The Wallflower’s Wild Wedding (The Wallflower Wins Book 3) Page 6

  He often wondered if someone had taken his side, would he have turned out to be a very different man? Certainly, he would not wake up in the middle of the night screaming with dreams of horror, full of memories of men dead on battlefields, their bodies barely recognizable.

  If someone had simply allowed him to be the boyish young man who loved to speak of midsummer night dreams, and magic, and love, and potions. Of songs of love. If he could have done that instead, would he have needed to turn to night after night of women who he barely knew, or brandy, or debauchery? He’d never allowed himself to be still for a moment too long, lest he remember the scorched scent of powder and the screams of men dying, crying out for their mothers.

  And his mother? She’d been utterly broken. He did not even know if she’d allowed herself dreams.

  He poured another brandy and dashed back the liquid, desperate to quell the pain.

  Eloise would never throw her life away as he had done. He would make sure of that, if it was the last thing he did.

  Chapter 9

  “There you go, madam,” the lady’s maid chirped happily. “You look quite the treat, you do. I think I’ve outdone myself.”

  Eloise could not deny it.

  Jennings, a pert young thing herself with bright blue eyes and chestnut hair, had indeed outdone herself.

  Eloise stared into the full-length, polished mirror and could not believe that she was looking at herself.

  Night had long ago fallen, and the gentle glow of candlelight bathed her in a flattering hue. But that was not it. She’d often been bathed in the gentle glow of candles. This was something altogether more.

  Eloise’s hair was a study in art.

  The coiffure had been done in curls that were lush and full and utterly romantic. Diamond hearts had been studded through her locks, intertwined with blue silk ribbons and golden feathers.

  Coils of her blonde locks tumbled over one of her shoulders, touching her clavicle, caressing the tops of her extremely exposed breasts. The rest tumbled down her back in an artfully tied ribbon.

  Her entire body had been dusted with a light powder, making her appear as if her skin was shimmering ever so slightly.

  Red touched her perfectly shaped lips and her cheeks had been pinkened. Soot slightly darkened her lashes and her brows.

  She knew that she looked like a scandalous woman was supposed to, and yet she could not deny that she also looked positively remarkable.

  Her gown was a thing of utter fantasy and dream.

  The blue silk looked as if it had been copied straight off a Grecian vase. The ribbon wrapped just underneath her breasts seemed to plump up her breasts to a perfect degree.

  Really, the only part of her breasts that did seem to be covered was her nipples. Her shoulders, too, were barely covered in slight straps of the most sheer fabric.

  The folds of her skirt skimmed over her legs, and only the thinnest chemise underneath lent her a touch of mystery. She looked almost, she dared admit, nude.

  She felt nude, and it was absolutely glorious. She’d never worn so little yet been arranged to look so artful in her whole life.

  Everything about her felt luxurious, from the silk of her gown to the silk of her stockings to the way her gloves clung to her arms.

  Sapphires danced along her throat and dropped from her ears in the most tantalizing way.

  She couldn’t swallow as she stared at herself. All her life she’d been told she was plain.

  The woman staring back at her was most certainly not plain.

  Could that truly be her?

  Eloise turned to Jennings and beamed. She was afraid she might tear up at the wonder of it. “You are a miracle worker.”

  Jennings blushed with pride, her own chestnut hair dancing with golden flecks in the candlelight.

  “Thank you, miss. I am an artist for transforming those who go upon the stage,” she explained. “And I was most grateful that the Earl of Hollybrook wished me in his employ to assist you. I shall continue to ensure that your look is remarkable and nothing like how you walked into this room to begin with. My goodness! Whoever would have thought that you were hidden in all that frumpery, miss?”

  Eloise groaned. “It is your artistry that has made me look so, well, wonderful.”

  And she did look wonderful. She knew it. She would never look beautiful, but she certainly did look striking. She looked, in her opinion, like an opera singer was supposed to, as if she had just stepped down from a painting.

