She turned to face him, feeling as if she couldn't breathe. As always, his manner of dress was impeccable. He wore rust-colored trousers and a white ruffled shirt. Since the night was warm, he wore no coat. His nearness was so overpowering, she felt her legs go weak. His face was plainly defined in the light that streamed from the garden room. How well she remembered last night when his kisses had drained her of any strength or resistance. Now those lips were stiff and unyielding. There was no softness in his brown eyes, as there had been when he held her in his arms. Now only boredom reflected in the dark depths.
"I didn't see you, I am . . . sorry." She remembered to stammer. "Are you planning on going . . . away, Mr. West?"
"Yes, before too long."
It had to come. She had known that he would have to go away one day, indeed she wanted him to go so he would be safe from Brainard. But, oh, the thought of never seeing him again was more than she could bear. "But your . . . painting," she stammered. "Have you finished Helen of Troy?"
His eyes went past her to the full moon that was rising above the stable. "It is not yet complete, because my model is like a fleeting shadow, Miss Daymond. She seems to always be vanishing into thin air. I may never complete the painting."
Her eyes were wistful and seeking, not really understanding what he meant. "Then you found a model?"
His mouth thinned. "I found her, and then lost her."
"I'm sorry."
He gave her a quick glance, since he had detected compassion in her tone. "I believe you are," he said in a much kinder voice than he customarily used with her.
Julian stared at Lavender so long and hard that she ducked her head. "I must hurry in," she said, moving to step around him. "My aunt will be angry with me for being so late."
He caught her hand and pulled her back to him. "You are safe from the ogre tonight. Phoebe informed me that her mistress had gone to the church to deliver mended uniforms."
"1 should have been here to help her transport the uniforms." Again she tried to step around him, but he still clasped her hand.
"Don't go in just yet, Miss Daymond. I want to talk to you about something."
She froze. What if he had come to realize who she was? "Yes, I am . . . listening."
"1 have asked permission of your aunt to escort you to the Eldridges' party on Saturday next, and she has given her consent."
She had expected anything but this. "I couldn't... I never ... I am not going to Elizabeth's party."
Her stammer was beginning to irritate him, making him wish he could withdraw his offer. "I will not take no for an answer. It is my belief that when you are young, you should be lighthearted, dance and have amusement in your life. Every time I see you, you are either rushing to do your aunt's bidding—" his mouth eased into a smile "—or tripping over me."
Lavender would have liked nothing better than to go to a dance with Julian Westfield, but could she risk it? She was immediately suspicious of his motives. Why would he ask her to accompany him to Elizabeth's party? "I do not. . . dance very well," she answered.
His lips thinned with scorn. "To hell with that. You could stand on the sidelines and chat, if that is your wish."
Now she was really suspicious. Whenever possible, Julian had always avoided engaging her in conversation. Why was he suddenly pretending to be interested in her now? "I have nothing suitable to wear," she said quickly. "Besides, I don't like to go to parties. I find them a waste of time."
In vexation he realized he still held her hand and he dropped it. "I am not in the habit of begging women, Miss Daymond. You can either go or not, it is entirely up to you."
Suddenly she wanted to go with him more than anything. Whatever his reason was in asking her, if she accepted his invitation, she could spend a few hours in his company. "Perhaps I. . . can find something to wear, Mr. West."
He bowed stiffly. "Very well. Until next Saturday then." He moved leisurely down the path toward the stables, leaving Lavender to wonder at his strange behavior. The thought of his going away was too painful for her to dwell on. But he was in too much danger here in Williamsburg. Brainard would make good his threat, and she would have to find a way to speed Julian's departure from Virginia. With a heavy heart, she made her way into the house. She would have to be careful that Julian left without gleaning any further knowledge of the Swallow.
Lavender stood on a low stool while Phoebe took neat stitches at the waist of the cream-colored sack dress, the robe a la francaise, that had once belonged to her aunt. The gown had been in style some thirty years before, and looked bulky and awkward. Lavender knew the color was wrong for her, since it made her look pale and washed out.
