Cerynise didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All she needed was to be fitted and measured by a seamstress. That would definitely raise havoc. But her dear, sweet scholarly uncle was so concerned about her that he imagined a new gown would be effective in bringing her out of her doldrums. She knew he couldn’t have recited more than one or two facts about feminine fashions, but he was offering to spend his own money and time escorting her to dressmakers with the hope that it would somehow make her feel better.
Cerynise smiled at him gently. “I’d love to go with you, Uncle Sterling, but perhaps we could visit some bookstores instead. I’m just not feeling in a mood to shop for material or fret over fashions right now.”
Her uncle’s relief was obvious enough to make her laugh in appreciation for the sacrifice he had been willing to make on her behalf. Soon he left for his appointment, but only after wringing a promise from her that she’d eat something. Barely had she sampled the smallest portion of a hominy cake than her stomach rebelled. She just managed to get to her room in time, but afterwards, she felt so weak she had to lie down. Finally her nausea faded, and she began to move about in a halfhearted quest to get ready.
When Uncle Sterling arrived a little more than an hour later, Cerynise was waiting for him in the entrance hall. She had garbed herself in a pale blue woolen gown trimmed with brown velvet cording and a wide band collar of the same hue. It was the only one among her day dresses loose enough to allow her to forgo wearing a corset. Since there was only a slight nip in the air, she had shunned the idea of wearing a cloak and, instead, had draped a large, enveloping cashmere shawl of pale blue and brown paisley around her shoulders. Over her neatly coiled coiffure, she had tied a pert blue bonnet handsomely arrayed with pheasant feathers. Although the converse was true, her smile suggested that she hadn’t a care in the world.
“You’re ready!” Uncle Sterling exclaimed, pleased that she was looking so winsome. Gallantly he offered his arm. “Shall we?”
The day fairly sparkled beneath a clear sky, while the air was imbued with just enough scent of the approaching spring to tantalize the senses. Everywhere Cerynise looked, she espied finely garbed men and women making their way in and out of shops. They were certainly eloquent testimony to the prosperity of Charleston. Some, she guessed, were from nearby plantations, others perhaps from the area near the mills nestled on the Ashley River or from places much farther afield. Her ears caught enunciations with a northern twang amid the leisured drawls of the Carolina inhabitants. There was also evidence of Europeans aplenty everywhere they went. After living in a city as immense as London, Cerynise could hardly think of Charleston as a great metropolis, yet it had a charm all of its own. Most of its citizens seemed to combine a love of adventure with shrewd business sense and genuine southern hospitality, which certainly made shopping an affable experience. Cerynise found herself involved in more than a few delightful little chitchats with store owners and clerks. Their discussions ranged anywhere from passing comments on their balmy March weather to lighthearted observations on the various plays presently being performed at the local theaters. After catching herself laughing in response to some witty remark, it dawned on her that merely being out and about had helped considerably to lift her spirits.
Or at least it had until she rounded a corner with her uncle in time to see an elegant carriage roll to a halt in front of a shop belonging to one of Charleston’s most renowned couturiers, one Madame Feroux. A tall, broad-shouldered man alighted and held out a hand to assist his female companion in her descent. The young lady was of such doll-like beauty Cerynise might have stared in admiration had she not recognized her own husband serving as the woman’s escort. From then on, she was helplessly caught in the throes of acute despondency with a fair amount of jealousy blended in.
Beau’s teeth flashed whitely in sharp contrast to his darkly burnished skin as he threw back his head and laughed at whatever the ravishing creature had said. He was exceptionally well garbed and looked every bit the Carolina aristocrat that he was. Indeed, no London dandy could have matched his debonair appearance. His fine, charcoal gray swallowtail coat was set off to perfection by thinly striped gray trousers and a shawl-collared vest made in a wider, complementary striped silk. A rich, waffled-silk cravat of pearl-gray was a stunning addition to his elegant garb. The fact that it was neatly in place beneath the stiff collar of his white shirt led Cerynise to wonder morosely if his little friend had had anything to do with its natty appearance. His dark gray top hat was angled jauntily upon his dark head, and if anything, his dashing good looks were even more striking than before. The petite brunette evidently thought so too, for she swayed against him, brushing her small bosom against his arm as she smiled up at him enchantingly and lightly touched a hand to his broad chest.
