by Lavinia Kent
She stood, staring. Kathryn stopped also—then took a single step toward her, pulling hard at the dog’s lead.
Neither of them spoke.
Elizabeth came up behind Kathryn, catching her arm and attempting to turn her away, but Kathryn would not be moved. Instead she handed the dog’s lead to Elizabeth and moved toward Linnette.
Linnette pulled a deep breath into her chest, held it, then stepped toward her friend. Perhaps this small thing she might be able to fix.
“I am so sorry. I should have told you about what happened with Harrington. No, I should never have been involved with your husband in the first place—even if he wasn’t your husband then. No, I should never have been involved with him and I should have told you.”
The corners of Kathryn’s mouth tilted up, although her eyes remained serious. “That makes no sense.”
“I know, I am just so sorry.”
“Come away. There’s no need to upset yourself.” Elizabeth was pulling at Kathryn’s arm again—and at the same time pulling at the puppy, who clearly had other ideas.
“I am not upset.” Kathryn took a step toward Linnette. “I’ve been looking for a way to speak with you. I just didn’t expect it would be here, in the park. I don’t ever come this early in the day—except now with Fifi,” she nodded at the puppy, “I have to come before the crowds or there is bound to be trouble. She ruined more skirts with her muddy paws than I can bear to think about.”
Linnette glanced at the dog, which had rolled on its back and was wiggling with abandon. Elizabeth was doing her best to pretend nothing was happening.
Kathryn caught her glance. “She’s a wolfhound, a gift from Harrington—but that is a story for later, when all this is behind us.”
“I thought you never wanted to speak to me again,” Linnette said.
“And how many times have we said that to each other over the years?” Kathryn answered.
“I do remember when you stole my red rubber ball the very day my father gave it to me.”
“I believe I was only three at the time. And you had taken my favorite stuffed bear.”
“You were too old for bears.” Linnette felt her heart lighten with each word of banter.
“I was three.”
“I remember you as older.”
“Well, what about the time you told me that sitting in the sun would clear up my pimples and all it did was give me freckles?” Kathryn was not ready to concede the point.
“So we are speaking again?”
“I must say that sleeping with my husband is a good step worse than causing my nose to freckle, but I will admit that given that it was over a year before I met the man, I can only stay angry for so long.”
“I should have told you,” Linnette said the words quietly, but with great emphasis.
“Yes, you should have. I can see that it was difficult, but you should not have left me to find out the way I did—from that foul cartoon.”
Linnette took a slight step back so that her gaze captured Annie and Elizabeth as well. “Has there been any further news of the cartoons? Of who is behind them?” She narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth as she spoke.
“No,” Annie spoke up. “I’ve asked around to the extent possible and nobody seems to know.”
“I have made inquiries also and everybody seems baffled—and eager for the next one,” Kathryn said.
All four women were quiet for a moment as they considered that thought.
“I spoke with Annabelle yesterday,” Linnette said. “She, too, knows nothing more.”
“I thought after the last cartoon that they were aimed at me and Harrington,” Kathryn leaned closer, “but after this last one I fear they may be aimed at you, Linnette.”
“But why? What have I ever done to cause such anger?”
“I can think of some things.” Elizabeth stepped forward, dragging the dog. “Are you really going to forgive her with such ease, Kathryn? I am not sure I would ever forgive her.”
What was Elizabeth’s problem? Whatever it was it did not need to be aired here, in front of the others. “Why don’t you come look at the ducks with me, Elizabeth?” Linnette asked, trying to draw her away, to talk to her with more privacy.
“I’ll come too.” Annie clearly sensed trouble in the air and, as always, was trying to diffuse it.
“No, why don’t you stay and keep Kathryn company,” Elizabeth said. She thrust the dog’s lead at Annie and grabbed hold of Linnette’s arm. “We will be fine by ourselves.”
Linnette smiled sweetly at her friends and walked off toward the water, dragging Elizabeth along.
The moment they were out of earshot she turned and faced Elizabeth. “Why did you do it? I can understand wanting to hurt me, but the first cartoon hurt Kathryn far more than it upset me.”
“I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth responded. “I saw your face at Annabelle’s when I first brought out the cartoon of you and Harrington. You were not at all pleased.”
“I was upset for Kathryn. I knew how it would hurt her. There had been rumors about Harrington and me for years. It was old news, nobody would have cared—nobody but Kathryn.”
“I don’t know about that either. Look about you now. Everyone is speculating. I do believe Mrs. Wattington is staring at your belly as we speak and trying to decide if it has grown. The prospect of an unwed dowager duchess having a child is quite entertaining.”
Linnette glanced in the direction where Elizabeth had nodded. Mrs. Wattington stood there making no pretense that she was not staring at the two of them. Linnette glanced down at her bell-shaped skirt and swore. Current fashion would be the death of her.
She glanced about. Elizabeth and she were the center of attention and not one eye seemed focused on Elizabeth. “Is this what you wanted?” she asked. “I still don’t understand why you are so upset with me.”
