neither the Duke nor Romany nor Lady Butterclere was there, but she recognised Eddie, Kitty and Nanny.

She glimpsed the Prince of Wales as well, watching with concern from the doorway.

Of Prince Vasily there was no sign at all.

Nanny clapped her hands in such relief as Henrietta struggled to sit upright.

“Thank Heavens,” crowed the old lady.

Eddie hurried to put a cushion at Henrietta's back.

“What happened, Harrie?” he asked.

“I was out on the terrace and I must have fainted.”

“The first we knew of it was when that gentleman carried you in,” commented Kitty.

“T-that gentleman. W-where is he now?”

Kitty glanced about and shrugged.

“Not here. He deposited you on the couch and then faded into the background. I think he needed a drink!”

Henrietta beckoned to Nanny and she leaned close.

“D-did you recognise him?”

“No, to be honest, dear, I was too concerned about you. Why, who was it?

“Prince V-Vasily,” Henrietta told her quietly.

Nanny's hand flew to her mouth.

“But he wasn't in his costume at all. He was got up like an English gentleman. In evening dress with a cape.”

“Yes. I know.”

Henrietta sank back and closed her eyes.

Her heart was trembling in her breast. What was Prince Vasily doing in England? What was he doing at the ball? Had he been invited or had he come seeking herself?

“Harrie?” It was Eddie kneeling by the couch.

“Yes, Eddie?”

“I've got to get the orchestra going again. Do you feel up to playing?”

“Could I have just a little while to myself?”

“Sure. We'll play a few more waltzes. Those don't need the piano. You join us when you're ready.”

The Prince of Wales called from the doorway.

“How is the young lady?”

“She's okay, Your Royal Highness. What she'd like is for us all to leave her so she can compose herself.”

With sympathetic murmurs all the guests who had flooded into the library now moved away.

Nanny was the last, hovering at the door.

“You're sure, you're all right?” she fussed.

Henrietta nodded and Nanny closed the library door behind her.

The silence was most welcome. There was just the faint crackle of logs in the hearth and then, from the distant ballroom, the violins struck up.

How amazed the guests must have been as Prince Vasily burst through the terrace door, Henrietta in his arms.

The Duke, Lady Butterclere and Romany must not have been present. No doubt they were ensconced in his study discussing the character of Miss Harrietta Reed!

Henrietta twisted her hands together unhappily.

How meanly the Duke had treated her and his poor fiancée.

He had meant to kiss her, she was sure of that.

She was equally sure that she would have let him.

She could not forget the magic of his touch nor the flare of passion in his dark eyes. The dance had unleashed in her a scalding desire to be in his arms.