by Ruth Owen
There was only one possibility that explained Prudence’s inexplicable behavior, one circumstance that laid out his tangled thoughts as straight as a plumb line. Like a rusty machine coming back to life, his mouth crept up in a smile that held no trace of cynicism.
Prudence Winthrope was telling the truth.
Chapter Fifteen
Sabrina laid her tortoiseshell comb down on the dressing table, and gave her image in the looking glass a frown. “It’s no use, Amy. I might as well tie up my hair with seaweed for all the good I can do with it.”
“Here, let me.” Amy picked up the comb, and deftly begun sculpting Rina’s thick copper tresses into place. “It is not your fault. That lady’s maid of yours is hopeless when it comes to any sort of style. And we must have you looking your best tonight. All eyes will want to have a look at the ‘Angel of Wrecker’s Point.’”
Rina winced at the name. The tale of her cliffside heroism had stampeded through the countryside, growing larger and grander with each wagging tongue. By the time the story made a full circle back to Ravenshold, Rina learned that she had been hanging from the cliff by one hand, and holding Lady Sarah with the other.
“All eyes will be sorely disappointed. My heroics have been monstrously overrated. If you had been there instead of visiting Clara you would have seen—”
“—I would have seen a woman risking her life to save my niece,” Amy finished. “I know some of the details have been exaggerated, but the core remains. I shudder to think what would have happened to Sarah if you had not been there. She might have panicked, or even tried to climb back up if you had not gone down to her. Even Edward—who cannot string two nice words together to save his life—is praising you to the sky.”
“He is…too kind.” Even those few words were an effort for her. Just the mention of Edward spun her insides around. She’d come perilously close to confessing her love for him while they were in the nursery, but she’d caught herself just in time. He could never learn of her feelings for him, because of what he was, and what she was. By this time tomorrow he would be out of her life forever.
Amy’s hands stilled. “Prudence, are you all right? You’ve suddenly gone so pale.”
“I…I was wondering about Clara. How is she?”
“So many of her former friends have turned their backs on her. It is monstrous how everyone treats her—as if this whole business were her fault alone. Two weeks ago she was so unhappy that I began to worry about her baby, so I asked Dr. Williams to accompany me on a visit to her.”
“You accompanied Dr. Williams? I thought you could not abide the man.”
“Well, normally I would not tolerate him. But he has a way with Clara that gives her such comfort. And others, too. He shows great kindness to his patients, even the ones who can pay him nothing. The doctor who preceded him treated only the gentry, leaving the poor to the charlatans and gypsy witches. But Dr. Williams tends the poor with the same care and compassion that he shows to the wealthy. I knew that the first time I saw him with Clara. She’s an outcast and she can’t pay him a penny. But it doesn’t matter to him. ‘Tis so unexpected. He has always seemed so stuffy, so judgmental. But with Clara, he’s—”
Amy stopped. She shook her head as if to clear it, then renewed her efforts on Rina’s hairstyle. “Enough about the vexatious Dr. Williams. And do not try to flummox me. I know there is more to your mood then concern for Clara. Truly, what is the matter?”
Sighing, Sabrina told her as much of the truth as she dared. “I have been to few parties in my life—now I am about to attend one being given in my honor. It is…unsettling to be the object of so much attention. I know I shall be found wanting.”
“Stuff and bother,” Amy replied as she artfully secured Rina’s heavy auburn locks with a jeweled pin. “You shall be the most sought-after lady at the ball. Every gentlemen there will fight to have the next dance with you—including my own Paris, were he not out of town.”
“Mr. Fitzroy is out of town? He said nothing of it when he and his sister came for tea last Tuesday.”
“It was sudden. Something to do with a distant relation, I believe. Both he and Cassie were called away, but they should be back within the week.”
Sabrina pursed her lips, disappointed that she would not get the chance to see Lady Cassandra again. The thought of not seeing Mr. Fitzroy again was far less disagreeable to Rina. However, she would have liked to have talked with him once more, to settle her mind about how he’d come into possession of Isabel’s confession about her children. Quinn would think her boodle-brained for wondering about it, yet her mind latched on to the curious puzzle. How had Paris known of Isabel’s discontentment, when no one else seemed to have had so much as an inkling? And how—?
“Prudence!”
Amy’s sharp word sliced through Rina’s speculations. Hang it all, Rina-lass, if you can’t keep your wits about you before the party, how in heaven do you expect to keep them during it? “Forgive me. I was…I was—”
“I know that you were imagining all the gentlemen who will be fighting over you for a dance tonight. I vow that by the end of the evening I shall be quite beside myself with jealousy.”
Smiling warmly, Rina glanced up at Amy. Her golden curls fell in perfect ringlets around her face. She wore a white gown with silver trim that clung to her winsome form. She was as lovely as a storybook princess, and all the more beautiful because her goodness was more than skin deep.
Amy’s physical beauty was as rare and precious as her heart and Rina admired her for both. Still, it was impossible not to contrast Amy’s charming looks with her own plain countenance. “If gentlemen quarrel over dances, they shall only do so out of charity. I am plain, Amy. That is the truth of it.”
