by Rue Allyn
“So you do remember?”
She merely smiled, and said, “I suppose such an apology, not to mention the kindness you showed after my accident, must make you pardonable.”
With an air of genuine relief, Thayne declared, “Fate has looked upon me favorably today. Let us be friends, indeed.”
She could not despise him after this tête-à-tête. In fact, with her opinion of him entirely altered, feeling that he was now both handsome and amiable, Rhianna was quite willing to, and already did, like him.
After this, there was nothing but to enjoy her time with Thayne Brighton. They danced, they laughed, and the leering eyes of Austine Leighart and Desmond Kingsley went almost wholly unnoticed.
At the end of their second dance, Thayne declared, “No man was ever happier to find that reconciliation was not too much a thing to be hoped for. Will you be very uncomfortable if I boast of having danced with the most charming lady in the entire house?”
A scream issued forth from amongst them, silencing the music and the crowd. The cry was close to Rhianna and Thayne; she instinctively tightened her hold on him as they looked around. Guests moved round about, separating, allowing space to the person from whom it had come.
Dowager Lady Whitehall was very pale. The object of her glassy gaze was indubitable. The longer she looked at Rhianna, the more frightened she became, sinking into the arms of Lady Whitehall who held her afoot.
“Catherine!” cried she, wide-eyed and shivering.
Rhianna felt her heart stop as Lord Whitehall and Lord Kingsley rushed to the dowager’s side and tried futilely to calm her.
“Guilford! Guilford, do you not see her?” she cried continuously.
“Mother, you are hallucinating,” declared her son. “What can you mean?”
She ignored him and spoke only to Lord Kingsley. “Can you not answer me, Guilford? Surely, you must see her!”
In a very low, calm tone, he spoke to her, saying, “My dear madam, you are mistaken. What you are seeing is only a guest of ours.”
“It is an apparition!”
He assured her, “There is no such thing before you. You must believe me. Catherine is not here.”
At this moment, and at this moment only, did Dowager Lady Whitehall remove her eyes from Rhianna and lock them upon Lord Kingsley.
“You will never convince me of it,” she swore.
Taking another look in the direction of the young couple, the old woman fell unconscious.
Rhianna gasped and commotion filled the ballroom. Mr. Weathersby and another, younger man lifted the dowager and carried her off as Lady Kingsley guided them and the Whitehalls out of the dance hall for quiet recovery.
Feeling that every eye must rest upon her, Rhianna kept her head and eyes down, inwardly traumatized. Hardly was she aware that Thayne still held her hands in his and even less was she aware of the concern in his eyes. Only when Lord Kingsley approached could she unflinchingly look up.
“Miss Braden,” said he, in a private tone, “are you well?”
“I am sure I do not know,” she returned, her voice shaky.
He placed a caring hand upon her arm. “She is a confused, old woman. There is no meaning in her words. Pray, do not let it alarm you.”
While he spoke, she gained enough courage to ask the only question that seemed to matter. “Who is Catherine?”
Lord Kingsley answered, “Obviously, she is not in her right mind.” With a glance at Thayne, he added, “Seeing as you are in good hands, I must withdraw to see about the dowager. Excuse me.”
Guilford Kingsley thus left them, raising an arm to the orchestra, signaling them to play. Music resumed, and those who did not care enough about Dowager Lady Whitehall’s scene to allow it to ruin their fun chose new partners. A few stood to the side and further observed Rhianna.
“Come,” said Thayne, guiding her to a seat, “you must sit. You are grown almost as pale as the dowager.”
She only had time to thank him before an impertinent Desmond approached.
“Ah, Brighton, my good man! I appreciate your assistance in helping Miss Braden. Now that I am here, however, I am glad to relieve you of your duty so you may continue to enjoy the ball.”
Rhianna knew not what subtle reaction she must have given in response, but Thayne was directly mindful of her desire not to have Desmond around.
