B006DTZ3FY EBOK (37 page)

Mr. Ellsworth was turning very red. The dastard! Why would he look so embarrassed, were he not guilty? He
was
guilty. She knew he was! Yet somehow, some way, he had managed to wriggle free of the trap she had so carefully set. Lady Ballymere felt her nails dig painfully into her palms as hot rage swept through her, sickening her. She rounded on him, livid.

“P
ray finish your sentence,
”
she hissed.
“Y
ou were about to say, were you not, that the orangery is where
you
went to meet Lady
Cynthia
last night. Well?
”
Her voice rose to a challenging pitch.
“W
ell, sir? What have you to say for yourself?
”

Mr. Ellsworth
’
s eyes looked ready to pop from his head.
“I
?
”
he gasped.
“M
eet Lady
Cynthia
? Good heavens, madam. No!
”
He shook his head so earnestly that his hair came dislodged and flopped across his brow.
“W
hy, it never entered my head
—
bless me! Meet
Lady
Cynthia
?
Good God!
”

“H
ow dare you deny it?
”
she cried, nearly hysterical.
“I
saw
you!
”

The instant the words were out of her mouth, she realized she had given herself away. She had revealed, without thinking, that she had known all along where
Cynthia
was
—
and had believed Mr. Ellsworth to be with her.

An electric silence fell. All eyes were on her
—
accusing, condemning, horrified. Lady Ballymere sank abruptly back into her chair, pressing her napkin tightly to her mouth. For a moment, she was sure she was about to faint dead away. Then she
wished
she would faint. It would be a huge relief to faint. But apparently a swoon could not be had for the asking. She did not faint.

Derek Whittaker stepped forward, his arm around
Cynthia
.
“I
t was I whom you saw, Lady Ballymere,
”
he said quietly.
“I
t was I who met your daughter in the orangery.
”

Confusion swirled in her brain, but she said nothing. She was afraid to speak, for fear she would say something dreadful again. What could she say? She could not ask how, or why, Mr. Whittaker had known
Cynthia
would be there. Had Mr. Ellsworth told him? It was impossible to understand, but she could not ask questions without exposing herself further. But Mr. Whittaker was speaking again.

“L
ady
Cynthia
and I might have met for a few minutes only. It
’
s hard to know, now, what
would
have happened. But when we tried the door, we discovered it was locked.
”
He looked solemnly around the room.
“S
omeone locked us in.
”

The eyes had all turned back to Lady Ballymere. She felt their gazes burning on her skin. She could barely speak under the weight of embarrassment she felt.
“P
erhaps,
”
she croaked, then swallowed and began again.
“P
erhaps it was an accident.
”

“P
erhaps,
”
said Mr. Whittaker quietly. It was obvious he believed otherwise.
“A
t any rate, Lady Ballymere, the damage has been done. Your daughter and I spent the entire night there. Locked in the orangery. Alone.
”

Despair wracked her. Ruined!
Cynthia
had been compromised, but by the wrong man. Oh, what would she do? What
could
she do?

Her eyes lifted, pleadingly, to Mr. Ellsworth
’
s face, mutely begging him to save the day. She longed to hear the words so much, they almost rang in her ears:
Allow me to intervene, Lady Ballymere,
she imagined him saying.
I would be honored to have Lady
Cynthia
as my wife.
But Mr. Ellsworth
’
s expression as he looked at her was redolent of disgust. A wave of bitter shame washed over her as she realized that he knew nearly as much as
Cynthia
and Mr. Whittaker about what she had done. And, probably, he understood why she had done it.

Her gaze traveled, painfully, to Sir Peter and Lady Ellsworth. They were staring at her as if she had metamorphosed before their eyes into some sort of reptile. And they, unlike their son, did not know about the notes she had written. They did not know the trick she had pulled. What would they think of her, once they knew the whole? She could not flatter herself that her machinations would remain a secret. Mr. Ellsworth would, naturally, confide the details to his parents. How many others would learn of her shame? The story was too juicy to resist. It would, inevitably, be repeated.