“Really, Beau,” she warbled, “where are your manners? Surely, it isn’t too much for me to expect that you—” She broke off abruptly when she realized she no longer had his attention. In sudden confusion, she followed his gaze to the source of his distraction, and for the briefest of moments her dark eyes chilled in arrogant displeasure as she appraised the tawny-haired beauty at whom he stared.
Beau stepped aside, deftly detaching himself from the brunette, which by no means was an easy task since she had actually taken hold of his lapel. Smiling, he tipped his hat gallantly to his wife. “A pleasure to see you again, Cerynise.”
Beau doubted that he had ever uttered a more truthful greeting in all of his life. He hadn’t seen her since the day he had stalked out of her uncle’s house, but it couldn’t be said that he hadn’t thought of her, for he definitely had. Constantly, in fact. The time during which they had been apart had been an agony of memories running over and over in his mind. When he had helped Sterling Kendall load her belongings in a carriage, every instinct within him had goaded him to ask news of her, but his stubborn pride hadn’t allowed him to do so. She had seemed so adamant about getting the annulment that he had hoped to assuage his anger by totally ignoring her, even to the point of refusing to visit his lawyer, which would have awakened his ire all over again. What he had deemed as suitable punishment for her had resulted in a living hell for himself. Thus, it came as no surprise to him to realize just how much her appearance delighted him. Indeed, his eyes feasted on her with ravenous hunger, and it was almost a full moment before he remembered that she, too, had an escort.
“Professor Kendall, how nice it is to see you again.”
“And you,” Sterling responded, cheerfully unaware of the emotional currents running between his niece and the captain. Not so the pocket Venus. When a man perused another woman in her presence the way Beau Birmingham was doing at this precise moment, her hackles were inclined to rise like those of an enraged feline. She had never been confronted with a situation in which she had to share a man’s attention with another female, for she was quite popular and had many admirers, to the extent that she could pick and choose her escorts. The fact that Beau Birmingham, the most reticent toward her, was probably the richest and, to be sure, the most handsome among Charleston’s male populace only solidified her objective of wooing him into matrimony. This tawny-haired Aphrodite whom he zealously perused was unmistakably a rival she’d definitely have to dispense with in one fashion or another.
The brunette tugged on Beau’s sleeve in an effort to break his unwavering stare. He seemed startled as he glanced around, and for barely a moment he looked at her as if he hadn’t the slightest idea who she was. Abruptly recalling his manners, he hastened to make the introductions. “Cerynise, this is Miss Germaine Hollingsworth. Germaine, I’m sure you remember Cerynise Kendall from your—”
Germaine managed a small frown and blinked her long lashes in a close resemblance of confusion as she looked up at him. “No, Beau, I’m afraid I don’t.”
He was taken aback by surprise. “I’m sorry. I just assumed your paths had crossed at some point in time.”
It was a reasonable conjecture, considering that Germa
ine was only a year or two older than his wife, and as much as the brunette denied it, his premise was correct. Cerynise recalled her only too well. The pampered Miss Hollingsworth had attended the same academy to which most of the wealthy families and parents with more of a professional scholarly bent sent their daughters to be instructed in a manner suitable for young ladies. Germaine had been one of those who had enjoyed tormenting a somewhat gawky twelve-year-old who had failed to believe the world revolved around bonnets and beaus. More than once in the presence of Germaine and her friends, Cerynise had been made the target of tongues that could have flailed the hide off an alligator. Yet, at the approach of an attractive male, those same young ladies had had the ability to mask their shrewish dispositions with chameleon-like swiftness and drip sweet honey with every syllable they uttered.
