Ellen flushed. “I—I—I would have w-w-waited to tell you, if that had been the c-c-case. I would not have w-wwanted to embarrass you or your f-f-family.”
Another uncomfortable silence fell, and when Ellen still stood there uncertainly, he waved a dismissing hand. “Run along, dear, you have done what you came to do.”
Ellen’s flush deepened, but without another word she fled from the room.
His lips thin with anger, Jonathan stalked around the pleasant room, the urge to smash something very strong. Little bitch. He should have seduced her when he’d had the chance and then tossed her aside. It would be highly unlikely that Hugh would want his leavings.
A thought occurred to him. Suppose he told Hugh. . . . Some of his rage lessened, and a little smile suddenly quirked at the corners of his mouth. Yes, suppose he told Hugh that Ellen had broken their engagement and his heart in the process . . . and, most important of all, that they had been lovers? Wouldn’t that put the wind up dear, old, honorable Hugh? Jonathan’s smile grew. When Ellen came shyly tripping up to tell him of the broken engagement, Hugh would be in no mood to listen to her soft words. Jonathan laughed softly to himself as he pictured the scene. Hugh would be livid, and he would no doubt send sweet Miss Ellen away with her ears stinging. Ah, yes, he thought happily, he really should find Hugh and let him be the first to know of the broken engagement.
Unaware of Jonathan’s malicious plans, Ellen hurried back up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she shut the door behind her and leaned back against it. Her eyes very bright, she looked at Fancy, who had remained in the room, waiting for her return.
“I did it,” Ellen exclaimed on a note of disbelief. “I asked to see him alone and I told him that I did not want to marry him.”
“And what was his response?” Fancy asked anxiously.
Her expression slightly dazed, Ellen replied, “He was very good about it. He said that if I did not want to marry him, then our engagement was at an end. He said my happiness meant more to him than anything.”
Fancy rather doubted that, but she was relieved the confrontation had gone so smoothly. Yet the fact that Jonathan had agreed to the termination, within less than two hours of the engagement being announced, worried her. “Was he at all angry or distressed?” she asked curiously.
Ellen shook her head. “No. He seemed . . . thoughtful.”
A frown crossed Fancy’s forehead. “Thoughtful,” she repeated slowly to herself. “I do not know that I like the sound of that. I believe that Jonathan has spent a little too much time thinking, and that when he does, it bodes no good for us.”
Ellen appeared puzzled. “Why? What could he do to us? And why would he want to do anything to us, anyway? I do not think he really wanted to marry me. Otherwise he would not have acted as he has these past weeks.” Crossing the room and seating herself on the bed, Ellen continued slowly, “You cannot deny that he has blown hot and cold on both of us ever since we reached the Colonies. If you want to know what I think, I think that during the journey from England, he changed his mind about which one of us he really wanted to marry.”
“I have wondered about that myself,” Fancy admitted grimly. “From time to time, he has certainly given everyone the wrong impression about which one of us was to be his bride.”
“Well, I do not want to talk about him anymore,” Ellen said firmly. “You are married to Chance and I am no longer engaged to Jonathan.”
“That makes our present situation a little, um, awkward, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?” Ellen asked, her eyes very big.
“Ellen, stop and think,” Fancy said with affectionate exasperation. “The embarrassing circumstances under which I married Chance are bad enough, but have you forgotten that we are guests of the Walkers?” She made a face. “We certainly do not seem to have been very good ambassadors for our country. Our behavior has been most scandalous, and I wonder how I will ever hold my head up again. First I allow myself to be caught in a most shockingly compromising position, and now you have broken your engagement to the family heir. I think that Sam and Letty Walker will be most pleased to see the last of us.”
“Oh. I had not thought of that,” Ellen said uneasily. “It is going to be extremely uncomfortable, isn’t it? Whatever shall we do?”
“Just as we always have,” Fancy replied gloomily, “muddle on through and make the best of the situation.” She smiled faintly at Ellen. “You, of course, will come to Devil’s Own with me.” Patting Ellen’s hand comfortingly, she added, “I shall be happy of your company in my new home.”
