Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1 Read online

  After giving George a hug, Faith drew him out of the room, nodding to James who followed them silently. She went straight to Lord Ellesmere, chin high in her best aristocratic manner. Before she reached him he swept her a low bow, his eyes never leaving their focus on her face. His sweet smile was one, she guessed, that few people had ever seen. “It will be a delight to escort you tonight.”

  “I thought you would escort your sister.”

  The smile turned to a grin. “No. I have a surprise for you.”

  He would not tell her what the surprise was or even allow her to question him about it. He led her to the drawing room where the others waited.

  A man, dressed in a grey so light it looked like silver, had his back to her, but turned when she entered the room on Ellesmere’s arm. It took her a moment to recognize him, but when she did her mouth dropped open in shock. “Lord Stretton. Is it really you?”

  Chuckling, he swept her a bow fully as elegant as the one Ellesmere had given her. “Indeed, ma’am, it is. I have much to thank you for, not least finding me a safe haven here.”

  “Are you fully recovered?”

  He slanted her a sideways look from gleaming silver eyes. Eyes so familiar a colour that she gasped. “Fully, ma’am.” He glided forward, and instinctively she moved closer to Ellesmere. Stretton paused, the full skirts of his formal coat swaying against his muscular legs, displayed to advantage by skin-tight hose and breeches. “Pardon me,” he said gently.

  Faith realized she was guilty of the very behaviour she had always condemned. The equivalent of the man in the Bible who moved away from the leper, ignoring him. She moved away from her protector and faced Stretton. “No, sir. Pardon me. I was surprised to see you looking so well, that’s all.” Deliberately she reached out and touched his hand. He took it and kissed it, his lips barely brushing the backs of her knuckles. She gave him her best society smile.

  “You caught me at my worst, ma’am. I have episodes. I am not dangerous to anyone except myself.”

  Faith doubted that. The roguish charm he effortlessly exuded was not innocent. Neither was his innate elegance or the steady regard of those amazing silver eyes. She could look into them for a long, long time.

  Faith broke off her thoughts when she realized where they led. Under Lord Stretton’s amused regard, she studied him. “You look very well.”

  “I must let you in on a secret,” he said, leaning forward as though to vouchsafe a confidence. “I recovered two days ago, but these episodes exhaust me, so I laid low and rested. On the night I went before Fielding I had decided not to racket about quite so much but, I reasoned, one last night would do no harm.” He drew back and dipped his hand in his pocket. “Alas, I was wrong, and it was nearly my undoing.” Drawing out an exquisite enamelled box, he opened it and took a tiny pinch of snuff. He even made that an elegant act. He offered the box to Ellesmere, who refused with a small shake of his head. Flipping the box closed, he put it away. “I swear on my heart I won’t do such a thing again.” He paused. “Soon.”

  He turned when Lady Deborah approached him, smiling in a heart-stopping way. Lady Deborah gave him a cool nod. He sighed theatrically, with a dramatic heaving of his chest under the glittering embroidery of his waistcoat. “Have I lost your sympathy, Lady Deborah? Is it all gone now I am recovered? Do I need to undergo a relapse before I feel your gentle fingers stroke my forehead once more?”

  Deborah blushed a deep rose and her father, until now watching the encounter in silence, strode forward. “See here, Stretton, I will not have my daughter traduced. I dislike her activities, but to now I have condoned them for her sake.”

  Stretton smiled, sweetly, innocently and swept the duke a deep bow. “Forgive me, sir. I thought my gentle teasing would make Lady Deborah smile, not embarrass her. My lamentable lack of social graces is only too evident.” He shot Faith a glance, brows arched.

  Did he suspect the same thing Faith had? That there was more to her ladyship than met the eye? Faith still felt guilty, thinking this about a woman Gerard held in high esteem, and she’d seen nothing to contradict Gerard’s opinion. But sometimes when Deborah was in her vicinity, Faith felt her skin prickle. Probably her imagination.

