Calypso Magic

Chapter 2

Everyone must row with the oars he has.

ENGLISH PROVERB

Diana stared at her overflowing bosom in the long mirror. She grinned, then began to chuckle, just to see if her bosom would stay where it was supposed to. Amazingly, to her, it did. At least for the moment, she amended to herself. No wild and impetuous gesticulations for her this night. She tried hunching her shoulders just a bit, but that looked altogether ridiculous. Ah, well, there was nothing to be done about it; it was what her body was, and that was that.

Grumber came into her bedchamber at that moment, her perpetual look of indifference cracking just a bit. "Very nice, miss."

"Thank you, Grumber. What have you there?"

"Rice powder, that's all. Lady Cranston wants you to be the same color."

Diana was on the point of refusing, with a show of righteous outrage, then noticed that her tanned face did look a bit odd with the expanse of white shoulders and bosom.

Sallow, was she! "All right, Grumber. Cover my face with it."

Once she was powdered up, Diana thanked Grumber again and made her way downstairs. Lucia was waiting for her in the drawing room, gowned in royal purple.

"Lovely, Diana, just lovely. Good heavens!" Lucia moved closer. "What in the world. . . You look dead!" Diana touched her fingertips to her cheek very lightly.

Her fingertips came away as white as snow, at least she assumed they were, for she'd never before seen snow.

Lucia dusted off her face with a handkerchief, telling her to close her eyes in the cloud of white powder.

"There, much better. I like your hair swept up with the thick curls over your shoulders. Very nice. Those close crops all the young ladies are affecting remind me of poodles who have been trimmed too closely." She was on the point of saying that the thick streaked blond hair reminded her of her own when she was young, but she didn't want Diana to become conceited. "Now, my dear, I have a little something for you." Lucia pulled out a beautiful strand of pearls from a black velvet case. She fastened them around Diana's neck, then handed her a pair of pearl earrings.

Diana looked helplessly at them. "They're lovely, Aunt, but my ears aren't pierced."

Lucia frowned a moment, then said briskly, "We'll see to it tomorrow. The necklace looks quite well on you. Now, where is Lyonel?"

"The necklace is beautiful, Aunt. Thank you. I don't know about the piercing, though."

"Nonsense. Just a bit of pain, then it's over. Don't be a coward. I won't let Grumber do it, she's a bit heavy with a needle when she's mending. No, I'll see to it myself."

Diana wasn't certain the experience would be much improved, but said nothingShe walked to the mirror over the fireplace and studied the necklace. She looked very smart, yes, indeed. Then her eyes fell to her bosom, and she shuddered in embarrassment.

For the past four years she'd most rigorously kept her breasts well-covered, for she didn't care for the way men looked at her. She unconsciously tried to pull up the blue silk.

"Don't fiddle, Diana! You will shortly see that you are well in fashion, and, I might add, even on the modest side."

"But I'll pop out, Aunt, I just know it. I cannot believe it is modest— why, the gown couldn't be cut any lower." "Nonsense. Ah, Lyonel, here at last."

Lyonel, who had heard this last interchange, took a good look at Diana's plentiful bosom. "You won't pop out, Miss Savarol. And if you do, I shall be certain to cover you immediately."

"Oh? With what?"

"With whatever I have available to me at the moment." He raised his hands, splaying his fingers.

"Lyonel!"

"Sorry, Lucia. Both you ladies are looking prime. My God—what the devil do you have on your face?"

"Rice powder," Diana said. "To make me all the same color."

"I wiped a goodly amount off, Lyonel. Do you still think it is too much?"

"Who cares what he thinks?" Diana stopped short, lowering her eyes.

"Well done," said Lyon. "I know, of course, that it is an affected maidenly pose, but nonetheless, it should pass with strangers as the real article."

"It's not that," she said, glaring at him. "I can't— well, I can't dance!"

Lyonel groaned. "I thought you said you weren't from a backwater barracks?"

"Those were your ill-natured words! I was simply never interested in such things, and besides," she added, striving for a bit of honesty, "there was no one about to teach me."

"Now, now," said Lucia. "What is the time, Lyonel?"

"Just past eight o'clock."

