by Kruger, Mary
“Bad ton, child, to go charging up to her in such a way. You don’t want to give the gossips such a tit-bit.”
Evadne sent him a look withering with scorn. “I wouldn’t. But will you escort me to them when the dance is over, sir?”
Roger made a little face. “I cannot, child. Stanton does not like me much.”
“Why?” She studied his face. “Does it have something to do with your scar?”
“I fear so. We quarreled, some years back.” He let the silence lengthen, while Evadne’s mouth shaped itself into an O. Good. Let her think what she would. “We have not been friends since.”
“But that’s not fair! If he did that to you—”
“Peace, child. It’s past. But you must see I cannot go over there. May I bring you back to your mother? The waltz is nearly over.”
“Oh, very well,” Evadne said, pouting, and as he led her across the room Roger glanced at her. What did Stanton see in her? He himself would be bored silly before the honeymoon was over, no matter how wealthy she was. He was rather glad to leave her with her mother, a veritable dragon of a woman, and walked away, well-satisfied with this evening’s work. A wedge had been driven between Stanton and his fiancée.
With every appearance of docility, Evadne allowed herself to be escorted to her mother, and with every appearance of pleasure she greeted the young man who came to lead her out for the next dance. Underneath, however, she was calculating her next move, and she kept a sharp eye on Mrs. Jameson. No matter what it took, Evadne intended to talk with her.
Evadne had thought long and hard about her marriage since that romantic proposal in the rose garden, figuring out its disadvantages as well as its advantages. She was not at all surprised to learn that Stanton did have a mistress. What did surprise her was her own reaction, for she wasn’t the least bit jealous. One couldn’t be jealous of someone so old, she thought, with the sublime arrogance of youth. Still, she would have to do something.
Her chance came some time later, when during a cotillion she noticed that Mrs. Jameson was, for the moment, alone. A winsome smile and a glance through her eyelashes were all it took to persuade Lord Ware, who had quite gratifyingly begged her for another dance, to procure something for her to drink. Left alone at last, she purposefully made her way over to the window where Mrs. Jameson stood. What did Stanton see in her? Why, she was so tall and thin she was almost skinny, and her gown of burgundy silk didn’t have even one ruffle. Her hair was only brown, though shiny, Evadne conceded reluctantly. And she was old, Evadne thought pityingly. Really, no competition at all.
“My, it’s warm in here, isn’t it?” she said when she reached the window, snapping open her fan.
Thea glanced down with surprise and instantly stiffened. It was one thing meeting Evadne with Jeremy; quite another to converse with her in private. Irrational jealousy stabbed her. Did the girl have to be so pretty, with such petal soft skin and so sweet a smile? It was unfair. Next to her Thea felt old, plain, and much too tall.
Quickly she glanced about the room to see if they had been noticed, but the window embrasure afforded them a measure of privacy. “Quite warm,” she admitted. “Of course, when you have been dancing, it can be uncomfortable.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve hardly sat down all evening!”
Thea’s smile was rueful. Had she ever been so young that such a boast would have thrilled her, too? “You are enjoying your stay in London, Miss Powell?”
“Oh, yes.” She was old, Evadne reminded herself, but, somehow, she felt more uncertain than she had just a moment ago. She’d have expected Mrs. Jameson to be cross, at the least, and instead she was smiling at Evadne with, if not pleasure, at least politeness. For the first time since accepting Stanton’s proposal, Evadne began to wonder just what she had done. “Stanton is very kind to me,” she said, aggressively.
“Of course he is. Jeremy is a very nice man. You’ve done well, capturing him.”
Perhaps it was Mrs. Jameson’s self-possession that rattled her; perhaps the hint of condescension in her smile. “You know him well?”
“We are friends,” Thea said, lightly, shoving aside her jealousy. Poor child, she must have heard the gossip, and had decided to confront her. Hurt though she still was over Jeremy’s engagement, Thea had no intention of ruining things for his bride. “Miss Powell, let me assure you—”
“Oh, I realize you are friends,” Evadne chattered. “And I don’t mind. I know men must have their chere amies.”
