Upon a Midnight Dream (16 page)
Read Upon a Midnight Dream Online
Authors: Rachel Van Dyken
One may smile and smile, and be a villain!—Hamlet
That night as Rosalind looked in the mirror at her silk ball gown, she let out a giggle of delight. She hadn’t been to a ball since the night of Stefan’s re-appearance into society. Her nerves were on edge but only because the last time she was at a ball, she had promptly fallen asleep under one of the spells that so often plagued her. Mayhap the sickness was leaving her. Doctors were proven wrong all the time, weren’t they? And she hadn’t had a spell for months!
She took a sip of tea that Willard had brought and exhaled as she donned her new gloves and went in search of her sisters.
Stefan was waiting at the bottom of stairs looking more like a duke than she had ever seen him. Shuddering with delight at his devil may care smile, she felt herself flush as she met him at the bottom of the stairs.
“One more day,” he said as he kissed her hand.
“Pardon?”
His eyes raked her up and down. “I’ll allow your imagination to finish the sentiment.”
Before she could swat him for his rakish attitude, her sisters descended the stairs giggling in excitement. They were beautiful. Isabelle was in a light yellow that brought out her warm features and Gwen was in an off-white that set off her red rose lips and dark hair to perfection.
“Shall we, ladies?” Stefan announced holding out his arm to Rosalind. They all nodded and followed him out to the ducal carriage.
As they were announced at the ball, Rosalind could not help but wince as people began whispering immediately. No doubt, they were all privy to the rumors surrounding both families and the mysterious deaths that encumbered them.
“Pay them no mind.” Stefan whispered. “Today you enter as a lady, tomorrow you will be received as a duchess.”
Gaining strength from his words, Rosalind was able to nod and smile at those who would wish ill of her and talk about her.
“Grandmother,” Stefan said as the dowager of Barlowe approached them with her jeweled hands extended. “Stefan! And look who is with you! Have I understood correctly that you both are to be married tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Stefan said looking away. “It will be a short private ceremony we aren’t inviting anyone, just merely want to be done with the whole business.”
“Well, I never!” The Dowager sputtered. “My dear, he is such a rakehell please forgive his misdeeds and marry him despite his foolishness.” She turned back to Stefan, “And you!” She poked him in the chest. “A woman’s wedding day is very important, how dare you say otherwise. I am appalled.” With a shake of her head she walked off leaving Rosalind with the terrible problem of hiding her laughter from Stefan.
“Laugh all you want, the woman has no shame, she also seems to know everyone’s secrets, though for the life of me I cannot figure out how. It appears she has ears everywhere. Be careful Rose, it seems the room is enchanted.” He winked and led her to the refreshments.
Rosalind took in the expanse ballroom. It did in fact seem enchanted, whites and silvers were everywhere, the candlelight dancing on the walls and ceiling. A sudden chill washed over her. Why was her excitement always followed by foreboding?
Deciding that she needed to enjoy herself, she watched as several people nodded to her and stared at Stefan as if he was Adonis himself. It wasn’t as big of a crush as normal. People seemed to be enjoying the food and drink more than usual as well. Debutantes weren’t dancing in droves, and it seemed that every hallway was darkly lit, whereas during the season it was hard to make an escape.
“So you’ve decided to come back to us, is that it?” A masculine voice interrupted her thoughts.
Turning on her heel, she gasped and let out a laugh as Lord Rawlings bowed over her hand. “I imagine I should ask for a dance before my wife sees you and doesn’t allow any of us the pleasure of your company.”
With dark hair and bright eyes, the man had always been pleasurable to look at. But he was her dear friend, Abby’s husband. And a better husband Rosalind had never seen. In all honesty, it was what made her heart sick when thinking of a forced marriage. For one moment, she wanted to know what it would be like to have a man look at her the way Rawlings looked at his wife.
“Shall we?” he asked, his hand outstretched.
As they twirled around the floor, Rosalind could not help but reflect on her first impression of the man. Dark, dangerous, and a rake at heart. His countenance was now different, happier, and more comfortable in his own skin than she had ever seen him. It also helped that women didn’t throw reticules at his head anymore, but that was an entirely different story.
“Are you well, Lady Rosalind?” Rawlings turned, and joined hands with her again.
