by Dorothy Mack
“Is that any bread and butter of yours?”
Coralee shrugged. “No, but you must know there’s no point to it. Uncle Ernest would never allow you to marry Malcolm, and you could lose your rich suitor if you keep this up.”
“I repeat, what concern is it of yours?”
“None at all,” Coralee replied airily, rising to her feet. “I merely thought to do you a good turn by warning you of what could happen if you persist in acting the fool.”
“Do me a good turn?” echoed Gemma, stung into dropping her aloof pose. “When did you ever do anyone a good turn? It’s my belief that you are simply annoyed to see one of your court desert you. You’ll have to accustom yourself to receiving the attentions of only one man after you and George are married, you know.”
Coralee looked back at her cousin without batting an eyelash. “I have no intention of marrying George Godwin,” she stated calmly.
CHAPTER 16
Quietly, carefully, Lady Gemma Monteith closed her bedroom door and turned to confront the girl watching her with a secretive little smile on her lovely face.
“Would you repeat what you just said?” she requested politely.
“Certainly. I said I have no intention of marrying George Godwin. Why should you imagine I’d throw myself away on the younger son of a mere country squire? I may not have a title now, but like you, I am the granddaughter of a duke, and with my dowry and my face I can look as high as I please for a husband.”
Still carefully polite, Gemma asked, “Do you mean you are not in love with George?”
“How you do harp on George,” mocked Coralee. “Yes, I do mean I am not in love with George.”
“Then what were you doing kissing him in the little temple?” blurted her cousin.
For the first time Coralee looked disconcerted. “What can you mean?” she stalled.
“I saw you, and so did John Delevan, and since Lucy was painting on the other side of the temple, it is entirely possible that she saw you too.”
Her cousin had recovered her countenance by now. “Well, if you must know,” she replied with obvious reluctance, examining her fingernails closely, “George has asked me to marry him, but I wasn’t sure at the time. Now I am sure.”
Gemma expelled a pent-up breath. “You’ve been playing with his affections. You led him on with no intention of accepting him, probably just to spite me. I think you are despicable!”
Although the colour in her cheeks heightened under the scorn flashing from Gemma’s dark eyes, Coralee’s glance didn’t waver. “You are terribly concerned about your precious George,” she sneered. “What has he been doing but playing with your affections? You two were as good as promised two years ago, but he offered for me barely a month after his return.”
“If you cannot see the difference, I shan’t waste my breath trying to explain it to you. Besides,” added Gemma, yielding to the prompting of a baser self, “as you have just pointed out, you are the better business proposition.”
This shaft went home with a vengeance.
“George Godwin is in love with me and you know it!” stormed her cousin, brushing past the smaller girl to pull open the door. On the threshold, she paused. “But perhaps I’d prefer John Delevan, after all. He at least stands in no need of a wealthy bride.”
On this threat she departed, leaving her cousin too shaken for the moment to appreciate that she had had the better of an altercation for the first time in a lifetime of antagonistic dealings with Coralee. She tottered over to her bed and slumped onto it, still finding it difficult to believe what had just transpired.
It was not that she had ever had any illusions about Coralee, but to realize that her cousin had deliberately enticed George for the sole purpose of spiting her and with no concern for his feelings gave her a sick shaky sensation in her stomach. She could only pray that her attraction for him was a blind infatuation rather than a deeply felt love, but whichever it turned out to be, he was going to be hurt when Coralee finally gave him her answer. It hurt to be rejected even if one’s love had no more substance than a young girl’s romantic dream, as she had found to her cost just lately.
By the time her maid came in to help her dress for dinner, Gemma had dismissed the situation between George and Coralee from her mind in favour of brooding over her own heartache. She felt she had taken the only decision possible under the circumstances, but it was proving so much more difficult than she could have anticipated to renounce what she desperately desired. Not much more than twenty-four hours had passed since her path had become clear, and she had never been so unhappy in her life, not even when George’s preference for her cousin had first become apparent. The pain of that had been real enough, but even at its most acute she had recognized the element of hurt pride involved in his choice of her abominable cousin over herself. She now knew it was infinitely more painful to refrain from seizing what was in one’s grasp for selfless reasons than to be cheated out of something by an outside force.
It became manifest to all before the evening was fairly launched that the cousins were at outs again. Coralee spent the dinner hour exerting herself to charm Mr. Delevan under the smouldering eyes of Lady Gemma. John could have thrown his arms around young Peter’s neck when the latter proposed a game of billiards after dinner in a timely rescue operation.
Miss Fairmont’s sudden and inexplicable preference for his society became even more of an embarrassment on the following day.
“Persistence, thy name is woman,” he muttered to himself as he slipped into the library on spotting a drift of blue coming down the stairs in mid-afternoon. Coralee had been wearing blue at lunch, and he did not require a reminder of the fate of one who hesitates. It was always a pleasure to look at her, and he found her company amusing in regulated doses, but just lately he had come to appreciate all the sensations of the fox in the hunt. If Gemma had made the least attempt to enter the mysterious competition for his attention, he might have regarded himself as one of the favourites of fortune, but she continued to give him the cold shoulder while making her unfavourable opinion of her cousin’s tactics quite evident. In fact, it must be acknowledged that his uncooperative little love was conducting herself in a manner strongly reminiscent of that of the fabled dog in the manger. He could only hope these present unaccountable patterns of behaviour would become intelligible in the fullness of time.