  The duke glared at him. Stretton met the glare mildly and then dropped his eyelids, breaking the contact. He did not offer to leave, as the duke patently wanted. His Grace grunted and moved back. “I’ll be watching you.”

  “The notion fills me with terror.” Stretton took out his box and opened it, staring reflectively at the contents before snapping the box shut and putting it away. He brought his gaze to Lady Deborah. “I hope this does not give you a dislike of me, ma’am. Indeed, I am exceedingly grateful for your help. Without it, I might still be in that place.” His attention went to George. Faith held her breath. “My friend here knows what I mean, perhaps more than anyone else.” His voice softened, losing the edge he had when he’d addressed the duke. “We spent two nights chained next to each other. Lord Fordhouse had been there nigh on a fortnight. I am very glad I made his acquaintance. It gave me some comfort, where I expected none.”

  George looked directly at Lord Stretton. Faith let out her breath. George rarely looked anyone in the eye. Faith was desperately worried about his reception tonight, but at least the people in this room would do their best to protect him.

  A hand touched hers, bringing her a comfort she had never known before. Turning to Lord Ellesmere, she allowed him to see the warmth in her eyes before she lifted her hand to lay it on his arm in the approved society manner. “It’s a long time since I had an earl for an escort,” she commented. “I shall enjoy that.”

  “Alas, ma’am, my title is a courtesy one, but I’ll do my poor best.” He swung them around and headed for the door and the carriage.

  Despite the early season, carriages lined the street by Lady Brangton’s door, and people passed through the imposing portals dressed in clothes that, if sold, could feed a houseful of silk weavers for a year.

  Faith was one of them. Her gown extravagant and fine, jewels glittering, she stepped out of the carriage and went forward on the arm of a beautifully dressed peer’s son. She almost felt she belonged. Almost.

  Announced and standing at the edge of the dance floor, Faith eyed the company and kept George within her sights. A soft sigh came from above her head. “I wish you would relax and enjoy yourself. You’re worrying for both of you.”

  She glanced at him and smiled. “He worries too. He hates company.”

  “We won’t keep him here more than an hour. That should be more than sufficient, then he can plead a headache and James can take him home.”

  “Home,” she repeated. “I haven’t had one of those for some time.”

  “It’s a pleasure to have you in ours. One day you will have one of your own.”

  “You sound so sure of it.”

  “I am.”

  They gazed at each other, sharing a brief moment of intimacy before tearing their eyes away. Faith didn’t know how to deal with such closeness. She would have to leave soon before her feelings overwhelmed her and made matters far more complicated. Her thoughts must all be for her brother, until he was out of danger from their father. She looked away to find a matron in puce staring, her expression decidedly disapproving.

  Ellesmere followed her gaze and made a small tsking sound. “Lady Riverton. She’s been after me for her eldest for years. Think nothing of it.”

  “But I must,” Faith protested, without looking back at him. “I can’t have our names linked.”

  “Why not?” His deep voice was pure temptation, rippling through her senses like fine wine. “It will help keep the predators away from me.”

  “You must marry one day.”

  Silence. Then, in a different, less intimate tone, he said, “I don’t think so. My father is constantly at me to marry and set up my nursery, but it won’t happen.”

  “Yes, it will.” She wasn’t good enough for him. She didn’t need the duke to
tell her that. She already knew. Her rank and station came nowhere near his. The duke would be looking much higher for a wife for his son.

  “No.” He raised his voice. Several heads turned and people stared at them, openly curious as to the cause of his disquiet. He groaned softly. “Please forgive me. It’s not your fault that I’m sensitive about the subject. My father never stops matchmaking, and it’s very tiresome.”

  “I understand.” She kept her voice low. She still thought that he’d find someone, one day.

  But it couldn’t be her. When a young man she had known when she had entered society before solicited her hand for the next minuet, she accepted with alacrity and didn’t return to Ellesmere when the dance finished. By now, George was sitting on a sofa at the side of the dance floor, Deborah next to him, holding court.

