“So, it is you,” she said. The lines around her mouth deepened as she pursed her lips.
Joya’s heart clinched. Trevor tightened his hand on her arm. She decided that having to perform in front of Adelaide made her more nervous than the idea that she was about to meet Queen Victoria.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Trevor whispered, “Stay calm. Watch the other women. You will be just fine.”
“That’s what Sims told me to do.” She felt for her amulet pouch through the many layers of clothing and for the moment felt safe. Her mother’s comb was inside the small pouch. If Clara did know that she was here, what must she be thinking of her daughter who was about to meet the queen?
Joya swallowed. It was too late to turn back now.
* * *
“You are breaking my heart, Janelle,” Garr said.
“I am about to break your head.”
“I can’t properly propose if you don’t give me your hand. Please, have some pity on me. My knee is killing me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Get up off the floor and behave yourself.” She had scooted as far into the corner of the seat as she could.
“Not until you accept.”
“Why on earth would I accept a proposal from you, of all people?”
His smile was devastating. “Because you have never had a more exciting offer, I can guarantee you that.”
“I have turned down suitors one hundred times more worthy. Besides, you are not even a suitor. I was actually beginning to think that you were my friend.”
Earlier that afternoon she had found herself hoping at least that much was true, that they really could be friends, for she truly enjoyed his company and his easy banter. Right now, though, she could hardly think of anything clearly with Garr on the carriage floor staring up at her.
“What better reason to marry than friendship?”
Janelle thought of Joya and Trevor and of the uncontrollable desire that had brought them together. Hunger for one another had been the catalyst behind their marriage—and where had desire gotten them?
Garr took her hand before she could stop him, then rose to make a place for himself on the seat beside her.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“What of love?” She said it before she could stop herself.
“Ah. Love. Is that what you are looking for in a husband?”
“I’m not even looking for a husband, especially a fortune-hunting rake.”
He leaned closer, until their shoulders barely touched. Rain beat down like a hoard of wild Saxons dancing atop the roof of the carriage. It was almost completely dark now. The pungent scent of the rain-soaked, newly plowed fields filled the air.
“Would you marry me if you loved me?” He leaned so close she could feel his warmth all along her side.
“No.” It was unimaginable. If she loved him he would have the power to break her heart.
“I think you might already love me,” he whispered.
“Think again, Garr.”
“Shall we find out if there is any hope?”
Before she knew what he was about, his lips touched hers. They were warm and sensual, surprisingly soft. She put her hands on his shoulders, on the fine forest-green wool of his well-tailored coat, intent on pushing him away—until she felt his tongue slide over her lips.
Something deep inside her fluttered, tugged at her, and then unfurled. She shivered and waited to see what might happen next.
He urged her gently, teasing her with his tongue until she opened to him and allowed him to deepen the kiss. She could feel his tongue moving against hers, something so heady, so delicious that she went weak and light-headed all at once. A soft, throaty moan escaped her without warning.
Garr slipped his arms around her, pressing her to him. He whispered, “Your heart is beating—”
“I hope so, else I would be dead.” She wondered whether one could die of such glorious feelings.
“If you had let me finish, you would know I was about to say that your heart is beating like the wings of a caged dove.”
“Is that what you say to all the young women you seduce in the dark in broken-down carriages?”
“Only half of them.”
“What do you say to the other half?”
“‘Your heart is beating like the wings of a trembling butterfly.’”
“I prefer the dove reference.”
He reached up and slipped off her spectacles, carefully folded the stems, and pocketed them.
“Let me kiss you again, Janelle.”
She sighed, knowing she was already lost.
So he kissed her again. And again. Long, slow, luxurious kisses that did nothing to quench the thirst building inside her. He asked permission to touch her breast. She thanked heaven it was dark so that he would not see her cheeks flame when she said yes. Gently he cupped her; tenderly he massaged her breasts but did not attempt to remove her jacket, nor did he even try to slip his hand beneath the fabric.
Janelle closed her eyes, wanting to tell him to stop, unable to even think of the word. He kissed her again as his hands worked their magic on her, caressing her breasts, touching her cheek, her hair. She was lost and she knew it. In one tiny corner of her mind she was thinking, so this is the desire Joya tried to describe. This is what brought my sister and Trevor to such an unhappy conclusion. She understood at last, but even that newfound understanding could not temper her own response to Garr.
Suddenly, it was Garr and not she who put an end to their lovemaking. She had wanted it to go on and on forever.
She was breathless. Her hair had come loose. A long, heavy strand was hanging alongside her cheek. Melted butter had more substance than she right now. If he wanted more, she could not resist.
“I do not want a quick tumble in a carriage from you, Janelle. I want a lifetime. I will not take you this way, although I know good and well that you would let me. I want you to be my wife.”
Oh, this is rich, she thought. The man was holding back favors until she agreed to marry him.
