by Sandra Heath
“That wasn’t what I meant. That man thinks you and I are ...”
“Maybe he does, but in actual fact he merely wished us well for the future, and what harm is there in that?”
“But I’m the wrong Miss Richmond.”
He turned to face her. “Well, I’m the right Lord St. Clement, so he wasn’t entirely incorrect, was he?” He looked at her in amusement. “Would you like to go back in and explain his mistake?”
The thought of confronting the odious young man again was too much. “No, thank you very much,” she replied.
He offered her his arm, and they continued down Milsom Street in the direction of Pulteney Bridge.
William Grenfell’s balloon had vanished as they walked along Argyle Street, but the crush of traffic was as great as ever. There were so many pedestrians that Christina might never have noticed Jane hurrying from the direction of Great Pulteney Street toward the house—at least, she thought it was Jane, for the woman was the same height and build, had red hair, and was wearing a matching yellow pelisse and gown just like Jane’s; but as Christina and Robert reached the pavement outside number 14A, the shutters at Jane’s window were still closed, which could only mean that the lazybones occupant had yet to awaken.
Robert prepared to take his leave. “Until tonight, then, Miss Richmond.”
Still puzzled about thinking she’d seen her sister, Christina looked blankly at him. “Tonight?”
“I’ve been invited to dine with you.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Forgive me, I was thinking about something else. I was about to ask you to take a dish of tea with us, but I’m rather afraid my sister is still asleep.” She glanced again at the shuttered window.
“What a lie-a-bed she is, to be sure,” he replied, smiling. “Until tonight, Miss Richmond.” Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips.
A shiver of pleasure ran secretly through her. “Thank you for escorting me, my lord.”
“I enjoyed your company, Miss Richmond.”
“And I enjoyed yours, my lord.” Oh, how I enjoyed yours.
“Au revoir.” Bowing, he strolled off along the crowded pavement, and was soon lost from view.
Followed by Jenny, she went into the house, pausing in surprise as she saw Jane descending the staircase wearing the yellow muslin gown, having evidently divested herself of the matching pelisse.
Jane smiled. “Don’t look so startled, Christina, you did expect me to get up sometime today, didn’t you?”
“Have you just been out?” asked Christina, as Jenny hurried up the stairs to await her.
“Out? Good heavens, no, I’ve only just roused myself from my bed. Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that I thought ... Oh, it doesn’t matter. Is Father in the drawing room?”
“No, he’s gone out. A message was delivered from a Mr. Middlemiss. Apparently they were at Oxford together, and Mr. Middlemiss invited Father to lunch with him at the White Hart.”
Christina put the newspapers down on a console table. “I’ve just had the honor of Robert Temple’s company.”
“Should I be jealous?”
“Hardly.”
“How did you meet him?”
“Oh, we just bumped into each other. He escorted me to the circulating library, routed a disagreeable young man behind the counter, and walked me back here again.”
“Why didn’t you invite him in?”
“I was going to, but I thought you were still in bed. Your shutters are closed.”
“Are they?”
Christina looked at her a little incredulously. “Surely you noticed! After all, they are inclined to darken rooms somewhat.”
Jane smiled ruefully. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t have a clue what time it was when I woke up. I didn’t give it a second thought. I was still half-asleep when I had the tea Ellen brought me, and I practically dozed off when she was combing my hair. I was just going to sit in the garden for some fresh air, to liven myself up a little. Will you join me? I do so want to talk about the ball.”
“Of course. I’ll just go up and take off my bonnet and spencer.”
Gathering her skirts, Christina hurried up the stairs. She was just about to go into her own room when a movement in Jane’s caught her eyes. The shutters were still closed, but Ellen could be seen by the open wardrobe. She was just putting away the yellow pelisse.
Chapter Eleven
It was dark outside, and in her candlelit room Christina was dressed for the small dinner party she had no wish to attend. She’d considered pleading a headache in order to avoid seeing Robert and Jane together, but knew such a course was pointless. She was going to see them together a great deal from now on, and the sooner she became used to it, the better. But it wasn’t going to be easy.
She sat by the fire, the volume of Gil Blas open on her lap, but she gazed at the page without attempting to read. The firelight flickered over her, flashing deep purple through the amethysts at her ears and throat. She wore a cream velvet gown, trained, with a low square neckline and long tight sleeves, and there were more amethysts on the golden buckle of the belt immediately beneath her breasts.
Her dark hair was pinned into a loose knot at the back of her head, falling in a single heavy tress past the nape of her neck, and there was a hint of rouge on her cheeks and lips. Her lilac eyes were luminous in the soft light as she closed the book and leaned her head back against the chair. In the space of a single day her life had been inexorably changed, and nothing would ever be the same again; and all because she’d looked into Robert Temple’s gray eyes and lost her heart.
The minutes seemed to be ticking away so very slowly that she felt as if she’d been ready for hours. Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, she saw that it was a quarter to eight; Robert was expected at any time now.
