A Matter of Honor

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  She wanted to scream at him then, her heart contracting with the pain of hearing him speak her given name. You had your chance and you threw it away, she wanted to scream. But she did not. Instead, she forced herself to speak calmly, “Milord, I cannot accept clothing from you. It is unseemly.”

  His mouth tightened further. “Miss Trimble,” he said formally, “you forget your position here. As the companion of my ward you cannot appear at the ball in rags.”

  Aggie was struck silent. She was acutely conscious of the truth of his words. But how could she accept anything from him? The situation was impossible.

  He moved closer, until only a few inches separated them. She wanted desperately to back away; his presence was overpowering. But she seemed rooted to the spot as his eyes searched hers. She felt the pulse throbbing in her throat and she swayed slightly from the weakness that was creeping over her. “Aggie,” he said softly, and the word itself was a caress. “You’re driving me mad like this. Can you never forget the past?”

  His eyes burned into hers and she felt herself growing still weaker. Those eyes seemed to be hungrily seeking something and she was overcome with such a welling up of affection for him that she swayed involuntarily in his direction. She felt a moment of terror as the full realization of her feelings hit and then his arms encircled her and his lips descended on hers. There was one moment of startled awareness, one moment when she might conceivably have withdrawn, but she let it pass, still awash as she was with intense feeling.

  And then it was too late. He drew her close against him; she felt the heat of his body, his mouth moving on hers, seeking, caressing. She ceased to be aware of individual things and was swept away on a great tide of emotion. It seemed that for the last five years she had been in some kind of half-sleep - not dead, but not alive. And now the touch of his lips had wakened her again, to an ecstasy that could not be denied.

  She knew that she should not respond, that her best defense lay in being cold and lifeless. But there was no way she could keep her body from reacting to his touch, no way to close her lips against this tender onslaught.

  When finally he released her, she could scarcely stand, so overpowered was she by the torrents of emotion that he had released in her. For a long moment she stood, forehead bowed against his chest. Then he put one hand under her chin and gently tilted back her head until she was forced to meet his eyes. It was almost as though the intervening years had never been - as though there still existed between them that wonderful bond of long ago.

  “Aggie,” he said softly, “you must accept the gowns.” His eyes moved over her face. “There’s so much I can do for you now. You’ll see.”

  It took awhile for the meaning of his words to sink into her dazed mind, but when they did, Aggie wrenched herself free of his arms. He had not offered for her in marriage as he had said he would, not even told her why he had left so abruptly. But now, because of that one kiss, he thought she would be willing to - Rage rushed through her at the degrading thought. If he had not wanted to marry her before, when she was a good catch with a substantial dowry, he certainly did not have that in mind now. What he did have in mind was - unspeakable.

  She drew herself up and stared at him from eyes gone icy. “You go beyond the bounds, milord. The past is dead. And with it any connection there may have been between us.” She half expected him to argue, to tell her that the kiss proved her wrong. But he only stood, staring at her silently, his black brows drawn together. “I will wear the gowns because I must,” she continued. “But I will reimburse you for them after Cecilie is wed and I come into what Lord Winthrop left me. I may be poor, but I do not need charity.”

  His expression changed then and he cried out, “Aggie! Please!” and took a step toward her, but this time she did not hesitate to back away.

  “The only matter between us is Cecilie’s future. And, since Lady Bakiston has everything in hand for the come out, I believe there is nothing more to discuss at the moment.”

  Denby’s face, which seconds before had shown tenderness and desire, was now set in stony impassivity. His eyes, which had been warm and glowing, were now the cold gray of fieldstone.

  “You make your position very clear. Miss Trimble. I shall try to remember it in the future. As for now, you are quite right; there is nothing more to be discussed.”

  Aggie nodded as she turned, fighting to keep back the telltale tears. “Good day, milord.”

  She was almost to the door when he spoke again. “I ordered the peach gown for the come out. I expect you to wear it then.” The words sounded strange in the coldly formal tone that he used and Aggie choked back a sob, not daring to turn and look at him.

