Double Deception (16 page)

Athena was so sorely tempted to reach out for what this man offered that she forgot for a moment that she was betrothed to his son.

Long after the earl had gone, leaving the tantalizing male scent of shaving soap behind him, Athena sat staring blindly out of the open window, Lady Sarah's invitations forgotten.

***

After a solitary ride, during which his thoughts strayed with disconcerting frequency to the lady sitting at home in his morning room, Lord St. Aubyn made his way upstairs to his aunt's private sitting room.

His demeanor was more than usually troubled, a fact Lady Sarah was quick to remark upon.

"What ails you, lad?" she demanded as soon as Sylvester had taken up his stand before the empty hearth. "You look as though you had swallowed a spider."

Sylvester grinned. His aunt's penchant for sprinkling her speech with cant expressions never failed to amuse him. "You never heard that from me, Aunt. No doubt you have been listening to Perry again. I thought I told that boy to watch his language with the ladies."

"I am sure you did, dear," came the crisp reply, "but you might have saved your breath. Perry is still a sad rattle. His brief sojourn in London did not give him any town bronze at all as far as I can tell."

"Because he spent his entire stay sitting in the fair Athena's pocket, no doubt," Sylvester answered shortly. "That is what I want to talk to you about, Aunt—"

"Yes, I expect you do," Lady Sarah cut in, looking up from the needlework she had been engaged in. "That chit Augusta brought with her is a trollop, of course, but you must admit, Sylvester, that the gel knows her business. She has Perry dancing attendance like a puppet on a string. I do declare I feel quite sorry for the poor boy."

Sylvester was uncomfortably aware of the old lady's scrutiny, and glanced down at his ruby signet ring to collect his thoughts. During his ride he had felt the need for his-aunt's sage advice on the apparent ease with which their plan had succeeded in separating Perry from his widow. Why, then, did he feel responsible for Athena Standish's plight?

"And Mrs., Standish?" he asked abruptly, absently twisting his ring on his finger. "Does your commiseration extend to her as well, Aunt?"

After an extended pause, Sylvester raised his eyes and saw that his aunt was regarding him with an odd expression on her face.

"As far as I recall," she said slowly and distinctly, "feeling sorry for Athena was not part of our original plan, Sylvester. If I remember correctly, your goal was to rescue Perry from the nefarious clutches of a fortune hunter. Am I not correct?"

Much as he wished to do so, Sylvester could not deny it; but healing his aunt speak so baldly of his plan to employ a younger female to wean Perry away from what he considered a disastrous marriage caused him to wince. Lady Sarah's words made him sound heartless, as indeed he was, he thought ruefully. The widow's feelings had not concerned him, if indeed he had considered them at all. Why had he suddenly developed a conscience? he wondered.

"And as far as I can see, we have succeeded admirably," his aunt continued, her sharp blue gaze never wavering. "Thanks to the ravishing Miss Rathbone's feminine charms, Perry's emotions are now hopelessly confused. Our darling Viviana is awakening the man in your son, Sylvester, and if she has not seduced him before he is much older, I shall be very much surprised."

"Seduced him?" Sylvester stared at his aunt in astonishment. Had he become so engrossed with his own less than honorable thoughts about Athena that he had failed to notice his son standing on the threshold of manhood?

"I had not intended it to come to that," he said harshly. "Surely you are mistaken, Aunt. After all, you—"

Lady Sarah chuckled. "I am only an unfortunate maiden lady who knows nothing of the ways of the flesh? Is that what you were about to say, Sylvester? Well, allow me to set your mind at rest, my dear boy," she said, a hint of defiance in her blue eyes. "Old I undoubtedly am, but not yet devoid of my powers of observation. You may take my word for it, lad, before much longer, our young Peregrine will know a good deal more about females than he does now. Believe you me."

When Sylvester made no reply, Lady Sarah picked up her needlework and continued in a softer voice, "If you are still reluctant to trust my observations, Sylvester, let me tell you that Augusta has noticed it, too. And she is hardly what you would call inexperienced," his aunt added with a sly smile. "Augusta has also noted—and remarked upon, I should add—your own assiduous pursuit of Mrs. Standish. In fact—and I am sure you will find this amusing, dear—Augusta is quite convinced that you hired Viviana to clear the way for your own designs upon the widow."

