by Jade Lee
The thought should have frightened her. Instead it gave her an odd surge of excitement knowing she was the center of his thoughts. It was perverse of her, she knew. But she could not deny the thrill she experienced whenever she caught him looking at her.
Gillian sighed as the reverend began another long speech about the details of preparing stone for carving. If only the Season would begin. She must find a husband quickly or she would give her secret away entirely.
"I say, Sophia, is that Mavenford?"
Gillian twisted around at the cultured tones echoing through the sanctuary. From the corner of her eye, she saw Stephen also turn and Tom shrink surreptitiously behind a pillar.
There, sauntering calmly down the center aisle, was what must be a tulip of the ton and an incomparable. They were clearly brother and sister, with the same dusty blond locks curling artfully about their faces. Like Stephen, the woman's eyes were blue, although the tulip's were gray and had the cold gleam of a stone; the incomparable's eyes were more brilliant, flashier, like a rare sapphire.
Both were clothed in the first stare of fashion, although along completely different lines. The man preferred a colorful style Gillian found a trifle effeminate, especially when compared to Stephen. His pantaloons were yellow and his waistcoat gray and gold. This was topped by a dark green coat that flattered his narrower shoulders and emphasized the lean, trim lines of his almost lanky body. All in all, the effect was pleasing if not endearing, fashionable in a way the overwhelmingly masculine Stephen could never achieve.
"Goodness, my lord," said the woman as she neared Stephen. "I heard you were in town. I am so pleased to meet up with you today." The woman's voice fit her appearance perfectly. It was mellow, echoing with a seductive richness in the large sanctuary. Her tone spoke of wealth, sophistication, and most of all supreme confidence in her beauty and position in society. She wore a stunning silver and sapphire walking gown that cast Gillian's dull white dress into the shade.
While Gillian was occupied with envy, Stephen bowed solemnly over the incomparable's hand. "It is always a pleasure, Lady Sophia." He dropped a polite kiss to her fingers, then straightened. "Geoffrey. You look capital, as always."
The other man smiled with a distinctly world-weary air. "One does try." Then he raised his quizzing glass to the earl. "Nice to see you have made the effort."
Stephen returned the smile, his expression almost self-mocking. "As you said, one does try." Gillian tried not to stare at Stephen. He seemed all that was correct, but something in his demeanor told her he was not pleased by this interruption. The thought quite cheered her.
Then it was Gillian's turn to be introduced, and all thoughts fled as Stephen took hold of her hand and drew her forward. "Amanda, please allow me to introduce you to Geoffrey Rathburn, Lord Tallis, and his sister, Lady Sophia Rathburn. Tallis, Lady Sophia, this is Miss Amanda Wyndham."
Lord Tallis bowed over her hand, his fingers caressing her palm as he moved. "My pleasure indeed, Miss Wyndham."
Gillian curtsied and was grateful she did not fall flat on her face.
"Oh, my, this must be your little ward," Lady Sophia said with a serene smile. "You are quite lovely, my dear. I am sure you will take this Season."
"You are too kind, my lady," Gillian answered dryly as she met the frankly appraising glance of the woman. How could she ever have thought to be like this woman, to show Stephen she, too, could be sophisticated and elegant?
Where Lady Sophia's movements were graceful and unhurried, Gillian felt every jerk of her breathing, every awkward shift of her short, clunky body. Where Lady Sophia wore colorful fabrics with style and maturity, Gillian was trussed up in a childish white that already sported dirt smudges along the hem. Even Gillian's hair, her absolute best asset, could not compete with the other woman's fashionable coiffure.
She felt and no doubt looked a slightly scapegrace child. If it were not for the appreciative gleam in Lord Tallis's eyes, she would have given up altogether. As it was, she focused her gaze on Lord Tallis, the one man who seemed friendliest toward her.
"How odd to have met you here, Lord Tallis," Stephen said, interrupting her thought. "I had not thought the crypts especially fashionable these days."