  She reminded herself just ever so slightly of the famous Emma Hamilton, which was astonishing.

  But Emma Hamilton was reported to be quite a beauty.

  After all, she had been the beauty that had stolen the affections of Admiral Nelson and caused quite a scandal.

  Jennings leaned forward and gestured towards the door. “I think that his lordship is waiting for you downstairs to take you to a party, so you must go.”

  “A party?” she gasped.

  “Now don’t you fear, miss,” Jennings said brightly. “I hear that you’re going to be a singer and that the earl has taken you into his care. He’s a very kind man, and he shall ensure that you are well looked after. Now, you just trust him and enjoy yourself, and don’t think twice about it, for there shan’t be another lady in the room that looks as good as you do. I am very proud of my work.”

  “Thank you, Jennings,” she said, beaming. “I shan’t doubt it for a moment,” she declared, even though she did.

  But with that, she picked up her gold-embroidered, blue silk shawl and swept out of the room and into the hall.

  She straightened her shoulders, which of course only made her breasts more plump, and walked down the corridor.

  Her skirt floated about her legs, skimming her thighs. It was so sinful. No wonder young ladies of the ton were required to dress with more decorum. It felt as if someone was caressing her with every move she made.

  Wives? Wives, on the other hand, did dress as she was now. And she wondered at it. Was it as the earl said? Wives could often be free after an heir and spare.

  She reached the top of the stairs, and much to her amazement, she spotted Hollybrook waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase. His elegant black and white evening attire clung to his masculine body.

  His clothes were the height of fashion. Simple. Expensive. Perfectly tailored to show off his prowess.

  He appeared to like some of Beau Brummell’s fashion. His clothes were taut, the cut of his coat black, his white linen shirt ever so slightly embroidered with gold, but his cravat was a beautiful brocade crimson, and a diamond winked in the center of it on a stick pin.

  He was not entirely austere, it seemed, as Brummel’s crowd was.

  He gazed up at her, and his brows lifted. That gold embroidered into his shirt points was the same gold which danced in his whiskey-hued hair and brandy eyes.

  Hollybrook was a walking intoxication.

  Almost all women in his company would be enthralled by him, she did not doubt. She felt herself close to swooning, but she would not allow such silliness. She would not join the hordes of other women who fell at his feet.

  Oh no, not she, even if she did wish to know the mystery of what made him so appealing.

  Instead, she walked down the stairs as confidently as she possibly could. “I am ready.”

  “Indeed, you are,” he said, his eyes widening. “I am most amazed. You look like perfection. Jennings did a very good job.”

  “Of course, she did,” Eloise said brightly. “A veritable worker of miracles, that young woman.”

  He smiled that slow smile of his. “But she would not have been able to do it if there had been nothing to find.”

  “Ha!” she retorted, refusing to be drawn in by false compliments.

  His eyes narrowed slightly, and he lifted his gloved hand to tuck back an errant curl. “Do not start discounting yourself now, Eloise.”

  She swallowed. Stunned that he was insisting that she accept his comp
liment. “All right.”

  “Think of yourself as a performer,” he urged, his body angling towards hers. “Performers are constantly remaking themselves from character to character, and now you are about to embody a new character, a character of absolute confidence, someone who can take London by storm. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Of course, I do,” she said, even as she felt herself shaking inwardly. It was all she wanted and here was the moment. It was terrifying and magnificent. “I am going to be the most fascinating woman in London, someone who is completely the opposite of myself.”

  “Oh Eloise,” he all but purred. “Perhaps you just need to free the real you, for you are as bold as any young lady as I’ve ever met.”

  She smiled at that. At the idea of freeing her true self. “Thank you. That is a kind thing to say.”

  “It is not kind,” he challenged. “It is accurate. Most of London would not knock down my door at a house party to ask me to make them into an opera singer.”

  She laughed. “I suppose not.”

  “Now, let us go and introduce you to the right people.”

