“We know. My husband saw him in St. Cloud’s carriage as they left Huntingdown,” Mrs. Tarwater said. “Miss Fleming, it has come to our attention that there has been some talk in town about your brother and Lady Perdita.”
Amanda blinked. “What on earth would anyone have to say about them?”
“That they have been alone together on more than one occasion,” Mrs. Hopewell said primly. “As have you and the earl.”
“But they were always here or at church!” Amanda protested. “Working on the plans for the new Sunday school! And when were the earl and I alone together?”
“The night you went missing—or supposedly went missing,” Mrs. Hopewell’s tone insinuated so much more. “The two of you came back together alone.”
She pronounced alone as if it was the newest deadly sin and Amanda nearly choked on the bile that rose in her throat. “My horse ran away,” she said, knowing already any explanation would be useless. “Stephen asked the earl to try to find me.”
Mrs. Baker sniffed her disapproval. “Odd that a brother wouldn’t assist in the search.”
Rage and fear drove Amanda’s heart into a gallop. “Stephen is nearly as blind at night as I am,” she choked out. “There’s no possible way he could have helped look for me.”
“So you say,” Mrs. Tarwater said. “Perhaps you and your brother concocted a plot to force the Hunts to marry the both of you. Perhaps that’s why you came here in the first place.”
“And it would be a shame,” Mrs. Hopewell added, “if his lordship’s pending engagement to Lucy Pembroke were to fall through because of your being alone with him. Not to mention what it might do to Lady Perdita’s expectations because she was alone with your brother, not only while the earl searched for you, but all the other times at the church. Imagine the scandal.”
“And I heard from Mr. Cardshaw himself when I went to his shop to buy a book for my daughter, that St. Cloud gave you a book he already purchased,” Mrs. Baker said, obviously relishing Amanda’s discomfort. “Mr. Cardshaw is such a gossip. I’m surprised word hasn’t gotten back to Pembroke and his wife. Giving a gift to a lady who is not a family member.”
“But the servants were here,” Amanda returned to her defense of Perdita and Stephen. “They—”
”Can be bribed to say and do anything,” Mrs. Baker said smugly. “Your brother is being paid quite handsomely by the earl, and could afford to silence your staff with a handful of silver if needed.”
Her unveiled accusation hit Amanda with the force of a blow across the face. “This is about me, isn’t it?” she whispered. “About me asking Mrs. Nichols to repair the altar linens, starting a Sunday school and asking Stephen to consider appointing Arthur Nichols verger instead of Mr. Hopewell.”
“You don’t really belong here, Miss Fleming,” Mrs. Hopewell said. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you arrived. All
Souls got along without you and your brother very well. He’s a young man. Finding another position shouldn’t be too hard. I believe I heard you say he had been offered a teaching position at his college at Oxford before accepting the living at All Souls. Perhaps he should go there.”
Amanda’s head reeled at the suggestion. “But Stephen loves it here at All Souls. If anyone leaves, it should be me.”
“Just like you had to do at your brother’s last two positions?” Mrs. Tarwater’s voice held a silky menace. “Because of the trouble you caused there? Ah, I see from your expression I’ve hit the mark. I’ve been doing a bit of correspondence, you see. St. Cloud couldn’t have the living at All Souls vacant at Christmas, so perhaps he just chose the first person available. It didn’t matter if the man had a sister who was a known troublemaker. Imagine the scandal that might cause if the members of All Souls learned about your behavior at the other churches. The viscount is such a stickler for propriety he might object to his only daughter marrying the man who chose such a rector. What would Lucy’s great-aunt Adelaide, the Dowager Duchess of Clairfield say about that?”
Dread filled Amanda’s heart. “I didn’t know her great-aunt was a duchess,” she whispered.
“No? Lady Perdita didn’t mention it? After spending all that time with St. Cloud?” Mrs. Tarwater affected a look of surprise. “How very interesting. And what might such a scandal do to Lady Perdita’s first Season?”
Amanda bowed her head. “You win, Mrs. Tarwater,” she choked. “At least allow Stephen to conduct the Christmas Eve and Day services. Leaving before then would be a scandal in itself. Please. We’ll be gone by New Year’s Day, I promise.”
