Drayton heaved a reluctant sigh and looked away. What she said was true. He hadn’t been fair to her. He had married Ambrosia without giving much thought to Carolyn’s pride, without offering her any explanation. But the feelings he’d had for Carolyn had been nothing like the ones he’d felt for Ambrosia. Their affair had been a shallow one for him, a physical one. She had offered herself to him when he’d thought Ambrosia was gone forever from his life. She had flattered him and bolstered his masculine pride, and most of all, she had allowed him to forget. He had used her, in the same way he had used women ever since Kathryn’s death. And he had taken her the same way he had taken the others, in a mindless way that had nothing to do with gentleness, nothing to do with honest intimacy. And afterward, he had only been more aware of the emptiness that was so deep inside him.
But she had not been like the others, women he had paid well for their services, women who had simply been plying their trade. Carolyn had given herself freely, had risked her good name to share his bed. And though he had given her pleasure in return, he knew that he owed her more.
“I apologize, Carolyn,” he said finally. “I ought to have told you myself.’’
Her eyes warmed at his apology and again her thumb stroked his hand. “All is forgiven, darling,” she whispered. The dance was ending as she spoke the words. She sighed as he released her, and her eyes reluctantly scanned the crowded dance floor. When he did not request another dance, she rationalized that there were too many prying eyes taking in their every move for him to do so. “I want to see you again, Drayton.”
“I’m very busy these days, Carolyn.”
“So I’ve heard. But you’ve already told the Powers you’d come to their dinner party week after next, so I’ll at least see you there.”
He started to make an excuse. He had no intention of beginning things again, of risking scandal by picking up the pieces of a relationship that had never been what he wanted. And there was a much more important reason why he would not seek comfort in Carolyn’s or any other woman’s arms now. There was Mandy.
She smiled prettily up at him and tapped her fan playfully on his lapel. “And if you don’t come to the party week after next,” she added, almost as if she could read his thoughts, ‘’then you can expect me to pay a visit to that business of yours...”
Chapter 41
The April sun was shining bright and strong in a clear blue sky, melting away the last remnants of winter’s snow. Ambrosia gazed wistfully out on the lovely spring day and thought again of going off by herself to enjoy the warmth, the beauty of nature. But Lily had been so excited about the prospect of seeing her play cards again with the Sprindles that Ambrosia could not refuse. A series of snowstorms in late February and early March had kept the sisters from a rematch for weeks, but the roads were in fair condition again, and the sisters would be coming here today, anxious for a rematch after the sound defeat they’d suffered before.
Isabel shocked Lily by refusing any beverage but tea, obviously preparing to play some very serious poker this afternoon. Victoria shyly accepted a brandy, but only one, and was also quite subdued as she began her game. Ambrosia played indifferently, but her cool, unreadable expression stymied their best efforts to outplay her, since it was impossible for them to tell when she was bluffing and when she was not. After winning several hands in a row, Ambrosia took in the cards and prepared to deal, deciding that she would purposely Jose the next hand regardless. Isabel’s disposition had soured with each round until she was tossing cutting remarks at everyone.
Isabel lifted her cards and slowly fanned them open. A scowl darkened her features, telling Ambrosia that she had not been dealt a good hand. Ambrosia’s eyes moved to Victoria, who always took a bit longer to arrange her cards. Her mouth was slightly tight, telling Ambrosia that she probably would be drawing to a straight or a flush, taking a gamble with none too good odds. Both Isabel and Victoria had been taught all the hard and fast rules of playing poker. They knew when to wager, when to check, and when to fold. But neither woman knew anything about keeping a straight face. And neither woman knew how to read an opponent’s eyes, unless that opponent was Lily. After a single round of hands, Ambrosia had been able to tell each player’s cards with amazing accuracy. She played a very different game than the other women at the table-a man’s game.
Just as Ambrosia had guessed, Victoria requested a single card. Lily requested two, and Isabel three. Isabel’s eyes narrowed as Ambrosia dealt herself a pair of cards. The older woman lifted her own cards and slowly fanned them open. A worthless pair of deuces! She slammed her cards on the table and shot Ambrosia an arrogant scowl. “It isn’t really proper for a lady to win every hand,” she announced suddenly, her temper getting the best of her. “I haven’t won every hand,” Ambrosia responded coolly.
