Duplicity Ch. 01

Through the throngs of shifting bodies, Evelyn finally caught sight of the genial Philip Mallory bowing over Lady Warwick's extended hand. Lady Warwick bowed deeply and inclined her head. How odd! It couldn't be Philip Mallory who created such a fuss. No! He was making gestures of introduction to his companion, a towering, broad-shouldered stranger that cause such interest.

Evelyn tried for a better look as she twirled with her dance partner. This stranger was indeed admirable with classic good looks: thick inky black hair, broad forehead, long dark brows over deep set eyes on a pale, almost aquiline face. He stood proudly and not in the slightest affected by the commotion he caused. Instead he fixed his steady gaze down on a visibly flustered Lady Warwick as they spoke. In most ways he was no different than the other peers in his dress and stance, but there was something about him that marked him as different from them.

"How fascinating," Evelyn muttered to herself. Such a proud visage! Such self-assuredness! She couldn't tear her eyes from him!

Then, he turned towards the dance floor. She caught sight of a pair of icy blue eyes that made everything else fade away! A strange shudder shook Evelyn to her very core!

Her dance partner seemed not to have noticed her distraction and was saying to her. "My sisters just aquired a new grand piano, perhaps you'd come and regale us with your musical talents?"

"I dare not speak of my talents and your sisters in the same breath," Lady Evelyn replied, flustered, as she offered her partner a quick dimpled smile. Her dancing partner, so handsome only a moment ago, now seemed so plain and dull to her.

"You are so delightfully self-effacing!" her companion exclaimed with an approving grin. He licked his lips as he undressed her with his hooded green eyes.

Evelyn swallowed down her disgust at the obscene gesture. "Please, I must rest a bit. I'm faint and out of breath after so many reels."

Her companion immediate went to fetch her a drink as Evelyn sought out a vacant seat. She snapped open her fan and lightly fanned herself to cool her feverish skin. She observed the wide expanse of the ballroom as it swayed under the orbs of colorful silk, taffeta and chiffon skirts twirling and swishing all around her. The heat, the wine, the different notes of expensive soaps and perfumes made Evelyn's head spin. Her ear rang with tittering laughter, endless chatter, as it all blended into the vibrating melody the orchestra was playing. Through it all she felt several set of eyes studying her, evaluating her... suffocating her with the weight of their judgement. Unfortunately, the night was still young and it would be many hours before the first rays of dawn when anyone would think to leave.

Evelyn gaze sought out the tall, handsome stranger again. He was still speaking to Lady Warwick. He paid no attention to all the eager faces watching him so intensely as he swept a cool glance over the heads of those around him. He stood so calm and still, amongst the colorful chaos.

Perhaps, there was no need to hurry away after all.

*************************************************

Lord Davenport and Philip were engaged in the usual small talk with Lady Warwick. "G'evening Lady Warwick. I hope Lord Warwick is well."

Lady Warwick flushed like a schoolgirl when the regal Marquess of Davenport bowed over her slender hand. She was well aware this was the first time the elusive Lord Davenport has spoken to her directly. One might say he scowled too much, or that his straight nose was slightly too long and his pale pink lips, though sensuous, was too thin and cruel, but one glance from his intense greyish blue eyes and any woman's honor and dignity was forfeit.

"Earl Warwick could not join us tonight?" asked Philip. He tried his best not to stare at one particular young woman in a flattering pale pink silk gown across the room.

"He is well enough, thank you, but he detests these thing," she replied though her gaze never left Lord Davenport's face. She wondered if the stories of the Marquess' sexual prowess were true. Lady Warwick had little doubt beneath his crisp white shirt and cravat he possessed the physique of a carved Adonis. The thought brought a blush up from somewhere down below, up to Lady Warwick's cheeks. Her elderly, valetudinarian husband was so far beyond the lusts of the flesh the still youthful Lady felt herself desperate for a man's touch. Especially this man!

Philip's gaze sought out Lady Evelyn who still sat alone, with her slender neck arched gracefully to speak to a pair of young dandies who gathered around her. "And how is your niece Lady Evelyn this evening? I hope she's enjoying London Society."

Lady Warwick chuckled merrily. "Why Mr. Mallory, I'm sure you are capable of asking her that question yourself." Please do, she thought and leave Lord Davenport by her side!