“But what about your husband? Do you think Chance will feel the same?”
Fancy’s smile faltered. “Quite frankly, my dear, I really do not care whether Chance feels the same or not. You are my sister, my only living relative, not to mention my ward and my responsibility. Of course you shall accompany me to my new home.” She forced a light note into her voice. “Besides, it is obvious that Chance has a fondness for you.” A genuine smile curved her mouth. “Have you forgotten that Chance has no love for Jonathan? I think the news of your broken engagement will probably please him a great deal and he will demand that you accompany us.”
Ellen gave a big sigh. “I hope so. I had not really thought about how very uncomfortable it would be for the family with our being guests in their very own home.” She fiddled with a scrape of lace that trimmed the sleeves of her lavender gown. “I shall be sorry to say good-bye to Jonathan’s brother and his wife. They have been so very kind to us. We have treated them rather shabbily, haven’t we?”
“Not deliberately, my dear. And we shall try to do better in the future and make them see that we are not the sort of rude, scandalous hoydens that we have appeared to be of late,” Fancy said with a smile. “And now I think that we should rejoin the guests before our absence causes just the sort of speculation we neither one would like.”
Arm in arm, the two sisters descended the great, curving staircase of Walker Ridge. Each hiding their inner trepidations behind a dazzling smile, they rejoined the assembled throng. Nearly everyone except the immediate family and Hugh and Morely were strangers to them, but the greetings and smiles sent their way were warm and friendly, and after a few minutes Fancy felt some of the tension knotting her stomach begin to dissipate.
Spying Letty and Constance standing near the huge crystal punch bowl that had been set up on one of the long, linen-covered tables, Fancy and Ellen made their way over to them. One look at Constance’s tight features and the scathing glance she sent toward Ellen told its own story, and Fancy’s heart sank. Obviously Jonathan had already told his mother of the broken engagement.
Letty appeared slightly stunned, and when Fancy and Ellen came up, she stepped over to the pair of them and asked in a low voice, “Is it true, Ellen? You and Jonathan are not . . .? Hugh does not yet know, but Jonathan came to the rest of us, Sam and Chance, too, just a few minutes ago and told us that you have broken your engagement.”
Ellen flushed bright red. Her pretty face unhappy, she admitted, “Yes, it is true. Jonathan and I have decided that we do not suit.” Her eyes pleading for understanding, she muttered, “He is a fine man and you must think me a terrible jilt. But I—I cannot marry him.”
Constance’s lips thinned even more, and making her distaste for their company plain, she picked up her skirts and sailed away. Letty sighed heavily, watching her go. She turned back to Ellen and smiled wistfully. “I would have liked having you in the family, dear, but I understand. It is much better that you made a clean breast of your feelings now, rather than let things go any further. It was very brave of you and I am certain very hard for you to tell Jonathan that you did not want to marry him.”
Ellen’s eyes filled at Letty’s kindness. “You are n-n-not disgusted with me?” she asked uncertainly.
Letty shook her head. “No, dear. How could I be? Nor do Sam or Chance think ill of you for your actions. My husband was a little startled; he had barely hea
rd the original news from me when Jonathan came up to tell us that you were not engaged.” She smiled. “From Chance’s reaction, I gather that he thinks that you displayed wonderful good sense. He is very pleased with you.” A twinkle in her eyes, she continued, “Now that I have had a chance to consider the situation, I think perhaps that Jonathan rushed his fences in making his announcement. Am I correct?”
Earnestly Ellen answered, “It is true that the entire purpose of our trip to visit you was for Jonathan and me to be certain of our feelings for each other. But he had said nothing to me, given me no indication of what he was planing to do, prior to telling you that we were to be married. I was as shocked as everyone else.”
Letty patted her arm. “Yes, I rather imagine that you were.” She made a pained face. “And just like my young brother-in-law to confound us with his theatrics.”
Fancy’s eyes strayed to where Constance was talking to a group of friends. “Is she very angry?”
