Burning Bright (4 page)

She smoothed wrinkles out of the skirt of her apple-green gown and wished she had not given in to her mother’s cries of joy over the fabric. Elinor was certain her mother’s pleasure in her daughter’s Extraordinary talent began and ended with the fact that Elinor was no longer limited to wearing white muslin in public despite her youth and unmarried status. Her new wardrobe was filled with silks and satins Elinor believed were far more suited to a matron than to her.

They had argued over colors, insofar as Elinor was inclined to argue over something so superficial. Mrs. Pembroke had refused to consider any of the colors Elinor preferred on the grounds that they were too dark, too intense, too rich for a girl just out; when Elinor had pointed out she was, in fact, several years removed from the schoolroom, Mrs. Pembroke had said, “And
that
is precisely what we do not wish anyone to realize.” No doubt her mother’s greatest hope was that the three years since Elinor’s come-out had erased fashionable society’s memory of that awkward, unremarkable girl.

“Remember, Elinor, what we discussed,” Mr. Pembroke said. “You will be the object of much talk this evening; you must appear to be insensible of it. Demure, polite, respectful—many tonight will watch to see whether your Scorcher talent has made you wild and unbiddable. Stand up with anyone who requests the pleasure of a dance, but show no preference. It will not do for you to seem anxious to make an attachment on your first social appearance, especially so early in the season. There will be time enough for that when I have examined the aspirants to your hand in depth. This evening is for making you known to the fashionable world.”

“What of supper?” Elinor said. She had no idea of where she stood in precedence—did an Extraordinary Scorcher outrank a baroness?—and the thought of stumbling through the crowd and being pitied or scorned by everyone else made her cringe inside yet again.

“You have no need to fear. I will ensure you have a suitable partner when the time comes.”

Elinor nodded and lowered her eyes, certain she was the picture of serene young womanhood. Her stomach tried once again to turn itself inside out. She looked at her shoes, silvery-green to match her gown. It must be her imagination they felt so tight; they had fit very well when she’d tried them on two days ago.

They waited in line to be deposited at Lord Ormerod’s front door for twenty minutes, during which time Mrs. Pembroke chattered about Elinor’s prospects, and her gown, and her hair, and her jewels, and then about her prospects again until Elinor was certain she would be violently ill all over the carriage. She might even have welcomed illness if she hadn’t been equally certain her father would sponge her down and send her inside anyway. She swallowed hard and pretended to pay attention. This would not be so awful. Selina would be there, not all the men could be as horrible as she feared, and she did enjoy dancing. And her father would likely be far away from her for most of the evening. Not so awful, at all.

Lord Ormerod’s mansion stood several stories tall, all its windows golden with light. The house was full, though not so full as to require them to push their way through the crowd. Somehow Lord and Lady Ormerod were not present to greet them, though her parents seemed to think nothing of this social gaffe, and although Elinor heard her name announced, she did not think anyone farther than five feet away from the door did. She could cherish her anonymity for a few minutes more.

It was a beautiful house, or would have been had it not been so full of people. Elinor tried not to gape at the ornately carved tables and chairs, the paintings by famous masters, or the delicate marble statuary placed at random throughout the house as if Lord Ormerod or his wife simply had so many beautiful, expensive things they could leave them wherever they wanted. How her father had secured an invitation to this place baffled her.

She passed through hot, cramped rooms that smelled of sweat and perfume that attempted to cover the sweat, and emerged into the ballroom, its high ceiling rimmed with gilt and painted to resemble a midday sky. The clouds made an interesting
trompe l’oeil
effect, poised to drift across the ceiling and block the rays of an invisible sun, though the actual light was provided by three chandeliers shedding their sparkling brightness over the floor far below. Men in tightly-fitted coats and knee breeches vied with women in muslin and silk draped with gauze for the prize of having the most colorful garb. Elinor felt out of place, though her own gown was as fashionable as any. She always feared, at such gatherings, that she was seconds away from saying or doing something awkward that would make everyone stare in astonishment at her gaucherie. Her father’s presence at her elbow did nothing to ease her discomfort. Her gaze passed once more over the crowd, seeking out Selina. The ballroom was large enough to feel cool by comparison to the rest of the house, though it was lit with candles enough to—

—
to set the roof ablaze, make the wax run like clear-white liquid to rain on the parquet floor
—

—and Mr. Pembroke put his hand on the small of her back and urged her forward. “Do not be overwhelmed by this, daughter,” he whispered in her ear. “Your destiny is even grander.”