Oh, this was ghastly. It was not
Cynthia
who had been ruined. It was she, far more than her daughter, whose reputation lay in shreds.

The duke spoke again. His voice was stern and cold.
“M
r. Whittaker, do I understand you aright? Have you compromised this blameless girl
—
a guest in my house?
”

“I
have, Your Grace,
”
said Mr. Whittaker calmly.
“T
hough it was not my intention to do so.
”

The duke drew himself upright, glaring balefully.
“Y
our intentions may go hang, sirrah,
”
he snapped.
“Y
ou will right this wrong you have done. You will offer marriage to Lady
Cynthia
.
”

“Y
es, Your Grace.
”
Mr. Whittaker let go of
Cynthia
long enough to bow very low.
“W
ith the greatest pleasure imaginable.
”

Panic stirred again in Lady Ballymere.
“N
o,
”
she said feebly. She was shaking so hard now that her teeth began to chatter.
“M
r. Whittaker, th-that won
’
t be ne-necessary,
”
she rapped out, but got no further.

“O
f course it is necessary,
”
said the duke irascibly.
“G
ood God, woman, look at them! I never saw a more guilty pair in my life. Mr. Whittaker knows the rules. He will abide by them, by thunder, or I shall personally show him the door
—
family member or no.
”

Mr. Whittaker placed one hand on his heart.
“S
ir, you terrify me,
”
he said solemnly.
“I
hasten to obey.
”
He placed his arm around
Cynthia
. To Lady Ballymere
’
s pained astonishment,
Cynthia
nestled quite contentedly against the ruffian.
“I
shall offer marriage to Lady
Cynthia
immediately,
”
promised Mr. Whittaker.

“A
nd I shall accept,
”
said
Cynthia
happily.

Lady Ballymere stretched her hand toward her daughter, moaning.
“
Cynthia
. No. You are barely acquainted with Mr. Whittaker.
”

“I
take leave to contradict you, Mama.
”
Cynthia
’
s voice was clear; her tone polite, but distant, as if she were speaking to a stranger.
“I
t is you, not I, who is barely acquainted with Mr. Whittaker. I know Mr. Whittaker very well indeed.
”
She leaned adoringly on his arm, and as she looked up at him her face lit with happiness.

“I
am glad, my dear,
”
said the duke gruffly.
“I
t seems you have no aversion to marrying this scapegrace of ours.
”

“N
one whatsoever, Your Grace.
”

The duke
’
s keen gaze traveled to Mr. Whittaker.
“A
nd you, my boy? You seem content with your lot.
”

“I
am more than content, Your Grace. I am ecstatic.
”
His face broke into a grin.
“I
have wanted to marry Lady
Cynthia
for years.
”

Surprised exclamations greeted this pronouncement. Relief and congratulations filled the air. Lady Ballymere could only stare in confused amazement.
“H
ow can this be? What do you mean?
”
she asked, bewildered.

No one answered her. She seemed to have become invisible. The Ellsworths pushed past her to congratulate
Cynthia
and Mr. Whittaker. Mr. Ellsworth wrung Mr. Whittaker
’
s hand and wished him happy. The duchess rose gracefully from her place and came to kiss
Cynthia
on the cheek, and even the duke visibly thawed. Lady Ballymere still sat, dazedly folding and refolding her napkin.

At last the duchess crossed to her husband and placed her hand on his sleeve.
“L
et us leave the young people to sort this matter out, my dear,
”
she said placidly.
“I
hope no one will think me rude if I show less interest in these proceedings than I normally would. I simply cannot help it. I have more important things on my mind this morning.
”

The duke looked down at her in surprise. She gave him a demure little smile and patted his arm.
“F
or heaven
’
s sake, William, take me upstairs. I want to see the baby.
”

Chapter
20
             
             
             
             

It had been a happy, but exhausting, day. Derek thought they deserved a reward. He seized
Cynthia
’
s hand and ducked into the dark library, then pulled her toward the outside door. She hung back, laughing.
“D
erek, it
’
s freezing out there.
”

