A Sisterly Regard

by Judith B. Glad

  "You must be teasing me, Reggie. I cannot believe that they would so neglect him. Or that he could tell of it so hilariously, after being in danger of his life."

  "I give you my word. The tiger was a man-eater, and it was more important that he be eliminated than that one insignificant foreign devil's life be saved. Besides, it was only a little scratch and he was able to staunch the bleeding by wrapping it tightly with his neck cloth. Afterwards they were kind enough to carry him back to the village, along with the dead tiger, rather than leaving him to die in the jungle."

  "How do you know all these things? Are you acquainted with the author?" Realization struck her then. "Oh, Reggie, did you write this?"

  "I cannot tell a lie" His mouth twisted into a rueful smile. "I was short of funds when I returned from India and it was some time before I could draw on my late aunt's estate. The income from this book kept body and soul together for several months."

  He rose and came to stand behind her. After a slight hesitation, he laid his hand on her shoulder. "Now you have all my secrets. I dabble in agriculture and I write amusing little travelogues. Will you forgive me?"

  She reached to cover his hand with hers. "Forgive you?" she said softly. "There is nothing to forgive, unless it is your modesty in not telling the world of what you do. Why do you keep all this so secret?"

  "For fear of ridicule, my love."

  "No one would ridicule you, Reggie."

  "Perhaps not now. But when I was at Eton, I was known as 'Storky'. I was quite a figure of fun, for I had attained my full growth very early. At the age of twelve, I towered over all my contemporaries, yet was so thin that one of the older fellows claimed that if I turned sidewise, I would not cast a shadow.

  "No one took such a ludicrous fellow seriously. I adopted a manner of cool distance and cultivated a superior, somewhat sarcastic manner of speech. Sleepiness was apparently a result of my rapid growth, for it began about the same time. By the time I had reached my present height--before I was fifteen--I had learned to depend upon my unexpected naps to save me from ridicule or malicious pranks. Thereafter I pretended to nap frequently, until it became part of my persona."

  She drew him down to sit beside her. "How cruel children can be. But why did you not change, when you were grown? Why did you let everyone think you were a useless fribble?"

  "My father died when I was scarce sixteen. He had squandered his small fortune and had sold the manor that had been in the family for three generations. I was left destitute. My aunt had always paid my school fees, unbeknownst to me. When I discovered the depth of my obligation to her, I was consumed with guilt. The stepfather of one of my classmates was a nabob, and I went to him and applied for a position with his shipping firm. He sent me to India on a fact-finding mission, certain that a lad such as I would never be suspected of spying on his employees."

  A good choice, she decided, examining his face, still youthful and somewhat boyish. "How old were you then?"

  "Not yet seventeen." He looked beyond her, as if seeing far away places. "I played my part well, deliberately making myself a figure of ridicule, although often I hated doing so. Occasionally, when on holiday, I attempted to be myself, but found it uncomfortable. My few acquaintances accused me of acting high and mighty."

  "But when you came home--"

  "Old habits die hard. By then the habit of flippancy was well ingrained. Only my aunt and the Duchess ever knew that the real Reggie was hiding inside, afraid to expose himself to the world. Later, when we became friends, Mary saw through my façade too.

  "Herne Bradburn and I were close when we were at Eton together. He never ragged me, and often took my part against the others. When we met again, a few months ago, we resumed our friendship as if we had never been apart."

  "You poor man. How difficult it must have been, to play so repugnant a role for so long." Without thinking, she stroked his hair, letting her fingers trail through the silky waves. "Why did you not let me see the real Reggie when we first met? You must have known how I disliked the fop."

  "I was afraid. Even though Mary said you would like me better for being myself, I was afraid you would laugh at me."

  He knelt on the floor in front of her and took her hands in his. "I could not have borne that."

  "My dear sir, surely you knew I would prefer you as you are now?" Phaedra smiled into his troubled eyes. "The fop was amusing, but I could not see past his so elegant, so foolish clothing and manners. I came very near to having my father refuse your offer immediately, you know, for I knew I could not marry you as you were."