“Miss Powell, I am not—”
“But I don’t mind, really I don’t. At first I was concerned, you know, but now that I see you, I’m not. In fact, I don’t mind at all if you continue as his mistress.”
Chapter Five
For a moment Thea was so stunned she could hardly speak. “But I’m not—” she began.
“I think he’s wonderfully handsome, even if he is so dark,” Evadne chattered, “and so charming. I can understand why you want him. Mama told me it’s the way of the world.”
“Not my world,” Thea said.
Evadne ignored her. “He’s marrying me for my money, you know.”
Thea impulsively reached out her hand. “Oh, my dear.”
“But that’s all right, because I’m marrying him for his title. Mama is so pleased,” she added, naively. “So, you see, nothing has to change.”
Thea stared at her as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes. “Miss Powell, I think I must tell you—”
“Oh, there you are, Miss Powell,” said Lord Ware, coming up behind her. His eyes grew wide as he noticed Thea. “Your lemonade.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Evadne gave him a ravishing smile that made him blink. “It was so nice talking with you, Mrs. Jameson. Perhaps we can talk again someday.”
Thea had recovered some of her poise. To deny Evadne’s mistaken idea before Ware would only make matters worse. “Perhaps,” she said, and watched them walk away.
There, Evadne thought, walking away on Lord Ware’s arm. She’d handled that confrontation in quite a grown-up way, she thought, and she’d been so nervous about it beforehand. Mama was right. The world of the ton was strange. Better to reach an understanding with Stanton’s mistress now, before the wedding, so that the woman wouldn’t try to compete with her. Not that she could. Mrs. Jameson seemed nice enough, but she was so old! Evadne had no doubt she could bring Stanton to heel anytime she wished. Why, just look how Lord Ware, heir to a dukedom, doted upon her. That thought made her look up quickly at the young man. Stanton wasn’t the only available man. This new world might suit her fine, too.
Lord Ware cleared his throat. He was tall and just a bit gangly, with large hands that he didn’t seem to know how to control, but his eyes were kind. “I say. Miss Powell.”
Evadne turned the full force of her smile upon him again, and he blinked. “Yes, sir?”
“Ahem. Feel I should warn you. Mrs. Jameson. Nice lady and all that, but her name’s been linked with Stanton’s.”
“Has it?” Evadne batted her eyelashes, pleased with herself at her air of nonchalance and maturity, and not realizing that she looked, in her white dress, very young and just a little insecure. “But she’s accepted here.”
“Ahem. Of course. Ahem. Miss Powell?”
“Yes?” she said encouragingly, when he didn’t go on.
“We’re to have a house party at Rochester Castle. M’father and stepmother, you know,” he said in a rush. “Be honored if you would come. Stanton, too, of course.”
“Why, thir, I’d like that ever tho much.” She smiled up at him. “How sweet of you to think of me.”
“Ahem. Well.” Lord Ware looked down at his feet. “I’ll speak to my stepmother about it.”
“Thank you, thir.” Evadne beamed as he led her over to her mother. A house party with a duke and duchess! This was beyond even her wildest dreams. She’d been accepted, and now the world was hers.
Thea stood in the window embrasure, still with shock. “Wasn’t
that Miss Powell?” someone said next to her, and she looked up to see Lady Hartford, one of the worst gossips in the ton.
Inwardly, Thea groaned, though she managed a smile. “Yes. If you’ll excuse me—”
“A pretty thing, isn’t she? Very sweet, too.”
“Oh, yes,” Thea said, ironically, aware of Lady Hartford’s interested gaze. “Excuse me, ma’am, I see my brother over there with some friends—”
“She must be, if she approached you,” Lady Hartford said. “Either that, or terribly naive.”
Thea stopped, turning slowly to face her. “What do you mean?”
“Why, Mrs. Jameson, all the world knows about your friendship with Stanton.” She paused, smiling. “Your special friendship.”
Thea’s temper started to rise. “I am not, and I have never been, Stanton’s mistress.”
“Why, dear, of course not. Did I say so?” Lady Hartford’s eyes were bright with malice. “But no one would blame you if you were.”
