An Affair Without End

by Candace Camp

Vivian and the jeweler examined several bracelets and earrings while Oliver waited patiently. In the end, she needed one of the bracelets and two pairs of earrings, as well as an exquisite onyx-and-ivory cameo brooch.

  A few minutes later, they were back in Vivian’s carriage, her bag of purchases resting on the seat beside her. She cast a smile at Oliver, saying, “There, that wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

  “It was . . . enlightening. You said that you were interested in jewelry, but I did not realize the extent of your knowledge until I heard you talking to Brookman.”

  “You mean I am not so empty-headed as you thought?”

  Oliver looked pained. “I have never thought you empty-headed. In fact, I have always believed your head is full of more ideas than is quite safe.”

  Vivian chuckled. “You are always a clever opponent.”

  He raised his brows. “Is that how you view me—as an enemy?”

  She tilted her head a little, considering. “No, not an enemy. A worthy member of the opposition, let’s say.”

  “I suppose that is better than being a tyrant—as I recall you once called me.”

  “No! Did I? That sounds excessively rude.”

  “Mm. In your defense, I believe I had told you to leave the house and not show your face again.”

  “That does sound a bit autocratic.”

  “At the time you had just switched my tooth powder for some sort of soap.”

  “Oh, no.” Vivian had to laugh. “I was a complete handful then, wasn’t I? It’s a wonder your grandfather did not bar me from the house, as well.”

  “I had the good sense not to tell him.”

  She raised her eyes. “Why? Surely you weren’t trying to protect me?”

  “Don’t give me credit for such nobility. No, it was to save myself from a proper tongue-lashing for being unable to handle a fourteen-year-old chit.” He paused. “He would have been right. I hadn’t the first idea what to do about you.”

  “You were too much of a gentleman, no doubt, to give me a taste of my own medicine. Seyre was apt to give me a dunk in the pond when I drove him to distraction.”

  “Too full of my own dignity, more like. I would have liked to chase you down the stairs, but I felt it beneath a university man.” He smiled deprecatingly. “God knows why I felt it necessary to retain my dignity with you.”

  “It does seem peculiar, given that I seemed to have so little of it myself.”

  He did not look at her, instead concentrating on smoothing out the supple leather of his gloves as he said, “Did you mean what you said earlier? About you having a, being, um . . .”

  “Infatuated with you?” Vivian gave an expressive shrug of her shoulders. “I would scarcely admit to such an embarrassing thing if it were not true, now would I?”

  He looked up at her then, his gray eyes dark in the confines of the carriage. “I never had the slightest idea.”

  “Not surprising. I did my utmost to hide it. But to someone who knows adolescent girls, it was probably quite obvious. Why else torment you so?”

  “An odd choice of actions, I would think.”

  She laughed. “I might not have had any dignity, but I did have my pride. I knew you wouldn’t notice a skinny, orange-headed girl otherwise—and better by far to be reviled than ignored.”

  He studied her for a long moment, and this time Vivian turned her head away.

  Silence stretched between them, broken finally by Vivian’s saying, “Ah, we are at your house. I’m sorry—I hope you did not wish to go somewhere else. I did not think to ask you.”

  “This is perfect. In fact, you should come inside. Fitz and Eve and the girls arrived yesterday evening. I am sure they would all love to see you.”

  A smile lit Vivian’s face. “As I would love to see them.”

  Eve, the earl’s new sister-in-law, was Vivian’s oldest and dearest friend. Widowed and penniless, Eve had been the perfect choice for a companion for the Bascombe sisters, the Earl of Stewkesbury’s American cousins. She had, like Vivian, been charmed by the forthright, engaging young women. In turn, Fitzhugh Talbot, the earl’s handsome half brother, had been even more charmed by Eve, and they had been married three months ago. The couple had spent six weeks on their honeymoon on the Continent before they returned to the Talbot family estate, Willowmere, and Vivian had not seen her friend since the wedding. It had been an equally long time since she had seen Lily and Camellia Bascombe.

  Apparently someone had been watching out one of the front windows, for Vivian and Oliver had hardly stepped into the foyer when the sound of running feet came from upstairs.

