Braeden saw the hurt before she averted her eyes, still he did not shift his own cold, brutal eyes away. He wanted to hurt her. He wanted her to know, their laying together had been cheap and insignificant, like the shed she had chosen to gift him with her virtue. Why? Why had she surrendered her innocence to him? It rankled him that though he had hurled that insult at her, the Lady Fallon was no Cyprian, like he had accused. How could she be, if he had been her first lover? Why, had she elected him? It is not like when she always favoured him with pleasant words.
'"Paramour?'" She flinched, repeating the hurtful insult. 'You are neither betrothed nor with wife!'
A cruel sneer filled his face. 'And how would you know, my lady?' His eyes flickered with what might be construed as anger, but it was controlled not allowed to flare to life.
So she was "my lady" again. Could he have offered for another? Who? Why had no mention been made of it in the ton? Then why did he agree to meet her here? Perhaps like he proposed, he planned on keeping a mistress after he wed. So he was like every other rake, then. It was good then that he was marrying another. She would not consent to the gentleman she married keeping a mistress, that would be a prerequisite before they wed.
Fallon was shivering with some strange emotion she did not understand, without another word, she swung her spencer over her shoulders and hastened away from Braeden's presence. She wanted to swear an oath, words that should not have been a part of a gentle lady's lexicon, let alone that she would think to give utterance to such inappropriate words.
She walked with haste, ignoring the muscles that still seemed to throb at her core. Sensitive muscles so appeased, they resisted her command, slowing her progress but Fallon dragged herself forward, blinking furiously at the moisture clouding her eyes.
'My lady,' Louis ran to keep up with her mistress. 'I am sorry, he did not arrive.'
'Oh but he did,' Fallon gritted, not slowing her pace.
'He did?' Louis stopping walking. 'But no carriage arrived.'
Fallon marched on with great speed. She ignored her maid's ramblings about the lateness of the hour or the fact that Fallon would not have much time to prepare for the supper the Fulham's were attending that evening at the home of one of the Patronesses.
Fallon stopped with much effort and looked over her shoulder. 'Do run ahead then,' she instructed. 'Prepare some hot water for me.'
'Yes my lady,' she acknowledged, 'and shall I lay out the peacock blue gown for you?'
Fallon nodded absently. She did not care if her maid draped a cotton sheet over her body
Fallon sat at the window and stared out into the distance. She had returned home, ignored her mother's courteous enquiry on how her afternoon walk had been. Louis had washed out her hair and brushed it, keeping it opened tonight. Fallon had not dressed yet, refusing Louis' help to assist her into her evening gown. She was still only wearing her under garments.
'My lady you are going to be late,' Louis spoke patiently. The baroness will be most displeased,' she cautioned. 'You know she does not like arriving late at any function.
'Tell my mother, I am not joining them tonight.'
'My lady! The baroness will have strong words for you ___ and I. Please, I beseech you to re-consider. Whatever is the matter? Please, let us put your gown on.'
'Do as I say, Louis,' Fallon instructed in her quiet, rebellious tone.
The maid, bowed and set foot out of Lady Fallon's chamber. She knew from the determined look on her mistress's eyes, that her mind was made up.
'Fallon!' The baroness barged into her daughter's room, followed nervously by Louis. 'What is the meaning of this? You know it is impolite for you not to attend with us.'
'I feel under the weather, mother,' Fallon was under her coverlets. 'I shall not be joining you.'
'Whatever is the matter dear?' The baroness rushed to the bed and sat down. She placed the inside of her palm on Fallon's forehead. 'You do feel a bit warm, Fallon,' her eyes were concerned as she lifted the coverlets around her daughter.
'I just do not feel too good tonight, mother.'
'I shall ask cook to send up some soup for you, after we have departed,' the baroness spoke gently.
'I just want to rest now,' Fallon closed her eyes.
The baroness stood up. She looked at Louis, who nervously shifted her eyes about guiltily.
'What did Lady Fallon do today?' She questioned. 'Where has she been this afternoon?'
'We just walked through the public gardens baroness, and we came back the same way,' Louis lied.
Fallon turned her head away from her mother. A soft smiled briefly etched her face. Louis is such a consummate liar. Sweet little thing that she is.
'I shall leave my daughter in your care,' she nodded. 'Do ensure she tries to have some nourishment later,' the baroness departed.
'"You feel a bit warm?'" Louis probed an accusing finger at her charge.
Fallon giggled softly. 'I sat close to the fire, before I climbed under the covers,' she whispered conspirationally.
