Tasha Alexander - A Fatal Waltz

“Why are you ladies hiding in here?” Colin came towards us, a cautious amusement in his eyes.

“Your fiancée is all charm,” the countess said, her gaze lingering on him the way mine was wont to in unguarded moments. Did he compare the way we looked at him?

“Has Lord Salisbury arrived?” I asked, searching for any distraction from my sophisticated nemesis.

“He’s had to cancel his visit because of a threat of violence. A telegram arrived half an hour ago.”

“You don’t mean—” Kristiana stopped, then muttered something in German. She spoke too quietly for me to make out the words, but whatever she said caused Colin to look at her askance.

“Don’t even think it,” he said.

“It’s possible,” she said.

“Not here.”

“Colin?” I asked. “What is it?”

He hardly looked at me. “I’m sorry, my dear. This is extremely urgent. I had no idea things could take such a rapid turn for the worse. I must speak to Fortescue at once.”

I retired early that evening. Robert and Ivy had remained sequestered in their room, not coming down even for dinner, and I’d seen nothing of Colin since he disappeared in search of Lord Fortescue. I was reading in bed—The Picture of Dorian Gray—considering whether the countess might have a similar portrait hidden away in her house when I heard a knock. Colin! I leapt from the bed, not bothering to cover my filmy nightgown with a robe, and opened the door, my heart racing.

“Expecting someone else, Lady Ashton?” Lord Fortescue pushed past me into the room, closing the door behind him. “Very inappropriate. Have you no sense of decency?” He picked up the dressing gown I’d draped over a chair and threw it at me.

“I ought to pose the same question to you,” I said, holding the robe, all lace and frills, to my chest as a deep blush stained my cheeks. “How dare you burst into my room like this?”

“I shouldn’t bother to wait for your fiancé tonight. He won’t be coming. And I wouldn’t recommend going to him. He wouldn’t welcome the interruption.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s not alone in his room.” He leered at me, made a sound that could only be described as a growl, and left, closing the door behind him.

I was trembling, angry that he would come to me like this. Colin would never betray me; to do so would go against the very grain of his character. Even if the countess came to his room, he would never have opened the door to her. And surely not even she would force her way in. Would she? If she tried, he would stop her. Yes. He would stop her. I did not doubt him even for an instant. At least not for more than an instant. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I breathed very slowly, summoning a feeling of calm. And for a moment, it seemed to work.

I was about to congratulate myself for being so mature when I realized that I was nothing of the sort. For the first time since I’d arrived at Beaumont Towers, I felt uncomfortably warm. I pulled on my dressing gown and went up the stairs to Colin’s room. As I was about to knock, an unmistakable sound came from the other side of the door: the countess’s laughter.

My hand froze inches from the door, and I stepped closer, straining to hear. The laughter had stopped, and Colin was talking now, his voice too low for me to distinguish the words. It was apparent, however, that whatever he was saying, it was not in a tone that suggested he was trying to forcibly remove his visitor from the room. Surely there was an innocent explanation for her coming to him so late at night. She might have been distraught, finding it difficult to accept that he had thrown her over for me. He would be loath to turn her away in such a state, and would offer what comfort he could in an entirely appropriate fashion.

Yet his voice sounded just a bit too soothing to me, and her laughter didn’t suggest she was upset. I leaned against the wall across from his room and stared at the flame of the candle I was carrying, my eyes barely able to focus on the light. Then I heard another sound, this one even more unwelcome than the countess’s laughter: a low, throaty chuckle. Lord Fortescue was watching me.

“Trust him, do you?” he asked.

“Yes, I do,” I said, not believing the words even as I spoke them.

“I’m sorry, Lady Ashton, I couldn’t hear you. Could you speak more loudly?”

“How dare you?” I asked, keeping my voice the barest whisper. He said nothing in reply; I turned on my heel and ran back to my room.

So began my second sleepless night at Beaumont Towers, this one far less pleasant than its predecessor. To lie awake for hours, consumed by the memory of a particularly satisfying kiss, can be nearly as intoxicating as the kiss itself. But to lie awake for hours wondering if the gentleman who bestowed said kiss was now giving one to someone else was a very different thing. I vacillated between lauding Colin for his steadfast fidelity and worrying that the countess was just the sort of woman who could tempt even a man of his resolve to abandon his principles.

