by Dorothy Mack
“My dear Miss Wayne, will you forgive me if we make this our last rubber for the evening? Tomorrow you shall have your revenge, but I must confess I am beginning to feel a bit sleepy.”
“Oh, my lord, I beg your pardon for keeping you up so late when your ankle must be giving you pain. I am a typical loser, never knowing when to stop. And I must confess I shall be happy to throw this particular hand in,” she said, suiting the action to the words although he protested. “What time is it anyway?”
On being told it was nearly midnight, she gasped with amazement and rapidly gathered the cards together.
He laughed again and put a large hand over hers on the table. “My ankle is fine, my little gamester. It is merely that I am sleepy and you, apparently, are tireless in pursuit of Dame Fortune.”
She blushed hotly and withdrew her hand under the pretext of gathering the last of the cards together. Rising too quickly, she failed to notice her skirt caught under a chair leg. She lurched sideways and would have fallen but for the viscount’s strong arm immediately around her waist as he jumped up, knocking over his chair. She fell back against his chest, momentarily unable to regain her footing. The hard beating of his heart was instantly apparent, and her own set up a counterrhythm with its hammering.
Fighting an almost overpowering urge to turn in his arms which had tightened about her, she stiffened and tried to move away. His arms loosened instantly but something caught her hair, jerking her head back.
“What on earth?” She tried to move her head to the side but the viscount said abruptly:
“Wait. A pin in your hair is caught in my tiepin I think, but I cannot see where to release it.”
However, waiting in such close proximity to him was intolerable to Angelica. A second impatient jerk of her head and she was free, but her hair came loose from its knot and tumbled down her back. Automatically putting up a hand to gather her hair to re-pin it, she encountered his hand in her hair and dropped hers as though burned by the brief contact. Avoiding his eyes, she moved a step away. Again, she gathered the long tresses in her hand but was unable to find any pins.
“Here.” His voice was husky, almost harsh. Glancing from under a shield of eyelashes, she saw two of her pins in his extended hand.
“Th… thank you,” she said haltingly, accepting first one pin and then the other while she twisted her hair with fumbling fingers and attempted, not too successfully, to secure the mass with the inadequate pins. “I’m afraid I do not possess Annie’s skill at arranging my hair. I shall simply have to cut it.” She was scarcely aware of what she was saying, prattling for the sole purpose of concealing her nervous agitation at the intimacy of the last few minutes.
At his explosive “No!” she looked up in surprise, meeting his eyes for the first time since her awkward stumble had precipitated the embarrassing scene. His eyes glowed darkly in a strangely pale face. The candles burning low in the chandelier cast flickering shadows that made his mouth appear grimmer than usual.
“I … I beg your pardon?”
“Do not cut your hair. It’s very beautiful and it suits you. I… It is very late. Goodnight, Miss Wayne.” He turned away abruptly to pick up his stick.
For an instant she stood as though in a daze, then with an almost inaudible, “Goodnight, my lord,” turned and walked quietly out of the room. Once on the other side of the door, however, her poise deserted her, and by the time she reached the handsome stairway she was running, trying to escape from the terrible realization which had struck her like a thunderclap when she had looked at the stern, pale face of her employer just a moment before. She loved him! Ten years had not made any difference. She had loved him as a child of thirteen, she still loved him and she had never felt more miserable in her entire life. It was fortunate that she met no one on the stairs or in the halls, because by the time she reached the sanctuary of her room, tears were streaming down her face and her heavy hair had come loose from its two pins and was streaming down her back.
The next morning, a pale and heavy-eyed Angelica entered the morning room rather late in the hope that the viscount, who was an early riser, would already have left. In this she was gratified, but Lydia, looking up with a smiling welcome, said immediately, “Good gracious, Angel, you look ghastly. Are you sickening for something?”
“No, of course not. It is just that I did not sleep well last night with a persistent headache. I shall do fine when I have had some coffee.” Sitting, Angelica poured coffee from a silver pot and liberally added cream and sugar. The thought of food choked her, but the smell of the coffee was revitalizing. She warmed her cold hands on the cup and took a deep swallow.
Lydia’s voice broke in on her reflections. “Giles looked under the weather this morning also, though I must say he nearly took my head off when I mentioned it. He went off to the library to work with nothing more than coffee in him, too. He is trying to rush that foot, that is what it is.”
Angelica stirred guiltily. “I’m afraid I kept him up very late playing piquet.”
“Did you win?” asked Lydia with a wicked grin.
“Need you ask?”
Lydia giggled. “Not really. If Giles ever lost his fortune, he could set up as a gamester.”
“I was not used to think my play contemptible, but the outcome last night was never in doubt. Well, I must be off to the schoolroom. Jenny will wonder what has become of me.”
