Calypso Magic Read online

  "Lyonel!"

  "Forgive me, Lucia. Diana?"

  A fair-haired gentleman standing near a potted palm said to his friend, "Who is that with Lyonel? A lovely girl. He is so quickly over his bout of Charlotte Haversham?"

  His friend, Lady Markham, laughed lightly. "I should trust so, particularly since she is now Lady Danvers."

  "For my own part, I think Lyonel very lucky. This young lady looks like an innocent little flower, ready to ---"

  "Really, Edgar! You promised you would cease your poetry at eight o'clock. It is well past that."

  "She is lovely," Edgar persisted. He saw Charlotte Moressey, Lady Danvers, from the corner of his eye, raised his voice, "I hear tell that Lyonel is much taken with the girl. No wonder, I say. Why, just look at that beautiful hair and face, not to mention, well, her other remarkable assets."

  Corinne, Lady Markham, wasn't at all stupid. Nor was she a friend to Charlotte. "I agree. Perhaps they will make a match of it."

  Charlotte turned to her new husband and said in an overly bright voice, "Come, Dancy, let us waltz."

  Corinne was a malicious bitch, Charlotte thought as she followed Dancy's rather erratic movements on the dance floor. Who was that wretched girl? She saw Lyonel smiling down at her, and winced. She knew he would have to marry, if nothing else, for an heir to the earldom. But so soon? If only, she thought for the hundredth time, he hadn't come to Haversham House that ill-fated day. If only she hadn't been in the tack room at that particular time, with Dancy. If only they'd been discussing Paulson's treatment for a swollen hock, if only

  Charlotte shook her head. She was honest enough to admit that she'd done herself in. She'd been greedy. She'd wanted both Lyoenl, for a husband, and Dancy, for a lover. She'd heard that Lyonel had gone north and was in a way pleased that she had bowled him over so thoroughly. But here he was, only two months later, dancing with a dazzling girl and enjoying himself as if she, Charlotte, had never existed.

  "You are a natural dancer," Lyonel said before he could censor the compliment.

  She looked taken aback. "As you said, many times, my lord, you are an excellent teacher."

  "You are supposed to say, Thank you, Lyonel."

  "And assume my maidenly pose, complete with downcast eyes and perhaps a little blush?"

  "You do learn quickly. Come along now, let me introduce you to some appropriate gentlemen. You will dance only with those of whom I approve. And no more than two dances with any gentleman, else it could cause unwanted gossip. There will not be a scoundrel, fortune-hunter, or philanderer among them."

  "I am not stupid!"

  "Perhaps not, but you are vastly ignorant. Do as I tell you or you will likely make a complete fool of yourself."

  "I do not like you."

  "If a gentleman looks overly long at your bosom, you will not dance with him again."

  "Then I am not to waltz with you a second time?"

  He grinned. "Since I am a relative --- your only male relative in London --- you may assume that my interest in yourWell, you may assume that my regard is in the avuncular vein."

  Lyonel turned her over to Lord Donnovan, a young man with a delightful smile, who looked most worshipful at the succulent new vision. Diana felt her confidence soar and her lacerated sensibilities mend a bit.

  "She will do just fine, Lucia, you will see," said Lyon to his aunt, "Donnovan is certain to feed her enough compliments to give her indigestion. And you can forget any thought of matchmaking between the two of us."

  "The way you've been baiting her, I wonder that she still speaks to you."

  "Diana Savarol, whatever else she may be, is not a submissive simpleton. She enjoys my baiting, I'll wager. She certainly has dished me up in my own sauce a couple of times."

  "Only a couple?"

  "Really, Lucia, by the time she's truly up to snuff, I'll be a doddering old man." He stopped cold, his eyes fastened on Charlotte, who was laughing somewhat immoderately at something Dancy had said. She looked achingly beautiful, just as beautiful as the first time he'd ever seen her at Newmarket, but his heart did nothing more this time than tighten, just a bit. Odd, how he'd only kissed her chastely even after they'd become betrothed. Then to see her on her back, her skirts tossed up, her head arched back, thighs spread and wrapped aboutHe drew a deep breath. Women, he thought. The whole bloody lot of them should be shipped off to Constantinople. Let them be lascivious in a harem.