He rose to meet him, saying, “You may call it a duty, if you are so inclined, but even if it were such, I should have no wish to be relieved of it.”
“I do not want to cause trouble to anyone,” Rhianna injected, with little energy.
“You are no trouble. Let the concern not enter your mind.” Turning once more to Desmond, Thayne said, “You may safely continue to enjoy the ball that is in your father’s honor. Your services are not needed here.”
Desmond’s displeasure was surprisingly ill concealed. Coldly, he excused himself and walked out of the ballroom altogether. Fortunately, the tension his presence created quickly dissipated with his exit.
Lady Brighton soon joined Rhianna and Thayne. Rhianna last had the opportunity of speaking with her only briefly at supper, but now she was glad to have her companionship again. Such a good-natured woman, and so unaffected by anything dramatic, Lady Brighton was precisely the sort of company Rhianna welcomed after the troubling event.
“Curious what she said,” whispered Lady Brighton to Thayne and Rhianna. “I can think of no one by the name of Catherine.”
Thayne sat leaning toward Rhianna protectively. “I think that you make too much of it, Mother. I believe Dowager Lady Whitehall was, as Lord Kingsley said, not in her right mind. The woman is ancient — her son ought not to keep her up such late hours.”
All expressed a hope that the dowager would quickly recover. Soon, Lady Brighton made a comment on the dancing and the general elegance of everyone in attendance, which further progressed into small talk about supper and the weather. Both her and her son’s attempts to take Rhianna’s mind off the troubling event did not go unnoticed by her, and though it did not produce the desired effect, she was appreciative and thought they gave it a wonderful effort.
“I admit, I am very interested to know how the snow is getting along,” said Thayne. “I propose we take a look outside.”
“Oh, no, no,” said Lady Brighton, “not me, indeed. I have no energy to leave the comfort of this seat, but do not let me stop you.”
“Miss Braden, will you join me?”
She hesitated, and he pleaded further for her company.
“Well, perhaps a walk will do me good,” she at last conceded, taking his hand.
They bid adieu to Lady Brighton and the two set forth toward a far corner of the ballroom, where crowding was minimal and the windows easily accessible.
“How were the balls in France, Miss Braden? Does excitement follow you?” he asked along the way.
“By excitement, do you mean old women screaming at me?” she asked, with a smile.
“Or having cross gentlemen vying for your attention,” he smirked.
She chuckled under her breath and momentarily recalled her coming out ball in France. Rhianna was sixteen years of age when Marquis Vallière hosted the ball in her honor. She and Philippe opened with a minuet. It was a sacred and cherished occasion.
This quickly triggered the memory, not only of that night gone by, but of Philippe himself and Rhianna caught herself in a comparison of her feelings for him and Thayne Brighton. The very presence of the latter had a tremendous effect on her. Never had she discerned such a perfect mix of emotions. His kindness, his words, his company brought her pleasure, yet his person — a turning of his head, the movement of an arm, the prospect of being with him alone — forced her to acknowledge that within only an hour’s time, Lord Thayne Brighton procured the power to make Rhianna’s heart flutter.
“No, I would venture to say this has been quite the evening. Not to mention,” she added, “the addition of new and unlikely friends.”
&nb
sp; They stood beside the window as she spoke and he watched her with — was it admiration? He seemed to halt his glance suddenly, and had there not been the barrier of situation and position in society, Rhianna might not have attempted to check her feelings.
“Quite the evening,” he returned.
Thayne distractedly drew back the drapery. She could not help but watch him closely, in part out of curiosity, in part because he was mesmerizing.
“Perhaps all of us will have to rely on the Kingsleys’ good hospitality and remain at the manor this night,” he said to her, before looking out.
“Let us hope it is not the case, or you may be sleeping where you now stand,” she jested.
“After such a night, even the best of circumstances would not place me in a mind for sleep.”
What this suggested, she hardly knew, but she afterward turned her attention to the window with little interest as to what lay beyond it. Rhianna barely perceived the ground of the courtyard was dry and the few flurries that swirled above were dispersing.