Phoebe snipped the thread, and stood back to admire her handiwork. "You sure is a sight, Miss Lavender. I 'spect you will be the prettiest one there."
"Not quite the way I would have described her," Aunt Amelia said, coming into the room and surprising both Lavender and Phoebe. Amelia turned her eyes on Phoebe, and nodded toward the door, indicating the maid should leave. When Amelia was alone with her niece, she sat down by the window and stared at Lavender, taking in every detail of her appearance.
"You could have had a new gown, Lavender. Why didn't you ask me for one?"
"This one will suit me just fine, Aunt Amelia. I am not looking to be the light of anyone's eye."
"Turn around," her aunt said in a soft voice. "I want to see the back of the gown."
Lavender did as she was told.
"I am going to tell you something that might surprise you, Lavender. I have kept my silence for too long, waiting for the day you would come to me, but you are a proud one and would never ask anyone for anything, would you?"
Lavender was confused, wondering what she had done to displease her aunt this time. She had never seen her aunt in this mood, and wondered at the cause. "I don't understand?"
The soft smile that Amelia bestowed on her shocked Lavender into silence. "The Daymond women, down through history, have always been an independent and stubborn lot. They were all survivors, strong in body and soul, but I believe you have gone them all one better."
Lavender stood undecided. "I am not understanding you, Aunt Amelia. You think I am strong?"
"Surely you do not take me for a fool?"
Lavender was further bewildered. "No, Aunt Amelia, I have never thought of you as a fool."
"I have watched you struggle, trying to fill your father's shoes. I have seen the pain in your eyes when you thought you had no one to share your burden with. I watched you hide your beauty behind those ugly black gowns, knowing your young heart rebelled at the thought. I have been amused when you turned the money over to me that you supposedly earned at the hospital. By the way, I have saved all the money for your future."
Lavender realized her aunt knew her secret when she saw the truth reflected in her eyes. Now was the time for honesty between the two of them. "How long have you known, Aunt Amelia?"
"Known what. . . that you are the Swallow?"
Lavender's face paled to the same shade as the gown she wore. She looked for anger in her aunt's eyes, but saw pride instead. "How did you come to know?"
"I picked up a bit here, a tidbit there, and added them all together. Every time I heard someone whisper about the Swallow's daring exploits, I would feel pride in you, just as I know all the Daymond women would have been proud of you."
Lavender dropped down in front of her aunt, still not sure what to make of her confession. "But you never said anything."
"How could I? If I had confronted you with the evidence, I would have had to do what was proper and insist that you stop what you were doing. As it was, I could turn my eyes away and pretend I knew nothing. Each time you were called to the hospital, I knew you would be going into danger. I could not rest easy until I knew you were safely back home again."
Lavender felt tears in her eyes and she reached out and covered her aunt's blue-veined hand. "I never knew you felt that way. I always thought I was a burden t
o you."
Amelia's hand trembled as she softly touched Lavender's golden hair. "My dear child, you have never been a burden to me . . . you have been my only joy in a cold and impersonal world."
"But I don't understand?"
"I am a hard woman, Lavender. I have never known how to show my feelings . . . perhaps that is why I never married. When you first came to me as a child, I was a bitter old woman who knew nothing about raising a young girl. You have taught me so many things about giving and . . . love. Every time I scolded you, it was like a pain in my own heart. You never complained about anything, but cheerfully did whatever I asked of you."
Lavender laughed and hugged the older woman, her heart basking in a warmth of feelings she had secretly craved since she had been a child. "You make me sound like an applicant for martyrdom, Aunt Amelia."
Her aunt's cheeks were wet with tears, but she managed to smile. "Oh, you are hardly that, but I am so very proud of you."
Lavender's eyes were shining bright. "You cannot know what that means to me."