  Bold in her beauty and confident in attitude, Deborah was the epitome of the leader of society in female form. She could have as many suitors as she wished, and discard them too. Faith admired her but could not imagine what it felt like to have that wealth and respect at her command.

  Faith watched as her new partner brought her a glass of white wine. She sipped and engaged in desultory conversation, not giving anything away about her presence here, and why she’d remained away for so long. Deborah only allowed a few people to get close to George.

  Faith smiled at her partner and expressed a desire to join her brother. The young man glanced across the room at George before holding his arm out for her to take. Under the velvet sleeve, she felt bones and guessed he had the lankiness of youth. So unlike the furled strength that Ellesmere possessed, power that showed in every movement of his body.

  Deborah greeted them with a smile as they approached, and George gave her a warmer one. Faith was glad he didn’t seem under strain, but guilty heat washed over her. She was putting George on display like a trained monkey. He didn’t understand, and she would have to explain very carefully the ramifications of her decision. She had explained once but that it would take many repetitions to help him to understand. This change, from concealment to open display would confuse George, and he needed to understand, so he could play his part and not feel fear.

  “Are you well, George?” she asked.

  He beamed at her. Too widely, but at least he’d give the appropriate response. “Very well. I like it here.”

  “Good. You may tire soon. Do you want me to take you home?”

  He glanced around, his eyes flicking from one face to the next, and she recognised familiar signs of oncoming panic. “Yes,” he said.

  “Would you mind if James went with you?” She hadn’t heard Ellesmere come up behind her. Confound it, why couldn’t the man leave her alone?

  George stared at her and then lifted his gaze to the man standing behind her. His beautiful smile appeared, more natural this time. “No, I don’t mind. You’ll bring her home later?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Faith’s heart ached when she heard George refer to the Boscobel house as “home”. He had never called their father’s house home, and the grimy room she had rented in Vinegar Yard was as far from an image of comfort and peace as it was possible to be. More than anything else she wanted to give her brother somewhere safe, a haven.

  One way or another, she would do it, even if it meant sacrificing herself again to another old man. She swallowed. She would be lucky to get a man like her late husband, kind but old and so—old.

  A wave of tiredness swept over her and she excused herself, leaving the big ballroom to find a withdrawing room. A footman put her in the way of it and left her at the door. She opened the door and went in. A large Chinese screen stood at one end of the room for the more retiring ladies, and a large cupboard which must contain the pots stood by it. A large, bare dressing table occupied the other long wall, a place where ladies could put their appearance to rights. One or two maids lounged on the chairs scattered about, but they stood when Faith went in.

  She went behind the screen, pleased to find a chair there, as well as the necessaries. Taking it with a sigh, she leaned back and closed her eyes. A few minutes were all she needed to regain her strength and her enthusiasm for this plan. George would leave soon, and she had expected to leave with him, but it seemed she was to remain a while longer. She supposed she should do the right thing and make her presence felt, but she had no desire to prolong the torture.

  She had seen the glances cast her way, knew people had recognized her. One woman had even moved her skirts out of the way as she passed. She doubted anyone else noticed. Lady Deborah was fully occupied with George, showing no sign of seeing the gestures, and Lord Ellesmere—well, men never noticed these things.

  The click of the door alerted her to the arrival of more guests. They entered, chattering noisily. Faith was about to stand and leave when she heard her name.

  “Did you see Lady Bradley?”

  “Oh yes, I did,” came another voice. “Hussy.”

  “Who is Lady Bradley?” another voice chimed in. This one sounded younger.

  The first lady rejoined the conversation. “She married Sir William Bradley, a man with a tidy fortune. She was eighteen and he was seventy.”

  “No!” The gasp sounded more thrilled than shocked. The speaker would not have been thrilled had she suffered the wedding night Faith underwent. She probably wouldn’t have managed it smiling, either.

  “She set out to snare him. So did her father. Dreadful man, thank goodness he keeps to the country these days. Well, she got him and she killed him in a twelvemonth.”