“I see Lydia Kingsley is up to her old tricks,” Thayne remarked, awakening Rhianna at once. “Lord Kingsley will not be happy about this.”
She squinted through the glass at the two shadowy figures that had eluded her previously. Despite the darkness, there was no mistaking the persons who now united covertly below. It was a brief meeting, something passed between them, and they separated.
“That is the man I saw before my accident!” declared Rhianna.
Thayne looked at her sharply. “Pierson? Are you sure?”
Rhianna’s mouth fell open at the name. “That is Mr. Pierson?”
He nodded confirmation. “How do you know of him?”
Rhianna relayed, “The night I arrived from France, Lord Kingsley seemed very much upset to hear Mr. Pierson was at the manor while he was away.”
“I suppose it explains why,” Thayne said, “if he did see you fall from your horse, he did not come to assist. He would not want Lord Kingsley to know he was in the area. But why would he follow you … ?”
He trailed off in thought as Rhianna’s mind followed a different path.
“So it is as I thought,” she said to him. “Lady Kingsley will not banish him, despite Lord Kingsley’s wishes.”
“So you have never met him?”
“I never met him, no. That same night we came to the manor, he was nowhere to be seen.”
“As can only be expected …”
Her interest was piqued at the prospect that Thayne knew something more than Mauvreen had told her. Rhianna looked eagerly upon him. Skillfully, she asked no question, but allowed him to read it in her expression.
He hesitated, before proceeding cautiously, “I would not wish to speak inappropriately with you, Miss Braden. Perhaps I have said too much.”
For Rhianna, he certainly had said too much to stop at this point.
“Is what you refer to of general knowledge?” she asked, not knowing her own desperation.
Choosing his words carefully, he said, “I would find it surprising if you have lived in Kingsley Manor these months and not known the nature of Lydia and Pierson’s relationship.”
Rhianna gave pause. “Are they not cousins?”
“Yes,” he laughed. “That they are.”
Despite her general naïvety, Rhianna began to follow his train of thought. “You don’t mean to say …”
Once again her look said the rest, and Thayne nodded apologetically.
“They are lovers,” he confirmed. “But, Miss Braden, I fear I have offended you.”
“Not you, indeed!” she cried. “But poor Lord Kingsley!”
“Pierson only affects Lord Kingsley’s wallet. He does not affect his heart,” he replied. “If you feel for Lord Kingsley, you must feel more that his own lover is long gone.”
“Lord Kingsley, as well?” she despaired. “No, I cannot believe it of him. He is … a good man.”
Thayne retreated immediately. “He is, indeed.”
Rhianna, despite such a shock, could see that no joy or even contentment seemed possible with Lydia. After a short time, she processed this information and still wished to know more.
“Lord Brighton,” she begged, “I do so wish Lord Kingsley to be happy. Do you suggest he found a measure of happiness with … his mistress?”
Thayne had a pained expression on his face. “They were known to have been very much in love,” he told her. “So much so, in fact, their devotion became somewhat legendary. Lord Kingsley has never recovered from the loss of her.”
Rhianna suspected he could have said much more on the subject, but he quickly fell silent. He almost seemed as if he had something else on his mind entirely.
“Goodness … who was this woman?” she asked.
“Desmond’s last governess.”
“Hallie … ?”
Her sudden passion in saying this one word seemed to surprise him. “So you have heard of her?”
With determination she released herself from speechlessness. Hallie — My Beloved Haldana — Lord Guilford Kingsley’s mistress! Rhianna drew a quick breath as she recalled him gazing at her brooch.
“I know very little. Does anyone know what happened to her?”
He shook his head. “She disappeared suddenly. To this day it remains a mystery.”
At that moment, Austine Leighart approached them, coming from a table where sat six or so young men and women who had all appeared to be of a close-knit clique the whole of the evening.
