by Sandra Heath
A nerve flickered at his temple, the only sign of his own carefully controlled anger. “You seem to imagine, madam, that it is always in the power of the gentleman to guide the situation. Let me tell you that it is not, especially with a young lady as impetuous as your sister. She asked me—no, begged me—to dance again with her, and really, although I knew it was inadvisable, she was not prepared to be fobbed off with any lame excuse. I did not arrange to meet her in Hyde Park; she knew I was going to be there, having overheard me mention it, and she made certain that she came across me. We rode together for a while—”
“In a most intimate manner.”
“Dear God, woman, I find you exasperating at times,” he cried, “for I am attempting to explain what happened and you are interrupting. I rode with your sister for a while, and then she told me that she feared the girth of her saddle was a little loose and she was in danger of falling. What would you have me do, Alabeth? Ignore her and then leave her to fall? Instead, I decided it would be wiser to see if indeed the girth was loose, and that is what I did, although I confess that I did not suspect for one moment that she was going to reveal her ankles both to me and to the rest of the world. I expected her to dismount—she did not. I say again that I have been a little remiss, for I knew that she was forming some sort of attachment for me and I did not do enough to discourage her, but then neither did I encourage her.”
“You should have behaved more like a gentleman and less like a seducer of innocence,” she retorted.
His eyes flashed. “A seducer of innocence? By all that’s holy, you begin to go too far—”
“I will go as far as is necessary to keep you away from my sister.”
“Will you, by God? I wonder how far that is?”
“I trust that it will not be necessary to find out.”
His eyes were half-closed, resting almost speculatively on her pale, angry face. “Are you always this challenging, Alabeth?”
She ignored him. “Will you refrain from any contact with my sister?”
“Yes.”
She stared at him. “You will?”
“Quite willingly. You see, although she is delightfully pretty and engaging, she is too young and undisciplined for me. I prefer my women to be a little more discreet and to behave with more maturity.”
“I do not care how you prefer your women, sir, merely that your preference does not include Jillian.” Satisfied that she had achieved her aim, she turned to leave him.
He took two strides which brought him to her before she realized what was happening, and she could only gasp as his arm went around her waist and she was turned to face him, his fingers cupping her chin and his lips only inches from her. “Oh, my preference certainly does not include your sister,” he murmured, smiling a little, “but you, my dearest Alabeth, you are very much to my taste.”
He bent to kiss her, his lips moving slowly over hers as he drew her even closer. She was too startled to move as his skillful lips teased her, rendering her incapable of thinking clearly and robbing her of any will to begin resisting. His kiss stirred forgotten senses, caused her blood to flow more warmly through her veins, and made every nerve seem alive only to him. For the headiest and most unbelievable of moments, she was on the brink of responding, wanting to cling to him, but then sanity returned and furiously she began to thrust away from him.
He gave a short laugh, releasing her and smiling scornfully into her angry eyes. “Perhaps that will teach you, madam, not to come here wagging your finger at me and accusing me of evil intentions toward your sister. I’m tired of you, Lady Alabeth Manvers, tired of your constant dislike and tired of being held to blame for everything that has gone wrong in your life. I am no more guilty of attempting to seduce your sister than I was of luring Robert from the paths of righteousness. I assure you, madam, that he fell by the wayside all by himself. This is positively your last chance, Alabeth, for I swear that if you provoke me once more, then I shall tell you some home truths which are long overdue and which only honor has prevented me from saying before.”
Mortified and humiliated, she stared at him for a moment, her pride bruised and her composure wrecked. Then, catching her skirts, she ran from the room, but as she descended the staircase, it was as if he held her still, kissed her still….
She didn’t look back as the landau conveyed her away, but her cheeks were damp with tears. “I shall tell you some home truths which are long overdue and which only honor has prevented me from saying before.” She stared out at the passing Mayfair houses, and they seemed to melt away, and suddenly it was a warm August afternoon at Charterleigh again and Robert was presenting her to Piers for the first time. The glance of his gray eyes was so disturbing, for it was as if he could see right into her soul, and the touch of his hand was like a sudden awakening, a shock which breathed more excitement into her life than she had ever known before. But Robert had died, and she believed Piers to have been responsible—how, then, could it be anything but wicked to be so drawn to him? She closed her eyes, her head bowed.
Chapter 13
The landau entered Berkeley Square and to her horror she saw a rather travel-stained chaise drawing up outside the house; she recognized it immediately as belonging to the Wallborough steward, Mr. Bateman. Hastily she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, trying to compose herself and trusting that the marks of her weeping were not too evident. Oh, how she hated this day, already so long and wearisome, and now quite obviously not finished with yet. The landau came alongside the curb and halted, and taking a deep breath, her head held high, she alighted and entered the house.
The steward had been shown into the drawing room, and he rose immediately to his feet as she came in. “Good afternoon, Lady Alabeth.”
“Good afternoon, Mr. Bateman.”
“I trust that you received my brief communication.”