“Beau, dear, we really mustn’t linger,” Germaine coyly pressed. “You did promise…”
“To give you a ride to Madame Feroux’s.” He swept his hand to indicate the shop behind them. “And you have arrived.”
“Silly me.” Germaine laughed and tossed her elegantly coifed head as if embarrassed by such a foolish mistake. “Why, I hardly noticed where we were.” With a flutter of dark lashes, she looked up at Beau with a pleading expression that, in Cerynise’s mind, wouldn’t have been misplaced on a hungry wolf. “I always have such difficulty deciding what looks best on my tiny frame, and everyone says that you have the most divine taste, Beau, so I was wondering if you could assist—”
“I’m afraid not.” He didn’t even look at Germaine as he answered, for his gaze was fastened on Cerynise, who found herself unwillingly fascinated by the other woman’s charming endeavors.
Germaine’s pretty mouth tightened, but she was not about to relent. “Why, Beauregard Birmingham, how can you be so nasty to little ol’ me? I’ve heard rumors about you being a tough sea captain, but you’re also supposed to be a gentleman, and a gentleman would never deny a lady’s—”
“Am I?” he queried in distraction.
“Are you what?” Germaine asked petulantly.
“A gentleman?” Although the question seemed primarily addressed to Germaine, he never looked away from his wife. “Would you say that to be true, Cerynise?”
Cerynise was distantly aware of Uncle Sterling eyeing them both fairly closely now, no doubt bewildered by her high blush and the sudden trembling that had beset her. She was averse to praising her husband in front of the little coquette and answered him as diplomatically as she could. “Were you not one, sir, you’d certainly be unwilling for me to announce that fact,” she rejoined, her voice sounding faint in her own ears. “And yet, if I were to laud your character for your companion’s benefit, I wonder where that would lead.” To bed? Cerynise dolefully wondered.
Sensing her tension, Uncle Sterling cleared his throat. “Are you planning to remain in Charleston very long, Captain Birmingham?”
“Perhaps a bit longer than usual, Professor Kendall. I have important matters that need my close attention.” The fact that his gaze shifted from the man to Cerynise seemed to indicate that she was at the forefront of those important matters. “I should still be here well into mid-summer, if not longer.”
Sterling was growing more bemused by the moment. “Has your fascination with the sea waned, then?”
The wide shoulders lifted in a brief shrug. “I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I have other interests that have plagued me much of late, and I’d like them settled one way or the other before I’ll even think of leaving.”
Cerynise was certain that he was referring to their annulment, but he could hardly blame her for the delay. For more than a month now she had been expecting papers to arrive and had recently begun to suspect that they wouldn’t. Beau could hardly have forgotten about their marital division, but then, when he was so dedicated to remaining a bachelor, he probably thought he had all the time in the world. He’d have been shocked to learn differently.
Germaine was ecstatic over the idea of his lengthy stay. “Oh, Beau, it would be so nice to have you around Charleston for a change. I really think you’d love attending the Spring Ball this year, and since I’m still available…well, we can talk about that later. Still, I’ve always thought that sailing off to all those other countries must be terribly dangerous. Every time you leave, I wonder if you’ll be coming back. Now I won’t have to worry, at least for a while.”
“I doubt that we’d he standing where we are today if our forefathers had been afraid of danger,” Beau replied distantly, again without the slightest flicker in the woman’s direction.
“I do hope your business here proceeds smoothly, Captain,” Cerynise murmured, and couldn’t resist a gentle prodding to remind him that their annulment was something that he was supposed to arrange. “Perhaps you’ve been so busy lately that you’ve forgotten about Mr. Farraday.”
“Mr. Farraday?” Germaine began, her brows gathering in perplexity. “Does she mean the solicitor?”
The woman received no answer, for none of the others was paying her any heed. Uncle Sterling was far too absorbed eyeing his niece and the captain. Cerynise could only stare in helpless fascination as Beau’s lean jaw tightened dangerously. At present, he was looking at her so coldly that, had he been a dastardly pirate, she might have found herself run through. She could hardly ignore the fact that she had vexed him again, but she wasn’t at all sure how she had done so. He had been talking about the annulment, hadn’t he?
