by Dorothy Mack
There was no hint of a smile in the exquisitely polite countenance he presented to Miss Harmon when the butler closed the door, and his bow was a masterpiece of quiet good manners.
“Your very obedient servant, Miss Harmon.”
She inclined her head and requested, with equal politeness, that he be seated. If he had expected to be received by a nervous, cowed young girl offering stumbling apologies for her conduct at their last meeting, he was doomed to disappointment. Indeed, she did proffer a quiet apology for her former rudeness but in a controlled manner that belied any nervousness as she took the initiative in the interview.
“I requested this meeting, Lord Torvil, to inquire whether you still wish to make me an offer.”
Her eyes matched her hair, he noted with interest, the same light brown with gold specks when the light shone on them. He noted with equal interest that their expression was a trifle inimical.
“Do you wish me to understand that you have undergone a change of heart?” he inquired conversationally.
A fleeting suggestion of a humorous quirk touched her mouth momentarily, but she answered staidly, “That is perhaps not quite the phrase I would choose, but in essence, yes.” Her eyes did not shrink from his searching glance.
“Why? You don’t like me; in fact, I’d venture to say you dislike me rather intensely.”
“Need that signify?” There was no attempt to soften his impression.
“Perhaps I’d prefer to have a willing bride. Most men would.”
“If that were the case, my lord, you’d have contrived to meet your intended bride before making her an offer,” she retorted. “No, you’ll do as your father wishes.”
“You favour a blunt style, Miss Harmon.”
“So do you, Lord Torvil.” She was remembering that callous exchange with his mistress.
“Well, by all means, let us continue this admirable frankness, so refreshing in a woman.” He observed the slight tightening of her mouth with satisfaction. “You have not answered my question.”
“What question?”
“Why have you changed your mind? Two days ago, you said you could not marry me.”
She hesitated briefly. “My family is in dire financial straits. Your father has been most generous in the matter of settlements.”
He was relentless in his pursuit of the reason behind her volte face. “This was equally true two days ago, yet you refused me.”
“Two days ago, I did not know that my sister would be denied permission to marry the man of her choice.”
“I see.” He was silent for a long moment, but the girl showed no signs of restlessness. She appeared carved from ice. He would enjoy seeing that icy facade melt into some honest emotion, he thought with surprising intensity. “You are sacrificing yourself for your sister’s sake?”
“One of us must marry for money. My sister’s affections are already engaged.”
“And yours are not?”
“Mine are not.”
And that’s a damned lie, he fumed silently, but she appeared utterly cool and gave him look for look. He had never wished to shake a woman until her teeth rattled before, but his fingers itched to grab those shapely shoulders in the demure blue gown and shake this one until she told the truth.
“What was it about me that alienated you so?” he asked bluntly.
“My lord?”
“Don’t prevaricate. You took one look at me the other day and cried out that you could not marry me. What was it about me that struck you so adversely?”
Thick, straight lashes the same colour as her hair swept down for an instant, then those strange gold-brown eyes met his unflinchingly.
“Some things cannot be put into words, my lord.”
“Which means you won’t talk. Very well, my dear Miss Harmon, you may consider yourself betrothed. Shall we seal the bargain in the usual way?”
“What … what do you mean?”
He was pleased to note the presence of something akin to panic which flashed across her pale countenance. “Oh, come now, Miss Harmon; you are not a child. Even Lady Langston would expect us to exchange a chaste kiss on this auspicious occasion. She has so tactfully left us alone.”
She flinched at his tone, and sudden colour flooded her cheeks as she held out one hand against his chest to hold him off. “Please, my lord,” she pleaded in a strangled voice, “this marriage is actually a bargain between your father and my mother. We are the victims, but is it necessary that we give them a total victory?”
“You’ll have to clarify that statement for my benefit, Miss Harmon.”
“We must stand before a minister of God and exchange marriage vows that neither of us can possibly believe in. Need we carry the farce any further?” The ice had melted. She was very lovely, he thought, pleading in earnest to remain inviolate, but his face hardened.
“You wish this to be a marriage in name only, Miss Harmon?”
“Surely it is what we both wish! I promise I’ll not interfere with you in any way. Isn’t that enough?”
Now it was his eyes that shifted away from the importunity in hers as he realized how strongly he resented her suggestion. But it would not do to frighten her at this stage. Her earnestness had touched some chord of sympathy in him, but his words were harsh.
“My father naturally expects an heir. I cannot make you any promises of this nature.”
“For a while — for a year or two?” she begged.
“For a while,” he promised grudgingly, and viewed the easing of tension about her with very mixed emotions.
She seemed to have nothing more to say to him, and the ensuing silence showed every sign of becoming permanent. As on the night he first saw her, the delightful profile was once again presented to him, but all the life seemed to have left her; she was as remote as a statue. When he spoke again, it was obvious that her attention returned from some far place.
