Captive Innocence (21 page)

“Oh, Baron, I'm so sorry, but the card has been filled.” Quickly, she raised it to the deep cleft in her bosom. Two bright spots of color dotted her cheeks as she kept her hand over the tiny dance card with its sky blue tassel falling into the cleft.

“Why, I do believe you're flirting with me,” the Baron said unctuously. “You realize, of course, that you must dance with me, otherwise it will look peculiar. If you care to look around, you'll notice that people are staring at us. Smile, my dear. Smile like you mean it.”

Royall recognized the iron order. Her first thought was to defy him and run from the room. Instead, she let a slow, wicked smile play around her mouth. “Why, Baron, is it your intention then to have me cross off another name on my card?” Playfully, she flicked the card near his face. One heavily lashed eye drooped in a wicked wink. Quickly, she whirled around ... straight into Sebastian's arms.

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten that this was your dance, Sebastian!” Quickly, she lowered her voice. “Smile, damn you, and show lots of teeth. I told the Baron ... never mind what I told the Baron. Dance with me and use both feet. Don't say anything,” she managed through clenched teeth as Sebastian whirled her onto the dance floor.

“Why didn't you just attack me? You would have gotten the same notice,” Sebastian said mockingly.

“Oh, my, that is funny,” Royall trilled as she tried to stare over Sebastian's broad shoulder to see where the Baron was.

“I guess you know you're going to be the scandal of this soiree. Most women don't go around snatching men from other partners.”

“Then I just started a new trend,” Royall exuded a confidence she wasn't feeling. “You aren't smiling. Do it, damn you, or I'll kick you where it will do the most good. Do you want me to end up like ...”

“Is this what you mean,” Sebastian grinned as he stretched back his lips to show glistening white teeth in a ghoulish grin. “What seems to be your problem anyway? I thought the Baron looked most attentive. After all, he is your—”

“Shut up, Sebastian, and dance. You aren't exactly light-footed. You've stepped on my toes twice. Just keep your nose out of mine and the Baron's business. You're just doing me a tiny little favor.”

Sebastian threw back his head and laughed. Royall was mortified. “So, I stepped on your toes. I can only do one thing at a time. First, it was smile, show my teeth, then dance, and all the while I'm to be careful so you don't kick me where it will do the most good. Darling lady, I am just a mere man. As for that tiny favor, how many times are you going to call upon my services in payment for that little romp we shared aboard ship?”

“Shhh,” Royall hissed. “That's all it was to you, wasn't it? A romp. Damn you, Sebastian, you really are a no-good, lascivious—”

“Smile, Royall with two L's. People are staring at you. Be sure to show lots of teeth. Another thing, you really aren't too old for a few dance lessons. You've taken the shine from my evening shoes. Clumsy women bore me,” he said, yawning in her face.

Royall's eyes narrowed. She felt herself relax. Before Sebastian knew what was happening, Royall complained at the top of her voice, “How dare you make such an obscene suggestion in my presence? It gives me great pleasure to answer you in kind.” Before she could think twice, she brought up her knee with all the force she could muster.

“Excuse me, pardon me, please let me through,” she begged as she weaved her way through the crowd on the dance floor. When she finally found the powder room, she thought she would faint.

“Lord a mercy, child, what have you done. I have to admit this little soiree was dying on its feet, but was it necessary to set a bonfire to rekindle it? Royall, was it necessary ... What I mean, did you have to ... It's quite possible that you've maimed Sebastian for life. You can't ... it isn't ...
Royall,
young ladies just do not do what you did, especially in front of hundreds of people.”

“Mrs. Quince, I have become very fond of you. In some respects you're like a mother to me. However, in this one instant, you'll have to allow me my ... What I did was well deserved. In years to come every mother in this room will thank me. Their daughters are now safe from his lechery. Find Jamie for me and have him meet me outside on the veranda. He can take me home now that I've disgraced myself. Make my apologies to the Parradays.”

