Julian must be humoring the girl in order to secure Caroline’s attention. There could be no other explanation. Still, Julian had made no effort to seek out Caroline today, and had, indeed, spent more time talking to the tiresome boy than to anyone else of the party except the country cousin herself.
Edgar picked up the pace a bit, curious as to what the two could be discussing so assiduously. “The vineyard shows signs of producing a good wine. The recent yields have been quite promising, I understand,” Julian was saying. Good God, did these people have no idea how boring they were? Now Edgar glared at Julian’s back as well. Here was a man who had everything one could want in life—social position, plenty of scratch and a fine-looking face and form to go with it. Not to mention the wit to carry it all off. Julian Thorpe lacked nothing God or family could provide. There were times, particularly when the creditors became more wolverine than human, when Edgar felt he could hate Julian for all that he had, all that Edgar himself lacked. Well, there was one thing Julian needed and that was a wife. Something pitiful, ne’er-do-well Edgar could help him with. Julian needed a wife and had lots of money. Caroline needed a husband and could spend lots of money. It was a match made in heaven. But creditors being the howling, craven curs that they were, Edgar would have to find a way to move things along, and right quickly, too.
As if reading his mind, Caroline gave a little cry and went tumbling down, pretty little feet flying among lacy petticoats. “Julian!” she cried faintly, but she needn’t have bothered. Ever the gentleman, Thorpe was already on his way back to her. On a suspicious impulse, Edgar checked the path where Caroline had taken her fall. As he had guessed, it was as smooch and level as glass. The clever little minx. While Julian busied himself over Caroline’s prostrate, moaning form, Edgar bent down, finding immediately what he sought, beside the path. Quickly he pried the rock loose, then shifted to stand over the hole it left. It was clear this rock had lodged on that spot since the Romans, but no one else need know that.
“Oh, Julian, I tripped on a beastly rock. I believe it’s my ankle,” Caroline said, pouting prettily. “I don’t believe I’ll be able to walk on it at all.”
“Well, I’ll have to carry you then,” obliged Julian.
“Oh, I say, look here!” Edgar called, holding up the rock. “Caroline, you must have slipped on this. Nasty, sharp thing. It was right in the middle of the path. I’m sorry I didn’t fall over it first and save you the discomfort.” He stole a glance at the country cousin and was amused to note her giving him an appraising look. She was a quick-witted little thing—he had to give her credit for that—for all the good it would do her. Which was none at all.
* * * *
The frosty silence had endured so long Elspeth hardly noticed it now. For the past two days, she might as well have been on another continent as living in this ice-cold household. Even Harry tiptoed about, eyes large and bewildered. He had taken to hiding out in the kitchen, where the two kitchen maids were young enough to recognize a fellow playmate and tolerated his presence with a good-natured cheer.
No one had said she was to attend tonight’s assembly, but then no one had said she was not to attend, so Elspeth dressed now in the dark silence of her room, the single candle casting barely enough light to see by. She pulled on the deep burgundy moiré silk gown, enjoying the cool, smooth touch as it slipped over her shoulders. A lace fichu was artfully sewn into the décolletage, modest even by country standards. She had only a small mirror at her dressing table, but there was a large pier glass in the hallway, so she stepped out to check her appearance. The hallway was no better lit—Aunt Bettina was nothing if not frugal where the ton couldn’t see—but there was enough light to make out her reflection. Elspeth settled her spectacles on her nose and peered closely. She had pinned her dark brown hair up higher than usual and would have been pleased with the effect, had a few errant tendrils not asserted their independence. She attempted to fiddle the stuff up again, but gave up in defeat. Perhaps the one lady’s maid they all shared might be along to help her in a few minutes, but Elspeth had the sneaking suspicion that she might wait a long time for that to happen.
She touched the lace fichu lightly, smiling at its delicate intricacy. The deep burgundy color suited her, she thought—not too drab, but not so vibrant as to draw too much attention to herself, something she wished to avoid at all costs. Julian had promised her that virtually no one in the ton was gossiping about her, other than perhaps an amused speculation as to how soon she might forfeit Sir Richard’s rheumy eye—but, still, she felt more comfortable in modest, quiet attire. She had no wish to compete with her spiteful cousin.