Louis shook her head affectionately. 'Why did you not want to go out, my lady?'
Fallon's eyes became sad. Truth was, she knew Braeden was going to be there at the patroness's ball. She was not ready to see his forbidding eyes again. He may look and dress like a dandy Corinthian, but he was an arrogant, hurtful rake. She was still bruised by his earlier invectives. How could she look him in the face again and attempt any polite conversations. It was too soon. She needed time to heal.
'Perhaps you could meet him at the ball tonight,' Louis suggested.
'I beg your pardon?'
'I know he did not arrive this afternoon.' Louis smiled patronizingly. It is not too late. You can still be ready on time, to attend with the baron and baroness. Perhaps you may see him tonight,' Louis whispered.
Fallon sighed heavily. 'Do leave me now please Louis. I wish to rest,' Fallon turned towards the wall, effectively dismissing her maid.
'Very well, my lady, Louis spoke with some disappointment. 'I shall return later with your supper.'
'Fallon?' Emma smiled at her younger sister and sat down next to her. 'I came to your chamber last night you were asleep. Do you feel better this morning?'
They were in the garden. Fallon was reading a book she loaned from the lending library. Or she was trying to read with little success, because a certain rake's face kept intruding on each page. His remembered fingers all over her body made her tingle with excitement. His lips over hers had her swooning for more of his roguish attention. How she wished she could forget him, but she could not. How she wished she could wipe away the fantastic pleasure he had given her, but her body refused to yield to her lack luster command. What was she going to do? She could not stop thinking about him. She had spent almost the entire night, reliving their sweet moments in the barn. That barn had become precious to her, more than she wanted it to be.
There was a lovely morning scent from the colourful flowers in the Fulham gardens. Fallon leaned back in the wicker basket chair and smiled at her sister affectionately.
'I feel much better thank you.'
'Mama said you had a temperature and that you looked pale.'
'So how was the ball?'
'It was lovely, she smiled. 'Everybody was there and so many gentlemen enquired about you. Strangely, Lord Hampton was also conspicuous by his absence.'
'He was? I mean I do not care,' she added red faced.
Emma frowned curiously. 'Whatever has the earl done to you Fallon? Why do you despise him so? He really is a kind gentleman with impeccable manners.
Fallon made a very unladylike sound. '"Gentleman?" I do doubt that, thought I will concede he has good manners.'
And what of her, a lady of rank, being deflowered by that very gentleman in question and in a very undignified horse's stable?
'Clearly you feel much better,' Emma stood up. 'You are back to your charming self,' she teased her younger sister.
Fallon herself stood up and offered her sister a courteous smile. 'I am having tea with father,' she announced.
Emma raised her eyebrows again. Fallon only ever had tea with their father when she had done something wrong or when she required a private audience to weasel her way out of trouble and as usual, their father, always fell for Fallon's theatrics.
'Papa,' Fallon smiled as she walked into her father's library.
'Hello dear. What have you done this time?' He smiled affectionately.
Fallon could not hide the scarlet mark rising on her cheeks. 'Papa, why do you always think the worst of me?'
Her father laughed. 'I know my horseflesh pretty well, but after nineteen summers, I know my last born so much more. So tell me dear,' he patted the sofa he was sitting on.
'Shall I pour?' She offered him tea.
'Thank you,' he nodded, helping himself to a raisin cake.
'Papa,' Fallon began, as she handed the cup of tea to her father, 'I do not wish any longer to wed.'
The baron's face became serious. He studied his younger daughter with some concern. 'You are still young dear. You could have two or three more seasons. There is still time to find a suitor.'
Fallon shook her head defiantly. 'No papa. I have made up my mind. I do not wish to receive any more offers or go on the marriage mart any longer.'
'Have you spoken to your mama?'
'No. You tell her,' Fallon pleaded to her parent.
The baron rose to his feet. He walked to the fireplace and stood there staring into the flames. 'Fallon,' he turned around. 'I shall not heed to that request. You will have another season and next year you shall decide on a suitor'.
'I shall not change my mind papa,' Fallon rose angrily.
'Her father pursed his lips. 'You will make a good marriage. I insist on it. You are only nineteen summers. You can have two or three more seasons,' he smiled encouragingly.
She regarded her hands. 'I do not think there is any gentleman, I wish to wed,' she refuted. He was a charlatan, not a gentleman, no matter how exciting a lover he was. They had no future, especially as he was reluctant to take any lady to wife.