  She swallowed twice before she could answer. “Very well, milord. I shall obey your command.”

  She did not see the spasm of pain that crossed his face or the half step he took toward her. Her eyes blinded with tears, she made her way out the door and down the hall to the little courtyard. She needed a few minutes alone before she could face Cecilie.

  Sinking down on a stone bench, she stared unseeing at a deep red rose. How could she have let him kiss her like that? He had been gone for five long years, with never a word during that time. And not a word now as to his reasons for leaving so suddenly. And yet he had kissed her and looked at her as he had in the old days. She choked back another sob. What a fool she had been to give in to her treacherous body. Now the Earl knew he had some power over her. He knew. That was why he had made such a dishonorable remark. She felt the heat flooding her body at the thought of it. Oh yes, he could do so much for her. And all he wanted in return was - her honor!

  She wiped futilely at her wet eyes. Yes, fate had been doubly cruel to her. Not only had it forced her back into contact with the man who had broken her heart, it had also constrained her to admit the painful truth -more painful than ever now that she saw his dishonorable motives - broken as her heart was, the pieces still yearned for him.

  Chapter Six

  The day of Cecilie’s come out finally arrived. Aggie, surveying the great ballroom that occupied the entire fourth floor of the house, had to give the invisible Lady Bakiston credit. The masses of fresh flowers gave the room a festive appearance and the delicacies being prepared in the kitchen should please any palate.

  Cecilie was suddenly rather nervous, begging Aggie to go have a look and be assured that the great barren room had been made presentable. Actually, the flowers and palms made a great deal of difference. Aggie sighed; it was in just such a ballroom that she had whirled in blissful joy in the arms of the then Viscount Acton. Hurriedly she pushed the memory aside. Those days were over. All she could expect from the Earl now were possible attacks on her virtue, such as that which had occurred a few days ago. She felt herself grow warm at the thought. She would have to be very careful. Now that she knew that his attraction for her was as strong as ever she must keep herself under control.

  Thankfully he had not spoken to her about the matter again. Perhaps he had taken her icy words to heart. But it was quite disconcerting to feel his eyes upon her. She tried to avoid meeting those eyes that had once been the instruments of her betrayal, but she could not always do so. And when, perforce, her eyes met his, what she discovered there left her bewildered. If she had not known that it was entirely illogical and impossible, she would have sworn that his eyes spoke of hurt and pain.

  She shook her head. The Earl had been quite formally polite and businesslike, and under the circumstances that was quite the best thing. It made life easier for all of them. The question was: how long would he remain that way? The terrible yearning inside herself... If there was anything like that inside him...

  She turned away and hurried back down the stairs to reassure Cecilie and supervise her dressing. One could never tell what madcap stunt the girl might decide upon. And this night was crucial to her future. This was her first public appearance in the world of the ton. Nothing must spoil it - for Cecilie’s sake and her own.

  When
she entered their rooms, Cecilie swung around from the bed where she was playing with Dillydums. “Does it look all right, Aggie? Really?” she asked anxiously.

  “It looks very nice. Lady Bakiston has done a good job.”

  Cecilie made a face, but said nothing.

  “I believe we should start dressing soon. It will take some time for Millie to do your hair.”

  “Yours, too,” said Cecilie.

  Aggie frowned. “I’ll wear mine in its usual knot.”

  Cecilie sprang from the bed, causing the monkey to jump up and swing from the hangings in agitation. “Oh, Aggie, you mustn’t. You’ll spoil the whole thing. You’re to wear the peach silk, of course. And it needs your hair done in a softer way. Maybe in the antique Roman style. Please, for me?” she begged.

  Wearily, Aggie nodded. The strain of the last few days was beginning to tell on her; she simply did not have the energy to argue about unimportant things. “All right, but you must dress first.”

  Cecilie sighed. “I’m getting scared, Aggie. Why do people have to go through all this?”

  Aggie smiled. “It’s the custom, dear. The young men get a chance to see you and you get a chance to see them.”