  “Vivian! Vivian!”

  As usual, the first one down the stairs was the ragged black-and-white dog. Pirate whirled and jumped around them in ecstasy until Stewkesbury made a quick gesture with his hand, upon which the animal let out one last yap and dropped into a sitting position, watching the earl with bright eyes, tongue lolling from his mouth in a way that made him look even more absurd.

  An instant later two young women hurried down the stairs toward them. Lily, slightly in front, was the prettier of the two, at least in the most conventional sense. Her light brown hair was arranged in an attractive cluster of bouncing curls, adorned with a blue ribbon, and her blue eyes sparkled. She had a rosebud mouth and a strawberries-and-cream complexion, and her lively personality shone in her face. She wore a blue spencer that matched the color of the pattern in her sprig muslin dress.

  Her sister Camellia was obviously as disinterested in style as Lily was attentive to it. Her dress lacked frills and furbelows, and she wore no ribbons or other ornamentation. Her dark blond hair was braided into a single long plait and wrapped around her head in a simple, easy-to-manage style. Her gray gaze was level and without artifice, and though her features were even and attractive, some said that a firmness about her mouth and chin detracted from her feminine beauty.

  “Vivian!” Lily cried again as they rounded the staircase, throwing out her arms as she trotted down the last few steps. Vivian rushed forward to hug her, then turned to hug Camellia, as well. All the while Lily chattered away happily, “It’s so wonderful to see you! It’s been deadly dull since you went home. Aren’t you happy to be in London? I love it here; I don’t think I shall ever want to leave.”

  “You might give poor Vivian a chance to get a word in,” suggested an amused voice from the top of the stairs, and Vivian looked up to see her friend Eve coming down the stairs.

  “Eve!” Vivian went up to greet the woman, hugging her, then standing back to examine Eve’s stylish dress. “You bought that in Paris, didn’t you? It’s so utterly au courant!”

  “See?” Lily said in a triumphant aside to her sister Camellia. “I told you Vivian would be able to tell the difference.” Turning to Vivian, Lily explained, “Cam said she couldn’t see why Eve’s Parisian gowns are any better than the ones we have.”

  Vivian laughed, linking arms with Eve as they came down the last few steps to join the other two women. “When it’s a matter of guns, I will rely on Camellia, but when it comes to frocks . . .”

  “If you rely on me, you’ll come to ruin,” Camellia finished for Vivian, grinning.

  “Exactly.”

  “Come, let’s go into the drawing room and catch up on everything. I’ll ring Hooper for tea and cakes.” Eve turned toward Stewkesbury, who had picked up the dog in one hand and was idly scratching him behind the ears with the other. “Would you care to join us, Oliver?”

  With a look that bordered comically on horror, the earl refused the invitation and retired to his study with Pirate. The ladies crossed the entryway and went into the drawing room.

  While Eve rang for the butler and ordered tea, the others clustered together on a sofa and nearby chairs. Lily immediately held out her left hand to Vivian, wiggling her fingers to make the diamond ring on her third finger flash in the sun.

  “Ooh, how lovely!” Vivian took Eve’s hand and drew it closer, bending over the ring.
/>   “Neville gave it to me last month when he came to visit.”

  “Visit!” Cam snorted. “The man has scarce been away from Willowmere!”

  Lily grimaced at her sister. “Just wait until you become engaged. You’ll see how long it seems when he’s away. It’s been a month now since I’ve seen Neville. And don’t tell me he writes me letters. They aren’t the same, and, besides, his hen-scratching is the very devil to read.”

  “I doubt I’ll ever get engaged,” Cam retorted.

  “Of course you will. That’s why we’re here for the Season—or you are, at least.” Lily grinned. “I am here to get married.”

  “When is that happy event?” Vivian asked.

  “The end of June. I told Cousin Oliver I didn’t care about a big wedding; I’d rather have a simple ceremony right now. But he’s most insistent on my waiting. He thinks I’m too young, but I ask you—how can you be too young when you know your own heart?”

  Vivian smiled at the rush of words, spoken with Lily’s usual drama. “How indeed?”