“Henceforth, I’ll be certain to assure Mr. Farraday’s speed in all matters, Miss Kendall,” Beau answered coolly. “Now good day to you both.” With a curt nod to her uncle, he slipped a hand beneath Germaine’s arm and escorted the delightfully surprised creature into the shop.
Uncle Sterling hesitated a moment before offering his own arm to Cerynise. When she continued to stare blankly in the direction in which the pair had gone well after they had disappeared into the shop, he took her hand and slipped it gently within the crook of his elbow. She walked stiltedly, rather like a lifeless doll, as he drew her along with him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about those papers, my dear. Are you sure the annulment is what you want?”
Cerynise was still very much in a daze and didn’t hear a word he said. She could only rebuke herself harshly for driving Beau not only away from her but straight into the clutches of Germaine Hollingsworth. Where he was concerned, it seemed she could only act the part of a complete simpleton. When she foolishly, systematically destroyed every chance that she had of keeping what she truly, desperately wanted in life, it was obvious to her that she was hell-bent on her own destruction and misery.
As if to emphasize her distress, her stomach began to roil very strangely. Completely shocked by what she was feeling, Cerynise gasped softly and swayed on her feet, coming very near to buckling to her knees. Sterling caught her arm and looked at her in sudden concern. Her pale, drawn face was enough to convince him. He raised a hand to summon a hired livery and quickly handed her in.
“If this continues, my dear,” he said as the carriage rattled along the cobbled street, “I shall insist that you see my physician.”
Cerynise shook her head and turned her face toward the window to hide her tears. “I’m fine. Really. I just got too warm, I guess.”
Her uncle murmured something about it not being very warm at all outside, but he didn’t pursue the topic any further. He was beginning to have his suspicions, and he was not above laying the blame on Captain Birmingham.
When they reached the house, Cerynise excused herself and went up to her room to rest. She doffed her gown and shoes before stretching out upon her bed. With a feeling of awe, she moved her hands slowly over her abdomen, where a definite curve was beginning to form. How long since that single night of love? Four months, give or take a week? At least long enough for the movements of the baby to become strong and sure. All of her efforts to withhold herself from Beau after that one brief episode had been for naught. His seed had already found ferti
le ground, and in her womb she was carrying part of him, possibly the only part she would ever be allowed to keep. It wouldn’t be long now before people began to notice her ever-growing belly and began to whisper snide comments. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to beg Beau to give up his freedom for the sake of their child. It was a choice he’d have to make on his own.
It was a long, sleepless night. Cerynise spent most of it wondering how best to proceed with motherhood. She finally decided that it would probably be better for herself and her baby if she moved away to another southern city where she wouldn’t be known and where she could make a pretense of being a young widow. She had gotten with child while married, except that it was the death of that union that would leave her greatly bereaved. Once she was settled, she could start painting again and hopefully sell her work surreptitiously as she had done before. If things went well, it wouldn’t take her long to establish a life for herself and be fairly situated before her baby was born the middle of August.
It was late the next morning when she finally went downstairs with a smock covering her gown, which had become a necessity. Since her uncle was engrossed in writing a book about the ancient Greeks, she fully expected him to be secluded in his study, where he usually worked. The study doors were closed, and with a wavering sigh of thankfulness, she went into the small morning room just off the kitchen. Her stomach was no calmer now than it had been in recent days, and she wondered if her lingering nausea was due in part to her wrought-up emotions. She had heard of women suffering from queasiness even into the later stages of their pregnancy, but she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be true in her case. Knowing that she had to force herself to eat for the sake of her child, she took a small serving of eggs and biscuit onto her plate and had made only minute progress when Cora entered.
“Your pardon, Miss Cerynise, but this package arrived for you earlier this morning.”
Elusive Flame Page 30