Chapter 15

On the evening of the ball, Ralph stood at the bottom of the staircase in the entrance hall, waiting for his mother's arrival. He had spent most of the day locked away with his steward, with the excuse that he was attending to important estate business. Anyway, his mother had made it perfectly clear that she did not require his help.

Ralph was perfectly happy to leave the arrangements for the ball in the capable hands of his mother. She had, after all, been the mistress at Belmont Hall for nearly forty years. And, in that time, she had hosted some of the most extravagant balls in the country. In fact, Lady Huntingdon was famed for her ability to organise a grand ball, and Ralph doubted that tonight would be any different.

Since early that morning, he had seen his servants scurrying around, readying the Hall for tonight. The floor of the ballroom had been highly polished until it shone, and elegant arrangements of fresh flowers had been placed strategically around the room. The room was lit by hundreds of candles that burned brightly in the ornate chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The dining-room had been laid out for a lavish supper that would be served later in the evening, and the adjoining morning room had been converted into a card room. His mother had thought of everything.

She had even suggested to him that the ball would provide him with the perfect opportunity to announce his forthcoming betrothal to Miss Hepworth.

'Ralph,' she had said to him after breakfast that morning. 'It is time you stopped procrastinating and go and speak to Lord Hepworth. He is expecting you to talk to him at some point before the ball.'

Ralph feigned innocence. 'My dear mama,' he had said casually, 'and why would I want to speak to that old bore?'

'You know full well,' she had answered crossly, 'he is expecting you to make an offer for his daughter before the end of the day.'

Ralph had raised his eyebrows at this remark. 'His lordship will be waiting for a long time. I have about as much desire to wed Miss Hepworth as she does to wed me. The poor chit is positively afraid of me and has not said nigh on two words to me all week.'

'Ralph, don't be obstreperous,' his mother had replied testily, 'you are not marrying her for her wit.'

'Please, mama,' Ralph had said with a sigh, 'then why would you want me to marry such a poor creature?'

'To secure the succession, why else?' she had answered irritably. 'She has an excellent bloodline, a substantial dowry, and she will make you the perfect countess.'

'You make her sound like a broodmare,' Ralph had answered shortly.

'Don't be so crude,' she had answered sharply. 'You have to marry her, I promised Lord Hepworth.'

'Madam,' he said dangerously, 'you have no right to make promises about my future on my behalf. I suggest you go and find Lord Hepworth and tell him that there will be no betrothal between our two families.'

'You are just like your father,' his mother had replied as she stamped her foot and prepared for a tantrum.

'Madam,' he said coolly, unmoved by her histrionics, 'I am nothing like my father. Now, go and find Lord Hepworth, and I will not have anything else said about the subject of my marriage.'

Ralph had left his irate mother and had gone to his steward's office. The conversation with her had disturbed his equilibrium. Over the past few days, his mother had not spoken to him about marriage. He had hoped that her silence was an indication that she had seen the folly of her choice. However, after this morning's encounter, Ralph knew that he had to be on his guard. He did not put it past his mother to devise some scheme that would force his hand.

He had tried to give his steward his full attention, but his mind kept wandering back to Helen. After lunch, he had ridden Sampson down to the lake. The memories of the afternoon they had shared came flooding back, as he dismounted Sampson and walked towards where the small rowing boats were moored.

He rowed across the lake, and wistfully remembered the last time he had been there. Helen had been sitting opposite him, looking delightfully dishevelled with her long hair cascading around her shoulders. Since that afternoon, apart from a few highly unsatisfactory stolen kisses, he had not had the opportunity to be intimate with her. Their briefly snatched encounters had left him longing for so much more. She aroused in him a passion he had not felt for a long time. Ever since he was seventeen, he had enjoyed the company of women. However, recently he had become weary of them. Whereas once he would have found their coquetry intriguing, he now found it exceedingly tiresome and artificial.

However, there was nothing artificial about Helen. He had felt her body respond to his touch in a way that cannot be feigned. She had cried out his name when they had made love and had clung onto him in that blissful moment of ecstasy when the world had crashed around them. At that moment, with their bodies joined together as one flesh, he had felt a closeness with her that he had not felt with any other woman. It was more than just a physical encounter. Their souls, the very essence of who they were, had fused together. He loved her, and he did not want to live his life without her.

He had wanted to marry her and never leave her side. He wanted to tie her to him with a vow that could not easily be broken. He wanted to show all the world, including his mother, his deep love for this woman. He did not want to hide her away, as though he was ashamed of who she was. However, she had refused him, and for the first time in his life, he was unable to get what he wanted. He realised that if he truly wanted to be with her, he had to pursue the relationship on her terms. She would have to become his mistress.

He had already set in motion the necessary arrangements. He had written to his solicitor to draw up a contract and to find a suitable establishment for her. He was not going to hide her away. He was going to set her up in style and give her anything she wanted.

'There you are Huntingdon,' a familiarly jovial voice said behind him, bringing him out of his reverie. 'I've been searching for you everywhere.'

'Emley,' Ralph said, with a genuine smile on his lips, 'you look like you could do with a drink.'

'Huntingdon,' Tom said, as he patted Ralph on the back, 'you, my friend, are a mind reader.'

