JAMES NURSED HIS drink as he sat in the corner and watched the entrance of White's. He was sure that Westmorland would make an appearance tonight. There was nothing the gentlemen liked more than displaying their power and wealth by spending time at White's—the most exclusive club in all of London.
Taking a sip of his drink, he nodded toward Wellington as their gazes met. The duke raised his glass and James did the same. There was no need for words to be exchanged, he knew the duke's gesture signified respect.
"What are you doing drinking alone?" Headfort interrupted as he took a seat in the empty chair beside him.
James sighed at his friend, "I was waiting for someone."
"Well, wait no longer. I left Berkeley at one of the tables after he defeated me quite soundly. I think its high time you put him in his place."
James flickered an invisible piece of lint from his dark brown tailcoat. "Henry, I am not a dog, eager to do your bidding."
Headfort ran his fingers through his red hair. "Christ James, I don't know what's gotten you in such a terrible mood, but it seems to me that it's imperative that you join the game and shake off your solemn thoughts."
James still did not get up and instead took a long swing of his drink, allowing the liquid to burn his throat.
"Defeating Cedric will make you feel better," Headfort bribed.
James sighed and placed his glass back down onto the table, his friend knew him well, "fine, lead the way."
He didn't miss the triumphed grin on Henry's face as the Marquess led him to the back of the club. Sure enough, Cedric was seated alone, lazily shuffling the cards and speaking quietly to the dealer at the table.
James took his seat, nodding at the two men.
"I see that Henry was able to convince you to join us after all."
"He was in quite the foul mood," Henry said, taking the seat on the left. "Vingt-et-un?" he asked.
James and Cedric both nodded and the dealer handed them their cards, but before James could pick up his, Cedric placed his hands onto them. His blue eyes glowed in the dark, "What happened?"
James tugged on his cards, swatting away Cedric's fingers. His friend didn't relent though, and the blue eyes haunted him from across the table. He sighed; he didn't know why he thought to keep the information to himself. If there was anyone who could read him, it was his great-aunt and Cedric.
He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I found out that my father's death was not an accident."
"For fuck's sake James, you cannot just state something like that without providing more information."
Quickly, James explained everything else that had happened and how he had received the information.
"Ah, so you were waiting for the Earl of Westmoreland," Cedric stated with a knowing glance.
James nodded, "He has yet to appear, but I have plenty of questions."
He flipped his cards over and they began the game. The three of them were silent as they flew through the rounds. James won a couple, as did the dealer, but it was Berkeley who walked away with the most rounds won.
"I'm out," Headfort said throwing his cards across the table. "Absolute terrible luck tonight."
Berkeley snorted, "Isn't that what you say every time we play cards?"
James ignored their bickering, and his gaze scanned the room. A gentleman walking with a limp called to his attention. He was speaking with a few older lords, some who James recognized from their vigorous debates in the House of Lords. James was certain that this was the Earl of Westmoreland.
"-decided to go to Almack's."
James' gaze swung from the gentlemen back to Headfort, and he hurriedly fumbled to pull out his pocket watch.
"What time does the first waltz start at Almack's?"
"Why on earth would I know that?" Headfort asked him bewilderment, "Nobody goes to Almack's unless they are on the market hunting for a lady to marry and sire heirs."
The pit in James' stomach grew as Berkeley answered his question, "The doors to Almack's close at eleven."
James glanced at his pocket watch as the handle at half past ten seemed to mock him.
"I have to go," James stood up and began walking towards the door.
His friends followed and Henry looked at him as if he was mad, "You can't leave right now James. I just saw Westmorland in the corner."
"That will have to wait."
He didn't bother explaining why and merely moved around the busy place. He exited the establishment, eyes scanning for a hackney.
"James!" Henry said in astonishment. "What is this rush? I thought you were waiting the entire night to speak to Westmoreland."
James turned to his close friends, "I promised my aunt that I would be there for Lady Vivienne's first dance of the night."
"Bloody hell," Headfort said as his skin paled a few shades, "I don't know why on earth's name you would make such a promise, but you must get to Almack's before the doors close. I can almost imagine your aunt breaking down the doors of White's to look for you if you don't."
James ignored his friend; he did not need the reminder. Duke or not, Aunt Esme would skewer him. She had repeatedly told him to arrive at Almack's on time, but his mind had been preoccupied with Westmoreland.
The hackney stopped and he stepped in, surprised to find Berkeley joining him as well. When James raised an eyebrow, the Viscount shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't want to leave you alone with the ladies."
