Corey McFadden (11 page)

“Not at all. I happened to be there when Mrs. Q. made her excuses. The Headache, Quite Severe. Miss Quinn kindly offered to see to her comfort, that’s all.”

“Ah, quite the little spinster-companion she’s turning out to be. No competition for our Perennial Toast, is she?”

Julian made no reply, merely threw down another card, barely noticing which one. The hand really was an abomination.

“You’ll come then, Julian? We’ll have no fun at all without you.”

“Oh, I suppose I must. You’re not going to leave me alone until I agree, are you?”

“Not for a moment.”

Julian kept the look of exasperation on his face until Edgar had wandered off to bedevil someone else. Then he allowed a small smile to grace his features. An idyllic afternoon in the country with Miss Quinn. Miss Elspeth Quinn, of the large green eyes behind bewitching spectacles.

* * * *

The early afternoon sun tried its best to get through the heavy brocade curtains in the Quinn drawing room, but the effort was not terribly successful. The room was dark and close and Julian could hardly make out the words on the page of the book he had filched from the library to while away the time. He was tired of waiting already, although it had only been a quarter of an hour, nothing at all to a young lady of the
ton
. He heard the slightest squeak of the door and looked up, hoping against all hope that the ladies would defy convention and actually make an appearance before the obligatory half hour had elapsed.

A small face barely peeped around the edge of the door. Julian couldn’t quite make out the features in the gloom, but he could hazard a good guess. “Harry, is that you, sir?” he asked.

The
small figure stepped furtively into the room and shut the door hurriedly. “Good afternoon, Mr. Thorpe, sir,” came the small voice.

“And to you, sir. Are you well today?”

“Not terribly, no.”

“Ah. I see. Well, Harry, my boy, generally when one gentleman asks another in passing if he is well, the expected answer is ‘Very well, sir, and you?’ no matter what his actual state of well-being. Nevertheless, when the gentlemen are friends, it is occasionally accepted for the one to unburden himself of his troubles. What seems to be wrong today?”

“Everything!” Harry announced dramatically, flinging himself down on one of the several brocaded occasional chairs placed around the room in strategic, if irritating, angles. It was remarkable how children could screw themselves up like that, into such peculiar shapes. Julian was quite sure that if he were to adopt such a posture, he might well remain that way forever. “Everyone is at sixes and sevens,” the child went on, darkly. “Caroline is screaming like a banshee, Aunt Bettina is threatening to send us home, and my sister has been closed away in her room crying all morning. I’d like to go home myself, but Elspeth thinks we’ll be disgraced. I’ve been disgraced a great many times. I don’t see what’s so awful about that.”

“Well, gentlemen seem to bear up better under disgrace than ladies do. They’re very delicate, you know.”

“Caroline is not delicate,” Harry pronounced.

“Well, no, I would not call Caroline ‘delicate.’ Actually, now that I think of it, none of the ladies of my acquaintance could be called ‘delicate.’ It must be just a figure of speech. What is everyone so upset about?”

“I’m sure I shouldn’t tell you,” Harry began, but he didn’t sound sure.

“Well, tell me and then we’ll decide whether you should have told me or not.” Normally Julian would consider it caddish to pressure a mere child like this, but last night had been infuriating and baffling and he damned well felt like getting to the bottom of it all.

“Well...” Harry began again, then tapered off.

“Yes?”

“Caroline says Elspeth made a fool of herself last night and that the entire
ton
is laughing at her. She made my sister cry. And why do we have to call all these English society people ‘
ton
’ anyway? Why can’t we just speak English?”

“Well, as to the French, Harry, I suppose that all has to do with 1066 and the Norman Conquest and all that, but I must say I was at the same ball last night, and I didn’t hear a single soul laughing about your sister.”

“Well, of course not. Elspeth’s not funny. She’s a good egg, really, but she’s rather a bore for all that. Reads all the time. Nothing to laugh at there.”

“Why does Caroline think people are laughing at your sister?” Julian asked. Interrogating a nine-year-old was difficult to say the least.

“Don’t know,” came Harry’s answer, rather muffled. He wouldn’t look at Julian.

“I think you do, Harry. Tell me, were you listening at doors or did they have these conversations in front of you?”

“Well….”

