The Barefoot Baroness

Chapter Fifteen

At the ballroom, Laura stopped before entering to admire the massed banks of flowers and to enjoy that delicious prelude of anticipation before the evening began. It always reminded her of the moment before the curtain rose at the theater. One knew the general nature of the night's entertainment, but there were always a few surprises. Had she had the least premonition of what awaited her that night, she would have turned tail and run back upstairs as fast as her legs could carry her.

The baroness, who accompanied Laura and Lord Hyatt, fully expected Talman to come trotting. Her nose was out of joint to see him ask Lady Elizabeth for the opening dance. Her heart was untouched, of course, but slighted pride lent an angry sparkle to her eyes and a determined tilt to her chin. While Laura gazed around at the gathering crowd, Olivia said to Hyatt, "I shall give you the first dance, Hyatt."

He replied, "I am highly flattered, ma'am, but Laura has already agreed to stand up with me for the opening set."

"Laura? You two have become mighty close in a short time."

A pink flush crept up Laura's throat. Her first sensation was embarrassment; her second was a twinge of worry. The baroness in this mood held great potential for mischief. "Why do you not have the first set with Olivia, Hyatt?" she suggested.

He frowned at her seeming indifference. "Because I have already asked you, and you have accepted."

Looking from one to the other, it occurred to Olivia for the first time that her cousin had made a prize catch. The whole world doted on Lord Hyatt. Until that casual 'Laura,' the baroness had always assumed he was in love with herself.

"It is no matter," she said with a shrug. "I shall stand up with someone else." Her glittering eyes turned to Talman, who was leading Lady Elizabeth to the floor. There were other gentlemen aplenty in the room, but none of them was rushing in her direction, and it was vital that she have an escort to outshine Talman. Her lips thinned in vexation.

"You stand up with Olivia, Hyatt," Laura repeated. "We shall have the second set instead."

"You need not fear I have decided to set my bonnet at you," Olivia said bluntly to Hyatt.

He read the plea in Laura's eyes and reluctantly agreed. "I know very well why you have suddenly resorted to asking me to dance," he said. "You have disgusted Talman with your vulgar behavior and do not want him to see you in your disgrace, spurned by all the gentlemen. Let it be a lesson to you, milady. Even a baroness can go too far. You, I fear, have gone the length of your rope."

"If you're going to be horrid, you can stand up with Laura," she snipped.

"That is the end of my lecture. Just a word to the wise. And now we shall find a partner for Laura."

This was soon accomplished, and the two couples went to the floor to join a set. The baroness felt the full odium of her position. The guests noticed that Talman had deserted her. Ladies stared at her, wearing smug smiles or whispering behind raised fans. To show her indifference, she smiled and flirted with Hyatt, hoping the old gossips would think she had refused Lord Talman. What did she care for any of them? Talman was a dead bore. She preferred John Yarrow to any man in the room, and as soon as she returned to London, she would tell him so.

Re-established on her pedestal by Hyatt, Olivia soon found a partner for the next set. Talman came forward at its end and asked her for the third. Olivia agreed, but she agreed very coolly to show him how little she cared. Talman sensed that the baroness was angry, and to conciliate her advisers he stood up next with Laura.

The rout swelled to a fashionable squeeze as guests from the neighborhood arrived. Most of the new arrivals were strangers to Laura. It was not until the middle of the set that she saw a face she recognized very well indeed. Lady Devereau had landed in. How on earth had she finagled an invitation? She was the very sort Lord Talman would despise.

Her toilette, while attractive, bordered on the sensational. She was outfitted in violet lace, with two short ostrich feathers tucked into her raven hair. Diamonds glittered everywhere-in her ears, at her neck, and on her arms. A long expanse of white throat extended too low for modesty. The enticing conformation of her breasts had every eye in the room riveted.

Talman spotted her and gave a tsk of annoyance.

"Just look who Cousin Jerome has brought to call. Papa will be furious."

"Is the gentleman with Lady Devereau your cousin?" Laura asked. She had heard the name of Lady Devereau's new flirt in London. So that was how she got here!

"We all have a few dirty dishes in the family" was his curt way of acknowledging it. "Lord Jerome is ours. His father is Lord Syndel. Fortunately, Jerome is only a younger son. He cannot mortgage the Grange to buy diamonds for his lightskirts. I wager the hussy talked Jerome into visiting the Grange for the weekend on purpose to come to this rout and annoy Hyatt. She has taken Hyatt in aversion since he refused to take her under his protection. He made the mistake of painting her earlier on. She is very lovely, of course," he added. "I daresay there was something between them. God, I hope she doesn't plan to make a scene."

