The Compromised Duchess

Chapter 3

The ball room was brightly lit with the glow of a thousand candles in overhead crystal chandeliers, magnified by the wall- to-ceiling mirrors placed at strategic points to catch the light and reflect it magnificently. The orchestra played wonderfully, and the dance floor was filled with eager dancers, all wearing beautifully crafted costumes, and their laughter mingling with the gaiety of other guests that lined the edge of the floor.

Lady Laurel turned to her escort, her eyes gleaming in excitement. "This is the most magnificent masquerade yet, Benedict, the countess has certainly outdone herself."

Lord Benedict, duke of Trevellyan, smiled wryly. "Indeed, sister, my worst fears have been realized, for I had hoped to escape as soon as possible. This costume makes me itch." He scratched the sleeve of his Macbeth costume, a distasteful look on his face. "I order you to find yourself a suitor immediately so Mother will have no excuses to drag me to any more parties."

"How can I be expected to find myself a suitor if you keep glowering at every single man who has approached me for a dance?"

He snorted, "They are spineless, the lot of them, I would like to see you married to a man with spine, not these dandies in over starched cravats and horrifying breeches. A little frown should not put a man off his quest for your hand"

"Benedict, are you frightening away your sister's suitors again?" A high feminine voice trilled behind them. They both turned to see Lady Farnsworth, looking resplendent in an ivory, Grecian costume with a half mask. She was accompanied by Lord William, Laurel's second brother who was doing his best to appear bored and uninterested in the proceedings. "Shame on you Your Grace, there are several young ladies without a dance partner and here you hide behind your sister's skirts"

Lord Benedict scowled at the diminutive girl who stood there teasing him with impunity. She barely came up to his chest, and her wild mass of red curls framed an impish freckled face. Lady Amelia simply grinned at him and linked her arms through his, pulling him onto the dance floor.

"Come now Your Grace, I haven't had a chance to dance all evening, and I know for a fact that you Your Grace are a marvellous dancer." She said, throwing her friend a wink over her shoulder as she led Benedict to the head of the line of dancers.

Laurel laughed, the sound drawing admiring looks from the people standing close. A few men, as soon as they saw she was finally free of the Duke, hurried over to pay compliments.

Lord William slunk away, muttering something about fetching himself a drink. Laurel stood, peering through the bodies of her admirers as she tried to spot the person she had been searching for all evening. She wondered if Lord Giles had made it to the ball after all, and felt a deep pang of disappointment course through her.

"Lady Laurel, would you do me the honour of having the next dance?" Laurel turned towards the speaker, Lord Hensworth, a tall, fair, young man of about twenty, looking at her inquiring.

"I would be delighted Lord Hensworth" She inclined her head towards him, and smiled. She held out her dance card and he quickly scribbled his initials on it, bowing once again before turning to mingle with the teeming guests.

Lord Grayson strode through the doors of the ballroom, and was immediately confronted by an angry Countess, who stood arms crossed, glaring at him.

"Finally, you decide to come an hour late and you are not even wearing a costume." She cast a mocking eye at his formal dress, and white immaculately tied cravat.

He grinned at his sister and bent to place a fond kiss on her flushed cheeks. "And a good evening to you too Christy, lovely weather for a party, and you look positively stunning."

Christy tried to keep up her anger, but she melted and hugged her brother. "I'm so glad you came" She said, then drew back and studied him, "You look well, I must say, despite the rumours I keep hearing about your.....er...exploits"

His eyebrows rose, nearly disappearing into the lock of hair that fell over his forehead. "I had hoped you would have more important things to do than to listen to idle gossip?"

She laughed and drew him into the room. "Oh dear, when one has a brother who is known to be the greatest rake in all of England, one cannot avoid hearing scandalous things now and then."

Lord Grayson scanned the room, it was packed with people wearing costumes, walking, gossiping or dancing. Already, he could see that word had spread about his arrival, people were looking in his direction and whispering excitedly amongst themselves. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lady Thornton bearing down on him, her two insipid daughters in tow. He grimaced.