After examining Rhianna insolently, she ignored her, saying, “Lord Brighton, I think you have been gone for hours! Will you not come and visit your friends before we are departed for the evening?”
Her posture, the look in her eyes, all screamed of jealousy. Rhianna understood her and felt she had the right. If she and Thayne Brighton were intended for each other, as Lydia Kingsley suggested, and had Rhianna been in Miss Leighart’s shoes, she should have felt the same way.
“Yes, of course. I will meet you there in but a moment.”
Triumphantly, Austine dismissed herself to where she had come, leaving no opportunity for an introduction.
Thayne sighed, more visibly than Rhianna thought he intended.
“Miss Braden, you will have to excuse me. I wonder to where Desmond Kingsley has now gone? He would see firsthand the definition of duty.”
“Of course, you must go. I shan’t attempt to keep you.”
He hesitated.
“We will have to continue this conversation at another time.” Rhianna nodded, with the belief he would never remember their conversation, when he asked, “Perhaps tomorrow? Lord Kingsley no doubt allows you time to yourself?”
She could not hide her surprise. How torn she felt! Already, she had predetermined that her free time would be spent with Mauvreen.
“I …”
“You have plans,” he determined. Before she felt forced to hasten an answer, Thayne hurried, “I mustn’t ask you to alter your plans for me. I dare not be so selfish. However, I — I would like very much to see you again. That is, at a time convenient to you and … if you so desire.”
This last caught her breath. She could hardly think.
“I take Audra for riding lessons Monday …”
“Allow me to invite you both to Ravensleigh’s stables,” he returned. “Audra is very fond of my brother, Crispin. Perhaps we all can go. They are of similar age and he would be very happy to see her, as well.”
“I’m sure we would be delighted.”
Thayne seemed very happy. “I shall have a carriage sent for you both that morning.”
So it was settled. He bowed, she curtseyed, and Thayne Brighton left to appease Austine.
Such incredible plans, all decided so suddenly! Rhianna was in high spirits and, as she accepted a dance with a young man whom she barely recalled meeting, her mind was already far into Monday. Any and all unpleasantness from the evening was a distant memory. How he had done it, she could not figure o
ut, but Thayne had changed her feelings toward him entirely.
• • •
Following an elaborate fireworks display, the night was nearing three o’clock when the first family called their carriage. As the last few dances went underway, the dance floor thinned and the crowds lessened, with the exception of a few couples who remained determined to see it out to the last. The evening was coming to an end, as was Rhianna’s energy. At Lord Kingsley’s suggestion, (he himself would not quit his last guests until after daybreak), she retired without ceremony to the rose room, with his word that it would not be the last ball she would attend at Kingsley Manor. It was the perfect conclusion to a perfect night.
Chapter Five
“It’s been some time since you’ve come to see me.” Mauvreen pressed her fingers to her mouth, her eyes searching through him. “You are not looking well, again.”
“Overtired, perhaps,” the cloaked man replied. “I have had a long night.”
“And … ?”
She stopped here and leaned back in her seat, as though she said enough for him to respond. Perhaps she did, but his mood called for specific questions. He begged her to elaborate.
“I only wish to know if she danced,” Mauvreen pressed him. “Will you deny an old woman?”
He coughed. Whether it was real or feigned to buy him time she hardly knew. The cloaked man leaned forward, running his hand through his silver hair.
“You make this so difficult for me — yes, she danced. From the moment she entered the room, there was not a fellow who had not fallen at her feet.”
Mauvreen smiled brightly and nodded her contentment. “I expected as much. She must have looked — ”
“Like an angel,” he finished. “Or, a ghost, if you ask Dowager Lady Whitehall.”
Mauvreen raised a quizzical brow. “Oh, dear …”
“It is the least of my concerns. I have more oppressive matters to handle.”
“Lydia,” she stated, blankly. “How is she behaving?”
His countenance suffered at this. “Poorly, I’m afraid. There is no controlling that woman,” he opened up. “How she can be so openly defiant baffles me exhaustively.”
