Her father glanced up quickly at her entrance, hope flaring in his eyes. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Father,” she said, walking toward him. “I found nothing.”
Her heart ached as she watched the hope die out of his gaze. He stared at his snifter of half-finished brandy standing on the table next to his chair and said heavily, “Well, you said it was unlikely that he’d keep it where it could be easily stolen.”
She took a seat in the matching chair next to his and said, “We still have time. Caswell seems content to wait to make the announcement.”
“But for how long? We cannot fob him off much longer or we will accomplish the very thing Ormsby is trying to do: end any possibility of a marriage between Caswell and your sister.”
“I think you misjudge the depth of emotion that Caswell feels for Thalia. He is deeply in love, as is she, and I’m certain that he would wait indefinitely for her.”
“I hope to God you are right.” He looked at her sadly. “What was she thinking? What prompted her to be so indiscreet? I cannot believe that a daughter of mine could act so imprudently!” He buried his head in his hands. “If only she had told us about the letters sooner. At least before I gave Caswell permission to court her and she accepted his proposal. I can hardly tell the earl now that I have changed my mind or that Thalia didn’t mean to accept his offer of marriage. What a ghastly tangle.”
Juliana sighed. “I know she should have told us sooner, but she never expected that Ormsby would continue to pursue her once we came to London. I certainly didn’t. I assumed once she’d refused him that he’d retire gracefully from the ranks. Of course we didn’t know about the letters then.” Thoughtfully, she added, “I don’t think anyone was more shocked than Thalia when Ormsby actually proposed. Remember—she was only seventeen, barely out of the schoolroom when she fancied herself in love with him and wrote those letters. What she felt for Ormsby last summer was simply infatuation: her heart wasn’t truly touched. Those letters, while imprudent, were merely the youthful scribblings of an innocent young woman who thought she was in love with an exciting older man.” Her jaw clenched. “If anyone is to blame it is Ormsby. If you will recall he never asked your permission to court her, never once gave a hint what he was about. He presented himself in the guise of our neighbor and friend and laid siege to her behind our backs. Certainly, she should have refused to meet him clandestinely, definitely she should never have written him such passionate letters, but you know very well that he was the one encouraging her improper behavior.” Her lips tightened. “You’ll never convince me that he didn’t know precisely what he was doing.”
“Youthful scribblings!” exclaimed Mr. Kirkwood. “Is that what you think Caswell will believe if Ormsby lays those letters before him?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that they pull Ormsby’s fangs and allow him to do precisely that. She believed that Caswell loved Thalia enough to realize that those letters, those damnably indiscreet letters, consisted of nothing more than the mawkish sentimentality of a naive girl who had fallen for the practiced charm of an older man. The problem was that while Thalia had recovered her senses almost immediately, Ormsby had not. Worse, he had made it unpleasantly clear that he intended to marry her. Juliana grimaced. Despite her own dislike of the man, on the face of it, a match between the marquis and Thalia wouldn’t have been a bad thing. Ormsby was wealthy and titled and it wasn’t uncommon for older men to have much younger brides.
“If Thalia hadn’t fallen in love with Caswell, would you have countenanced a match with Ormsby?” Juliana asked abruptly.
“Good heavens, Juliana, he is nearly my age!” he declared angrily. “And he’s a dissolute rake in the bargain. A dirty dish like Ormsby would certainly have never been on my list of prospective husbands for either one of my daughters, let alone my youngest!” He shook his head. “I bear much of the blame for what has happened. I should never have allowed him to visit the house as I did. I knew his reputation, but I just never thought—” He took a deep breath and muttered, “But to answer your question, if your sister had wanted him…if she had loved him…” He sighed deeply. “I suppose I would have eventually given my permission for them to marry.” Curiosity in his gaze, he glanced at her. “Why do you ask?”
She made a wry face. “Just that it would have made life so much simpler for us if she had fallen in love with him.”
“Never say you’d be happy to see an innocent like Thalia married to a libertine like Ormsby!”
