Amanda L.V. Shalaby

by Rhianna

  Thayne remained steadfast. “Our families might have encouraged the match, Miss Leighart, but I have certainly never hinted at its fruition. I intend to marry for love and no amount of money or prominence can change my position on the matter. The truth is, I do not love you, nor could I ever love you.”

  “You are cruel to me, Lord Brighton!”

  “It would be cruel of me if you loved me. You, though, love only my position, my fortune, and my name. That is why I say these things to you without remorse. Were not you the one who suggested we speak openly? To lose me would mean disappointment for you on account of my wealth, not heartache on account of my person.”

  “No, my lord, you are entirely mistaken. What can have made you come to this unbelievable conclusion? Surely, these cannot be your true thoughts of me. I love you madly, as I could never love anyone.”

  Tears arose in Austine’s eyes as she spoke, but Thayne was not deceived.

  “I imagine you told Lord Cosworth the same, no doubt from the comfort of his bed, until he lost his riches.”

  In an instant, the vision of a victimized and desperate woman in love that stood before him transformed into the repugnant, gain-seeker that she was. Her open hand met his cheek with great energy.

  “How dare you speak to a lady in this manner! Such ill-bred behavior I have never seen! You shame yourself and your family. What woman would ever find you a prize?”

  Thayne extended his arm toward the door. “Good day, Miss Leighart.”

  A servant was sent for her mother at once. She met Austine in the carriage and they left Ravensleigh immediately.

  • • •

  Soleil’s last letter was quickly followed by a second. It read, in part:

  “… we can no longer bear the separation. We must come and see you. Besides, I have been keeping a bit of good news with the hope of telling you in person. As you are reading this, we are already on our way …”

  Rhianna dropped Soleil’s letter to her side and gazed listlessly out her chamber window overlooking the rotunda. She so wanted to be happy at the prospect of seeing them, but she knew what lay ahead. During the last year Rhianna had become rather deft at putting the matter out of her head. Presently, though, it weighed heavily upon her mind. Now that her mourning period was past, there was no escaping Philippe’s request for an answer.

  Of course, she began to reason, perhaps there was hope. After all, it had been more than a year. It was not altogether impossible that Philippe’s feelings had changed. He had not seen her in some time. He’d had plenty of opportunity to reconsider his choice and her absence surely contributed to his being of a clear mind. She imagined him in social settings, introduced to various ladies, and finding one he admired and loved, and who admired and loved him in return.

  The thought stopped her. Was that what she wanted? Philippe had loved her as well as any woman could ever hope to be loved. And though Rhianna knew she did not feel a passion for him as she imagined she would feel for the man she would marry, she did love him in return, as well as his family. How she would love to truly be a sister to Soleil! Not only that, but Philippe had the equivalent of five thousand pounds a year. She would never want for anything. France felt very much her home. Perhaps Mauvreen would even come with her.

  Rhianna found herself battling the fear she had so desperately repressed. If Philippe no longer loved her, what did her future hold? Immediately, she had a place to live, a position she loved, a friend or two, but beyond that was uncertain. Suddenly, she felt guilty. When she hoped Philippe would still marry her, was it because she really, deeply wanted to be married to him? Or was it when she eliminated Philippe as a marriageable option, she simply eliminated her security? Above all, could one ever know the right reasons to marry?

  Thayne Brighton inevitably penetrated her thoughts. He had been something of a fixture there since the ball, but even more consistently did she find herself drifting off because of him since their outing the previous day. It was not only his physical attractiveness, nor their unexpectedly intimate conversation, but hardly could she believe he had actually kissed her. How often she relived that moment! His lips, cold from the chilled air, warmed quickly against her cheek, the faintest hint of whiskers brushing against her smooth skin. She knew not what to make of it. Although she could not accuse him of the schemes she attributed to Desmond Kingsley, she also could not imagine him acting on any feelings he might have for her.

  She heard a rap at the door.

  “Yes, Katie?”

  The servant curtseyed. “Lord Kingsley wishes to speak with you in his study, Miss Braden.”