“At doors, then. So be it. Naturally, a gentleman does not do such a thing except when it is absolutely necessary, and this does sound like one of those times.” He watched while Harry worked that out and then brightened considerably. “What did you hear?”

“Well, I didn’t understand it really. I couldn’t hear very well. But Caroline screamed the place down about Elspeth running around after some man.”

“I did not see your sister running around after any man at all, Harry. Did she say who the gentleman was?”

“Just a man named Julian. Do you know anyone named Julian, Mr. Thorpe?”

He took a deep breath, shocked at the flare of anger that shot through him. “Well, I suppose she must mean me, Harry. I’m the only Julian in our set, at least here in Bath. Unless, of course, they mean old Julian Fredricks. I expect they can’t mean him, though. He’s well into his eighties and he doesn’t run at all. No need running after him all night.” It was a small joke and treated accordingly. Harry looked chagrined. “See here, Harry. I can promise you your sister most decidedly did not run around after me at all, not even a little. And no one else thinks so, either. I don’t know what this is all about, but I’ll be happy to straighten it out. When will your sister be ready for the picnic?”

“Oh, she isn’t to go on the picnic, sir. Aunt Bettina told her she couldn’t stir from the house today at all. Caroline will go, though.”

“I see.” And he did. A nasty little bit of jealousy. Caroline couldn’t stand to share the attention, not with anyone. “How soon do you suppose Caroline will be ready to leave?”

“Oh, hours yet. She’s running around upstairs in her dressing gown, shrieking about how she hates all her dresses. Actually, I think they look awful, too. All that fuss and stuff. Elspeth’s dresses are much better. She doesn’t look like a ninny.”

The boy was shaping up at that. “Harry, I need to talk to your sister, but you say she’s been crying all morning?”

“All morning. She wouldn’t even let me in her room.”

“Where is your Aunt Bettina?”

“In her room, lying down. She told us to be very quiet and leave her be.”

“All right. I have a favor to ask of you. Go to your sister’s room, very quietly. Tell her you really, really need her to get you a book from the library. Say, uh, Homer’s
Odyssey.
Tell her you need to settle a score with Roderick.”

“What score? She’s bound to ask.”

Elspeth would ask, too. Even distraught, her curiosity would get the better of her. “Uh, say Roderick is arguing about Scylla and Charybdis. About which is the whirlpool and which is the rock.”

“Oh, she’ll know the answer to that. She knows all that stuff without a book.”

“Yes, but Roderick wouldn’t believe it unless you showed it to him, would he?”

“That’s true. He won’t even believe it sometimes when you do show it to him.”

“I’m not surprised. Still, you get her down to the library, then make yourself scarce.”

“I say, I’ll be lying, won’t I? Everyone always gets into such a pother when I lie the least little bit.”

Ah, children were taught to be such absolutists. “Well, yes, you’ll be lying, and this is, again, one of those things where it’s hardly ever right, except only under very rare circumstances, such as these. Your sister has been upset unfairly, and I mean to set it right.”

“You’ll vouch for me, then? She’ll be awfully annoyed.” Harry sounded dubious about the strength of character of his accomplice. Didn’t want to be left holding the bag, as it were. Julian didn’t much blame him.

“Harry, I’d be an awful coward to put you up to something, then desert you under fire, wouldn’t I?”

“Roderick would.”

“I won’t.”

For a moment they stared at one another. Julian could see Harry working it out in his head. Things were so simple to a child. Things were right or they were wrong. Something was a lie, or it was the truth. When did one learn to shade and color and make excuses, Julian wondered. Still, he couldn’t very well send up his card and ask to see her. He could just imagine the ‘pother’—as Harry would put it—that would cause.

“I’ll do it, sir. I can trust you,” Harry said drawing himself up straighter.

“Good lad. Hurry on now. I’d like to speak with your sister before Caroline is ready to go.”

“Well, not to worry. You’ll have all day, then,” Harry said dryly and took himself off.

Julian waited a moment, then slipped from the drawing room across the hallway to the library, closing the door behind him. He didn’t have too long to wait. He heard the door open quietly, and watched a bedraggled figure creep in. Perhaps ladies moved more quickly when no one waited for them, an odd, ironic little thought.