“See that you are,” Mrs. Baker ordered.
“Then my husband can be appointed verger,” Mrs. Hopewell added, not bothering to hide her glee. “The very idea of appointing a tenant’s grandson is outrageous!”
“Now, now, Grace, that’s enough.” Mrs. Tarwater’s smile of victory held nothing but venom. “I knew Miss Fleming was a sensible young woman and would see reason. She would never want harm to come to Lady Perdita or St. Cloud, would you Miss Fleming?”
“Of course not,” Amanda said woodenly, fighting to keep such images out of her head.
“I’m glad you see it our way,” Mrs. Tarwater said. “Thank you, Miss Fleming. We’ll see ourselves out.”
They left, and Amanda stumbled back to the loveseat and sat, just before her knees gave way. Nothing at Good Shepherd or St. Barnabas could have prepared her for this kind of treachery. How would she explain it to Stephen?
But they would have to leave. She would never, never allow Perdita’s future happiness to be jeopardized by three power hungry harpies. Or Stephen’s, for that matter.
Or Cameron Hunt’s. She bowed her head as sorrow gathered in her heart. How could she have fallen so completely in love with him? Better to leave before being forced to watch him marry Lucy Guest. Perhaps there was wisdom in the triumvirate’s treachery after all.
“Excuse me, Miss Fleming, but you seem to be very popular this morning.” Alice’s voice yanked Amanda’s attention away from despair and she turned toward the door. “Yes?”
The housemaid came forward, carrying a small envelope. “This just came from Heart’s Ease, Miss. And they’ve sent a carriage for you.”
“Oh, Lord.” Amanda offered up a hasty prayer as she tore open the envelope. Please let nothing have happened to Stephen and Cameron.
Inside there was only the briefest of messages from Perdita, which did nothing to ease Amanda’s fears. I need you. Please come. P.
Still praying, Amanda grabbed her coat from the rack in the corner, shoved her arms into it as she dashed for the front door and out to the Hunt’s waiting carriage.
Chapter Fifteen
“Perdita, what happened?” Amanda asked, handing her coat to a worried-looking Oakley. He gave her a brief nod and closed the drawing room door as Amanda went to join her friend who sat on the sofa before the fire. The younger girl promptly burst into tears, sobbing into her hands.
Terror seized Amanda’s heart, but she gently pulled Perdita’s hands from her face and said, “Perdita, talk to me. What has happened? Have your other brothers and their wives not arrived yet?”
“No,” Perdita sobbed. “Richard and Allister are in London, finishing their Christmas shopping, and won’t be back until tomorrow. And they wouldn’t know that Cam and Stephen had to go to Hope Springs and they won’t be back until tomorrow! And the Winter Ball is tomorrow night! Oh, Amanda, what am I going to do?”
“First you’re going to tell me what has happened,” Amanda coaxed. She put an arm around her friend’s waist. “Surely between us we can make it right.”
Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, Perdita dried her eyes and then blew her nose with a less than ladylike gusto. “That—” she pointed at a large open box on the table—”is what’s happened.”
What else could possibly go wrong? Holding back her sigh of resignation, Amanda went to the table to pull aside the folds of tissue paper and peer inside in box. “My word!
” she gasped. “What on earth is it?”
“It’s supposed to be my gown for the Winter Ball.” Perdita’s voice trembled.
“But it’s—it’s—”Amanda picked up the gown with her fingertips—”it’s orange. Bright orange.”
“I know!” Perdita wailed. “I can’t wear that to the ball! I look terrible in orange! They’ve sent the wrong gown!”
“Oh, dear.” Amanda let the gown fall back into the box and rejoined her friend. “I don’t suppose we could send it back?”
“It came from London, remember?” Perdita gulped. “There’s not enough time to send it back and even if we did, what if they don’t have my gown? They’ve probably sent it to someone else, and it’s so beautiful whoever has it won’t want to give it back. Oh, Amanda. What am I going to do?”