"We have time, then. Didier!"

"Yes, my lady," said Didier but an instant later. "To the music room. Lord Saint Leven will instruct Miss Savarol on the finer points of the waltz."

"Why the waltz, Lucia? She must have permission to dance it from a patroness."

"Sally will give her permission, you will see," said Lucia. "Besides, the country dances and the cotillion are too complicated for her to learn in a half an hour. Thank goodness that the waltz has finally been accepted."

When they walked into the small music room, Didier was already seated at the pianoforte, playing scales, looking every bit as distinguished as the leonine Beethoven.

Lucia seated herself in a comfortable wing chair and waved her hand at the two of them. "Well, Miss Savarol, shall we?" Lyonel said, giving her a slight bow.

"Shall we what? I don't know what to do."

"First of all, you have to come closer and pretend to like it when I hold you. Now, you hear that Didier has broken into song with a strong three beats. So you will count, one, two, three, one two, three, emphasis on the first beat, and follow my lead."

Lyonel kept a respectable full foot between them. She was taller than he'd first thought, and it occurred to him that he didn't at all care for tall, bosomy women. Charlotte had been petite, coming only to his shoulder, her figure slight, her eyes a deep chocolate brown, not a gray green. Funny color, as if nature couldn't make up its mind. He pulled himself up short. In all honesty, he didn't like any sort of woman at the present. He counted aloud as he gently led her about. She was a natural dancer, he thought some moments later, grudgingly.

"That's it, don't falter, and don't step on my foot. Ouch!"

"Sorry," Diana said, her eyes on her own feet.

He whirled her about at that instant, and she fell against him. He felt a tingling of sheer lust and quickly eased her away from him. As for Diana, she was too embarrassed at her clumsiness to notice anything at all.

"Pay attention," he said, his voice sharp. That damned bosom of hers would drive the gentlemen mad.

Her eyes turned more gray and he realized he'd hurt her feelings. "You're doing fine. Just keep counting, but under your breath. Once you have permission to waltz, I'll claim the first two, then you're on your own."

"So gracious, my lord!"

"Yes, I agree."

Didier played three more waltzes, and toward the end of the third one, Diana had managed to look up at Lyonel at least part of the time.

"Once you get used to it, you will be able to converse with your partner. It is expected, you know."

"It feels odd to be close to a man," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Close? You're a good foot away from me."

"Considering you're a lion, a foot doesn't seem to be all that much."

He grinned over her head. "Shall I take that as a compliment?"

"It was just an observation. I do think this entire exercise is a bit improper. Why, even my father has never held me like this!"

"Men are just men, Miss Savarol. You will get used to it quickly. Just let your partner lead you—stop shoving at me! and accept the fact that men are stronger, larger, and in all likelihood much more intelligent."

Diana came down hard on his foot. He yelped, and she gave him a nasty grin. "I suppose you could say now, with all honesty, that men are also slower, less coordinated, and the biggest babies with just the slightest amount of hurt."

"At least men keep their endowments well under wraps, as it were, and not hanging out and forced upward with the intent to draw attention to themselves. And don't step on my foot again or I will seek immediate retribution."

"I did not think that gentlemen were supposed to speak so outrageously."

"Excellent. You have spoken at some length now and haven't missed a beat. I am a marvelous teacher, am I not?"

"You, my lord, are an unprincipled rat."

"Is there any other kind? No? That certainly shuts me up, doesn't it? Ah, Didier is finished with his music. You will do, Miss Savarol." He released her, gave her a mocking bow, and turned to Lucia. "Well?"

"Well, indeed," said Lucia. "You make a marvelous couple, my dears."

Both members of the couple shot her a killing look, to which she showed no response. Lucia rose and shook out her bright purple silk skirts. "Shall we go?"

"By all means. Doesn't the chit have something to cover her up?"

"Certainly, a shawl matching the gown. Where is it, Diana?"

"I don't know."

Lucia sighed. "Didier, please have Grumber fetch the shawl."

"Very well, my lady."

"You are an excellent musician, Didier," Lyonel said. "Thank you, my lord. One strives, to be sure." He left the room.

