“Surely there was a comely parlormaid in your past?”
“There have been several, ma’am,” he said coolly. “But none that have captured by heart.”
She grinned. “To their regret, no doubt.”
“No doubt.”
“I can scarce believe you have not succumbed to some woman’s charms. An entrancing housekeeper, perhaps? Or a buxom cook?”
“We could certainly use a cook of any form or figure at this point,” he muttered.
She laughed, any annoyance with him now gone; he was far too much fun to tease. “I think you protest too much, Gordon. I cannot believe there is not a lost love somewhere in your past.” She leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. “Possibly a farmer’s daughter?”
“No.”
“I know.” She grinned wickedly. “A vicar’s sister?”
He paused and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he were fighting a smile. “Not that I recall.
“A governess, then?”
“Not one.”
“A merchant’s widow?”
“No.”
“A shepherdess?”
“No.”
“A lady of the house?”
His gaze shot to hers. For a moment, his controlled butler facade disappeared and the years seemed to drop away. For a moment, his gaze locked with hers and there was an intensity in his eyes that stole her breath. For a moment, she glimpsed the man he might once have been. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
“No.” His gaze dropped to the table. He rolled the dice and played as if nothing of consequence had passed between them.
But it had.
She had overstepped the barrier between mistress and servant. No, she had bounded over it. The poor man had inadvertently revealed his soul to her. Thanks to her prying, his most private secret was exposed.
From the look in his eye she knew full well he had once lost his heart to a woman above his station. A woman who had obviously broken his heart. Anger on his behalf surged through her.
She rolled the dice and forced a casual note to her voice. “Did she care for you as well?”
His tone was clipped. “Her affections were otherwise engaged.”
“I see.” She moved a marker seven spaces. She was in an excellent position, but it scarcely mattered. Her attention was firmly on the man across from her. “She was in love with someone else, then?”
“Lady Wilmont.” Gordon flattened his hands on the table and met her gaze firmly. “This was a very, very long time ago and I can scarce remember the details. My life is in the past where it belongs and I prefer it that way.”
“Of course,” she murmured and fell silent. She should let it rest. Gordon did not wish to discuss this. Still…
“So she was in love with someone else, then?”
He moved his men without looking up at her. “She was a widow still in love with her deceased husband.”
“I see.” She tried to hold her tongue and failed. “And you gave up on any possibility that with time —”
“The circumstances were unusual. I did not give up, I accepted the situation for what it was. There is a difference.” He set the dice cup firmly in front of her. “If we are quite done examining the foibles of my past, I feel I should tell you I have always enjoyed the playing of backgammon in a certain amount of peace. And silence.”
“How very interesting.” She picked up the cup and rolled, her tone light. “As I have always found conversation to be as stimulating as the game.”
“Imagine my surprise, my lady,” he murmured.
She bit back a grin. Whether he realized it or not, he was most amusing. What a strange turn her life had taken. Her butler was fast becoming her dearest friend.
Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour or the intimacy of the cozy library or the banter that accompanied their play, but it struck her that the candid relationship she and the elderly man had forged was very much the kind of relaxed comradeship she’d hoped to have with a man someday, albeit a much younger man. In her mind’s eye, she could see herself playing backgammon late into the night, talking and laughing and teasing this as-yet-unknown gentleman. There was no face, as he did not, in truth, exist in her life at this time, but she could see his hands: strong and sure and confident.
Very much like Gordon’s hands, except, of course, these would belong to the man she loved.
Chapter 6
Delia stepped into the entry at Effington Hall and drew a deep breath. The scents of childhood memories surrounded her. The odd, comforting aromas of ancient houses, vague hints of cinnamon and clove, of lemon oils and waxes, of days gone by and affection lingering always.
As good as it was to be here again, she could not dismiss a nagging sense of trepidation. It was to be expected, of course; this would be the first time she had seen most of the members of her family since her marriage and she had no idea how she would be received. Certainly her grandmother wished her presence here, but what of the others?
It would be something of a test, she supposed. As appealing as the whole idea of flouting convention and defying the rules of mourning was, Delia wasn’t entirely sure she had the courage to go through with it.
“I cannot believe it took you so long to get here.” Cassie sailed into the entry and threw her arms around her sister. “I’ve been watching for you for two days now and I very much feared you would not come at all.”
“Grandmother requested my presence and I could scarce ignore that. Regardless of my other crimes, that would be unforgivable.” Delia untangled herself from her sister’s embrace and stepped back. “I assume Mother is here as well?”
“Of course.” Cassie’s gaze skimmed over her sister and her brows drew together. “Gad, you look awful in black. I noticed the other day, but I hated to say anything.”
“Thank you for your restraint.”
“Now, now, you needn’t take that tone.” Cassie grinned. “I’m simply surprised, as I look rather nice in black.”
Delia returned the smile sweetly. “Then you can be the widow.”
“Precisely what I had in mind,” Cassie murmured with a wicked look in her eye.
“Exactly what do you mean by that?” Delia had seen that look before and didn’t like it one bit.