Juliana shook her head. “I’d move heaven and earth to keep it from happening,” she said vehemently. “He is everything you say—a rake and a libertine. No. I would never want to see Thalia married to someone like Ormsby.”
“But what are our choices?” Mr. Kirkwood asked. “Ormsby holds all the cards. If I do not send Caswell packing and give her hand to Ormsby he swears he will give the letters to Caswell or make them public. Either way your sister’s happiness will be ruined. She will be ruined if those letters get out.”
Juliana’s gaze dropped from the desperation in his. Her father’s words were true and unless they could lay their hands on those incriminating letters, Thalia’s future looked bleak. If Caswell rejected her because of the letters, Thalia’s heart would be broken and there would be gossip aplenty. The engagement had not been made public, but everyone was expecting an announcement any day and speculation amongst the ton would run rampant if Caswell and Thalia suddenly went their separate ways. Even if Caswell loved Thalia as much as Juliana believed he did and married her anyway, Thalia still would not be safe. Thwarted, with Thalia lost to him and married to another, Ormsby was quite capable of making the letters public out of spite, and the public consumption of those very private letters would make Thalia the object of stares and whispers. Rank would not save her; many society hostesses would not allow the new Countess of Caswell to step foot in their homes.
Thalia would never marry Ormsby—of that Juliana was certain—but he could still ruin her. Her hands formed into fists. That blasted Ormsby, she thought furiously, he was vicious enough to go ahead and publish the letters just to punish Thalia for refusing him. The bitter fact remained; as long as Ormsby held the letters, Thalia’s future was in his hands.
“What are we to do?” Mr. Kirkwood asked again, breaking into Juliana’s thoughts.
With more confidence than she felt, she said, “What we are going to do is get the letters back!”
“But how?” her father cried, staring at her as if she’d gone mad.
Juliana stood up and shook out the folds of her gown. “I have no idea,” she answered, “but I am sure I shall think of something.” Hiding her own reservations, she smiled at him and said bracingly, “We can do nothing at present and for now I suggest that we do just as we planned and return home at the end of the week. Don’t forget, Mrs. Tilley, her daughter, and the Crawleys and their daughter are coming to visit us at Kirkwood. Once we arrive home, we shall be busy preparing for our houseguests. Caswell and his friends, Mr. Bronson and Lord Hartley, might even arrive ahead of the others. Before long your poor little house will be bursting at the seams.”
“But—” he started to object.
Determinedly she overrode him. “There is nothing we can do about the letters at the moment and I know it is not easy, but if we go around with hangdog faces or suddenly change all of our plans, everyone will know that something is very wrong.” She took a deep breath. “Caswell will simply have to curb his impatience to let the world know that he and Thalia are to be married. And if he presses to make the announcement, we shall just have to fob him off as best we can.” Her eyes hardened. “I’m sure that before too long I shall find a way to get those foolishly written letters of Thalia’s away from Ormsby.”
Bending over, she kissed him on his forehead. “Don’t worry, Father, I shall see to it.”
“Thank you,” he said low. Gruffly, he added, “I know that I shouldn’t lay this on your shoulders and that if I were any kind
of a man, I’d call Ormsby out.”
“Don’t you dare!” she cried, alarmed, the image of her father lying dead on the dueling field flashing before her eyes.
He smiled wearily. “I shan’t. I know from Ormsby’s reputation that it would be certain death for me.” His face hard and determined, he added fiercely, “I would gladly face death if I knew that it would save either one of you.” His eyes, the same whiskey brown as his eldest daughter’s, met hers. “You do know that, don’t you? That I would do anything in my power to protect you?”
She sent him a shaky smile. “Yes, I do, but I don’t think allowing yourself to be slaughtered by Ormsby will help us very much.” Relieved that he wasn’t seriously thinking of challenging Ormsby, she said in a calmer voice, “Leave it to me. I shall bring us about, you’ll see.”