Laura made note of Talman's information. She knew that Hyatt was not responsible for the lady's presence, yet in a way he was. If there had not been "something between them" she would not have come. Like Talman, she hoped the lady would not make a scene. She garnered up the baroness and fled the room.

Hyatt also noted Lady Devereau's arrival. His heart clenched in anger when she smiled across the room at him. He knew that smile! It was the same glittering smile she had worn when she barged into an ex-lover's box at the theater and returned the man's nightshirt-to his wife. It was the smile she had worn when she had another married lover's crest painted on the carriage he had give her and drove to call on his wife. And it was the smile she had worn when he refused to paint her again, as Venus rising from the waves. He had kept the first portrait; she wanted another for herself. "You will live to regret it, Hyatt," she had warned then.

The woman was incorrigible. Across the room, he caught her eye and glared. Then he turned his back on her and strode out of the room. If she meant to humiliate him, she would at least not do it in front of the entire assembly. This was just the sort of contretemps the duke hated. Mind you, the duchess would be vastly amused.

He decided to take a glass of punch to the library, feeling in his bones that Lady Devereau would not be far behind. Nor was she. She shot out after him like an arrow from the bow. Hyatt went straight to the punch bowl in the refreshment parlor. To his chagrin, Laura was there, with the baroness and their escorts. Hyatt just smiled and snatched a glass of punch, planning to flee at once to the library.

He wondered why Laura was staring in such a wild-eyed way. Then a whiff of violet perfume assailed him, and he knew. Marie Devereau always drenched herself in the sickening scent. He turned to confront her and saw a drift of violet lace swing past him, toward Laura. He put down his glass and followed her. His heart was in his mouth.

Lady Devereau ignored everyone in the room except the baroness. "You must be Baroness Pilmore," she smiled sweetly. "I have heard so much about you. I am Lady Devereau." She shook Olivia's hand.

Olivia recognized the beautiful face before her but was only vaguely aware of the lady's awful reputation. She accepted the offered hand. "I am happy to meet you, Lady Devereau. This is my cousin, Miss Harwood," she said. The ladies exchanged a stiff curtsy. "I have admired your portrait at Somerset House," the baroness said politely.

"And your portrait, I hear, will soon be joining it. You will quite put me in the shade.”

Olivia was accustomed to this sort of toad-eating. "Not at all. You are very pretty for an older lady," she replied, with no intention of giving offense.

Lady Devereau laughed gaily. "Out of the mouths of babes," she said. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the flicker of a black arm and turned to cast a defiant eye on Lord Hyatt. "As an older lady, I shall give you a word of advice, Baroness. You must be wary of fortune hunters. I have heard the on-dit that that scoundrel, Yarrow, nearly succeeded in raping you this afternoon." She lifted her infamous eyes to Laura and added, "You are the baroness's chaperone, I believe? You ought to keep a closer eye on her, instead of flirting with Hyatt."

Laura felt as if she were in a nightmare. This conversation could not really be taking place. An awful silence had fallen on the room, as necks craned and ears stretched to hear such farcouche words as "rape" strike the air.

"You are quite mistaken," she said weakly. "Yarrow did not try to… he only met her by chance. And I am not the baroness's chaperone, but her cousin," she added more firmly.

"It was my understanding that you are battening yourself on the baroness, in payment for looking after her. Is that not the case?"

Hyatt had heard enough. He put his arm on Lady Devereau's wrist to try to lead her away. She shook him off as if he were a gnat. He read the determination in her stare and looked helplessly at Laura, for he had deduced that Marie was taking her revenge on him through Miss Harwood. Marie had not been fooled that the baroness was his choice.

"One can understand why you were so diverted," Lady Devereau continued. "Hyatt is an amusing rattle, to be sure, but you mistake your quarry if you think to bring this sly dog to the sticking point. Many Incomparables have caught cold at that." Her scathing glance told Laura that she was no Incomparable.

"You would know about that, Lady Devereau," Laura replied, stunned at her own daring.

"A provincial miss might not recognize it, but Hyatt is a gazetted flirt, my dear. It is here today, gone tomorrow-with only a painting and a ruined reputation for a memory."

Laura was aware of the staring eyes and the listening ears. Her quaking insides froze to ice. How dare this creature barge in and ruin the party! She adopted her ironical smile and said, "But it is a beautiful painting, Lady Devereau. It makes you look so lovely I scarcely recognized you in the flesh. And I am sure Lord Hyatt's reputation will recover, for he now behaves with perfect propriety."

A gasp from the audience stabbed the air. Lady Devereau knew she had been bested-and by this country bumpkin who looked as if butter would not melt in her mouth. "His might, but will yours?" she retorted, and swept from the room.