  She nodded but could not quite fight a wave of fear. “Do you think that people will not recognize me?”

  He eyed her up and down. “Not a chance,” he assured. “And I think you already know that most people will not have noticed Eloise Edgington at all. And if they did, they will have forgotten you. I loathe to admit it, but even I did not notice you. It is only because of the boldness with which you treated me that you made an impression on me. I doubt that you were like that with many people.”

  “No,” she agreed, drawing in a fortifying breath. “I did not allow myself to be, for I knew it was not permitted.”

  “It will only make this easier,” he said gently. “You shall not need to be concerned at all.” He offered her his arm. “Come then. Let us go.”

  She smiled, willing herself to be fearless like her friends were being on each of their adventures. She hoped they were all well. All pursing their dreams.

  Eloise took Hollybrook’s arm, her fingers tingling at the very touch of him. She was ready. She was ready to do this.

  “Now,” he warned, “do not think of conversing too much, for you shall not know how to converse like a bawdy young lady of the stage. Tonight is for something else. You will observe, and you will decide if this world is what you truly wish to belong in. And if you find it is a world, in the end, that you do not wish, there’ll be no shame in changing your mind.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for saying that, but I shan’t change my mind. I promise you that.”

  “We shall see,” he said.

  She understood why he was offering this, but he had not known the bone-shattering loneliness of the life she had lived for years.

  And she was shocked to find that she was so very glad that it was going to be, at least for now, with him.

  Chapter 10

  The party was not at all like other parties that she had been to.

  Party was a word that she’d apparently misunderstood before. This was a wild, laughing, wine drinking, music playing, dancing, and merrymaking event in a town house that was full of the most beautiful paintings and sculptures she’d ever seen.

  Packed with brightly dressed people of the demimonde, Eloise could barely stop staring at the famous actors, actresses, poets, and scandalous aristocrats going from room to room.

  Frankly, Eloise felt so excited she fairly hummed with it. It was thrilling, this room, this company.

  “I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Gemma Drake,” Hollybrook announced beside her.

  She turned to the woman in question and did her very best not to feel intimidated.

  The woman looked like a goddess divine. Black hair coiled about her face. Her eyes were two blue stars dancing in a pale oval. Her lips were jaunty red, smiling in a way that looked as if she knew the mysteries of all the world, and her crimson frock clung to her body in a way that suggested what was hidden was a delight that no man could possibly ever anticipate. Mrs. Drake was astonishing, and the way she held herself, waving her red feathered fan oh so slowly, she looked as if she was a mischievous creature and some witty bon mot was about to spill out of her mouth at any particular moment.

  “What a treasure you have brought us, Hollybrook,” Mrs. Drake declared without a hint of mockery. “I’m sure that we shall eat the young lady up.”

  “No, no, no, Mrs. Drake,” Hollybrook warned. “You shall not eat her up at all. You shall teach her how to do the eating.”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Drake said with a wink. “It will be a joy.”

  Mrs. Drake smiled at Eloise, then hooked her gloved arm with Eloise’s. “It sounds as if you and I are to be fast friends, my dear, and I shall like nothing more. For I do enjoy initiating another young lady into the mysteries of the demimonde.”

  That sounded most strange to Eloise. Was she some sort of mistress trainer? But then Eloise gasped, “Forgive me! You are Mrs. Drake.”

  “I do believe that is what we just said,” Mrs. Drake teased, her eyes dancing with mirth.

  Eloise laughed nervously. “But I have seen you upon the stage many, many a time. You have filled my evenings with delight.”

  “Oh my, you are full of enthusiasm, are you not, my dear? You are fresh from the country, no doubt.” Mrs. Drake snapped her fan shut. “My dearest Hollybrook, I think we must not tell everyone that she is a rough London girl. No one would ever believe it. Not for a moment. Not with her excitement for the world.”