“The truth is that you have never given your looks enough credit. Perhaps when you first came here you were a bit pinched and peaked, but now…”
Amy set down the comb and grabbed Sabrina’s hand, dragging the surprised Rina behind her. Pulling Sabrina forward, she stationed her in front of the full-length looking glass. “Take a look, Cousin. Tell me honestly what you see.”
The sight of her reflection stopped Rina’s breath. The woman in the reflection wore an elegant gown of bronze satin cut with panels of russet gold, its dipped neckline revealing creamy white shoulders. Her auburn hair piled on her head like a crown, with jeweled pins winking like stars, and when she moved the candlelight danced across her as if she were made of fire.
But the most remarkable transformation of all was her face. Her once somber and despairing features had changed into a countenance of pride and assurance. Not beautiful, but happiness and fulfillment shone from her eyes. Rina pressed her hands to her cheeks, her green eyes brilliant with tears as she recognized the ghost of her lovely mother. “This is never me,” she whispered in wonder.
“It is,” Amy assured her. “It always was.”
Not always. Not when she was the unpaid drudge in the widow’s house, with a hollow present and a hopeless future. Her unexpected beauty was a result of the kindness and friendship—and the love—she’d been shown by the people at Ravenshold. She spun around and gave Amy a hug. “I want you to know that no matter where I am, or what happens to me in the future, I shall always remember this moment, and the true kindness you’ve showed to me.”
Amy returned her embrace, but when she pulled away her brow was furrowed in puzzlement. “You sound so strange, Cousin. Almost as if you meant to leave.”
A knock on the door saved Sabrina from replying.
Amy glanced at the clock on the mantel. “He’s right on time,” she commented as she crossed to the door.
“Who?”
“My brother. He told me he would come at half past the hour to escort us to the ball.”
Edward! Sabrina’s recent confidence collapsed. She’d been steeling herself all evening for their inevitable meeting. Now that the moment had arrived, she realized she wasn’t ready. In a hundred years she wouldn’t be ready. “
Please, do not open that door. I am not…finished with my hair.”
“Nonsense, your hair looks lovely.” Unconcerned, Amy opened the door—and met with a surprise of her own. Dr. Williams stood on the threshold, wearing his familiar brown topcoat and a plain white stock. His only concession to the festive occasion appeared to be hastily combed hair and a generally less rumpled appearance.
“Forgive the intrusion. Your brother asked me to escort you to the ball in his place. He—” As the doctor entered the room, he was able to catch his first full glimpse of Lady Amy in her ethereal white gown, with her blond tresses shining like silver in the firelight. Whatever else he’d intended to say died on his tongue. “You look…very nice.”
Rina watched as a faint blush stained Amy’s cheeks. She’d seen her receive bushelfuls of far more eloquent compliments with far less acknowledgement. She crossed over to the doctor, and placed a hand on his arm. “Dr. Williams, you mentioned Ed—my cousin. Has anything happened to him? Is he all right?”
Charles grinned, and patted her hand reassuringly. “Relieve your mind, Miss Winthrope. The earl simply had a prior engagement with another lovely young lady—his daughter wished him to sing her to sleep. When I left them he was wrestling mightily with ‘Three Blind Mice.’”
A lump rose in Sabrina’s throat. She recalled Sarah’s words about her father singing her to sleep, and knew that the long separation between them was coming to an end. In time Sarah would forget all but a shadow of her painful memories. She’d grow into a strong and beautiful young woman, secure in the knowledge of her father’s love. I wish I could be here to watch it happen. I wish it with all my heart.
“Prudence, you are growing pale again,” Amy cried in alarm. She turned to Dr. Williams. “I fear she is unwell.”
“She does look a bit peaked,” Charles agreed as he pressed his hand to Rina’s forehead. “And you are unusually warm. After a day such as yours, I am hardly surprised that you should feel fatigued. Perhaps you should not attend the ball—”
“But I must attend!” Sabrina backed away from the two, from their ministrations. Missing the ball meant missing her chance at the Dutchman. She could not bear to spend another day in this house, with its kind and loving occupants. She could not bear another day of being near him.
Sabrina lifted her chin, and attempted a lighthearted smile. “Surely you would not deny me my opportunity to be honored as the ‘Angel of Wrecker’s Point’?”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re all right,” Amy mused, though she did not look entirely convinced.
Smiling broadly, Charles gallantly offered his arm to Sabrina. “I believe this is the first time that I have ever escorted a bona fide angel. Make that two bona fide angels,” he added as he offered his other arm to a newly blushing Amy.
Rina returned his smile warmly, but a chill crept down her spine. Tonight she might be hailed as a heroine, but by this time tomorrow, Amy, Dr. Williams and everyone else in the county would most likely be calling her the Devil of Wrecker’s Point.
