*Ben* I have always enjoyed spending time at the Twin Dragons, especially after the owner, opened the place up to women. The establishment offers gambling, a ballroom, a dining room, a gathering room for all members, and an assortment of areas designated for only men or only women. So one can mix with the fairer sex if one is of a mind or seeks less exciting company. I opt for the less exciting company. More than that, I opt for a less exciting activity: sitting in the gentlemen’s room and indulging in scotch. I could have done the same in my own library. I gave a game of cards a go, but I had quickly become bored with the task. Generally I relish pitting my skills against others’ talents, but I found myself constantly wishing that Skye were sitting beside me. With her ability not to give anything away, I suspect she would come away with a good portion of the winnings. It is the fact that she is so good at not revealing herself that makes me know something is amiss in New York. I
*Skye* While Ben left me feeling sated, I have been unable to fall asleep after he left. I have rung for Cullie and dressed for dinner, although I do not much like dining alone. Now feeling rather like a wraith, I wander through the hallways striving to get a better sense of the place. The difference between this residence and the country one is striking. Not a single door is locked. I don’t need keys to access anything. Every room, even the ones not in use, holds flowers. But they don’t hold what I am truly searching for: company. I miss Ben, damn it all. Something about the night makes me all the more lonely and bereft, makes me question if I should be here not so much in New York, but with him. While living in New York, I harbored so many dreams of love. Once I left, I thought I would give up on them, but they are working hard to surface. The love of my child would be enough to sustain me, or so I hoped, because I am finding myself yearning for the love of a man. I make my wa
*Ben* She is mine. I almost say aloud the words that reverberate through my soul. She belongs to me in the same manner that clouds belong to the sky and leaves to the trees and ore to the earth, part and parcel, a piece of the whole. I am not one for poetry, yet for her I wish I had the ability to write sonnets. I wish I had met her at a ball, had courted her properly with flowers, strolls, and rides in the park. But romantic gestures are as foreign to me as love. I have never wanted emotional entanglements, yet I can’t deny that she has the ability to tie me up in knots. Sliding my mouth from hers, I graze my lips along the underside of her chin, relishing her soft moan. She is so quick to burn. I love that about her. From the beginning she has never played hard to get in the bedchamber. She welcomes me, responds, and gives back. Is it possible to love things about a person without loving the person? So many things about her brings me pleasure. The way she laughs. The way her ey
*Skye* I should have made an excuse to avoid coming to New York, but the truth is that sooner or later, I have to return and confront my demons. Sooner is better; I need to get it behind me. I ask the driver to take me to a dressmaker's … one of the more posh establishments that cater to rich upper east side ladies, according to the gossip pages … and tell him to return for me in four hours. Once I'm fitted for a lilac ball gown and another blue gown, I walk out and hire a taxi to bring me to the outskirts of New York. I regret that the blue gown won't look exactly like the one before it, but what I described to the seamstress doesn't look quite right when she finished sketching it out. Still, I can't risk going to Lola, the woman I used before, I can't take a chance on someone recognizing me, spreading the word that I'm here, and the truth of my past coming to light. Lola's clients don't include noble ladies, but those for whom she does sew clothing keep quite a few aristocratic
*Skye* "I like your new blue gown," Ben says. Tugging on my gloves at the dressing table, I glance over to my husband standing in the doorway that joins our two bedchambers. Dressed in his evening finery that includes a black swallow-tailed coat and waistcoat, a pristine white shirt and a light gray tie, he's no doubt the most handsome man I have ever laid eyes on. "It's not exactly like the one before it," I say, wondering how it is that after all these months he still manages to take my breath away. "Close enough. A shame your previous seamstress closed up shop." He says softly. I recall the small lie I had told to explain why I was going to a different dressmaker. "I like the new one I have found." "Good." His stride is slow, lazy, as he approaches. "Also a shame you must wear gloves." "It's a proper ball. A proper lady wears proper gloves to a proper ball." As though to demonstrate, I give a gentle tug on the end of each glove where it rests just above my elbow. We have
*Ben* As a husband, I of course have the right to sit beside my wife in the car, but I prefer sitting across from her because it affords me the opportunity to gaze on her more fully, to watch her more closely. Every now and then, the light from the streetlamps we pass reflects off the pearls. I bought them because I wanted to lavish her with gifts, wanting her to have everything she has ever desired. It's crushing me to realize how much I care for her. She looks gorgeous in the blue. Whenever she looks at me, there is always a sultriness to her gaze that causes my body to react as though she has stripped herself bare. But it's more than the sex that appeals to me. It's her generosity of spirit, the way she's uncomfortable accepting something as simple as pearls. Those who meet her tonight will be captivated. She can hold her own. Of that, I have no doubt. “It didn’t occur to me to ask if you dance,” I say. Her lips curl up into a soft smile. “I attended a country dance or two.
*Skye* During the entire journey down the interminable flight of stairs, I not only see but feel all the eyes coming to bear on me and fear someone will discern the truth and yell out, "Fake, liar, deceiver."But I hear only quiet murmurings, spot an eyebrow or two raised in curiosity. I straighten my spine, lift my chin. I've spent a good deal of my life playing a role. No reason to stop now.As I step onto the floor, Ben leads me over to the Duke and Duchess of Northingdon, who are greeting their guests. They are a handsome couple, the duke as dark-haired as my own husband, the duchess with hair a much more pleasant shade of red than my own. I have always felt mine is too fiery, too harsh… perhaps because my father thought it a sign that I was possessed by the devil."It's such a pleasure to meet you," the duchess says with a kind smile."I'm honored," I say, dipping into a deep curtsy."Where did you find such a treasure, Ben?" the duke asks."My father introduced us. I could not
*Ben* I am not jealous. I have always known that men would want to dance with her, and I have even encouraged her to dance with other partners. So this irrational need coursing through me to rip off limbs whenever a man takes her in his arms is not jealousy. I don't know what it is, other than dark and irritating. "Here, drink this," Tom orders. "You look as though you are on the verge of murdering someone." I glance over at the glass containing amber liquid, take it, and enjoy a long swallow. "Where did you find that?" "Card room. So who has earned your ire?" He asks. I don't know if the man has earned it. "Sheridan." "Ah, dancing with Skye, I see." He grins. And before Sheridan, it had been Avendale, who everyone knows is madly in love with his wife. No danger there of him seeking a dalliance with Skye, and even if he did, she would decline. If there is one thing regarding my wife of which I am absolutely convinced, it is her loyalty. "You made quite the splash with your arr