Page 15 of To Dance with a Devil

― Excerpt of an entry from Lady Helena Adolphus to her diary.

2nd October 1814. Holbrooke House, Sussex.

The wedding was an informal affair, though the small family chapel seemed full to the rafters with Jasper and Harriet’s closest friends. The Peculiar Ladies, or whatever they were called were out in force and Jerome was disquieted to acknowledge something disturbingly close to jealousy as he watched his brother and Harriet exchange their vows. Whatever had caused such animosity between them over the past years was well and truly dead and buried, and it was apparent to everyone that this was a love match. Their happiness was tangible, infecting all present judging from the laughter and smiles of all the guests.

Jerome glanced over at Bonnie to see her laughing at something her friend Alice said to her. Alice was with child, according to the gossip, and going on adoring way her husband saw to her comfort, they were both well pleased with themselves. Alice and her husband did not see the look in Bonnie’s eyes as she turned away, though. They didn’t see the effort it took her to compose herself, to force the sorrow from her expression and put another smile in its place. They didn’t see, but Jerome did.

He made his way through the crowd to her, ignoring her warning look.

“Marry me,” he said in an undertone, not bothering to list all the reasons they must. She knew them as well as he did.

She jolted at his words and then glared up at him.

“Did you not see the way your brother looked at Harriet?” she asked him, low enough not to be heard by anyone else but still fierce and angry. “If ever you look at me like that, I’ll marry you in a heartbeat, but you never will. That’s not your fault, and I’m not blaming you for it, but I’m tired of being where I’m not wanted, can you not understand that? If I marry, I want it to be because my husband can’t live without me, not because he’s tumbled me once or twice and feels he ought to. For once in my life I want to belong somewhere, and if I can’t have that, I’ll belong to myself, at least. Now go away before we cause another scene and make your mother cross.”

He watched her stalk away, torn between hurt and guilt. Looking up, Jerome caught Jasper watching him, concern in his eyes, and heat prickled over him. It was Jasper’s wedding day; the least he could do was behave as he ought and not cause any further worry.

“Jerome, darling, look who I found.”

Jerome looked around at the sound of his mother’s voice and wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Lady Helena being thrust under his nose again. His mother had decided the two of them would deal admirably together, and she would do her best to make it happen. Jerome could see why she’d think they’d go well together, too. Helena was an exquisite girl, bright and vivacious. She seemed a restless creature, always in motion, and no doubt his mother thought such a woman would suit him as he was easily bored. Jerome could tell she wasn’t interested in him, though, and couldn’t summon the will to care. Now, in the light of yet another rejection from Bonnie, he wondered if perhaps he ought to try harder.

“Lady Helena,” he said, smiling as he greeted her. “How lovely to see you again.”

***

Bonnie did her very best to endure the wedding breakfast with a smile on her face. Harriet was her friend, after all, and Bonnie was so pleased for her. It was a joy to see the happiness shining from her and yet it only made Bonnie ache with sadness. The temptation to just accept Jerome’s offer had become so fierce that she’d had to force herself to sound angry and storm away, hoping to offend him enough that he’d stay clear. What she’d said had been the truth, though, and every time she thought of facing Lady St Clair on Jerome’s arm when he told her they would be married, Bonnie flushed hot and cold in quick succession. His mother would know why they were marrying and believe that Bonnie had set out to trap him, and she’d hate Bonnie forever for having done so. No more than Bonnie would hate herself though.

Yet now, after refusing him again, she had to endure the sight of Jerome and Lady Helena in animated conversation. They’d been seated beside each other—naturally, as his mother had arranged the wedding herself. She was a very beautiful girl with thick dark hair and the most extraordinary green eyes. They were a deep, dark green, like a pine forest, not the pale uncertain colour of Bonnie’s. Helena’s eyes and dark colouring showed her kinship to her brother, the Duke of Bedwin, but there the resemblance ended. Helena was slender and elegant and wherever she went her adoring entourage of male admirers followed her. Soon, it appeared, Jerome would be added to their ranks.

Bonnie gritted her teeth and looked away, telling herself not to be so stupid and fickle. Hadn’t she told him to marry Helena? What did she think, that she could keep telling the man no and telling him to leave her be, and that he’d keep running back for more? No. No, she thought nothing of the sort, because she knew he didn’t love her, and he didn’t really want to marry her. Oh, she was good enough to take his pleasure with if she offered him, he was a man after all, but still… it would have been nice to have been proven wrong for once.

