A Perfect Likeness

by Sandra Heath

For a moment there was an awkward silence, and then he smiled. “I am sure that you have had more than enough of being cooped inside, Miss St. Charles. Shall we walk in the gardens?”

  “I should like that.” She accepted the arm he offered and they left the solar.

  The Cornish air, she thought, must be the most perfumed on earth. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment as they walked toward the fountains. How warm it was, and filled with the fragrance of roses, honeysuckle, herbs, and sea freshness. She even thought she could detect a hint of the distant moors, with their heather and gorse. It was very different from the air at Liskillen, which in her memory was heady with the scent of oak leaves from the woods where it had so often been her pleasure to ride. And where she had made those ill-fated but innocent meetings with Anthony Carmichael.

  “You seem pensive, Miss St. Charles,” said Sebastian, pausing as they reached the first fountain. The sunlight danced upon the playing water, and the air was noticeably cooler.

  “I was thinking about Liskillen.”

  “And no doubt wishing you were there instead of here.”

  “Yes.”

  “How unflatteringly honest you are.”

  “Would you have believed me if I’d denied it?”

  “Probably not.”

  She wondered suddenly about his estate in Worcestershire. “Do you ever wish you were at Sheringham Hall, Sir Sebastian?”

  “Frequently.”

  “What is it like there?”

  “It isn’t at all like Polwithiel, for to begin with it’s far inland, right on the northern slopes of the Cotswold Hills. The house itself is Elizabethan, half-timbered and rambling, and it’s approached by an avenue of fine lime trees. The views over the Vale of Evesham are very beautiful, especially in the spring when the orchards are in full blossom.”

  “You love it very much, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss St. Charles, I do, and when you go there you will understand why.”

  She looked away. “I only hope I am worthy of it.”

  “Why should you not be?”

  “Oh, perhaps because I am not blue-blooded enough.” She held his gaze then. “Perhaps Delphine would have been more suitable for you after all, Sir Sebastian.”

  He searched her face for a moment. “Perhaps, and then again perhaps not. To be honest, I have never felt the desire to find out, any more than she has. Who told you of this, Miss St. Charles? Felix, no doubt.”

  “Yes.”

  “How very rattle-tongued he is, especially on those things of which he knows very little.”

  “He seemed to know a great deal.”

  “No doubt, but the truth is that he does not. He’s never been party to my innermost thoughts, even though we were brought up together. I didn’t like him as a boy; I like him even less as a man.”

  “The feeling appears to be mutual.”

  He smiled then. “It is. My mother and his may have been sisters, but Felix always resented the fact that when I was orphaned I came here to Polwithiel instead of being sent away to one of my Sheringham relatives. He regarded me as an interloper and did his damnedest to make my life a misery.”

  “Did he succeed?”

  The smile broadened. “Only in the very beginning, but I soon gained the measure of him. He is a vain, prideful braggart, and it’s very simple to ruffle his fine feathers.”

  “I noticed that at dinner the other night.”

  “His lack of humor and his sense of his own importance is very provocative. But let’s leave such a disagreeable subject and find something more pleasant to talk of.”

  “Lady Petra, perhaps?” she said quickly, unable to help herself.

  “Petra? If you wish.”

  “She is an old friend of yours, I understand.”

  “Yes.”

  “And what of her husband, the earl? Is he an old friend too?”

  “Lowndes? Hardly.”

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “If you knew Lowndes, you would not need to ask. He isn’t exactly a jewel in society’s crown.”

  “But he must have something to commend him,” she persisted, “for Lady Petra chose to marry him, didn’t she?”

  “He had Tremont to commend him, and that is all.”

  “How unkind you are to him, for perhaps he has hidden virtues.”

  “His only virtue is that he stays well away from her for the most part. He certainly does not deserve a woman like Petra.”

  “Does anyone deserve a woman like Petra?” she replied shortly, walking on down the path. Well, she had provoked the conversation, and she had not received the indifferent response she had been subconsciously seeking. She was the end in fools, to so desperately want more than was being offered, more than a loveless marriage of convenience, but each time she was with him she knew that possessing his name was not enough, she wanted his heart as well.

