Lucinda turned in her chair to watch her cousin pace back and forth. She wanted to ask how he’d found out, but decided, not a good idea, and besides, what did it matter? If he knew, he knew, probably from one of his servants who also served as a spy. She reflected upon what a sheltered life she’d led, up to now. Papa had never even come close to being as angry as Edgerton. But even though this seething anger was new to her, she knew she must remain calm, not allow herself to be cowed and terrorized. Poor Alethea! How terrible to have lived with a father like this all her life. “I do hope you won’t be too hard on Alethea,” she said in as calm a voice as she could summon.
Edgerton stopped in his tracks and sneered. “That ninny daughter of mine has just foregone all her privileges. From now on, there will be no balls, soirees, or parties of any type. No London Season, either. She shall stay home and work her sampler. And as for you”—he pointed a bony finger at her—”you’re a grown woman, not my own daughter, so I can hardly tell you what to do. Suffice to say, if you have any further contact with Lord Belington–and I mean so much as look in his direction—I shall declare you unwelcome under my roof and send you home.”
Not a good idea, Lucinda thought in despair. She would feel positively disgraced if Edgerton sent her packing. She pictured having to crawl back to her parents, compelled to admit she had made a mistake when she, so cocksure of herself, insisted upon going to Aunt Pernelia’s, despite Papa’s warnings. How humiliating! Oh, no, she could not leave now. Besides, Aunt Pernelia needed her, and not only that, somehow she must help Alethea. The poor girl would be devastated. Somehow, some way, she must find the means to make Edgerton back off from such a harsh punishment. She must use all the tact she possessed and be persuasive.
Try to be humble—don’t lose your temper. “Cousin Edgerton,” she began sweetly, “I do understand how you must feel. To lose your little sister in that horrible manner—well, one can understand what you and Sarah, as well as your mother have gone through all these years.”
“Now you understand why I hate the Belingtons.”
“Of course, it’s clear now. And I wouldn’t dream of—” She had to stop and clear her throat. It would not be easy to get the words out. “I wouldn’t dream of ever seeing Lord Belington, ever again. I would hate to be sent home. This may sound immodest, but I sense that Aunt Pernelia has taken a liking to me, and that if I stay, I can make her life a mite easier.”
Edgerton nodded. “I grant you that. Mama has been in much better spirits since you arrived.”
Ah, the perfect opening. “Then let’s keep her in better spirits, shall we? You know how fond she is of her one-and-only granddaughter. If Alethea is made to stay at home, you know how she’ll mope around. She’ll make everyone’s life miserable unless...” Lucinda remembered a little trick her frivolous sister, Henrietta, employed in order to get what she wanted from a man. She bowed her head a bit and, through a tangle of lashes, peered up helplessly at Edgerton, all the while stretching her hand out in dainty supplication. “Oh, dear, you know far more about these matters than I, Cousin Edgerton. You are doubtless thinking right now that keeping Alethea virtually a prisoner is perhaps not the answer.”
“I don’t think—” Edgerton began, but Lucinda went on as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Far better to allow Alethea at least some freedom? Of course, she’ll not ever speak to Alex again, but unless she’s allowed to attend a few social events, heaven help us! She’ll drive us all daft.”
Edgerton looked skeptical. “And just how could you guarantee she’ll not speak to Alex? After all, he seems to be back in the social whirl again, and will be attending the same social functions around York.”
“I shall see that she does not,” Lucinda said, wondering what she was getting into and how she could possibly watch her young cousin every minute. She must sound positive that she could, though. “So you see, it’s all quite simple. I promise I shall not see Lord Belington again, and I give you my word Alethea will stay away from Alex. I shall see to it personally.” She cast Edgerton a radiant smile. “You want the girl to make a good marriage, do you not? Well, she wouldn’t be able to marry a goose if she’s forced to stay at home all the time.”
“Hmm.” Edgerton bit his lip, obviously in deep thought. “There’s merit in what you say,” he finally admitted. “If you can guarantee—”
“I guarantee! At the balls and soirees, and wherever, I shall watch her like a hawk, as will, I am sure, her mother.” Lucinda hesitated, not sure whether to say what had just popped into her head, but why not? “And obviously you have other sources for keeping track of Alethea.” She waited, holding her breath, hoping she had not set this obnoxious man off to new heights of contentiousness.
Edgerton’s little pursed lips actually lifted in a kind of sly smile. “I have many sources.” His gaze dropped from her eyes, to her shoulders to—oh, she could not believe this!—to her breasts where it boldly lingered. “If you’re wise, you will cooperate,” he said, his lecherous gaze still resting on her bosom. “It’s to your advantage, dear Cousin, and who knows? We could even become good friends.”
How dare he! His meaning was obvious. She was so mortified she was beside herself, and at a loss as to what to say. Wanting only to get away from him, she quickly arose and edged toward the door, saying, “Alethea and I will never speak to the Belingtons again, I promise you.”
“Very well, Lucinda,” he answered with a lecherous smile that made her want to throw up.
Without another word, she hurriedly left the room.