Letty sighed again. “Yes, I am afraid that she is. Ellen did, after all, turn down her son, and she dotes on him, sometimes Sam and I think too much. But do not pay her any heed. Constance is always in a fret about something, and I am sure that shortly she will be able to look on the bright side of things.” She glanced at Ellen. “But do not let her actions make you feel uncomfortable. Sam and I do not hold it against you for setting Jonathan straight.” Letty shook her head. “He should never have presumed so much, and you were right to do as you did.” Forcing a smile, she said on a lighter note, “And now we will have no more unpleasantness. It is your sister’s wedding day, and that is all we should think about. Come along now and let us join the others.”
Although she had troubles of her own, one part of Fancy’s mind stayed on Ellen’s broken engagement. She was relieved that everyone, with the exception of Constance, had taken it so well. But the information that Hugh hadn’t yet been told worried her a trifle. While Jonathan seemed to be acting honorably and handling an awkward situation with great tact and aplomb, Fancy was vaguely uneasy with the notion that he might take it upon himself to explain the situation to Hugh. She couldn’t shake the feeling that finding Hugh alone with Ellen had precipitated Jonathan’s sudden declaration, and if that had been the case, she was positive that Jonathan’s smarting pride—and she had no doubt that his pride was smarting—would lead him to cause more dissension between Hugh and Ellen.
She glanced around, looking for Hugh, and her heart sank when she saw him some distance away from the festivities, talking alone with Jonathan. The arrogant tilt to Jonathan’s head and the slightly malicious smile on his lips told her everything she needed to know—that and the stunned, ashen expression on Hugh’s face. Her jaw clenched in helpless anger. It was clear that Jonathan had just told Hugh some sort of shocking, ugly thing, and it didn’t take Fancy very long to guess what that might have been.
Her eyes hard and bright, she glared across the distance that separated her from the two men and wondered sickly how she and Ellen could have been so fooled by Jonathan’s outwardly kind and courteous manner. The man was a snake. He was manipulative and unscrupulous, and she intended to tell him so.
Fancy had even taken an impetuous step forward, when she brought herself up short, remembering where she was. A swift look around revealed that no one had noticed her preoccupation with the two men half-hidden now among the stand of oaks in which they stood. Murmuring an excuse to the group she was with, she left.
Pasting a serene smile on her face to hide the rage in her heart, Fancy began slowly to work her way toward the two men. She was almost at the fringes of the crowd when she saw Hugh, his features tortured and pale, turn on his heels and fling himself deeper into the stand of oaks.
The smile on Jonathan’s face as he turned back in the direction of the guests and began to stroll toward them made Fancy’s blood run cold. His gaze caught hers, and for a second a dismayed and slightly furtive look crossed his handsome features. It was gone so swiftly, Fancy almost thought she had imagined it. By the time Jonathan stopped in front of her, he was smiling once more, but a smile, she noticed, that didn’t reach his dark blue eyes.
Taking her politely by the arm, he deftly detached her from the merry guests and murmured low, “You look angry with me, my dear. What have I done to displease you?”
Fancy’s mouth nearly dropped open at his brazenness. She jerked her arm out of his grasp, not really caring who saw them, and asked tightly, “I was watching you with Hugh. What did you say to him to make him look like that?”
Jonathan’s smile deepened. He was feeling very pleased with himself, and Hugh’s reaction had been everything that he had hoped for. Looking at his soft white hand and the perfectly buffed nails, he said carelessly, “Oh, nothing very much. I just explained to him that Ellen had thrown me over. Why do you ask?”
Fancy’s teeth gritted together. “You’re lying. He would not have looked as he did if all you had told him was that you were no longer engaged to Ellen. What did you tell him? I demand to know.”
Jonathan looked haughtily down his nose at her, annoyed that she had seen him with Hugh—and Hugh’s great distress. “I am afraid that the excitement of the day has been too much for you, and that you are overwrought and misinterpreted what you saw,” he said calmly. “Now, if you will excuse me?”
* * *
Fancy did not remember much of the remainder of the day. She knew she smiled and talked with many people, catching a glimpse of Chance, Ellen, and the others here and there, although she never did spy Hugh again. By the time the last guest had left and she was finally alone in her bedchamber once more, she was utterly exhausted—and miserable.