She heard a gasp behind and turned quickly, in time to hear Caroline, her face mottled red, scream, “Mama, you promised!” Before Elspeth could react, Caroline had turned on her heel and flounced off in the direction of her mother’s room. Entering, she slammed the door behind her, and from within, Elspeth could hear raised, angry voices.
“What’s wrong, Owl Eyes?” hissed a small voice behind her. Harry had crept from his room and now stood behind her skirts, ready, no doubt, to bolt for safety should the need arise.
“I don’t know, Harry,” Elspeth sighed, turning to place her arms around the boy. She regretted having insisted that Harry accompany her on this blighted visit. She had thought to expose him to the gentry and improve his manners to some small extent, but between Caroline and cousin Roderick, she feared he was learning the very worst about human nature. Of course, there was Julian....
Aunt Bettina’s door opened and Caroline issued forth, pausing only to bestow a triumphant smile on Elspeth, before hastening back to her own room and again slamming the door.
“Where are you going tonight, Elspeth?” Harry asked, stepping out from behind her and casting a dubious eye at her gown.
‘To bed, I fear, dear. Just where you should be,” she replied, bending to give him a kiss.
“But you’re all dressed up,” he answered, looking confused.
“I was just trying it on to see how it looked. Now run along to bed, darling.” She heard Aunt Bettina’s door open behind her. “Hurry,” she said, giving him a playful swat. Harry was apparently of like mind with regard to confronting his aunt, and he beat a hasty retreat.
“Good evening, Aunt,” said Elspeth. “I hope you are well this evening.”
“Well, yes, thank you, Elspeth. But I fear there has been some misunderstanding. You see, under the circumstances, what with all the tongues wagging, and you know how awkward that is for poor Caroline….”
“You’d prefer that I not go to the assembly this evening, I presume?”
“Oh, no, no, my dear,” Aunt Bettina said hurriedly. “I do so wish you could. Sir Richard, you know. There are any number of ladies vying for his attention, but he seems quite taken with you. You could do worse, you know...” she trailed off, aware that she was digressing. “It’s just that I feel it would do more good for you to go to ground for a bit, as it were. Out of sight, out of mind...” she broke off again, reddening, as if she’d just realized her words could have more than one interpretation. “That is to say,” she went on, collecting her authority about her, “the tongues will stop as soon as they have other things to wag about. And when you are not present, there can be no gossip about you. Caroline feels so dreadfully for your reputation, you know,” she added, rather lamely.
“Yes, I know just how she feels,” replied Elspeth.
“As it is, I expect Mr. Thorpe to offer for Caroline, possibly this evening,” Aunt Bettina said, with a proud smile. “Such a fine match it will be, don’t you think?”
It was as if time had stopped. Elspeth could hardly breathe for the sound of her heart pounding in her chest. She made herself take a deep breath. “Indeed. My congratulations, Aunt,” she finally replied. She was surprised that the words came out at all, so constricted was her throat. “Well, I’ll say goodnight, then,” she said quickly. Without waiting for a reply, she turned away from her aunt and so
ught the sanctity of her own room, closing the door quietly behind her.
She sank into the chair at her dressing table, and peered into the very small glass that sat in front of her. Large eyes, magnified, stared back at her. Julian had said her eyes were beautiful. But, of course, all the gentlemen in Bath said such silly things. It meant nothing. A toff might well tell a lady she was beautiful, and an hour later, propose marriage to another. She was confused by the dark pain in her chest. It wasn’t because she was not going to tonight’s assembly. There was nothing about the evening’s entertainment itself that had engaged her anticipation. It was Julian Thorpe, and Julian Thorpe alone who had kept her here in Bath, in a cold and angry house where even her small brother suffered from a surfeit of disdain. It was preposterous to stay. Now he would be engaged to Caroline, and all the tongues would find amusement in the fact that the foolish country cousin had dared to presume so much. Had dared to set her sights on Mr. Thorpe, he as far above her meager circumstances as any of Queen Charlotte’s eight living sons. And then the ton would indeed laugh at the foolish Miss Quinn, Julian laughing longest and loudest at her naive temerity.
