Edenbrooke

by Julianne Donaldson

  Love,

  Marianne

  I quickly folded the letter, biting my lip to keep myself from losing control of my emotions. If I started to cry now, I didn’t know how I would ever be able to stop.

  I opened the drawer of the writing desk to retrieve the wax and seal, but my fingers froze as I spied the two letters tucked in the back of the drawer—Philip’s love letter and his note. I pulled them out, carefully unfolded them, and read each one. My heart ached and then throbbed with anger and resentment. How dare he deceive me? How dare he pretend to be my friend when all along he wanted to be rid of me?

  I knew what I had to do. I tore the love letter in half, then half again, then half again. I could still see some words though: torment, adore, desperately. Each word stabbed me with the pain of betrayal. I ripped the words again and again, wishing I could obliterate every feeling in my heart as easily. I didn’t stop until there was nothing left but tiny, unreadable crumbs of paper. Then I did the same with his note, swept the pile of broken words into my hands, and threw them all into the fireplace.

  When Betsy came back a few minutes later, I handed her the letter addressed to my father.

  “Will you see that this gets mailed as soon as possible?”

  She nodded and tucked the letter into her pocket. “But what about the ball?”

  The ball. Philip would be at the ball, but so would Mr. Beaufort. Mr. Beaufort was interested in me. He might even want to marry me. I checked my heart again, and felt nothing from it. It was dull and empty—lifeless. That was exactly the way I wanted it.

  “Yes, I am going. But I want to look more beautiful tonight than I ever have before. Are you up to the challenge?”

  She clapped her hands. “Leave it to me. You will look ravishing, I am sure.”

  I smiled grimly.

  When I stood before the mirror after Betsy had finished with me, I studied myself with an objective eye. I wore the green silk gown, and I did not look like a very young girl anymore. Perhaps it was the hairstyle and the jewelry and the gown, but I thought it had just as much to do with the glint in my eye.

  Betsy stood back to look at me, critically, from head to toe. She finally nodded with approval.

  “You won’t even need to pinch your cheeks tonight,” she said. “They’re already rosy.”

  I thanked her and pulled on my long gloves as I left my room and walked down the hall. I paused before I reached the stairs. Hiding in the shadows, I breathed deeply and tried to prepare myself mentally for what was coming. My only hope for success tonight was pinned on my being able to remain immune to Philip’s charm. I had to keep my heart shut away and silent. If he disassembled my defenses it was possible I might lose the dignity I was working so hard for. And then I might do something unpardonable, like cry in his presence or tell him that I knew he didn’t want me here.

  Therefore, I built up my armor, chink by chink, against him. I repeated to myself all that I held against Philip. I thought of his many faults as I walked with careful dignity down the stairs. He lied, for one. He told me I was welcome here when I was not. He led me into a false sense of security by making me feel certain he was my friend, when all along he wanted to be rid of me.

  He was arrogant, for another, if he thought I would come all this way in the hope of ensnaring a man I had never met. What an assumption! Did he think every woman who glanced his way was pining for him? Would sacrifice her dignity for the chance of securing him as her husband? Well, he was much mistaken, for I would never sacrifice anything for him.

  The butler opened the doors to the drawing room, and I stepped inside. The rest of the family was already assembled, but I hardly noticed them. I only noticed Philip, as he quickly looked my way, and I saw something flash in his eyes that looked like admiration. But I must have been mistaken, for he did not admire me. He wanted to be rid of me. I remembered my task at hand and moved to the other side of the room where I could continue to list his faults to myself without having to be near him.

  He was too handsome. Much too handsome. Especially tonight, in his formal black, with his waistcoat and cravat snowy white and his hair gleaming in the candlelight and his eyes meeting mine across the room with a question in them. I turned away so I would not have to see his much-too-handsome face. It was a great fault of his, for it led feeling young ladies to want to forgive his other faults for the sake of his eyes and his smile.