  "She was never worthy of you, my boy," Lucia said softly. "You closed your eyes to the truth, you know. She had snared you well and good, I'll say that for her. But it's over, and time for you to rejoin the world again. And, Lyonel, Diana isn't a bit like Charlotte. She's guileless, you know. Perhaps too much so."

  He cursed under his breath. "There's Brandy and Ian. I think I will go speak to them."

  Lucia sighed, watching Lyonel stride toward the Duke and Duchess of Portmaine. She grinned, wagering to herself that Lyonel would never in a million years draw attention to the duchess's bountiful bosom.

  Lyonel, because he had no choice in the matter, escorted both Lucia and Diana to supper. He was not particularly surprised when two of his bachelor friends asked to join their table. He saw that Diana was much enjoying herself, but he quickly ceased listening or contributing to the conversation. He wanted to leave; he wanted to return to Yorkshire. He had spent some of his time with Frances and Hawk, the Earl and Countess of Rothermere, until their obvious adoration for each other made him so uncomfortable and unhappy that he couldn't bear it any longer. Frances was nearing her term --- this her second child --- and the thought of the child she would bear made him ache more than he could have believed possible for what he had lost, for what, indeed, he would never have had in the first place. It had been difficult enough when little Charles, Viscount Lindsey, had discovered his Uncle Lyon and become his adoring fan. For a fleeting moment, he saw Hawk's large brown hand gently caressing Frances' rounded stomach. He blinked away the image.

  Lyonel had been ready to marry, to raise a family, to protect them and love them until he left this earth. And then he had met Charlotte, so innocent, so shy and charming. God, what a fool he'd been! He sat back in his chair, staring morosely into his glass of claret. He looked up at the sound of Diana's bright laughter, and his eyes fell to her breasts. He sucked in his breath. He would set up a mistress as soon as possible. He had been too long without sex, that was all.

  Diana danced her second waltz with Lyonel at midnight. She was mildly intoxicated from the champagne, and she saw him through a very pleasant haze. "Why are you being so quiet?"

  "I haven't a thing to say. Unlike the weaker sex, I don't chatter inanities and bore the devil out of my partner."

  "I am not weak. I wager I could show a good account of myself with you, were we to come to blows."

  "No doubt an excellent talent for a lady to possess. I saw you dancing with that French idiot, DuPres. Stay away from him, Diana. He'll have you on your back and your petticoats up about your chin in five minutes."

  "And you, I suppose, are a saint?"

  "No, I simply have no interest in silly, overendowed little girls. Now be quiet, you lost track of the beat."

  "I am sorry she hurt you so badly, Lyonel."

  "Shut up, Diana."

  She sighed, knowing that if she weren't vaguely tipsy, she would rip up at him at his galling rudeness. And all she was trying to do was to be sympathetic. When the dance ended, she said, "I must go to the ladies' withdrawing room."

  "Too much champagne, huh?"

  "Don't be crude."

  It was odd, she thought as she made her way upstairs, weaving just a bit, but she would have dropped her jaw in utter horror had any of the other gentlemen she'd confessed with or danced with spoken to her as Lyonel did.

  3

  He who listens at keyholes will have his eye poked out.

  —ITALIAN PROVERB

  "I hear she is from the West Indies."

  "One can tell that she is from
somewhere dreadful. Did you see that tan?"

  "I do wonder if it's true what one hears --- the dreadful morals of supposed ladies in that uncivilized place?"

  "One mustn't forget that she is Lady Cranston's guest."

  "But how could she walk about in the sun like that? I tell you, her face is the color of a berry?"

  Oh, dear, Diana thought as she paused at the partially open door. Why would they care about me? She unconsciously touched her fingertips again to her cheek. No more powder. In fact, there was a light sheen of perspiration on her skin. Yes, she was probably as brown as a berry.

  She heard the swish of silk, the buzz of conversation coming closer, and quickly moved down the corridor. Five ladies came out of the withdrawing room and walked away from her toward the staircase. Relieved, Diana pulled back her shoulders and went in.

  There was but one lady there, seated in front of a mirror. Her mouth was open, her fingertip rubbing her front teeth.