“As well as I can be. I’m to be married.”
Rawlings smile vanished. “To whom?”
Suddenly shy and not at all confident she should be sharing her tale of woe, she shrugged. “The Duke of Montmouth.”
“Ah, the barbarian lost at sea. Tell me, does he use utensils at the table or merely growl and chew his meat like a brute?”
“Both.” Rosalind laughed. “But to be fair, he has been very good to me.”
Lord Rawlings squinted, looking into her eyes with such seriousness that she felt the need to turn away. “And the state of your heart, Rosalind? Let us talk of that matter. Do you love him?”
Leave it to Rawlings, once the most notorious rake in all of London, to pose such a question. “I cannot seem to help my heart from doing so, yes.”
“And does he reciprocate your affection?”
The dance was coming to an end, and Rosalind was suddenly feeling tired, as if lead was pouring into her slippers.
“I can only hope that one day he will.”
Satisfied, Rawlings turned her once more and bowed over her gloved hand. “Then I won’t kill him.”
“Rawlings!” she scolded, but noticed he wasn’t at all joking. With a smile she curtsied. “There is no need for you to kill him.”
“Yes, please don’t kill him,” a deep and sensual voice interrupted.
“Ah, the barbarian approaches.” Rawlings flashed a grin and pumped Stefan’s hand. “A very wise woman once told me that women rarely play fair. I hope you understand what you are getting yourself into.”
“I believe I can handle myself.”
“It wasn’t your emotional state I was referring to.” Rawlings flashed another serious glance at Rosalind and bowed. “Do come visit us during your stay. Abby would be very pleased.”
“Of course, my lord.”
Stefan cursed under his breath and pulled Rosalind from the edge of the dance floor, doing nothing to hide his jealous sneer. “Just what was the man getting at? Was he rude to you? Why are you smiling? Devil take it, Rose!”
“Why, are you jealous?”
“That’s preposterous.” Stefan swore than patted his head. “I’m merely trying to protect you. I know Lord Rawlings to be a good fellow, but I may not trust him as easily as you though. He was quite the notorious rake.”
“He offered to kill you.” Rosalind added cheerfully, thinking it would be quite interesting to see Stefan’s color change to a purplish hue of rage.
“He what!” Stefan bellowed.
“Rose!” Isabelle approached in a hurry. “Rose, he’s here.”
“He?” Rosalind asked.
“Whom?” Stefan looked at Isabelle his curiosity obviously piqued as well as his color, perhaps she should be kinder to the man.
Isabelle flushed, “Domi—”
“—Dominique Makyslov, Earl of Hariss.” A deep cultured voice interrupted them, and Rosalind found herself wanting to kick Isabelle for not giving more warning that the man in question had followed her.
Turning, she looked into icy blue eyes and suddenly felt the need to hide behind Stefan. Though the man matched Stefan in height as well as build, a cold bitter cynicism lay behind his eyes. Unruly black hair fell below his ears and when he smiled it reminded her of a gothic horror story where the man was really a werewolf.
“To what do we owe the honor, my lord?” Stefan asked in smooth tones.
“Why, Your Grace, you of all people should be privy to the reasons of my visit, that is unless—”
The man stopped with a cold gleam in his eye, flashing his teeth in a wickedly handsome smile and held up his hands. “My apologies, by the look on your face I can see you were not made aware of my visit. Very peculiar.”
His voice was smooth with only a slight accent giving way to his foreign heritage. The new earl looked at Isabelle longer than Rosalind thought appropriate, his eyes intense and methodical, as they seemed to stroke across her ever curve, until Stefan cleared his throat.
“Apologies again, Your Grace. I do believe we will be seeing each other soon. Enjoy your evening, ladies.” With a fluid bow he left. Rosalind gave an involuntary shiver before standing closer to Stefan.
“Well, he wasn’t so bad.” Isabelle finally broke the silence.
“Not so bad?” Rosalind wanted to shake her sister as she watched the man's disappearing form with more than curiosity. “Isabelle, listen to me. You are never to allow that man near you, do you understand?”
“Of course, Rose.” Isabelle smiled and walked in the opposite direction away from her and Stefan.
“I feel a headache coming on.” Rosalind said once alone with Stefan near the dancing.