Head high, cheeks flushed, Royall sailed through the doorway. She looked neither to the right nor to the left. Voices buzzed about her as she made her way through the central foyer out to the wide veranda. What if he was really hurt? Romp! Damn his soul to hell. Clumsy! Angry sparks spewed from her amber eyes. Just let one person say just one thing to her in Sebastian's defense and he would get the same thing.

Taking deep breaths, Royall managed to calm herself while she waited for Jamie.

Jamie's face wore a look of concern as he waited patiently for Royall to acknowledge him. She turned; this was the first time she had seen his costume. “Jamie, you look marvelous. I should have known you would come dressed as a toy soldier. No doubt every young lady in the room has her eyes on you.”

“I'm afraid not, Royall. The young ladies have eyes only for Sebastian Rivera. They swoon at his feet. Sometimes it makes me sick. They don't even want to dance with me unless my father tells them they have to. Why do you want to go home? Do you have a headache, or did someone step on your toes?”

“Both, I'm afraid. Are you sure you won't mind missing the ball, Jamie?”

“No, I won't mind. Sebastian managed to get sick or something and every woman in the ballroom is squealing in agony. The men are mooning over him and cursing at the same time. Did you see what happened to him? I tried to find out what happened to him, but no one would tell me.”

Royall shrugged. The less Jamie knew, the better.

A sudden, viselike grip on her arm caused Royall to gasp in fright. “Now that you've made a spectacle of yourself, I suggest you come back to the ballroom and try to act like the lady you're supposed to be. Don't confuse my words as a suggestion. They're an order. I will not have my family humiliated in such a manner, although I think Rivera deserved exactly what you gave him. Now,” the Baron said, holding up his hand to forestall her objections. “I know that it is going to be very embarrassing for you, but you must do it.”

Royall flinched. How right he was. It wasn't any order, nor was it a suggestion. Pure and simple, she recognized it for what it was: a threat.

Assuming her most haughty expression, Royall walked ahead of the Baron as Jamie trailed in their wake.

The music began; the Baron held her around the waist and smiled down at her, and she found herself whirling across the floor. The Baron was a well-practiced dancer, and she fell gracefully into the rhythm of the waltz. “Where is Jamie? Is he still here?”

“He's here. Look, there he is, looking for you, no doubt, to add his name to your dance card.”

Royall followed the Baron's gaze. Jamie stood on the perimeter of the ballroom, his bright red soldier's uniform with brass buttons and insignia gleaming in the light.

“I'm not surprised at his costume,” Royall said quietly, feeling more at ease with the Baron now that he had loosened his arm around her waist.

“Yes,” the Baron replied just as quickly. “As you can see, I don't care for the costumes, that is why I am wearing my dinner jacket. But Jamie wouldn't miss an opportunity to dress.”

Royall felt the Baron was leading her on, and she rose to the bait. “But surely you don't consider yourself old?”

Immediately, he tightened his hold of her; he smiled down at her. “I'm glad you don't think so, Royall ... so glad,” he whispered meaningfully.

At once she became uncomfortable, remembering his intimacy with her when she first arrived. Disgust washed over her, and she concentrated on the dance.

Carlyle Newsome led Royall across the floor, feeling her lithe form in his arms and reveling in the sensation. She was the most stunning creature he had seen in years. She made all the other women appear dowdy and frumpish compared to her natural grace. He had watched her, studied her, compared her through the midst of the countless parties they had attended since the season began. And always she carried herself with an ethereal poise and an air of sublimity. Her brash tongue and undignified actions could be overlooked and forgiven. Damn fool, that Carl! Here he was with the most beautiful girl in Brazil his for the asking, and he would prefer that mouse, Alicia!

As the Baron held Royall, he felt a stirring within him, a familiar chord being struck. He wondered why it had never occurred to him to have Royall for his own. He was only slightly past fifty, not too old for someone as mature as Royall.

Daringly, he held her close to him, and maneuvered her into the reverse position. As he dipped her backward, he could feel the soft protuberance of her breasts, feel her slim torso bend beneath him. He heard the sharp intake of her breath and misunderstood it for excitement.