"She's well occupied," Philip said sadly as he watched her. "She has no shortage of admirers."

"Ah," Lady Warwick grumbled with an exaggerated sigh. "I fear the attention has spoiled her some what. I had hoped to be a moderating influence but she simply won't be guided."

"I can't say she needs much guidance," Philip countered softly. "Look how marvelously she handles herself there."

"She is young," Lord Davenport observed casually. "Young people, especially pretty young women, tend to be full of hubris, I find."

"Quite right my lord," Lady Warwick agreed with a beaming smile at Lord Davenport. " I believe her guardian, whoever he may be, kept her sheltered and unprepared for the attention she is receiving. She speaks too bluntly and judge too quickly. She paints well enough but she has no musical talents to be speak of. I would not say she has much guidance at all in her education. Such a lapse in a young woman's upbringing will be her downfall."

"You are not acquainted with her guardian?" Lord Davenport asked with sudden curiosity. "Who are her people that warrants her using the address of 'Lady'?"

Lady Warwick blinked rapidly up at Lord Davenport's alert gaze. She realized with a lump in the pit of her stomach that she may have said the wrong thing. The truth was she was the Earl's third wife for less than a handful of years and her husband rarely bothered to explain anything to her. There was much about London Society she was still unaccustomed to herself, though she was loathed to admit it. She did learn, in a world where connections and reputation was everything, it was crucial for her to chose her words wisely.

When Lady Warwick learned of Evelyn's addition to her household, she felt put upon as she had two unwed sisters living with her who were rapidly descending into spinsterhood. When she laid eyes on Lady Evelyn's blossoming beauty, Lady Warwick felt a tinge of jealousy which soon grew to resentment.

Then Lady Warwick comforted herself with the thought: At last here was someone who was desperately in need of her guidance, who she might successfully launch into society after the disastrous debuts of her sisters. What Lady Warwick got was a willful young woman with the most baffling temperaments. All the beauty in the world would not make up for Lady Evelyn's impossible demeanor. Unlike other young ladies of her age and comparable good looks, she seemed not to care at all to spend her morning adorning herself with pretty clothes or flowers or jewels. Instead of seeking the friendship of other young ladies her own age, Evelyn spent her leisure time pouring over musky old volumes of neither poetry nor romances. While other young ladies took pride in their accomplishments in watercolors or music, Lady Evelyn would silently observe those around her with the unflinching, unabashed wide-eyed gaze of hers as though she could see to the very heart of those around her no matter what Lady Warwick said to her.

Lady Warwick tried to engage her young charge in light conversation with little success. Where did she call home? Lady Evelyn's thick fan-like lashes fluttered but she remained mute. Who was her guardian? Would he come to visit her soon? Those perfect lips pulled back in a small enigmatic smile, to merely reveal a pair of charming dimples in her dewy cheeks. That was always her response. Most days Lady Warwick had the distinct feeling Lady Evelyn was silently mocking the ladies of the Warwick household, till finally Lady Warwick gave up trying to form any sort of friendship with the impossible girl.

Who was Lady Evelyn? More importantly, how might Lady Warwick explain the mysterious girl to this set she was so desperate to win acceptance from? This girl of such beauty that roused unavoidable notice and curiosity.

"My husband is often forgetful," Lady Warwick said quickly with a warble that revealed her anxiety. "Often he assumes he has told me certain things when he has not. I've gathered Lady Evelyn is the orphaned niece of his first wife. He hasn't mentioned who has guardianship of the young lady, just that her people were titled, and of a sizable fortune. Even so, her upkeep shan't be a hardship to us. My husband can be very generous. TOO generous."

Both Philip and Lord Davenport grimaced at the open reference to money and recalled how Lord Warwick had married well beneath himself.

Lord Davenport looked past the gouche Lady Warwick towards the lithe figure of young Lady Evelyn as she stood up to allow another one of her admirers to lead her to the center of the ballroom. She was unaware her little fan has slipped from her lap to the floor as she walked away.

Under Lord Davenport's watchful eyes, Evelyn finally turned and revealed her full profile to him. Ah yes, it's no wonder Philip was so miserable. She was very handsome indeed! Her dark brows curved in high arches over her expressive eyes. He could see they were an unusual shade of dark blue, even from across the room. It would take a true master painter to capture her dainty little nose and the perfect curve of her bow-shaped lips. Her alabaster complexion was perfection, her eyes the right shape of almond to make them appear mysterious and almost exotic. French, perhaps.

