He shrugged, wondering at her quixotic mood. “They’re members of the ton. I’ve known them for years.”
“How well?”
“Why the inquisition?”
“I was merely trying to discover the acceptable parameters for behaviour in good society. When, for example, may a gentleman kiss another gentleman’s wife?”
“He cannot, other than in the most chaste way, such as I would kiss Clarissa.”
“I see. Thank you. And so you would never kiss another gentleman’s wife’s lips?”
“Certainly not!”
“Not even one as beautiful as Lady Towbridge?”
Realization came crashing down on him. “Ah, that’s what this has been about. You observed me with Angelica last night? It was you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“There’s a perfectly rational explanation.”
“I have no wish to hear it. It means nothing to me.”
“You’ve spent the last twenty-four hours flirting with every man available and making a thorough cake of yourself because you saw one innocent kiss — ”
“Innocent? Huh!” She cut him a scathing glance that told him more than he cared to know about the workings of her mind.
“One innocent kiss between old friends, and yet, rather than simply asking me for an explanation, you prefer to risk your very reputation? My, my, Saskia, I’m delighted to discover that you hold me in such high esteem.” The remnants of his anger from the previous evening spilled over, making his tone more acerbic than he’d intended. The abject look on her face twisted and tore at his insides, causing his anger to dissipate as quickly as it had arrived. He’d hurt her by laying her jealousy open to his disdain. He hated himself at that moment, wondering what it was about her that made him act in such a crass manner. “Saskia, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to — ”
She stood and looked down at him as he belatedly rose in her wake. Unshed tears rimmed her eyes, but she twisted her parasol over her shoulder, using it to shield her face from his view. Then, shrouded in a quiet dignity that won his immediate admiration, she walked away from him in the direction of the house.
Felix watched her go, knowing it would be useless to pursue her. How could he have behaved so clumsily? Instead of taking the opportunity to say the things that were in his heart, he’d adopted an opposite stance, mocking her inexperience and emphasising the social chasm between them. She hadn’t even given him an opportunity to explain about Angelica. Not that he could have explained…not really…
But still, that wasn’t the point.
Frustrated beyond reason, Felix thumped his hand against the bench and roundly cursed the whole of womankind. He enjoyed the pain which shot through his injured arm. It suited his mood perfectly and was no more than he deserved.
Chapter Sixteen
SASKIA STORMED INTO THE HOUSE, too angry to care that she slighted some of her fellow guests by ignoring their invitation to join them for tea. She disregarded their startled expressions, and did not even care that Lady Western was wearing a smug, “I-told-you-so-but-what-else-could-you-expect-given-her-background?” sort of expression as she watched her less than welcome guest commit several social faux pas simultaneously.
As soon as she reached the sanctuary of her chamber, she flung her bonnet on the bed, attempting to rein in her raging temper and think more rationally about what had just occurred. It was true that Felix had saved her from herself. She accepted that much. How could she seriously have believed Snelling’s story of the badger set? Now that she thought about it, it did sound rather ridiculous. She now understood the smirks that had passed between the gentlemen present when Lord Snelling had first mentioned the matter and she’d expressed so keen an interest. Felix was right. She’d been a trusting fool. She could still hear the taunting lilt in his voice as he had goaded her, “Badgers are nocturnal; surely you were aware of that?” The memory prompted a string of most unladylike epithets, all directed at his arrogant superiority. That he happened to be in the right didn’t excuse his high-handed attitude, or the withering condescension in his tone.
She’d been pleased when he followed her to the edge of the woods, aware that he was there long before he took her elbow. She didn’t need to be able to see him in order to detect his presence. Somehow she just felt him, somewhere deep within her, whenever he was near. But her pleasure evaporated when she observed the wrathful expression on a bruised face that was twisted with anger.
