by Diane Farr
Horrified, Elizabeth sank into a chair and gripped her fingers in her lap, thinking swiftly. Her mother must have seen Richard with someone tonight. She dreaded knowing the girl’s identity, but only one name leaped to mind. “Miss Campbell,” she whispered numbly.
“From your description of her, I believe so. A tall girl, red-haired. Not uncomely, I regret to say.”
“But he would never jilt me! It is impossible!”
Her mother waved a hand in impatient dismissal. “Of course it is impossible! He is a gentleman, after all, so naturally his hands are tied. Were he tempted to do anything so outrageous, the thought of how such a scandal must affect his family—why, everyone would cut his acquaintance, and I daresay the unpleasantness would extend to his mother and sister—oh, no! It is indeed impossible. Were you the veriest Nobody, it would be dreadful. Since you are who you are, it is utterly unthinkable.”
The duchess rose gracefully, her dressing gown billowing, and laid a manicured hand on her daughter’s tense shoulder. “I merely warn you, Elizabeth, so that you may be a little more conciliating. I greatly fear that you are vexing him by continually setting up your opinions in opposition to his—and pray do not waste my time telling me you have not done so! He cannot jilt you, but he may seek to convince you to cry off. It would not astonish me to learn that his recent neglect of you has been part of such an attempt. Take care! You are five-and-twenty, Elizabeth. If you break this engagement, you will wear the willow all your days.”
Elizabeth’s hands clenched tightly. A terrifying vista opened before her imagination: endless years of spinsterhood; jokes made at her expense; herself and her noble family the objects of pity, ridicule, and scorn; whispers, gossip, scandal! She took a deep and shaky breath, fighting to control the sickening rage that swept through her. It must not be!
She lifted her chin and met her mother’s level gaze. Two pairs of ice blue eyes, exactly like each other, locked in perfect understanding. “I am very much obliged to you, Mother,” said Elizabeth steadily.
The duchess inclined her head briefly, satisfied with the outcome of the interview. She gave Elizabeth’s shoulder an approving pat and returned to her dressing table. Elizabeth curtsied deeply to her mother and exited, closing the door softly behind her.
Her Grace’s lips curved slightly as she unpinned her hair. Elizabeth was hot-tempered, but she was not stupid. There would be no breath of scandal attached to the illustrious name of Delacourt. And the matrimonial ambitions of Elizabeth and her mama would be achieved before the year was out.
Chapter XVI
Caitlin drifted awake on Thursday morning with a dreamy sense of well-being. Her eyes still closed, she smiled and stretched, catlike, against the feather pillows. Jane was tiptoeing about the dim room, but when she perceived these signs of life she set down her tray with a clatter.
“There, now! I didn’t hardly like to wake you, but your chocolate’s hot as hot, miss. Seein’ as you’re up, you can drink it right off.”
“Morning, Jane,” murmured Caitlin sleepily.
“And it’s a lovely morning, miss!” chirped Jane, crossing briskly to the windows. She pulled back the heavy curtains and flooded the room with light. Caitlin blinked, and instantly came wide awake. As consciousness rushed back, so did memory. The effect was much the same as if Jane had dashed the chocolate in her face.
“Good God!” she cried, sitting bolt upright.
“Miss?”
Caitlin pressed her hands over her eyes, trying to think. Jane clucked her tongue worriedly and pulled the drapes halfway back across the windows. “Oh, I’m sorry, miss! So thoughtless of me! I didn’t mean to hurt your eyes.”
“What?” Caitlin pulled her hands away and tried to smile. “Oh! Never mind, Jane, it’s quite all right.” She sank back into her pillows and stared at the canopy over her bed, her thoughts once again in turmoil. Jane clucked and puttered about for a few minutes more, but finally left Caitlin to her own musings.
These were not comfortable. Her mind seemed to have divided neatly in two, and the two halves were arguing hotly.
What have you done! cried one half.
I had the most wonderful evening of my life! replied the other.