Amelia's faded blue eyes took on a warm glow. "Now, that's enough talking nonsense. Stand up, and let me have another look at that gown."
Lavender quickly obeyed. Wrinkling her nose, she turned around in a circle. "That is positively the worst gown I have ever seen," Amelia stated bluntly. "I didn't even like it when it belonged to me."
"It is frightful, isn't it? But it will have to do."
"No. You still have two days until the party. I feel sure that if we put our heads together, we can come up with something much more suitable for you to wear. 1 have seen you with Mr. West, and I know you have strong feelings for him. If he is what you want, why don't you show him how lovely you really are?"
There was misery in Lavender's eyes. "I can't. It is impossible."
"Why ever would you say that? He must be interested in you, or he would not have asked you to accompany him to the gala. You are not some weak, silken miss that doesn't know how to fight for what she wants."
"You don't understand, Aunt Amelia. Julian West, or rather Julian Westfield, is an English duke. He has come to Williamsburg expressly to capture the Swallow. It's my guess that he is going to the party in hopes the Swallow will be there, and he is using me to get him through the front door. He knows what the Swallow looks like, so I am forced to continue with this disguise."
Amelia's eyes lit up. "A duke, you say? Well, that does not surprise me now that I think about it. He is an arrogant and proud devil." Her eyes sparked with amusement. "You must have caused the British no end of trouble if they sent one of their nobility to capture you."
"It isn't that I am important, Aunt Amelia. Julian Westfield's motive for hunting me is quite different."
"I see. Are you sure he does not know you are the Swallow?"
"Yes, I am sure."
Amelia walked around Lavender with a practiced eye. "It appears you will just have to go on playing the dowdy miss. Pity, you could have set Mr. West.. . field's head in a spin if he had seen you as you really are."
"He would send Lavender Daymond to an English prison if he saw me as I really am."
Amelia caught Lavender's chin and looked deeply into her eyes. "Just remember you are as good as any of the English nobility. If this man is what you want, then go after him."
"I can't."
"And why not?"
Lavender lowered her eyes. "It would seem his dead brother stands between us. The duke is motivated by revenge, because he believes I am responsible for his brother's death."
Amelia sighed heavily. "Yes, I see what you mean. Revenge is a deep emotion—deeper perhaps than even love."
12
The doors at the Eldridge home were thrown wide and music welcomed new arrivals with a spirit of festivity.
Lavender's hand rested on Julian's arm as they descended the three steps that took them into the oval-shaped ballroom. She glanced around, noting the women in brightly colored gowns, while many of the gentlemen were in uniform.
Julian looked down at Lavender, thinking how forlorn she looked in the pale gown that not only did not fit her but had gone out of fashion in his grandmother's day. It was obvious that she wore one of her aunt's powdered wigs, because it was too large and kept slipping low on her forehead. It was hard to see her eyes behind the spectacles that rested across her nose.
Lavender gave Julian a half smile and ducked her head. She resented the pity that reflected in his dark eyes, and she wished she could throw off this disguise and let him see her as she really was. Of course that was impossible.
Elizabeth was conversing with a handsome French officer, and when she saw Lavender and Julian she excused herself, rushing forward with a happy smile. "I have been waiting for you," she said, kissing Lavender's cheek. Lizzy had done a quick assessment of Lavender's appearance, and tried to hide her disappointment. Why was her friend trying to deliberately make herself dowdy? She had so hoped Lavender would shine tonight.
Extending her hand, Lizzy greeted Julian. "I am so happy that you made our little gathering, Mr. West." She bestowed upon him her most fetching smile.
He took her hand and made the right responses. "This is quite a turnout, Miss Eldridge, it would seem everyone in Williamsburg and vicinity has attended." His eyes moved over the room, examining every young lady's face. He was looking for the woman who had escaped his trap, haunted his dreams, and would give him no peace of mind until he had her under his domination.