A strange gleam entered the man's eyes as he glanced at Lady Sophia. "True, my dear. But then who knows where my sister's interest will lie from one day to the next. One minute she is happily anticipating a shopping expedition; the next moment nothing will do but to go visit the crypts. Of course, she must drag me along." He shifted into a martyred pose. "And all because of some correspondence from your mother." He glanced significantly at Stephen.
Now Gillian understood why the two had so providentially appeared in the church. The countess no doubt sent around a message telling Lady Sophia to join them here just to make Stephen more aware of Sophia's assets and Gillian's failures.
Well, she thought with an angry sniff, she would just show the arrogant witch exactly what Gillian Ames was made of. She might not be a highborn lady, but she, too, could act haughty, cold, and so reserved she would put the cool Lady Sophia in her place.
So began the most painful lesson of her life.
Chapter 7
Rule #8:
A lady does not play with dead bodies.
They wandered through the upper part of the crypt for a half an hour as the minister more than exhausted the subject of Norman architecture. Gillian's interest did not pick up until he paused at a heavy doorway.
"And this, of course, is the entrance to the lower chambers."
He made to move on, but Gillian stopped him. "But can we not go down there?"
"There?" The man's eyes bulged with shock. "But those are the lower chambers."
"I know, but—"
"Perhaps," Stephen interposed smoothly, "if we could just open the door and look in."
"But—"
"Please." Stephen's voice was firm.
The balding cleric hesitated, clearly reluctant, but he was no proof against Stephen's weighty stare. With a ponderous sigh, he used a large key to unlock the heavy doorway. Then, with Stephen's help, they pushed it open to reveal a cool, musty blackness resembling nothing more than a gaping black maw. Even Tom shrank back from his first glimpse, but Gillian knew what to expect. She had, in fact, been anticipating it.
She realized most people did not share her morbid fascination with burial practices. She glanced disdainfully at Lady Sophia's shrinking form and could not repress a grin. Perhaps this was not what Lady Sophia wanted to see, but then, Gillian had not asked them along.
"As you can see," continued the minister, "the lower crypts can be somewhat, uh, gruesome."
"Oh, I do not mind," quipped Gillian as she reached for a torch resting nearby for those entering the chambers. "The gruesome has always held a particular fascination for me."
"Why am I not surprised?" Stephen drawled.
Gillian flashed him a grin. "Because you know one can learn a great deal about a culture from the way they treat their dead. The ancient Egyptians, for example, used to..." Gillian let her voice trail away as she caught sight of Lord Tallis's horrified face. It did not bother Gillian a whit that Lady Sophia backed away from the lower chambers, but to have Lord Tallis staring at her as though she had just grown two heads was enough to give her pause.
She must appear hopelessly odd to him. Gillian bit her lip, indecision making her nervous. She was exceedingly curious about the crypts. So anxious, in fact, that it graced the top of her list of tourist locations. But she did not wish to look completely beyond the pale with her first gentleman acquaintance.
"Oh, Stephen," Lady Sophia called in a breathy voice. "Do stop her. It just is not done."
Gillian arched an eyebrow, suddenly decided. She wanted to be rid of Lady Sophia's infuriating presence. And the best way to do that was to enter the crypts. So she lit her torch off a wall sconce and flashed another grin at the wilting incomparable. "You will find. Lady Sophia, that I am hopelessly countr
ified. I often find myself doing things that just are not done. But"—she started to descend the narrow stairs—"if you would rather stay behind, I am sure I shall not come to any harm alone."
She shot another look over her shoulder, desperately trying to keep her expression innocent. Her efforts were rewarded by Stephen's exasperated sigh. "Minx," he said softly. "You know I cannot let you wander around there alone. Who knows what sacrilege you might commit? Then legions of old ghosts would come haunt me for allowing you to wander about unchaperoned."
"Nonsense," she replied as Tom joined her on the steps. "I would desecrate only one or two. You need not fear whole legions."
Stephen groaned, his eyes shifting uncomfortably between herself and Lady Sophia. "You are determined?" he finally asked Gillian.
"Absolutely." At that particular moment, Satan himself could not have prevented her from descending the stairs.