"Your perfume," said Lyonel, "is too strong. You come very close to smelling like an opera girl."

"Oh, and what does an opera girl smell like? What is an opera girl?"

"Lyonel, my boy, would you please keep your tongue behind your teeth?"

Lyon made a great attempt at an indifferent shrug. "Fine with me, Lucia, but have you sniffed her? She is rather overwhelming."

"Come here, Diana."

"She smells as if she's bathed in it."

Diana dutifully allowed herself to be sniffed at. "It is a bit too much," Lucia said at last. "But the evening air, and the time it will take us to reach the Bellermains', will reduce the scent."

"Is there anything else you would care to criticize, my lord?"

His eyes went again to her bosom, and he grinned. "I only remarked upon the obvious problems with your face and your perfume, Miss Savarol. The rest of you that is on display is most pleasing to the eye. The masculine eye, that is."

"Lyonel!"

"Forgive me, Lucia. Ah, your wrap, Miss Savarol. Shall we go, ladies?"

Lucia's grand old brougham was, if nothing else, blessed with a commodious interior. Still, Diana found that Lord Saint Leven must stretch his legs out, and she was forced to move to the side. She was quiet, listening to him speak with Aunt Lucia, calmly, amusingly, and with not a single drawing remark. Why did he dislike her so much? Indeed, he had taken her into obvious aversion the moment he had walked into the drawing room that afternoon. He was rude. Perhaps English noblemen were all of a kind. He was well-looking this evening, she was forced to admit. He wore black evening clothes and his shirt was so white it reminded her of the rice powder. He laughed at something Lucia said and she saw the flash of his even white teeth. He used his hands a lot when he talked. She saw the flash of his emerald signet ring.

"Diana."

"What? I'm sorry, Aunt. I was thinking." "Something profound, Miss Savarol?"

"No, actually, my thoughts and observations were quite boring."

"I said, my dear, that Lyonel has agreed to call you Diana. And you, my love, will call him Lyonel."

"It's a rather silly name."

"I shouldn't say that, Diana. Your namesake was, after all, the goddess of hunting, and, I might add, the goddess of virginity."

"That is not what I meant!"

"Can you claim prowess or, er, ownership, to either quality?"

"Lyonel!"

"Sorry, Lucia."

"I certainly shouldn't call you the king of the jungle."

"That would depend on the jungle, would it not? Now, for example, if you were to examine the social jungle, you might discover that I make my way well enough—"

"It seems that Charlotte brought you down."

"Diana!" Lucia exclaimed.

There was no flash of white teeth this time. She heard him suck in his breath. "May I thank you, Lucia, for this?"

"No, well, perhaps, my boy. Diana, your memory for names is most unfortunate. You will contrive to forget that one in particular."

"But who is she? Was she the debacle of two months ago? Did she turn you down?"

"That, you nosy chit, is none of your damned business. Thank God, we've arrived."

Because they were somewhat late, the line of carriages was not an excessive problem, and they were climbing the steps to the receiving line within ten minutes.

Lucia felt Diana's hand clutch at her sleeve. "It will be all right, my dear. Just be yourself. You are lovely and—"

"Be yourself, but keep your mouth shut."

Lady Bellermain, as awesome as the flagship in Macklin's fleet, greeted both Lucia and Lyonel with pleasure. "Such a joy to see you again, my lord. And who is this?"

"My grand-niece, Miss Diana Savarol, Belinda. Make your curtsy, my dear."

"Lovely. She is staying with you for the Season, Lucia?"

"Yes, indeed."

Lyonel said as they strolled away, "I suppose that Lord Bellermain is already in the card room?"

"Probably, the old fool," said Lucia with a snort. "It's fortunate that he's lucky, else he would have lost his fortune by the age of twenty."

They entered the ballroom and Diana felt a moment of sheer terror. She had never seen so many superb-looking people in all her life. All of them strangers. So much laughter and gaiety, and a fountain of champagne, she saw. A real fountain! And the jewels. And the very low-cut gowns on the ladies.

"Some of them even dampen their petticoats," said Lyonel in her ear. "Again, an example of ladies flaunting their endowments for the masculine eyes. See that lady? That is Lady Caroline Lamb. She looks positively naked, does she not?"