  They had reached the end of the gardens now, and beyond the final flowerbeds the park swept down toward the estuary, the lie of the land drawing the eye toward the folly. A fishing fleet was making its way home, the sails brown, red, and white against the azure water. Perhaps it was the Polwithiel fleet, which had been coming in at about this time the day before, when she had been with Felix.

  But thoughts of Felix passed swiftly, barely touching her; it was her feeling for Sebastian which absorbed her, feeling which in a very short time had come perilously close to love. But how could she possibly love him? She should despise him!

  He glanced at her as she gazed at the estuary. “Is something wrong, Miss St. Charles?”

  Wrong? Yes, everything’s wrong, I’m falling in love with you and I don’t want to! I want to hate you, so that when you show your true colors, the pain will not be so great. She turned to him. Should she tell him she knew about Petra? Would it be better if there was at least that much honesty between them? But even as the thought entered her head, she suddenly looked beyond him and froze, for Petra herself was approaching. She looked enchanting in a cream muslin gown adorned with tiny pink satin bows, and a Gypsy hat tied on with a pink gauze scarf which fluttered prettily behind her. A gossamer-light shawl, knotted at the ends, was draped over her slender arms, and she was a breathtaking picture of stylish elegance, but with just the right touch of country freshness. Bryony’s confession died on her lips.

  Seeing her glance behind him, Sebastian turned, a quick smile on his lips as he saw his mistress. “Petra! I thought Falmouth town would still have you clasped tight to its bosom.” He took her hand and drew it to his lips.

  “How could I stay away?” she said lightly, her eyes flickering a little as she inclined her head to Bryony. “Besides, I grew tired of counting the packets sailing in and then sailing out again. It was very tedious sport. So, here I am again.”

  Yes, thought Bryony, here you are again, come to make certain that your lover and his future wife do not get on too famously.

  Petra smiled a little, running her fingertips over a spray of red roses. “The duchess said something about dinner—”

  “Good, plain English fare,” he said, mimicking his aunt’s voice perfectly. “But I am sure we will enjoy it in spite of that.”

  “We?” Petra’s smile became a little self-conscious and she gave a slight laugh. “Oh dear.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, it’s a little awkward, you see. I’ve made other dinner arrangements for us tonight.”

  “I’m sure your chef, temperamental as he is, will not decide to end it all if you cancel your orders, and join us at Polwithiel instead.”

  “It isn’t Jacques I’m concerned about, it’s my other guests. Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise, but now I shall have to tell you and spoil it all. You’ll never guess whom I just happened to see in Falmouth—Ozzie Rodale.”

  “Good God! I thought he was in New York!”

  “So he was. He just arrived in Falmouth this morning. Tomorrow he’s off up to Scotland to settle some famil
y business, so you see he won’t be here for very long and I just knew you’d adore to dine with him. He’s traveling with two other gentlemen, and I’ve invited them to dine with us at Tremont tonight and then they can continue their journey to Scotland in the morning. He’s so looking forward to seeing you again, Sebastian.” She laughed again. “He says that he hasn’t found anyone in America he can be as rude to as he is to you.”

  “That I can well believe,” said Sebastian with a smile.

  “What shall you do?” asked Petra lightly.

  “I’ve already agreed to dine here—”

  “Oh, I’m sure that can be changed,” she said quickly, “for Miss St. Charles could join us all at Tremont instead. Is that not a capital idea?”

  He looked at Bryony. “Would that be agreeable to you, Miss St. Charles?”

  Bryony looked at him for a long moment. “Thank you, Sir Sebastian, but I am sure that you and Mr. Rodale have much to talk about and that my presence would merely hinder things.”

  “On the contrary, we would be delighted to have you join us.”

  “I would prefer not to,” she replied coldly, inclining her head to them both and then walking away up the path toward the house. She held her head high, but she was fighting back the tears.