  A glimmer of mischief lit Cecilie’s eyes. “My husband will have to be a young man,” she said. “Not old like the Earl.”

  “The Earl is hardly old,” Aggie found herself replying, and was dismayed by the fact that her mind had just presented her with a picture of his lordship’s bare chest.

  Cecilie began to tease the monkey, tickling his nose with a feather from the pillow. “I know,” she cried. “I shall take Dillydums along. He can sit on my shoulder. That way I shan’t be lonely.”

  “Oh, Cecilie!” Aggie dropped into a chair. “You cannot take a monkey to a come out. Aside from the fact that his lordship might well have an attack of apoplexy -” The light in Cecilie’s eyes warned her that this was not the right approach. “But even disregarding that - think of your own future. A man cannot be expected to court a woman and a monkey. And you do want to find a husband.”

  “Yes,” agreed Cecilie with another sigh. “And at a ball I can find the good dancers. I suppose we shall need to go to Hyde Park to discover who’s a good horseman.”

  Aggie nodded. “But now you must get dressed.” Hopefully Cecilie had forgotten her third requirement for a husband. It would certainly be impossible for her to discover what a man’s chest looked like before the wedding night unless...

  The thought was so appalling that Aggie resisted it. But it would not be silenced. Suppose Cecilie found a man who was a good dancer and a crack horseman? Then suppose that she took matters into her own hands, as she was quite wont to do, and asked him outright about the hirsute quality of his chest! About to caution her charge against such a dangerous action - for surely such a request could be interpreted in many ways - Aggie shut her mouth sharply. It might be wiser not to mention the matter at all. Perhaps Cecilie had forgotten it. And even if she hadn’t, warning her would not at all guarantee her compliance. It might even induce her to go ahead! Cecilie, having so little experience of the ton, had no idea of the complicity and wickedness of some men. It was impossible for her to imagine anyone taking advantage of her, especially as she knew so little of the opposite sex.

  Aggie crossed to the wardrobe and withdrew the dress of ivory satin that Cecilie was to wear.

  “You must put your gown on, too,” said Cecilie. “I want Millie to do your hair right after mine.”

  Aggie nodded. It was easier just to go along with Cecilie’s wishes. After all, what did it matter? No one would be paying attention to her anyway.

  Cecilie looked quite ravishing in her gown. Its round neckline and little puffed sleeves accented the creaminess of her complexion. While Millie labored over the tousled curls, making sure each one looked adequately “natural,” Aggie took the gown of peach silk from its hanger. Her fingers trembled as they touched the fine soft material. It had been a long time since she’d had a gown for the evening. And this one was so beautiful. How had he known that she liked this material and that pale green lame? She had not thought her preference was so obvious. But somehow he had discovered it.

  She must be very careful now - for if he had discovered her preference for materials, and with so little to work on - might he not also discover her preference for him? Especially after that revealing kiss. Then he would have an additional weapon at his disposal, a weapon to use in persuading her to become his mis - Her mind balked at the offending word and she shoved the thought aside. Her only dealings with his lordship now were those relating to Cecilie. Between the two of them there was nothing - nothing at all.

  Another maid stepped forward and silently helped her off with her old gown. Her fingers felt all thumbs and she was aware of a growing nervousness. Of course, at any time she would be apprehensive about Cecilie’s behavior and this was a most important occasion. But this nervousness was more than that. It was somehow related to the peach silk gown that was, in reality, a gift from Denby. No matter what she had said about reimbursing him, the truth was that he had paid for it. The gown, she decided, had become something more than a gown to her. She was being ridiculous, she thought, as the soft folds of silk fell around her. This was a gown and nothing more. Wearing it was a part of her job and did not in any way indicate her true feelings for Denby.

  She stood silent while the maid arranged the rich folds of silk. This was perhaps the most beautiful gown she had ever owned -worn, she corrected herself. It clung to her body in all the right places, dipping low in the neck, but not too low, and falling to the floor in graceful folds.

