B006DTZ3FY EBOK (12 page)

He searched her eyes and saw that she was serious. His brows knitted in consternation.
“B
ut that
’
s rubbish. I know we haven
’
t had a chance to become well acquainted. But whatever has sprung up between us is real. It can
’
t be set aside. It can
’
t be ignored.
”

“T
hen it must be forgotten.
”
             

“I
tried for three years to forget it.
”
He spoke with unaccustomed vehemence.
“D
idn
’
t you?
”

She closed her eyes against the pain.
“Y
es,
”
she whispered. She sighed again, rubbing her forehead tiredly.
“W
hat a shambles I
’
ve made of my life.
”

Down the passage a door opened, spilling light and sound into their sanctuary. Lady Ballymere emerged, peering about like Diogenes, lamp in hand. When she saw
Cynthia
and Derek sitting side by side in the darkness,
apprehension
flitted across her features.
“
Cynthia
? Are you unwell?
”

Derek rose politely.
“I
found her leaning against the wall a moment ago,
”
he said.
“I
thought she should sit down. But I think she
’
s better now.
”

“Y
es,
”
said
Cynthia
, a bit unsteadily.
“T
hank you, Mr. Whittaker.
”
She allowed him to help her rise.

“G
ood heavens.
”
Lady Ballymere
’
s eyes darted suspiciously from
Cynthia
’
s pale face to Derek
’
s, and back again.
“G
ood heavens,
”
she repeated, moving forward to take her daughter
’
s arm.
“M
y poor darling.
”
She touched
Cynthia
’
s forehead with the inside of her wrist, checking for fever.
“I
wondered earlier if you felt unwell.
”

“J
ust a touch of headache, Mama. Perhaps I should go upstairs and lie down.
”

“C
ertainly, my love. An excellent idea.
”
Lady Ballymere pulled
Cynthia
gently away from Derek, then glanced over her shoulder at him. The temperature in the passage instantly seemed to drop ten degrees.
“I
wonder if you would make our excuses for us, Mr. Whittaker.
”

He bowed.
“O
f course. I hope Lady
Cynthia
feels better by morning.
”

“I’
m sure I will be myself again,
”
said
Cynthia
tonelessly.
             

Derek caught her hidden message. Feeling better, and feeling like herself again, were not necessarily the same thing. Perturbed, he watched them head for the stairs, Lady Ballymere holding the lamp high and guiding
Cynthia
’
s steps with a firm arm round her waist.

How strange. He had confessed his love, and had been told that his love was returned. This should be a joyous moment. And yet his predominant mood was one of disquiet. He didn
’
t like the way that
Cynthia
allowed her mother to lead her. There was something passive and listless about it. Something that he knew, instinctively, boded ill for him.

As he watched
Cynthia
ascend the stairs, each slow step she took moved her farther and farther out of his reach. The light went with her, and Derek was left alone in a place that seemed darker and colder than before.

Chapter
7
             
             
             
             

“D
rink your chocolate, my love.
”
Lady Ballymere, her dressing gown billowing round her, sank onto the spindle-legged chair near
Cynthia
’
s window. The morning sun streamed in behind her, bathing her daughter
’
s bed in a blinding light.

Cynthia
winced, shading her eyes with one hand.
“I
t
’
s terribly bright this morning. Mama, would you mind
—
?
”

Lady Ballymere hesitated, tapping one nail on the arm of her chair.
“V
ery well,
”
she said at last. She rose and, with obvious reluctance, drew the draperies back across the window.
“A
lthough I think the sunshine might do you good.
”

Cynthia
felt she had scored a small victory. Being forced to face her mother, pinned by harsh light while Mama sat with her own face shadowed, would have definitely put her at a disadvantage. She relaxed against her high-piled pillows and sipped obediently at the edge of the porcelain cup.
“T
hank you, Mama.
”