  Chapter Sixteen

  If the sun was bright and cheerful over the next two weeks, Bryony’s existence at Polwithiel was not. Her feelings for Sebastian made her desperately unhappy, and her troubles were greatly added to by the duchess’s determination to be as strict and unbending as possible with her tuition. Instruction of one sort or another took up the whole day and sometimes the evenings too.

  Bryony was beginning to think that the words “etiquette” and “ladylike conduct” were the only ones in the English language, but she bore everything as stoically as possible, obeying the duchess’s every command and not being guilty of anything which could even remotely be described as willful or blameworthy. She was determined to succeed, both for Liskillen’s sake and because the last thing she intended to be was a “millstone.” When she became Lady Sheringham, she wanted to be a credit to Sebastian Sheringham, whether he cared about her or not.

  There were few opportunities to relax, the duchess saw to that, but even so harsh a tutor had to relent on occasion, and at those times Bryony sought Delphine’s company. Delphine was bitterly sorry for having been the cause of so much difficulty on the first evening, and now went to great lengths to make up for it. Their friendship became closer each time they were together, and at last Delphine told her side of what had happened the previous summer when the duchess had attempted to bring off the match between her and Sebastian.

  Delphine said she had not wanted the match at all, her heart having been already given to the highly unsuitable Toby Lampeter. She was not at all interested in Sebastian, thinking of him as a brother, and she had been heartbroken when Felix had found out about her love for Toby and had dispatched her back to Polwithiel in disgrace. Toby had added to the heartbreak by only too willingly abiding by Felix’s command that he should not have any contact with his sister.

  Since her return to Cornwall, she had not had one letter from him. Bryony had sympathized with her, for heartbreak was a thing she was beginning to understand only too well. She was tempted to tell Delphine the truth about her feelings for Sebastian, but somehow she couldn’t. By keeping them secret she could pretend that they did not exist; if Delphine knew, that would no longer be possible.

  Since the afternoon in the gardens, Petra had not called at Polwithiel at all, but one day as Bryony and Delphine took tea in the solar, she was announced.

  She came in wearing a bright crimson riding habit, a little black beaver hat resting at a rakish angle on her dark red hair. Bryony regarded her with loathing, for one thing she had discovered since their last meeting was that Ozzie Rodale and his companions had not arrived at Tremont as Petra had said they would. She had gone to elaborate lengths to pretend that they surely must come, but in the end she and Sebastian had dined alone. Bryony doubted if Petra had even seen Mr. Rodale, a gentleman so safely away on the other side of the Atlantic that he wasn’t likely ever to accidentally disprove her story.

  No, the whole thing was a charade to get Sebastian away from Polwithiel, for Petra had known full well that Bryony’s reaction to being invited would be to refuse. It had all gone just as Petra had wished, and she and Sebastian had been cozily alone on his last night before returning to London....

  Petra knew nothing of Bryony’s dark thoughts. “My dears,” she said breezily, “you don’t know how delighted I am to find you at home, for I’m simply dying of ennui all by myself. Delphine, darling, you look absolutely divine. I loathe you for wearing that shade of lime so effortlessly. It always makes me look like a corpse. Ah, Miss St. Charles, I trust that you are not missing the Emerald Isle too much?”

  “I am not missing it at all, Lady Petra,” replied Bryony untruthfully.

  Petra smiled. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that, for feeling homesick is the most wretched thing imaginable. I should know. I endured it endlessly when I first married Lowndes.”

  Delphine patted the sofa beside her. “Do sit down, Petra, and take some tea with us.” She nodded at the waiting footman. “Some fresh tea, if you please.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He bowed and withdrew.

  Petra sat down, teasing off the fingers of her kid gloves. “I shall be glad of refreshment, for riding in all this heat is a fine thing, but it gives one a horrid thirst. I would not have ventured forth, but I simply couldn’t molder away at Tremont any longer.”

  Bryony looked up quickly at the use of the phrase “molder away,” for Petra had used it in her letter to Sebastian to describe the fate awaiting his bride. “Do you find it dull here in Cornwall, my lady?” she asked with apparent innocence.