From under her lashes she noted that this trip to London and the anxiety over Thalia’s future had taxed his frail constitution and added new lines, new grooves to his thin, austere features. A shy, retiring man, used to the quiet, routine life in the country, he was out of his element here in the bustle and noise of the city. His whole world revolved around his two daughters and his home, Kirkwood, and Juliana knew that he suffered greatly from his inability to remove the threat to Thalia’s happiness.
When his wife and their mother had been alive, Mrs. Kirkwood had coddled and protected her tall, unassuming husband and doted on her two daughters. They’d been, Juliana thought mistily, a happy family. It had been Mrs. Juliet Kirkwood who had cheerfully run the household and made most of the decisions that affected their lives. Content to leave everything in his wife’s capable hands, Mr. Kirkwood had lost himself in his library and his letters or puttered around the estate, admiring and encouraging the changes his energetic wife had wrought.
To everyone’s shock, it had been the lively, robust Mrs. Kirkwood and not Mr. Kirkwood who had died from a lung infection that had swept through the neighborhood when Juliana had been seventeen and Thalia barely eight. Her death devastated everyone, but especially Mr. Kirkwood, and he wandered through the house and grounds like a dazed person for months afterward as if unable to comprehend the enormity of the tragedy that had struck.
He had never, Juliana knew, recovered from her mother’s death. None of them had, she realized with a pang. She missed her mother unbearably and to this day she still expected the door to fly open and her mother, flushed and smiling from some victory in the garden or over the testy Kirkwood bailiff to come rushing into the room full of her exploits. Now more than ever, Juliana wished for her mother’s calm, sure hand on the reins of their lives. Mother would have known how to handle Ormsby, she thought. Mother wouldn’t have tolerated his threats, she would have boxed his ears and sent him away with his head in his hands. Guilt smote her. Her mother wouldn’t have allowed this situation to happen in the first place. Her mother would have known instantly what Ormsby was about and neighbor or no, marquis or not, she’d have put a sharp stop to his sniffing around Thalia. It is my fault, Juliana admitted painfully. I should have taught Thalia better. Warned her of the dangers. Watched her more carefully. Mother would have and Mother would have also found a way to best Ormsby. Determination flooded through her. And so shall I, she vowed. So shall I!
Juliana’s chin lifted and she said again, “I shall find a way to bring us about safely—never you fear. Thalia will marry her earl and we will beat Ormsby at his own game.”
A smile on his fine mouth, Mr. Kirkwood said softly, “You sound just like your mother. She was always so certain she could overcome whatever odds lay in front of her.”
Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, Juliana brushed another kiss across his forehead and declared, “Well, then we shall just have to follow in Mother’s footsteps, won’t we? She wouldn’t have let Ormsby best her and neither shall we!”
Wearier than she realized, Juliana walked up the stairs to the upper floor. She dreaded the coming conversation with Thalia. Not because Thalia would reproach her or blame her for tonight’s failure but because that unbelievably lovely face would crumple, those lovely icy blue eyes would fill with tears and she would collapse in a convulsive mass of guilt-ridden sobbing that would rip out Juliana’s heart. No one blamed herself more than Thalia for the situation they were in or suffered more greatly. The child is beating herself to death over this and it has to stop, Juliana decided firmly as she paused before the door to her sister’s room.
There was no denying that Thalia had been at fault and Juliana didn’t try to pretend otherwise. While it was indeed Thalia’s fault, Juliana had repeatedly attempted to make Thalia see that it wasn’t entirely her fault. And that the majority of the fault lay squarely at Ormsby’s feet. Even if he intended to marry her, Juliana concluded, he should have never gone about it the way he had. Her eyes narrowed. The sneaky cur knew that Father would never have allowed Thalia to make an alliance before she had even had her first Season and so he had set about cutting the ground from beneath their feet in a most underhanded manner.