Caitlin groaned and buried her face in her pillow. It had been a wonderful evening. She smiled mistily as she remembered waltzing with Richard Kilverton—twice!—and the precious hour they had spent talking about everything under the sun, untasted glasses, of punch clutched, forgotten, in their hands. She shivered with happiness when she recalled his voice, his touch, the expression in his eyes when he looked at her, the halcyon moments when she had been sure of his regard. Wonderful, magical, beyond anything. An evening she would remember always.
Unfortunately, however, Ruin now stared her in the face. She would have to cling to the memory of that evening, for there would certainly be no others.
“I must have been mad!” Caitlin whispered into her pillow. How could she have exposed herself so shamelessly? As well tie her garter in public! Her cheeks burned as she recalled lecturing poor Serena on the rashness of wearing one’s heart on one’s sleeve. Excellent advice! Well for Caitlin to have followed it! Instead, she had spent almost an entire evening sitting in Kilverton’s pocket—a man whom everyone knew to be betrothed to Lady Elizabeth Delacourt. And to make such a figure of herself at Almack’s! Almack’s, of all the places she could have chosen!
Caitlin writhed, punching her pillow impotently and calling herself every name she could think of. The tale would be all over town by noon. She could count herself fortunate if no veiled references to “Lord K. and Miss C.” appeared in the gossip columns. Now, there was a thought to make one’s blood run cold.
Perhaps the columnists would not dare to offend the powerful Delacourts. She clung to that idea hopefully, until if occurred to her that the press had no hesitation in blackening the names of various members of the royal family. Even the Regent himself received his share of rumor and criticism. If was better to trust to her own obscurity, rather than Kilverton’s and Lady Elizabeth’s prominence, to safeguard them all from the columnists. The foibles of a mere Miss Campbell might be deemed unworthy of interest.
But nothing, she realized, could save her from the beau monde’s rumor mills. If her infatuation with Lord Kilverton had been noticed last night, social ostracism would surely follow. Did she dare to hope that no one had noticed? Or, if they had, could she somehow pass it off as an evening’s harmless flirtation?
“Idiot!” she told herself. “There’s no such thing as a harmless flirtation with a man who is engaged to be married!” No, she must only hope that somehow her behavior had gone unremarked. A rather forlorn hope, she was sure. Especially since (and she could not resist smiling at the memory) Lord Kilverton’s behavior had been equally at fault.
Equally at fault? Why, he was more at fault than she! Caitlin sat upright as indignation suddenly seized her. What did he mean by it? As usual (she reminded herself), his behavior toward her had been most ungentlemanly. Exposing her to spiteful gossip by gazing at her like a moonstruck calf! Remaining at her side virtually the entire evening! Waltzing with her—twice!—when his own sister had already confided to Caitlin that tongues wagged the instant Lord Kilverton waltzed with anyone!
Of course, in fairness, Serena had been referring to the days prior to his engagement. Now that he was betrothed, surely people would not be watching his dance partners with the same keen speculation. No—unless, of course, he waltzed! Once a man was engaged, dancing the waltz with someone other than his fiancée was probably improper; Caitlin wasn’t sure. It had certainly felt improper. In fact, it had felt delicious. Anything so excessively pleasurable had to be wrong. If only she had danced country dances with him instead!
The misty smile returned, unbidden. She was glad they had waltzed. May heaven forgive her! She was very glad they had waltzed! She closed her eyes and hugged her knees, imagining she could still feel his arm around her waist, feel his hand cla
sping hers.
She had forgotten everything when he touched her: their circumstances, their surroundings, the hopelessness of the situation.
She had been aware of nothing but his touch, his eyes, his face so close to hers. In the steps of the waltz, the room had whirled out of focus and left her clinging to him as the only stationary object in a tilting, shifting world. She knew he had felt the same. Oh, she knew it.
The sweet music still ran in her mind. Tears stung the back of her eyelids. It was, no doubt, a memory she would carry to her grave. She was seized with a sudden, savage wish that she could remember the feel of his lips on hers with such clarity. The wantonness of such a wish shocked her, but Caitlin was an honest person. And, to be honest, she wished it with all her heart. The encounter in Curzon Street—and last night’s waltzes—would doubtless be her only contact with her only love.
