Free Rakehell's Widow by Sandra Heath

before felt this way.”
    Alabeth glanced at Jillian as she rose from the stool and once again took Lord Gainsford’s arm. “I wish you well, Charles,” she said softly, “but I swear she does not deserve you.”
    “She is the most perfect of creatures,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes off Jillian as she left the room on Lord Gainsford’s arm. “I adore her with all my heart and know that there is no other bride for me.”
    Alabeth said nothing more, but she felt very sad, for she was sure that Charles was destined for nothing but heartbreak, for Jillian was completely indifferent to him.
     

Chapter 9
     
    On the third of June, the Duke of Grafton’s horse Tyrant won the Derby with great ease, and Octavia returned in triumph from Epsom, not only having picked the winner but also having scored a notable success at an EO table. After such an excellent day, she had no doubt at all that her ball would be similarly memorable, as indeed it was.
    The day dawned sweet and clear, and as it was the King’s birthday, the carriages thronging London’s streets were decorated with sprays of flowers, the coachmen and footmen adorning their hats with similar sprays. There was only one cloud on Octavia’s horizon, and that was the fact that she was summoned to Court during the afternoon, and this necessitated an unfashionable step back in time of nearly fifty years, the King and Queen always insisting that hooped skirts, high headdresses, painted faces, and a great many diamonds were the only suitable fashion for such an occasion. Octavia had squeezed herself into the obligatory sedan chair, her skirts folded around her and her head bowed to protect the ridiculously high confection of wig and feathers, and she had been borne to St. James’s, feeling excessively conspicuous, for she attracted too much unwelcome attention from the vulgar—usually an unbridled mirth which made her fume at the monarch’s refusal to move with the times. However, the ordeal behind her, she returned to Seaham House and the prepar ations for the ball began in earnest.
    At the Wallborough house in Berkeley Square things were a great deal quieter, neither Alabeth nor Jillian having any other engagements before the ball. Alabeth had kept a wary eye on Jillian, but nothing untoward had occurred and there had, mercifully, been no other en counters with Piers Castleton. Jillian had conducted herself with reasonable decorum, although her manner toward poor Charles Allister was still cool and offhand. Only one thing caused Alabeth some alarm, and that was the receipt of a brief note from the steward at Wall borough, informing her that he would come up to London at the first opportunity as he had something to communi cate to her which he would prefer not to set down on paper. This served to confirm to Alabeth that she had been right to be suspicious, and it made her very guarded where Jillian’s movements were concerned, that young lady frequently complaining that she doubted if anyone else in Town was being subjected to such rigorous rules and regulations. Alabeth knew she was being a little too strict and tried very hard to relax, but it was really very difficult when she found herself thinking time and time again of the Captain Francis affair and how Jillian had deliberately thwarted the basic rules of behavior in order to be with him. Jillian seemed to be behaving herself, however, obviously determined not to provoke Alabeth into refusing to go to the ball and thus preclude any chance of seeing the great Zaleski play.
    The Count’s arrival in Town had been greeted with a great flurry of excitement among the ladies, reports reach ing Alabeth of his incredible good looks and charming manners. He was declared to be quite irresistible and was the object of much adoration, it being the ambition of a large number of ladies to secure him as a lover. Alabeth listened to all this a little skeptically, finding it hard to believe that any one man could be