For the rest of the day Bonnie endured, laughing and smiling and doing her best to appear happy and carefree. The newlyweds had slipped away, not that Bonnie blamed them one bit, and all the guests were in good spirits, so they had moved the furniture back and the rugs were rolled up. Alice had offered to play piano and now an impromptu dance saw everyone celebrating the day with a great deal of amusement. Lady St Clair kept the champagne flowing, and her eye on her son and Lady Helena. Jerome was dancing with her now, the two of them making a handsome picture with his golden hair and her dark beauty.

“Hasn’t it been a lovely day?” Matilda said, slipping her arm through Bonnie’s.

“Oh, yes, lovely,” Bonnie agreed, though she wanted to shake her head and cry and tell Matilda that it had been the worst and longest day of her life. That, however, would be churlish and inappropriate. As she watched Jerome whirl Helena around the floor, Bonnie knew she knew had reached the limits of what she could endure. “Would you excuse me, Tilda?” She smiled at her friend. “I’m dying of thirst. I must just get myself a drink.”

Matilda nodded and Bonnie ignored the concern in her eyes. Matilda was such a lovely woman, always concerned with all of them, mothering them all and wanting them to be happy, but there was nothing she could do. It was a stupid situation, and one of Bonnie’s own making. She’d known from the beginning Jerome was out of her reach, and yet they’d had such fun together that she’d let herself forget. Well, it had been wonderful while it lasted, and now it was over.

She hurried over to the refreshments table and helped herself to some lemonade. Strangely, she didn’t feel like champagne tonight. The thought of drowning her sorrows and allowing the alcohol to numb everything was an appealing one, but her stomach rebelled at the idea. Once she had a drink in hand, so Matilda didn’t think her a liar, she escaped from the room and wandered out into the hallway.

What a vast place it was. Though she’d been here for some weeks, Bonnie had only seen a fraction of the palatial building. Jerome had taken her exploring a couple of times, but the weather had been so fine they’d both preferred to be out of doors. He had shown her the picture gallery, though, and told her stories of some of his ancestors, playing the fool for her before a portrait of a very sombre looking old man who had glowered down from the walls at them, as though he knew full well they were up to no good.

The illustrious heritage Jerome could claim had only magnified the gulf between them, but she’d been too happy in his company to worry. Goodness, had that only been a few weeks ago? Why had she spoiled their friendship by seducing him? Yet, despite everything, she couldn’t find it in her heart to regret it, nor the fierce coupling under the great oak tree. Those were memories she would cherish when she was alone and far away, and no one could take them from her.

Well, then. Bonnie shook off such maudlin thoughts and returned her attention to discovery and adventure. She would explore and take her mind off the wretched mood she was in, like a character in some Gothic novel. Perhaps she was no waiflike heroine, but she was an orphan and in something of a pickle as they often were, and maybe there were no mad monks or evil villains pursuing her, but she had imagination enough to cope with that. The rather intimidating atmosphere of the vast house would provide plenty of inspiration.

She remembered then what Harriet had told her about there being a ghost. St Clair’s great-great-grandfather had rebuilt the west wing and put a kitchen over the original chapel. The story went that he’d been punished for it by being forced to walk the corridors on stormy nights. It wasn’t quite dark yet, a glorious sunset lighting up the sky beyond the windows, and there was no sign of a storm, but soon enough the light would fade, and the house would be full of shadows.

The sombre tale and the gathering gloom rather suited Bonnie’s mood, and so she set off in search of a spectre.

***

Jerome watched Bonnie climb the staircase and frowned. He knew full well that she was unhappy, and he was miserably aware that it was his fault. Perhaps she had thrown herself at him that first time, but she’d not held a gun to his head, and he’d not had to give in. She’d been full of excitement after their adventure, not to mention having had a glass of brandy. Not drunk, perhaps, but she was unused to strong liquor and he ought to have allowed for that. It had been up to him to act the gentleman. He was the experienced one, he ought to have known he was opening Pandora’s box the first time his lips had touched hers, but he’d been helpless to resist. God, how feeble that sounded. Yet, when the two of them were together, something combustible happened. Though he knew he ought to keep away, as she’d asked, it was killing him to see the spark that had drawn him to Bonnie in the first place snuffed out. It was suddenly imperative that he make her smile, that he make her laugh and bring that wicked glint back to her eyes.

Hurrying up the stairs after her, Jerome pursued Bonnie, realising she was heading to the west wing, far away from her own room. No doubt the curious cat had gone exploring.

Grinning to himself, Jerome decided he had just the thing.