Elinor nodded. She dared not look up at the chandeliers again—three of them, who truly needed three chandeliers filled to bursting with the finest wax tapers?—but there was fire
everywhere
, lamps on the walls, candles above her head, and it pleaded with her to give it freedom. She clenched her fists and walled away her awareness of the fire. It could keep her anxieties company.

A tall woman gowned in maroon velvet and an equally tall man with an enormous pot belly approached them. “Mr. Pembroke, Mrs. Pembroke, welcome,” the woman said. “And this must be Miss Pembroke. I am Lady Ormerod. I am happy to meet you.” She did not seem happy. Her lips were white, as if she were holding in some strong emotion, and she did not offer Elinor her hand in greeting.

“Mr. Pembroke, such a pleasure!” The man, by contrast, held out his hand and pumped her father’s with enthusiasm. “And this must be your charming daughter—no, I mistake myself, Mrs. Pembroke, you look younger every time I see you!”

“Oh, my lord, you are
such
a charmer!” Mrs. Pembroke said, giggling and allowing the man to raise her hand to his lips.

“Miss Pembroke, may I introduce my husband, Lord Ormerod,” Lady Ormerod said.

Elinor bobbed a polite curtsey. Lord Ormerod raised a quizzing glass to his eye and surveyed her. “What an attractive young lady,” he said. “And not a trace of… that is to say, talent never shows itself on the skin, does it?”

“I believe not, my lord,” Elinor said, trying to sound demure, although what demure might sound like she had no idea.

“Very attractive indeed. Welcome to my home, Miss Pembroke, I am honored indeed to welcome you.” His welcome seemed genuine, but Elinor was conscious only of Lady Ormerod’s almost palpable tension and… yes, it was fear. The stomach-churning knot in her stomach clenched again.

“I am so happy you could join us this evening, Miss Pembroke,” Lady Ormerod said. “And such an…interesting…talent you have. I am sure I have never heard of its like.”

“My daughter is rare indeed, my lady,” Mr. Pembroke said, laying his hand on Elinor’s shoulder. “I hope you will make her feel welcome. She has little experience in society.”

Elinor went red with embarrassment. Fortunately, it seemed Lady Ormerod interpreted her scarlet cheeks differently. “Of course, I am certain she will be extremely popular, Mr. Pembroke,” she said, and her voice seemed fractionally warmer. “Miss Pembroke, allow me to make introductions for you.”

She guided Elinor around the ballroom so rapidly Elinor was unable to remember more than a few names, and barely able to apply those names to the correct faces. “Lord Landon… Mr. Fitzhenry… his Grace, the Duke of Wannisford… oh, Lord Adelburn, here is someone you
must
meet.” A short, heavyset young man turned to greet Lady Ormerod, then regarded Elinor with mild interest. “Miss Pembroke, this is the Earl of Adelburn.”

“Charmed,” the young man said. Elinor curtsied, then wondered if she had done it correctly, because he looked at her as if he expected something more. In the face of his inquiring stare, her carefully planned conversational gambits abandoned her. Lady Ormerod cleared her throat, and the Earl transferred his stare to her. “Oh,” he said. “Miss Pembroke, may I solicit your hand for the first two dances?”

“Ah… of course, Lord Adelburn,” Elinor stammered.

“If you’ll excuse me?” Lady Ormerod said with a smile, and retreated more rapidly than Elinor thought was good manners.

She turned her attention back to the Earl, whose inquiring stare had deepened. “I, ah, that is, my lord, I am afraid I know little of London society. Are you a frequent guest of Lord and Lady Ormerod’s?”

“On occasion,” Lord Adelburn replied. “I beg your pardon, but you’re the Scorcher girl, aren’t you?”

Elinor’s cheeks flamed again. “I would not refer to myself in quite that way, but yes.”

“Didn’t mean anything by it. I meant, you’re the one everyone’s talking about.”

“Are they?”

The musicians struck up the first dance, and Lord Adelburn offered Elinor his hand and led her to where the couples were gathering. “Talking of nothing else, it seems. What is an Extraordinary Scorcher talent, anyway?”