He did know a moment of guilt. No lady of any social stratum whatsoever appreciated an ambush, particularly if she’d been crying all day. He stood in a corner, away from the light. She hadn’t seen him yet. Of course, she wasn’t expecting anyone to be there. She wore her spectacles and a simple day dress, gray, possibly, although in this light it was difficult to tell. It was a soft color. Caroline wouldn’t be caught at a cockfight in any color so quiet. Pity. It might have lent her some grace.

Elspeth moved to the bookcase nearest her and peered somewhat myopically at the titles, her back to where he stood in the shadows. Her shoulders were slumped and he could feel the misery emanating from her slight form. Surely he ought to make himself known, but he found himself disinclined to move. She would be so upset to find him here. He heard a great sniff and it gave him a pang. He watched as her hand lifted and fell on a book. She pulled it out, thumbed it open, then gave a great sob and let it slip to the floor. Fumbling in a skirt pocket for a handkerchief, she must not have heard him as he crossed over to her.

“Elspeth,” he said softly, just behind her.

She gave a squeak and jumped, turning quickly. Shock, followed by anger, chased across her face. “Oh, no, not you! How could this day get any worse?” she cried, and buried her face in her handkerchief.

“I suppose I deserve that,” he whispered, stepping closer and reaching for her.

“Not another step,” she said, stepping back so quickly that she bumped up against the shelves. She glared up at him. “Things are bad enough without my being caught
in flagrante delicto
in the library with you! Now they’ll accuse me of conniving an assignation.”

“Please tell me what on earth is going on. What is this all about?” he asked.

“As I am the laughingstock of the
ton
, I suppose you already know what it’s about,” she said, glaring all the more. “Did you entertain everyone with tales of my pathetic and gauche behavior?”

“Elspeth, I played cards in Lady Dowling’s library until the wee hours. Your name was mentioned only once, by my friend Wesley Ames, who made a flattering remark about your demeanor, with which we all agreed. I was careful not to say more to avert the very gossip Caroline claims to have heard. If you were the laughingstock of the
ton
, I would have heard it.” She continued to glare, but she looked a bit less mutinous. Emboldened, he went on.
“
I
suspect you have been treated unkindly by your cousin. Tell me what she said to you.”

Elspeth blew her nose. Her eyes were all puffy and red-rimmed, large as saucers behind the rims of her spectacles. Beautiful, luminous green saucers. He longed to take her in his arms, but he rather feared getting brained with a book should he make the attempt.

“She said that after I left, my name was on everyone’s lips, that I had made an ass of myself chasing after you, and that she could barely hold her head up the rest of the evening. So help me, I don’t understand how anything that I did could be so interpreted, but if this is what passes for fun among the ‘Quality,’ then I want no part of it.”

“I cannot defend the
ton
on the subject of malicious gossip, Elspeth. God knows they are guilty of much worse on any given day. But this time, I think not. It may be ungentlemanly of me to say it, but I think your cousin is just plain jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?” Elspeth asked, incredulity plain in her tone. “What on earth would she find to be jealous of? She is beautiful; I am plain. She is witty; I am dull. She has money; I am poor. I cannot believe it.”

“Were you any other young lady in Bath, I would assume you were fishing rather desperately for compliments. But I believe we have established to my satisfaction that you do not stoop to such. As
it is, I think you have no idea of the truth.” He smiled into her great, green eyes.

“Please don’t bother with idle flattery, sir,” she said with a snuffle. “I have explained to you that I do not require it.”

“You are very beautiful,” he said softly. She refused to meet his eye. “You have more wit in your hat that Caroline can muster in any given year.” She still would not look at him. “Money doesn’t matter,” he finished, rather lamely, he thought.

Now she gave him a look that could blister the paint off the walls.

“I mean it does not matter to me.” He stepped forward slowly. She shrank back, but there was no place for her to go. She gazed up at him, eyes impossibly large, impossibly beautiful. He placed his hands on the bookshelf, one to either side of her face. He lowered his head to hers, slowly, slowly. As gently as a whisper, his lips touched hers. Her lips were soft and delicious. He longed to deepen the kiss, to stir a passion he knew swam just beneath her cool surface. Instead, he lowered his hands and slipped them softly around her shoulders.