Ralph escorted Tom to the dining-room. Once they had arrived, Ralph signalled to a footman. 'There's only champagne in here at the moment. I don't know about you, Emley, but I could do with a stiff drink. Tonight is going to be a long night. I've sent Timmons to get us something a little stronger.'

The faithful Timmons had soon returned with a silver salver that contained two crystal glasses filled with a generous measure of whisky. Both men took a drink. 'To your good health,' Ralph said, as he raised his glass to Tom. 'I suppose the lovely Lady Emley is still getting ready for the ball,' Ralph said, as he sipped on his whisky.

'Probably,' Tom said, with a chuckle, 'the little minx is up to something. Do you know, Huntingdon, she forbade me entrance to our bedchamber this afternoon. I had to get ready for the ball in a pokey dressingroom.'

'Your man has done a very decent job,' Ralph said, looking at the faultless figure before him.

'Rogers is very resourceful.' Tom said, with pride, 'he's been with me since I joined the army.'

'Why, may I ask, were you banished from your chamber?' Ralph asked curiously.

'That, my good man, is an excellent question, why indeed?' Tom replied, raising his eyebrows. 'I was not party to my lovely wife's confidence. However, I have a suspicion it involves Helen, Mrs Wakefield.'

'Mrs Wakefield?' Ralph replied curiously.

'Yes! My Alice has been up to something for the past five days. She won't tell me anything, apart from it's a surprise.' Tom took another sip of Ralph's excellent whisky. 'I just went past our bedchamber, and my curiosity overcame me. I knocked on the door, and Alice's maid answered. The impertinent girl would not let me past, and all I heard was a good deal of giggling. I was sent on my away.'

They were interrupted by the murmur of conversation in the entrance hall. 'I hear the other guests beginning to congregate in the hall,' Ralph said as he finished his drink, 'we had better go and join them.'

Within half an hour, Ralph and his mother were in the entrance hall, welcoming his guests to the ball. His mother had been coolly polite, but he knew that she was still angry with him. To his chagrin, he had been manoeuvred by his mother to ask Miss Hepworth for the first set. Tonight, more than any other night, he had to be on his guard. A ballroom could be a dangerous place for a single gentleman who was avoiding the parson's mousetrap. He felt, for the first time in his life, like a fox being pursued by a pack of baying hounds. And, his mother was at the forefront of the chase, leading the charge.

There was a hushed silence, and the buzz of conversation briefly stopped as all heads turned towards two ladies who were descending the staircase arm in arm. He immediately recognised the shorter of the two; it was Lady Emley. She looked like an English rose, with her golden blond hair that had been expertly styled into ringlets that framed her pretty face. The beautifully cut cobalt blue silk dress perfectly suited her complexion. However, as stunning as she was, she was eclipsed by the taller beauty standing next to her.

The beauty wore a bronze silk dress that shimmered with gold when she moved. The vibrant colour was the perfect foil for her alabaster skin and luxurious brown mahogany hair. Her hair had been expertly coiled and studded with sea pearls that shimmered in the candlelight. As she walked towards him, her dress clung to her body hinting at the curves he knew so well. She looked magnificent.

As she approached him, with a playful smile on her lips, he became aware that he was staring at her. He, of course, was not alone. Every man in the vicinity was looking at her with admiration.

Ralph sensed his mother's disapproval. 'Ralph, stop staring,' she said in a sharp whisper, 'you are making a spectacle of yourself. If the designing trollop was not accompanied by Lady Emley, I'd...'

Ralph interrupted his mother's diatribe. 'Madam,' he replied in a sharp whisper, 'that will do. She is a guest under my roof, and you will be polite.'

His mother did not reply; however, she did greet Helen, even though her greeting was far from enthusiastic.

After Helen had curtsied, he took her hand and brought her fingers to his lips. He gently kissed her gloved fingers and looked into the amber depths of her eyes. They were bright and shiny with excitement, and for a moment, he was lost in their depths.

Once all the guests had arrived, Ralph was able to join them in the ballroom. The dancing had not yet started, and everyone was standing around in groups talking animatedly to each other. Ralph went from group to group, occasionally asking young ladies to dance. Even though the first set had been claimed by Miss Hepworth, Ralph did not want the other guests to think that he was singling her out for special treatment. There was already enough speculation attached to them, and he did not want to fan the flames of their gossip.

While he was making his way around the room, he was constantly aware of Helen's presence. The unusual colour of her dress and her natural beauty had made her stand out in the sea of people. Eventually, he reached her side. She was standing next to Lady Emley and his friend Tom.

'There you are Huntingdon,' Lady Emley said brightly.

'My lady,' Ralph said as he bowed, 'Mrs Wakefield.'

Again Helen curtsied.

'Do tell me there will be at least one waltz,' Lady Emley had said, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. 'It is, above all, my favourite dance.'

'Yes, I believe there will be two,' Ralph replied, 'The first is scheduled before supper.'

'A supper waltz,' Lady Emley said, with a sigh, looking at her husband, 'how romantic.' She turned to Helen. 'Now, my dear,' she said, looking around her. 'Of course, I will be dancing it with Tom, but I must find you a handsome partner for you to waltz with.'

'You need look no further, my lady,' Ralph said smoothly. He turned to Helen and bowed. 'Mrs Wakefield, would you do me the honour of reserving the waltz.'