"What
are you saying, madam?" Sylvester thundered, startled to hear himself shouting.

Lady Sarah glanced up at him, an innocent smile teasing the corners of her mouth. "Why, nothing at all, dear. And there is no need to shout. You and I both know that you are merely distracting Mrs. Standish to keep her mind off Perry's infatuation with the Beauty."

"Which was entirely your idea, if I recall, Aunt."

"Of course it was, dear," Lady Sarah murmured soothingly. "And you are doing a most convincing job of it. One might almost believe ..." Her voice trailed off and she shrugged, applying herself once more to her embroidery.

"Believe
what,
Aunt?" Apprehension made his voice sharper than he intended.

"Why, nothing, dear. Except that Augusta seems to think that you are becoming as infatuated with our little widow as Peregrine is with the Beauty. She finds the whole plot of this melodrama highly entertaining, as you can well imagine."

"Your Mrs. Rathbone has an overwrought imagination," Sylvester snapped angrily. "And I can assure you, Aunt, that there is no truth whatsoever in her absurd allegations. I am merely following your suggestion—"

"Oh, I know that, dear," his aunt cut in gently. "And besides, it is not as though Athena might be deceived into taking your attentions seriously. It has not escaped my notice that she avoids you whenever possible. And as for the other kind of attention ... well, I trust you will not deceive yourself into thinking Athena will accept anything less than an honorable alliance, dear. From what her aunt, Mrs. Easton, tells me, our widow is a romantic at heart, a characteristic she shares with you, Sylvester."

"Me?" he replied in a startled voice. "I am not a romantic, Aunt. You must have moonshine in your head to suggest it."

"Then why have you not taken a second wife, my dear?" Lady Sarah said gently. "It is now over five years since dear Adrienne left us, and yet—"

"I have no wish for a second wife," he responded shortly.

"I cannot imagine why not," his aunt murmured, almost to herself, setting a careful stitch in the colorful embroidery in her lap. "You are only two-and-forty, after all. Not yet in your dotage. It might be pleasant to have little ones running about this old castle again."

The earl uttered an impatient sound and strode over to stare down at the rose gardens. Unwillingly, his gaze was drawn to the lily-pond. Was it a flight of fancy, or was he only imagining that the scene appeared strangely forlorn without that slight figure in pink trailing her fingers in the still waters? Sylvester shook himself and turned back to his aunt.

"I did not come to seek your advice upon my improbable second nuptials, Aunt," he said brusquely. "But you are right about Perry. I believe he is ready to concede that his betrothal to Mrs. Standish was a mistake, and I am sure she will release him if we can offer her an acceptable alternative."

Lady Sarah looked up quickly, her blue eyes sparkling in anticipation. "Do not tell me that dear Augusta was right after all, Sylvester?"

The earl grinned humorlessly. "The only romantic here is you, my dear Aunt," he remarked affectionately. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I think I have found a way to induce Mrs. Standish to remove herself from the Castle."

"I thought she had refused to accept your three thousand pounds. Will you offer her more, perchance?"

"No. But I did discover quite by accident this morning that her father, Sir Henry Rothingham, has a small collection of Oriental porcelain. Given my own interest in that area, it would be entirely unexceptional for me to write to him for information to include in my forthcoming lectures. If I were to mention his daughter's presence here and her desire to be reunited with him—"

"Oh, no!" Lady Sarah exclaimed hastily. "That would never do, dear. It never pays to interfere between parent and child. I suggest you merely mention that Athena is staying here as
my
guest—that should let the old reprobate know his daughter is not quite without friends in the world—and that she happened to mention her father's select collection."

The earl frowned. "That seems to be exactly what I proposed to do."

"Not quite, dear. I doubt Athena would wish you to intercede for her. She has too much pride for that. But if Sir Henry is really interested in seeing his daughter again, he will waste no time in writing to her here. Particularly if you mention something flattering about his granddaughter," she added with a smile.