"Lyonel!"

"Forgive me, Lucia. Would you ladies care for some champagne?"

"Yes, take yourself off. I must find Sally."

Lady Jersey was located and professed herself delighted to meet Miss Savarol. Of course the young lady should dance the waltz. Vouchers to Almack's? Why, certainly. She would again be most delighted to assist her dear friend.

Lucia breathed a sigh of relief when they left the semiroyal presence. "Talk about perfume!"

"She reeked," said Diana.

"Ladies, your champagne."

Diana had drunk champagne once before. She accepted the glass, her fingers brushing Lyonel's. She gave a start and looked up at him. Her look of surprised awareness was not lost to Lyonel, and he frowned. He wanted nothing to do with any lady, much less this silly chit from the West Indies. He said, "Sip it, Miss—Diana."

"I know how to drink!"

"Not to excess, I trust. Ah, a waltz. Come, Diana. The sooner we begin, the sooner we can end. Then the king of this jungle will turn the wolves loose on your virtue."

"Lyonel!"

"Forgive me, Lucia. Diana?"

A fair-haired gentleman standing near a potted palm said to his friend, "Who is that with Lyonel? A lovely girl. He is so quickly over his bout of Charlotte Haversham?"

His friend, Lady Markham, laughed lightly. "I should trust so, particularly since she is now Lady Danvers."

"For my own part, I think Lyonel very lucky. This young lady looks like an innocent little flower, ready to—"

"Really, Edgar! You promised you would cease your poetry at eight o'clock. It is well past that."

"She is lovely,"Edgar persistedHe saw Charlotte Moressey, Lady Danvers, from the corner of his eye, and raised his voice, "I hear tell that Lyonel is much taken with the girl. No wonder, I say. Why, just look at that beautiful hair and face, not to mention, well, her other remarkable assets."

Corinne, Lady Markham, wasn't at all stupid. Nor was she a friend to Charlotte. "I agree. Perhaps they will make a match of it."

Charlotte turned to her new husband and said in an overly bright voice, "Come, Dancy, let us waltz."

Corinne was a malicious b***h, Charlotte thought as she followed Dancy's rather erratic movements on the dance floor. Who was that wretched girl? She saw Lyonel smiling down at her, and winced. She knew he would have to marry, if nothing else, for an heir to the earldom. But so soon? If only, she thought for the hundredth time, he hadn't come to Haversham House that ill-fated day. If only she hadn't been in the tack room at that particular time, with Dancy. If only they'd been discussing Paulson's treatment for a swollen hock, if only...

Charlotte shook her head. She was honest enough to admit that she'd done herself in. She'd been greedy. She'd wanted both Lyonel, for a husband, and Dancy, for a lover. She'd heard that Lyonel had gone north and was in a way pleased that she had bowled him over so thoroughly. But here he was, only two months later, dancing with a dazzling girl and enjoying himself as if she, Charlotte, had never existed.

"You are a natural dancer," Lyonel said before he could censor the compliment.

She looked taken aback. "As you said, many times, my lord, you are an excellent teacher."

"You are supposed to say, Thank you, Lyonel."

"And assume my maidenly pose, complete with downcast eyes and perhaps a little blush?"

"You do learn quickly. Come along now, let me introduce you to some appropriate gentlemen. You will dance only with those of whom I approve. And no more than two dances with any gentleman, else it could cause unwanted gossip. There will not be a scoundrel, fortune-hunter, or philanderer among them"

"I am not stupid!"

"Perhaps not, but you are vastly ignorant. Do as I tell you or you will likely make a complete fool of yourself."

"I do not like you."

"If a gentleman looks overly long at your bosom, you will not dance with him again."

"Then I am not to waltz with you a second time?"

He grinned. "Since I am a relative– your only male relative in London—you may assume that my interest in your... Well, you may assume that my regard is in the avuncular vein."

Lyonel turned her over to Lord Donnovan, a young man with a delightful smile, who looked most worshipful at the succulent new vision. Diana felt her confidence soar and her lacerated sensibilities mend a bit.