  He was persistent. I added that to my list of his faults when he crossed the room to me even though I obviously wanted nothing to do with him.

  “What have I done to deserve that look?” he asked in a low voice so that nobody else could hear. It was a deceptive thing to do, for it made it seem like we were coconspirators instead of an unwilling host and an unwanted guest.

  “You have done nothing, sir.”

  “Sir?” He said it as if it was an insult. “Now I know it’s serious. Tell me at once so that I may apologize.”

  I laughed lightly, but I felt nothing but hardness inside. “You’re imagining things.”

  Philip frowned as the butler opened the door and announced that the carriage was ready. As I turned to the door, I saw Cecily watching me with a suspicious look. It didn’t bother me, though. She could have Sir Philip Wyndham. They would make a perfect pair, the two of them. She would flirt with Mr. Kellet while Philip went away to do things a rector wouldn’t approve of, and they could live a happy, deceitful, immoral life together.

  I made sure I did not sit next to Philip in the carriage, but the way it turned out was worse, for Philip sat directly across from me, with his knee brushing mine when the carriage swayed around a turn, and his gaze fixed on me so completely that I felt my face burning. To distract myself I continued my list.

  He was too perceptive. I did not like that about him at all. He always said I had an expressive face, but the fault was his for seeing too much. I did not want him to know anything of my heart tonight, so I kept my face averted, choosing to look out the window and paying no heed to the conversation of the others.

  I nearly had my list and my armor complete when we stopped in front of the Assembly Hall. Philip stepped out of the carriage first, then turned to me and offered me his hand, which I was forced to accept or else risk tripping and falling to the ground. His grip was strong and dependable and familiar. My defenses trembled at his touch.

  Too handsome, I repeated to myself. Too perceptive. Too charming. I had added that last one to the list during the carriage ride. Too familiar, too moving, too persistent. Of course, I could not forget the most important: too deceitful.

  I dropped his hand as soon as I touched the ground and felt both relieved and disappointed at the same time. I must work harder at schooling my heart, I told myself. I must not let it override the rational workings of my mind.

  I saw Mr. Beaufort as soon as I entered the ballroom. He began to make his way across the crowded room toward me. Philip stood at my side, and even though I intentionally did not look at him, his closeness was making me very nervous.

  I tried to find my smile and my poise as Mr. Beaufort drew near, but I could hardly breathe with Philip standing so close. Then I saw Mr. Kellet smirking at me from across the room, which made the evening even worse.

  “Will you dance with me tonight?” Philip asked in a quiet voice.

  My heart skipped at least three beats. I pulled up my gloves, feigning interest in them.

  “No, thank you,” I said, striving for nonchalance in my voice.

  Mr. Beaufort was only a few steps away when a group of women moved between us, blocking his path.

  “No thank you?” Philip asked, disbelief in his voice.

  My heart was pounding, my face flushed. I dared a quick glance up at Philip. He was searching my face as if for clues, his brow contracted, his mouth a tight line. “What has happened?”

  I shrugged and looked away from him. “Absolutely nothing.”

  Philip was clearly upset. The thought gave me a mean sort of pleasure. H
e should be upset. He was, after all, the cause of everything that was wrong about this evening. He was the deceiver, not I. I ignored the quiet voice inside of me that reminded me of the lies I had told tonight.

  Mr. Beaufort had maneuvered around the group of women and was now but a few paces away from me. Philip stood so close that I could feel his warmth even though we were not touching. I gripped my hands together. He was too close. His warmth, his intensity, and his familiarity were all working against my defenses. But before I could step away from him, he leaned down and spoke low in my ear, so low that nobody else could have heard.

  “You look beautiful tonight.”

  A shiver spread through me and I blushed furiously, for Philip’s quiet voice had made the words sound sincere. In the next instant, he straightened and walked away without looking back.

  I tore my gaze away from Philip’s broad shoulders to see Mr. Beaufort standing before me and bowing.