Lizzy linked her arm through Lavender's. "Come and say hello to Mother and Father." Her eyes then went to Julian. "I will then introduce you around," she said, smiling. "All the women have been awaiting your arrival."
Lavender watched Julian as his eyes scanned the room, knowing it had been a mistake for her to come. It seemed somehow outlandish to her that she could spend an evening with Julian while he was searching for the Swallow among the crowd.
* * *
As the evening progressed, Lavender watched Julian dance with one partner after another. It was obvious to her that he was relentless in his quest to find the Swallow behind the face of one of his dancing partners. Now she watched him dance with Lizzy, who was apparently fascinated by Julian. His laughter showed that he was having a wonderful time, which was more than Lavender could say for herself.
Julian had asked her to dance earlier, but when she had declined, he had moved on to other prospects. No other gentleman had thus far asked Lavender to dance, and she wished she had stayed at home. She could not help comparing this gala with the many others she had attended as the Swallow. At those times, she had been the center of attention and surrounded by gentlemen. Of course, enticing her victims had been her purpose, and it had worked all too well. Now she was trying to pose as a shy little mouse, and that, too, was working well She smiled to herself grimly, thinking she should have chosen to go on stage as an actress.
Suddenly the laughter became too loud and unbearable and she needed to escape, so she walked outside, watching as the twilight settled over Williamsburg with a gentleness. The late summer sun seemed to linger, casting its radiant hue over the land.
Along the garden path, many Chinese lanterns bobbed on a string, while fireflies frivolously danced on the evening breeze. The melodic sound of the violin and the harpsichord filled the air, and Lavender's old familiar feelings of loneliness descended upon her like a painful knife thrust. With a strong determination, she pushed her gloomy thoughts aside.
Thinking she was alone, Lavender picked up the skirt of her gown and spun around in a circle, lost for the moment in remembering when she had been with Julian at Cornwallis's gala. Her eyes were closed and she hummed softly to herself.
Julian had seen Lavender slip outside and had excused himself to follow her, knowing he had neglected her tonight. When he saw her beneath the lanterns, whirling and turning gracefully, he stood for a moment, thinking she certainly did not appear clumsy when she danced.
When a strong hand closed around Lavender's, she though
t she was still caught in her imaginary dance, and did not react until a deep voice spoke next to her ear. "I believe this is my dance, Miss Daymond."
She stopped and jerked her hand free of Julian's grasp. "I, no ... I do not ... 1 told you I cannot dance very well."
His laugh was warm and his eyes searching as he took her hand. "If you cannot dance, you were doing a very good imitation of it a moment ago, Miss Daymond. 1 have begun to think you just do not want to dance with me."
"It's not that ... I just... I want to go home."
He whirled her around and made a deep bow. "I see. Then you do not enjoy my company?"
A flood of emotions washed over her, and she wanted to hit out at him, to wound him like he was wounding her. "1 have not been in your company, Mr. West. Why don't you go back inside and dance with your other partners. I am sure they will appreciate you more than I."
His dark brows came together in a frown. "You told me that you did not dance. Being a gentleman, I merely took you at your word."
She whirled on him, her temper rising by degrees. "Then why did you ask me to come with you?"
Her little outburst demonstrated more spirit then he had thought her capable of. He offered her his arm, his face a stone mask. "Perhaps 1 wanted to get to know you better. Is that so hard to believe?"
She ignored his hand. "Do not dare make mock of me, Mr. West. If you wanted to attend Elizabeth's party, you did not need to bring me as an excuse. Did you not know you would have been welcome anyway?"
His jaw clamped together and his glance was heated and stabbing. "I care not for your frivolous little parties. I thought to do you a good turn by asking you to attend with me tonight. I see I was mistaken."
Anger caused her to speak rashly. "So you thought to bestow your charity on poor little old me? How magnanimous of you, Mr. West."
"What does it matter?" he said. "The real reason I came did not bear fruit."
Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Page 17