“Time enough for explanations later.” Cassie hooked her arm through her sister’s and steered her toward the stairs. “Your room is ready, the one connected to mine so that we may catch up on everything that has happened.”
“That should take all of a moment or two.” Delia sighed and started up the stairs beside her sister. “Nothing at all has happened in my life since we last spoke. Other than that, I have decided to spend Charles’s money on the refurbishing of the house and I should like your help.”
“What fun. I should be delighted. From the little I’ve seen of your house, it certainly needs something. It is far too dark and heavy for my taste. Yours too, I would imagine. Besides, it is your house now and you have every right to make it your own.”
“I do feel a touch guilty about it, though.”
Cassie stopped and stared. “Why on earth would you feel guilty? Charles ruined you and then had the nerve to get himself killed. I should think spending his fortune in whatever way you please is the very least you should get out of all this.”
“Cassie!”
“Oh, dear, that did sound rather mercenary and quite unsympathetic, didn’t it?”
“Indeed it did.”
“I am sorry, dearest, but that’s how I feel about it all. You were ill-treated by this man —”
“He did marry me.”
“And by doing so, enabled you to inherit his fortune. Damnably decent of him and, being quite blunt, the only favor he did you.” Cassie continued up the stairs. “You do want me to be honest, don’t you?”
“Not really,” Delia muttered.
Her sister laughed. “We shall get you settled and refreshed from the journey and, oh, before I forg
et” — her tone was deceptively casual — “Grandmother is waiting to see you.”
“What?” Delia stopped and stared in disbelief. “Now?”
“Well, not this very minute, but” — Cassie wrinkled her nose — “as soon as possible. The moment your carriage was seen in the distance, Grandmother sent me to watch for you and gathered everyone else —”
“Everyone else?” Delia’s voice rose. “What do you mean, everyone else?”
“Not really everyone. Not Father or the duke or any of the other uncles or Cousin Thomas or —”
“Who, then?” Delia asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“Aunt Katherine, of course; she is the current duchess, after all. And Aunt Abigail and Aunt Grace and —”
“Mother?”
Cassie nodded.
“Good heavens.” A heavy weight settled in the pit of Delia’s stomach. She should have known this was coming. Should have suspected the moment she learned the dowager duchess had insisted on her presence at Effington Hall, where the entire family would be in residence. Most notably its female members.
“And Gillian and Pandora and Marianne as well.”
“Of course, they would be included, wouldn’t they?” A grim note sounded in Delia’s voice. “They are the newest members of that exclusive club of Effington matrons.” She trudged up the stairs in the manner of someone climbing a scaffolding.
Cassie trailed behind her. “Yes, but they might well be far more sympathetic to your, um —”
“To the mess I’ve made of my life?”
“I’m not certain I would phrase it precisely that way… Come, now, Delia, you needn’t be at all apprehensive about this.” Cassie’s tone was deceptively optimistic. “It’s nothing more than your family wishing to —”
“It’s the Tribunal, Cassie,” Delia ground out between clenched teeth. How could she have been so stupid as to not realize it before now? She never would have come if she’d considered for a moment the fate awaiting her. “You know it as well as I.”
“Tribunal is such a harsh word,” Cassie murmured. “We should never have called it that in the first place. Gathering is a much more pleasant word. The gathering of the ladies. As if it were a social society. A club, or something of the sort. I know — the Society of Effington Ladies. Yes, indeed, I like that much better. It has a lovely ring to it.”
“It can sing like a robin, for all the good it will do me.” Delia heaved a heartfelt sigh. “I’m doomed.”
Delia and Cassie had noted some years ago their grandmother gathered her daughters-in-law together whenever there was an issue of importance regarding a family member, usually a female member. Indeed, the Effington men were never included in the Tribunal and Delia imagined they were most grateful for that omission.
The sisters, influenced by their French studies, had privately named it the Tribunal, partially because it seemed rather forbidding, and partially because whatever went on in that room between their female relatives, and whoever might be summoned before them, stayed within that room. Neither their grandmother nor their mother nor their aunts had ever given so much of a hint as to the proceedings. Which made it all the more sinister, as secrecy among Effingtons, especially Effington women, was a rare commodity.
According to the sisters’ observations, the Tribunal was called in cases of scandal, dire circumstances or to pronounce a prospective Effington spouse worthy. Before their marriage, Pandora’s husband had been summoned before the women and had obviously taken a vow of secrecy, as he had apparently never told a soul what had transpired in the ladies’ parlor at Effington Hall.
“Doomed is rather a harsh word as well.” Cassie sighed. “If it eases your mind at all, you should know I will be right by your side. In truth, I insisted on it.”
“Why?” Delia studied her sister suspiciously.
“Because I am your sister and your closest friend.” Cassie raised her chin in a noble gesture. “Because, regardless of what you do, I will stand beside you. Because there is a bond between us nothing can ever sever. Because —”
“Because no one believes you had nothing to do with my scandalous behavior?” Delia said wryly.
“Yes, well, that too.” Cassie shrugged. “At any rate, we have both long expected that if either of us did anything serious enough for the Tribunal, it would be me. As you did promise to be by my side, I can do no less for you.”