Tonight was her wedding night, and in just a few minutes she very much feared that her husband—her darkly charming, conniving, unprincipled, and utterly fascinating husband—was going to walk through the doorway and demand his conjugal rights. She prayed that for once Chance would show some restraint and consideration and not attempt to consummate their marriage tonight. She was hurt and angry; her spirits were in complete disarray and her defenses were in shambles; but worst of all, just the thought of Chance, of his intoxicating kisses and passionate possession, made her blood race and her heart, normally a very reliable organ, pound with excitement. She was thoroughly unnerved by her reaction just to the thought of making love with him. Attempting to shore up her crumbling defenses, she reminded herself angrily of every sin he had committed against her, deliberately fueling her rage and resentment.
Unaware of the passing time, she paced restlessly around her bedchamber, and the frothy confection of blond lace and pale gold silk that constituted her nightgown surged and billowed around her ankles with every step she took. Her hair had been brushed free of all powder and fell in soft coffee brown waves halfway down her back, the flickering candlelight glinting on the occasional red-gold strand among the dark mass.
Watching her agitated perambulations from his position in the doorway that led to the sitting room, Chance sighed. From her tense expression, it was apparent that his bride was not eagerly anticipating his arrival, and his mouth tightened.
Chance was half in shadow as he leaned casually against the doorjamb, his eyes fixed on Fancy’s slender form. His arms were crossed over his chest, and while he had abandoned his jacket and waistcoat, he was still wearing the remainder of his wedding clothes. Like Fancy, he had rid himself of any sign of powder in his thick black locks.
After the way they had parted, Chance had not been certain of his welcome. He had fully expected her bedroom door to be barred and locked, and the fact that it was not gave him a tiny glimmer of hope that she had decided to be . . . reasonable about their situation. That hope vanished when Fancy caught sight of him and, with a voice full of loathing, spat, “You. How dare you show your face to me?”
Suddenly relishing the battle to come—and the sweet victory he was determined would be his—Chance pushed himself away from the doorjamb. A crooked and far too appealing smile, as fa
r as Fancy was concerned, curved his lips. “Ah, well, unfortunately, the face comes with the rest of me,” he drawled. His smile widened into a full-fledged grin. Suggestively he added, “And it really was not my, er, face that I had planned on showing you this evening.”
Chapter Thirteen
At his words, a shocking urge to burst out laughing suddenly whipped through Fancy. Only by biting the inside of her cheek, and reminding herself what an irrepressible rascal Chance could be, was she able to keep command of herself. From the gleam that leaped instantly into his dark blue eyes, she suspected that he had guessed her amusement. Speaking in her most disdainful tones, she said, “I presume that is some of your common colonial humor? You will forgive me if I do not find it amusing.”
“Sweetheart, when a woman looks as you do, I would be willing to forgive her anything,” Chance murmured, closing the distance between them, “even a lack of humor.”
Her amusement fading, Fancy tried to summon up all the anguish and anger she had felt as she had fled the solarium earlier, but it was a futile endeavor. She had faced some hard, unpleasant facts during the time since that dreadful scene between them, and there was no use pretending otherwise. She was married to this infuriating creature with the teasing blue eyes. And despite all the reasons to the contrary for it not to have happened, she very much feared that, if she were not already, she was perilously close to being in love with him.
And yet, loving him or not, she was not about to fall tamely into his arms. He had hurt her and had had things too much his own way for far too long. For her own pride it was important that she make a stand, and she stiffened when his arms slipped around her and he pulled her next to his steelhoned body.
Deftly she avoided his kiss, twisting her head slightly so that his lips grazed her cheek instead of her mouth. “Don’t,” she said breathlessly, hating the little surge of excitement that went through her as soon as his arms had closed around her. Keeping her eyes locked on the luxurious fall of lace at the front of his shirt, she said swiftly, “We do not know each other very well . . . and I think it would be a good idea for us to become more, more c-c-comfortable with each other before we become i-i-intimate.”
A Heart for the Taking Page 21