The party was more magnificent than anything Sabrina had imagined. The great hall was illuminated by a thousand candles, making the grand old house shine and glitter like a palace. The ancestral banners hung down from the ceiling, displaying their stark, brilliant images of gold crowns, white crosses, and blood-red lions as they had on tournament days long past. Flowers in silver bowls decorated every table and alcove, and music from the quartet in the minstrel’s gallery above flowed down on the guests. Couples swirled on the flagstone floor of the hall, their intricate moves reflected in the breast-plates of the polished suits of armor.
From the first moment Rina set foot in the hall she was the center of attention, far more so than even had expected. Within minutes she was commandeered by a retired army colonel with a bushy white mustache and a talent for exaggeration. He told her the most outrageous tales of his campaign adventures as they danced the quadrille, and had her laughing until she cried. Before she’d had time to catch her breath she was inaugurated into the minuet by an elderly magistrate who danced with the exaggerated grandness of a self-important local official, and next by a brisk-stepping baron with a hearty laugh, who summarily introduced her to his two eligible sons with a decided gleam in his eye.
The regard of the well-meaning country gentry as both flattering and endearing, and the once-ostracized Sabrina was human enough to enjoy it. But all the while she kept an eye out for Lady Penelope, and was distressed when time after time her search proved unsuccessful. Thinking she might have more luck if she were not whirling around the dance floor, she cried fatigue to her next partner and took a seat on one of the brocade-and-gilt chairs that lined the hall. She lifted her fan, and peeked over the top of it as she surveyed the room for the absent dowager.
It was a beautiful sight, she thought as she watched the silks and satins swish and twirl across the floor. A strange sense of deja vu settled around her shoulders, a memory she’d all but forgotten. Years ago her parents had taken her to a country dance in an old storehouse. She’d sat on the bales of sweet-smelling hay with the other children, clapping and laughing as the adults danced a merry jig. She could still remember the laughter, and the brightness in her parents’ eyes that had outshone every candle in the room. Halfway through her father had pulled her from the loft and danced a round with her, uncaring that he had to nearly bend over double to do so.
A sharp, fierce love welled up in her heart for her father, undiminished by time and the desolated wreck of the man he’d become. He’d been a good father once, and that was a treasure none could take away from her. No matter what happens, I’ll always have my memories of Da and Mum together. And I’ll have my memories of this night, and all my days at Ravenshold, and of Edward on the cliff holding his precious daughter, with his hair blowing wild and his eyes burning with the fire of dark suns—
“Bless me, Miss Winthrope, but don’t you look sharp!”
Rina glanced up, her distress forgotten as she recognized the rotund figure of Trevelyan’s lawyer. Her face blossomed into a smile. “Mr. Cherry, what a wonderful surprise. I did not know that you would be here.”
“I would not have missed it. Or Mother either.”
Rina’s smile dimmed ever so slightly. “Your mother is here?”
“Most certainly. She is right over there.”
He pointed to a semicircle of chairs at the far end of the room, where the stole-wrapped Mrs. Cherry sat, glaring with hard disapproval at the whirling dancers. Even in the midst of the brightness the woman seemed to have a dark cloud hovering above her. Rina chose her words carefully. “She looks…well.”
“Oh, indeed, she has been quite well. But it is not my mother I wished to speak to you about.” He settled his substantial bulk on the chair beside her, his beaming face growing pensive. “There is something I have been meaning to tell you…no, not just tell—explain. But it is not an explanation. It is more along the lines of a confession. Well, not precisely a confession. More like a—”
“Perhaps you should just say it outright,” Sabrina suggested gently.
“Of course. You were ever the quick-witted one, Miss Winthrope. But I must confess that on the day we arrived at Ravenshold—do you recall the day?”
Rina remembered every moment of that day. She remembered the tearing wind, the biting rain, the grand, desolate cliffs, the stab of lightning that had revealed her first glimpse of ancient Ravenshold. She remembered her first meeting with the proud dowager, and with Amy, whose beautiful, petulant exterior gave no hint of the generous heart beneath. But most of all she remembered Edward striding into the room with all the fury of the storm, smelling of rain and thunder, and burning with a raw energy that seemed to make every man she’d ever known seem pale and wan in comparison. He’d been terrifying, arrogant, impossible, and magnificent…and she’d started to lose her heart to him then and there, though she’d been too green to recognize it.
She laced her gloved fingers together tightly, as if d
oing so could help her keep an equally tight grip on her fragmented heart. “Yes, Mr. Cherry. I remember.”
He nodded efficiently, but he fiddled with nervously with the lace on his sleeve. “Yes, well, I must confess that even though I was completely convinced of your veracity, Lord Trevelyan was not. He instructed me to continue to verify your references, several times. I even traveled to Dublin to do so.”
Rina’s tight hands went limp. Quinn’s documents of Prudence’s false history was good, but they were still fabrications. Had Mr. Cherry found a hole in the story? Deliberately she lifter her fan, and make a show of nonchalantly toying with it. “La, business matters are so tedious. Tell me, what did you discover?”
“Well, in truth I could neither confirm or deny your testimony. But it matters little, especially after today. No one could doubt your true character after you risked your life to save Lady Sarah from certain death. I feel positively dreadful about continuing the investigation.”