Lord Jerome had come looking for her. She grasped his arm and said in a carrying voice, "Take me back to the ballroom, Jerry. I am bored to tears. I feel like waltzing. Tell the dear duke I must have a waltz."

In a refreshment parlor, a loud buzz rose up to the rafters as the guests realized it was over and they could now begin discussing it. "Outrageous," "hussy," and "the outside of enough" were some of the more polite comments.

The baroness was enjoying herself hugely. "Bravo, Laura!" She laughed. "I never knew you could be so rude."

"Why not? I am your cousin, after all," Laura said, and whisked Olivia off to the library to escape the prying eyes.

Hyatt followed them, wondering what words he could possibly say to mitigate Marie's insults. He snatched a tray from a passing waiter and carried a bottle of wine and glasses to the library. A smile lurked on his lips. He was pleased with Laura's attack. He knew she had breeding but was surprised that she possessed such sangfroid under fire.

Now that her moment had passed, however, Laura felt quite faint and collapsed on the nearest sofa. "You were splendid!" Hyatt smiled, passing the wine. "This calls for a toast."

"To Lady Devereau!" Olivia said, lifting her glass.

"No, to Miss Harwood," he parried, and quaffed the wine, for he felt the need of it himself. "I am most dreadfully sorry, Laura. I would not have brought this down on your head for the world. What must you think of me?"

"It is not your fault, though I think you might have stood up for me and told her I was not flirting with you."

"But you were! In fact, you are," Olivia pointed out.

"I am not!"

"You told me it was vulgar to roll my eyes at my beaux. You have been rolling your eyes at Hyatt all day."

"This is all your fault," Laura said, realizing instinctively that offense was her only defense. "You see now what your clandestine meeting with Yarrow has accomplished. Talman is disgusted with you. Lady Devereau is no doubt making your name a byword this very instant."

"We were only kissing," Olivia pouted.

"I cannot imagine what Talman will say when he hears of this altercation."

"I can," Olivia laughed. "He will pull his stiff face and say that Lady Devereau is 'not the thing.' I must own, I liked her.”

Talman soon came pouncing in. "I have just heard! Baroness, Miss Harwood, you must allow me to apologize. How Jerome ever allowed that creature to talk him into bringing her here-not the thing, that woman."

Olivia uttered a faint giggle to hear her prediction come true.

"It is my fault, and I am very sorry," Hyatt said. "I have just been apologizing to the ladies."

"I have no doubt you were her target, but it was unladylike of her to take out her spleen on my guests."

"Where is she now? What is she doing?" Hyatt asked.

"She asked for a waltz. I told the musicians not to play any. She took a miff and has claimed a sick headache. Instead of asking Jerome to take her away, she insisted she was too upset to travel and went up to bed. I shall have her breakfast sent to her room tomorrow to keep her away from the invited guests. I shall have Jerome remove her as soon as she has eaten. Really, she is impossible. I had the butler put her in the east wing, where she shan't bother anyone. In the yellow room," he added, and smiled at Hyatt.

"What is the peculiarity of the yellow room? Does it have good, stout walls?" the baroness asked.

"It locks from the outside. I asked the butler to lock the door and hide the key over the door frame. He is to let her out tomorrow morning."

"That's horrid!" Olivia said. "What if there is a fire during the night?"

"Then I might let her out," Talman said. He shook his head ruefully. "I ought to get back to the ball. I expect you folks will want a moment to recuperate, but don't stay away too long. It will only fuel gossip if you all disappear."

"I'll go with you," Olivia said, jumping up.

Left alone, Laura and Hyatt exchanged a conscious look. "Did you jilt Lady Devereau?" Laura asked. "Is that why she is so angry with you?"

"It was not so much a jilting as a refusal to respond to her advances. I only wanted to paint the lady. I paid her to sit for me. When I pay a model, I usually keep the painting. Marie-Lady Devereau-decided she wanted to keep the painting. I refused.”

"Why did you want to keep it?"

Hyatt looked confused. "I don't know, really. I do like to keep a representative sample of my own work.

Marie's picture is one of my best. But it was her insistence that really got my back up. I daresay she'll end up with it."

"I would give it to her, if I were you. The woman has no breeding-causing a row at a polite party."

"There is nothing like breeding, when all is said and done. You have noticed I do not fly into a pelter when you refuse to humor me with a flirtation."

"If you expect me to roll my eyes at you, Lord Hyatt, forget it. I must have been behaving very badly if both Lady Devereau and Olivia think I am your flirt."