Lady Ballymere returned to her chair. Now that
Cynthia
was no longer blinded by the undraped window, she saw that her mother appeared unusually tense. When she spoke, her voice was taut.
“I
trust you are feeling well enough to face the day?
”

“Y
es, Mama.
”

“I
am glad to hear it.
”
Her fingernail tapped rhythmically against the chair arm.
“Y
ou worried me yesterday.
”

“I
am sorry, Mama. It was nothing. I was just a trifle out of sorts.
”

“I
t was not your headache alone that worried me.
”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“I
f you are truly feeling better, I feel I must speak to you. I hesitate to voice my concerns,
Cynthia
. I hope I am mistaken.
”

Cynthia
felt her pulse jump.
Here it comes.
She said nothing and kept her eyes firmly on the cup and saucer she held, refusing to alter her docile expression.

“I
t seems to me that Mr. Whittaker, in the brief time he has been here,
has
... well, I hardly know how to put this. He has not taken liberties, precisely. At least, I hope he has not.
”
Lady Ballymere paused, one eyebrow delicately raised.

She was plainly inviting
Cynthia
to confirm or deny this. When
Cynthia
said nothing, her mother
’
s expression darkened.
“W
ell. Be that as it may, it seems odd that within the space of a few short hours he managed, first, to take you up before him on his horse. And, second, to seclude himself with you in a darkened passage. Very odd indeed.
”
When
Cynthia
still said nothing, her voice became sharp.
“I
hope you will put my mind at ease,
Cynthia
, and tell me that these incidents were coincidental.
”

“T
hey were coincidental, Mama.
”

“W
ere they harmless?
”

“Y
es, Mama.
”

“H
e took no liberties?
”

Indeed, he had taken no liberties.
Cynthia
had given freely.
“N
one, Mama.
”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Lady Ballymere looked far from satisfied.
“I
must take your word for it, of course,
”
she said peevishly.

“T
hank you, Mama.
”

Her meekness was not producing the desired effect. Lady Ballymere looked even more dissatisfied.

“
Cynthia
, I wish you would be open with me,
”
she exclaimed, pressing her palms together for emphasis.
“W
e have had this discussion before. I thought you understood that we cannot afford to take you to London, Season after Season, with no results. It is imperative that you marry
this year.
”

“I
know it, Mama.
”

“V
ery well. Then you also know that we must, we absolutely
must
, guard your reputation. You cannot allow even the
appearance
of impropriety. The slightest whisper of gossip would be fatal.
”

Cynthia
almost choked on her chocolate. She replaced the cup carefully in the saucer, trying not to laugh aloud.
“M
ama, it is far too late to fret over that, surely? I have been the target of malicious gossip for years. Since I first made my curtsy, in fact.
”

“P
ooh. The gossip you speak of is the type that arise
s from jealousy
,
”
said Lady Ballymere scornfully.
“I
do not regard it. A girl with your degree of beauty must always cause a sensation. That is not the sort of gossip I fear. If anything, it
adds
to a man
’
s interest in you.
”

“I
t has been hard to endure, nevertheless,
”
said
Cynthia
. Her voice was quiet, but steady.
“A
nd
—
forgive me
—
I do not agree that the gossip about me is idle talk. Nor do I think its source is jealousy. Not all of it, at any rate.
”

“W
hat do you mean, child?
”

“I
did not underst
and, at first. All the whispers
and the stares. I did not know what I had done to bring such censure down upon my head. But now that I have been abroad in th
e world a trifle, I realize how
... how
inappropriate
some of our choices have been.
”
             
             

Lady Ballymere shifted restlessly in her chair.
“N
onsense. Do not try to change the subject,
Cynthia
. We are speaking of Mr. Whittaker. I am cautioning you to keep him at a distance.
”

The saucer had begun to tremble in
Cynthia
’
s hand. She set it on the bedside table before the rattle of the teacup could betray her agitation. She was conscious of an impulse to speak her mind, for a change. Did she dare? Her mother had asked her to be more open. Very well. She would try a little openness, and see how Mama liked it.