Lord Davenport realized he was gaping. He cleared his throat into his fist and casually scanned the rest of the room. He couldn't keep his gaze from her for long though and soon found himself straining to see her in her pink silk frock over the other twirling dancers. She moved in perfect timing to the music with easy, unstudied grace. The dance ended and she glided away to make way for other dancers. From the eagerness of her companion's face she was delighting him with whatever she was saying. Then again, she could be reciting the Lord's prayer with those perfectly shaped red lips and her admirers would claim she was the most interesting conversationalist, Lord Davenport thought archly.

"Lord Davenport!"

His lordship turned, silently irritated to be interrupted by an old acquaintance. He half listened to the stream of consciousness pouring from this man whose name Lord Davenport didn't care to recall at that moment. Some bits and pieces of the latest gossip, the next by-election projection, the status of expansion in the East and even Lord Davenport's annual hunt. Lord Davenport gave terse, one-word replies as his mind wandered again and again Lady Evelyn's dropped fan. Perhaps someone else had seen it and picked it up while he was struck in yet another dreary conversation! Luckily, his acquaintance soon moved on and several young women closed in around Lady Warwick and Philip. It gave him the perfect chance to slip from the group. He barely registered the collective drop of feminine shoulders as he retreated.

Lord Davenport moved around the perimeter of the ballroom, exchanging polite bows with those he recognized and a curt nod to those whom he did not. With subtle gestures he dissuade anyone else from approaching him. Lord Davenport was no in the mood to speak to anyone. He had a singular focus to know more about this young lady. Was it for his cousin's sake or his own, he was no longer certain. He managed to reached where he had seen Lady Evelyn's fan fall on the floor without difficulty. The little ivory and colorful silk piece was still there on the floor, peaking out from behind a chair leg and he picked it up and pocketed quickly.

After another turn on the dance floor, Evelyn receded once more to join the lookers on to catch her breath. Tiny beads of perspiration had formed along her hairline and she flushed in a pretty shade of deep rose to her companion's delight.

"You dance so angelically!" her latest partner said with breathless eagerness. She had forgotten his name. "Will honor me with another and make me the happiest man alive?"

"Please, sir!" Evelyn protested with a good natured smile. "I must rest a bit! Surely there are other young ladies here equal to the task."

Her young and earnest companion clasped both hands to his heart, earnestly. "How could I think of anyone else when I have eyes only for you Lady Evelyn? Oh my lady, you are simply radiant!"

Evelyn smiled placatingly, through gritted teeth, at her companion's ardor. "You are too kind, sir, but I see several ladies of far greater beauty if you'd only look."

"Never, my lady!" her companion exclaimed gallantly. "Your beauty surpasses all others. You bloom like a rose right before my eyes."

Evelyn's cheeks dimpled again, only slightly. "Please do not compare me to a rose, sir! It has too many thorns and wilts all too quickly!"

"Then you are like the sun and shines bright eternally!" the young man declared in earnest.

"I cannot liken myself to something so bright that blinds anyone from looking at me too long," she replied steadily to suppress her irritation, but he seemed oblivious to her growing weariness.

The handsome young man, by the name of Henry Wilkes, was use to young ladies giggle and flush prettily at his flattery. He was being utterly charming but Lady Evelyn appeared unmoved. It was getting increasingly impossible to maintain his wide smile but he quickly reminded himself of Lady Evelyn's rumored 100,000 pounds a year. With his mounting debts, and miserly father, he would withstand a hail of arrows lobbed at him if he had a chance at such a handsome income. His motivation wasn't purely mercenary of course. Lady Evelyn's beauty alone would have compelled him to pursue her. The reports of her wealth just added to his determination to win her.

"My lady," he tried again. "To what should I compare you to then? You shall name the thing and I will compose sonnets in agreement."

A loud snort had Henry Wilkes look over Lady Evelyn's shoulder to see the imposing visage of the Marquess of Davenport! Henry had the good sense to feel mortified. Of all the luck to have his clumsy attempt at romance witnessed by the urbane Lord Davenport. Of all the luck indeed!