"She will do just fine, Lucia, you will see," said Lyon to his aunt, "Donnovan is certain to feed her enough compliments to give her indigestion. 3And you can forgetting any thought of matchmaking between the two of us."

"The way you've been baiting her, I wonder that she still speaks to you."

"Diana Savarol, whatever else she may be, is not a submissive simpletonShe enjoys my baiting, I'll wagerShe certainly has dished me up in my own sauce a couple of times."

"Only a couple?"

"Really, Lucia, by the time she's truly up to snuff, I'll be a doddering old man." He stopped cold, his eyes fastened on Charlotte, who was laughing somewhat immoderately at something Dancy had said. She looked achingly beautiful, just as beautiful as the first time he'd ever seen her at Newmarket, but his heart did nothing more this time than tighten, just a bit. Odd, how he'd only kissed her chastely even after they'd become betrothed. Then to see her on her back, her skirts tossed up, her head arched back, thighs spread and wrapped about... He drew a deep breath. Women, he thought. The whole bloody lot of them should be shipped off to Constantinople. Let them be lascivious in a harem.

"She was never worthy of you, my boy," Lucia said softly. "You closed your eyes to the truth, you know. She had snared you well and good, I'll say that for her. But it's over, and time for you to rejoin the world again. And, Lyonel, Diana isn't a bit like CharlotteShe's guileless, you know. Perhaps too much so."

He cursed under his breath. "There's Brandy and Ian. I think I will go speak to them."

Lucía sighed, watching Lyonel stride toward the Duke and Duchess of PortmaineShe grinned, wagering to her- self that Lyonel would never in a million years draw attention to the duchess's bountiful bosom.

Lyonel, because he had no choice in the matter, es- corted both Lucia and Diana to supper. He was not particularly surprised when two of his bachelor friends asked to join their table. He saw that Diana was much enjoying herself, but he quickly ceased listening or contributing to the conversationHe wanted to leave; he wanted to return to Yorkshire. He had spent some of his time with Frances and Hawk, the Earl and Countess of Rothermere, until their obvious adoration for each other made him so uncom- fortable and unhappy that he couldn't bear it any longer. Frances was nearing her term-this her second child-and the thought of the child she would bear made him ache more than he could have believed possible for what he had lost, for what, indeed, he would never have had in the first place. It had been difficult enough when little Charles, Viscount Lindsey, had discovered his Uncle Lyon and become his adoring fan. For a fleeting moment, he saw Hawk's large brown hand gently caressing Frances' rounded stomach. He blinked away the image.

Lyonel had been ready to marry, to raise a family, to protect them and love them until he left this earthAnd then he had met Charlotte, so innocent, so shy and charm- ing. God, what a fool he'd been! He sat back in his chair, staring morosely into his glass of claret. He looked up at the sound of Diana's bright laughter, and his eyes fell to her breasts. He sucked in his breath. He would set up a mistress as soon as possible. He had been too long without s*x, that was all.

Diana danced her second waltz with Lyonel at midnight. She was mildly intoxicated from the champagne, and she saw him through a very pleasant haze. "Why are you being so quiet?"

"I haven't a thing to say. Unlike the weaker s*x, I don't chatter inanities and bore the devil out of my partner."

"I am not weak. I wager I could show a good account of myself with you, were we to come to blows."

"No doubt an excellent talent for a lady to possess. I saw you dancing with that French i***t, DuPres. Stay away from him, Diana. He'll have you on your back and your petticoats up about your chin in five minutes."'

"And you, I suppose, are a saint?"

"No, I simply have no interest in silly, overendowed little girls. Now be quiet, you lost track of the beat."

"I am sorry she hurt you so badly, Lyonel."

"Shut up, Diana."

She sighed, knowing that if she weren't vaguely tipsy, she would rip up at him at his galling rudeness. And all she was trying to do was to be sympathetic. When the dance ended, she said, "I must go to the ladies' withdrawing room."

"Too much champagne, huh?"

"Don't be crude."

It was odd, she thought as she made her way upstairs, weaving just a bit, but she would have dropped her jaw in utter horror had any of the other gentlemen she'd con- versed with or danced with spoken to her as Lyonel did.