“I
am not changing the subject,
”
she said, trying not to sound defiant. It went against the grain, to contradict Mama.
“W
e are speaking of the dangers of gossip. You told me I must avoid the
—
what did you call it?
—
the appearance of impropriety.
”
She took a deep breath.
“I
am saying that, in my opinion, we have given the appearance of impropriety for the past three years. And especially during my first Season.
”

Lady Ballymere goggled at her.
“W
hat, in heaven
’
s name, are you saying?
”

She wished she could stop trembling. What she was about to say had bothered her for so long! It was high time she said it aloud. She
must
say it aloud. It was childish, it was cowardly, to feel such morbid dread of incurring her mother
’
s displeasure.

“M
ama,
”
she said carefully,
“I
understand why you thought it necessary to bring me out at seventeen. I realize the exigencies of our financial situation. In hindsight, however, I think it was wrong to dress me so frequently in gauze and tiffany. I must tell you, I believe many of the gowns you had made up for me were immodest. Almost
indecent
.
”

Surprise held Lady Ballymere silent for a moment. She blinked once. Twice.
“I
t was the fashion,
”
she said at last.

“N
ot, I think, for very young girls.
”

But her mother
’
s moment of feeling nonplused was over. She rallied, waving a dismissive hand.
“O
ne must follow the mode. Would you have me dress you like a dowd? I think not. Trust me, love, your innocence shone through. And even in your first Season, your conduct was irreproachable.
”

“O
h, exemplary! My behavior was so circumspect, in fact, that I became known as the Frost Fair.
”
Cynthia
looked ironically at her mother.
“Y
ou know of that nickname, do you not?
”

Lady Ballymere seemed to be hiding a smile.
“I
t came to my attention once or twice,
”
she admitted.

“I
adopted the guise early, and maintained it in part because I was still a child, and unsure of myself,
”
said
Cynthia
softly.
“A
nd in part to defend myself against the impression created by my gowns.
”

“P
ooh!
”
scoffed Lady Ballymere.
“W
hat a to-do about nothing. The soubriquet did you no harm. In fact, my love, I can tell you now that my choice of style for you was deliberate.
”
She sat up, growing animated as the discussion shifted to matters of dress.
“I
own, I still think it was an inspired choice! The combination of your Nordic coloring, your extraordinary beauty, the revealing clothes, and your naturally off-putting manners
—
well! I cannot but think that we owe your success to the juxtaposition of these elements.
”

Cynthia
stared, amazed, as her mother
’
s eyes grew dreamy.
“Y
ou were very lovely,
”
Lady Ballymere explained.
“B
ut you had a great deal of natural reserve. Had we dressed you just as all the other young girls were dressed, you might have been overlooked. I could not take that chance.
”
She laughed gently.
“I
t
’
s astonishing how much of a woman
’
s appeal is determined by her personality. Many of the females who pass for beauties are no such thing! They merely have charm. You, my dear
Cynthia
, have true beauty.
”

“B
ut no charm,
”
said
Cynthia
woodenly. Was this what her mother thought of her?

Lady Ballymere made a little moue of disagreement.
“I
did not say you had
no
charm. But you lack vivacity.
”

“I
see.
”
She took a breath to steady herself.
“S
o, in order to stand out from the crowd, I had to reveal as much of my body as possible.
”

No wonder she had attracted the notice of every rake in town. The painful truth grew clearer every moment. Her mother had dressed her like a doll, and then set her out as bait for men who wanted a pretty toy.

Lady Ballymere prattled on, seeming oblivious to her daughter
’
s growing horror.
“M
ind you, I could not have put you in those clothes
—
beautiful as you were in them
—
if you
were
vivacious. That would have created a very
‘
off
’
impression. But since your demeanor was so perfect, so utterly unapproachable ...
”
She shrugged lightly.
“Y
ou took your rightful place among the most sought-after females in London.
”