Elizabeth drew in a long, deep breath. Her gaze followed the path that Linnette’s had. A slight smile formed on her lips. “I cannot say that I am sorry for your troubles. Everything has always been so easy for you. You had a handsome husband, a grand title, and all you’ve ever had to do is look at a man and he was yours. I’ve had to work for everything I’ve ever received and no man has ever looked at me the way they do at you. If anything, they avoid me.”
“Is that why your husband left and never returned?” Linnette regretted the words as soon as they were spoken, but there was no calling them back. Elizabeth was extremely attractive to men, whether or not she realized it.
“Why my husband left is no concern of yours.” Elizabeth had grown a good three shades paler, but her eyes still sparked with anger.
“Maybe if you didn’t look ready to attack all the time, men would not be afraid to approach you.”
“How can they when they are so busy watching you wiggle your hips across a room? And your breasts. Have you ever considered buying a dress that has enough fabric to cover them?” Elizabeth stepped back and up onto the low rock wall that edged the lake, raising her several inches higher than Linnette.
“My dresses have nothing to do with whether men look at you or don’t. Although perhaps if you had some breasts to show, they’d pay more attention.” Why was she acting so catty? Linnette had always taken pride in never resorting to such tactics, but Elizabeth was bringing out the worst in her. She stepped up on the wall beside Elizabeth, refusing to cede any unnecessary height advantage to her foe.
Elizabeth set her lips in a tight line and glared.
Linnette glared back. She was sure they were putting on quite a show for the gossiping biddies.
“So is it your breasts that attracted Doveshire or just your easy ways?” Elizabeth just about spit the words at her.
“I am not sure which Doveshire you mean, but I can promise you they both liked my breasts—and both would have told you I was anything but easy.” She was so tempted to push Elizabeth into the water. “But, I think what they like best is that I am not a bitch. I’d never betray my frien
ds like you have.”
“I have never betrayed my friends. That is you. First, Kathryn and now me.”
“How did I ever betray you? —and I don’t admit to betraying Kathryn. That was all years ago.”
“How did you betray me? I tell you that I am ready to take a lover and that I think the new Doveshire is the man for me and within the hour you’re leading him into a dark garden. Can’t you bear to let anyone else have a man or do you need to claim them all?”
“It wasn’t like that—and even if it had been, that is quite different than planting these evil lies.”
“You’ve already admitted that it wasn’t a lie about Harrington and from what I’ve seen it isn’t a lie about Doveshire. You practically drool when you look at him.”
She was going to push Elizabeth. She couldn’t wait to see her splashing in the water, her sodden dress clinging to her. And then a far better plan formed. She glanced around. Nobody was watching closely, attentions had wandered, but neither was anybody leaving if the possibility of a story existed. Oh, she’d give them a story.
“Just tell me why you did it? Why the cartoons? Why hurt Kathryn as well?” Linnette took a small step closer to Elizabeth, positioned herself just right.
“I did not do it. Oh, I can’t say I am sorry at the outcome. Kathryn seems to have recovered well and I do love how everybody stares at you and titters. It’s about time people saw what you’re really like.”
“I don’t believe you. Nobody else would be so spiteful.” Linnette glanced back, prepared herself. She didn’t know why Elizabeth was denying it. There really was no other possibility.
“I tell you I didn’t do it. If I had I would have—.” Elizabeth took a half-step forward.
This was the moment.
Linnette threw up her hands, and screamed as loudly as she could. “No, no, don’t do it!” She stepped backwards off the wall, letting herself fall into the water below.
It was far shallower than she had realized—and colder. She was lucky she hadn’t cracked her head on one of the scattered rocks. It would probably have served her right, but she couldn’t regret her actions.
She rose from the hip-deep water and glared up at Elizabeth who stood looking down at her shock.
“How could you?” Linnette asked loudly, doing her best to draw everybody’s attention—although she imagined her scream and splash had already accomplished that.
“But, I—I didn’t!” Elizabeth was too shocked to form a coherent thought. Her face was blank as she stared down at Linnette.
Linnette trudged back to the wall and with some small difficulty climbed back up onto the wall. “Oh, but I assure you, you did.” She let Elizabeth see the slightest hint of a smile before she let her face fall. She looked down at her dress and yelled, “My dress. My new dress. You’ve ruined it.” With each word she brushed the fabric down, pulling it tight. The soft muslin clung to her, nearly transparent. “Look at me. I am such a horror.”
She twisted this way and that looking down at her skirts, but also glancing at the gathering crowd. Nobody would think she had a belly now. The full skirts were so tight about her body it would be impossible to think she had anything to hide.
She turned from Elizabeth and walked with great dignity toward Annie and Kathryn—and the dog, which wagged its tail, clearly enjoying the show. Each step was slow and careful, allowing everyone to have a good gander, to see just how slender she was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“You’re here?” Linnette’s voice echoed as she entered, pushing aside the heavy curtains that draped all sides of the opera box. Her tone was much more civil than he would have expected given how they had parted.