“You’ve won almost every hand,” Isabel shot back.
Ambrosia straightened a bit at that and a frown pulled at her brow. “What about all the times you won?” Lily inserted defensively. “Why, you’ve beaten me soundly for the past ten years!”
Isabel’s brow darkened as she turned to Lily. “I am a guest,” she informed Lily haughtily. Her glare slid to Ambrosia’s cool green-gray eyes. “She isn’t.” She smiled a little, a malicious smile. “Sometimes I wonder exactly what she is...”
“Ambrosia is my nephew’s wife,” Lily returned frigidly. “And you’d best remember that she is family, or you will no longer be welcome in this house.” Ambrosia had never heard Lily’s voice sound so stern.
In response, Isabel assumed an innocent expression of surprise. “Is Drayton still welcome here?” she questioned.
Lily’s eyes narrowed. Isabel could be sharp-tongued when she put her mind to it, and she was putting her mind to it now. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded. “Well,” Isabel shrugged, “He certainly seems to have forgotten that she’s his wife. Everyone talks about the way he lives like a bachelor and carries on with Carolyn Craig.”
At the mention of Carolyn’s name, Ambrosia’s cheeks paled. She had not known that Carolyn was in New York. She had not even thought of the woman for months, since they’d left Charleston. But now she realized how foolish she had been to think that the woman was a part of Drayton’s past. Carolyn had been so possessive of Drayton, even after their marriage. And now gossip linked their names, and everyone thought that...Ambrosia’s eyes grew dazed and distant, though her face gave little other indication of how the news had shocked her, devastated her. She rose numbly from her chair and excused herself, seeming yet in perfect control- though her exit from the parlor was a hurried one.
In a sobering burst of remorse, Isabel half rose from her chair and called the girl’s name. But it was too late to call back her words, too late to negate the damage. Isabel sought some spark of understanding in Lily’s eyes, but the older woman’s face was hard as she struggled to her feet and followed after Ambrosia. The card game was over, Isabel realized. And there might never be another one.
By the time Lily reached the hallway, Ambrosia was nearly up the stairs. “Ambrosia?”
Ambrosia stopped short, gripping the banister tightly. Lily struggled up the first step, wanting very much to put a comforting arm about Ambrosia’s shoulder. “Ambrosia, please come down here.”
Still facing away from her, Ambrosia shook her head. “Ambrosia, I want to speak with you.”
“No, I-” Her voice broke painfully and she rubbed the back of her hand across her cheeks.
“Please,” Lily urged. “Please come with me. We can talk in the library without being disturbed.”
Ambrosia swallowed hard. “I-I was just going to my room...”
“Please?”
It was the softness of the plea that made Ambrosia turn and slowly descend the stairs. Her eyes were downcast, and her arms were wrapped nervously, protectively about herself. Lily laid a hand on her arm, and when the greengray eyes lift
ed, she gave Ambrosia an encouraging smile. “Come along. We need to talk.”
“You must forgive Isabel,” Lily told her quietly after she had taken a seat before the fireplace. Ambrosia had declined the chair nearby and stood near the mantel, her arms still wrapped about herself as she stared at the empty hearth. “She is quite an obnoxious loser, and I’m afraid that’s something I wasn’t aware of until now. It’s my fault, really, for allowing her to-’’
“Your fault?” Ambrosia cut in sharply. “It isn’t your fault or Isabel’s either. It’s mine.” She shook her head in an effort to win control, but the tears shown bright in her eyes as she went on. “I should never have married him! I should never have had his child!’’
“I won’t listen to that kind of talk, Ambrosia,” Lily returned firmly. ‘’How can you think for a moment that Mandy was a mistake? And Drayton cares for you-”
‘’He despises me. He cannot even bear to look at me.’’
‘’Only because he is so very much in love with you, and you have hurt him so deeply.’’
“No!” Ambrosia shook her head again, tears rushing down her cheeks now. “He never loved me.”