"Christy", He whispered urgently to his sister, who turned and looked at him, puzzled. He inclined his head towards the approaching viscountess. "If this conversation takes more than a minute, I want you to create a diversion so I can escape"

His sister chuckled and nodded.

"Your Grace" Lady Thornton called out, panting slightly from her exertions. She came to a halt in front of him and curtsied, her daughters mimicking her motions. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. We had but given up hope that you would attend."

"My Lady" Grayson reached for her hand and kissed it briefly. "I had to deal with some matters arising from my estate, so I was unavoidably late. You look wonderful Lady Thorton"

"I'm flattered Your Grace" Lady Thornton fluttered her eyelashes at him. "You remember my daughters? Miss Pamela and Miss Lucy"

They both curtsied again, Miss Pamela, the eldest of the two was wearing a horrid purple gown that did not go well with her pale complexion. She murmured something to him, eyes downcast, fanning herself furiously with her fan. The younger one Miss Lucy looked more composed and self assured, and she looked him in the eye and smiled. He had to admit she was a good-looking girl, if rather too plump for his tastes.

"I must commend you Lady Worthington" he said softly, "Your party will be talked about for ages on end."

Christina accepted the compliment graciously. "Thank you Miss Lucy. That is a lovely gown you are wearing."

Lucy giggled and glanced down at herself. Grayson noted that her bosom nearly spilled from the confines of the neckline, and no doubt she was holding in her stomach determined to achieve the hour glass figure that was currently all the rage among ladies of the aristocracy.

"Thank you, Lady Worthington" Lucy said. "Its one of Madame Devine's creations."

"Ah, yes of course" Grayson cut in, eager to be rid of these women. "Now if you'll pardon me, I'm quite parched and I need a drink. It was simply delightful to meet you, Miss Thornton, Miss Lucy. I hope to have the pleasure of a dance sometime."

Lady Thornton beamed at him, delighted that he had shown an interest in her daughters. "Of course Your Grace, I'm sure Lucy has not been asked for a waltz yet. Shall she include your name on her card?"

Damn!, Grayson swore to himself, the woman was tenacious. "That would be fine." He bowed curtly before spinning on his heel and making his way to the privacy of his brother-in-law's study.

He pushed open the heavy mahogany doors and was startled to find that he was not going to be alone as he had hoped. Lord Worthington, reclined on his plush leather chair behind his desk, smoking a cheroot. He hastily got to his feet when Grayson shut the door, a panicked look on his face. He relaxed when he saw who it was.

"Gads man, I thought you were my wife." Lord Worthington muttered, sinking back in his chair with a sigh of relief. "She would have my head if she discovered me here."

Grayson grinned and strode towards the desk, snatching up a decanter of brandy and a glass and pouring himself a drink, downing the amber liquid in one gulp and grimacing as the fiery spirit burned a path down his throat. "This is excellent brandy, Henry." He said, pouring himself another shot. "And what are you doing here when you have guests?"

"Same thing you're doing my man" Lord Worthington chuckled, "Hiding out"

Grayson scowled at his brother-in-law, his blue eyes bright and alert. "I'm not hiding, Henry. I simply needed something stronger than lemonade, and I knew you keep spirits in your study."

"If you say so" Lord Worthington shrugged and puffed on his cigar, sending a faint line of smoke curling towards the ceiling. "Have you heard the news?"

"What news?" Grayson frowned and leaned towards Henry.

"Sir Crowley was found dead this morning in his mistress' chambers with a knife to his heart, and no sign of the said mistress." Henry paused to let this information sink in his listener's mind before continuing, "The Home Office informed me this morning that some highly controversial documents regarding the treaty with Spain which as you know we have been trying to get the two sides to agree on, and which the Baron had on his person when he visited his mistress are also missing."

Grayson swore fluently and began to pace. "Henry, if those papers fall into the wrong hands, we may be looking at the start of a terrible war!."