Suddenly she heard Jane’s excited gasp, and the rustle of her apple-green taffeta gown as she hurried into the room. “Christina! He’s here!”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite sure.” Jane looked exquisite, her red hair in a Grecian knot and a froth of curls around her face. Her apple-green gown shimmered in the candlelight, the glass beads on the dainty petal sleeves flashing like diamonds. There were diamonds in her necklace and on the tall golden comb in her hair, and she carried a delicate white shawl, its ends knotted so that they swung when she moved.
There was a knock at the front door of the house, and the sound carried up the stairs. Jane’s breath caught nervously. “Oh, I feel quite sick with nerves again.”
“There’s no need,” said Christina, discarding the book and getting up. “Just think what it was like when you were with him last night at the ball. He had eyes only for you, and tonight will be the same.”
“You are sure he didn’t think anything untoward when he saw me dancing with William, I mean Mr. Grenfell, aren’t you?”
“Quite sure.”
Jane swallowed, pressing her palms against her skirts to steady herself. “Shall we go down, then?”
“If you’re ready.”
“I’m ready.” Jane smiled ruefully. “What would I do without you, Christina? You’re always here to comfort me, and I’m ashamed of how often I rely on you.”
Christina smiled. “What else is a big sister for?”
On impulse Jane hugged her tightly, then turned to go down.
As Christina followed, she glanced along the landing at Jane’s room, remembering how she’d seen Ellen putting the yellow pelisse away. “Jane ... ?”
“Yes?” Jane paused on the stairs, looking quizzically at her.
Christina drew back from the question, for now wasn’t the time. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What is it?”
“It really doesn’t matter. Come on, or the gentlemen will wonder what’s become of us.”
They proceeded down the stairs to the drawing room, where Robert had been shown into Mr. Richmond’s presence. Mr. Richmond was in fine fettle because of the excellent way thing
s were going where the betrothal was concerned. He wore a new burgundy coat and black silk breeches, and looked particularly well.
Robert wore an indigo velvet coat, and white silk breeches, and there was a sapphire pin on the knot of his white silk cravat.
The two men stood before the fireplace, and Mr. Richmond was selecting a new clay pipe from the jar on the mantelpiece. They turned as the sisters entered.
Mr. Richmond smiled, coming toward them. “There you are, my dears. How very lovely you both look. I am indeed a fortunate man to have two such beautiful daughters.” He kissed them both fondly on the cheek, then turned to escort them to Robert, who took Jane’s hand and drew it warmly to his lips.
“I believe I must have been born under a lucky star to have gained the hand of someone as lovely as you,” he murmured, looking into her soft brown eyes.
She blushed, lowering her glance demurely. “I was the one to have been born under the lucky star, my lord, for in you I’m sure I will have the most perfect of husbands.”
“We meet again, Miss Richmond.” Robert turned to Christina.
She made herself look at him and smile. “We do indeed, my lord.”
He took her hand then, drawing it to his lips as he had Jane’s, and she steeled herself for the moment his kiss brushed her bare skin.
Mr. Richmond filled his clay pipe with tobacco from his favorite jar, lit it with a spill held to the fire, and then drew a long satisfied puff. As a curl of the sweet smoke rose into the air, he went toward a small table on which stood several decanters and a number of glasses. “An aperitif before we dine?” he inquired, picking up the decanter of pale sherry.
Dinner itself was every bit the ordeal Christina had known it would be, for not only did she have to watch Robert and Jane together, she also had to participate in a conversation that turned greatly upon Bellstones, Robert’s Tudor mansion at the foot of Exmoor in Somerset. He quite evidently adored the house, and frequently referred to how much he thought Jane would come to love it as well.
Jane seemed prepared to love it no matter what, and she asked a great many questions, so that before long they knew the house had twenty-eight rooms, a baronial hall, suites once occupied by Queen Elizabeth and King Charles II, a series of particularly beautiful terraced gardens, matchless views of the high moors, a park where Queen Elizabeth herself had once ridden to the local staghounds, and a beautiful river that had its source in a lake on the moor.
Conversation also turned upon London, which Jane openly longed to visit. Robert had a wealth of anecdotes about the capital and its high society, and he was an amusing raconteur, keeping them greatly entertained. Christina observed him, thinking again how devastatingly attractive he was. It was small wonder that such a man had a reputation with the ladies, for there could hardly be a woman alive who didn’t respond in some measure to him. One thing was certain: Miss Christina Richmond was responding, in spite of her deep desire to do the opposite.
Sir Archibald Fitton’s cook had excelled herself for this important occasion, Mr. Richmond having been firmly overruled by his daughters on the matter of roast beef, which dish they were determined would not grace tonight’s table. Instead there was an exquisite puree of artichokes, magnificently garnished cutlets à la provencale, and deliciously light meringues à la creme, but tempting as the meal was, Christina ate very little.
She tried to be all she should be, for no one must even begin to guess the truth, and she discovered that she was a more-than-adequate actress, for they were all convinced she was as delighted as they with the way things were turning out.
The meal ended at last, and Christina and Jane adjourned to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to discuss the minutiae of the marriage contract over their port. Christina didn’t go directly into the drawing room, but hastened first to the kitchens to congratulate the pleased cook upon the excellence of the meal.