  Grateful for any distraction from her thoughts, she responded to the summons without a moment’s delay. Especially did she appreciate this particular interruption; Lord Kingsley had a calming manner that was contagious and Rhianna so wished to feel calm.

  It was unnecessary for Katie to guide her. Rhianna knew her way around the manor well by now, even the upper floors seldom traveled by her, and had memorized every hallway, every door.

  And one door in particular.

  It was on the first floor, and she passed it whenever she could. The handle would never turn, for the room was always locked. She checked it as often as she had reason to pass it, or as often as she made up reason to do so, as she did on her way to Lord Kingsley that afternoon. As she expected, that day was as any other and she wondered what lay beyond the door. It was not infrequent for her to lie awake at night, pondering the potential contents of this room, situated just beyond the family chambers.

  A servant announced her, as he led her into Lord Kingsley’s study.

  “Miss Braden, you come so quickly. I have only moments ago sent Katie for you.”

  He placed down the letter he was examining and removed his reading glasses.

  “Yes, well,” she replied, leaning onto the balls of her feet, “I was unemployed.”

  He gestured her to have a seat in the armchair before his desk. “I am glad to offer some mental stimulation.”

  Rhianna chuckled as she sat. “Mental stimulation I have in abundance, Lord Kingsley, however, a mental diversion would be most welcome.” Realizing she did not want to address her concerns about Philippe, she hurried, “You’ve spoken with Lord Brighton, I understand?”

  He nodded. “I have. He tells me that, aside from its abrupt ending, you all enjoyed a pleasant morning ride together yesterday.”

  “We did,” she confirmed happily. “Audra and Crispin are very … fond … of each other.”

  Who are you fond of, Miss Braden? she heard Thayne’s voice echo.

  “Ah, yes,” he chuckled, “I daresay, I ought not to allow her to come out any time before her sixteenth birthday.” Lord Kingsley continued, “Miss Braden, I have a request to make of you. Will you humor me?”

  This regained her focus. “Of course.”

  Guilford Kingsley inhaled deeply, his eyes, fixed on a distance object at the other end of the room, deep in mental vision.

  “I share Lord Brighton’s concerns to a degree,” he began guardedly. “It is possible, what with yesterday’s events and your previous accident …”

  Here, he paused, but it was enough. Rhianna had not been much concerned with the idea of being followed, either during yesterday’s outing or after her accident, until now. Something about Lord Kingsley expressing it made it more possible in her mind; something to be taken more seriously.

  “It is my humble request,” he added gently, “out of concern for your safety, that you not travel anywhere alone for the time being. Also, I would like to extend the offer to escort you to Mauvreen’s, if at any time you wish to see her.”

  Hardly could she speak. Had she been so consumed by her captivation of Thayne Brighton in both instances that she was blinded to a very real threat to her person? And for what reason could anyone have to single her out in such a manner?

  “If you think it necessary …”

  “Good,” he said, in a way that seemed not only to fina
lize the matter, but to vaporize the gloomy air that had penetrated the room. “Besides, it ought not to be a difficult thing when your friends arrive.”

  Rhianna yet held her letter from Soleil in her hands. Suddenly conscious of it, she smiled weakly, her mind between topics.

  “Yes, I have received news of Soleil and Philippe’s visit only moments ago. How can you have heard?” She looked at him expectantly, her eyes full of amazement.

  Lord Kingsley raised his own letter before her. “I have been in regular communication with Marquis Vallière since your arrival. From his letters, it seems they very much consider you as part of their family.”

  “As do I,” she told him, astonished to learn of such correspondence. “Lord Kingsley, I would like to request some time to spend with them. I hope it is not asking too much. Audra can always accompany me, of course. It would be an excellent opportunity for her to practice her French and improve her accent.”

  He nodded agreeably, while clearing his throat. “Indeed, I insist on it. When I learned they had accepted my offer, I was very pleased to hear it.”

  She stared blankly at him. “Your offer, sir?”

  “To stay at the manor, of course. Guests always give the servants a renewed vigor while cleaning.”