During luncheon, Emma informed Fallon of the invitation from Lady Carissa to go riding, the following day. They would be a party of six. It seemed Fallon had been opportunely paired off with Sir Neels Orway. Not that it concerned Fallon. Sir Neels was young, companionable and she knew he was not looking at the prospects on the marriage mart just yet. He was still young and wanted a few more summers of care free living. She made a face as if the idea of riding was most unappealing. Perhaps if she had been partnered with a certain arrogant swine, it may have held appeal.
'Or we can stay home and play cards?' Emma baited.
'Do not be so stuffy, Emma.'
Emma laughed. 'Now you are being silly. It just seemed like you was not in favour of going riding.'
'I shall look forward to it. You know I much prefer to be out enjoying the sun and fresh air, than locked indoors.'
'It is what I thought, when I accepted Carissa's invitation, on behalf of you and I,' Emma smiled as if she had done some mischievous deed.
The six riders had set off just after breakfast. They skirted the town and went trotting through the woods. Chickens scurried out of harm's ways. Birds defiantly waited until the last moment pecking on crumbs and seeds before taking flight.
Fallon was trotting on her mare alongside Carissa. Emma was a few feet ahead, on a docile mare delightfully enjoying Burward's company. Fallon could hear her elder sister's soft laughter at something Burward was narrating. Sir Neels Orway and the Marquis of Dunbar, Drew Frewer were just ahead of Fallon and Carissa.
'He sits well on a horse, does he not?' Carissa spoke softly, studying the man on horseback just in front of her.
Fallon followed her friend's eyes and saw it was covetously trained on Drew Fewer, the Marquis of Dunbar. Fallon begged to differ. Not as well as a certain rake.
Dunbar was on a spirited big bay. The gentlemen had set of laughing at a gentle trot. The marquis skillfully urged their pace to a canter.
'Indeed, Sir Neels is an extremely good horseman for one so young.'
Carissa's jaw dropped. 'You know I was talking about the marquis,' she whispered.
Fallon's mare was snorting and stamping impatiently, bored with the slow canting. In the open, Fallon's mare wanted free reign. Clearly she was often given her head and was hankering for a sprint.
'Do I?' Fallon shrugged teasingly.
'Whatever is the matter with you?' Carissa laughed softly. 'This last week you are certainly grumpy.'
'Am I?' Fallon laughed. 'I do beg your pardon. I was unaware what grumpy looked or sounded like.'
'He looks very much like you,' Carissa smiled 'and he is opinionated as you are.'
'Neels!' Fallon shouted. 'Race you to the lake,' she challenged and sprinted ahead, before Neels could respond to her challenge and he loved to win, but doubted he could better Fallon. She was about the finest horsewoman he knew.
'Was the kind Lady Fallon creating an opening for me?' Dunbar grinned at Carissa.
'Do not know if she is kind, nor do I know why you would need such an opening, my lord?' She smiled happily.
'My company is unwelcome then?' He offered a wounded look. 'I am most disappointed.'
Carissa laughed. 'The lake is not too far if you wish to go fishing, my lord.'
Dunbar threw his head back and roared heartily. 'Perhaps I should have accepted my friend Hampton's invitation to go hunting.'
'I am delighted you did not,' Carissa looked at her marquis shyly.
Dunbar drew his bay closer to Carissa. 'Let us entice the others to rest here under the trees, shall we?'
Carissa nodded. They had been riding a while. In any event, Fallon and Neels had already dismounted. The lady Fallon had again beaten Neels in an unfair competition.
'Mama, I really am not in the mood for Almack's,' Fallon complained. 'Why do I have to attend, when I do not desire to do so?'
'Would you like to inform your papa of your decision?' The Baroness Fulham, Lady Sophia Brightmore threatened her younger daughter.
Fallon's cheeks turned pink. She knew very well she could not dare present any arguments to the baron. He would right take a cane to her backside. 'I do not see how you could force me against my will,' Fallon stamped her feet provokingly.
'Fallon,' Emma pleaded gently, taking her arm. 'You can use my new hat. It will look beautiful with your new velvet gown.'
Fallon glared at her sister. She heaved a huge breath and stormed off with Emma in tow.
'You love dancing,' Emma spoke kindly. 'Why do you not want to attend at Almack's?' She helped Fallon with her evening gown.
'I am tired,' Fallon lied. 'I just want to stay home and rest.'
'I shall ask papa to leave early,' Emma offered. 'I shall say I have a migraine.'
'Oh Em, you are the best sister,' Fallon hugged her.