Going to join her sister in the drawing room, Christina entered to see her standing at one of the windows. Jane had opened a shutter and was looking out at the cold starry sky. There was something a little odd about her, and Christina paused in the doorway. “Is something wrong?”
Jane whirled guiltily about. “No. Of course not,” she said quickly, closing the shutter.
“For someone who says there’s nothing wrong, you look exceeding guilty.”
“Don’t be silly.” Jane laughed lightly, going to sit on the sofa. The butler had put a silver tray on the table before it, with a coffeepot, some golden porcelain cups and saucers, a decanter of sweet apricot liqueur, and four little glasses.
Christina sat on a chair opposite, eyeing her. “What is it, Jane?” she pressed.
Jane looked away. “If I seem guilty it’s because I happened to be thinking about Mr. Grenfell.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t. It was only an innocent thought, about what Robert told you earlier today. I think it’s far too dangerous to make an ascent in the dark, and I wish such a plan would be set completely aside.”
“I agree with you, but I also think that you should set Mr. Grenfell completely aside,’’ warned Christina uneasily. “He’s nothing to you, Jane, beyond the fact that he’s made his admiration disgracefully plain. You’ve somehow managed to get away with your questionable conduct so far, but no one can expect such luck to last forever, and if you do anything else, I doubt very much whether you’ll emerge unscathed. You do want Robert, don’t you?”
“Of course I do.”
“Then don’t speak of Mr. Grenfell, don’t think about him, don’t even remember his wretched name.” Christina leaned forward to pour two cups of the black unsweetened coffee.
“You don’t have to lecture me,” complained Jane.
“Don’t I?”
Jane fell silent, accepting her cup. After a moment she looked curiously at Christina. “I think perhaps it’s my turn to ask if something’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Christina met her eyes.
“Well, since last night you’ve been a little ... Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
She laughed then. “Actually, this sounds a little familiar, for I seem to recall you were about to ask me something just as we came down, and you also said it didn’t matter.”
“So I did.”
“What was it?”
Christina paused, and then put down her cup. “I was going to ask you again if you’d been out just before I returned from the circulating library.”
Jane stared at her. “But I’ve already said—”
“I know, but when I went upstairs I saw Ellen putting your yellow pelisse away. When I thought I saw you returning to the house, I thought you were wearing the pelisse and gown, and when you actually came down the stairs, you were wearing the gown.”
Jane continued to stare at her for a moment, and then laughed. “And because of that you think I’ve been up to something? No doubt you suspect me of creeping off to Sydney Gardens to see my other admirer.”
“Have you?” Christina held her eyes.
“No, I haven’t. Of course Ellen was putting the pelisse away, she’d brought it out because she thought I intended to go out a little later. That’s really all there was to it.”
Christina was forced to smile a little sheepishly. “I must ask you to forgive me, but I really did think ...”
“Robert means too much to me, Christina.”
“I’m glad, for you obviously mean as much to him.”
“Are you really happy for us?”
“Of course I am.”
“And you do like Robert?”
“Very much. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You seem ... Perhaps it’s me, I’m in such a state all the time, I sometimes don’t know if I’m coming or going.” Jane laughed.
Christina laughed as well, but knew privately that in spite of her efforts, Jane had detected the change in her. From now on she, Christina, would have to try even harder to hide the truth about her feelings for Robert.<
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They’d commenced their second cup of coffee, and were discussing a forthcoming play at the Theater Royal, when the gentlemen joined them at last, and by Mr. Richmond’s beaming smile, they knew that everything had been satisfactorily agreed.
He rang for the butler, and instructed him to bring the large bottle of champagne that had been sitting in ice for several hours now, in anticipation of this auspicious moment, and when they all had a frothing glass, he smiled at Jane.
“It’s all arranged, my dear, we’re leaving for Bellstones at the end of next week, and you and Robert will be formally betrothed there on his birthday, the twentieth of this month.” He raised his glass. “I wish you both every happiness, and trust that you will be as happy in your marriage as I was in both of mine.”
As they all raised their glasses, Jane’s eyes sparkled like the champagne. Her cheeks were flushed with happiness, and she looked so radiant she was almost ethereal. Robert put down his own glass, relieved her of hers, and then pulled her close to kiss her on the cheek.
It was the perfect gesture, and Mr. Richmond was suddenly so moved that tears sprang to his eyes. All along he’d prayed that the match would be a happy one, and now there seemed no doubt that it would be. Turning away to hide his emotion, he sought in his pocket for a handkerchief.
Jane and Robert were talking about the future, and Christina seized the moment to go to her father. “You’re not supposed to be wiping your eyes at a time like this,” she said gently, taking his arm.
He patted her hand fondly. “I know, my dear, I know, but one day I’m sure I’ll be wiping similar tears at the announcement of your betrothal.”
Seeing that Jane and Robert were still preoccupied, Christina smiled again at her father. “I don’t want to be betrothed, for I’m quite happy to remain with you.”
“You have so much to give, my dear, and you should have a husband to share it with.”
But I can never have the husband I want. The thought passed unbidden through her head, as she knew it often would from now on. She glanced briefly at Robert, and then back at her father, who was gazing wistfully into the fire. “What are you thinking about?” she asked.