Anger burned in her breast when she remembered Sunday evening and Ormsby’s awful visit. When he’d laid the first one of Thalia’s letters before her father and confessed all, he’d been so complacent, so smug, so confident he would leave the room as Thalia’s husband-to-be. He’d been certain that his threat of making the letters public would assure the acceptance of his suit. And it might have, if things had not gone so far with Caswell. If Thalia hadn’t been madly in the love with the earl and if her father hadn’t already given his approval of the match, it was very likely, with Thalia’s letter in front of him, that Mr. Kirkwood would have acceded to the marquis’s demand for Thalia’s hand.
Juliana smiled fiercely. Things hadn’t gone as Ormsby had planned though. Her father had been aghast, but he had coolly told the marquis that his conduct had been reprehensible and that under no condition would he countenance the match. Once Ormsby had snarled his determination to wed Thalia by fair means or foul and stormed from the house, the appalled, tearful interview that followed between Mr. Kirkwood and his two daughters had been most painful. Presently, the relationship between Mr. Kirkwood and his youngest daughter remained just as strained and uncomfortable as it had been that night—he wounded and disappointed and Thalia consumed with guilt and remorse and Juliana unable to help either one of them.
We are all caught in a most damnable coil, Juliana admitted as she opened the door to Thalia’s bedroom.
Her sister leaped to her feet from the chair she had been sitting in when Juliana entered. “F-f-father? Is he still very angry with me?” Her beautiful form hidden beneath a voluminous and virginal nightgown of delicate white cambric, Thalia looked very young and frightened as she stood before Juliana.
Juliana smiled and shook her head. “No, pet, he is not angry with you. He never was. He is angry at the situation.”
“It is all my fault. My fault. I don’t deserve to marry Piers! Oh, I wish I had never been born!”
Flinging herself on the bed, Thalia dissolved into a shaking bundle of misery and sobs. Sinking down onto the bed beside her, Juliana gently rubbed her back, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.
Eventually, Thalia raised tear-drowned eyes to look at her and asked dully, “Oh, Juliana, what are we to do? I cannot marry Ormsby! I hate him. I know I thought I loved him, but I don’t. He’s beastly!” A fearful expression crossed her face. “Father won’t make me, will he?”
“Don’t be silly! Father has no intention of allowing Ormsby to get his way.” She pushed back a tumbled lock of glorious silvery fair hair from Thalia’s forehead. “And when has Father ever made you do anything you didn’t want to do, hmmm?”
Thalia forced a smile. “I know that I am spoiled, but I truly never meant to cause so much trouble.” She looked away. “It was so exciting at the time. I knew it was wrong, but I felt grown-up, adult for the first time. No one had ever paid attention to me the way he did. It isn’t that I didn’t feel loved by you and Father or tha
t you neglected me or anything dreadful like that, but Father is always buried in his books and you are forever rushing about that sometimes I felt like a shadow watching everyone else’s life. Lord Ormsby was interested only in me.” A note of pleading in her voice, she asked, “Do you understand?”
Her every word was a knife blade in Juliana’s heart. Yes, she did understand. They had been involved with their own lives and neither she or her father had realized that Thalia, newly emerged from the schoolroom and eager to try her own wings, had felt isolated and ignored. Ormsby, Juliana thought bitterly, had taken full advantage of the situation.
“I do understand, pet, and I blame myself for this whole affair,” Juliana admitted. “If only I’d—”
“Oh, Juliana, do not! I beg you. It is not your fault. You have been everything that is wonderful. It is my fault! All my fault.” Thalia buried her face in the bedclothes and began to sob again. “It would serve me right if I had to marry Ormsby. I am wicked. Wicked!”
“What you are,” said Juliana calmly, “is a dead bore. All these dramatics and tears. I tell you I don’t believe I’ve ever seen such a Tragedy-Miss—not even on the stage. Wait! Perhaps that’s what you can do—run away and go on the stage.”
Thalia gulped back a half laugh and sat up. “Thank you,” she said, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “You always make me see how silly I am being. What are we to do?” she asked again, echoing her father.
“We are,” Juliana said, rising to her feet, “going to best Ormsby. He has your letters someplace. I intend to find them.”
Awe on her face, Thalia said, “Oh, Juliana, can you?”
Passion Becomes Her Page 3