  Mrs. Drake winked at Eloise. “No, we shall have to say that you’ve come down from the country, a young country miss, fresh and lovely. And that Hollybrook snapped you up immediately when he heard you sing and saw what a lovely creature you are. I think that is the story we shall tell. Don’t you, Hollybrook?”

  Hollybrook arched his brow. “I think that a very recommendable story. Now, Mrs. Drake, why don’t you take our dear young lady about the room?”

  Mrs. Drake cocked her head to the side which caused her dark curls to dance over her pale breast. “I did not catch the young lady’s name.”

  “No, Hollybrook,” ground out. “You did not.”

  They had not discussed her new name, and Eloise suddenly realized that Hollybrook was appalled by his own lack of forethought.

  Still, she was not about to be intimidated, not when in the presence of a woman she so admired.

  She wished Mrs. Drake to think well of her. And so she met her eyes and said, “I am Miss Estella Cartwright.”

  Mrs. Drake blinked at her fast reply but then slowly smiled, revealing her pearly teeth. “How do you do, Miss Cartwright? It is a good name, I think.”

  “I quite like it,” Eloise replied, quelling her own nerves.

  “Now come about the room with me, Estella. I wish to show you the way of your new world. Hollybrook sent me a note about you. And I think that it is the most fascinating lark that I shall ever venture upon.”

  She didn’t know how she felt about being a fascinating lark, but she supposed it was better than being a dull piece.

  So she happily went about the room with Mrs. Drake.

  “Now we must get ourselves some champagne,” Mrs. Drake enthused as she wove through the crush of people.

  Eloise had had little chance to drink champagne over the years. Young ladies were generally encouraged to drink lemonade, or rather wilted punch.

  She happily took one of the crystal flutes filled with the bubbling French liquid and took a sip. The dry, yet cheerful beverage danced over her tongue, and she found herself liking it quite a bit.

  “Now, now my dear,” Mrs. Drake instructed. “Drink it down. I think that you are in need of a bit of relaxation. After all, this is hardly your usual milieu, is it?”

  She shook her head, a little off put that it was so very obvious. But, of course, she was new to this. “No, I confess it is not.”

  Mrs Drake waved her fan at the champagne glass.

  And Eloise
did as instructed, drinking down the glass of champagne.

  “Good, now take another.”

  She did, taking one from a tray swept about the room by a graceful footman. “I hope that I am not to get too tipsy,” she said. “I should hate to show my hand.”

  “I’m glad to see that you are clever enough to be concerned about such a thing. Most ladies don’t realize or care that downing glass after glass will put them in a most difficult position.” Mrs. Drake’s face grew serious for a moment. “No, it is good that you realize it.”

  As quickly as her seriousness had appeared, it disappeared under joie de vivre. “You want to only have just enough wine to make you feel a little bit warm, my dear, a little bit happy,” she said. “Any more, and anyone else in the room might get the best of you when it is you who should always wish to get the best of them.”

  “Is that life, then?” Eloise asked, following her new instructor about the room. “Always wishing to get the best of everyone else?”

  “Of course, it is,” Mrs. Drake said, arching a brow. “We must always be on alert to do the very best for ourselves that we can, and we must also always be on the alert to make certain that no one is out to put us off our path. It is a dangerous world, my dear, and we must be ever careful with our persons.”

  Eloise nodded, making note. “So I gather.”

  “Now, I shall begin to show you the lay of the land.”

  She looked back over her shoulder at Hollybrook, who stood by himself drinking a glass of champagne.

  He did not go over to the beautiful and scandalously clothed ladies as Eloise thought he might.

  Quite the contrary, he suddenly stalked over to the fire looking rather grumpy and stood alone.

  “Does he not like company, Hollybrook?” Eloise asked. It seemed odd for a rake.

  “Of course, he does,” assured Mrs. Drake as she took a sip from her flute. “He’s usually the center of attention. He’s quite jolly, you know, and usually keeps everyone on their toes and laughing, but tonight he seems a trifle out of sorts. I wonder if it’s your presence, my dear.”