Oh, what to do? What to do? There was no help for it. She must strictly hide her unruly emotions in future, and see if she could brazen this situation out. After all, her public conduct had been hardly less shocking the night she ran away from a very exclusive party unescorted. She had survived that fiasco, thanks to Lady Serena’s staunch friendship. Perhaps she would survive this as well. Hope stirred faintly.
She would attend Lady Selcroft’s soiree this evening, as planned. She would dress with great care—as modestly as she could, within the dictates of fashion. She would appear completely unconcerned. She would treat Lady Selcroft and Serena with affection, Lord Kilverton with civility, and Lady Elizabeth with as much friendliness as she could. She would present herself in the harmless guise of a “friend of the family.” And if she could carry it off, it might silence any gossiping tongues.
Thank God she did not have to worry any longer about her own foolishness ruining Emily’s chances. Philip Talgarth seemed too besotted to give the snap of his fingers for any faults that might be found in Emily’s family. Of course it was Emily’s and Aunt Harriet’s preoccupation with Captain Talgarth that had prevented them from curtailing Caitlin’s indiscretion last night. On the whole, Caitlin was grateful her aunt and sister had been so distracted.
Through the course of several morning visits that day, however, she was surprised—and deeply relieved—to learn that the hottest gossip apparently centered not on Lord Kilverton’s conduct at Almack’s, but his sister’s. Caitlin had steeled herself to meet with coldness, significant glances exchanged when she entered a room, or arch attempts to question her about the state of her affections—and instead she could discern only an eagerness to discover from her what she might know about the state of Lady Serena’s affections. In her preoccupation with her own behavior, Caitlin had forgotten Serena’s plan to flirt “outrageously” with Mr. Montague last night. Apparently she had achieved her ambition, and the gossips were already busy.
None of the talk seemed malicious. To Caitlin’s delight, people seemed, if anything, pleased and congratulatory in their speculations about Ned’s intentions. Mr. Montague and Lady Serena were both held in considerable affection by the ton. Miss Campbell was known to be Lady Serena’s friend, but no one seemed to hold it against Caitlin when she would only laugh and shake her head. Let people read into it what they may! thought Caitlin. Serena had not only stilled the rumors about her own feelings for Captain Talgarth, she had effectively drawn the gossips’ eyes away from Caitlin—bless her!
Nevertheless, Caitlin’s heart was beating uncomfortably fast when she stepped into Lady Selcroft’s drawing room that evening. She had carefully chosen to wear a creamy satin that draped beautifully, but with becoming modesty. Her hair was dressed high, and she carried an ivory fan chosen to match the ivory and pearl ornament in her hair and the pearls clasped round her throat. The effect was elegant, she hoped, but chaste. Tonight she must appear anything but fast!
The Delacourt party, and quite a crowd of other persons, was already present when Lady Lynwood and her nieces arrived. They found Lady Elizabeth standing stiffly near the fire, between Lord Kilverton and an imposing woman whom Caitlin guessed must be the Duchess of Arnsford. Elizabeth had also dressed with great care, Caitlin noticed. She looked extremely handsome—or would, if her expression were more amiable. She was wearing a beautiful color that looked magnificent on her: pale violet. Caitlin wondered nervously if Elizabeth had deliberately chosen a color that Caitlin could never wear.
Lady Selcroft soon drew Caitlin and Emily toward the fire to introduce them to the Duchess of Arnsford. Her Grace proved to be a dragon of a female with a piercing gaze and a hostile attitude. A few weeks ago, Caitlin thought, Emily would have been frightened into imbecility by the duchess. These days, however, Emily’s feet barely touched the ground. Mere social terrors could not reach the heights where Emily dwelled since meeting Captain Talgarth.
After bowing to the duchess, Caitlin shook hands with Lord Kilverton as briefly as possible. She did not dare to look him in the face as she did so, but turned immediately to seize Lady Elizabeth’s hand before Elizabeth could withdraw it.
“I am glad to see you tonight, Lady Elizabeth,” said Caitlin warmly. “I don’t believe we’ve met since the day of the driving party.”
Elizabeth bowed coldly, and pulled her hand away. Caitlin, trying not to read anything alarming into this chilly reception, pretended to notice nothing amiss. She summoned a smile, and tried again. “I hope you have been well?”