Cynthia
was wearing a paper-thin dinner dress of some clingy silk stuff. She looked breathtakingly beautiful in it, of course, but it provided no warmth. With a magician
’
s flourish, he lifted her cloak from where he had hidden it, behind the overstuffed sofa. Her eyes widened in delight.
“W
here did you get that?
”

“N
ever you mind. I have my ways.
”
He winked.
“C
ome on. I
’
ve had enough congratulations for one day. I want to be alone with my bride-to-be.
”

She followed him through the door and out onto the marble terrace. The night was chilly, but the air was clear as crystal. The pale marble glowed beneath their feet like starlight turned to stone. He placed the cloak around her shoulders and drew it gently across her arms.

“I
t
’
s lovely to go off alone with you,
”
she said dreamily.
“E
specially now, when I know that no one will disapprove.
”

“Y
our mother isn
’
t exactly overjoyed,
”
he reminded her.
“I
hope, for your sake, she will make peace with the idea eventually.
”

Cynthia
’
s smile was serene.
“I
don
’
t care,
”
she said simply.
“I
can
’
t tell you what a relief that is
—
not to care what she thinks. I know this is right. I know it in my heart. I don
’
t need her permission to be happy.
”
She sighed contentedly.
“I
am happy,
and I will be happy
with or without her approval.
”

He linked his hands behind her waist and looked searchingly into her eyes. He saw no shade of trouble there. Still, loving her, he wished he could have made it perfect for her. She saw his frown and surprise moved across her features.
“D
erek, what is it? Are you not happy?
”

He almost laughed at her.
“W
hat do you think?
”

She smiled.
“I
think you are.
”

“Q
uite right.
”
His own smile faded a little.
“B
ut, for your sake, sweet, I wish the circumstances of our betrothal had been different.
”

She shook her head.
“N
o regrets,
”
she said softly.
“H
ad you courted me in the ordinary way, my mother would have found a way to prevent this. We never would have been allowed to marry.
”

“I
suppose you are right.
”

She gave him a saucy look.
“I
frequently am.
”

He grinned and pulled her closer. She came to him willingly, snuggling in the circle of his arms.
“H
owever it came about, I feel blessed,
”
he told her, his voice thick with emotion.
“B
lessed beyond measure.
”

“S
o do I.
”
She sighed again, then leaned back to look up at him, her eyes twinkling.
“B
y the by, I think your giving up my dowry was a nice touch.
”

He laughed out loud.
“W
asn
’
t it? I
’
m a generous chap.
”

“I
did not know until today that my grandmother had left me a dowry. Sir James never bothered to ask.
”

“I
feared your mother was going to fall into a fit when I inquired about it.
”

She gave a little spurt of laughter.
“M
ama does not know you well enough to recognize that gleam in your eye. I knew you were only being sly.
”

“S
till, I was as surprised as you when she admitted that there was one.
”

“I
t
’
s only a thousand pounds.
”

“O
nly!
Cynthia
, you astonish me. A thousand pounds is a great deal of money to most people.
”
He tried to look injured.
“Y
ou do not appreciate the nobility of my sacrifice, in offering to sign it over to your parents when it arrives.
”

“O
h,
I
appreciate it, never fear.
”
She looked mischievous.
“I
t is my mother who seems to think it a paltry sum.
”

“I
f you were to ask me,
”
said Derek grimly,
“I
would say that that is the crux of your parents
’
difficulties.
”

Cynthia
nodded gravely.
“I
believe you are right. I was much struck by what you said this afternoon.
”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“I
said many things this afternoon. Which of my remarks impressed you?
”