  “How?”

  “Goodness, Mary, you’re a married woman now. Guess.”

  Faith closed her eyes. She felt sick.

  The first woman continued, her voice gaining in volume. “Now she’s making sheep’s eyes at Ellesmere, as if she has any chance with him. He’s remained aloof for years, and the only chance she has is climbing into his bed, but certainly not accompanying him to the altar.”

  The other older woman remarked, “She’s staying at his house. Lady Deborah says they have known each other for years, but I don’t remember seeing them together.”

  “It’s the boy she’s interested in helping, but since he’s the woman’s brother, I suppose that’s how they worked their way in.”

  “I heard the boy was mad.” A pause, and Faith heard a shush of silk as one woman crossed to the dressing table. She curled her feet inside her gown, like a hedgehog wrapping itself up against attack. “That curl. Pin it.” Her voice softened to a malicious purr when she spoke to her friends again. “The boy isn’t mad, just simple. He will do. However, the sister—she will not be allowed to continue. I will speak against her and keep my daughters away from her. She is a contaminating influence.”

  Faith finally recognized the voice. Lady Eaton. She took a couple of deep breaths and put her shield into place before she stood and swept out from behind the screen.

  Two ladies stood at one side of the room, washing their hands. Lady Eaton sat at the dressing table, a maid behind her with a mouthful of black-headed pins. She relished the frozen silence.

  Faith put her chin. “Good evening, ladies. I’m afraid I heard that.” She turned to the two on one side of the room. “Perhaps you might be interested to know that of Lady Eaton’s five daughters, she offered two of them to my late husband before I married him. One was only sixteen at the time.” Sweeping around, she faced the outraged matron, meeting her reflected stare in the large, gilded mirror. “Lady Eaton, my father compelled me to the marriage, as you would no doubt have compelled your daughters. I was fortunate in his choice. William was both considerate and kind, and I miss him.” William had protected her from her father’s sneers and punishments. His presence in her bed was endurable and had given him great pleasure. He never abused or used her less than kindly.

  “Miss that old lecher?” Lady Eaton sneered.

  “William was never that. He was married to his first wife for forty years and never had a mistress in all that
time. I will not allow you to traduce his character.” She owed him that, and more. “He never had one while I was married to him either.”

  “You provided more than a whore could,” said Lady Eaton. “And you cost much less.” Her lips curled up in a sneer, and Faith saw small cracks form in her maquillage.

  Faith refused to be outwardly riled, although inside she was trembling with fury. “Most wives do cost less. I was his wife and I did my duty. I obeyed my father, and I obeyed my husband.” Much good the former had done her. “I never whored for anyone.” She crossed to the door, ignoring the fascinated stares of the other two women, and the maids. “Whereas you, Lady Eaton, have four dark-haired daughters and one whose hair could set the sun alight, it’s so fair.”

  Not waiting for the outraged spluttering to subside, Faith swept out of the room.

  At least she wasn’t tired anymore. Her anger took care of any fatigue. And what they were saying about her. Unfair, but when was society ever fair? She could bear anything if it benefited George and prevented her father sending him away to a hell on earth.

  On going back to the ballroom, Faith met the stares of some of the women with stares of her own, meeting their gazes boldly. She walked over to Lady Deborah, now sitting alone on the sofa, and took the vacant place her brother had occupied.

  Deborah smiled. “My goodness, you look magnificent, Faith. I’ve never seen your eyes sparkle quite so much. Has something happened?”

  Since they were relatively private, Faith dropped her voice to a low murmur and told her the essence of her recent encounter in the withdrawing chamber. Deborah’s eyes sparked in fury. “How dare they? I shall refute that with everything I have. I’m due to visit Lady Spenborough’s salon tomorrow. It’s a literary salon, but we’re not above gossip. I shall be certain to spread the story. Everyone knows she has five plain girls to settle.”

  “Four plain girls,” Faith corrected her. “The fifth is ravishing. A lovely blonde girl, making her come-out this year.”