Saskia paced the room, allowing her indignation free rein. What gave him the right to treat her so disrespectfully? He was not her keeper. She was sure she would have been able to handle Lord Snelling without his interference. Too fired up now to still accept that he’d saved her from ruin, Saskia mutinously placed the blame squarely at Felix’s door. How dare he tell her not to flirt, after the way she’d seen him behaving?
Thoughts of Felix and Angelica Priestley brought her up short. Her anger drained away, and was replaced by a mood of bitter reflection and deep melancholy. She’d developed a tendre for Felix; she had known it since he insisted that she and the twins leave Swyre. No one had ever sought to protect her so determinedly before, and such action couldn’t fail to make a deep impression. After she’d left him alone to face her father, she tried to convince herself that it was merely concern for his safety that was causing her such unease, but she was now ready to admit the truth. Although far too level-headed to believe that anything could ever come of her feelings for Felix, seeing him paying court to another woman — and a married one at that — had been more than her heart could endure. That he couldn’t possibly comprehend her true feelings was her only source of comfort. Knowing he could never be hers was punishment enough. At least let her be left with her dignity intact.
Saskia threw herself onto the bed and fell into a troubled doze. She was woken by Lizzie, the young kitchen-maid Lady Western had reluctantly allocated to look after her, when she recovered from the shock of discovering that Saskia had no maid of her own. Lady Western had spitefully appointed the youngest and newest girl in the house, presumably thinking that Lizzie would be incapable of turning Saskia out to her best advantage. In that, however, she’d seriously miscalculated, for Lizzie was delighted to be given this unexpected opportunity to play lady’s maid. She loved beautiful clothes and seemed to know instinctively how to make the best of them, adding clever and unusual accessories that Saskia herself would never have considered. She looked after Saskia’s meagre collection of gowns lovingly and was good at dressing hair, but thus far she’d been unable to persuade Saskia to any elaborate style.
Well, Saskia decided, as she gratefully sipped the scalding tea Lizzie had thoughtfully woken her with, tonight would be different. If Felix thought her to be an irresponsible flirt, then she wouldn’t disappoint him.
Clarissa had persuaded Saskia to purchase two further day dresses and one lovely evening gown as soon as she arrived at Western Hall. She’d been saving the evening gown until Felix joined the party, foolishly hoping to make a favourable impression upon him. It was of the finest pale pink silk, which somehow managed to enhance her hair colouring rather than clashing with it. It was woven with strands of gold, which reflected the light from all angles as she moved. The bodice was cut daringly low, and Saskia would never have countenanced such attire, had Clarissa not been there to persuade her that if she couldn’t wear such a bodice then nobody could. They’d laughed together, and suddenly it seemed all right. The tiny sleeves just capped the tops of her arms, and the bodice was cinched tight beneath her breasts with a curling gold ribbon. The skirts fell straight and floated about her as she moved, ending in flounces of gold, before tapering at the back to a small train.
Lizzie had looked hopefully at the gown each evening, but Saskia had just smiled and shaken her head. Tonight, however, was different. She would wear it, and Felix could think whatever he chose.
“Will you trust me to dress your hair for you, madam?”
“Yes, Lizzie, do
whatever you think best.”
Half-an-hour later Saskia looked in the full-length pier glass and didn’t recognize the elegant image that was reflected there. For a ridiculous moment she thought that another person must be in the room, wearing the same gown. This other lady also had red hair, but it couldn’t be her, for this one had her tresses piled high, with gold ribbons Saskia had never seen before entwined elaborately within the curls, and long ringlets falling about a lovely face that shone with expectation.
“Lizzie.” Saskia smiled at the nervous expression on her little maid’s face. “You’re a miracle worker!”
Lizzie beamed, handed Saskia her fan, and dropped a respectful curtsey.
Saskia made sure she was late entering the drawing-room. If she was going to do this, then she might as well do it properly. She would make a grand entrance. The only problem was that the drawing-room doors were open to the terrace, and the evening was so fine that everyone was already outside. She rolled her eyes. So much for making an entrance!
