They arrived at the steps to the beach, where Clara dismissed the maid, whose look of speculation demanded Clara’s rather forceful, “Oh, look, there is Tessa waiting for me. Thank you, Meg. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Very good, miss,” Meg muttered, before disappearing.
Clara hurried down the steps, stretching out her hands. “Tessa.”
“Oh, Clara! However did you get away?”
She explained, and Tessa nodded, gesturing to an indistinct figure down the far end of the beach. “Benjie is my escort, but he understands I wished to have a private word with you, and he did not wish to intrude.”
Clara swallowed. “That is very thoughtful.”
“He is very thoughtful.”
They walked along the beach, the thousands of tiny stones and sea-washed pebbles making their progression slow at times as pieces landed in their slippers, requiring frequent stops to shake them out. As they walked they talked, Tessa sharing a little about her disappointment with the viscount, before going on to say, somewhat shamefacedly, something of what he had said concerning Miss DeLancey’s own situation.
“But I knew you didn’t feel the same way anymore, so I realized that even if you had once felt that way about Lord Hawkesbury, somehow you had managed to overcome such feelings.” Tessa’s eyes shimmered with unspent tears. “I want to know how, because I cannot seem to shake this feeling. It feels like he is a part of me, living here,” she said, clutching at her breast.
Tessa’s tears forced her to leave aside the intriguing question of just how Tessa knew Clara no longer cared for the earl—had she seen something? Had Mr. Kemsley said something?—to focus on the matter at hand. She placed her shawl on the ground and they sat on it, shoulders touching.
“I did not handle things very well,” she admitted finally. “For a long, long time I was eaten with envy, eaten up with hatred for Lord Hawkesbury and for Lavinia, for I was convinced he had used me to make her jealous. In truth I was so full of pride I did not realize for the longest time that he’d cared for her months before circumstances made me think he cared for me. His mother and mine were friends from years ago and had orchestrated a union without consulting either of us. I’d had a few seasons and thought the earl better than any gentleman I’d come across but had reckoned without him. Loving someone who does not love you in return is a very hard thing to overcome.”
She swallowed. Should she dare be this honest? Oh, why not? She sensed Tessa would respond more to the whole truth than just a partial truth. “When they got married, Lord Featherington was correct, I did not act appropriately and embarrassed myself and the Hawkesburys too many times to remember. That was part of what I apologized to Lady Hawkesbury about at the Seftons’.”
“I knew it must be that!” Tessa cried. “I did not believe you could be arguing with her.”
“But”—Clara swallowed again—“it was not difficult for others to believe, because I … I have not been very kind in the past.”
“Well, you are kind now, and that’s all that matters.”
Clara’s eyes burned. How sweet was this girl? “You did not know me well before. Back before I knew the hope God offers, I had”—she swallowed again—“I had reached the point when I wondered if there was any point in living.”
She heard Tessa’s soft gasp.
“I used to take walks along the top of the cliffs and imagine what it would be like to fall. Would anyone miss me? Would the earl be sorry? I realize now just how prideful and selfish was my thinking, but when I was trapped within myself I could barely see, much less care, about anyone else and how my actions might affect them.”
Tessa clasped her hand, giving Clara courage to continue. “When I was at my blackest, I took a walk on a wild and windy night. I had a game I used to play, where I would lean into the wind and feel its power hold me upright. That night I got too close to the edge.” Tessa’s hand tightened on hers. “Fortunately I was rescued, and in that moment of falling I knew I did not wish to die. Not like that, not before I’d ever really lived.”
“Someone rescued you?”
Should she admit the identity of her rescuer? Wouldn’t it just make Tessa see romance and roses, when such a thing would not benefit either of them? Better let him remain a mystery. She nodded. “A man. I wondered if he might be a fisherman from around here.” It wasn’t a lie. She had wondered that before she knew. Better change the subject, quickly.