  Diana merely nodded to her and continued on her way. Once she had returned, she was surprised to see the lady still there, standing now, tapping her foot, her fingers out of her mouth.

  "You are Diana Savarol, I presume."

  "Why, yes. And you?"

  "Charlotte Moreseey, Lady Danvers. I understand that you and Lyonel are cousins of a sort."

  Charlotte! This was the young lady who had severely ruptured Lyonel's heart? She felt a surge of envy and wondered at herself. It was doubtless the effects of the champagne.

  "Yes," she said. "Of a sort."

  "I also understand that Lady Cranston is to bring you out?"

  Diana heard the tone of vexation in Charlotte's voice and wondered at it. "Yes, that is correct."

  "Are you not a bit old to have a first Season?"

  "Probably. I am nineteen, soon to be twenty."

  "Dear me, I am only twenty, but, of course, a married lady."

  "My congratulations, my lady."

  Charlotte frowned, just a bit. Was this little twit being sarcastic? "Of course you know that Lord Saint Leven is not interested in ladies at the present time."

  "I doubt that sincerely."

  Charlotte gave a thin laugh. "Ladies, my dear, ladies. Gentlemen, you know, will have their little amours hidden away."

  Little amours? Goodness, it sounded as if Lyonel was secreting away some sort of small rodent.

  "Take my advice and avoid your cousin of sorts. He is not a nice man. In fact, that is why I broke off my engagement with him. He is most violent-natured. Really rather vile, as a matter of fact. I shouldn't trust him if I were you."

  "He seems most mild-mannered," Diana said with great and instant untruth. "Quite the gentleman."

  "Trust me, my dear." Charlotte patted her arm and said abruptly, "My, how very large you are! It is unfortunate that gentlemen prefer smaller, more gently endowed ladies. But of course, if you have a decent dowry, there will be some who will willingly overlook your ---"

  "My immense number of inches?"

  "Well, yes, perhaps."

  "Or perhaps hands, as in a horse?"

  "Your humor is most odd, Miss Savarol. You will be thought rather fast if you do not moderate your opinions."

  "It was not an opinion, merely an alternative so that you could be precise in your observations, my lady. Did you mean rather fast, as in a racing horse?"

  "No! Rather fast, my dear, means loose."

  "Goodness! Loose as in a saddle girth?"

  "That is quite enough, Miss Savarol! I am not amused, I assure you. I do not find you at all acceptable."

  "I am quite cast down," Diana said, eyeing this gorgeous lady with growing dislike. "Not cast off, as in a horseshoe, of course."

  "Or cast off as in what a gentleman does to a loose girl."

  Diana chuckled. "Yes, Lyonel told me about Monsieur DuPres. He was most explicit about what that particular gentleman did to the unwary of our sex."

  "But of course you are quite familiar with his kind, are you not? There is no society where you are from, no civilization, no refinement, no ---"

  "Not much of anything. Quite right, my lady. I cannot wait to return to my sort. Now, if you will excuse me."

  Diana turned and walked from the room, knowing she'd made an enemy and not caring. Odious woman! If she had been the one to break off with Lyonel, why was she so concerned about Diana becoming involved with him? She had no reason to be jealous. Diana decided halfway down the wide staircase that Lyonel, whatever his faults, and they did appear to be numerous, didn't deserve that female, even at his most obnoxious.

  Lucia informed a nearly comatose Diana that they would leave at three o'clock in the morning. Diana felt as though her feet would crumble and disintegrate, and she said as much.

  "You did magnificently, my child," said Lucia. "Perhaps your slippers are a bit small. We will see to it in the morning."

  "Morning, Aunt? I doubt I will be alive in the morning. I assure you my feet don't wish to see the light of day."

  "Did you not order the largest of slippers for her, Lucia?"

  "Lyonel! Mind your tongue."

  "Sorry, Lucia. Ladies, shall we go!"

  It was Lyonel who was silent on the ride back.

  Finally, Lucia said, "My dear boy, whatever is wrong? I trust you are not blown?"

  "No," he said, and that short, sharp word woke Diana up abruptly.

  "Then what is wrong with you? Have you run short of nasty insults? Your shoes aren't too small, are they?"