  Lily nodded. “I knew you’d understand.” Then she gave a light shrug. “But it won’t be so bad as long as Neville is here, too, and it will be rather fun to have a grand wedding. Besides, Eve said I must order a proper trousseau, and it will be wonderful to have a lovely wedding gown. And Lady Carr is insistent that she throw a grand ball to announce our engagement. She already has it planned.”

  “I suspect she has had the plans for years,” Eve added with a grin. “I’ve gotten reams of paper from her about the event. I’m sorry, Vivian, but I am afraid Lady Carr is most insistent on having the engagement party soon—before you even have a ball to introduce Lily and Camellia.”

  Vivian shrugged. “I will defer to the groom’s mother. I can hardly deny the poor woman the pleasure. She has been waiting years for Neville to settle down. But it is clear that we must get to the business of buying clothes immediately.”

  “Yes!” Lily cried with delight.

  “I don’t understand why we need more clothes,” Camellia said, holding out her skirt to the sides and looking at it. “We just bought these a few months ago, and we have so many of them.”

  “But they will never do for the Season,” Vivian told her. “Those were fine in the country—and they will do as day dresses here. But you must have many more gowns for all the parties—evening gowns, ball gowns, not to mention more walking dresses and day dresses and spencers and pelisses. Gloves for day and evening wear, fans, handkerchiefs, hats—and I really think a muff would be in order; it’s still cold enough.”

  Camellia stared at Vivian, slack-jawed. “That could take days.”

  “My, yes,” Vivian agreed, and glanced over at Eve. “That’s why we should start tomorrow.”

  Eve nodded. “I was just about to write you a note, Vivian, saying we had arrived and suggesting that very thing. But then you came in with Oliver—and I must say it could not have surprised me more if he had walked into the house with the Prince himself as his companion!”

  “Oh, no,” Vivian protested. “Prinny and Stewkesbury would be a much greater oddity—you know that Prinny calls Oliver the Earl of Strictsbury?”

  “Does he really?” Camellia laughed, and Vivian nodded, dimpling mischievously.

  “Yes, but that is not the point.” Eve would not be diverted. “Why were you with Oliver?”

  “’Twas nothing, really.” Vivian shrugged. “I met Stewkesbury as I was leaving to go to Brookman and Son, and he decided to escort me. You know Oliver; he is such a stickler about appearances.” Though she might have told Eve the whole story if they had been alone, Vivian was not about to divulge Oliver’s apology and the reasons for it in front of his young cousins. “And he told me you had arrived yesterday, so of course I had to come see you.”

  “And we’re very glad you did.” Eve turned as the butler entered the room, carrying a large silver tray, and for the next few minutes they were all occupied in the ritual of serving and partaking in tea and cakes.

  After the butler had departed and the first pangs of their hunger had been sated, the talk turned once again to the upcoming engagement ball and the other parties that awaited them this Season. Vivian, glancing over at Camellia, could not help but notice that she seemed unaccustomedly quiet. Though she was not the effervescent sort that her sister Lily was, Camellia was usually quick to speak her mind on almost any subject. It was not like her to say so little—nor to have that hint of sadness in her eyes.

  “How is Rose?” Vivian asked, thinking that the root of Camellia’s mood might lie in missing her older sisters. Both Rose and Mary had gotten married only two months after they arrived in England. “Have you had a letter from her recently? And Mary—when will she and Sir Royce be coming for the Season?”

  “We got a letter from Rose just the other day,” Lily replied. “She’s very happy. And so is Mary.” Her expression changed, her eyes turning brighter and a smile hovering at the corners of her mouth. “But she and Royce aren’t coming to London.”

  Vivian looked from Lily to Eve. “What? Why?”

  “It seems she is in an interesting condition,” Eve said, the same sort of smile growing on her face.

  “Really? Are you serious? Do you mean—”

  “She’s going to have a baby,” Camellia put in with her usual bluntness. “Why is everyone so reluctant to say it?”

  Vivian chuckled. “Because we are all very silly, no doubt. But what wonderful news!”

  “We stopped by Iverley on our way here to see her and Royce,” Camellia went on, smiling now. “They are absolutely up in the boughs over the news.”