“My point is, I despaired because of an absence of hope. I did not realize then just how much God loves us and that His love means we can have hope. It was not long afterward that I met you and Mattie, and through attending services and reading the Bible, I found real hope again. Hope that was not dependent on my circumstances or whether a man loved me or not, but hope that rested on the promises that God loves me regardless of my situation. And if I know that God loves me, if I really know that, then how can I let despair overcome me again?”
She peeked across. Tessa’s red-gold head was bowed, as if in serious thought.
Clara gently squeezed her hand again. “My feelings for the earl disappeared in time. Absence helped, along with praying for God to bless him and his wife and for their marriage to succeed. Praying blessings over those I once considered my enemies seems to have lightened my heart no end.”
“You think I should pray for the viscount?”
“Pray for him and his family, and ask God to take away those feelings which are not beneficial, to help you treat him as you would your brother, if that be what God intends.”
Tessa sighed. “The problem is, my brother and I are quite close.”
Clara caught her glimmering smile. Her heart thumped. “I gather you refer to Mr. Kemsley.”
“Benjie, yes. George, no. I think it difficult for anyone to get close to him. I wonder how Amelia managed it.”
Clara could not answer.
Tessa turned to her, a speculative look in her eye. “So your feelings for the earl have quite passed?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good, for I would hate to think—” The younger girl smiled.
“Hate to think what, Tessa?”
A shadow fell across them. Clara squinted up, the sun’s bright glare making it impossible to see. She peered a moment longer, before her heart thudded wildly. “Mr. Kemsley!”
Ben caught her pinked cheeks before he bowed. “Miss DeLancey, Tessa. I trust you have enjoyed your talk?”
The two ladies looked at each other, sharing a smile that made him wish he knew their secrets. He had his suspicions, but how he prayed Miss DeLancey might one day trust him enough to see him a fit recipient for her confidence.
“Talking with Clara has helped me enormously,” Tessa finally said.
“I’m glad,” he said, words softly echoed by Miss DeLancey.
She looked at him, then ducked her gaze as if embarrassed. His heart hammered. Was she as disconcerted by his presence as he was by hers?
“I am sorry to intrude, but as it’s been nearly an hour, I thought it best to interrupt before your absence is noted.”
“Oh, you are right.” Miss DeLancey looked around. He bent to retrieve her slippers and handed them to her. Her blush deepening in hue, she murmured a thank-you and slipped them on without a word.
Tessa eyed him defensively. “We were warm, and the stones kept getting in.”
“I said nothing.”
“You looked something,” she said, her suspicious pose sliding into a smirk.
Now he needed to hide the heat he could feel crawling up his neck. He extended a hand, helped up his sister, before reaching for Miss DeLancey’s hand.
Her gaze finally met his, her eyes lit with an emotion he could not discern. The hand she gave him was small, delicate, making him wish to hold hers even longer. Once she was on her feet, he refused to let go, pressing his thumb to her gloved palm a moment longer. “Thank you, Miss DeLancey.” He nodded toward Tessa, staring at the glassy sea, and continued quietly, “Your k
indness is appreciated.”
The green eyes widened, then blinked. “You … you are welcome.” She drew her hand away, waiting as he collected her shawl and presented it to her. “Thank you, sir.”
Again, another moment lit with magic flashed between them. She seemed to shimmer with muted joy, with golden possibility, her concern for his sister making her appear even more lovely to him, more serene, more mature somehow. Something jolted inside, the features he had long admired altering fractionally, as if finally providing recognition of the one person he’d waited to meet all his life. His pulse drummed loudly. Perhaps it was just the sparkle of sea, or the heat of the day, but all he wanted was to sail the high seas into the sunset with her.
They walked back to the steps carved in the cliffs, and he helped them both ascend. Not a word passed between them as they turned to walk toward the Royal Crescent; it was as if they’d strolled this way a hundred times before, and nothing needed to be said.
Tessa held his left arm, Miss DeLancey held his right. A sense of contentment washed through him. This was right, was good. All was exactly as it ought—
“Miss DeLancey?”