“I did indeed, sir,” she replied, sitting down and gesturing that he should do the same.
He settled himself slowly in a well-remembered way which took her back to her childhood, when it had been a fine adventure to visit him and take Shrewsbury cakes and a glass of sherry—something of which her father would not have approved, had he known. The steward still appeared to wear the same gray-powdered wig and even the same ribbon, and he looked as comfortable and comforting as ever as he smiled at her, his glance lingering very briefly on her tear-marked eyes. “And how are you, Lady Alabeth?”
“I’m very well and I trust that I find you the same.”
He nodded. “Perhaps I find it a little more difficult to rise from my bed these days, but apart from that, I go along in the same, time-honored way. But enough of these pleasantries, for I have no doubt that you wish to learn what I can tell you about Lady Jillian.”
“There is something, then.”
“Oh, yes, I fear that there is. You must understand, my lady, that in speaking to you I am breaking a confidence, for the Earl wished above all else to hush the whole matter up.”
Her heart was sinking still further. “Whatever you tell me will not go further, sir.”
“I know that. Well, it happened last year, when Lady Jillian accompanied the Earl to an autumn ball at Chatsworth. She met Sir Piers Castleton, who is, I fully realize, the gentleman to whom you were referring in your letter. I fear that Lady Jillian formed an attachment for him, an attachment which was in some measure returned, for she was being indiscreet enough to exchange letters of a certain intimacy with him. I hasten to add that there was nothing in the affair to suggest that she had—er—succumbed completely.” He looked a little embarrassed, clearing his throat and shifting his position just a little. “Indeed, nothing would have been known of it all had not the Earl happened upon one of the letters she had written, and on reading it realized that she was in the habit of going out to keep secret assignations with Sir Piers in Wallborough Woods.”
“Oh, no!” Alabeth could see Piers’ angry face again as he denied pursuing Jillian. Liar! Despicable liar!
&
nbsp; “How they managed to carry on such a liaison without anyone realizing defies comprehension,” went on the agent, “but they did, and it would probably have continued, had not the incriminating letter been found.”
Piers’ voice rang in Alabeth’s ears. “Until that first time I met you and your sister in Hyde Park, when I was with Charles Allister, I had only met Lady Jillian once before—at Chatsworth, when I danced once with her. I have since met her at Octavia Seaham’s ball and again today, when I happened to encounter her in Hyde Park when she was out riding.” Oh, how infamous he was, how shamelessly he had lied, swearing his innocence when all the time he was so very guilty.
Mr. Bateman was silent for a moment. “The Earl was naturally very anxious, for Sir Piers was not really very suitable, having been involved in that duel in which the Russian died, and so when he heard that Sir Piers was going to Europe this summer, he decided that Lady Jillian must be brought out during her lover’s absence, the hope being that she might make a match and thus be prevented from perhaps ruining her reputation. Then came the Earl’s appointment to the post in Madras, a post which he knew he must accept but which would also interfere with the supervision of Lady Jillian’s Season. At first it was intended that Lady Silchester should have charge of everything, but then her health broke down.”
“Hence his visit to me.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“I should have been told all this. It was wrong of my father to keep it from me.”
“I agree, my lady, and indeed I advised him to tell you, but he felt that it would be better to let it all die down. With Sir Piers being out of the country—”
“He is not out of the country; he is very much here in Town and indeed I spoke with him not half an hour ago.”
The steward stared at her. “Oh, dear!”
“Quite. I find it quite unforgivable of my father to expect me to take on such a responsibility and yet to conceal important information which has a great bearing on the whole thing.”
“He had two reasons for not wishing to tell you, my lady, and to him they were excellent reasons. To begin with, he knew that you and Lady Jillian had already fallen out because of the regrettable affair with Captain Francis earlier last year, and he had no wish to further antagonize the differences because of this new development, especially as the gentleman concerned was Sir Piers Castleton. And second, he didn’t wish to tell you of his anxieties, for he feared that you might feel it reflected on you and all that happened in the past when you met Lord Manvers. He spent a long evening with me before finally deciding what to do, my lady, and believe me, he honestly felt that this course was the best one—for both you and Lady Jillian.”
Slowly she got to her feet, crossing to the window and looking out over the square. Well, at last she knew the truth, after having been lied to on all sides. She stared at the gently moving plane trees. “Nothing has gone on. And I’m damned if I’m going to stand here and let you accuse me of all manner of things of which I am innocent.”
The steward got to his feet. “I have told you all I know, Lady Alabeth, and I beg you to remember that I have broken my word to the Earl.”
She managed a smile. “I promised you that I would be discreet, that I would do nothing to jeopardize your position, and I stand by that promise. I am only too grateful that you trusted me enough to tell me, and you may rest assured that what has passed between us tonight will go no further. I just had to know the truth, for it was impossible to know if I was doing the right thing all the time when I was constantly aware that there were matters I had not been told.”
“I quite understand that, my lady. I am afraid that Lady Jillian is—well, rather too romantically inclined. She seeks true love and mistakenly believes she has found it in every handsome gentleman who pays court to her.”