He offered his arm and escorted her out of the crush. “Well, sweetheart, we only have to stay long enough to give the gossips something to talk about for tea during afternoon calls.”
Rosalind clenched her teeth. The last thing she wanted was to be the object of gossip again. If anything it seemed the curse on their family wasn’t death but to be perpetual gossip for the ton to sink their fangs into.
Leaning against Stefan as much as she could without thumbing her nose at propriety, she suddenly felt a tingling sensation in her legs. Her breathing slowed at a rapid rate. It was torture keeping her head up, if she just closed her eyes once, just one time.
“Rose,” Stefan whispered near her head. “Rose?” His voice more urgent, she wanted to shake her head to tell him she was fine and that the spell would pass as it always did, instead she felt worse than previous times. If she could, she would be sucking in air faster than she currently was. Her lungs would not work, and her legs and arms were unable to move. Warm hands were suddenly on her, and she was lifted into the air as the black took over.
****
Stefan felt a sense of history repeating itself as Rosalind again fainted or fell asleep into his arms. Only this time, he was fortunate to be hidden away from the crush of people, which made it easier for him to escort her down the hall. Panic at her wellbeing overwhelmed the need he felt rush through his body at having her in his arms again. Clenching his teeth, he slowly made his way back towards the hallway near the far side of the room.
Finally reaching the darkened escape route, one arm held her while the other tried the doors. The first few were locked, finally nearing the end of the hallway and perspiring with the task at hand, the door finally gave. He rushed her in through the darkness, shuffling across the hard floor until his foot hit a stool.
Biting back an oath he continued towards the only light in the room, coming straight from the open curtains, the full moon.
The room was dead silent; he pulled Rosalind into his lap as he sat on the bench in the window.
“Rose?” He caressed her face, cursing his hands for shaking as they pushed back hair that had fallen across her cheekbone. God above, she was breathtaking. Her skin so soft that he could no more stop touching her than stop breathing. Her lips parted and let out a shallow breath of air.
Curious, he looked closer, tilted her towards the moonlight and noticed the shade of light blue across it.
This spell was not like the others.
“Propriety is cursed,” he said turning her on his knee as he pulled at her dress, first unfastening the buttons with rapid speed, and then loosening her stays until he knew she could breathe. Once the dress was loose on her form he waited for color to return to her face. Cursing, he leaned in only to see the blue still across her lips.
What the devil was wrong with her?
He could do nothing save hold her and wait. Never had fear gripped his heart as strong as in that moment.
Finally, after an eternity, she stirred in his arms. “Rose!”
She coughed and moaned. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to speak through pale lips.
“Rose?” He slowly patted her face, willing her eyes to open.
Her eyes fluttered open, like tiny pin points she kept opening and closing them as if trying to focus. “Stefan?”
“Yes, love. Careful. I, uh...” Blast. How was he to explain this predicament?
I unfastened your corset in your sleep?
He groaned and changed the subject. “You couldn’t breathe. Do you remember anything?”
She choked on a sob and threw her arms around his neck. “It’s never been like that before! I’m dying! Stefan, I know it. I should have told you. I hadn’t a spell since the first ball we met at! I must be dying!”
He wasn’t sure what alarmed him more, Rosalind unable to breathe or Rosalind giving into fear untypical of her normal strength.
“Love, look at me.”
Shaking, she pulled back, he silently thanked God that her lips were returning to their cherry hue. “You are not dying.”
“You don’t know...I have these spells, and you don’t know!”
“Rosalind, you are not dying. I won’t allow it. And we’ve discussed this in detail. The spells were not affecting you when in the country side. There must be a simple explanation. I refuse to believe the curse has anything to do with it. ”
At that she laughed. “Oh, and how do you plan to stop my sleeping spells or my disease, Stefan? Merely order the angel of death to stay put?”
“If I have to.” He chuckled. “Rose, other than your spells, you are a healthy, stubborn woman. We’ll simply trust in that for now. And, I doubt your spells have been anything like this, have they?”
Slowly, she shook her head. “No, I’ve always been able to breathe. This time I felt as if the world was suffocating me. Everything was constricting and then my dress—“
She glanced down at the loose fabric and to Stefan’s irritation it was at that exact moment that he heard someone try the door to the room.