An older lady accompanied by a foppish young man stopped before them, peering between the three of them. Beside him, he felt Miss DeLancey’s hand tighten, before she slipped it from his forearm and curtsied. “Lady Osterley, Lord Osterley.”
“I must confess to no small element of surprise at seeing you out this afternoon.”
“It is a lovely day,” Clara said. “Much too nice to spend indoors, which must be why you are taking advantage of it, as well.”
“Hmph.” The lady eyed him speculatively, prompting Miss DeLancey to perform the introductions.
“May I present Mr. and Miss Kemsley.”
“Kemsley? I seem to have heard that name before.”
“You probably have,” Clara continued. “Mr. Kemsley captained the Ansdruther, you might recall.” His arm tingled as she returned to rest her hand there and squeezed gently. “He is considered quite the hero.”
She smiled up at him, her eyes lit with gladness, and something—dare he hope?—akin to pride. Suddenly he felt a hundred feet tall, stronger, like he could brave an ocean for her, swim the Channel if she so desired, her smile warming the weary corners of his heart.
The sound of a cleared throat brought his attention back to the gaping pedestrians. Ben offered them a bow. “Forgive me. We must return. No doubt Miss DeLancey requires her rest before her performance at the Pavilion later this week.”
A murmur of goodbyes and they were again on their way.
Tessa squeezed his arm. “You managed her very well, Benjie. I do not think she quite knew what to make of you.”
“I seem to have that effect sometimes.”
Beside him, he heard a smothered giggle from Clara. He looked a question at her; she simply smiled and glanced away.
Upon finally reaching her door they exchanged farewells, and he was able to offer his best wishes for the performance. “I am sure you will dazzle them appropriately.”
“Thank you. I fear I’ve dazzled inappropriately quite long enough, so I hope you are right.”
He laughed, caught her smile, before the door shut between them.
As they returned to West Street, he noticed Tessa’s pleased expression. “So your time together was beneficial?”
“Oh yes! Clara is so kind, was so open.”
Curiosity burned within. He would not ask. He would remain the gentleman.
“I know she would not mind me telling you this, but—”
“Tessa, no—”
“But she is completely over the earl. The to-do with Lady Hawkesbury that Lord Featherington was so adamant about was nothing more than Clara apologizing and the countess offering friendship.”
Something eased within his heart. “I am glad to hear it.”
“I thought you might be,” she said complacently.
He stopped. “What does that mean?”
“Oh, Benjie! It means, when are you finally going to admit your feelings towards her?”
“I have no feelings,” he lied.
She snorted.
“Tessa.”
“Please, Benjie? For your sake, as well as hers. You are so well suited, both so kind to others, sharing faith, and a sense of humor. And you cannot deny that you find her attractive.” She giggled. “Oh, don’t look so embarrassed! Just tell me, what will it take for you to make her an offer?”
He shook his head. “I cannot.”
“Because you have little in the way of finances? But surely you can speak to the Prince Regent. He is newly arrived, is he not? It should not be so very hard.”
“It is not that easy. Besides, it is not only a lack of finances to which her parents would object.”
“You mean you lack a title.”
“Yes,” he gritted out.
She sighed. “I wish you’d been born first. If you had the baronetcy, then maybe they would see sense. And I’d much rather Clara as a sister-in-law than Amelia. I’m sure Amelia is virtuous and all, but she’s not particularly forthcoming. She’d never be so honest as to tell me about—” She clapped a hand to her mouth, looking at him with wide eyes. “I nearly told you.”
“I gathered as much,” he said, smiling.
She frowned a little. “She’d most certainly not want me to mention that.”
He wouldn’t ask. He clenched his teeth. He would not.
They turned the corner into the Steyne and strolled past the Marine Pavilion, already showing signs building work had commenced. They ambled through the lush gardens, past the Dome, the spectacular Moorish structure seemingly more suitable for an oriental temple of worship than for stabling for horses, adorned with fanciful minarets and glass. Little wonder the Prince Regent wanted a magnificent summer palace to match his horse accommodation.