Alabeth gave a small laugh. “I wish, Mr. Bateman, that she would indeed find that true love, for then we would all have some peace.”
He smiled fondly at her. “It will all come out right in the end.”
“You always were an incurable optimist, sir.”
“A steward must be, if he is to survive, my lady.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right.”
“Well, I must go now.”
“You will not take some refreshment? And surely you intend to stay overnight?”.
“I have taken a room at a hostelry named the White Hart, my lady.”
She smiled then. “Which no doubt has the most iniquitous cockpit in London.”
“It does indeed, my lady.”
“And you’ve brought some of those odious birds with you from Wallborough?”
“I’ve a mind to show these Londoners how a good Derbyshire bird can lick them.”
“I wish you well, but warn you that the gentlemen of the White Hart know a thing or two.”
He rubbed the side of his nose with his finger and winked. “So do I, my lady, so do I.”
When he had gone, she sat down again, thinking things over—and in particular thinking about how monstrously Piers bad behaved throughout. How could he have faced her so blatantly, denying everything and even having the gall to claim that she had been making baseless accusations! Baseless? Why, each one was now proved beyond a doubt to be well founded, each one was now proved beyond a doubt to be well founded, each one more than justified, and yet he had heaped scorned upon her, humiliated her…. And then there was Jillian herself, denied so casually by her noble lover…. What was to become of her?
At that moment the drawing room door was opened very slowly and Jillian’s tearstained face peeped apprehensively in.
Alabeth straightened. “Hello, Jillian.”
Jillian came in and closed the door. She was very pale and nervous, twisting her handkerchief over and over again and looking thoroughly wretched. “H-have you seen him?”
“I have.”
The large blue eyes filled with fresh tears. “Oh.”
“Jillian….”
“You know all about the letter, don’t you? That’s why you went to see Piers today, because you already knew and feared things were still going on.”
Alabeth was relieved that Jillian had confessed this much, and she saw no point at all in revealing that the letter’s existence had been discovered after the visit to Piers. “I did not mention the letter to him, Jillian, and he denied absolutely everything anyway.”
Jillian stared at her, her eyes suddenly and surprisingly much brighter. “You didn’t mention the letter?”
“No.”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” Jillian sat down and it seemed to Alabeth that she did not know whether to laugh or cry. The tears in her eyes were certainly different now. “Alabeth, you’ll never know how relieved I am.”
Alabeth was puzzled, for what difference did mentioning the letter make to it all? Letter or no letter, Piers had flatly denied any involvement with Jillian, he had showed a lamentable lack of consideration or gallantry, and yet Jillian professed herself to be glad. It did not make sense, for surely bitter tears were more to be expected under the circumstances….
Jillian seemed, in fact, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She even managed a smile. “I’m not a-a fallen woman, you know.”
“Jillian!”
“Well, you know what I mean. I’m still as perfect as any gentleman would expect of a prospective bride.” She bit her lip then. “I don’t want you to think I—”
“I don’t think anything like that, you know that I don’t,” interrupted Alabeth gently.
“I’m so sorry for being so very bad to you. Even as I did it, I knew I was in the wrong, and I promise right here and now that I shall be a different person from now on.”
Now Alabeth was thoroughly perplexed, for Jillian’s reaction simply did not add up to the facts. “Jillian, are you sure you’re feeling quite well?”
“I’m feeling very well indeed, truly I am, and I just want to forget how odious I’ve been. I’ve learned my lesson now, truly I hav
e, and you won’t have any more trouble from me. I’ll even write to accept the invitation to dine at Lady Dexter’s. There, is that not proof of my good intentions?”
Alabeth could not think of anything to say, for this complete reversal was quite bewildering.
Jillian smiled again, reaching over to take her hand. “I don’t know why I’ve been so horrible recently, I didn’t really mean any of it. In my heart I knew you only acted out of love for me when you went to Father about that dreadful Captain Francis, but I simply couldn’t bring myself to admit it. I think that’s a great deal of my trouble. I can never bring myself to admit it when I’m in the wrong. Anyway, I know that I behaved badly then, and I’ve been behaving badly ever since. It won’t happen again.”
“And what about your feelings for Piers?”
“I don’t think I really ever had any.” Jillian smiled, a little shamefaced. “He was just there, he came along so soon after Captain Francis— He is in the past as far as I’m concerned, and you really must believe that, for it is the truth.”
Alabeth knew that indeed it was, that Piers had ceased to exist for Jillian, who was indeed contrite and meant to turn over a new leaf. But why this sudden change? Just because the letter had not been mentioned? No matter how Alabeth approached the problem, Jillian’s reaction simply did not add up. But then, was it really important what reason lay behind it? All that mattered was that the awkwardness and unpleasantness was over and things looked set to be agreeable again between the Earl of Wallborough’s daughters.
Jillian went to take the “accepted” invitations down from the mantelpiece, sifting through them with more interest than she had ever shown hitherto.