* * *
It was not until Lucinda was back in her bed chamber that she realized the import of her newly made promise to Edgerton, and the significance of that lecherous look he gave her. She felt sick, just thinking about any sort of intimacy with Edgerton Linley. She must be careful from now on—make sure she was never alone with him again. As for her promise, it suddenly dawned on her that now, at this very moment, she should be in the woods, on her way to her rendezvous with Lord Belington. Despite trying to convince herself she didn’t care about him, she knew she did care and had looked forward with eager anticipation to seeing him again.
With a moan of distress, she realized she couldn’t go. But at the least she could send him a note, via one of the servants, to let him know she could not keep their rendezvous.
But which servant? After last night, she knew that at least one, and probably more, was spying for Edgerton.
She could not even send a note, she realized with a sinking heart.
Chapter 8
In her canopied rococo bed, Madame Rose Clarisse de Soissons lay spent and satisfied in the arms of Douglas, Lord Belington. At least physically satisfied. As for the rest, the sensual abandon she always felt when making love with Douglas was missing. She wasn’t sure why. She simply sensed something was wrong and she could pretty much guess what it was.
“Who is she?” Rose asked.
Douglas, who had nearly fallen asleep, aroused himself enough to mumble, “What do you mean, who is she?”
There was a pain in Rose’s heart as she lightly replied, “I mean, who was the woman you made love to tonight?”
He pulled her closer. “You, of course.”
In the flickering candlelight, Rose pulled back. She raised herself on one elbow and looked down upon the man who was the object of her hopeless adoration. “There’s someone on your mind, Douglas. You might as well have been on the moon tonight. In fact, every night since you returned from York you’ve been inattentive, with a remote look in your eye. Gambling losses perhaps? Hmm, I don’t think so. Problems at your estate? Highly doubtful. That leaves only one thing, my love.” She bent over him, so close her lips brushed his ear. “It must be a woman.”
Douglas opened his eyes and gazed up at her. When she saw the consternation that lay deep within them, her despair intensified. She must be careful. Her true feelings must never, never show.
“If I didn’t please you tonight, my apolog
ies,” he said.
“Don’t apologize,” Rose lightly replied. “You did your duty. You made love in your usual ardent fashion, as always.” Ironically she added, “It was just to someone else, that’s all.”
Douglas opened his mouth to protest, but Rose touched a finger to his lips. “Don’t deny it, not to me. I know you. You’ve a woman on your mind. She was here in bed with us tonight, It was she whom you kissed and caressed and made love to. It’s a wonder you did not call out her name.”
“Perdition!” Douglas said through gritted teeth. With one fluid motion he flung the covers back and slid from the bed. He started pacing, wrapping a towel around his waist, which was a pity, Rose thought, considering how she loved to let her eyes feast on every gorgeous inch of her lover’s body.
“So what’s her name?” she asked.
“Really, Rose.”
“What’s her name?”
“Lucinda.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his fingers through the tangle of his longish dark hair. “What a quandary I am in. I can’t believe this.”
“Tell me about her,” Rose urged gently.
Douglas closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to envision the girl. “She’s splendidly tall. She has chestnut colored hair, a turned-up little nose, big brown eyes...ah, she’s very pretty, but that’s not the whole of it by far. There’s an air about her that puts her far above those minxes one finds in London. For one thing, she’s intelligent and doesn’t try to hide it. She’s direct. She doesn’t simper.” He slanted a glance at his mistress. “Just like you, Rose. Also, she’s refreshingly honest. More than once she’s set me down”—he cast Rose another glance, this time amused—”much the same as you do.”
“But she doesn’t resemble me in all respects, now does she? I would wager she’s marriageable, whereas I...” Rose shrugged and left the rest unsaid.
“She’s the daughter of a baron.”
“Good enough.” Rose was proud of herself for displaying just the right degree of amiability, thus hiding her growing pain. What a foolish woman she was. Hadn’t she always known that some day her beloved would succumb to Cupid’s arrow? She braced herself for his answer and asked, “Then what’s to prevent you from courting this marvel of a woman and marrying her?”
“I cannot.”
“But why?”
“Where to begin?” he asked, shaking his head. “I have already spoken of the dark curse that hangs over Ravensbrook and that I’ll never marry. Nothing has changed. To make matters worse, Lucinda is currently living in the home of her cousin, who also happens to be the man who hates the Belingtons with a passion. Edgerton Linley is his name. If he could vanquish every Belington from this earth he would do so.”
“For what reason?”
“He thinks he has good cause.” With a bleak, tight-lipped smile, Douglas went on, “Who knows? Perhaps he does.”
“But what of Lucinda? Does she not love you enough to go against her family?” I know I would, Rose thought miserably.
“Not likely. In the first place, we just met and hardly know each other. Second, she had agreed to meet me in the woods but failed to appear.”
“Perhaps she was delayed. Did you wait for her long?”
“Only hours, all the time thinking what a fool I was.”
Rose felt a sudden, instant relief. Perhaps she wasn’t going to lose him after all, at least not for a while. “Well, if she’s so thoughtless and inconsiderate as to not keep your tryst, then it’s best to forget about her, don’t you agree?”