He looped her wayward curl around his finger, used it to draw her to him, kissed her lightly once, twice, thrice. Then he let go of her hair and moved back across the carriage. Once more, he leaned back, stretched out, folded his arms, and crossed his ankles.
She felt cold without him, almost bereft. There was not a sound but their breathing inside the carriage. His was calm and steady; hers ragged, uneven, desperate.
It was too dark to see Garr clearly, but she could still make out his brilliant, triumphant smile.
“Well, Miss Mandeville, what will it be?”
* * *
It was nearly Trevor and Joya’s turn to be introduced to the queen. In a moment, she thought, this will all be over. With a lump in her throat and fear in her heart, she waited, reminding herself over and over that the queen was only a woman, a sovereign of the British Empire, yes, but still a woman, flesh and blood. A mother. A wife. There was nothing to fear.
A mere introduction could not be half as difficult as hacking a trail through the steaming jungle to get over Mount Kibatante.
The couple before them bowed and curtsied, and then it was Adelaide’s turn. Joya watched Adelaide curtsy, and then Trevor made a polite bow, and then she found herself standing face to face with Queen Victoria.
She executed a low, perfectly acceptable curtsy. Then the queen spoke directly to her.
“Mrs. Mandeville, We have heard that you were raised in Africa.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
It did not do much for her already jumbled nerves to realize that everyone in the room was watching and trying to hear the exchange. Victoria had not taken the time to actually converse with more than a handful of Orchid Society members as they passed through the long reception line.
“What is your opinion of London, now that you are here?”
“What do I think about it, do you mean?”
The queen nodded. She was far younger-loo
king than Joya had imagined and she seemed so very, sincerely interested that Joya thought surely it would be all right to be perfectly honest with Her Majesty.
“I think there are too many rules.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd. The queen raised her head and glanced around sternly, and a hush immediately fell over the room.
Out of the corner of her eye, Joya saw Trevor move closer and she smiled. For some reason, the queen seemed very, very interested now. Perhaps Adelaide would finally have something to be pleased about. Trevor might have been obliged to marry her, but tonight she would do the Mandeville name proud.
“Which of Our rules would you have done away with, Mrs. Mandeville?” The queen was attentively awaiting a response.
Joya took a deep breath. “Well, most definitely the one that obliges a man to marry a woman when they break Rule Number One. I believe Rule Number Two is far too rigid also.”
“I don’t believe We are familiar with Rule Number One or Rule Number Two.”
Joya found it odd that the queen did not know her country’s social strictures by heart.
Trevor bowed slightly. “Your Majesty, if I may—”
“You may not,” the queen said. “Please, enlighten Us as to Rule Number One and Rule Number Two, Mrs. Mandeville.”
Joya smiled and looked around. Since everyone appeared so intent upon listening, she spoke louder.
“Rule Number One is never be alone with a man who is not your husband, and Rule Number Two is always wear enough clothes for modesty’s sake. Cover yourself from head to toe.”
Joya feared Her Majesty was growing overly warm in the crowded room. The queen’s face had reddened considerably.
“Why would you have Us do away with these two particular rules?”
“Rule Number One is too easily broken, especially when one is overcome with desire, which is a very unpredictable thing, Your Majesty, as surely you know, seeing as how you already have seven children. And as for Rule Number Two—” Joya raised her arm and indicated her gown’s heavy train. “I think wearing too many clothes is very unnatural. If it had not been for my mother and father, I would have been half naked when Trevor found me.”
Joya waited politely for the queen to respond. There was not a sound in the room. She wanted to smile up at Trevor, but did not wish to offend the queen by looking away. Nor did she want the others to think she was gloating over her good fortune.
“Most enlightening. Mrs. Mandeville.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Joya curtsied again. The queen was looking very thoughtful, but Joya suspected Her Majesty smiled very little. No doubt the business of running an empire and seeing to so many children was not easy. She had seen enough on her sojourns through the streets of London to know there was much work to be done here.
Trevor touched her arm, signaling her that their time was done. Although she would have liked to discuss other English customs with the queen, she did not want to monopolize Her Majesty’s time.
She and Trevor moved on briefly to Prince Albert, who encouraged Trevor in his hunt for the queen’s orchid. Joya smiled up at Trevor. He appeared to be clenching his jaw.
“Are you all right?” she asked, thinking perhaps he had been as nervous as she.
He nodded absently, scanning the room. There was a hard look in his eye, as if he were braced for a fight.
“Oh, Trevor, I will never forget this night,” she told him.
“I doubt anyone who is here ever will either.”
She smiled at Lord Godfrey Howard and his wife, one of the couples she had met earlier. Lady Howard turned her back. Lord Howard frowned, shrugged at Trevor as if to say, “I’m sorry, there is nothing I can do,” and turned away as well.
It was not until she had experienced the same reaction from three more couples that Joya realized no one was willing to acknowledge her. Looking around, she discovered that Adelaide had disappeared.
“Trevor?”