“Where else would I be?” James stood as she approached, his gaze taking in the deep blue gown and flash of diamonds. Her hair was upswept this evening, curls escaping at her brow and the sparkle of more diamonds caught in the waves. She truly was a duchess this evening—if not a queen.
“Off risking it all on the turn of card, or looking for that young chit to marry. I didn’t know you cared for music.”
“I don’t. And you know I didn’t mean it about the marriage.” He said it slowly, letting his gaze show her just what he did care for. It might be a mistake. He’d spent the afternoon trying to decide how to handle this aggravating woman who would not be his wife. And he’d finally come to the realization that he’d take her however he could get her—and he’d keep looking for that dragon to slay.
“How did you know I’d be here? I would have thought you would avoid me. When you left, I wasn’t sure you’d ever wish to see me again.” She took a seat beside his at the front of the box. He could tell she was on edge.
“I remembered how you always longed to attend the opera when you were a girl. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would have changed. And I’ve given up on avoiding you—and arguing with you—and accepted that I cannot resist you.”
She pressed her lips together, but he could see the glint in her eye. His answer had pleased her.
And just like that he knew they had survived their argument of the morning. Things might not be easy between them, but they were progressing.
“Did you invite any other guests?” he asked.
“No. I had planned to—but—.”
“But?”
“It was a strange afternoon.”
“A good one?”
“I am not sure yet. It has left me most unsettled.”
“Do you wish to discuss it?”
“I am not sure that I do.” She peered over the high edge of the balcony, looking intently at the crowd that was very intently staring at her. “Although there may be no avoiding it.”
“Is it still the cartoon? I would admit to getting my share of strange looks and ribbing throughout the day.”
“It is that—but it’s more than that. I am afraid I courted my own share of gossip this afternoon. I am surprised you have not heard.”
“I spent most of the afternoon at home reviewing the plans for the fall harvest. I stopped by my club but only briefly. I assumed any strange looks related to the cartoon. What have you done?”
Linnette leaned forward, bending over the railing. “I am tempted to wave. I’ve never been such the center of attention. Even when I first appeared after marrying Charles people only stared for a moment. Now I feel they are waiting for me to do something scandalous. I am surprised Lady Beard has not trained her opera glasses upon us. She certainly has not taken her eyes off me. Should I pull tight my skirts and show her my flat belly?”
“You are in a strange mood.”
She reclined in her chair, letting her head fall back. “I think I am just tired, tired of fighting with you, tired of never knowing where I stand—and tired of all this.” She gestured towards the audience.
“I am tired of fighting also. I surrender. We can play this game as you wish—and I will never marry another as long as you are with me. I will let my cousin Swatts inherit the title after me, if I must.”
“Given that he is a good ten years older than you, that may not be a worry.”
“Well then, whoever comes after him. You may end up running the dukedom again while they look for him.”
“Don’t even say that.” She placed a hand on his sleeve and he could think of nothing but her.
“So what do you want?” he asked.
“I am not sure I know what you mean.” Her fingers stroked the thick fabric of his sleeve and he could almost pretend they were stroking something else.
“Do we hide? Should I leave and go talk to some other sweet young thing to protect your reputation? Perhaps I can invite someone else to join us. I see that Tattingstong has just arrived with his wife. You did mention you had become friends.”
Linnette leaned forward a bit. He watched as she considered the matter.
“I think perhaps we should just let them be. I do want to help Annabelle. I have promised to do so, but I think perhaps this is not the best moment. I do not want t
o cause her any more difficulties when I am so mired in gossip. I will send her a note.”
It took but a moment to summon a servant and take care of the matter.
Linnette watched as across the way her note was received and read. James watched as eyes met and the ladies exchanged a slight nod.
Shifting in her chair, Linnette leaned back again. “Ahh, I am glad that worked. I confess I did not want to feel guilty for not helping her, but I also did not wish company—not when we have so much unresolved between us.” She leaned toward him, her hand once again finding his sleeve. Her fingers brushed the fabric back and forth slowly, working their way down to edge of lace at his wrist.
He shivered as she brushed his bare skin.
Turning in his chair so that he could stare at her more directly, he felt the corners of his mouth lift. “Is this a sign that you are forgiving me, my lady?”
Her eyes clouded. “In truth, I don’t know. It is certainly a sign that I am not happy when I am not touching you, near to you, but forgiveness—I do not know. And forgiveness for what?”
“That is the question. Forgiveness for my storming away earlier?”
“I talked with Kathryn today in the park. It was only for a few moments, but she reminded me of all the ways we have slighted each other over the years and how none of it matters. We are as much family as friends. So yes, I forgive you for being a boar. I daresay I was one too. But in truth you are as much my family as you are my lover. Day-to-day arguments and fights do not truly matter between us.”
“But you will not let me truly be your family.” He said the words with more anger than he meant.
“Do not feel that way. That is not a matter of forgiveness.”
He started to turn away, but she lifted her other hand to his cheek and held his face, staring deep into his eyes.
“You will cause talk,” he said, but he did not pull from her hands.
“I am reaching the point where I do not care.” She rubbed her fingers across his cheek. “You shaved just before coming.”