“Of course I should forget about her, and I shall. After all, I’ve only met her twice.” Even in the dim candlelight Rose could see the look of disquiet that came over his face. “Of course I shall forget about her. This isn’t like me.”
No it isn’t, Rose thought glumly. ”That’s what you say, but you give some indication of being well-nigh obsessed with this Lucinda. Are you sure this will be the end of it?”
“Yes, most definitely.” He quirked that little smile that always twisted her heart and playfully tweaked a lock of her hair. “The night’s not over,” he said.
No, indeed, it wasn’t over. Soon he would be making love to Miss Splendidly Tall again, at least in his heart. Rose heaved a secret, inner sigh. That he had fallen in love with Lucinda Linley was obvious, but with the wisdom of her many years of contending with men, she knew it would be best not to say another word.
* * *
“What a charming teapot, Lady Perry,” said Lucinda. She was sitting in Lady Perry’s elegant drawing room where she had been invited for tea.
Lady Perry held up the flowered, Chinese porcelain teapot. “Isn’t it lovely?” She poured the tea with practiced elegance and asked, “Well, Lucinda, has it really been a month since you arrived?”
“A month that has flown by,” Lucinda answered. “I must thank you for inviting me. So kind of you, considering I’m a stranger.”
Lady Perry’s infectious laughter rippled through the air. “Oh, I always love a comfortable coz, and you struck me as someone not boring, which I cannot say for most of the ladies of the countryside. In fact, I knew I’d like you the minute we met. You have some substance to you.”
“I felt the same about you, Lady Perry.”
“Oh, do call me Felicia, and I shall call you Lucinda, if that’s agreeable. I plan a trip to London next month. I’ve an urge to do the shops. Would you like to come along? I’m sure Pernelia would let you go for just a few days.”
Lucinda felt excited. “Why I’d love to. I’ve not visited London since my last Season there, three years ago.”
“Then we’ll do it,” said Lady Perry nodding happily. “Now tell me, how do you like it here in York?”
Lucinda hesitated before she said in her candid manner, “There’s the good and the bad.”
Her hostess smiled and nodded. “Naturally you miss your family.”
That was so true. Sometimes Lucinda felt so homesick, she wanted to just run home. But mostly it was Edgerton with his slashing sarcasm that made life at Southfield almost unendurable. Good manners prevented her from such an admission, though. “I do miss my family, but there’s much to be said for York and staying at Southfield. Alethea is delightful, and Aunt Pernelia is one of the sweetest women I have ever known.”
“Did you know that Pernelia and I were once quite close?” asked Lady Perry. “Did you know we’re the exact same age, only two months apart?”
“Are you serious?” Lucinda was greatly surprised. Her gaze fell upon Lady Perry’s straight posture, fine, unwrinkled skin and clear, bright eyes. “I would have thought you were ten years younger, at the very least.”
Lady Perry smiled ruefully. “Well, I’m not, but that’s nice to hear. It’s nothing to brag about, though. Poor Pernelia. No wonder she looks old before her time. From the day she lost her daughter, her life has never been the same.”
How unusual, thought Lucinda. Everyone involved seem to tippy-toe around mention of the tragedy, as if any talk of it was anathema. Yet, here was Lady Perry referring to it openly. Lucinda searched for something agreeable to say. “I would guess that tragic event brings back sad memories to a lot of people. It’s all so very sad.”
“So true.”
Lucinda was surprised at the melancholy expression that stole over Lady Perry’s face. She so admired this tall, elegant, vibrant woman who dressed to perfection, and who, up until now, had invariably been pleasant and charming, never betraying the slightest negative thought.
“You would have loved Marianne,” continued Lady Perry. “She was a darling little girl. Pernelia has spent years scouring the woods searching for her, but, of course to no avail. I have no children of my own, but even I can see there could be nothing worse than losing one’s own child.” Lady Perry remained silent a moment. She glanced at the ceiling, as if deciding whether or not to say something that was obviously on her mind. “I, too, suffered from the tragedy,” she finally said.
“You did, Fel
icia?” Lucinda wondered how she could possibly have been involved.
“I’m surprised no one told you. You see, I was betrothed to Gregory when Marianne disappeared.”
Lucinda’s mouth almost dropped open, and she had to catch herself. “You were?” she finally managed, “but I thought—”
“You have been told that Gregory was a blackguard and a devil, that he engaged in a dissolute life in London with his drinking, gambling...and the rest.”
“Something like that, yes.”
“What you heard was wrong. Gregory was a kind, considerate, utterly charming man. Oh, true, for a time he sowed a few wild oats in London, but at the time of the tragedy, that part of his life was behind him.” Felicia closed her eyes a moment, as if remembering. “When Gregory fled to France, my heart went with him. My hopes were high, you see. I could never in a million years have believed that Gregory could have committed such a horrible crime, if, indeed, such a crime was committed. In my naive fashion, I firmly believed that eventually everything would be all right. Somehow, some way, Marianne would be found alive and safe, and Gregory would be completely exonerated and come back to me. How foolish!” She shrugged in resignation. “Now I know that such a happy ending only happens in novels. It was never to be. Six months later, I received word that Gregory was dead in Paris. He had committed suicide.”
The Selfless Sister Page 9