She began to cry again, and for a moment, Amanda longed to join her. Her earlier meeting with the triumvirate left her bruised, heart and soul. The thought of being forced to leave Huntingdown because of their selfish concerns for keeping their power nearly brought her to tears. In Huntingdown, Amanda finally found a way to fit in as the rector’s sister—or so she thought. And now that would to be taken away from her.
But today was not about Amanda. She would not give those old tabbies even the slightest chance to hurt Perdita. An idea began to form and she smiled.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do.” Amanda took Perdita’s hands and rose, bringing the girl to her feet. “”We’re going to be sure that you are the belle of the ball. Let’s go.”
****
“Whatever in the world is taking her so long?” Cam stared up the long staircase as he paced the foyer.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cam,” Gwenyth scolded. “This is almost as important as making one’s bow. Perdita will be down in a moment.”
“I don’t understand why she wouldn’t let you or Rosalind help her dress,” Cam argued. Perdita had been secretive, almost furtive since his return from Hope Springs that afternoon, not helping his bad mood at all. Martins of course had not died, but merely suffered from acute indigestion after eating a questionable meal of boiled mutton—a situation that could have been resolved by the local surgeon.
And even though his staff at Heart’s Ease could plan and execute the Winter Ball without his help, Cam had not liked leaving Perdita. It was her first one, and he should have been here, not running off to wait for Martin to realize he would be among them for a good while longer. Servants. Sisters. It could turn a man’s hair gray.
“She has a maid after all,” Rosalind said, opening her fan and gently waving it in front of her face. “And she said she wanted to surprise us.”
“Surprise? What surprise?” Cam asked. “I know what her gown looks like. I paid for it.”
“My lords and ladies, if I may have your attention please?” Oakley’s voice boomed out from the landing. He slowly walked to the top of the stairs, splendid in his brocade coat, and white stockings, his buckled shoes polished to a mirror’s gleam. Incredibly, he carried a staff almost as long as he was tall. He descended the stairs with more than his customary regality, stopped before them and holding himself erect, struck the floor with his staff three times.
“I present to you, Lady Perdita Hunt,” he announced solemnly. If not for the twinkle in his eyes, Oakley might have been presenting the Regent himself.
The soft rustle of a gown’s hem along the parquet floor in the hall above them announced the appearance of the young lady in question. Slowly, carefully, Perdita came down the stairs, her gaze locked on Cam’s face as if it were a beacon drawing her closer. She smiled shyly and tears pricked Cam’s eyes. His little sister was a young lady.
Then as Perdita reached the last step, he stared long and hard at her.
Green. Her gown was pale green, not the pink she loved so much. Green with a lacy overskirt. Just like the one Amanda Fleming purchased. What the devil was going on?
“I say Perdy, we’ll be beating the fellows back with Oakley’s staff after you make your bow,” Richard said.
“All the other debutantes will be wild with jealousy when they see you,” Allister predicted. “By Jove, if they won’t be!”
“It’s lovely, Perdita,” Gwenyth said softly, and Rosalind nodded.
Perdita curtsied and smiled the smile that always won her whatever she wanted. “Thank you,” she said simply.
Cam swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “A private word with your oldest brother, Perdita?”
“Ah, now the advice begins,” Richard teased as Cam took Perdita by the arm and gently led her toward the parlor.
“Don’t dance with anyone more than twice—”
“Be sure to be demure, and always stay pure—” Allister recited.
Under the noise of their family’s laughter, Cam closed the door and put his hands on Perdita’s shoulders. “Dearest, what is going on? Where is your pink gown? Why are you wearing one that looks like Miss Fleming’s?”
His sister’s eyes filled with tears. “Because it is hers. Oh, Cam, Amanda gave me her gown!”
“What?”
Perdita nodded. “ My dress arrived yesterday while you were gone and when I opened the box, there was an orange gown inside. I didn’t know what to do, so I sent for Amanda to come over early and she said I must have her dress. She took me back to the rectory straightway and sent for Mrs. Nichols, who stayed up all night remaking Amanda’s gown, so I could have it by tonight. You’ve always said I look well in pale green, almost as well as I do in pink, and there wasn’t time to make up a pink one, or send to London for another one, so you must pay Mrs. Nichols a huge amount for helping me. Oh, Cam, Amanda gave me her gown! I do love her so much; she’s become like a sister to me. You must find a way to thank her for helping me—oh Cam!” Perdita’s voice broke. “She gave me her gown!”