“Ambrosia,” Lily said calmly. “Come here. Sit down.”
After a long hesitation, Ambrosia moved slowly to take the chair near Lily. Her eyes fixed on her fingers, which were laced tightly in her lap. Lily was relieved to see the tears coming so quickly. The emotions that had been kept too private, too tightly reined, were finally being released. “You’ve been very unhappy these past weeks, since Christmas. I’ve seen it in your eyes. Tell me what is making you so unhappy.”
Ambrosia’s eyes squeezed tightly shut. She gave no answer.
“You are in love with him, aren’t you?”
Ambrosia bit her lip hard and her fingers moved to grasp the arms of the chair. She wanted more than anything else to deny it. Yet she knew it was true.
“It’s not so hopeless as you imagine, Ambrosia. Drayton is your husband, after all. And he still cares for you- ‘’
Ambrosia sprang from her chair and began to pace the floor before the hearth. The gesture reminded Lily so very much of Drayton that she almost smiled. How alike the two of them were, denying their feelings, trying desperately to run away from what was deep inside.
Ambrosia stopped her pacing after a time, regaining some of her composure as she stared again at the empty hearth. “You don’t understand, Lily. It’s too late. I’ve hurt him too deeply to ever hope for forgiveness. I’ve destroyed everything.’’
“You’re being childish, Ambrosia,” Lily began.
Lily was shocked when Ambrosia spun about, her green eyes bright with sudden anger. ‘’You accuse me of being childish? How dare you! You know nothing of what was between us! What could you know of bitterness? Of despair? What do you know about losing everything you care about?” Ambrosia’s voice broke and she turned away.
It was a long moment before Lily responded, and then her voice was soft, a whisper, with all trace of confidence lacking. “I know a great deal...a great deal...” At the sudden change in her voice, Ambrosia turned to face her. She watched as Lily pulled herself to her feet and hobbled slowly to the far bookshelf. She removed several thick volumes from an upper shelf before she located a half-filled decanter bottle of whiskey which had been cleverly concealed behind the shorter books. Ambrosia’s face fully reflected her shock as Lily removed the stopper and took a swallow directly from the bottle. She let out a sigh of pain or relief as she set it down again. “You will have to forgive me,” Lily said in a voice that was hoarse from the effect of the strong whiskey. Her blue eyes remained fixed on the cut-glass bottle. “I don’t normally have company when I drink here in the library. It’s been rather my secret these past years. Drayton disapproves of women drinking strong spirits, you know.’’
Ambrosia shook her head, her eyes still wide and stunned. She hadn’t really known that, though she might have guessed as much. There weren’t many men or women, for that matter, who approved of women who drank strong liquor.
Lily lifted her eyes and leveled them frankly on Ambrosia. “I’ve shocked you, haven’t I? Well, I’m afraid I shall shock you quite a bit more with what I’m about to tell you. You must understand, it’s not the type of thing I tell everyone. But there is a need for me to tell you now, and so I will. Though I certainly don’t enjoy remembering...’’ She took another deep gulp of the whiskey before replacing the stopper and concealing it in its former hiding place. Slowly, haltingly, she moved to take the chair behind the desk, placing a distance between herself and Ambrosia, meeting her eyes for a long moment before her eyes slid significantly to the portrait of her late husband. Ambrosia’s eyes followed.
“He was not a handsome man,” Lily began matter-offactly. “He was shorter than I by several inches, and he loved to eat chocolates, so he was never trim and dashing like the men I admired. But he was a good man, very rich and very successful, and very much in love with me. And I was ambitious and wanted all the things that he could give me.
“I was young and beautiful then, the toast of many, many fine gentlemen, though I wasn’t quite respectable enough for most of them to court openly. Many men had offered me...many things besides marriage, but I wanted the security and the respectability of a man’s name. And so I married Henry.”