Angelica escaped thankfully to the schoolroom. She could not bear to discuss Giles even with his sister after the revelation of the previous night. How could she have been so stupid, so completely foolish, as to have fallen in love with a man who probably regarded her as an upper servant, moreover a man who was to be married to a spectacularly beautiful woman in less than three weeks? There had been no answer to this agonizing question during the long sleepless night, and she was no closer to a solution now. At least in the schoolroom she could usually manage to keep all personal matters in the background. Today she was not completely successful in banishing the viscount’s image from her thoughts, but at least by lunchtime she was feeling more able to cope with life in general. Lydia was to join them for lunch. By way of a greeting, she said ruefully:
“Well, I do hope you are feeling better now, Angel, because I fear I have some news which is enough to ruin anyone’s day. Barbara is coming to visit her Dear Giles today, only a little more than a sennight after his injury, and we are to be present to offer her tea.”
“Shush, Lydia,” said Angelica, with a glance at Jenny who was all big eyes and ears. “Naturally you must play hostess unless Lady Orbridge is feeling well enough to preside over the tea table, but surely there is no necessity for me to intrude on a family gathering.”
“Aunt Minerva has met Barbara only once. Giles brought her here shortly after their engagement. To be blunt, they rather took each other in dislike. Aunt Min says she is totally affected. Barbara says nothing, to me at least, but she has never repeated her visit. I went to see Aunt after Giles gave me Barbara’s note and asked her to help entertain our guests, but she is feeling a bit knaggy today so I did not persist.”
“If you would not object too much, Lydia, I still have the headache a trifle. I had thought a quiet afternoon might banish it completely.” She hated to desert Lydia, but Angelica felt totally unable to confront Lady Barbara until she had regained some of her composure. Last night had completely shattered her peace of mind, and so far her only thoughts had been of escape.
Lydia looked at her closely, then said kindly, “I do not blame you for crying off and you do look sadly pulled, my dear. I shall have to do the honours alone. Giles has already made me promise to be the perfect hostess, all sugar and honey.” She pulled a wry face which made Jenny laugh.
Angelica achieved a wan smile, but she scarcely listened to the lively chatter between Jenny and Lydia and was only faintly aware of Nurse’s deep voice like a minor chord at intervals. She bent her attention to a pretence of eating until she could make her excuses and retire
to her rooms.
Solitude, however, did little to restore her spirits. She wished nothing so much as to escape from this house which held everything she loved. How could she stay and witness the arrival of another woman as its mistress? In one sense, it might be easier if Lady Barbara were in love with the viscount. At least then his happiness would be assured, and she hoped she had enough character to want his happiness first. If her reading of the situation were correct, however, this marriage which was so nearly upon them would bring contentment to neither. Nor would there be any benefit to Jenny to have a stepmother who would take away the attention she was beginning to enjoy from her father. Angelica had little doubt that Lady Barbara would be a demanding wife. She was too used to being courted to willingly share her husband with a young daughter. Lydia detested her prospective sister-in-law, but she at least could escape to marriage.
Her own presence would serve to insulate Jenny from some of the disappointment she foresaw. Angelica was aware that the lovely child had rapidly developed a deep affection for her new governess, and she returned it in full measure. But could she remain here even for Jenny when Giles married? Her rebellious heart cried out against such punishment. How could she put him out of her mind and make a new life for herself if she were forced to live under his roof?
She found herself pacing the sitting room floor as she had paced the bedroom floor last night. Suddenly she stopped, revolted by her own submission to misery, and seizing her workbox, began to sew the dress she had cut out for Lydia’s ball. The task was vaguely soothing, and she was a good deal calmer when a knock sounded at the door.
It was one of the maids to say that his lordship desired Miss Wayne to bring his daughter to the drawing room to meet his guests. Angelica bit her lower lip fiercely, but maintained a composure that was all pose. She promised to appear with Jenny as soon as possible. Glancing hastily into the mirror, she saw that her hair was coming loose and had to take the time to re-pin it. In an unconscious reflection of her mood, she had worn the grey wool in which she had arrived at Grosvenor Square just a fortnight ago. It was too late to change, and indeed why should she attempt to compete with the beautiful Barbara? She hurried to Jenny’s room, where Nurse was helping her charge to don a charming dress of frilled pink muslin with deeper pink ribbons. Jenny was all excited at the prospect of greeting guests and her deep blue eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Angelica praised her appearance, and together they descended the stairs to the main apartment. Jenny was not usually shy, but she had only met Lady Barbara twice before and stood a little in awe of her. As they approached the drawing room, she slipped her hand in Angelica’s and smiled trustingly up at her.
It was thus they entered the room from which light voices and laughter drifted. Angelica’s eyes instinctively flew to the viscount sitting on a blue sofa, then she glanced away and thereafter avoided looking at him. One glance was sufficient to show her that he was at his most sardonic. His face wore the familiar mocking smile as he listened to something Lady Barbara, seated at his side, was saying. Dressed in a deep red which suited her brunette colouring, she was as vibrant as a deep dark rose. She broke off as the newcomers entered, and holding out both hands, charmingly bade Jenny come and kiss her. The little girl dropped a shy curtsy and pressed her lips to the scented cheek offered her. She smiled at Lady Barbara but nestled into the arm her father had wrapped around her.