James had an inkling that Cedric was willing to attend for one particular lady, but he didn't put his friend on blast in front of Headfort.
Headfort groaned, "If the two of you are leaving, does this mean that I must join as well?"
Berkeley shook his head, "You cannot join us, Henry. The rules of Almack's are clear, anyone wearing anything, but a white cravat will not be allowed in."
"Sod off," Headfort said as he glanced at his brown cravat. "That can't possibly be true."
"It is," Berkeley insisted. "The Duke of Wellington himself was not given admission when he was wearing black trousers instead of knee-breeches."
Headfort's scowl said it all, but he leapt off the hackney and tipped his hat. "Well then, I bid you good evening. I shall remain at White's. Both of you, do keep an eye on my sister."
James nodded at his friend. He ventured a brief glance at Berkeley who looked uneasy at Headfort's request. Before Cedric could say anything else, James gestured to the driver to start the hackney and they were off into the night. He glanced out the window quietly, still worried that he was not going arrive at Almack's in time for the first dance. James did not want to disappoint his aunt, but mostly, he didn't want to disappoint Vivienne.
***
James entered the Almack's assembly room with Berkeley by his side. They had narrowly made it, just before Mr. Willis had been ready to shut the doors. His eyes immediately scanned the room, searching for Vivienne and ignoring the other patrons. He saw that the couples were lining up on the ballroom floor but for the life of him, he could not spot Vivienne.
"James," his aunt's voice filled his ear.
He turned to the right to see Aunt Esme walking towards him quite briskly with her cane dragging across the floor. She gripped his arm tightly, fingers digging in. "Where have you been? The first dance is about to begin," she scolded him.
"I got caught up with some business," James replied smoothly. He was not ready to tell his aunt that he had been playing cards with his friends.
Aunt Esme's eyes narrowed, and she glanced at Berkeley beside him who was trying his best to stay still. "I was not born yesterday. So, help me God if you miss the first dance because you were at some club."
"I won't if you tell me where she is!" James insisted, with a hint of impatience lining his voice. He glanced at the quartet and the conductor in front of them. The musicians were posed, ready to play the first note.
His aunt looked at him for a second longer before her gloved fingers pointed to a couple of ladies at the edge of the dance floor. He recognized the red hair as Fiona's, so the golden-haired lady must have been Vivienne.
Indeed, as she turned slightly and her face came into view, James felt his heart stop for a moment. She looked quite different from the Vivienne he was used to seeing around the manor and townhouse. Her golden curls were piled up in a fancy updo, shining in the light. The turquoise dress she was wearing cinched at the waist before falling in graceful layers to the bottom. Small golden details shimmered on the dress, reminding James of the stars he sometimes saw at Chalcott manor. She looked the part of a beautiful lady, ready to take London by storm.
He was interrupted by an elbow from his friend. "If you keep looking at her like that instead of asking her for a dance, there will be quite some trouble."
James swallowed and he walked towards her, almost in a trance.
"—If he doesn't show up, I can always ask another gentleman to step in." Fiona said, as she laid a comforting hand on Vivienne's shoulders.
James clenched his hands. He wasn't going to let some other gentlemen take up the dance he had promised to Vivienne. He reached them both and softly tapped her on the shoulder. Vivienne swung around and gasped.
Up close, he saw that the dress had a lower neckline then he was used to seeing upon her. Vivienne's bosom filled his gaze and he glanced at the golden necklace that lay between them, different from the emerald one she normally wore. Remembering that he had been silent for quite sometime, he bowed and took her gloved hand gently before kissing it. He swore that her hand trembled in his grasp.
"Lady Vivienne," he said, his voice a deeper tone than usual. "Would you do me the honour of this first dance?"
Her green eyes which seemed to glow almost golden rested on his face before giving him a regal nod. He took her by the waist and led her to the dance floor just as the first note began. They clasped hands and he pulled her closer as he led her into the waltz. Their eyes met, and he could see the worry in them.
He tightened his hold, "Do not worry Vivienne, I will not let you falter."
James felt ever curve of her body as he began leading her into the waltz. He didn't know what it was, but their eyes never left each other. It was as if the rest of the lords and ladies around them were insignificant. In this moment, he viewed her in a different light then before. She was no longer the shy wallflower, but a blossoming flower ready for the London spotlight. He could see her holding her breath as the glided across the floor.
"Breathe, you are doing well."
She nodded, but it was barely there. "Everyone is looking at us."
"Ignored them, and focus on me," James said softly. He drank in her scent discreetly, the pleasant jasmine and honey fragrance soothing him.