But all was not lost. As she paused in the doorway to the terrace, one of her admirers happened to turn in her direction and exclaimed with pleasure. Slowly, every head turned her way, and a hush descended. Saskia attempted an impervious expression but knew she was blushing furiously. Flaunting oneself was obviously not as simple as other ladies made it appear, but determined not to be intimidated, she plastered a smile on her lips and dropped a deep curtsey for Lord Snelling’s benefit.
Almost to a man the gentlemen moved toward her to offer compliments. Almost all, but not quite. The one gentleman in whom she was most interested remained just where he was, speaking with Clarissa and Luc. She knew he’d seen her because she’d been watching him closely from beneath her lashes, and had the satisfaction of observing his surprise and, she felt certain, a spark of appreciation at her appearance. She was no longer so sure, though, because he was totally ignoring her now, carrying on an animated conversation with his back toward her.
Saskia hid her devastation beneath a round of blatant flirting, thinking all the while that her heart would break. She knew she could never look better than she did tonight; if her best efforts were insufficient to make any impression upon the suave Viscount Western then any foolish, lingering hopes she might secretly still harbour as to his partiality for her were well and truly dashed. She accepted her third glass of champagne in half-an-hour and turned to Lord Carstairs, a dazzling smile on her lips as he recounted the particulars of some salacious escapade for her entertainment.
Tonight’s proceedings lacked the previous customary formality, and the gentlemen were free to escort whomsoever they wished in to dinner. Saskia cynically assumed that Felix’s mother had relaxed her vigil because matters between her son and Lady Maria had been privately settled. The pain that this expectation produced was crippling, but determined not to permit it to show, she took comfort from the fact that every unattached gentlemen in attendance was now surrounding her, each one noisily proclaiming that only he should be entrusted with her care. Saskia smiled at them, not caring in the least which one she selected, but already deciding that it might as well be Lord Snelling, if for no other reason than to vex Felix, when she sensed a familiar presence at her side.
Felix bowed and offered her his arm. “I believe the honour is to be mine, Mrs. Eden,” he said, his face devoid of the prerequisite smile.
The other gentlemen grumbled, but good-naturedly gave way to their hostess’s son. He appeared so confident that she would accept him that she was, for a moment, devilishly tempted to turn her back to him and accept Lord Snelling instead. He was the only one of her admirers not to have ceded his place at her side in deference to Felix. But no, even she wouldn’t dare defy him so flagrantly in front of the entire company, especially after all he’d endured in bringing her father to justice. Still, his arrogant manner was most irksome, and she made a point of hesitating before placing her hand on his proffered arm. She didn’t utter a single word in response to his presumptuous request, nor did she offer him so much as a ghost of a smile.
This elegant rake, whose complex personality she couldn’t fully comprehend, never failed to surprise her. He did so once again as he leaned toward her, his mood switching without warning from morose to mellow, the expression in his eyes soft and full of approval. He spoke quietly so that only she could hear him.
“You look stunningly beautiful this evening,” he said. This time he did smile his appreciation — that raffish smile of his that caused her heart to flip in a most disconcerting manner. He must have sensed her confusion, for he spoke again in an even softer voice. “Am I forgiven?” he asked her so humbly that she had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing aloud.
A mixture of relief and happiness flooded her. She tried to look stern, but it was no good. She just couldn’t resist his charm. He was a curious combination of penitence and devilment, and for the next couple of hours she would have him more or less to herself. She couldn’t bring herself to ruin that time by indulging in pettiness or sulking. Such behaviour wasn’t in her nature. She would simply enjoy his company and not concern herself with his reasons for singling her out.
“The incident is entirely forgotten, but,” she added reprovingly, something preventing her from absolving him altogether, “I am now fully on my guard, so there was no necessity for you sacrifice your evening by escorting me.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re quite mistaken.”
“I am?”
“Certainly, since there’s no sacrifice involved.”