“It’s so lovely to see you again, Jenny. Please say she may have some tea, Giles. I shall make it for her myself, just as she likes it.” Lady Barbara smiled enticingly up at the viscount.
He smiled lazily back. “Of course you may do as you wish, my dear Barbara.”
Lydia relinquished the teapot briefly while Lady Barbara prepared Jenny’s tea and settled the child on the long sofa on her other side. She resumed her place at the right of the viscount and seemed to see Angelica for the first time.
“How do you do, Miss Wayne? It is nice to see you again, looking charming as always.”
Angelica knew she looked anything but charming, but responded quietly and summoned up a social smile. She accepted tea from Lydia and seated herself as far from the sofa as was possible, greeting the other guests. She knew the countess and was introduced to Lady Barbara’s sister, a girl of Lydia’s age, who although not possessing her sister’s beauty was still a very pretty girl. In colouring she was fairer than Lady Barbara, having medium brown hair and hazel eyes. They were about of a size, and the Lady Caroline Darlington was as exquisitely dressed as her sister in a cream-colored gown with a triple flounce on the skirt embroidered in deep green to match the deep green sash. She wore a charming green bonnet on her shining curls and presented a most appealing picture, laughing with Lydia and Sir Anthony Haring.
Angelica was rather surprised to see Sir Anthony among the guests, but imagined he was lending them escort. She took little part in the ensuing discussion, responding politely when the countess included her in her remarks but initiating no conversation herself.
Without appearing to do so, she was observing Lady Barbara and the viscount with no little surprise. On the previous two occasions that the betrothed couple had been together in her presence, Angelica could only have described Barbara’s demeanour toward the viscount as careless. Today, that term would have been extraordinarily inappropriate. Indeed, the sparkling brunette was almost hovering over her injured fiancé, urging him to try the delicious plum cake and pouring more sherry into his glass herself. Glancing at Lydia, Angelica had to stifle a smile at that young lady’s eloquently raised eyebrow. Having once settled Jenny at her side, Lady Barbara had apparently forgotten her presence. She had eyes for no one else in the room; all her attention was upon her fiancé.
The object of these caressing attentions appeared to be singularly unmoved by such tender ministrations. The lady’s intimate smiles were met by bland, cynical quirks of the gentleman’s lips, while mocking amusement stared out of his eyes.
Angelica, observing the scene in some surprise, felt a flash of sympathy for Lady Barbara. If Giles were her fiancé and looked at her in such a fashion, she would be sorely tempted to kick him. Lady Barbara, however, seemed to find nothing amiss and did not lessen her efforts to entertain the viscount. She did glance briefly about the room once or twice, but always her attention came back to the man sitting beside her.
On one such occasion, Angelica followed the direction of Barbara’s brief glance and her eyes lit on Sir Anthony and lingered, widening with shock. The other three women were gossiping together, and Sir Anthony, ignored for the moment, was gazing at Lady Barbara with a sad, hungry look in his blue eyes and a white line around his tightly compressed lips. Why, he’s in love with her, Angelica realized with one of those uncomfortable insights. Her hand rose unconsciously to her throat. She tore her glance from the silently suffering Sir Anthony and turned it toward the viscount, surprising an intent regard directed at herself.
It was the first time he had looked at her since she had entered the room, and the old mocking gleam was clearly apparent in the instant before she lowered her lashes in self-protection. She could not know whether he too had discovered Sir Anthony’s secret, but she was desperately determined to conceal her own. Obviously by ignoring her, he sought to correct any false notions she might have entertained following his impetuous declaration the previous evening that he thought her hair beautiful. If she had been so foolish as to read anything personal into the compliment, it would not have been his words so much as the intensity and reluctance with which they had been uttered — as if they had been coerced out of him — that would have been responsible.
But Angelica was not a girl to cherish romantic illusions, and while it would be useless to deny that his words had given her intense pleasure at the time, she did not require subsequent coldness on his part to convince her that they were but the quickly regretted impulse of the moment. They had enjoyed a very companionable evening, and perhaps in the flickering light of several candles she h
ad suddenly reminded him of his dead wife, who had been extremely fair. Whatever the explanation, she had taken a resolve never to allude to it even in her thoughts and to avoid being alone with her employer in the future.
For the first time this day, someone else’s concerns had driven her own problems from her conscious mind. She wondered if Lady Barbara was aware that Sir Anthony felt a strong tendre for her. The suspicion that she did know and was trying to make him jealous by devoting herself to her fiancé occurred to her only to be dismissed as nonsensical. After all, Barbara had been engaged to the viscount before Sir Anthony even met her. There was no contest: the prize had already been won. It might have been understandable if a girl with Barbara’s desire to be courted had engaged in a light flirtation with another man to rouse jealousy in a rather cool fiancé, but nothing else made sense.
She was roused from her reverie by the entrance of Lord Robert Hoxley. His easy manners and genuine friendliness made him a favourite everywhere, and he was greeted with pleasure. After accepting a glass of sherry from Lydia, who dimpled under his teasing praise of her abilities as hostess, he smilingly seated himself near Angelica. She returned his smile warmly.