  “Lord Kingsley! Have you truly offered as much? To be sure, it is more than is necessary …”

  “Not at all! They seem a very pleasant family with whom I would welcome the opportunity to become more intimately acquainted. It is no inconvenience to anyone. We have more than enough rooms. There can be no objection on any side. I only regret that the Marquis and Marquise Vallière are unable to join their children for the trip.”

  Soleil and Philippe at the manor! For a brief moment, Rhianna’s spirits were lifted. She anticipated nothing but joy and, for a time, felt no anxiety at all connected with the matter.

  “Lord Kingsley,” she began, “thanking you seems inadequate. You know not the happiness having them here will bring me.”

  Guilford coughed forcefully into his hand, before telling her, “I look forward to it, as well.”

  With concern, Rhianna asked, “Are you quite well, Lord Kingsley?”

  “Yes, yes,” he assured her, hoarsely. “Pray, inform Audra of the matter. Also, she will be delighted to know I have invited the Brightons to dinner tonight and, as it is a small group, I intend to include her.”

  Butterflies instantly danced in her stomach. She knew exactly how Audra would feel. The mention of the Brighton name was beginning to have its effect on Rhianna.

  “You must also join us, Miss Braden,” he said. She attempted to decline, but he would not have it. “It is not my wish only, but I will need you to keep an eye on Audra.”

  She could no longer refuse, but she could also not tell which part made her more anxious: being requested to dinner or deciding what to wear. Rhianna immediately had a mental vision of her closet and nothing seemed adequate. She compared the idea of herself in either her brown or cream dinner dresses to what Lady Brighton and Lydia Kingsley would undoubtedly be adorned in, and shuddered.

  “Something troubles you?” he noticed.

  “Oh, no, indeed,” she declared, recovering.

  Only she was not convincing and Lord Kingsley was not deceived. “Pray, tell me your concern. I want nothing but your comfort.”

  “There is no concern whatsoever. I shall certainly find something to put on,” she insisted, revealing her disquiet unintentionally in her hurry to ease him.

  At once, she regretted her words, recalling all he had done for her with her gown for the ball. Lord Kingsley, however, for his part, seemed glad for this comment and was quick to understand her.

  “Rhi — ” He stopped himself suddenly. “Miss Braden,” he continued, “I have kept several gowns of my mother’s. She was about your size and height, and they only want some minor adjustments to update them.”

  Even as he was speaking, Rhianna was shaking her head. “Lord Kingsley, I could not …”

  “I can think of no better use for them, as they are quite lovely and it is a shame they are currently hidden away in an old closet.”

  “I really must protest — ”

  “I will have the seamstress gather them. You may expect her in your room within the hour.”

  The horrified look in her eyes brought a warm smile to his face and he chuckled, bringing on a fresh fit of coughing. No further objections would be entertained and Rhianna was soon dismissed from his study with the understanding that they would meet again at dinner.

  Chapter Six

  In a few hours time, with only a few stitches needed to tighten the bodice and a petticoat to add fullness to the skirt, Rhianna had a new, pale yellow dinner dress, trimmed with bands of satin, as well as a satin sash and buttons. She wore a necklace and earrings of turquoise that had been a gift from Marquise Vallière, as was the lace scarf she draped over her shoulders. As they waited to receive the Brightons, she sat uncomfortably in the drawing room, wondering what Lydia Kingsley would think at the sight of her in her mother-in-law’s costume, but the lady did not seem to recognize it as such. Soon, with a smile of approval from Lord Kingsley, Rhianna relaxed and enjoyed its fabric of rich, fine silk, perfect in its condition, without any show of wear.

  Barely were general pleasantries expressed when a servant announced that dinner was served. Lord and Lady Kingsley, followed by Thayne and Lady Brighton, started toward the dining room. Desmond took Rhianna’s arm, as Crispin did Audra’s, and the procession continued. Dinner — elaborate as ever, with numerous selections of meats, vegetables, fruits, and breads — sat displayed on the long table as if a work of art. Guilford sat at the head, merrily taking in the spread before him, with Lydia, followed by Desmond to his right, and Lady Brighton, Thayne, and Crispin to his left. Audra skipped happily to Crispin’s side, instead of her intended place beside Desmond, but no one seemed to notice or mind. Rhianna regretted that she had no choice but to assume the unpleasant seat herself.