Several retorts rose to Thea’s lips, but she bit them all back, habit and training preventing her from making a spectacle of herself. She didn’t know when she had ever been so angry in her life. “Excuse me, ma’am,” she said, her smile tight. “I see someone I must speak to.” With that she swept away, the swish of burgundy silk the only sign of her agitation. Lady Hartford thought she was Jeremy’s mistress! If she thought so, then so must everyone in the ton. Thea’s fingers clenched on her dance card, mangling it beyond redemption. She had lived a blameless life. Because she had chanced to fall prey to a man’s easy charm, because she had befriended him, her reputation was in tatters. She didn’t know whether to cry, or rage.
No wonder Miss Powell had spoken to her as she had, though. Thea’s rage abruptly dissolved in a wave of pity. Poor girl, trying to act sophisticated, and all the time looking young, so young. Thea well recalled her own bitter disillusionment when she had learned that her husband had been unfaithful. Would she herself had had the courage to speak to Hugh’s paramour in such a way? Not likely. She had, in spite of everything, been fond of Hugh at first and had wanted her marriage to succeed. What, she wondered, did Miss Powell want?
By the time Thea took her leave that evening, her head was aching in earnest. Several more people had quizzed her about Evadne, and with each encounter her grip on her temper grew weaker. She was grateful to reach the sanctuary of her carriage, away from prying eyes and gabbling tongues. Wise to the ways of society, Thea knew this sensation would not soon die down. At least, however, she had a respite, however temporary.
The carriage stopped in front of her house, and wearily Thea went in, alone, Francis having gone on to some other entertainment. And that was another worry. At the moment, the world seemed very heavy on her shoulders.
To her surprise, the lamps in the drawing room were lighted. She paused in the doorway, watching Lydia, across the room, frowning over her latest piece of needlework. “What are you still doing up, aunt?” she asked.
“Hm?” Lydia looked up, her face vague, and then her eyes focused. “Thea, dear. You are home. Is it that late?”
Thea smiled as she walked into the room and dropped into a chair, pressing her fingers for a moment to her aching temples. “Have you been here stitching all night?”
“I fear so.” Lydia looked like nothing so much as a guilty child, caught at some forbidden activity. The thought made Thea smile. “Did you have a nice evening, dear?”
“Yes. I’ll tell you about it in the morning, aunt.”
“And was Stanton there with his fiancée?”
Thea paused in the act of rising. “How did you know that?” she asked, sitting down again. For all her vagueness, Lydia could sometimes be amazingly well-informed.
“I heard it somewhere. What is she like, Thea dear?”
“Very pretty, very sweet, and very young.”
“Oh, dear. Too young for him, I’ll wager.”
“No, on that I have my doubts. She’s no fool, Aunt.” Thea did rise, then, pacing restlessly to the fireplace.
“You’ve the headache, I collect,” Lydia said, looking up at her with eyes unexpectedly sharp and bright. “I’ll have one of my possets sent to you.”
“Thank you, aunt. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go to bed.”
“What did she say to upset you, Thea dear?”
Thea stopped near the doorway, and then turned, going again to the chair. “Not just her. Everyone. Did you know people have been assuming that I’m Jeremy’s mistress.”
Lydia clucked her teeth. “Oh, dear.”
“You don’t sound shocked.”
“Well, Thea dear, I’ve always thought you deserved some happiness, after Hugh.”
Thea let out a laugh, surprised and just a little bitter. “Not this way. Not when I’ve tried so hard to live a blameless life. And then for that girl to say—”
“What?” Lydia prompted, when Thea didn’t go on.
“Oh, Aunt.” Thea sank her head into her hands. “She made me the most incredible proposition,” she said, and told Lydia of her conversation with Evadne.
“She didn’t say that,” Lydia said, shocked at last.
“Oh, yes, Aunt, she did. And I still cannot believe it.” Thea paced back and forth. “Young girls aren’t supposed to know of such things. I didn’t, at her age.”
“Yes, Thea dear, but I’ve often thought, you know, that girls should be told.”
“Yes, I agree with you. But how could she say such a thing? I’d never want to share my husband with anyone.”
“She doesn’t love him, I fear. And what is worse, she doesn’t care about him.”