As the light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the curtains of my room, I finally succumbed to slumber, only to have Meg wake me a few restless hours later, telling me that our host was insisting that we all come down for breakfast. We were a bleary group at the table, but everyone save the countess appeared as requested. I could only conclude that the activity of the previous evening had been too much for her, a thought that somehow led me to realize I had no appetite. Colin, who sat across from me, applied himself to an enormous plate of food. Late nights, apparently, made him ravenous.

Robert and Ivy sat side by side, both silent. Ivy made a careful study of her food, not meeting the eyes of the other guests, none of whom bothered to speak to her beyond a rote greeting.

“The count and I are desperate for your help, Ivy,” I said, sprinkling salt on eggs I had no intention of eating. The small flowers that were painted on every inch of the walls and ceiling had begun to give me a headache. “We’re having a terrible time organizing our scene from Aristophanes.”

“Mrs. Brandon will not be able to help you with your little drama, Lady Ashton.” Lord Fortescue’s face clouded as he looked at Robert. “She and her husband are returning home this afternoon.” Robert’s expression did not change, but his shoulders snapped back and his fork clattered against his plate. “And as we’ve had to cancel our meeting with the prime minister, the rest of the gentlemen will leave to shoot in an hour.” He threw his napkin on the table and stomped out of the room, pausing when he reached the door. “I want you out of my house by noon, Brandon.”

None of us breathed for a full minute after he’d left. Sir Julian picked up his coffee cup, his large hand nearly crushing the thin china. “Does this have something to do with Home Rule? What say you to that, Hargreaves? Are the Irish threatening Lord Salisbury?”

“Unlikely,” Colin replied.

“Is that what I should report in the paper?” Sir Julian asked, a lopsided grin splitting his face.

“I don’t see that any of this merits the public’s attention.” Colin continued to devour his breakfast. “The less said, the better.” He looked pointedly at Robert and Ivy, and Sir Julian nodded.

“No good can come of creating scandal where none exists,” Lady Fortescue said, her thin voice straining to fill the room. “I don’t want any of my guests to feel that their presence at this party will lead to embarrassment.”

“Quite right, madam,” Sir Julian said. “But as there aren’t any Irishmen here—”

“We all know I’m not speaking of the Irish.” No one replied, and without another word, she returned to eating her breakfast. Soon thereafter, Robert rose from his chair and excused himself, Ivy following close behind. I all but ran after them, grabbing Ivy’s arm to stop her once I’d caught up to them in the main hall.

“Ivy—”

“This is so awful I hardly know what to do.”

“How can I help?” I asked. “Are you going to Halton House?” Robert’s estate was in southern Yorkshire, a moderate drive from Beaumont Towers.

“No, London. Robert wants to talk to Lord Salisbury.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thank you, Emily, but it’s not necessary. I’m afraid your presence would make Robert feel even more awkward than he already does. He needs privacy more than anything right now.”

“Then I’ll leave you alone.” I hugged her, and my heart broke when I felt the tension in her slim body. “Send for me if you need anything.”

“I must go to him.” She rushed after her husband. I leaned against the wall, looking up at stone vaulting that would have fit in perfectly at an Oxbridge college. Unsure of what to do, I was relieved when Colin came to me moments later.

“Brandon will manage,” he said. “Politics is a dirty business, but he knew that going in.”

“What’s going to happen?” I asked.

“He’ll lay low for a while and then either reinvent himself or decide he’s content with the life of a gentleman.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“He made a poor choice of mentor,” Colin said. “We all know the sort of man Fortescue is. He took a risk allying himself with him.”

“Did he have a choice?”

“We always have a choice, Emily. But come, let’s not dwell on unpleasantries. Am I to get no kiss before I’m forced to spend another day shooting?” He caught my hand and pulled me into a small room, full of dusty furniture. “Safe to assume we won’t be disturbed here, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t see you last night.”

“As am I.” I bit my lip. “But you were working.”