  By this time Millie had finished with Cecilie and, while she stood by, the maid released Aggie’s hair from its restraining knot. It fell in a great cloud around her shoulders, making her face softer and younger.

  “You should wear it like that, Aggie.”

  “I can’t, dear.” Aggie was careful not to reveal the dismay she felt at this suggestion, one advanced by the Earl long ago. “I’m far too old for that.” And so Cecilie had to be content with Millie’s bringing the tresses together at the back of the head and then coaxing them into two hanging ringlets.

  “Oh Aggie,” cried her ward. “You look absolutely lovely.”

  Aggie was not at all sure she wished to hear this, but looking in the cheval glass, she saw that a transformation had certainly been made. This creature, dazzling in shimmering silk, was not the drab, rather washed-out young woman she habitually saw in her glass. Her cheeks were rosy with excitement and her eyes sparkled.

  “You look capital!” said Cecilie. “Why, it might be your come out.”

  Aggie managed not to wince. Cecilie could not know how painful such remembrances of the past were, remembrances that included a future alliance with the Earl. She found herself wishing that she did not look so well; it could not help her now to be attractive. Poor companions were far better off to be ugly or nondescript; then they were not so apt to be put in the way of temptation. A shiver passed over her as she remembered the feel of Denby’s arms around her, the touch of his lips on hers. She must never allow such a situation to develop again. Never. For she knew quite clearly that once in his arms she could not keep from surrendering to his kisses. Character, honor, duty - nothing meant anything when he held her close. She knew that now. And she must act accordingly.

  * * * *

  In the ballroom later that evening as she stood flushing before Denby’s gaze, Aggie reminded herself of her resolve. It was feather-brained to believe that she saw pain in his eyes. No one had hurt him.

  He looked her over carefully, then smiled gravely. “You are looking quite well this evening, Miss Trimble. The gown was a fortunate choice. Do you approve of the design?”

  Aggie nodded, her cheeks turning scarlet as she grew conscious of Cecilie’s curious gaze.

  “I particularly like the effect of the lace,” he said, letting his eyes fall to where it lay against her bosom. It was impos
sible for Aggie to flush any deeper, but she felt the heat of embarrassment flooding her whole body.

  “You are looking very good yourself,” said Cecilie, surveying his black silk florentine breeches, black stockings, and slippers. Above the black waistcoat and full dress coat shimmered a gleaming white cravat.

  The Earl inclined his head and turned his gaze to Cecilie. “That gown is most becoming to you. Lady Bakiston assures me that the crowd will be large.”

  “I wish we might waltz,” said Cecilie, her mouth forming the beginning of a pout.

  The Earl swallowed a sigh. He was obviously determined to be patient. “I’m sure Miss Trimble has explained to you. Until you have been to Almack’s you cannot waltz. And until you have come out you cannot be invited to Almack’s.”

  Cecilie shrugged. “I know all that. I just think it’s unfair. Why should seven old women have all that power?”

  His lordship coughed suddenly, almost, thought Aggie, as though he were concealing a laugh, but his face was suitably stern. “Do not let the Jersey hear you call her old,” he warned. “She can ruin your reputation in ten seconds flat.”

  Cecilie tossed her curls, but she asked, “How shall I recognize Lady Jersey?”

  Denby smiled. “She’s small and dark, piquant. With great dark eyes. And she likes men.” His gaze flicked toward Aggie and away again, and once more she felt that she was supposed to hear more than the words actually said.

  It was then that the guests began arriving and it seemed to Aggie that they stood for hours, nodding and smiling, hearing names that she, at least, would never be able to recall.

  However, she had no problem in recognizing or remembering Lady Jersey. Although no longer young, Jersey obviously took good care of herself. Her gown of pale lavender was constructed of the “fine” French muslin and revealed the lady’s form in all its delights. From a small heart-shaped face two great dark eyes under long black lashes gazed at Aggie and she felt a sudden chill. The Jersey might like men; it was obvious that she did not care much for women. Aggie deliberately looked away as the lady smiled up at Denby from eyes gone suddenly very warm.