Stephen shrugged at the still goggle-eyed cleric, then lit his own torch. "Have at it then, brat."
Gillian grinned, pleased to have won out over the shrinking Lady Sophia. "Excellent." Then, just to make sure the elegant interlopers stayed behind, she continued to prattle in a seemingly innocent manner. "You know, I wonder if any of the raiments are still on the bodies or whether they will all have decomposed."
Beside her, Stephen groaned, but Gillian could not restrain a giggle. Her last glance at Lady Sophia showed the fashionable incomparable literally trembling on the threshold as she tried to steel herself for the descent. It would take only one last comment to make sure the lady stayed above. Gillian lifted her torch high, pretending to shine it about the large alcove, looking for a body.
"Oh, look," she called up. "The finger bones on this one are still intact. It seems as though he is reaching for something. Or could it be someone?" In truth, it was nothing more than a rats' nest. The bodies were kept deeper in. Still, it achieved its desired effect. High above them, she heard Lady Sophia's horrified gasp.
Then just behind her left ear, she heard Stephen's low voice, sending chills up her spine. "That was not well done of you."
She did not answer at first, choosing instead to focus on her footing as she gained the main chamber. Stephen was seconds behind her, but that gave her enough time to make sure her back was to him. Still, she knew she was acting shrewish, and a sharp stab of guilt coursed through her.
She squelched it, giving rein to her anger as she did her best imitation of his mother at her most annoying. "Oh, la," she said in an overly sweet tone. "It is not as if we invited her to join us."
"No, we didn't," he responded, his voice still low. "But my mother did, and it behooves us both to act civilly."
"Perhaps it behooves you," she snapped, throwing the words over her shoulder. "But your little ward does not feel nearly so charitable." Why she was so put out by his defense of Lady Sophia, she had no idea. But she was given no time to think about it as he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him.
The crypts were dark, the only light from the flickering torches. They cast a reddish glow over his face, giving him an almost demonic appearance as he stared at her. Then, with one firm hand, he gripped her chin, tilting her head upward, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. The flames danced there as well, mesmerizing her even as she felt a sudden fear chill her bones.
She stopped all pretense of a struggle.
"Listen well," he said, his voice reverberating eerily against the stone walls. "Good manners are more than saying please and thank you. They are about being kind. About bringing out the best in people rather than the worst. And if you cannot do that, then you'd best go back to York now, for you will disgrace us both with your spite."
Gillian felt her chest compress with mortification.
He was right. In her effort to be sophisticated, she had acted as the very worst of the gentry rather than the best. Dropping her gaze, she murmured a soft, "You are correct, of course. I am sorry."
She watched in amazement as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Chucking her under the chin, he placed her arm on his. "Come on, then. Let us go see your dead bodies."
But in that they were forestalled, as Lady Sophia, with more pluck than Gillian would ever have given her credit for, teetered down the steps on the arm of her brother, her face so pale as to be nearly translucent. Behind them came the minister, carrying another torch, his round forehead slick with worry as he glanced nervously at Lady Sophia.
"Praise be," called Lord Tallis with a relieved sigh. "I was afraid you had gone on. Come help her, Mavenford, while I light my torch."
With an irritating quickness, Stephen disengaged himself from Gillian and crossed the chamber to the base of the stairs. He reached out one hand, and Lady Sophia nearly tumbled into his arms as she tried to half run, half fly down the remaining steps. Then she attached herself to Stephen as though he were the sole barrier between her and the Great Beyond.
In her disgust Gillian nearly said something caustic, but mindful of Stephen's lecture, she kept her tongue firmly between her teeth. Not so Tom, who kept close to her side.
"Looks like a plucked chicken with that scrawny neck and pasty skin o' hers."
Gillian looked down in surprise, nearly choking on her laughter. "Tom, that was not kind."
He shrugged, clearly showing that the earl's lecture had no effect on him. "Want I should draw 'er feather?"
"What?"
"That geegaw. Should I pluck it fer ye?"
