Page 57 of To Dance with a Devil

“Well, I didn’t say it,” Minerva muttered. “It’s said of him. That he’s not quite tame, I suppose. Not used to being in polite company. His manners are appalling.”

“Minerva, darling, you could have said nothing more precisely calculated to make me want to further our acquaintance.”

Minerva nodded, her expression resigned. “I rather feared you would say that,” she said and then shrugged. “Oh, well, it looks like we’re both bound for perdition. I suppose we may as well enjoy it.”

“Certainly we shall enjoy it,” Helena said as they drew closer to her target, who was deep in conversation with Silas Anson, the Viscount Cavendish.

Lord Cavendish looked up as they approached and smiled warmly at them. “Ladies,” he said. “How lovely to see you both.”

“And you, Lord Cavendish, Mr Knight,” Helena said, giving Mr Knight a dazzling smile before turning back to the viscount.

“Is Aashini here?” Helena asked, trying not to allow her attention to wander to the dark figure glowering beside her. He seemed to radiate hostility, though she could not determine why exactly.

“She is. Dancing with a rakish looking sailor, I believe.”

“Oh, that’s St Clair,” Minerva said, laughing. “So I think you mean a rakish looking earl. No one could ever mistake him for a sailor, surely?”

“I know what I mean,” Cavendish replied, chuckling.

“Breeding will out, no matter the disguise,” said Mr Knight, his voice mocking, his dark eyes returning to Helena with slow deliberation. “Though some disguises are more apt than others,” he added, his cold gaze sweeping over her costume of Eve and leaving a wave of heat in its wake.

“Are you calling me a temptress, Mr Knight?” Helena asked, pleased by the flash of surprise in his dark eyes, though it was quickly gone. Lord Cavendish’s eyebrows shot up, and Helena knew that remark would travel directly to her brother who would lecture her for being so brazen. It had been worth it.

Mr Knight studied her for a long, silent moment before replying. “No.”

He turned away from her and walked off.

“Well!” Helena fumed, despite having been prepared for his reaction. She stared after him until he disappeared into the crowd and then burst out laughing. “What a dreadful man,” she said, feeling a surge of excitement coursing through her.

Oh, Mr Knight, she thought to herself, you have no idea what you’ve just done.

Chapter 19

Mr Briggs,

Though it is with great reluctance I write, I must confess that you were correct in your assumption. I am in dire financial difficulties. I had to borrow money to pay for my last month’s rent and now I cannot afford the repayment and have no way of paying the next month’s rent either.

It seems I have no choice but to put my pride and honour aside and enquire about the man you spoke of, the one who was looking for a ‘paid companion’. You said he was a gentleman, and very discreet. Can you assure me of this…

― Excerpt of a letter from Jemima Fernside to Mr Gerald Briggs.

5th December 1814. Mr and Mrs Cadogan’s celebration ball, The Earl of St Clair’s London Residence, St James.

“Well, are you ready for your big entrance?”

Bonnie looked at her mother-in-law and then back to the mirror, wondering if perhaps she’d been a bit too bold for her own good. When she’d told the countess about the costume she had in mind, Lady St Clair had stared at her before saying, quite calmly, that she was a diabolical, wicked and outrageous young woman who would cause the family no end of trouble. Her mother-in-law then clapped her hands together in delight and thrown herself into Bonnie’s plans with gusto. Even Harriet had joined in, though mostly to try to keep a rein on some of their more shocking ideas. She said someone had to.

A queen gazed back at Bonnie and her lips curved into a smile. She’d wanted to give the old tabbies who been so certain she was destined for ruin something to chew on and Queen Elizabeth, the virgin queen, had been so perfect as to be irresistible. Lady St Clair had pretty much emptied her jewellery box over her, and everywhere she glinted with diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. It was outrageous, a show-stopping shout of triumph and not a little vulgar. Bonnie couldn’t have been clearer if she’d stuck her tongue out at them. The dress was gorgeous, a rich, dark blue, heavily embroidered with gold thread. It weighed a ton and Bonnie was grateful for the change in fashions as it was rather unwieldy too, but she felt like a queen and that had been her intention.

“Yes,” she said, flashing the countess a cheeky smile. “I am ready.”

Her mother-in-law returned her smile, and Bonnie recognised a kindred spirit at last. It had taken her a while to realise it, but after all, Lady St Clair had married a wicked rake, a wild fellow with a dreadful reputation, and she’d tamed him. Well, up to a point, at least. He’d stopped his womanising ways but had remained a rather dashing figure, which made sense, considering the two sons they’d turned out. Lady St Clair, though, was not the rigid, moralising woman Bonnie had feared. Far from it. She was warm and understanding, with a fine sense of the ridiculous and a rather dreadful sense of humour to rival Bonnie’s. She also got away with saying the most shocking things by adopting the vague and frivolous mien those who didn’t know her well thought was the sum of her parts. They simply thought she didn’t mean whatever scandalous thing she’d said the way she’d said it, when she’d meant every word, as her intimates knew full well.

In short, Bonnie belonged at last. She’d found a family, a husband who adored her even when she was dreadful, and a mother-in-law who admired her even when she was dreadful—up to a point at least. Plus, her brother-in-law was an absolute darling, and her sister-in-law one of her closest friends. How much more perfect could life get?

Lady St Clair offered her arm, dressed rather outrageously herself as Queen Boadicea. She’d taken her inspiration from an engraving by John Opie of ‘Queen Boadicea Haranguing the Britons’. If Bonnie was to be a queen, she’d said with a haughty sniff, she was certainly not about to be outdone.

They’d agreed it would be far more spectacular to make a grand entrance once everyone had arrived. There was nothing the ton liked better than a bit of theatre, after all. They had also decided she would enter on Lady St Clair’s arm, a show of solidarity and approval from her new mother-in-law that would force many of the high sticklers to accept Bonnie into their ranks without further protest.