Her eyes changed then and her voice hardened. “My brother James and I were two of a kind. We had both run away from a strict home life where there was never enough of anything to seek our fortunes. He somehow managed to marry a girl with a fairly good-size inheritance, and along with the money I convinced Henry to loan him, he built a profitable business making and selling carriage paints. Everything was simple to James and me. We knew what we wanted and we went after it. Henry offered me what I wanted, and so I became his wife. The fact that I was hopelessly in love with another man at the time had nothing to do with my decision. The other man was neither rich, nor free to marry me. But he was ambitious too, so he understood.” She lifted a silver letter opener from the desk and studied it, her words coming more slowly, with more emotion than before. “It could not have been easy for Henry those first years. He must have known that I was unfaithful to him, that others were laughing at him behind his back and calling him a fool. But I never thought about what he was feeling.” She paused. “He desperately wanted children,” she said softly. “He would have made such a wonderful father....” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “I made very certain that I would never have to bear any child of his.” She gave a weak smile. “Perhaps that much of it was for the best. There would have been no guarantee that he was the father, anyway.”
Ambrosia paled, so utterly shocked at what Lily was saying that she dropped woodenly into a chair. Lily sighed and laid aside the letter opener without looking up, never seeing Ambrosia’s reaction. “When Drayton’s mother passed away, he was only four years old. It was Henry’s idea to take him in. I wanted nothing to do with him, though he was my nephew. I told Henry that the boy was James’s problem and not mine. But Henry argued that James was too busy to be a proper father. And three years later, when James married a woman with a son of her own who had no intentions of sharing his mother, Henry insisted on giving Drayton a home. It was the first time Henry had ever refused to listen to me, and I was quite put out. I’d made up my mind at the very beginning that I wouldn’t allow a child to interfere with my life, especially someone else’s brat.”
She let out a lengthy breath. “I had everything I wanted then,” she said softly. “Everything I had ever dreamed of having...” Her voice was wistful. Her smile faded slowly. “And then I became ill.” Her face paled slightly and clearly reflected her grief and pain. ‘’It was a sudden illness. It came upon me with no warning at all. I simply fainted one day, and when I woke, I could no longer move my left arm and leg. Little by little the feeling came back to me, but the control did not. One of the doctors rec
ommended a few weeks in the country, and Henry immediately brought me here. This was his parents’ summer house, and he loved it here, but I abhorred it. It was much too quiet and too far from everything important. But he left his work and his friends in the city and brought me here, to care for me.” Her mouth twitched in a timorous smile. ‘’There were so many visitors at first. So many flowers and so many letters. I had many, many friends, you know.” She shook her head and frowned. “But they all forgot so quickly! Or perhaps...’’ she said with a thoughtful inflection, ‘’perhaps they realized right away what it took me a long time to know. That I would never be the same again.”
She met Ambrosia’s eyes and smiled, her voice small and full of wonder. “Only Henry stayed with me. The man I had made a fool of left everything and everyone else and stayed with me. He used to carry me into the garden like a child, and to the apple orchard for picnics like the ones we’d had before we were married. He used to say that he was grateful for the time we spent together…’’ She looked away, and her voice hardened. ‘’But I wanted nothing from him. Nothing! I wanted to be whole again. It was the only thing I wanted. And the only thing,” she went on quietly, “that I couldn’t have.”
She picked up the letter opener again and toyed with it nervously, her eyes far away. “At first I prayed to God for a miracle. But I didn’t really believe in God, and I thought that even if He were real, He would sooner punish me for my sins than grant me a favor. I became a prisoner in my own body. I felt so terribly alone in my suffering! Everyone else could run and dance”-she grasped the letter opener tightly-’’while I was a worthless cripple. Nothing anyone said or did made a difference to me. Nothing until-”
Her eyes flashed with amusement at the same time she blinked away a tear. “Until one day Drayton brought home a horrid-looking little dog who’d been badly wounded in a dogfight.” She chuckled softly and shook her head. “He brought the filthy, half-dead thing right here, into this room, and announced that he was going to care for it-can you imagine? He was always bringing home lost animals in those days, raising the ones that were orphaned, nursing the sick ones back to health. He had the shed full of them, and I allowed it because it kept him occupied. To be perfectly honest, I was happy to see him spending his time elsewhere. I did not want to be bothered with a nine-year-old boy. After my illness, I resented his presence in my life more than ever.
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