  "No. It is nothing. Go back to sleep, Diana. I am certain both of us would find that preferable."

  "Will your gentlemanly sensibilities be offended if I remove my slippers?"

  "There is no need to announce it. Simply do it and we will just trust that you do not have sweaty feet."

  "Lyonel!"

  "Sorry, Lucia." He sighed, leaned his head back against the soft squabs, and closed his eyes.

  "He is in a snit," Diana said, her voice loud enough not only for Lyonel's ears, but also for the horses'.

  "Miss --- Diana, shut up!"

  "I simply mean that I do not feel comfortable when you are not forthcoming, or rather, more accurate, obnoxious."

  Lyon cocked an eye open. "Very well. Charlotte, Lady Danvers, was very busily shredding your character, your morals, or lack thereof, your impertinent mouth, and your lack of respect and deference for your London betters."

  "That wretched bi--- person!"

  "My sentiments exactly."

  "Oh, dear. Why is she doing such a thing, Lyonel?"

  "I have a question first for Diana, Lucia. Did you speak to the lady?"

  Diana shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Well, yes, perhaps. Do you remember when I went to the ladies' withdrawing room?"

  "I remember very well. You had imbibed too much champagne and needed to ---"

  "Lyonel!"

  "Forgive me, Lucia."

  "She was there, waiting for me. She was the impertinent one! And I might add, I defended you, my lord. She was warning me about your vile character and your nasty temper."

  That brought Lyonel upright. "She what?"

  "She was warning me of you---"

  "I heard you well enough. All right, you see, don't you, Lucia? My association with Diana can only hurt her chances now that Charlotte has decided to be petty."

  "I dished her up in her own sauce," Diana said with great relish.

  "She was the more ruthless. She dished you up in everyone else' sauce."

  "Quiet, both of you," said Lucia. "I must think. In a sense, I am glad that Charlotte has shown her true colors immediately. I, as you know, Lyonel, am not without influence. I will not allow her to continue her malignant, very untrue, gossip. She is the one on the edge of social ruin."

  "It appears she trusts my gentleman's honor not to betray her," said Lyonel, his voice as dry as Morgan's Island, a small bump of land in the Caribbean that sported not one tree or shrub.

  "Betray her? What did she do? I thought she was the one who br
oke off your engagement? Why she told me that ---"

  "Shut up, Diana."

  "No, my dear child, it was Lyonel who broke it off. I will make it clear to the chit that if she doesn't muzzle her mouth, it will become known exactly why he did it."

  "No, Lucia. I forbid it."

  Diana bounced forward on her seat. "Why? I do not understand you. You have done nothing but insult me from the moment we met, yet this woman, who isn't at all nice, you wish to protect. Do you still love her? Is that the reason?"

  Lyonel sighed. "Lucia, try to find her a mute for a husband. No, better yet, he had better be deaf."

  "You do still love her! You are so weak and ---"

  "Now, now, my dear. Let us hear no more about it. Ah, home at last."

  "At last is right," said Lyon.

  He assisted Lucia from the brougham, then held out his hand to Diana.

  "You see, it is like this," Diana said, hanging back. "I cannot put my slippers back on. My feet are too swelled."

  He cursed under his breath. "Oh, come here!"

  To her surprise, he grasped her about the waist and lifted her from the carriage into his arms. "You will certainly strain my back."

  Even as he spoke the words, he was very aware of her warm body against his, her breasts pressed against his chest, the very womanly thighs against his arms.

  He said under his breath, "Tomorrow, the very first thing tomorrow, I will take care of this."

  "Take care of what?" Diana asked, unconsciously leaning her face closer to his.

  "None of your affair. Be quiet, else I might drop you. Lord knows you deserve it."

  "Come, you have not been at all reticent with my before. Have you suddenly become a coward? Yes, I suppose that you have."

  Goaded, he said, "Tomorrow I shall find a pleasantcompanion."

  "Ah. As in a little amour? To hide away?"

  He pulled up short on the top step of Lucia's town house and stared at her, his face only an inch from hers. "What do you know of such things"

  "Your very nice Charlotte told me that you and all gentlemen have these amours hidden away. It sounded most odd to me, as if you were secreting rodents in your house."