by Sandra Heath
“I would rather you spared yourself the trouble, sir. Indeed I would rather you left this apartment immediately.”
“I’m afraid that I’m exceeding comfortable here, enjoying the interesting view, so you will either have to endure my tiresome requests or make a dreadful scene—which I doubt you wish to do.” He glanced from the window again. “Which reminds me, how is my cousin? As attentive and determined as ever?”
She stared at him. “I wish you would leave me alone, sir, for I am nothing to you and it ill becomes you to conduct yourself in this way.”
His dark eyes swung back toward her. “How can you say you are nothing to me?” he asked softly. “Are you party to my every thought? Do you know what I feel in my heart? No, you don’t know anything about it, so please do not presume to offer me what is, after all, merely your opinion. Now, then, your gown is waiting for you, as I am waiting for you.”
Madame Colbert’s assistant was a short, dumpy woman, her gray hair tugged back into a severe knot and her rosy-cheeked face somehow at odds with the somber black of her gown. Helped by Sally, she drew the gown from its thin muslin cover, and they displayed it over their arms for Bryony to see. Madame Colbert had excelled herself, for it was the most beautiful gown Bryony had ever seen, made of a snowy-white silk which was so fine and soft that it seemed to spill to the floor.
It was embroidered on the bodice, tiny sleeves and hem with swirls of silver-green rosebuds and leaves, while the long, elegant train was sprinkled with more of the same embroidered flowers. It was a gown from which dreams are made, and under any other circumstances Bryony would have been in ecstasies at the thought of wearing it, but somehow she could not join in with Sally’s gasps of delight as they removed her primrose muslin and finally did up the last little hook and eye at the back of the white silk. They then stepped back to admire her.
Sally’s eyes shone. “Oh, Miss Bryony, you look lovely.”
The assistant beamed as well, “It’s one of Madame Colbert’s finest creations, quite perfect, and not a single stitch will need altering!”
On impulse Sally picked up a comb and some pins, gathering Bryony’s long hair together and combing it quickly before lightly twisting it up into a loose knot. “There, now you look more as you will on the night of the ball. Oh, I can just see you now, making your grand entry and looking like a princess. There’ll be no one to hold a candle to you, Miss Bryony, not even Lady Delphine or Lady Petra.”
The assistant had been busily tweaking out the folds of white silk, but now she straightened. “Shall we go through to show his grace? He told me that you’d expressed a wish for him to see the gown, so that he could give you his opinion.”
Had he indeed? Bryony was angry and for a moment thought of refusing, but that might have looked strange and would certainly have aroused the assistant’s curiosity. Oh, how she wished Felix, Duke of Calborough, would take his scheming elsewhere and leave her alone!
Felix rose slowly to his feet as she entered the drawing room. The admiration was clear in his eyes as he swept her from head to toe. “You never cease to surprise me, Miss St. Charles,” he said softly.
“Good.”
He smiled a little, turning to the assistant. “I’m pleased with the gown, but of course you may only tell Madame Colbert that in my opinion it is tolerable.”
The assistant’s eyes widened. “Oh, your grace, I would not dare to tell her such a thing!”
“Very well, I will be lenient with you, you may tell her that I think the gown is delightful, but you need not tell her also that I sent you down to the kitchens with Miss St. Charles’s maid to enjoy a glass or two of my finest wine.”
“Your grace is too kind,” replied the assistant, unable to conceal her pleasure.
Felix nodded at Sally. “You may go.”
Her maid looked questioningly at Bryony, knowing that she did not wish to be left alone with him, but Bryony had no real choice but to nod. “It’s quite all right, I shall not need you for the moment.”
When they had gone, she immediately moved away from him. “‘You presume a great deal, sir,” she said coldly, “and I do not find it pleasing to have you conducting yourself as if you have my consent to everything. Nor do I like it that you continually contrive to be alone with me. I have told you that I don’t wish to have anything to do with you, and that is still my wish.”
He smiled. “Come now, I’m sure you do not mean that.”
“But I do!” she snapped angrily. “Don’t bother employing your wiles upon me, sirrah, for it will avail you of nothing!”
“I employ no wiles,” he said softly, “for I mean every word I say to you. I admit to having behaved poorly, to having caused you distress, but I also admit that I regret it most sincerely. I hold you in great regard, Bryony.”
She stared at him. “Do you? I seem to recall your saying quite the opposite.”
“I want you to forget my sins, Bryony.”
“Don’t call me by my first name, you do not have my permission. And don’t expect me to forget all you said to me, for I cannot. I know that you meant every word—it was written too clearly in your eyes.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Please go now.”
“Not until you say you forgive me.”
“Very well, I will leave.” She moved toward the door, but he caught her hand.
“Bryony, I cannot accept that you hate me. Nor can I accept,” he added softly, “that you are going to be my damned cousin’s wife. I will not relinquish you to him.”
She twisted her hand away. “Relinquish me! You presume too much again, sirrah, for you cannot relinquish that which was never yours in the first place! I am going to marry Sir Sebastian, and it really is immaterial to me whether you accept it or not. I am here beneath your roof, but that does not give you the right to say or do as you please where I am concerned, and if you will not cease conducting yourself in this way, then I shall ask Sir Sebastian to take me away from here.”