"I won't compare myself to anything at all," Lady Evelyn was saying, calling the young man's attention back to her. "I cannot withstand such scrutiny."

Evelyn had danced three more dances, with as many partners, before she noticed her fan was gone. The heat and din from the music made it hard for her to think clearly. Where on earth was her fan? It was a gift from her brother and her favorite piece. She glanced around the floor where she had been sitting before. Seeing nothing, she wondered if someone had picked it up and placed it on one of the side tables out in the gallery. Before any of her over eager admirers noticed her, she quickly ducked out into the empty gallery. She searched every gilded surface and was just about to give up when a voice spoke from behind her.

"Good evening, Lady Evelyn!" said a deep masculine voice.

Even before Evelyn turned to see who addressed her, she somehow knew it would be him. That deep voice with a velvety cadence could only belong to one man!

Evelyn peered over her shoulder before turning around. It was indeed Philip Mallory's friend. He stepped out of the shadows of the dimly lit gallery and towered over her. She felt her cheeks flush hotly and her heart lurch in his presence. Could he hear how rapidly her heart started to beat in the empty gallery? Before she forgot herself completely and just stood there dumbly Evelyn quickly dipped into a deep curtsey.

"My lord," she said breathlessly.

"I've not the pleasure of an introduction though you seemed to have left quite an impression on everyone you've met," he said smoothly after offering her a slight incline of his head. He stood tall and erect with his hands clasped behind his back. "Especially my cousin."

Evelyn felt small and girlish before this man. "Your cousin? Oh! Mr. Mallory, you mean?" she asked. "I only had the pleasure of speaking to him briefly once or twice. I cannot imagine what sort of impression I may have made."

The corner of his eyes crinkled slightly in a smile that did not touch his lips. "It was... favorable."

Evelyn's blush deepened. When she lowered her blushing cheeks slightly at the compliment, it allowed him an unfettered look at glossy dark hair swept away from her pretty face. Up close her natural beauty shone brilliantly and unencumbered by frilly things young girls often wore to entice men. She wore some flowers in her hair and a rather plain, inexpensive gold pendant necklace that nestled between her swelling cleavage. His eyes stayed on her admirable decolletage. His pulse quickened and he felt his response to her as a dull ache deep within.

"Of course, you are well aware of your own charms," he said, his voice thicker than before. "If not, we can call on Henry Wilkes to point them out to you again."

"He flatters me." Evelyn didn't know where to look. She wanted this man to find her pleasing but she was inexplicably overwhelmed with embarrassment that this man overheard young Henry Wilkes' ardor. "His admiration was entirely misplaced."

"Careful," he cautioned, arching a long dark eyebrow meaningfully at her. "Excess modesty is but a guise for extreme hubris."

Evelyn smiled a dimpled smile at his gentle teasing. "Would you be more likely to believe me if I said I haven't been here long enough to do anything to earn such admiration?"

"You don't want to be liked?"

"Oh I want their good opinion-- if I've earned them. I just think I'm favored at the moment because I'm a stranger. There's nothing more exciting than something new, I think."

His lips parted as he almost smiled. Almost. "Novelty, without substance, quickly loses its appeal."

"Precisely."

"You don't believe you possess substance?"

"I cannot judge that of myself."

"True, but most young ladies, love to be immersed with constant adoration," he said. "Deserved or not."

Evelyn laced her long tapered fingers together and pulled on them nervously. This was the oddest conversation she's ever had with a stranger. And this handsome man, whose name she still did not know, spoke to her as though they were they oldest of acquaintances. "I like my compliments to be deserved from those who know me well. Coming from strangers they are rather distressing."

"Distressing? Why?" he asked.

"Those who don't know me see but one attribute " Evelyn replied. It was becoming harder and harder for her to keep her voice steady and her thoughts coherent under the steady scrutiny of this impossibly handsome, physically imposing, man. "They draw their opinions and conclusions based on my outward appearance alone. I shall be afraid to do or say anything out of fear of disturbing their admiration out of vanity. That would be most distressing as I hope never to disappoint anyone, least of all myself."

He rocked back on his heels a bit. "Isn't that why you're here?" he asked. "To be scrutinized for your physical attributes? Isn't the Season designed for your sex to flaunt your pretty figures to be judged and admired for the sake of this marriage market?"