Meanwhile, he had every intention of burying himself in the library with a soothing book until teatime. He even took the precaution of turning a large winged-back chair away from the door so that he would not be visible to anyone glancing in. It would be a simple enough matter to pretend he had dozed off should anyone follow his or her voice all the way into the room. Perhaps they would be fortunate enough to receive a number of callers later this afternoon. The larger the crowd, the better from his point of view.
Unfortunately from several points of view, the afternoon brought only two visitors, Captain Godwin and his brother. At another moment, Lucy would have enjoyed Miss Fairmont’s dilemma as she endeavoured to keep two men in thrall without obviously favouring either, but her own disappointment at not seeing Lord Oliver had affected her sense of humour. The unwelcome spectacle of Gemma again monopolizing Mr. Malcolm Godwin’s attentions also failed to touch a humorous chord; in fact, it strengthened Lucy’s determination to get to the bottom of the strange reversals that had occurred since the ball.
Accordingly, as the guests were taking their leave, she slipped a hand under her friend’s arm and steered her over to the French doors and out onto the terrace. “Come with me. We are going to have a little talk.”
“What do you wish to talk about?”
“My brother, but it is my intention that you will talk and I shall listen and learn.”
“What can I teach you about your brother?” asked Gemma with an uncertain little laugh.
“You can tell me what John has done to offend you and forfeit your friendship,” the other replied, refusing to be diverted.
“Nothing! Of course John has done nothing to offend me!”
Gemma was staring down at her pink sandal that was tracing the joints in the flagstone terrace, and now Lucy said compellingly, “Look at me, Gemma.” When the younger girl had complied with discernible reluctance, she went on, “What has happened that has made you so cold toward John since the ball? What has he done?” Grey eyes searched brown ones that looked shamed and unhappy.
“Nothing. I told you.”
“Then why are you flirting outrageously with Malcolm Godwin and treating John like a pariah?”
“Believe me, Lucy, it is for John’s sake that I am doing it.”
Lucy blinked at this earnest claim and paused to adjust her thinking. At last she ventured, “Do you think you could tell me how flirting with Mr. Godwin and treating John with coldness can be considered to be for his benefit? I confess I don’t see it.”
Gemma held her friend’s gaze and said seriously, “If I tell you what I am about, you must promise me not to breathe a syllable of it to John or anyone. Do I have your solemn promise?”
“You have,” agreed Lucy after a slight pause.
“I am hoping John will believe I have formed an attachment for Malcolm so he will not feel it is his duty to offer for me.”
“His duty! What can you mean?”
Gemma searched her friend’s uncomprehending face. “Did you not know that John came here for the express purpose of making me an offer? Our fathers arranged it in London.”
Lucy stared. “I … I cannot… Are you certain of this?”
“My mother told me the day you arrived that Papa was determined I should marry John.” She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips to moisten them and swallowed before continuing. “I had considered myself pledged to George, and I told John this the very next day. He was most understanding and promised not to pursue the suit. You must have noticed that George … that George is very taken with Coralee.” Here the small chin lifted to a determined angle as she finished with a rush. “Well, he has asked her to marry him. She says she will refuse, but that doesn’t make a particle of difference. Can’t you see that I must free John from any obligation he may think he has to save my face by offering for me?”
This amazing story had succeeded in robbing Lucy of all power of expression, even of coherent thought for a time. Her initial reaction had been to protest that her brother would never have agreed to such a coldly arranged marriage, but Gemma said she had actually confronted John about it. She said he had been most understanding. Understanding!
Lucy choked back an hysterical desire to laugh and dropped limply onto the wrought-iron seat behind her. Gemma’s behaviour over the last couple of days was now explained, at least partially, she thought as her eyes roved her friend’s doleful countenance. She was clearly unhappy, but was it at losing George or, as Lucy was beginning to suspect, because of the role she had set herself to play with respect to John? With an idea of clearing up the mystery, she pursued the second of Gemma’s revelations.
“Did you say that George had offered for Coralee and she intends to refuse him? Did she tell you this?”
“Yes, because I had already guessed — about the offer, I mean.”
“So you did see them in the temple? I thought you must have done.”
Gemma nodded. “John and I had gone down to look for you.”
“Did she also confide why she plans to refuse him?”
Sparks flew from soft brown eyes and scorn hardened her voice as Gemma burst out, “She said she has no intention of throwing herself away on a second son. She wants a brilliant match and a title. It was all a deliberate plot to lure George away from me! Coralee has always tried to take everything I ever valued for her own, but this is beyond anything, to tamper with a man’s feelings!”