  “Miss Daventry. You have grown in beauty in just the few days since we met.”

  I tried to feel flattered, but his words fell on my ears with a hollow ring. Nevertheless, I smiled and murmured, “Thank you.”

  A dance was beginning. I gave Mr. Beaufort my hand and allowed him to lead me to the dance floor, where couples were lining up across from each other. I focused my gaze on him and tried to forget the warring emotions of the day. I tried to quiet my heart, which had been bounding at a furious pace ever since I had seen Philip tonight. Taking a deep breath, I told myself to focus on the task at hand. Tonight was an exercise in learning how to be an elegant lady. I would do everything I could to forget that Philip was even in the room. It would be easy to do, especially since I had already refused to dance with him.

  I smiled brightly at Mr. Beaufort, ready to try my hand at flirting, until seconds before the dance started. That was when I noticed Philip standing on Mr. Beaufort’s right hand. I looked at him with surprise, then to my left and saw that Cecily was his partner. Her smile had that tinge of suggestiveness that made me think of what she learned in London about kissing rakes. A surge of jealousy rose so swiftly within my breast that I lost my breath for a moment. I turned my gaze back to Mr. Beaufort, but I had to work very hard to remember that I didn’t care what Philip or Cecily did.

  The music began. It was a lively dance, which was fortunate, because it left little opportunity for speaking. I tried to smile at Mr. Beaufort and not look at Philip, but it took so much effort that by the end of the dance I was exhausted.

  I hardly had time to catch my breath before another gentleman stepped forward and asked me to dance. This time Cecily danced with Mr. Kellet. I saw Philip down the line dancing with Miss Grace, even though I was not looking for him. I thought I should practice my flirting, to keep my mind off of Philip, but I was hardly successful. My smile was forced and my attention kept wandering to Philip and the words I had heard him speak to William.

  After a few more dances, the musicians took a break. I stood by an open window and allowed my gaze to sweep the crowd. Without effort, my eyes caught on Philip. I was not trying to find him among the crowd. He just happened to be the sort of man who stood out among other gentlemen. And there he was, near an open window, talking to Mr. Beaufort.

  Both gentlemen were standing stiffly, and neither of them was smiling. It almost looked as if they might be arguing, but I couldn’t imagine what they would have to argue about since they hardly knew one another.

  It was difficult to not compare the two men as they stood together. Mr. Beaufort was certainly dashing, with his stylish golden hair and the flair of his dress. But seeing him next to Philip, his appeal faded greatly in my mind. For it was obvious, comparing them side by side, that Mr. Beaufort was like a set of paste jewels—flashy on the outside but really an imposter, with nothing of great value within.

  Philip, on the other hand, shone like a real gem—without even trying. His clothes were just as well-made as Mr. Beaufort’s, but he wore them with a natural, athletic grace, and he didn’t employ any extreme fashions to create an impression. He was purely elegant, naturally, without thought or planning, and upon looking at them, I found that I would infinitely prefer the real gem to the imposter.

  I felt sick with disappointment and disgusted with myself. There was no comparison to make. Philip did not want me; Mr. Beaufort did. That was the only thing that mattered. And besides that, I did not want Philip—that handsome, incorrigible, charming tease who stole hearts he had no intention of keeping.

  I was not aware of Mrs. Fairhurst’s presence until she spoke, and then I was startled to hear her so close. “Sir Philip is certainly a great catch, is he not?”

  She was looking in the same direction I had been, and I blushed, embarrassed to have been caught watching Philip, especially by her. I turned my back to the man in question and said, “Is he?”

  She laughed through her nose. “Oh, come, Miss Daventry. You cannot deceive me. I know you are perfectly aware of his . . . attractions.”

  I looked at her with barely concealed loathing. She smiled at me with her lips but not her eyes.

  “If I am,” I said, “how is that any concern of yours?”