Tears ran down Perdita’s cheeks and Cam folded her into his arms. “Hush, darling,” he whispered against her hair. “You look beautiful. You’d look beautiful in an old horse’s blanket. Or a horse’s old blanket. Or both.”
She giggled and he took out his handkerchief to pat her cheeks. “You mustn’t have red eyes for Winter Ball,” he scolded.
“Red eyes would have clashed terribly with an orange gown,” she said, and the smile he loved so well appeared.
“Terribly,” he agreed, putting away his handkerchief. “And
yes, of course, I’ll pay Mrs. Nichols and we’ll find a way to thank Miss Fleming.”
“Amanda,” Perdita corrected. “You said you would call her Amanda when it was just us together.”
“Amanda,” he repeated. “But now, dearest—”he shot a quick glance at the clock on the mantle—”I think we best join the others in the hallway. It’s nearly eight o’clock and our guests will arrive at any time.”
“Except for the Henrys,” she teased. “They’re always late. It’s their tradition.”
“Always late,” Cam agreed and they went to the foyer to join their family while with every step his heart beat in rhythm to the word, Amanda. Amanda. Amanda.
****
“Edward Guest, Viscount Pembroke, Lady Emmaline Guest, Viscountess Pembroke, The Honorable Lucy Guest,” Oakley announced from the top of the stairs leading down to the ballroom.
Was it his imagination, or did the conversations of his surrounding guests in the nearly full ballroom die away? Descending the five steps, dressed in a gown of dazzling white, a coronet of white roses in her hair, Lucy looked every inch the aristocrat that she was. Beautiful. Posed. Polished. She was in every way, the perfect wife for an earl.
They stopped at the receiving line and Cam bowed. “Welcome to the Winter Ball,” he said, speaking the formal words. “We are so glad you are able to join us.”
“My lord, St. Cloud, the room is lovely,” Lady Emmaline said. “Whose idea was it to decorate in silver and gold? The flowers are especially beautiful.”
“It was all Perdita’s idea,” Cam answered. “I just pay the bills.�
�
The Pembrokes laughed and Lady Emmaline said, “You should be proud of yourself, Perdita. Your mother would be.”
“Perdita, you look lovely,” Lucy said, opening her fan. “But I thought you told me your gown was pink.”
“I changed my mind at the last minute,” Perdita said as Richard and Allister chatted with Pembroke. “You look very pretty too, Lucy.”
“So Richard is going to be your racer,” Pembroke cut in. “Much competition this year, St. Cloud?”
“Against the St. Clouds?” Cam affected a haughty expression. “I think not.”
“I hoped to see you race, Cameron,” Lucy said. “Richard, can we not persuade you to let Cameron race instead ?”
Richard imitated Cam’s early expression. “Not race for the St. Clouds? I think not.”
They all laughed but Cam’s felt forced and he kept his gaze on Lucy, trying not to gaze at the top of the stairs and the appearance of a certain young lady. With supreme effort, he gave his attention back to Pembroke and his family.
“And who knows what the New Year will bring?” Lady Pembroke asked, looking directly at her host. “Changes, good fortune, Perdita’s first Season, engagements—”
“The Reverend Mister Stephen Fleming and Miss Amanda Fleming,” Oakley called.
The Pembrokes moved away to mingle with the other guests, and the conversations started up again. Cam struggled to keep his features impassive as he watched the Flemings descend the steps.
Stephen Fleming looked quite smart in his ensemble of black and white, and as at home here as in the pulpit. One would think he attended balls like this all the time.
Beside him, Amanda wore a simple, high-waisted gown of ivory with a matching silver ribbon under the bodice, complimenting her brother’s attire. Among the wealth of silk and satin finery, her simplicity shimmered like a newly opened pearl, and she moved with the same confidence as her brother. Her gaze fixed on his, and Cam’s heart turned over as he recalled how she had looked in the gown that Perdita now wore. By heaven, he would pay Mrs. Nichols three times the price of the gown for helping to make Perdita’s night perfect.
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