She would take Harry and go home to Weston-under-Lizard, and Julian Thorpe would never give Miss Elspeth Quinn another thought again as long as he lived on this earth. She raised her hands to her hair and began removing the pins slowly, one by one. It was hard to see by the one candle, harder still with her eyes swimming in tears. She would go home, and think about Mr. Julian Thorpe for all the rest of her lonely days.
* * * *
Julian scanned the Assembly Room but there was no sign of Elspeth. Caroline, however, was much in evidence. It seemed she managed to be everywhere he looked, smiling invitingly at him. There was no doubt she was the loveliest of all the young eligibles in attendance this evening. But hers was not the face he sought. For some reason he found he had a strong preference for soft brown hair rather than blonde, and large green eyes, rather than hard blue ones.
“Caroline is at her lovely best tonight, wouldn’t you say, Julian?” came Edgar’s voice at his elbow. “Of course that puppy Ledbetter seems to have staked out his territory. I can’t believe you’d let him poach on your grounds like that. You’d best be careful or you’ll lose her to him. And what will the pater familias have to say if you arrive home without a bride?”
“Good evening to you, Edgar. And don’t worry about me, thank you.” No point in taking any of that prodigious amount of bait. Edgar would like nothing better than to run through the Assembly Rooms this evening scattering new tidbits about Julian Thorpe and Caroline Quinn.
“Good evening, Mr. Thorpe,” came a voice at his other elbow. That voice. So far this was not shaping up to be much of an evening.
“And good evening to you, Mrs. Quinn,” he replied smoothly, bending over the hand he was offered. “I’m pleased to see that your daughter suffers no lingering effects from twisting her ankle the other day.”
“Oh, she suffered dreadfully, Mr. Thorpe,” gushed Bettina Quinn. “But you know my dear Caroline. Not a word of complaint. Not a word. I’ve put warm compresses on her ankle and it has reduced the swelling. Nothing would do but that she come this evening. She did so wish to get out a bit after being confined for the last few days. But I know she is in great pain. Not that she will ever say a word. Not a word.”
Julian refrained from mentioning that he had caught a glimpse of Caroline in High Street two days ago, strolling along with no hint of a limp, or any sort of discomfort whatsoever. Indeed, when he had examined the ankle himself shortly after the mishap, there had been no sign of swelling or bruising.
“And where is Miss Elspeth Quinn, ma’am?” he asked, again looking about. “I’ve not seen her this evening.”
The woman’s lips tightened visibly. “Elspeth is home with the headache. She is a sickly gel. Quite a lot of constant fuss about her health, really. Very demanding.”
“Sir Richard must be très distrait,” put in Edgar.
“Oh, indeed. He asked after her first thing,” replied Bettina Quinn, sounding a bit smug. “You must dance with Caroline, Mr. Thorpe. I must tell you,” she added, with an exaggerated look over her shoulder at no one, “I do believe Mr. Ledbetter will ask for her any day now. You’d best be on your toes, young man,” she advised, simpering.
“Ah, indeed,” was all Julian could muster, making a leg in preparation for a quick retreat.
“Mustn’t waste any time, then, Julian,” said Edgar, taking Julian’s arm, as if sensing his intention to flee. “Good evening to you, Mrs. Quinn,” Edgar murmured, then propelled Julian directly into the path of Caroline, who, as a matter of great coincidence, happened at that moment to be sauntering by.
“Why, good evening, Mr. Thorpe,” Caroline said with a sweet smile. Recognizing defeat when he stared it in the face, Julian offered a bow.
* * * *
It had taken a good deal of maneuvering, but Julian had at last freed himself of the determined Miss Caroline Quinn. Now his carriage approached the Quinn residence. He had slipped away from the Assembly Rooms, hoping he would not be missed, although Edgar had seemed harder to shake than Caroline. The carriage slowed and Julian peered out. The street and house were dark. He had been an idiot to come, but now that he was here, he could not make himself rap on the front of the carriage to tell his coachman to drive on.
What if she really did have the headache? He dismissed the idea immediately. Despite Bettina Quinn’s protestations, Elspeth Quinn was a sturdy young woman, not at all given to the vapors. But headache or none, how was he to knock on the door at this hour, just shy of midnight, and say he’d come calling? With her aunt at the Assembly Rooms, it would be most improper. Still, he sat inside the coach, exhorting himself not to act like a perfect fool.