  “Very,” replied Petra. “There is absolutely nothing for one to do.”

  “Then why do you not return to Town?” The question should have sounded harmless, but it came out as exactly what it was—a rather tart suggestion.

  Delphine glanced at her in surprise, and Petra paused for a moment, undecided as to how to take such a remark, but then she smiled again, “Is that what you prescribe for my malady, Miss St. Charles? Well, to be sure it does seem the obvious thing to do, but the truth is that London means Lowndes, who is in residence at our house in Hanover Square. My husband is a disagreeable monster, and therefore the boredom of Cornwall is infinitely to be preferred to the prospect of a Season when he could be encountered in every drawing room.”

  Delphine cleared her throat and flashed Bryony a cross look before addressing Petra again. “I was only thinking this morning that one of your famous water parties would be the very thing. Will you hold one soon?”

  “Do you know, the very same thought crossed my mind as I rode over here. I was passing the lake when it suddenly occurred to me that I have been very lazy of late and that I should busy my idle self with arranging an assembly and a water party.”

  She smiled at Bryony. “Everyone who is anyone in Cornwall is agog to see you for the first time, Miss St. Charles, and at the moment their first opportunity will be at the Polwithiel ball, which I know Delphine will forgive me for saying is a somewhat formal affair. The informality of one of my assemblies the day before would, I am sure, be much more pleasant for you.”

  “How kind you are to think of me, Lady Petra,” replied Bryony in a flat tone.

  Petra was a little uneasy. “As the ball is to follow the next evening, I think we must restrict dancing at the assembly. What do you say, Delphine?”

  “Oh, I agree. Besides, one tires of the same dances all the time.” Delphine flushed, avoiding Bryony’s eye, for suddenly the specter of Captain Mackintosh’s Fancy loomed rather large before them.

  Petra smiled. “I thought instead that there must be a great deal of chitter-chatter, much perambulation around the house and gardens, far too much money lost at the wicked card tables, and then
a dazzling display of fireworks to bring the evening to a close. Everyone will then go to bed until at least noon the next day, and then sally forth to the lake for my water party—weather permitting, of course. If I tempt them all with enough iced champagne, they should be suitably merry by the time the ball commences, which will wreck any chance of that function being too stuffy and staid.”

  Delphine laughed, and conversation ended for a moment as the footman returned with another tray of tea. When he had withdrawn and Delphine had poured three fresh cups, the conversation then turned upon an entirely different subject. Delphine sat back, sipping her tea for a moment, as if undecided upon how to broach a rather difficult subject. “Petra, I hope you will not be offended, but I believe that one of your tenants possesses a large gray lurcher which has been worrying our sheep.”

  Petra looked taken aback. “One of my tenants?”

  “So I believe. The wretched hound has attacked several times now and our shepherds are complaining to Felix about it. Felix is not well pleased, as you can imagine, especially as those same shepherds have already been complaining about one of our grooms, saying that he exercises the horses by riding them through their flocks. Felix cannot abide having to deal with complaints, and before he left for London he was much put out by this business with the lurcher. I thought I would warn you, for you know what my brother can be like when he is angry.”

  Petra raised a wry eyebrow. “Yes, my dear, he’s a positive boor. But as to this gray lurcher, I swear that it has nothing to do with Tremont Park. I know the lurchers owned by my tenants—and by the poachers, come to that—and they are every color under the sun except gray. I would swear upon the Bible that that is so. Please inform Felix that he need not come to see me being disagreeable and oafish, for I will not have it. He’ll be sent packing with a flea in his elegant ear, of that you may be sure. Your brother can be charm personified when he tries, but he does not try very often, and when he is being his usual arrogant self, I find him positively poisonous.”

  Petra smiled. “As I’ve told him to his face on more than one occasion. My criticisms appear to bounce off the wretched fellow—he’s too hardened by far. I pity the woman he eventually marries, for she’ll have a great deal to put up with. Goodness, is that the time? I was supposed to be receiving my land agent half an hour ago and it completely slipped my mind!”