Lady Elizabeth’s upper lip lengthened with distaste, which flared her nostrils as if she had encountered an unpleasant odor. “I have been quite well. Miss Campbell.” she said repressively. She then lapsed into silence. It seemed she pointedly refrained from inquiring after Caitlin’s health.
Since Lady Elizabeth knew her to have been injured in the accident, Caitlin could not mistake the snub. Misery clutched at her heart, rendering her instantly tongue-tied. Was it possible that Elizabeth suspected Caitlin of cherishing improper feelings for her fiancé? What a fiasco that would be! Caitlin covered in shame, could neither speak nor move.
Relief came from an unexpected quarter. The Duchess of Arnsford had instantly perceived that Miss Campbell’s friendliness toward her daughter was an attempt to scotch any rumors that might have started. This was quite self-serving of Miss Campbell, of course, but it would also serve the ends of the Delacourts. The duchess was as anxious as Miss Campbell could be to squelch any gossip regarding her daughter’s engagement. If Elizabeth repulsed Miss Campbell’s advances it would confirm the suspicions of such as Lady Markham. The duchess was acutely aware of several glances being furtively cast at their group, and felt a twinge of annoyance. Really, Elizabeth had no notion how to proceed in matters requiring the least delicacy!
Her Grace stepped majestically into the breach, breaking the quelling silence that had fallen. “You refer, I believe, to the driving party wherein Lord Kilverton’s curricle sustained an accident,” announced the duchess, gently waving her fan. “How thankful I am that Elizabeth was spared! She might easily have been riding in the curricle, you know.”
Lord Kilverton’s voice entered quietly into the conversation. “It was due to Miss Campbell’s intervention that she was not, ma’am. Elizabeth had the headache that day, and Miss Campbell gave her her place in the barouche to spare Elizabeth any discomfort.” Kilverton offered the duchess a chilly smile. “I believe you were previously unaware of the debt you owe Miss Campbell.”
The duchess was greatly displeased. Impertinent! How dare he suggest that she owed Miss Campbell a debt? She glared at her future son-in-law. “Indeed! No, I had no idea. Certainly I had no idea.”
Caitlin saw the struggle it was costing the duchess to accept that she owed a debt of gratitude to her. It seemed very odd to Caitlin. Her Grace was clearly angry with Kilverton; why?
With a shock, Caitlin realized that Her Grace must have been present at Almack’s last night. Of course Her Grace had been there! Did I not meet her husband? she thought numbly. Had the duchess witnessed Caitlin and Lord Kilverton’s indiscretion?
Color flamed in Caitlin’s face. Even if others at Almack’s had failed to observe Kilverton’s attentions, naturally the duchess would notice something that concerned her so nearly! The realization rendered Caitlin even more acutely miserable. She hoped devoutly that nothing had been said to Elizabeth. But when she stole a glance at her, Caitlin’s heart sank further. Elizabeth had turned quite white, save for two spots of color high on her cheeks, and her eyes glittered like blue ice. This was dreadful. More than dreadful; it was catastrophic. Caitlin hurried into speech.
“Pray do not regard it—really, ma’am, I beg you will not give it another thought!” she stammered, deeply embarrassed. “It was all completely accidental—no one foresaw—no one imagined that anything so unlucky would occur.”
Caitlin herself did not know whether she was speaking of the curricle accident or her feelings for Lord Kilverton. Really, it hardly mattered! The disclaimer would do for both.
Chapter XVII
Lady Selcroft was a notable hostess, and her spacious rooms filled rapidly with a glittering throng of fashionables. The musicians she had hired for the occasion struck up, refreshment tables were set out, and the evening progressed flawlessly. Caitlin, however, was not in a mood to appreciate the perfection of Lady Selcroft’s preparations.
It seemed that Lord Kilverton was willing to join her in attempting to undo whatever damage they had done at Almack’s. At any rate, he assiduously stayed away from her. Odd that she did not find this a relief. In fact, she had to repeatedly remind herself how glad she was that Lord Kilverton had taken her hint and was following her example. Gladness did not seem to be prominent among her emotions when she found herself carefully excluded from his company.