“O
h, all of them,
”
she assured him demurely.
“B
ut I was referring to one in particular.
”
Her face sobered again.
“Y
ou said, I think, that there is no amount of money that can guarantee safety. That however much one has, it is always possible to spend it.
”
A tiny crease appeared between her brows.
“I
t immediately seemed, to me, that if my parents
had
received Sir James
’
s thirty thousand pounds, it very likely would have done them little good. In fact, they might very well have run through it in the identical amount of time it took them to spend his ten thousand. They spend what they have, no matter what it is. So in chasing after a big marriage settlement for me, believing it would relieve them of their difficulties, they were chasing a mere phantom. Is that what you were saying?
”

“S
omething like it,
”
he agreed.
“I
couldn
’
t say it in those words, of course, without offending your mother. Since she already seemed rather put out
by our betrothal
, I didn
’
t like to antagonize her further.
”

She laughed up at him.
“Y
ou are the soul of consideration.
”

“I
try,
”
he said modestly.
“I
t is easiest, of course, when my own self-interest is at stake. I shall be unf
ailingly polite to your mother—
at least until I place the ring on your finger. Since your twenty-first birthday is in May, and I am determined to wed you in April, your mother
’
s goodwill is vital to me.
”

“S
he shan
’
t refuse her consent. She wouldn
’
t dare.
”

“F
or fear of the story leaking out? Yes. That is the one good thing about this havey-cavey situation we are in. Your mother seems completely cowed
—
for the time being. And another good thing,
”
he added, adjusting her cloak across her arms,
“
is that you have already been at Oldham Park for three weeks.
”

She looked surprised.
“H
ow does that benefit us?
”

He grinned.
“O
nce you
’
ve resided here for four weeks, I can obtain a license and we can be married. In the duke
’
s chapel, if you like.
”

“O
h!
”
Her eyes sparkled with eagerness.
“I
would like it of all things. We can really be married next week? I can hardly believe it! I had thought we must wait for banns.
”

He laughed, delighted by her response.
“
Cynthia
, you amaze me! I was half joking. Think, sweetheart! Don
’
t you want parties and balls? Don
’
t you want bride-clothes? Don
’
t you want to parade about like a queen, and be the envy of all your acquaintance?
”

“N
o!
”
He could not doubt her sincerity; she actually made a little moue of disgust at the picture he had painted.
“I
care for none of those things. I want to be your wife. I want
—”
her voice suddenly went a little breathless.
“I
want everything that comes with marriage.
”
Her eyes darkened.
“I
want
you
,
”
she whispered.

Derek felt his throat tighten. He lifted her hand and kissed the tender spot of flesh above her glove, on the inside of her wrist.
“Y
ou shall have me,
”
he promised. Her skin was so delicious, he could not leave it alone. He moved his lips further up her arm, kissing and nibbling up to the inside of her elbow.
Cynthia
shivered and stretched her arm out to oblige him, inviting the caress. The cloak slipped off her shoulders and fell, unheeded, to the terrace floor.

“I
wish I could come to your bed tonight,
”
she whispered.

He groaned and caught her to him.
“D
on
’
t say that,
”
he growled.
“Y
ou
’
re torturing me.
”

“I
s there a way?
”

Derek felt the blood thundering in his veins.
“I
f I think of one,
”
he said hoarsely,
“I’
ll let you know.
”

“O
h, Derek.
”
Her face was full of longing.
“D
o you think we would get caught?
”

“A
lmost certainly,
”
he said reluctantly.
“Y
our mother will watch you like a cat at the mousehole. And servants always know what goes on in a house.
”

She sighed.
“W
ell.
Having
waited this long, we can wait another week.
”
She fitted her body against his, as if trying to touch as much of him as she could.
“I
suppose we were lucky to have last night.
”

“L
ucky is the word for it,
”
he agreed. He pressed his cheek against her hair.
It was as soft as duck down
and as sweet as orange blossoms. Sweeter. And over their heads the firmament stretched, thick with stars. There were so many, it seemed that all of heaven had crowded into the Lancashire sky to witness their happiness.

“D
erek,
”
she murmured.

“Y
es, love.
”

“I
f I knew which star to thank, I would thank your lucky star.
”

He smiled.
So would I.
“L
et
’
s thank them all,
”
he suggested.
“A
different one every night.
”