He looked again, but not a flicker of light appeared at any of the windows. Wait. Was it a trick of the light, or perhaps just wishful thinking? He peered up at a window on the second floor. Indeed, what had been the faintest suggestion of light now became, very decidedly, a candle flickering against the windowpane.
But who was it? That didn’t matter, he decided, springing from the carriage, since it couldn’t be Bettina or her spawn, and those were the only residents of this establishment he’d prefer not to meet up with again this evening. He stood near a street lamp and waved his arms at the candle bearer, feeling like a fool. The candle lit the window for a minute, then retreated, its light growing dimmer and dimmer until it faded altogether. Telling his coachman to take the carriage around the corner if he gained admittance, and hoping for the best, Julian climbed the steps and stood expectantly at the front door. If no one came in a moment, he decided he would ring the bell. But less than a moment later he heard the creaks and groans of the lock being thrown. His heart was beating a tattoo in his chest. Must be drinking too much coffee these days.
The door opened just a crack and a small white face peeped out. “It is you, Mr. Thorpe!” Harry exclaimed. “Have you brought my aunt and cousin with you?” He peered with some apprehension at the carriage, which had just started off.
“Well, no, Harry. Actually, they’re still at the Assembly Rooms. May I come in?” Harry stepped aside. Blessing the lack of sophistication in a nine-year-old, Julian stepped in quickly, closing the door behind him. His carriage was unmarked, and he might not have been spotted at this hour by nosy neighbors anxious to pry into the affairs of others.
“Does Elspeth really have the headache, Harry?” Julian asked, taking the candle from the boy and heading for the library. The boy wore an old, faded dressing gown, much too large and a bit old fashioned. Julian was certain it was a hand-me-down from the boy’s dead father, and the thought gave him a pang.
“Headache? Elspeth never gets headaches,” replied Harry, trailing behind. “What do you want, anyway? Isn’t it rather late to call?”
“Well, yes and no, my boy,” Julian said, lighting a branch of candles in the library from the one he carried. “We do tend to craw
l about at all hours of the night. Now, nine in the morning—that’s an ungodly hour to call. Now, then,” he said, handing the candle back to Harry. “Run and fetch Elspeth for me. Tell her I must see her.”
“Is this entirely proper?” Harry asked, dubiously. “I don’t want to have to call you out for a duel, sir. I’m not much good with pistols yet, actually.”
“No matter. We can fence, then,” Julian said. “Swords, it will be. That will give you quite an advantage, by the way. I’m dreadful with a sword. Trips me up every time.” Harry giggled. “Actually, it will be quite proper for me to speak to your sister. You’re here, after all, and surely there’s a house full of servants.”
“The servants can’t hear anything,” Harry said, frowning. “They’re all way up on the top floor.”
All the better, my little man, Julian thought, making sure his face did not betray his thinking. “Well, you’re here, anyway. That’s good enough. Go on. Get her.” Julian made shooing motions. His nocturnal visit wasn’t at all proper, really, but as his intentions were pure, and no one would know anyway, he didn’t feel any significant qualms about the dangers of compromising Elspeth’s honor.
The boy paused at the door, turning back to look at Julian.
“Yes?” Julian queried, hoping the child wouldn’t balk now.
“No kissing, sir,” came the small but firm voice.
“None?"
“Not even one, sir. Those are my terms.”
“Very well, Harry. You drive a hard bargain.”
The boy left the room and Julian paced back and forth, waiting. Now that the die was cast, he wondered what on earth he could have been thinking of. There was no use blaming it all on demon liquor. He had had nothing to drink this evening. Not yet, anyway, he thought to himself, spying the brandy decanter that sat invitingly on a small table. He crossed the room in several long strides and poured a hefty tot into one of the cut-glass snifters that sat on the silver tray with the decanter. He took a long and satisfying draught. The brandy wasn’t bad. Probably from the late Lord Ewell’s cellar. He had kept a decent cellar, Julian recalled fondly. That and a good library. Excellent gentleman.
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