Elinor made her curtsey and reached to take his hand with her gloved one. “I am able to shape and extinguish flame as well as ignite it.”

“Is that all? That sounds uncomplicated.”

“I suppose it is.”

They made the next few passes in silence, and Lord Adelburn said, “I’m not good at making conversation.”

“Neither am I, my lord. Perhaps that makes us well suited as dancing partners?”

He laughed, an uncomfortable gulping sound. “Perhaps it does.” He had a pleasant smile, and Elinor responded in kind. This was not as terrible as she’d feared.

When their two dances were over, Lord Adelburn bowed to her, said, “You’re not what I expected,” and was gone before she could reply. Did he believe, as her father had suggested, she would be hoydenish, unmannered, and ungovernable, simply because she could shape fire? She did not know what was more unsettling, the young Earl’s ignorance or Lady Ormerod’s fear. She moved off into the crowd. Surely Selina would be here somewhere. Her sister had a lively sense of humor and had buoyed her spirits so many times during that first, disastrous season. And she had promised to find Elinor unsuitable partners.

Then Lady Ormerod was at her elbow again, saying, “My dear, here is someone you simply must meet,” and once again Elinor was being led to join the line with barely enough time to learn her partner’s name. She danced, and was offered punch, and danced again, and while she was not exactly enjoying herself, she was forced to admit Mrs. Pembroke was correct; this was very different from her first, unsuccessful season.
Though I cannot imagine how Selina managed it, falling in love in a succession of crowded ballrooms. Oh, Selina, where are you?

“Miss Pembroke, I do hope you are enjoying yourself,” Lady Ormerod said. “May I make known to you Lord Huxley?”

“My lord,” Elinor said, curtsying, then looked up and had to look further up to meet the tall gentleman’s bright, merry blue eyes. He had a crooked smile that made him seem to be laughing at some private joke; if he was, it was not a cruel one. He bowed to her, his smile widening, and offered her his hand.

“Miss Pembroke,” he said, and his voice was deep and pleasant. “Dare I hope you will be my partner for the next two dances?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Elinor said, and found she was telling the truth. She was no romantic; she did not think Lord Huxley looked at her the way a lover might, but the admiration in his eyes told her that he saw her, and not her Extraordinary talent. She accepted his hand with more than usual pleasure.

“I hope you are enjoying London, Miss Pembroke,” Lord Huxley said as the music began. “The city has so much to offer.”

“I have not seen much of it as yet, my lord. We have been in town only seven days.”

“Do you enjoy the theater?”

“I have been only once or twice, my lord. I am afraid you will think me sadly provincial.”

He smiled that crooked smile at her. “I would only think that,” he said, “if I believed you did not intend to remedy that lack.”

“And you can make that judgment based on five minutes’ acquaintance?” She smiled back at him.

“I pride myself on my ability to read a man’s—or a woman’s—character in her eyes. Yours clearly indicate you have a daring soul.”

Elinor blushed. “Have I?”

“Indeed. Do not deny it; you have the appearance of a young woman who, when she is told ‘no,’ wants to know ‘why not?’ “

“I think you are mistaken, my lord. But I imagine you intend a compliment, so I thank you.”

“Do you believe it wrong for a woman to be inquisitive?”

“I believe inquisitiveness, in either sex, has merit in its place.”

Lord Huxley laughed. “Such a demure answer. You are not what I expected, Miss Pembroke.”

“You are not the first to tell me that this evening, my lord.”

“I think you must not know many other Scorchers, Miss Pembroke. They tend to be rather erratic in their conversation and actions. An Extraordinary Scorcher… the assumption is you must be even more like a Scorcher than a Scorcher, if you take my meaning. Yet you are quiet and polite, and you blush so prettily—yes, there it is again.” Elinor found herself unable to meet his gaze. “And yet I imagine who you truly are is somewhere in the middle of those extremes.”

“Forgive me, my lord, I am not accustomed to such frankness in conversation with someone to whom I have only just been introduced.” He was remarkably perceptive, was Lord Huxley, and she could not decide if that discomfited her or not.

“I meant no offense. I find you interesting, Miss Pembroke, and I fear I sometimes presume too much on a new acquaintanceship.”

“I am not offended, simply…you are the first tonight who has been willing to be so honest. I find I enjoy it.”