When they straightened, he laughed softly and was startled to see her annoyance flush on her face. “Sir,” she said sharply, “I do not reverse! It's unbefitting a lady!” Her golden-flecked eyes glittered angrily. There was no mistaking the dislike for him in her voice or the trace of disgust in her look.

Had they been anywhere but here, he would have struck out at that disgust and changed her superior attitude to one of subservience. She would lose her smug look when he slapped her dignity from her and left her cringing at the mere sound of his voice. In that moment Carlyle Newsome knew enmity for Royall, a hate tinged with fear. She caught him unawares and rendered a forceful blow to his image of himself as a man.

Suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed, drawing attention to himself from the other dancers. Let Carl have her; she deserves him, the thin-blooded New England miss who dared to demand an accounting of her inheritance. They deserve each other! The thought brought on a new burst of laughter from deep in the Baron's throat.

He's mad! Royall thought. She had seen the cruel glittering in his gray eyes and it frightened her. Before she could give it more thought, the music stopped and she was being led by the Baron to Mrs. Quince.

Later in the evening, Jamie approached her to claim his dance. He was resplendent in his costume, and his courtly manner was impressive. Still, Royall couldn't help but remember the conversation she had overheard between Jamie and Elena. She really didn't want to dance with him but realized she had no other choice.

Jamie danced surprisingly well, and soon Royall was lost in the music. “When will you be returning to the Casa, Royall? I miss your playing the piano.”

“I'll be back in a day or two, Jamie.” She smiled up at him. Once again Royall was struck by Jamie's handsome good looks. Sandy-colored hair, thick and glossy, a strong, firm jaw. Whereas Carl was handsome, he was more the dandy, but Jamie had a rugged handsomeness, like Sebastian. She furtively glanced at Jamie again; yes, she thought she might have been mistaken, but no, there it was—a marked resemblance to Sebastian. Royall looked away quickly, not wanting Jamie to see her staring at him. Sudden anger rushed through Royall. She was angry with Sebastian for his foolish attitude about his parentage, angry with the Baron for his lewdness. She could well imagine how he had used Sebastian's mother and then tossed her aside. It was slowly becoming apparent to Royall as it had to other people that it was most likely the Baron was Sebastian's father. Suddenly, it dawned on her: could this be the reason the old Baron had disinherited Carlyle Newsome, as she had learned from her father's ledger and then from Victor Morrison? It would appear the dates would coincide. From what she knew of her father's old friend, he would demand that Carlyle do his duty by the girl, and perhaps because he had refused to do that duty, the old Baron had disclaimed him as his son. She meant to find out more about this mystery. “Tell me, Jamie, did you ever know your grandfather?”

“Oh, no. He died before I was born. It was just after father came back from England; that was where he met and married my mother, you know.”

“I heard rumors, Jamie”—here she tread carefully—“ that your grandfather had disinherited your father. How is it then that he came back into your grandfather's good graces?”

“Oh, I don't think he ever did gain the old man's good graces. Once Carl told me that father owns the Reino because no other will could be found, and therefore all properties reverted back to the natural son.” To Royall's knowing ears, it sounded like another of Jamie's well-learned school lessons.

“But surely if your grandfather truly disinherited your father, the properties would not have reverted back to him?” Royall said, testing his knowledge.

“I don't know, Royall. That kind of thing doesn't interest me. It doesn't seem real, somehow. But take my toy soldiers, they're real. I had this costume copied after one of my favorites. It's the kind the British officers wore during the Crimean War.” Noting Royall's preoccupation with his grandfather, Jamie offered, “I could take you for a ride to see the old plantation if you like. It's not far from the new one. As a matter of fact, father copied it line for line, room for room. I think I told you this once before, didn't I?”

“Yes. But I would very much like to see the old ruins. There was a fire, wasn't there?”

“Yes. It makes me sad to think of it. Grandfather died in the fire, you know.”

Royall's eyebrows shot upward, “No. I didn't. I just assumed he died from old age.”

“Oh, no,” Jamie's face turned pale. “We Newsomes always die a violent death.”

“Jamie! Who told you that?”

“No one. But I like to think it's true, then I could show everyone how brave I really am.”