"No one will look to either of those ladies for a sensible reading of your behavior. One must always consider the source of an insult. If you consider flirting with me an insult, that is to say. Personally, I do not consider this a flirtation."

She looked a question at him. "Indeed! What do you call it when you trail at a lady's apron strings for an entire weekend? You must forgive Olivia if she has misunderstood the matter. I wonder how Lady Devereau knew."

Hyatt just sat, quietly watching. The evening's excitement had brought an animation to Laura that was lacking before. She had responded with unexpected fire to Lady Devereau's malicious attack. Yes, there was more to Miss Harwood than he had suspected. And even before this discovery he had been half in love with her. Her quiet charm and breeding were attractive. To discover she had a sharp tongue when she was in a temper was delightful.

"There are other reasons than flirtation for dogging a lady," he said thoughtfully.

Her color heightened as she looked at him uncertainly. He could not be implying what she thought. Oh no, she surely misunderstood. But as his head inclined to hers, she knew she had not. His arms came out and pulled her against his chest. She looked at him with dark, frightened eyes; then her eyelids fluttered closed as his lips found hers.

The gentleness of his kiss surprised her. She had thought Hyatt would be a rougher lover, but his arms cradled her gently, and his lips were more pleading than predatory. Calmed by his tender approach, she let her arms encircle him and responded to his warm lips.

Later, she was quite at a loss to understand how this polite embrace had escalated to scalding passion. There had been no sense of an attack, but a slowly rising fever that seduced her into an unladylike fervor. His arms tightened very gradually. At no particular moment was she aware of it, but she noticed when the pressure against her lungs became painful. She could not fail to notice when a low growl emanated from his throat, to blend with her own anguished moan.

That was when she tried to draw away. A secret thrill surged through her when he would not let her go but held her to him by main force. By then, his lips were ruthlessly plundering hers. Really, she could not blame him entirely. It just seemed to happen. Human nature swelled over them both in a wave of desire that left her weak.

When at last she succeeded in putting an inch between them, Hyatt's warm fingers stroked her throat. They brushed down the column of her neck to cling with shuddering intimacy to her bare shoulders. His hot lips were at her ear, uttering words she had never thought to hear. "You darling, delightful hussy, hiding your fire behind that prim smile. I am mad for you. I want to kiss every inch of your-"

"Eeek!" she squealed, and jumped up, as Olivia came bouncing in at the doorway.

"Laura! What are you doing!" the baroness demanded in censorious tones. She hurried forward, her eyes wide with reproach and curiosity. "Upon my word, this is pretty rich! You all cutting up at me, when John was doing no worse than this. Not as bad, in fact. At least I was fully dressed, and standing up. Hyatt was nearly on top of you."

"I will have you know I am fully dressed," Laura replied, pulling at the bodice of her gown, which had slipped awry during the tussle.

"I hope you have got an offer from him, or there is absolutely no excuse for this. And I shall tell your mama," she added, with childish spite.

Hyatt straightened his tie and glared at the wretched girl. "You may be very sure my intentions are honorable, miss," he said. "Which is more than can be said for Mr. Yarrow's."

"That's all you know about it. So are you engaged, Laura?" she asked eagerly. This startling news was enough to make her forget her accusations.

"Certainly not!" She looked at Hyatt, who smiled softly, as his glowing eyes held hers.

"It is customary for a lady to consider an offer before accepting-or declining," he explained to Olivia.

"How long should she wait?" Olivia asked.

In her unsettled state, Laura paid no heed to that ominous question. "What was it you came to tell us?" she asked, trying for an air of dignity.

"Did you not hear the gong? Everyone is going into dinner."

Laura had some vague recollection of hearing a gong. It had blended with the bells and other unreal sounds that eddied around her during that embrace.

Dinner made a diversion. As they left the room, Laura got Olivia a step ahead of Hyatt and said in a commanding whisper, "Don't mention any of this to anyone."

"Surely you will accept him, cousin."

"I need a little time to think about it.”

Olivia gave a conspiratorial smile. "Very well, but I don't think you should leave him hanging too long. Lady Devereau is remaining overnight, you must know. If you refuse, why, there is no saying that he won't take refuge with his former lover.”

"Really, Olivia. You should not say such things.”

"You shouldn't do such things," Olivia smiled boldly.

Laura feared she had lost the last vestige of control over her troublesome cousin. And to make it worse, Hyatt's smile told her he was thoroughly enjoying her discomfort. She wanted to go upstairs alone, but with the shadow of Lady Devereau hanging over them, she knew she must continue to act nonchalant for several hours yet. The only slight alleviation to her condition was that Lady Devereau had retired for the night.