  "And can you as I am now?" His hands tightened on hers until she cried out.

  She bit her lip.

  His expression tightened, the faint lines bracketing his mouth deepening. "Can you, Phaedra?"

  "I...I think so," she said, "but I am still not sure. Oh, my dear, can you not wait a little longer for my answer? I am grown quite fond of you in the past few days, but I am still uncertain whether it is love." Seeing the agony on his face, she reached out and touched his lips. "Perhaps you had better not remind me of how I desire you, today, Reggie. It is not fair of me to allow you to hope, and it does quite shake my resolve to be sure of my own feelings."

  "Damn your resolve," he growled, lunging upwards and grabbing her about the waist. He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms about her.

  Although taken by surprise, Phaedra reacted as she would have if wrestling with a younger brother who outweighed her. She went limp.

  Her strategy very nearly worked. His arms relaxed somewhat and she was almost able to slide free.

  "Oh, no, my dear, You won't get away so easily." He pulled her close against him.

  His arms were unbreakable bonds, his thighs hard and strong under her.

  "Let me go!" Was that weak, uncertain voice hers? She tried to free her arms from his embrace, even as he bent his head close and breathed against her ear.

  "Be still, love." He nuzzled her neck.

  The next instant she felt a cold touch, as if he had...licked? "Reggie...Reggieee?" Her will weakened, as his tongue and teeth explored the curve where her neck and shoulder met. Hot breath, cold moisture, tiny not-quite-hurting nips of his teeth, all worked against her intention to remain strong, resistant to his pleadings.

  "Turn toward me, Phaedra. I want to kiss you."

  "Nooo." Yet her head rotated on her neck, as if it was a thing apart from her. She looked into...drowned in...his gray eyes.

  He bent his head even closer. "Yesss." The barest sound, a whisper touch of breath against her mouth. "Kiss me, Phaedra."

  All inclination to resist him fled and she relaxed in his embrace. The next instant his mouth covered hers, hot, insistent, demanding.

  After an endless interval, he lifted his head long enough to whisper, "I love you, Phaedra. Can you doubt it?" Giving her no opportunity to reply, he kissed her again and again, her eyelids, her cheeks, her chin. His tongue swept along the line of her jaw to her ear. His teeth closed on her earlobe, sending such heat through her body that she wondered if she would not melt.

  When she felt him pulling at the neck of her gown, she had no wish to resist. Instead she strained her body against his. Reggie loosened the strings at the neck and pulled the bodice even lower, pressing hot kisses on the upper swell of her breasts. When she felt the feather touch of his tongue on her nipple, she shuddered and arched herself against him.

  The sound of the door opening registered dimly on her consciousness.

  "Phaedra!"

  "Reggie!"

  Reggie loomed over her, blocking her view of her mother and the Duchess. And theirs of her. She attempted to pull up the neck of her gown with nerveless fingers.

  "Well, Phaedra," Mama said in a voice portending disaster, "I am happy to see you have accepted Mr. Farwell's offer at last. We were quite wondering how long it would take you. Do tidy yourself. Mr. Martin is not far behind us and it would not do for him to see you in your dishabille."


  Abashed, embarrassed, and perhaps just a bit jubilant, Reggie straightened his neck cloth. When Lady Gifford came to smooth her daughter's hair, he stepped aside, but did not go far. If there was going to be a scene, protecting her was his first responsibility.

  Phaedra stared at her mother, tears welling in her eyes. He had the impression that her first choice would be to run screaming from the room, to hide forever in her bedchamber. Seeing her poised to leap to her feet, he sat upon the sofa's arm and put a restraining arm about her shoulders.

  "There, you look more presentable," Lady Gifford said, giving Phaedra's hair a last pat. "Now behave yourself until we can be alone, for I have something to say about your unwise behavior. Reggie, you will behave yourself as well. Even if you are betrothed, there are certain rules of conduct that must be met." She glanced down at her daughter. "You may, if you fear she will become hysterical, hold her hand."

  Reggie removed his arm from Phaedra's shoulders and took her hand. She did not respond to his quick squeeze.