An hour later, the Earl of St. Aubyn sat at his desk in a pensive mood, a half-written letter in front of him. His aunt's advice made perfect sense, and Sylvester had intended to follow it implicitly. However, halfway through his letter to Sir Henry Rothingham, it had suddenly dawned upon him that this same missive might set in motion a series of events that would take Athena Standish away from St. Aubyn Castle, perhaps forever.

The prospect did not bring him the satisfaction he had anticipated.

***

"We will not be living here at the Castle after all, will we, Mama?"

The question took Athena by surprise and brought home to her just how far she had allowed herself to drift apart from Peregrine. Had her disenchantment become so obvious to everyone? she wondered. And her betrothed? Had it become apparent to him, too?

She had been sitting beneath the old oaks with the other ladies watching the viscount engaged in a very lively game of croquet with Miss Rathbone and Penelope, when her daughter ran over to have her sash retied. She glanced around apprehensively, wondering which of the ladies might have overheard her daughter's question. Luckily, the earl had not yet joined the tea-party. Athena could well imagine his cynical smile had he heard Penny's words.

"Will we, Mama?"

Athena put an arm around her daughter and hugged her close. What was the use of lying to the child, to herself, any longer? she thought. But what could she say that might explain to her daughter the inconstancy of a gentleman's regard, the hollowness of his promises? What excuse could she give for her own lassitude? Had she not watched every one of the Beauty's flirtatious tricks to gain Perry's attention and never made the least push to keep what was hers?

Gently, she tucked one of Penny's stray ringlets into place, all too conscious of her daughter's relentless gaze. "Probably not," she murmured finally, wishing that there had been some other way of breaking the news.

"We will have to go back to London, then?"

"I am afraid so, darling. There is nowhere else to go."

"And Buttercup will stay here?"

"Yes." What else could she say? Athena asked herself, watching a tear roll down her daughter's cheek as the realization sank in. Quickly, Athena took a handkerchief from her sleeve and caught the arrant tear, but no sooner had she dried one than another took its place.

Stifling a sob, Penny pulled away. "Perry lied to us," she cried. "He promised we could—"

"Hush, dearest." Athena reached for her daughter, but the child whirled and ran away across the lawn.

"Whatever is the matter with Penelope?" Lady Sarah demanded, her blue eyes full of concern.

Athena rose to her feet. "She is a little tired, I think. She did not get her rest this afternoon."

"Let me go up to her, dear," Mrs. Easton offered. 

"Thank you, Aunt," Athena responded with a grateful glance. "But I think this is something that needs my attention. Stay and enjoy your tea."

Thankful to escape further embarrassment, Athena hurried up the terrace steps and into the house. The time had come to have a serious talk with Penelope, she thought, not relishing the notion of shattering her daughter's dreams as well as her own. Athena could hear Penelope's sobs from the landing above and quickened her pace. Then the deep voice of a man consoling the child made her pause. Lord St. Aubyn! That was all she needed, Athena thought disgustedly. That man gloating over her misfortune.

The sight that met her eyes on the landing caused Athena to experience a flurry of mixed emotions, the chief of which was anger. What did this odious creature think he was doing, down on one knee, his arm around her daughter, wiping her wet cheeks with his own handkerchief? Did he not know that Penny's distress was a direct result of his refusal to sanction her mother's marriage to his son? Had the earl not interfered, Athena might now have been firmly established at the Castle as Perry's viscountess. And he would not now be romping on the lawn with a notable Beauty.

Or would he? a little voice nagged at her. The thought of Perry behaving so cavalierly as her husband sent a chill down Athena's spine before she brushed the disturbing notion aside. 

At least the earl would not have kissed his daughter-in-law in the dungeons, she told herself, and she would have been spared this odd racing of her pulses every time she heard his voice, or gazed into the enigmatic blue of his eyes. 

Or would he have kissed her anyway? 

And worse yet, would she have wanted him to?

Where this wicked notion came from, Athena did not dare to question, but she was honest enough to admit that the earl's clandestine kiss lay at the heart of her dilemma. She would not undo that kiss even had she the power to do so. It had been too precious, too all-consuming, too much of what was missing from her life. She had been ripe for such a kiss; she was ripe for so much more than a kiss that Athena trembled to think what irredeemable folly she might have committed had he asked for more.