  “I am sure they must be.”

  “But she isn’t feeling up to traveling,” Eve put in. “Mary was sorry not to be here to help Camellia and Lily.”

  “Yes, but she won’t mind missing the Season,” Camellia added. “I offered to stay. I thought she could use some help, perhaps.” She sighed. “But she wouldn’t let me.”

  “She would not want you to miss your first Season.”

  “It will all still be here next year,” Camellia pointed out.

  “Ah, but it’s different every time,” Vivian told her.

  They fell once again to talking of the Season and parties and their shopping expedition tomorrow, but after a while the butler announced the arrival of Lady Carr. This news sent Lily into an unaccustomed silence, and she straightened her dress and patted anxiously at her hair.

  “I am sure that you and Lady Carr must have much to discuss,” Vivian said, standing. “And I should be on my way.”

  Next to her, Camellia popped to her feet. “I’ll walk you out.”

  Lady Carr, a small woman with a die-away air, came into the room, and Vivian had to linger for a few moments to greet her and express her felicitations on the news of the upcoming marriage. But she made her escape as quickly as she could, with Camellia right on her heels.

  “I see you are well acquainted with Lady Carr,” Vivian murmured to the American as they walked toward the front door.

  “Well enough,” Camellia replied drily. “It’s best to leave before she gets to her illnesses.”

  Vivian glanced back toward the room they had left, then impulsively took Camellia’s hand and pulled her down the hall on the other side of the staircase. “Come, I want to talk with you.”

  “All right.” Camellia glanced at her, surprised, but went along readily.

  They moved quietly along the corridor, glancing into the empty rooms as they passed. The last was a cozy sitting room looking out over the small garden in the rear of the house. It was a pleasant place, open to the light and furnished in comfortable sofas and chairs. Vivian sat on a sofa, tugging Camellia down beside her.

  “How are you?” Vivian asked, her gaze serious.

  “Me?” Camellia eyed her somewhat warily. “I’m fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” Camellia looked down, picking at an invisible piece of lint on her skirt. “I’
m always healthy as an ox. Everyone knows that.”

  “I wasn’t really speaking of your health. I mean the way you feel in here.” Vivian tapped her own chest. “You seemed a bit unhappy this afternoon.”

  Camellia smiled in a determined way. “I’m very happy for Lily. She is ecstatic about marrying Neville. He isn’t the sort of man I would choose, but he seems right for Lily.” She shrugged.

  “That’s all very well for Lily. But what about you? Are you happy?”

  Camellia glanced at her. “I’d rather be back at Willowmere. I—the idea of a Season doesn’t appeal to me. All those parties and talking to people I don’t know. Trying to remember all the things I’m supposed to do and not do. I’m sure to make a mull of it one way or another. I don’t really care whether the people here like me, but I’m afraid I’ll do or say something that will make it harder for Lily. And it has been very kind of Cousin Oliver to do so much for us. I’m afraid I’ll be a disappointment to him.”

  “Camellia . . .” Vivian reached out, laying her hand on the girl’s arm. “It’s not like you to be lacking in confidence.”

  Camellia flashed her a grin. “You mean I tend to be full of myself?”

  “No, not conceited. But you are not one to doubt yourself, either.”

  The girl sighed. “I don’t doubt myself with things I’m used to. I know I can shoot well and ride well—Fitz will tell you that. It takes a lot to scare me. It’s just that I don’t know what to do here, and I don’t know why the things I say and do are wrong. I don’t want to hurt Lily in any way.”

  “I think Lily will be just fine. She is already engaged, so she has two families standing behind her. And she, I think, will enjoy this life. You mustn’t worry unduly. You may make some stumbles along the way, but Eve and I will be there. We will help you out of your missteps.”

  “I know. I suppose I’m being foolish. But I miss Willowmere. I miss my horse, and I wish I could ride. I don’t want to seem ungrateful, for I know that you are doing a lot for Lily and me, but I don’t enjoy shopping the way Lily does. It’s nice, at least for a little while, to look at the fashions and materials, but . . .” Camellia shrugged. “It doesn’t seem enough to keep one occupied.”