Thea sank into a chair. “No, she doesn’t, does she? Poor Jeremy.” He had been unhappily married once, and now it would happen again. “He doesn’t deserve this.”
“No, he doesn’t. You must do something, Thea dear.”
“What?” Thea spread her hands out. “What can I do? I’m only his friend.”
“Yes, dear, but everyone believes otherwise.”
“Everyone is wrong,” she said in clipped tones, angry again at what was believed of her. She had never been tempted to have an affair, never, not when she was married, not since.
“Oh, yes, of course, dear, but you must see there is some truth in it. Haven’t you ever noticed how Stanton looks at you?”
“No. How does he look at me?”
“Not as he would look at a friend.”
“That’s silly.” Thea rose and began to pace again. “He is a rake. He looks at all women that way.”
“Oh, no.” Lydia shook her head. “Only you, dear. I noticed it most particularly. Perhaps he would like the rumors to be true?”
Unbidden to Thea’s mind came the memory of what had transpired in this very room, when he had suggested just such a thing to her. “Gammon!”
Lydia looked faintly reproving. “No, dear. You could stop him from making a dreadful mistake. You do agree it would be a mistake for him to marry Miss Powell?”
“Yes.”
“Then you must stop him.” Thea stared at her. “If he feels that way about you, you have more power than you think.”
“You mean—Aunt, you’re surely not suggesting I should take him away from her!”
“Why, yes, Thea dear. Someone has to.”
Thea went very still. That odd mixture of emotions she had felt when she had first seen Jeremy with his fiancée went through her again, powerful and shattering, leaving her shaken. Then, as before, anger set in. “Not I,” she snapped, and strode out of the room, angry at Lydia, at Jeremy, and, most of all, at herself, for caring. Jeremy was lost to her. It would be best for her simply to forget him. She doubted, though, as she blew out her candle and climbed into bed, that she ever would.
Miss Evadne Powell took London, and the ton, by storm, charming the young men with her smile and her huge eyes, the older ones with her fresh youthfulness. She wasn’t so well-liked among the women, but that seemed not to bother her. Thea wat
ched as, at each ball or soiree or assembly she attended, Evadne was surrounded by a court of admiring young men, and felt her frustration and anger deepen. Because she couldn’t avoid seeing Jeremy with his fiancée, just as Lydia had foretold. They moved in the same circles, and so were bound to see each other nearly every day. Evadne seemed not to notice the awkwardness of it, but Thea did.
At breakfast one morning Thea poked at her food and mulled over the situation. On the one hand, she didn’t want to believe that anyone so young and so innocent-seeming could have understood the enormity of the suggestion she had made to Thea. On the other, Thea watched her flirting with every available male while Jeremy was left to his own devices, and was indignant on his behalf. It didn’t matter that he didn’t appear to mind, that Evadne’s antics seemed even to amuse him. He was heading for sorrow and unhappiness.
Part of her wanted to do something about the matter. She considered, and discarded, various strategies to make Jeremy aware of the truth about Evadne. Part of her urged that a friend would not let another friend go blindly into a situation that could only bring him pain; another, more cowardly, selfish part, told her that he would not thank her for such news, and that she might lose even his friendship. That, she couldn’t bear. Odd, but she thought more about him now than she had before he had become engaged. She was more aware of him; she watched him closely, studying his moods and wondering if he were really as content as he appeared. As a friend would do, she reminded herself, hastily. Attracted though she was to him, she knew there could be no future in an affair between them. Jeremy was engaged, and she would not encourage him. It would do neither of them any good; in any contest between her and another woman during her marriage, she had always lost. She had no reason to believe matters had changed. She didn’t want to see Jeremy enter into a marriage that would only bring him pain. What she could do about it, though, was something she didn’t know.
Hanson murmured something as he laid the post beside her plate, and Thea started. What good was moping going to do her? She attacked the mail with sudden vigor, quite cross with herself. She had gone through hard times before and had survived them. Difficult though it was for her to admit, Jeremy’s problems weren’t hers. If he chose to marry a pretty little ninnyhammer, he deserved what he got. She would not repine, she told herself firmly, pulling a heavy card from a creamy, square envelope. She would, instead, go on with her life.