“Ah, you say that now, but you might live to regret your decision.”
He smiled at her. “You don’t frighten me. Besides, you’re my responsibility and I’ll have you know that I’m a slave to duty.”
“How tiresome for you,” she said, trying not to laugh.
“Indeed.” He grinned roguishly.
“Let us hope, then, for both our sakes, your mother has a short dinner planned for this evening.”
“I fear that must be a vain hope,” he said with a capricious smile as he held a chair for her a good distance away from his mother’s position at the foot of the table.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, seemingly unaware of his mother’s ferocious stare. “Some wine, m’dear?”
Saskia was already feeling giddy, partly due to the large amount of champagne she’d consumed, but also due to another kind of intoxication, the kind that came in a superbly fitted black coat, blue-striped silk waistcoat, and pristine buckskin breeches. The kind that had melting brown eyes and a wretchedly enticing smile. She nodded mutely, unable to divert her greedy gaze from his features.
Felix waved the hovering footman away and poured the wine himself. She observed his long, elegant fingers, as they wrapped themselves around the bottle and shuddered as she imagined them caressing her skin, as they’d done once before. For a moment she was mesmerised by the thought, but shook it off and made an effort to face him with equanimity. Far too many of the ladies at this house party spent their hours following him dreamily with their eyes. She had no intention of behaving so transparently.
They were seated with Luc and Clarissa, and Saskia was reminded once again just how comfortable the two elegant, aristocratic men were with one another. Luc was ribbing Felix about his injured face, declaring that his looks had improved as a consequence. Clarissa tapped her husband’s arm playfully and told him to behave.
“He’s just enjoying himself because he’s more handsome than you for once, Felix.”
“My dear, you wound me.” Luc grinned, a devilish light in his eye. “But what is your opinion, Mrs. Eden? Do you not agree that Felix owes the man who inflicted his injuries a debt of gratitude?”
“Indeed I do, my lord,” she said with spirit, casting a mischievous sideways glance at Felix. “He looks rather like a gipsy. Perhaps it’s his intention to set a new fashion?”
“That is indeed what I int
end.” Felix leaned toward her, sporting that familiarly wicked smile of his. “What say you? Shall we run away together, join the gipsies, and live a bohemian life?”
“Not this week, my lord, for I fear I have more pressing engagements. But pray don’t let me deter you; I’m sure that Josh would be delighted to accompany you. He seems to have developed a marked preference for purely boyish pursuits since being admitted to your company.”
“So I should hope! Ah well, if you’re heartless enough to deny me my simple request, then I suppose I shall have to seek another companion to join me in my adventures.”
“Lady Towbridge, perhaps?” Saskia suggested sweetly, causing Felix to choke on his wine and Luc to grin broadly.
When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies, it was immediately obvious to Felix that his mother was not to be outwitted for a second time. The opportunity to escort Saskia into dinner had been as welcome as it had been unexpected. His mother’s disapproval had been easy to ignore, a small price to pay for the pleasure of having her to himself for a few hours and the opportunity to repair their faltering relationship.
Dinner had passed far too quickly for Felix’s liking. Sitting with Luc and Clarissa, Saskia at his side in that becoming gown, had seen the restoration of his good humour. He’d put his best efforts into entertaining her, doing all he could to drive any lingering thoughts of the other men in the room from her head. By the time the ladies left the table she was laughing with him as naturally as she’d done in Swyre.
To Felix’s eye, and to that of every other gentleman in the room unless he mistook the matter, Saskia had never looked lovelier. When she had appeared on the terrace, wearing that revealing gown, his first reaction had been instinctively appreciative. It was replaced by annoyance when he saw the effect it had upon the rest of the assembly. Still, he would have overcome that had she but looked in his direction and made some effort to apologise for her abrupt departure that afternoon. He thought he’d made her see the folly of her ways, but instead of thanking him she stormed off in a high dudgeon.
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