  “Oh, it’s not my concern. I am simply doing you a favor, my dear, since you obviously did not heed my Grace’s warning to you when you arrived.” She opened her fan and waved it briskly. “He has half the ladies in London violently in love with him every year. Elegant, accomplished ladies of rank and fortune.” She lifted an eyebrow as her gaze swept over my figure. “Clearly you cannot comprehend how far you fall beneath his level.”

  Anger burned away my embarrassment. I knew she was right, but I would not give this atrocious woman the satisfaction of appearing cowed. “Half the ladies in London are in love with Sir Philip, you say?” I asked with an innocent look.

  She nodded, her smile now quite smug.

  “Hmm. He would be very disappointed to hear that, for he assured me it was closer to three-fourths.”

  Her smile froze.

  “I wonder which one of us is right,” I said. “Shall I ask him?”

  She snapped her fan closed, her eyes blazing with anger. “That will not be necessary.”

  Suddenly Philip was standing before us, and both Mrs. Fairhurst and I jumped a little. He ignored Mrs. Fairhurst entirely. Holding out his hand to me, he said, “I believe I have the next dance.”

  Chapter 20

  Philip most certainly did not have the next dance, but I was not about to admit that in front of Mrs. Fairhurst. I had no choice but to put my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor.

  This was most unexpected. As he led me to the line of couples, I frantically searched my memory for the list of his faults I had compiled earlier. But I couldn’t think clearly while standing across from him, waiting for the music to begin. I was nervous—very nervous. I had never danced with Philip before, and having him watch me with those familiar eyes was making my heart race. I took a deep breath and decided I would pretend he was any one of the ordinary men I had danced with that evening. In fact, I wouldn’t even look at his face. I would look at his cravat and say nothing.

  The music started. I stepped toward Philip as he stepped toward me. I kept my eyes fixed on that perfectly tied cravat. I could do this. I could pretend he was a stranger and never meet his eyes and never feel anything at all while dancing with him.

  But I had not taken into account one important fact: Philip did not dance like any ordinary man I knew. When he touched my waist, he did not rest his hand passively and lightly. Rather, he pulled me toward him, his hand pressing on the small of my back, so that in a step I was so close I could feel him breathe. A shock raced through me, and I looked up in surprise. I looked into his eyes, which I had sworn I would not do.

  Oh, my. Perhaps an experienced lady in London would know what to do with the smoldering look he gave me, but I did not. And I found, quite to my dismay, that when I looked into Philip’s eyes I could not remember a single fault on that list.
He said nothing, and I said nothing as we turned. When he released me, my legs felt weak and my hands shook. I turned in a daze to follow the other steps in the dance.

  Before I was prepared for it, it was time to meet in the middle again. I could not believe I had ever danced this way before without realizing how intimate it was. My hand clasping Philip’s, his other hand on my waist, pulling me close while we gazed into each other’s eyes—it was all too much. And still he said nothing to me. I began to think it would be better if he did say something, if only so I could say something flippant in return and dispel the emotion that was building between us.

  I saw, when he released me, that Lady Caroline stood just behind the line of dancers, watching us, and that Rachel, who was dancing with William several couples down, was also looking our way. My face burned and I wondered what they were thinking. Did I look like I was trying to ensnare Philip? And where was Cecily? What was she thinking?

  Just when I thought things couldn’t be worse, Philip spoke. He pulled me close and said in a low voice, “Half the ladies in London?”

  So he had overheard! “Yes, that seems to be the general consensus.”

  His eyes narrowed and he watched me as we moved apart and down the line of dancers. When we met again, he asked, “Is that what you’re holding against me?”

  “I’m not holding anything against you.” I spoke stiffly, then tried to smile so he would believe the lie.

  Philip shook his head. “You’re a terrible liar. You shouldn’t even try.”

  I glared at him, wracking my brain for the perfect reply. Nothing came to mind, however, which may have been because I could never think clearly when I was this close to him.

  “You know, your glare is not quite the punishment you think it is,” he said.