Something passed through his eyes, but she could not tell what it was. Then his smile returned. “Trust me, Bryony.”
“I’ve looked into the mirror, Felix Calborough, and I’ve seen your false reflection.”
“What you see is not false.” He came closer. “Is Liskillen your only reason for marrying Sebastian?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you love him?”
Hot color flooded into her cheeks. “No!”
His dark eyes rested shrewdly on her. “No? Very well, let us agree that Liskillen is the pivot upon which all this turns. But is my cousin the only man who can save it for you?”
“No,” she admitted after a moment, “he isn’t the only man who can, but he’s the only one who will.”
“Is he? Look at me, Bryony St. Charles, and then say again that he’s the only man who will.”
She stared at him. “What are you saying?”
“That I want you very much, too much to let my cousin have you.”
Renewed anger darkened her face. “And you think Liskillen’s debts are my price?”
“Liskillen is your reason for entering into a loveless marriage of convenience.”
“Don’t say any more,” she breathed, “for I know only too well what your next move will be.”
“Do you?”
“Oh, yes,” she said quietly, “you’ll offer to settle my father’s debts if I’ll consent to give myself to you. And if you say that, sirrah, I’ll refuse you, for I will not be any man’s mistress, not even if that man be a duke!”
“You’re making a mistake, Bryony, for I promise you that there could be infinitely more pleasure in an hour spent with me than there could be in a lifetime spent with my cousin.”
“Please leave,” she said in a voice which quivered with fury, “I’ve nothing more to say to you.”
“You will, Bryony. In the end, you will.” He left her.
Chapter Twenty-five
Delphine came to her not long after
ward to return the book she had left in the summerhouse. Bryony still wore the new gown, and the moment Delphine saw it she halted in astonishment.
“Why, it’s beautiful,” she breathed, “quite the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.”
Bryony had been still angry about what Felix had attempted to suggest, but now she smiled. “It’s certainly the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen.”
“I’ll have to choose my own togs with especial care if I’m not to be eclipsed at the ball.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever eclipse you, Delphine.”
Delphine continued to look at the gown for a moment and then she went to the window seat, arranging her skirts a little nervously. “Things did not go well between you and Sebastian in the summerhouse, did they?”
“Not exactly,” replied Bryony, looking curiously at her, “but then, they never do.”
“It will not improve.”
“No, probably not.”
“It grieves me to think of how unhappy you’ll be with him, it grieves me more than you realize.” Delphine was avoiding her eyes. “I don’t want you to misunderstand what I am about to say, nor do I want you to take offense.”
A little puzzled, Bryony went to sit beside her, taking her hand gently. “I am sure I will not be offended, for nothing you say could offend me—you are too good and kind a friend.”
Delphine took a deep breath. “I said earlier that I had thought of a way you could avoid marrying Sebastian.”
“Yes?”
“I am not without a fortune of my own, Bryony. I would gladly settle your father’s debts and relieve you of the intolerable burden of this match.”
Bryony stared at her. “Oh, Delphine—” she began.
“There, I knew I’d offend you!” Delphine’s eyes filled with sudden tears and she turned her head away. “When I first thought of it in the summerhouse, I was so delighted, but then I thought a little more, and I knew that I would have to say it to you, but that I would make you angry with me.”
“Oh, please don’t think I’m angry or offended, for I’m not,” said Bryony anxiously. “I’m very honored that you should wish to do this for me, for it is the most kind and generous thing imaginable, but of course I cannot accept.”
“But I want to help you, and it is in my power to do so!” cried Delphine. “I know that both Felix and my mother would be furious if they knew, but they do not have to find out, and—”
“Please, Delphine, don’t upset yourself, and don’t misunderstand me when I say again that I cannot accept your offer. To begin with, I do not wish to be the cause of trouble between you and the rest of your family, and then there is my father to think of. He simply would not agree to such a step, I know that he wouldn’t. The sum of money involved is very considerable, meeting it would almost certainly leave you with nothing, and Liskillen would take many years to pay back such an amount. My marrying Sebastian will solve the matter once and for all, and so that is what I must do.”
She smiled gently. “Now I am the one who must hope she is not misunderstood, for I appreciate from the bottom of my heart the offer you have made, truly I do, but I cannot possibly accept.”
Delphine was silent for a moment. “The marriage still goes ahead?”
“Yes.”
“And there is absolutely nothing I can say to make you change your mind?”
Bryony shook her head.
Delphine got up. “I will go then, for that is all I really came to say.” Gathering her skirts, she hurried from the room, and Bryony gazed sadly after her.
Within the space of one short hour she had had two offers to meet her father’s debts and relieve her of the Sheringham match; she had not been able to accept either.
* * *
From then until the evening of the assembly two days later, she saw Felix only once, and that was at dinner. It was a disagreeable meal, the first in some time attended by everyone, including the duchess, who was conveyed to the winter parlor in her wheelchair. The sound of that chair seemed to echo through the entire house, a slow squeak-squeak which when heard always heralded a difficult moment of one sort or another for anyone she encountered, even Felix.