  Guilford cleared his throat and thanked all for coming, followed by a short fit of coughing.

  “Lord Kingsley,” cried Lady Brighton, “we are all so glad your health has improved enough that we could be here tonight. But this cough of yours is worrisome.”

  “I, too, have noticed it,” added Thayne. “You did not seem yourself, even at the ball.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing at all, I assure you,” he promised, encouraging all to proceed with the meal. “Now, no gloomy conversation allowed. I want nothing but to enjoy your company.”

  Thayne and Lady Brighton consented to his wish and joined in taking wine with the group.

  • • •

  “Miss Braden has had some very good news today,” Guilford announced, wiping away the claret that escaped from his glass to his chin. “Good news, indeed, for all of us.”

  This intelligence did little to excite Lydia or Desmond, who clearly were already aware of the news to which he referred. Lady Brighton, however, was all smiles, looking very attentive; and Thayne, grateful for any opportunity to gaze at Rhianna, gave her his full attention as Lord Kingsley allowed her to declare the particulars.

  Thayne gathered that the sudden focus on Rhianna was not what she would wish. Nonetheless, she handled herself beautifully as she addressed the group.

  “I have just today received a letter from my friend, Soleil Vallière, whose family I lived with in France. She and her brother, Philippe Vallière, are coming to England to visit me.”

  “How wonderful!” Lady Brighton cried. “It must be some time since you have seen them.”

  “Over a year, Lady Brighton.”

  “They will be staying with us at the manor,” Guilford added, jovially. “There is nothing like new friends, is there, Brighton?”

  “I should like very much to meet them,” Thayne managed, struggling against his character to lie convincingly.

  A few further words were said on the subject, as Lady Brighton declared her wholehearted anticip
ation of the visit. Lydia Kingsley somehow achieved a comment, albeit an unbelievable one, of how “glad she should be” to have them as guests at the manor. The conversation of the table moved on, but the new topic could not hold Thayne’s interest.

  Rhianna smiled faintly and lowered her eyes to her meal, her slender fingers stirring the curve of her spoon disinterestedly around her soup bowl. Thayne was soon mimicking the action, as the idea of a smitten Frenchman coming to claim his long-lost love turned his stomach. The unpleasant thought only temporarily desisted as he dared raise his eyes and let them rest upon Rhianna — and was quickly mesmerized by the arch of her lashes as her eyes examined the steamy broth before her. He was soon lost in the creamy curve of her neck, only partially hidden by the red curls that danced along her collarbone. The occasional sparkle of an earring, as it caught a flicker of candlelight, would distract him momentarily, in between tracing the outline of her feminine shoulders and following the plunging neckline of her silk gown …

  “What are your thoughts, Lord Brighton?”

  His name rang in his ears as all the objects of the room — the table, the chairs, the ceiling, and the walls, which only a moment ago seemed so far removed — came rushing in at him. All at once, details emerged from obscurity, everything from the paintings to the curtains, the meal and the lighting, the eyes upon him, especially hers, and advanced to complete visual clarity in an instant. It was as if his eyes adjusted faster than his mind, and he consequently glanced toward Desmond Kingsley, the source of the voice, as he continued to awaken.

  Lydia, for her part, looked at him sharply, with a quick turn toward Rhianna, and Desmond’s glance was no less piercing.

  Lord Kingsley was quick to come to his rescue. “Of course, Lord Brighton, you agree with me that there has been quite a bit of chaos in Bristol — a violent business, to be sure.”

  Fully alert now, he nodded his agreement. “Indeed, Lord Kingsley, I do agree with you there.”

  “Oh, Guilford,” cried Lydia, “I beg you, parliamentary reform is a gentlemen’s topic to be discussed over port and cigars. Pray, wait until the ladies have escaped to coffee and cards.”