Quickly, he pulled the curtains around them and lifted Rosalind further into the corner and onto his lap, the curtains easily covered them as long as the intruder didn’t fancy a look at the moonlight.
He motioned for her to be still and quiet. She nodded, and if he wasn’t so concerned about her health, his family, getting married, or the fact that something was causing everyone to die, he would be enjoying this moment. The smell of her skin trapped inside their alcove, her hair rubbing his chin and her supple body fitting snuggly into his, as if made for one another.
“Cheroot?” The voice sounded familiar, though it was hushed, as if the man was trying to disguise himself. Stefan couldn’t quite pinpoint it, and he wasn’t about to expose them by making a move to peek through the curtain.
“I did not travel all this way to share a smoke and brandy with you as you are well aware.”
“Ah, yes, well. It was polite of me to ask, don’t you think?” The man laughed nervously.
“Forgive me, but nothing about you seems polite.” The other man said sternly. And then it hit Stefan, the one man was Dominique; his voice held that calculated smoothness. As if he needed to talk slow and concise lest his accent make a sudden appearance.
“You owe me,” Dominique said plainly.
“It was a misunderstanding, my lord nothing more.” The man coughed, his voice scratchy.
Dominique let out a beastly laugh. “A misunderstanding you say? How was it to be a misunderstanding when I discovered you tried to rob my own fortune away from me? Or are you referring to the misunderstanding when you set about murdering my valet?”
The room was dead silent.
“Or,” Dominique chuckled. “Are you referring to the misunderstanding of blackmail, when you threatened to kill me once I exposed who fathered the youngest girl.”
“That is quite enough, my lord!” The man yelled as best he could with his voice still seemingly hoarse.
“Ah, a misunderstanding perhaps?” Dominique offered.
“Name your price.”
“Money, as you well know, is no object. Yet I am wise enough to see that you have none to offer me, so it seems we are at an impasse, are we not?”
The man cursed. “I haven’t any money, and you know it!”
“Ah, but what of value are you in possession of my good man? Therein lies the question. What are you willing to give that I do not already have?”
“Heartless beast! That’s what you are!”
Dominique chuckled. “I’ve been called worse. Now, what are you willing to sacrifice for my silence at your indiscretions or as you put them misunderstandings?”
The silence in the room was deafening. Stefan could feel Rosalind’s heart beating wildly in her chest.
Stefan wasn’t sure how this would end, but it couldn’t be good. Was not money the only currency in which men spoke?
“My daughter.” The broke his silence. “If I give you my daughter, the youngest. Will that suffice?”
“That falls to you. How much would you say your daughter means to you?” Dominique asked.
“She’s all I have, all I was allowed to have of her mother. When her mother married another….well, you can imagine...” The man’s voice trailed off.
“And if I accept. I will be the one making the terms of this contract, yes?”
“Yes.” The man’s voice was hoarse.
“Splendid. And considering it seems you are in desperate need of money. I shall strike a bargain with you.”
“I’m listening.” The man’s voice perked up, sudden interest evident.
“You are to never visit her. Ever. When I take your daughter, I will destroy her faith in men every day that I am with her. I will poison her against you. I will glory in your weakness as I expose to her the devil you really are. And if you die, she will not attend your funeral. I hope she laughs on that day that that tears are from joy that her once beloved father is dead. If you can promise me all these rights, I will allot you the sum of one hundred thousand pounds.”
“One hundred thousand pounds! That’s a devil’s fortune!”
“It seems your offer is too sweet for me to deny, think of it as payment. You have sold your daughter to me. A gentleman’s arrangement. Shall we shake on it?” Dominique asked his voice getting louder and sounding more irritated by the minute.
“Y-yes, my lord. When will you send for her?” the man asked.
Dominique let out a bark of laughter. “I assumed you understood. I will not be sending for her. I will be returning with her. Make the preparations. I shall send over the contract in the morning when my man picks her up.”
“But!” the man yelled.
“A deal is a deal…” Dominique clipped.
The door clicked open and shut again.
The man was still lingering, and all Stefan could hear was weeping and words that were so horrible to his ears he couldn’t bear it. “It will be worth it. It will all be worth it. My love, you will pay for your sins.”