  When he met her eyes and smiled, she remained sober. His heart sank.

  As if nothing untoward had occurred, the ladies requested his advice concerning the ball. They asked which of his acquaintances in Bath and London should receive invitations. He did his best to give coherent answers, but his primary attention was upon Phaedra. She was being uncharacteristically silent and passive.

  Shortly thereafter Lady Mary and Mr. Martin entered, having returned from a gallop. The conversation became general and no one but Reggie seemed to notice that Phaedra took no part in it. The discussion had endured nearly an hour before she extricated her hand from his and excused herself. By that time the small ball had grown to a grand affair, with a guest list numbering more than two hundred. A date was set for two nights before the Hazelbournes' return to London. The long disused ballroom was to be opened and refurbished. An orchestra would be brought down from London.

  Wishing he could escape and follow Phaedra, Reggie ventured the opinion that perhaps their plans were becoming overly grandiose, both Lady Gifford and the duchess turned on him.

  "Don't be foolish," the Duchess told him. "It will be just the thing to silence any lingering gossip. There will be nothing havy-cavy about Phaedra's betrothal. Not if I have my say."

  "How else should we celebrate your engagement?" Lady Gifford demanded.

  He cast a pleading glance at Mary, who smiled evilly. "Give it up, Reggie. With your reputation and all the talk about Chloe's clandestine wedding, you have no choice but to make a splash with yours."

  He buried his face in his hands, certain he had sealed his fate by his lack of self-control. Phaedra would never consent to be his wife if forced to be part of a gaudy spectacle.

  * * * *

  Upon escaping the library, Phaedra ran to her bedchamber and cast herself upon her bed to weep.

  Her mother had congratulated her on finally accepting Reggie, but she had done nothing of the sort. She had merely been kissing him. Well, perhaps it had been more than a perfectly chaste kiss.

  A few kisses do not constitute a betrothal, do they?

  Her skin still burned in memory of Reggie's lips on her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. She had allowed him to go far beyond what was proper, even for an engaged couple--which they were not.

  And will never be. He will not wish to marry a...there must be a word for the sort of woman who allows such liberties. A wanton? A tart? Oh, no!

  Confused and miserable, she burrowed into her pillow. Her sobs were so violent that she did not hear the door open nor her mother walk to her bedside. Only when a cool hand was laid on her brow did she become aware that she was no longer alone.

  "Well, Phaedra?" Lady Gifford said. "What have you to say for yourself?"

  "Oh, Mama, I have ruined myself," she sobbed. "I had not accepted him, and now he will not have me, so depraved have I shown myself."

  "Nonsense! He would have you no matter what. But you had not accepted him? How can you say so?" Mama's expression was a mixture of condemnation and consternation. "Surely you knew better than to allow any such liberties if you do not intend to marry him. Phaedra, I trusted you."

  "It is all so terrible, Mama. I told Reggie I would probably accept him, but wished more time in which to decide. Then he kissed me and I forgot everything but that." She burst into fresh sobs.

  "Stop it, Phaedra! Right now. You may have wished more time, but your behavior gave him his answer. Unless you truly despise Mr. Farwell, I am very much afraid that you must marry him." She paused, then added, "Or never see him again."

  "Oh, I could not bear that!" Phaedra cried, as she pushed herself upright. "I could not bear to be parted from him, even though I am not sure I love him."

  "Your feelings for him bear a great resemblance to love, my dear. That's all right, then," she said, patting Phaedra's shoulder. "Do try to sleep a while. Your eyes are quite red and swollen. It would not do for you to appear until you are looking more the thing." She pulled Phaedra's slippers from her feet and spread a light blanket over her. "I will have Ellen wake you in time to dress before you meet with Mr. Farwell, for you must formally accept him, you know. I will send him to you in the blue salon shortly before dinner. Sleep well, my dear."

  Surprisingly, Phaedra fell into a deep slumber almost immediately. When Ellen woke her, she felt wonderful. Her confusion had been replaced by a calm certainty. She knew the right choice to make and she would make it without a qualm.