Vivienne's gaze returned to his, "I almost thought you weren't going to come," she admitted.
He faltered for a moment, and they almost crashed into the couple next to them, but James managed to lead them away at the last moment. "I made a promise and I intended to keep it. I am not one to go back on my word."
Her green eyes twinkled in the light and crinkled lightly as she smiled slightly, "No, I didn't believe that you were."
The smile warmed his heart, something James did not want to admit. But then, her gaze drifted off across his shoulders and he missed the contact between them. He shook his head slightly; he was acting in a very uncharacteristic way tonight. He needed to squash whatever attraction he was beginning to form towards Vivienne. If he was honest with himself, he knew it had been growing between them for weeks now. She might have been naïve enough not to understand it, but he was not.
James remembered his aunt's warning from the first day she laid eyes upon Vivienne. If he was not going to marry her—which he was not, then he needed to stay away. He had provided her a bountiful dowry and James was sure that anytime now, one of the younger gentlemen would come and sweep her away. It was for the best anyways; he still had a fiancé he needed to find.
"Oh," Vivienne said softly, drawing his mind away from the thoughts he was having.
"What happened?"
She tilted her chin towards the right, "Lord Berkeley and Fiona are speaking once more."
James glanced to where she was pointing and indeed Cedric and Fiona were standing quite stiffly. It seemed like his friend was trying to plead his case, but Fiona was not listening. James knew this was one of the few chances Cedric would get alone with Fiona without Henry hoovering over them. He almost snorted, Headfort would undoubtedly make things even more complicated between the two of them.
He shifted his body away from the two in the corner and turned his gaze back to Vivienne. He led her across the dance floor, ignoring the looks from the other couples around them. James did not attend most balls so he could see why the ton was so curious—but he would not be providing any answers to their lingering questions.
When the music ended, they came to a standstill. They stood silently across from one another. James could see Vivienne's bosom heaving as she took deep breaths to settle her nerves. James made his way up her face and he could see the excitement and hope lighting her face. There was something else in her eyes as well—and it clenched at his heart.
He needed to take a breath; he couldn't be here in the ballroom with her. James knew like any debutante, her expectations of what to expect might be tainted. He also did not want to scare away any of her potential suitors with his presence.
James bowed, "Thank you for a splendid dance, Lady Vivienne. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
He watched as her elated face fell a bit at his words, but she managed to plaster a smile in the last moment, curtsying elegantly. "Have a wonderful evening, Your Grace."
James nodded and left her, making sure not to glance behind him. He didn't want to see the confusion and hurt at his abrupt departure, but he needed to give her the chance to meet other blokes. It sure as hell would not be happening in his presence. He nearly made it to the exit when a familiar face filled his gaze.
"Your Grace."
"Lady Cobham," James said stiffly. This was the last place he wanted to be, but he also saw Lady Jersey itching closer and glancing at the two of them conversing. If he wanted to avoid the gossip columns, he needed to tread extremely carefully here.
"It used to be Madeleine once," she said softly waving her fan.
"Yes, that was when you were my intended. I don't believe Lord Cobham would be overzealous seeing you conversing with me now."
Madeleine ignored the slight goad. "I would not have expected you to be at Almack's of all places."
"I aim to surprise," James said dryly.
Madeleine was still blocking his path, irking James even more. He could not believe that this was the lady whom he had been about to marry last year. He had not loved her, but he had cared for her enough to provide her with everything she wanted—except passion apparently. Madeline had jilted him for Lord Cobham, whom she loved but her parents would not accept the marriage. After stumbling upon them in a passionate embrace at Lady Jersey's ball, James had ended the betrothal. He was unwilling to be the third person in a marriage, so he'd set her free.
"What exactly is your connection with Lady Vivienne?" Madeleine asked innocently.
"It is none of your damn business," James said abruptly, stepping to the side to avoid her but then paused and turned. "Although now that we are on this subject, it was extremely cruel of you to invite Vivienne to tea, only to rescind the offer."
Madeleine's skin deepened with a red tinge. "I did no such thing; the invitation must have been misplaced by one of your servants."
James scoffed, tugging on his waistcoat impatiently. "I wasn't born yesterday, Lady Cobham. Blaming my competent servants won't get you out of this mess. You have what you wanted in life an to be cruel to someone else is frankly something I would have thought beneath you."
Before she could respond, James had turned away and exited the ballroom. He sighed, tonight had been more eventful that he would have liked—in more ways than one.
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Well that was a close call for James. What do you think of the dance between Vivienne and James? James' conversation with Lady Cobham?