Ben glanced down at Tessa, a study in concentration, biting her lower lip. She peeked up at him. “You remember that very windy night in April when you were out? When you came back, I heard you and Mattie talking.”
He ruffled her bright hair. “I knew you had big ears.”
She shook her head. “You saved someone, didn’t you? Someone on a cliff.”
Despite the sunshine, coldness stole over him.
“You led her to believe it was an old lady you saved.”
“It was a dark, wild night,” he said cautiously. “I could not see clearly.”
“It wasn’t an old lady, was it?”
He paused a long moment, his heart hammering within him. “I believe not, no.”
They turned around the corner. Crossed into King.
“In fact, the lady is quite pretty, isn’t she?”
“I think so, yes.” He didn’t have to ask how she knew. They’d just escorted her home.
Tessa shook her head. “How could she—”
“She was desperate.”
“She’s better now.” Tessa looked at him directly.
He swallowed. “Yes, I know.”
And thinking on all that remained unspoken, they returned home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
FRIDAY ARRIVED, CLEAR and bright. Following Mother’s advice, Clara had forgone a final practice to avoid straining her voice, eaten a light repast—for one never knew what nourishment might be on offer, let alone at what time—and succumbed to the efforts of the hairdresser and Meg, who’d helped her dress, before descending the stairs to the carriage hired for the evening.
Clara caught a glimpse of her reflection in the hall mirror and paused. Was that really her? How long had it been since she felt so beautiful? The muted red of her gown seemed to enhance her coloring; the coral beads at her throat modest, yet of the highest quality. She touched her hair. The hairdresser hired for the evening had done wonders, twirling and braiding her hair into a Grecian style.
“Clara?”
She hurried to join her parents in the carriage, settling her skirts on the seat, smoothing h
er cream gloves around the elbow, admiring again her gown’s ruched silk sleeves that perfectly matched the elegantly trimmed low bodice and hemline. It was not excessively adorned—Father’s finances could only stretch so far, after all—but Madame Sabine knew how to best flatter a lady’s figure, and Clara couldn’t help feel a trace of wistfulness that Mr. Kemsley would not see her look so well.
As the carriage rolled along Marine Parade, nerves tapped within her, her pulse a hurried patter in her veins. She held her reticule tightly. What would tonight hold?
“Now, there is no need to be nervous, my dear. Just remember, the Prince holds great fondness for music, which naturally extends to those who are able to execute music well. You only need to play as well as you have in the past, and you will succeed most admirably.”
“I will try.”
Her mother nodded, eyeing her as light flickered from the oil lamps lining the road. “I must say, you are in your best looks tonight, my dear.”
“Thank you, Mother.” She savored the compliment. Mother’s praise was hard won.
“Now just remember to smile, and flatter the Prince. It never does for one to return a compliment too slowly.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Clara exchanged amused looks with her father, whose contribution to tonight had consisted chiefly of financing their gowns. His interest lay more in seeing the Pavilion, whose interiors were said to be a spectacle worth admission as much as any tourist destination such as London’s Tower.
The carriage turned into the Steyne, then rounded a corner into a long graveled drive, then slowed as they joined the queue of carriages. The footman descended, was now opening the door. Father exited first, then Mother, then Clara.
A swirl of evening air lifted the scent of roses and lilies from the gardens. Ahead of her, in the porte cochere, a scarlet-clad footman stood at the double doors, waving them to follow the other guests up the shallow steps and inside.
She paused on the threshold, eyes widening in wonder.
The reception room was octagonal in shape, with a ceiling plastered to resemble the sumptuous interior of a tent. A painted Chinese-style glass lantern hung from the ceiling, emitting a soft glow to the peach-blossom walls. Scattered around the sides were several chairs, also of Oriental design. Conscious of those behind her, she hurried forward, joining her parents as they presented the gilt-edged, engraved card of invitation. If this was merely the entrance chamber, what exotic decadence lay beyond?
The Dishonorable Miss DeLancey Page 20