  Only a slight redness about her eyes remained of her emotional storm. A few minutes under a cold compress erased even that. She was soon dressed in the ice yellow gown she had first worn to Almack's, and went to meet Reggie with only a small twinge of doubt.

  Reggie was waiting in the blue salon, immersed in pessimistic thoughts, when the door opened.

  "Reggie?" came a hesitant voice from beyond it.

  "Here," he answered, dreading the coming interview. He was certain it would be full of tears and recriminations.

  "Yes."

  "I said I am here, Phaedra. Do come in."

  "I cannot until you reply." She was standing out of sight, no matter how he craned his neck to peer through the door.

  "I did reply. I told you I was in here."

  "That is the wrong reply."

  "Well then, what the devil is the right one? Will you come in here where I can see you?"

  "I did not ask a question, I gave an answer. The answer is Yes." Was that a giggle? Impossible.

  He stood abruptly and started to the door.

  "If you come out here, I will run away. You must reply."

  Feeling as if he had somehow fallen into bedlam, he said, in his most foppish tone, "What, ma'am, was the question?"

  "The same one you asked earlier."

  "Damn it, woman, will you have done?" He threw himself back into his chair. "I am in no mood to play silly games. Tell me what you wish me to say, and I will say it."

  Again the giggle.

  As if the sun had suddenly burst from behind a black cloud, Reggie knew what words she wanted. "I love you, Phaedra. Will you be my wife?"

  She came running in the door and threw herself into his arms. The face she lifted to his was rosy, but there was no mistaking the love glowing from her eyes.

  "I knew you would understand, Reggie, if you would only try. Yes, I do love you, and yes I will marry you. When can we do it?"

  "Soon, my love. Very soon," he said softly, as he leaned down to kiss her lips.

  Many kisses later, Lady Gifford knocked on the door and reminded them that the dinner bell had run long since.

  To his great surprise, no one at the table commented on Phaedra's pink cheeks and swollen lips.

  * * * *

  The Duchess's ball was said to be a resounding success, but afterward Phaedra had no memory of it, except for the moment when she and Reggie stood before everyone and their betrothal was announced. Her life became a whirl of activity when they returned to Town--parties, balls, soirees, mus
icales, and any number of other social events. She and Reggie were invited everywhere, and Mama insisted that they accept every invitation humanly possible.

  They had little time together, even chaperoned. Now that they were formally betrothed, Phaedra had almost no opportunity to be reminded of her desire for Reggie. He went to Oakhurst to arrange for the house to be prepared for her. She was thrown into choosing her bride clothes, with fittings and shopping expeditions every day, until her head swam.

  Papa decided he and Reggie should meet with their solicitors to do the thing in style. Mama required that Phaedra's presentation to the Queen go ahead as planned. The wedding was set for late May.

  A week before her wedding day, Phaedra received an almost incoherent letter from Chloe. Written in her sister's usual lackadaisical style, the missive was filled with congratulations. Chloe vowed that she was every day more in love with her new husband, to Phaedra's great relief. There was no news of an imminent heir, which brought both a smile and a sigh from Mama. The invitation for everyone to spend Christmas at Wilderlake was repeated, and extended to include Lady Mary and Mr. Martin, who had, to everyone's amazement, emerged as that young lady's most persistent suitor.

  The day finally arrived. Phaedra felt not a trace of nervousness. Her ivory satin wedding gown and French lace veil were her mother's, and the large sapphire she wore on her finger had been given her by Reggie.

  When she walked up the aisle of St. George's, Hanover Square, on her father's arm, she was poised and self confident. Her wedding vows, repeated in a firm, clear voice, should have been audible in the farthest corners of the church. All doubts gone, she looked forward to complete happiness as Mrs. Reginald Farwell.

  Reggie, on the other had, was obviously distraught. He voice never rose above a whisper. His hand shook as he placed the golden band on her finger. At the intimate wedding breakfast for family and close friends that was held at the Duchess' town house, his demeanor did not improve. She overheard several of his friends teasing him as she descended the staircase in her traveling gown to where he awaited her.