Gillian glanced back at Lady Sophia. The woman had regained some of her composure and now stood nearly candlestick straight, except for her decided lean toward Stephen. They conversed in low tones while the cleric rambled on again about the stonework.
It was not until a flash of torchlight caught the gleaming gold of a cross resting neatly between Lady Sophia's breasts that Gillian understood Tom's question.
"You cannot mean to lift her cross, Tom. Why, she is wearing it in plain sight."
Tom stiffened at what was apparently an insult to his pick pocketing skill. "I can. Just watch me."
He made to slip away, but Gillian grabbed him, holding him back. "Do not dare, Tom. Just think what would happen if you were caught. You would lose your position with the earl. Besides, he would have my ears on a platter for letting you try."
"But—"
"No, Tom." She gave him a hard stare until he finally gave in with a dramatic sigh. She grinned and ruffled his hair as they passed through a stone archway into another chamber. "Thank you for the thought anyway," she whispered. "It would have been nice to see that superior little smile wiped right off her face. Ah, well," she said on her own mournful sigh. "I am respectable now and must not think such things."
"Don't know why you take on so." He grimaced at the earl and the woman who was now so close to him she seemed suctioned to his hip. "Plain as piss you have twice as much bottom as she."
Once she translated his comment into understandable English, Gillian felt her spirits lift. Yes, she still wanted to scratch Lady Sophia's eyes out, but at least Tom remained her friend. "Thank you, Tom. I think."
"Yep." He nodded. "You and me, we's cut from the same cloth. Don't go trying to ruin it by becoming one of 'em." He spat disdainfully toward Lady Sophia, then caught sight of the first corpse-filled recess. "Blimey, think they has any geegaws left on 'em?" Then he dashed off to inspect it, carefully blowing away the dust as he no doubt tried to find something to steal.
Gillian slowed her step, her eyes trained on the boy while her heart beat hard in her chest. He'd said they were cut from the same cloth. Could it be that apparent? Could everyone see her baseborn roots as clearly as Tom?
She knew he meant his words as a compliment, but Gillian saw them as another example of just how far she must go to pull off her charade. If one little street boy could figure her out in two weeks, how long before someone else did? How long before Stephen did?
She would have stood there in shock, her confidence failing her with every breath, if not f
or the sudden appearance of Lord Tallis by her side. "Save me, sweet lady, from dying of boredom. It would seem our cleric is intent on relating everything ever recorded on stonework until I quite want to drop some of these exquisite examples on his head."
Gillian blinked, refocusing her thoughts with an effort. "Uh, I am sorry if this bores you, my lord. Perhaps you could go above and find—"
"You misunderstand, Miss Wyndham," he interposed smoothly. "I said the prosy cleric bores me. You, however, do not. Do you truly find these bodies interesting?"
They wandered over to a room filled with dusty piles of bones laid out in recessed alcoves.
Kneeling down, Gillian brushed some of the filth away from ancient lettering carved into the rock. "Yes, Lord Tallis," she finally confessed. "I do find this interesting. I know that makes me hopelessly odd, but there it is."
He stepped closer, apparently to inspect one of the higher bodies. "Say unusual rather than odd." He turned so he looked nearly straight down at her. "Unusual and most intriguing."
Gillian stood up and backed away, not liking the way his gaze seemed to center on the curve of her breasts. When she spoke, she kept her tone hard, but not cold. "You will find, my lord, I am most immune to Spanish coin. I know the true reason you are speaking with me is to free up Stephen for your sister."
His light eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "Stephen, is it?"
She felt herself blush and was furious with herself for such a stupid gaffe. "The earl is my cousin and my guardian. We have become somewhat familiar."
"Indeed." There was a wealth of subtle intrigue hidden within the word, and Gillian found herself angry despite the fact that an innocent debutante might not understand any of his implications.
"I find your tone offensive, my lord."
Suddenly the slightly debauched courtier disappeared as Lord Tallis grinned with boyish impudence. "My apologies, Miss Wyndham. It is just that Mavenford is such a handsome devil. You would not be the first young chit to find herself in thrall to him, even before he got the title. I just needed to be sure—"