At once, Delia’s apprehension lessened. She and her sister had always been a team of sorts, partners in chaos or crime, allies forever. With Cassie by her side she could indeed face anything. Even the Tribunal. Impulsively, she gave her sister a quick hug. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”
“Besides” — Cassie grinned — “this is my only opportunity to find out what truly goes on in that parlor without having to earn the privilege.”
Delia stared for a moment, then laughed. “I should have known as much.”
“You know as well that I’m teasing, although, I suppose, as I did think I would be in this position one day, I am better prepared to face it than you. I have always thought it was inevitable for me, whereas for you
“Yes, yes.” Delia sighed. “I am the one no one ever expected to stray from propriety.”
The women reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the family wing, down a long corridor lined with the portraits of generations of Effingtons. When they were very young, Delia and Cassie had thought the faces staring down at them were forbidding, even condemning, as if they were sitting in judgment of their descendents and finding them wanting.
But as the girls grew older, they’d noticed a hint of a smile here, an amused look in an eye there. They’d paid more attention to the stories of those who had gone before them, about this particular duchess and that certain lord. About triumphs and tragedies, success and scandals. And they’d learned, because it was their lot to do so but more because it became a pleasure, of the heritage and tradition that made the Effingtons who and what they were today. That made Delia and Cassie who and what they were and, more, who they could become.
And if once these faces staring down at her had proven daunting, today they gave her an odd sort of strength. As if they were no longer critical but encouraging. As if to say certainly she had made mistakes, but indeed hadn’t they all? It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Still…she smiled up at her ancestors.
“However, now that I have joined the ranks of Effingtons who did not live their lives entirely as expected” — Delia squared her shoulders and met her sister’s gaze — “the first step toward the grand adventure of my new life is to summon the courage to face whatever consequences that mistake may bring.”
Cassie studied her warily. “Grand adventure?”
Delia grinned and linked her arm through her sister’s. “I have done a great deal of thinking in my solitude and I will explain it all to you later. For now, I would like to freshen up and then I shall face the Tribunal.”
“We shall face the Tribunal,” Cassie said firmly.
Delia squeezed her sister’s arm affectionately. “As you were aware of this before I was, I don’t suppose you have any plan of defense? Any suggestions or words of wisdom?”
“Not really. Although I have always heard, when confronting adversity, one should never show fear. Beyond that, I suspect it might be wise to avoid any mention of the term” — Cassie grinned — “Tribunal.”
* * *
Delia and Cassie traded cautious glances. They sat side by side on a small settee facing the rest of the female members of the family. If one didn’t know better, one would think the arrangement of the seating was for nothing more sinister than purposes of casual conversation.
In truth, it didn’t seem all that forbidding at the moment. On the contrary, it was much more on the order of a ladies’ society than a tribunal with the power of a figurative guillotine in its hands.
Grandmother sat as regally as ever on the damask sofa, Aunt Katherine, the duchess,
on her right, Aunt Abigail, Lady Edward, on her left. Aunt Grace, Lady Harold, perched on the arm of the sofa and their mother stood behind the rest, obviously too overwrought to sit. Cousin Thomas’s wife, Marianne, Lady Helmsley; cousin Gillian, Lady Shelbrooke; and cousin Pandora, Lady Trent, sat off to one side. Pandora caught Delia’s eye and winked in support.
Still, a man-eating tiger didn’t seem all that forbidding either until it opened its mouth.
“You needn’t look so nervous, you know,” Aunt Katherine said with a pleasant smile. “As if you were about to be judged. This isn’t at all what we are about.”
“What are we about?” Delia said without thinking.
“Your life, Philadelphia,” Grandmother said firmly.
“I suspected as much, Grandmother, and I am sorry about the scandal and —”
“Nonsense.” Grandmother waved away the comment. “As scandals go, it scarcely signifies.”
“It was certainly more impressive than anything I was ever involved in,” Pandora said in a low aside to Gillian. Gillian shot her a quelling glance.
Grandmother ignored the exchange. “While our approval of your choice in husband is, at this time, neither here nor there since the poor man is dead, the manner in which you wed and the behavior that brought you to that point is most distressing.”
“I know, Grandmother, I never meant —”
“However,” Grandmother continued, “there is not one of us here who has not, at some time or another in our youth, displayed behavior that was inappropriate or ill-advised or, indeed, scandalous.”
“Even Aunt Katherine?” Cassie asked.
Grandmother nodded. “Especially Aunt Katherine.”
“I don’t know that I’d use the word especially,” Aunt Katherine murmured, looking more like a chastised schoolgirl than the current Duchess of Roxborough.
“Surely, you never —” Delia said without thinking. “What I mean to say is —”
“My dear Philadelphia, while it is perhaps difficult to realize now, I was not always as wise and ancient and perfect as I appear today.” A wicked twinkle sparked in Grandmother’s eye. “I myself had my share of, oh, shall we say, adventures in my youth. I survived and so shall you.”
The Lady In Question Page 9