“My father wishes our betrothal to be announced almost immediately, but I am persuaded you would prefer that we be seen in each other’s company on some few occasions before I send the notice to the Gazette, so if I might propose…”
“It is very kind of you, Lord Torvil, to seek to spare my feelings, but I promise you it does not signify,” she said indifferently. “Neither your friends nor mine would be taken in by such a move, and as for the rest of society,” she gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders, “the opinion of strangers is a matter of complete unconcern to me. I suggest you fall in with the earl’s wishes as far as possible.”
Nicholas stared in real surprise at this unreachable girl who would soon be his wife — no, he amended that, who would soon be his wife in the eyes of the world. For Miss Harmon’s sake, he had been quite reconciled to the need for delay in the public announcement in order that the engagement should not become any more of a matter for speculation and gossip than would be natural to a surprise betrothal following a whirlwind courtship. He had been prepared to make a stand against his father had the earl proved adamant on this point, but here was the object of his charitable impulse refusing to be done charitably by. His feelings of annoyance did not bear analysing at the moment. She appeared to be patiently awaiting some comment. His tone was stiff.
“Very well then. I’ll send in the announcement immediately. Will you and your mother and sister do me the honour of accompanying me to the Opera tonight?”
“I’m sorry, we are already promised to some friends tonight.”
Nicholas gritted his teeth at her cool refusal. “Tomorrow evening, then,” he persisted, and when she still hesitated, laughed shortly. “Sooner or later you will be obliged to endure my company, you know. It would be well to become slightly better acquainted before we march up the aisle together, do you not agree?”
“I … yes, of course. Thank you, we shall be happy to come tomorrow.”
Nicholas stood up, eager to be off before he laid violent hands on this most aggravating of all females.
“I’ll arrange the details with Lady La
ngston,” he said with a blandness she found distasteful, “and we can all discuss the wedding date between the acts. It should be a delightful evening. Until tomorrow then.”
He made his unsmiling bride-to-be an elaborate bow and departed.
CHAPTER SIX
As the door closed softly behind Lord Torvil, Kate’s erect and graceful posture slumped abruptly in her chair. There was no denying the interview — confrontation rather, to give it its correct name — just concluded had been intensely enervating emotionally, but on the whole, she thought she had reason to be satisfied with her performance. Given the advantage of the inadvertent knowledge gained from witnessing the viscount’s encounter with his mistress, she had been utterly determined to control the meeting, and except for a bad moment following her proposal that their union should be in name only, she judged she had managed the feat, surely the first time in his devastating career that a female had gotten the better of that despicable man. Her lip curled somewhat bitterly. She must not be too quick to congratulate herself, though. For a moment before promising not to claim a husband’s rights, he had looked extremely dangerous, and it was no part of her plan to arouse the beast in him, or indeed to provoke the hunter in his nature. She was personally inexperienced with his type of man, but, she trusted, neither dull witted nor naive. For the sake of her survival, she must seek to fade into the background of his life as quickly as possible.
Not having been prepared for other than a compliant acceptance of the arrangement negotiated by their parents, he was off balance for the moment and genuinely surprised at her revulsion from him. And small wonder, she thought, with cynical amusement. Though not quite so classically handsome as his brother, his dark good looks and rugged masculinity must have been attracting the female of the species from the time he came out of nankeens.
“Sheep!” she muttered in disgust at the common failing of womankind.
So far, he had not tried to exercise any charm of manner over her; in fact, his pique at her rejection had rendered him abrupt and cold, but she would wager her eyeteeth that their very next meeting would find him following a new tack. And she would be well advised to soften her response to him also. Aside from the unwisdom of making all of Society privy to the real situation between them, she must set a course that would permit her to endure the smallest amount of attention possible from the viscount as fiancé and husband. So long as she contrived to convince him that her initial revulsion had been tempered to a cool willingness to deal politely and distantly with him, she would be safe. At least as a married woman she would enjoy much more freedom of action than a single female was permitted. She was determined to derive some benefit from this loveless match.
Deb and her mother would be avidly awaiting a detailed report of what had passed between them. She longed for privacy in which to recover from the effects of three days of unalloyed misery, but was aware that this blessing would be short-lived indeed. Too restless to sit any longer, she began a slow, thoughtful pacing of the pretty sitting room as she went back over what was surely the strangest proposal scene of this or any season. Although the interview had pretty well run along a course of her making, she had been pleasantly surprised at the viscount’s offer to postpone the official announcement until they had been seen together on several occasions. Based on the feelings toward the alliance that he had revealed at the Westerwood ball, she would never have credited him with the requisite degree of sensitivity and consideration.
