Chapter one So full of artless jealousy is guilt, it spills itself in fearing to be spilt. -William Shakespeare November 5, 1831 London, England I didn''t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for the poor fellow. For all his tailored clothing and the jaunty angle of his hat, which refused to stay on his head properly, he was in a ragged state. A scraggly tuft of hair flopped over one eye and his arms dangled limply at his sides, hindering rather than assisting the pair of footmen who struggled between them to guide him into his place. With one last grunt of effort from the servants, he was hoisted into position to stare down at us with unseeing eyes. A crooked grin stretched across his face. I wasn''t sure I wouldn''t rather his expression have been more fierce. Gnashing teeth or a disapproving scowl would surely be more appropriate.
"I say, now, he looks much too jolly to torch," my brother Trevor remarked beside me, echoing my sentiments. One of the footmen ascended a small stepladder before being handed a bottle of brandy from the butler. He reached up over the lip of the raised serving bowl to douse the enormous oval of dried plum pudding at its center and then proceeded to pour a liberal amount of the liquor down the wooden stake stabbed into the dessert''s middle, on which the smiling effigy had been mounted. The caramel liquid trickled down over the entire concoction to form a lake in the bottom of the crystal dish, perfuming the dining room with its pungent aroma. "Ten quid it sets the flowers on fire," Alfred, the newly minted Lord Tavistock, muttered under his breath just beyond my shoulder. The lush floral arrangements on either side of the display did appear a trifle too close for comfort. As was the greenery draped from the glittering chandelier overhead. The Guy was not so tall as to become tangled in them, but considering the copious amount of brandy the footman had used to drench the pudding, who knew how high the flames would leap.
Trevor scoffed. "Twenty, it sets the entire table alight." At this dire prediction about the demise of the Countess of Redditch''s lavish spread of food, my stomach rumbled, as it did so often of late. My husband''s gaze dropped to mine from where he stood at my other side, his lips quirking in amusement. I lifted a hand to my abdomen self-consciously. "I can''t help it," I whispered. "Not when there are tartlets being dangled before my eyes." "Well, you are eating for two.
" "True." "I just wish they would get on with it," Lorna, Lady Tavistock, huffed. I glanced over my shoulder at her heavily lashed green eyes. Her pretty pink mouth twisted into a moue of displeasure. "This is torturous for a woman in my state." I couldn''t withhold a laugh. "What?" Her lips creased into a coy smile. "I''m sure you know what I mean, Kiera, being in the same predicament.
" Before I could reply, a murmur of excitement swept through the room. I turned back to see that the Earl of Redditch had stepped forward, brandishing a long spill of wood. He lit the tip in one of the candles positioned down the center of the large table and then paused for dramatic effect, grinning at the assembly before him, much like the effigy looming over his silver head. "What say you? Shall I burn the Guy?" Several of the men replied with hearty approval, while others began to clap. We soon all joined in, applauding as he lowered the spill toward the pool of brandy at the base of the pudding. Many of us gasped as a burst of flame flared upward, igniting the dessert and the base of the effigy''s clothing. I pressed a hand to my chest, giggling at my reaction as the fire settled into a steadier blaze. Albeit, one more intense than would be to my liking were the spectacle taking place in my dining room.
I was not unfamiliar with the traditions of Guy Fawkes Night celebrations, which commemorated the foiled Gun Powder Plot of 1605, when Guy Fawkes and his collaborators schemed to blow up the Houses of Parliament. But my past experiences had been limited to the country. There we attended a church service in the morning for the reading of the Observance Act and then gathered with a small party of local nobility and gentry, sometimes walking out to see the bonfires lit in the nearest village after nightfall. These bonfires inevitably featured their own effigy of Guy, but this was the first time I''d seen one burned inside someone''s home, and an earl''s palatial residence, at that. The celebrations among the nobility in London were generally quite tame. However, due to the King''s coronation in September, a larger number than usual of the aristocracy had remained in town for autumn and all the fetes following the royal event. So the Countess of Redditch had decided to host a Bonfire Night Ball, complete with a makeshift bonfire on her dining room table. "I do hope they anchored that effigy in more than that mound of pudding.
" Gage''s brow furrowed as he studied the burning spectacle. "Well, let''s not stand around waiting to see. You and Tavistock fetch us some food before the whole thing goes up in flames," I declared as I swiveled to thread my arm through Lorna''s. "Yes, do," she enthused. Gage''s face split into a grin, but it was his cousin, Alfred, who prodded him forward. "Far be it for me to disobey such an order. If I''ve learned anything in the last three months, it''s never to stand between a woman who is increasing and her food." His eyes twinkled at us devilishly as he danced out of the way, narrowly missing his wife''s playful swat with her fan.
Trevor escorted us, as well as his own dinner companion, Miss Ellen Newbury, through a maze of puffed sleeves, some so voluminous as to double the width of the wearer''s shoulders. I wasn''t sure I would ever reconcile myself to this ridiculous style, much preferring the narrower shoulders of my parma violet gown with ^ la Reine sleeves of blond net. Then again, I had never cared much for what was fashionable. Only recently had I made an effort, so as not to embarrass my new husband. Sebastian Gage was one of the most dashing and attractive gentlemen in all of Britain. That he had wed me, a scandalous outcast, had shocked more than a few members of the ton, and infuriated the mothers of debutantes who each thought their own daughter would be a better match. After settling us at a table, Trevor went off to do his duty filling Miss Newbury''s plate. Unfortunately, I realized too late that we were situated much too close to where Lady Felicity Spencer held sway.
Our gazes locked for a moment across the short distance before I looked away, not wishing to incite her antagonism. Though she had in no way confronted me directly-in fact, I believed I''d only exchanged greetings with her twice-I was well aware of her scorn and not-so-silent ridicule. No, a woman like Lady Felicity would never be so overt with her contempt. Instead, she let her veiled comments to others and reminders about my past do the trick. As such, I had navigated the past ten weeks since our arrival in London by avoiding her and her like. I''d discovered that not all members of society held me in disdain, and so I gravitated toward those who were more welcoming. Lorna herself was somewhat of a persona non grata, being the illegitimate daughter of a nobleman, though in time her status as Viscountess Tavistock would render that fact obsolete. However, the Newburys were among those of sterling reputation who viewed me with kindness, and so I found I could converse easily with Miss Newbury.
The sweet-natured girl had just finished describing to me the bonnet she had purchased earlier that day when my friend, the Dowager Lady Stratford, appeared at my elbow. "Are these seats claimed?" She dimpled at me, her cheeks flushed with happiness. The proscribed mourning period for her rotten blackguard of a husband had only recently ended, and I was pleased to see her attired in a stunning azure evening gown which highlighted her golden beauty. "By you, of course," I replied, pleased to see my cousin Rye was once again her dinner companion. I strongly suspected he had something to do with my friend''s radiance of late. "In all the excitement over the effigy, I suspect you missed it," Charlotte exclaimed in a hushed voice as Rye moved off to fill her plate with choice tidbits. "But several of the gentlemen nearly came to blows in the front hall." "You''re jesting," Lorna gasped.
She shook her head, her eyes wide. "For a moment, I thought Rye was going to have to step in to stop them." She leaned closer. "And one of them was Lord Melbourne." "The home secretary?" I glanced over my shoulder toward the doors, though my view was blocked by those milling about the room. "Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed. And Lord Gage was able to help resolve the situation." This did not surprise me.
Gage''s father was a gentleman inquiry agent of some renown, with a number of highly placed friends, including the former prime minister and war hero-the Duke of Wellington-and even King William himself. That he might a.