“It is the outside of enough,” agreed Lucy dispassionately. “Poor George. I must tell you that your cousin is something quite exceptional in my experience. I’ll back her to capture her titled prize too. Do you still want George?” she inquired, fixing her friend with a rapier look that belied the casual tones.
“Good heavens, no,” cried the dark-haired girl. “Would you, under the circumstances?”
“If I still loved him — after he had recovered from his broken heart, of course.”
A faint flush had mantled Gemma’s cheeks, and she answered in a rather defensive fashion. “Well, I don’t still love him. I think now that I never did really, but it was exciting to be in love with a brave soldier going off into danger, and he is so handsome and persuasive. Since he has returned, I have discovered that it is almost a passion with him to attach every attractive female in the room, not that he means anything improper by it. He has a great deal of natural charm and genuinely likes feminine company, but I am persuaded this would be an uncomfortable trait in a husband,” she finished with a quaint air of discovery.
Lucy preserved her countenance with difficulty. It would indeed be an uncomfortable trait in a husband! She shot a glance at her friend’s brooding face. Was Gemma dwelling on what living with just such a trait had done to her own mother over the years? She hastened to give her thoughts a new direction.
“Why is Coralee now pursuing John? He hasn’t a title, and I do not think he could be described as a brilliant match.”
“She is doing it to spite me. She is nothing but a jealous cat.”
“Agreed, but how could it spite you?” Lucy asked in feigned innocence. “Does she know about our fathers’ scheme?”
“I don’t know. She may have guessed.”
“Hmmmmm,” Lucy murmured thoughtfully, and rose from the iron seat. She concentrated on shaking the creases out of her skirts as she went on, “Are you forming an attachment for Malcolm Godwin?”
“No, of course not. I explained that.”
“It is my impression that John is rather unhappy over your treatment of him. And if Mr. Godwin should believe you to be serious, I should think Miss Biddlesford might be rather unhappy about it too, not to mention Mr. Godwin himself, if he should actually chance his luck with you.”
For a moment Gemma looked almost haunted at these new problems, but her chin firmed and she repeated obstinately, “What I am doing is for the best. If John believes me to be falling in love with Malcolm, perhaps he will leave quite soon, then I may stop encouraging Malcolm and Letty Biddlesford need never know anything about it.”
“Is that what you would like?” pursued her friend relentlessly.
“Yes.” Gemma’s tones were decided. “And remember, you have promised you will tell no one of this conversation.”
Lucy was thinking of her promise with regret the next morning as she examined her brother across the writing table in the big library, where she had come to pen their weekly letter to their father. John was smiling at her as he dictated a message for their parent, but it was a mechanical effort and she looked in vain for the lurking twinkle that generally dwelled in his blue eyes. She knew in her heart that his placid exterior concealed a very real wound dealt him by her misguided friend. She might have overcome the inherent delicacy that would keep a younger sister from delving into her brother’s affairs of the heart had it not been for that pernicious promise Gemma had extracted from her before she knew how senseless it was. She had devoted a good portion of a nearly sleepless night to the problem of Gemma and John without coming up with any helpful contribution she might make, chained as she was by her pledge of silence.
The night’s ratiocinations had produced theories, however, which she was nearly confident enough to call conclusions. It still strained her credulity that John had apparently agreed to a marriage with a girl he had never seen, but putting aside this stumbling block, the one fact that kept resurfacing was that her brother had remained in Wiltshire for over a month in the constant company of the girl who had warned him at the first opportunity that she was promised to another man. What reason other than love for Gemma could have induced him to remain for so long a period under such
unpromising circumstances? The claims of civility could have been satisfied in a sennight or less. The pressures of work could have been advanced at any time to excuse his departure.
Lucy was within ames ace of taking her oath that John was in love; her convictions were not quite so firm with regard to Gemma’s feelings. The duke’s daughter was a tender-hearted girl who might think this the best method of staving off a proposal, if she feared he was in danger of falling in love with her. On the other hand, her present ridiculous behaviour might be explained in quite another manner.
During the weeks of their visit, Gemma and John had become as thick as thieves. If she had recently discovered that it was really John she loved after all, might she not send him away if she feared his offer would be made only in the spirit in which the marriage had been arranged by their fathers? Would a girl seize the chance to marry the man she loved even if she knew her sentiments were not returned, or would pride step in and cause her to renounce the offer? Lucy simply could not decide. For herself, the question would be easy to resolve — she could not bear the thought of being married to a man who did not love her, but she accepted that this was not the case with every female. Many girls expected to marry men their parents selected for them without troubling themselves overmuch with questions of feelings.
Not Gemma, though! Lucy’s lips quirked as she recalled how quickly Gemma had warned John off in the beginning — the day after she met him, she had said. But that was not simply a case of refusing a man who did not love her but of believing herself already committed to someone who did.
It was no use; argument and counterargument revolved endlessly in her confused mind, and John was speaking to her again. He had wandered over to stare out of the window that faced the lake. Now he said over his shoulder, “I have been thinking that I should be getting back to my chambers soon. I have been away from my work a deal longer than I intended originally. Perhaps tomorrow or the next —”