Then why had she refused his offer in such a deliberately offhand manner? While she wrestled with this question, her light brown gaze was directed unseeingly at the graceful little satinwood desk beside which she had paused. Her fingers traced the delicate ormolu ornamentation on the corner of the leg while she acknowledged to herself that she had deliberately left him with the mistaken impression that she was impervious to gossip. No more than any other young woman did she wish to be generally regarded as incapable of arousing the affection of the man she would marry. The silky brows drew together and the busy fingers stilled as she struggled to give substance to her instinctive reaction. It must be that she refused to be beholden to him in any way. If she were to begin thinking of him as a man capable of kindness, it would distort and blur the image of him she had received at the Westerwood ball, and it was vital for her emotional survival in this marriage that she keep this image always sharp before her mind’s eye. At this point in their acquaintance, it might be next to impossible to conceive of harbouring even a single friendly impulse toward Lord Torvil, but if she began to doubt the validity of what he had showed himself to be, she might allow herself to form an attachment to him and then she would lay herself open to the wounds that only those closest to one could inflict. In this case, forewarned must be forearmed.
At this point in her reflections Deb came dancing into the room, followed slowly by Lady Langston, who could not quite erase a slightly apprehensive expression. The events of the past few days had caused her to seriously question her knowledge of her elder daughter’s character, and she was not about to breathe a sigh of relief until she read the announcement in the Gazette with her own eyes. Her glance flew to Kate’s face, and she was slightly reassured by the serenity displayed thereon. Evidently the second meeting between the affianced pair had gone smoothly.
“Tell me everything that occurred!” Deb was being adorably imperious. “What did he say? What did you reply? Everything!”
Kate smiled at her sister’s impatience but limited her comments to a vague summary of the meeting. When a disappointed Deborah demanded details, she was treated to a colourful description of the viscount’s sartorial appearance, and with that she had to be content, for Kate turned her attention to her mother and tendered the viscount’s invitation for the following evening. It seemed that, unlike Lord Torvil, Lady Langston saw nothing to deplore in the fact that the couple’s first public appearance together should follow rather than precede the announcement of their engagement, or if she did she kept her reservations to herself and began in a businesslike fashion to plan their wardrobes for the Opera.
Lady Langston had exquisite taste and was also prodigiously clever with her needle. Despite the low ebb of the family fortunes, she contrived to present herself and her daughters flawlessly gowned on all occasions. Though an experienced eye might detect the occasional refurbishing of a costume, the girls were always becomingly, if not expensively dressed, for their choice was guided by their parent’s unerring ability to judge what style and colour would set off each to her best advantage.
Their efforts were well rewarded the next night by the charmingly expressed compliments of Lord Torvil, himself the epitome of restrained elegance in the severe black and white evening ensemble brought into fashion by Mister Brummell some years previously. His breadth of shoulder and erect bearing would make him an outstanding figure in any clothing, but the black tail coat was particularly flattering to his lean good looks.
Lady Langston was also wearing black this evening, a flowing black velvet that made her skin appear whiter than ever. Her matching shawl, lavishly lined and fringed in white silk, could only be worn to advantage by a woman of such extreme slenderness. Her luxuriant black tresses were dressed high on her head and ornamented by white ostrich feathers held in place by diamond clips. Excitement had put a sparkle in her dark eyes and colour in her cheeks, and none save the severest critic could have accused the viscount of flattery when he declared he could not accept her as the mother of two grown daughters.
The ladies received him in the main saloon so there was no opportunity for the engaged couple to be private, but with no slightest show of embarrassment, the viscount produced a small jeweller’s box which he presented to his betrothed with a courtly bow. For the briefest instant, Kate struggled against her reluctance to accept anything from him before coolly receiving the tiny box with murmured thanks. With fingers that were quite steady, she opened it and stared speechlessly at the ring blazing away before her eyes.
“I h
ope you like it,” Lord Torvil said with a convincing tinge of anxiety in his deep voice. “The moment I saw it, I felt it was made for you. You were meant to wear topaz and diamonds.” As Kate still made no move to touch the gorgeous tiling, he calmly took it from the box and slipped it on her unresisting hand, kissing her fingers in a light, graceful gesture before stepping back to allow an excited Deborah to come closer to admire it.
“Oh, Kate darling, it is magnificent. Just perfect for you!”
Kate had lovely hands, long fingered and slim with smooth skin and tapering nails. The cluster of topaz stones and diamonds in an unusual spray setting of gold was indeed a perfect complement, and Lady Langston added her praises to Deborah’s. The viscount had not taken his eyes from his betrothed’s face, a fact of which she was highly conscious. She recovered quickly from her surprised delight at the first sight of the ring and flicked a composed look at Lord Torvil.
“Thank you, my lord; it is quite the loveliest ring I have ever seen.”
Kate was a good sport, and her quiet voice revealed none of the reluctance she felt in accepting and praising a gift from Lord Torvil. He might have guessed at her state of mind, however, because a slightly mocking little smile teased at the corners of his mouth.