The duchess’s tetchiness was of a particularly tedious nature, but it was upon poor Delphine that the brunt of it had been falling, for she was expected to dance attendance upon her mother, providing her with companionship, conversation, and entertainment in the form of reading aloud. Delphine had been enduring it stoically, but it seemed to Bryony that after the day Sebastian had called, Delphine was suddenly brought very low by everything, looking pale and wan, and frequently on the verge of tears.
For once Felix showed his sister a little sympathy, taking her aside in the solar before dinner and telling her that she would be able to enjoy the assembly and the water party to her heart’s content as the duchess had elected to forgo both in order to reserve her energy for the ball. But even this had failed to raise her spirits.
Bryony’s heart had sunk a little when Felix had joined them, but he did not go out of his way to speak to her or single her out in any way, although during the evening she was frequently aware of his dark gaze resting thoughtfully upon her. After dinner they had returned to the solar, and he had opportunity enough to speak to her when the duchess was listening to Delphine play the harpsichord, but he sat apart from her and said hardly a word. When she retired to her apartment, he merely rose politely to his feet as she withdrew; he did not, as on that other occasion, insist upon escorting her to her door.
Now it was the evening of the assembly, and Bryony was dressed in the new white silk gown. The bruise on her forehead was carefully disguised by the application of a Chinese paper, and her hair dressed up in a knot and decorated with white rosebuds. She carried a shawl and a reticule, and there was a little posy of the rosebuds attached to a ribbon around her wrist.
Felix and Delphine had already departed for Tremont when Sebastian’s carriage arrived in the quadrangle. Bryony took a deep breath to steady her nerves and then left her apartment to go down to the hall, where preparations were going on for the ball the following evening, and where Sebastian was in conversation with the duchess while he waited.
The duchess’s wheelchair had been placed upon the dais so that she could supervise all that went on. Workmen were hammering and sawing wood as an arbor was erected against the long wall opposite the stained-glass windows, while at the far end of the chamber, close to the doors of the porch, a number of other men were engaged upon counting and checking the vast quantity of variegated lanterns which were to be set around the walls of the quadrangle.
Hundreds of other lanterns had been hung in the trees of the park throughout the day, and several wagons of flowers had been unloaded and left in buckets in the shady kitchen garden. The duchess was concerned about the exact positioning of large hoops of fruit, greenery, and ribbons which were to be suspended from the hammerbeam roof far above.
Immense ladders had been raised and men were endeavoring to move one of the hoops an inch or so to one side or the other as the duchess directed, while Sebastian stood a little to one side, his mouth concealed by his hand to hide either his amusement at his aunt’s meticulous attention to detail or his concern for the men’s safety as they wobbled at the tops of the ladders—Bryony could not tell which.
She paused for a moment before going into the hall, looking across at Sebastian before he knew she was there. He looked very elegant in his tight black velvet evening coat with its flat gilt buttons, and the shape of his long, well-formed legs was outlined perfectly by his pale gray breeches. The top buttons of his silver brocade waistcoat were left open to reveal the crisp frills of his shirt, and his valet had made a magnificent effort with his intricately tied neckcloth. His disheveled golden hair, always so startling, looked particularly arresting when he was dressed so formally, and even from that distance she could see how very blue his eyes were as he watched the men on the ladders.
She approached the dais
then, the clear white of her silk gown standing out amid the turmoil of all the preparations, and he could not help but notice her immediately. His glance raked her slowly from head to toe and came to rest at last on her pale face. He smiled a little, inclining his head. “Good evening, Miss St. Charles,” he said above the noise.
She sank into a curtsy. “Good evening, Sir Sebastian.”
The duchess sniffed, her lips pursed as if she were being forced to suck upon a lemon. “I suppose you look tolerably well, missy, and since I shall not be present I shall have to trust that you will conduct yourself becomingly tonight.” She glanced up severely at her nephew. “This is all a dreadful error on your part, Sebastian, as I believe you will soon find out to your cost.”
“I do not wish to discuss it, Aunt Calborough,” he replied, “and I would thank you not to speak in such a way in front of Miss St. Charles again.”
Bryony looked at him in surprise, and the duchess’s cheeks became fiery. Her lips pursed still more and her pointed nose seemed to twitch a little, and then she gestured angrily to the waiting footman, who hurried to wheel her away down the ramp which had been placed against the dais for the purpose.
Sebastian turned to Bryony. “If you are ready to depart, I suggest we go out to the carriage.” He offered her his arm and she slowly slipped her hand over the smooth velvet of his sleeve.
They proceeded through the noise and clatter to the porch and out into the sunny warmth of the late-July evening. Sebastian handed her into the waiting carriage, an open landau, and a moment later they were driving down through the park. The estuary sparkled beneath a golden sky as the summer sun hung lower in the west, and when she glanced back at the house the windows caught the light, as if chandeliers glittered brightly in every room. It was a perfect evening, warm and scented.
Sebastian lounged back on the seat opposite, his eyes pensive as he watched her for a moment. “You look very lovely tonight, Miss St. Charles.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You seem startled that I should pay you a compliment.”