He was wearing the same fierce expression as he had on the night he had walked into her father’s orchid camp—fierce, daring, and very stubborn.
“Trevor, what is it? What have I done?”
“Nothing. You have done nothing, absolutely nothing, to be ashamed of.” When he looked down at her, cupped her cheek, and smiled, it nearly broke her heart. “You are one of a kind, Joya. No one will ever take that from you.”
Panic welled inside her. Despite his denial, she knew she had done or said something terribly wrong, something that had offended everyone in the room.
She tugged on his sleeve until he leaned close enough for her to whisper, “Are they upset because the queen chose to speak to me for so long?”
“Something like that.”
“Please, Trevor,” she begged, on the verge of tears and hating herself for such weakness. “Do not treat me like a child.”
“Lift your chin, Joya. Pretend you are facing down a horde of cutthroat pirates invading Matarenga.”
She scanned the room. Adelaide was still nowhere to be seen. No one was bothering to hide their displeasure, not even the Howards, who had been so charming to her earlier. Couples either cut her directly by turning around when she looked their way, or openly stared at her without hiding grim expressions.
She had done something quite terrible and Trevor, as her husband, was now obligated to defend her.
“No one will even acknowledge me. Why?”
He lowered his voice. “You were a bit indiscreet, is all, when you spoke of being half naked.”
Preoccupied with thinking of an excuse to exit the room, she decided to try to make him leave her side. “I’m thirsty,” she blurted.
“Then come with me to the refreshment table.”
“I…I need to go to the ladies’ salon. I will look for Adelaide.”
He put his hand beneath her chin and gently forced her to look up into his eyes. “Are you certain you’ll be all right alone?”
She smiled. “Of course. I will remember the pirates.”
“Good. Show these people what you are made of. I will meet you over there,” he pointed to a long buffet table. “I’ll be waiting for you with a glass of champagne.”
Joya stared up at him for as long as she dared.
“Do not be long,” he told her.
Without another word, she turned away. She had to escape before it was too late, before she was too blinded by tears to make her way through the room. The crowd parted. Couples stepped aside to let her pass as if the mere touch of her skirt might infect them with the plague.
The Secret
Chapter Twenty-five
Joya had no sooner escaped from the reception room when Adelaide grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alcove tucked into the long hall.
“You have ruined us!” Adelaide hissed.
A wave of nausea, brought on by nerves and the pungent scent of the older woman’s perfume, made Joya’s head swim. She could think of no response, giving Adelaide ample time to continue her tirade.
“You have ruined Trevor’s chances for a royal appointment, whether or not he finds the queen’s orchid.”
“I am sorry, I did not mean—”
“You should have never come here in the first place.”
When Adelaide moved closer, backing her against a window seat, Joya’s self-protective instincts took over. She stood her ground, squared her shoulders. “If you recall, I didn’t want to come tonight.”
“You should have told us that you and Janelle had switched places again. You should have stayed where you belonged, and I don’t mean at Mandeville House. I mean in Africa!”
Afraid someone would overhear, Joya lowered her voice. “I know that now, better than anyone.”
“Trevor has had to waste time coddling you ever since you arrived. At the very least, your sister should have been watching out for you, not Trevor, but Janelle has been too worried about furthering her own interests. Haven’t you noticed she has all but deserted you since you arr
ived?”
“She has her own life to live. I do not want to burden her,” Joya said, sincere in every word.
“Poor Trevor could have married someone worthy. With our money, he could have found a titled wife, someone who would have raised his social standing. Now, as long as he is bound to you, his chances are completely ruined. You are an embarrassment to the Mandeville name.”
Joya had had no notion that the old woman truly hated her so badly. No wonder Trevor had no belief in the magic of love or the power of it. She, who had been raised by two people with no blood ties to her at all, had fared far better than he—for she had grown up loved and cherished, not groomed to further someone else’s dreams.
Adelaide loved only two things, the Mandeville name and money. Trevor excused his grandmother because she had spent her youth fighting to keep the family business alive so that he could take it over. Being a man of honor, he believed he owed everything to his grandmother. She might have raised him, but Joya doubted that the woman had ever let Trevor see this embittered, angry side.
Joya knew that it was useless to try to defend herself. Besides, her own mind was already made up.
Life in London was as complicated as Trevor had warned her it would be. No matter how much she learned of Londoners and their ways, there would always be some new pitfall. She would never fit in here. It would be better for her to banish herself, the way an unworthy wife on Matarenga would be banished.
Trevor had done the honorable thing by marrying her.
Now she must do the right thing and give him his freedom.
Adelaide’s eyes had narrowed. She was watching Joya closely. “What little scheme are you concocting now? I suppose you are planning to run to Trevor and tell him everything I’ve just said.”
“You will not have to worry about my harming the Mandeville name again. I’m leaving London tonight. I’m going home.”
The smug, satisfied smile on Adelaide’s face was chilling.
The Orchid Hunter Page 25