It was not for nothing that Fallon had thrown her rebellious tantrum. She knew Braeden would be here tonight. She was not ready to do battle with him. His parting words still hurt Fallon like an open wound. She could not face him; not so soon. If he danced with her what would they talk about? She could not endure it if Braeden would hurl more insults at her. She had thought she was a strong lass, but that rogue of an earl just knew how to use every opportunity to insult her. She did not want to look into his taciturn grey eyes. She did not want to be in his unwelcoming arms and if he was here, he was duty bound to dance with her at least once for appearances sake. If he did not, somebody was bound to question why he was being ungentlemanly and Braeden would not invite any questions to his honour.
Fallon knew exactly when Braeden had entered the ballroom. She was in Dunbar's arms, dancing with Carissa's marquis, when every nerve in her body sensed his presence. Instinctively her body stiffened, responding in a protective manner.
'Lady Fallon, are you cold?' Dunbar laughed softly. 'I would offer to take you on the balcony, but it is much warmer inside here.'
'And I do know,' she smiled, 'it is not I you would want as companion on the balcony.'
'Why ever would you say such a damning thing?' He touched his palm to his heart soberly.
Fallon laughed, at the corner of her eye, she saw Braeden was dancing with Emma. She did not have to look directly at him to know, he was cut in splendid cloth. His long tailed coat fit immaculately on his broad shoulders. He looks so dash and debonair...
'When are you going to offer for your lady love? Your hairline is receding you know.'
'Why? I do believe you are insulting me, Lady Fallon. I should call you out for that.'
She laughed again. 'I am serious, Lord Dunbar.' She knew her friend was besotted with Dunbar, but it was hardly her place to expose her friend.
'I will. I will.'
She caught his chest heaving. His eyes became serious as he looked across at Lady Carissa dancing with one of the popular young gentlemen of the ton. They were laughing and dancing companionably. Carissa moved gracefully in the young gentleman's arms.
'Will she have me?' Dunbar whispered. 'I am not wealthy as Hampton, nor have I his enviable assets. He has many houses, country estates, the finest hunting lodges.'
It was Fallon's turn to hold her breath. 'Not every girl measures a gentleman's wealth.'
Dunbar smiled. 'I know you hold no such mercenary conditions. You would live in a barn, if a gentleman just offered you a set of healthy stallions, it would suffice,' he laughed.
Fallon stilled, as if she had been struck. She did not know she had stopped dancing. Dunbar sensed he had said the wrong thing.
'Lady Fallon. I am sorry. I meant no harm.'
'Excuse me__.' She meant to escape.
'Lady Fallon please. If you walk away in the middle of the dance, one of the patronesses would come after me, thinking I have been a dishonourable gentleman.'
Fallon nodded. She continued dancing. Unfortunately for her, Braeden just happened to look their way and observed their whisperings. He could not have heard their conversation above the music, but Fallon was certain Braeden had read her body language. From the accusing look in his cold eyes she guessed he thought she had been flirting with Dunbar and Braeden's disapproving look portrayed total disgust at her.
'I am truly sorry, if I have been offensive, Lady Fallon.'
'There is nothing for you to apologize about,' Fallon offered a smile.
The music stopped. Dunbar courteously walked her back to where her parents were seated. Fallon had observed, Braeden had already taken Emma back. He was now striding out to the cards room. Fallon was pleased she did not have a partner for the next waltz. In fact she had purposefully kept her card blank...just in case. So would he not want to dance with her tonight then? She yearned to go out into the gardens, but what if Braeden found her alone? Would he speak cruelly to her for being outside unescourted? Worse, what if some sporting gentleman should happen upon her and try his luck, she could just imagine, his cruel attack then.
Fallon was at sixes and sevens throughout the night. She endured it painfully, accepting dance offers from every other gentleman that requested her as a partner. She saw Braeden return to the ballroom, but deliberately, whilst she was on the floor, he chose to dance with another. He danced a waltz with Carissa and with Emma, but he never ventured anywhere near her. Fallon desperately wished the night would come to an end. She wanted to remind Emma of her pledge to plead a migraine, but her sister was having such a jolly time, Fallon was reluctant to drag her sister home, so she suffered in cruel, agonizing silence, until her papa deemed it had been a successful enough night and they could go home.
Fallon did not know the heart could be subjected to such torture. How she wished her laying with Braeden could be undone, just so she could have his respect again, but then again, there was nothing in the world she would trade for the passionate encounter she had exchanged with him. Infact she could almost guarantee if the opportunity arose again, she would whole heartedly consent to laying with the devil's spawn one more time. How stupid was that?
-end chapter eight-