Gothic Romance - (LGBT)

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen 

In normal circumstances, a young lady attending a ball would be fiercely guarded by a female relative but this was certainly not a normal ball. Jonathan looked around but no-one seemed to be paying them any attention. He couldn't help wondering what on earth the girl was doing here.  

The girl smiled up at him, a trifle nervously he thought.  

Jonathan bowed. "Jonathan Winter, at your service, Miss-?" He broke off invitingly. 

"Fredericka Murray," she answered in a soft deep voice. Had there been a slight pause before the 'a' was added to the end of her name? Suddenly suspicious, Jonathan took a closer look. Her skin was soft and smooth around her chin, a bare hint of an adam's apple in her slender throat. 

To his considerable dismay, he couldn't tell for certain, but he had a sinking feeling he was talking to a very feminine young man. 

She or possibly he, dropped their eyes demurely, a faint blush rising on her cheeks as he continued to stare. 

Jonathan was frantically trying to think of a polite way to disengage when he heard the sounds of someone approaching from behind him. Fredericka looked up, her eyes widening in dismay as she saw who was coming. Her slender hands gripped each other tightly in her lap and Jonathan turned, to see a tall stranger just behind him. The man was in evening dress, with thick blond hair brushed back from his forehead and a cruel smile on his thin lips. "There you are, my pretty one," he was saying, ignoring Jonathan completely. 

Male or female, Jonathan's chivalry rose to the fore. It was evident to even the most casual observer that this man was frightening Fredericka. 

He bowed again. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?" The words were out before he had really thought. 

Fredericka rose quickly, putting her hand in his. "Yes, thank you, sir," she murmured softly. 

The stranger glared at both of them and for a moment Jonathan thought he was going to protest. But he merely bowed his head in the briefest acknowledgement. "Later, then," he said, looking at Fredericka. 

Jonathan led his partner out onto the dance floor, sparing a moment to be grateful that it was a country dance, and not the new fangled waltz where partners had to hold each other in their arms.  

It was customary to engage in polite conversion during the dance, but for the life of him, Jonathan couldn't think of anything to say. He could hardly blurt out what was uppermost in his mind, who was that man, why does he scare you and by the way are you a man or a woman? 

Instead he fell back on platitudes, asking Fredericka about what she had seen so far of London. After a few awkward moments, they were soon chatting quite safely about the rival charms of St Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey.  

Lord D'Anvers observed them from the other side of the room, unaware that a frown was gathering on his brow. He had been amused at first, watching Jonathan's advances, waiting for him to realise the truth. No-one had been more surprised than he when Jonathan asked the girl-boy to dance. The frown deepened as he watched them chat and smile at each other. He wasn't jealous of course, that would be beneath him, but he had to admit he didn't like it. Jonathan was his, god damn it! 

"Yours?" asked a silky voice in his ear, echoing his thoughts uncannily.  

D'Anvers turned slightly, instantly recognising the tall man who had come up beside him unnoticed. He was one of the few who had not bothered with a mask. 

"Silverwood," he greeted the man with a tiny nod. He knew Silverwood more by reputation than personally. From the gossip he had heard, he was not someone who he would welcome as a friend. He felt a brief twinge of pity for the youngster Silverwood had his eye on, but he didn't want the man's attention turning to Jonathan.  

"Mine," he agreed, staking his claim firmly. 

Both men watched as the dance ended and the musicians struck up a waltz. But instead of returning to their seats, the young couple stayed on the dance floor, Jonathan taking Fredericka into his arms and twirling her round the room as if he had been practising for years. It was a perfect moment for a private conversation and Jonathan didn't waste any time. "Who is that man? You seemed unhappy to see him," he phrased delicately. 

For a minute he thought Fredericka wasn't going to answer him. He heard a soft sigh then she murmured. "Lord Silverwood. My guardian." It was the last answer he had expected. "I'm an orphan. My parents died of fever when I was quite young, and I went to live with my uncle in the country, near Lord Silverwood's estate. All was well, until my uncle died last year and I discovered he had gambling debts." She broke off and concentrated on her steps for a few minutes. 

Jonathan waited silently, hoping she would continue her story. Encouraged by the kind interest in his eyes, Fredericka spoke again. "You can imagine my dismay when I found myself destitute, I didn't know which way to turn. Then Lord Silverwood came to see me, he told me he was a friend of my uncle's and offered to settle the debts and give me a home. At first it seemed as if all my prayers had been answered."  

She came to a sudden halt, as if realising she was telling too much to a stranger. "Still, I shouldn't complain," she stated briskly, her confidences at an end. "I have a roof over my head, enough to eat ... what more could I want?"  

The next moment, he felt a tap on the shoulder. "My dance now, I think," said Lord D'Anvers in a decisive tone. 

Jonathan relinquished Fredericka with reluctance. He felt there was more to her story, a darker side than she had yet told him. He hoped D'Anvers was going to be gentle with her, but his lordship wasn't after Fredericka. 

He put his strong arms around Jonathan and swept him into the dance before he could protest. Jonathan stumbled for a couple of steps, trying to adjust to the change of position. He felt a firm hand in the middle of his back steadying him, then pressing him close, far closer than he had held Fredericka. Their hips were pressed against each other and Jonathan could feel that D'Anvers was already half aroused. 

He tried, unsuccessfully, to draw back a fraction but D'Anvers only held him tighter. He smiled down at him. "Enjoying yourself?" he teased. "I never realised a waltz could be so ... exciting. I can see this becoming my favourite dance." 

He was waiting for Jonathan to pull away, but to his astonished delight, Jonathan stayed in his arms. D'Anvers felt a rush of excitement flood through his entire body, was Jonathan starting to return his feelings? 

Then he realised that Jonathan was looking anxiously over his shoulder at Fredericka, who was now in the tight grip of Lord Silverwood.