Lessons of Desire (29 page)

He turned into a ballroom. Their boots echoed in the huge chamber. Covers shrouded the furniture and dust coated the wall sconces. The room had not been used in years.

"When my father became ill, he finally confided the estate's problems to me. I had been living like there was no end to the money, only to learn the end was in sight. So I began to sell the collection. It was then that I learned that the great prize was a fake."

"You are sure?"

"No fewer than four experts have told me. I kept looking for one who would disagree, to no avail."

"Did you confront the man?"

They moved into the gallery that ran along the side of the house. Chalgroves from centuries past peered down from their ornate frames. "I did. He insisted my experts were wrong. So I went to Miss Blair with my evidence. I do not believe she was complicit, but she did not accept outright that I was correct. Her reaction, her expression itself... She showed dismay, but remained protective of him. That is why I think he was the new lover."

Chalgrove stopped in front of a glass case. He pointed to the middle shelf. "There it is. Impressive, no? I tell myself that I was not too much a fool, but I keep it here to remind me that I was enough of one. I have been reassured that it is a very good fake, identifiable mostly because the casting used a more modern method that only a few archaeologists would recognize."

"Yes, it is very impressive."

"Found in the sea off Italy, he said. Hell, he knew just how to pluck at my vanity."

They stood side by side in front of the glass case Chalgrove smiled ruefully at the evidence of his youthful mistake. A new void opened in Elliot's chest.

"I suggest that you talk lo Miss Blair yourself, Chalgrove. Go up to town and ask Hayden's wife to arrange a meeting for you. Tell Miss Blair the story that you have just told me. I have cause to think she is most interested in the man who sold you this prize, and she may hear your request about those memoirs with an open mind."

"I would not want to name him, Rothwell. Not after all these years, not even in privacy to her."

"You will not have to. Just bring that with you."

He pointed lo the case, and to the little bronze statue of a nude goddess that was just like the one he had recently seen in Matthias's study in Positano.

Phaedra crossed her hands on her lap to hide the ink stains on her right glove. She had been to the printer today to discuss the production of her father's book. A careless gesture near some fresh pages had sullied her only pair of gloves that were not black.

Her hostess would not care if ink streaked her face. Alexia had never judged her by her appearance. Phaedra's impulse to appear more normal today had nothing to do with their friendship.

She was not sure why she had worn the blue dress and dug out these white kid gloves from her girlhood. Perhaps the setting of this visit had encouraged it. Alexia had written, asking her to call, and had even sent her carriage to facilitate the visit. If Alexia's husband was willing to tolerate Phaedra Blair's presence in his wife's life, it might be wise not to be too flamboyant in her lack of "normal" while in the man's house.

"I have a present for you." Alexia said after the conversation drifted into a pause.

Alexia had spent a lot of time asking Phaedra for advice on her cousins in Oxfordshire and on Henrietta's reckless behavior regarding Caroline. Alexia had described at length some new decorating planned for the library in which they now sat. Alexia had taken her up to admire the new winter carriage ensemble recently purchased.

Alexia had filled almost two hours talking about everything except the things Phaedra desperately wanted to discuss. Unfortunately they were subjects that Phaedra did not know how to broach.

Alexia stood and retrieved a muslin-wrapped package from a corner table. She unveiled the prize and revealed a new hat.

"I thought that you could use two," she said.

Phaedra instinctively touched the one on her head. "This has been seeing an inordinate amount of wear recently. Did you make this new one too?"

"Of course. It gave me great pleasure."

Phaedra pulled off the soiled gloves so she would not ruin the hat. Alexia's designs always impressed her. They managed to appear fashionable while avoiding the worst excesses seen about town. In their restraint and perfect lines and proportions they stood out as superior.

"You are an artist, Alexia. Your husband does not mind that you still ply your needle?"

"Why would he mind?"

Phaedra could think of several reasons why. Alexia's skill at millinery was a little flag of independence waving in her husband's face. It always had been, even during Lord Hayden's peculiar courtship.

"I read your mother's pamphlet. The one on marriage," Alexia said. "Il is in Easterbrook’s library."

Phaedra looked up from the hat. "Why did you read it?"

"You never tried to convert me, so you never really explained your beliefs. I thought I would understand them if I read it. I thought that I would understand you better too"

"What did you think of it?"

Alexia gave that some thought. "I will admit there is a logic to her argument. The laws are bad and in need of reform, that is undeniable. But the rejection of marriage completely..."

Phaedra waited.

"Forgive me, Phaedra. I do not want to criticize. However, I felt it was written by a young woman who did not know much about life or marriage as it really is lived. I found it a lot like philosophers who expound on the meaning of life in ways that have nothing to do with the practical worries that occupy most lives."

Phaedra had to smile. Elliot had said something similar. "Artemis was young when she wrote that pamphlet. However, even after living more she did not forsake the essential points."

"Yes, young." Alexia repeated the word knowingly, as if that explained much if not everything. "Before you were born, certainly. Most likely before she had ever loved a man."

Alexia's calm observation stunned Phaedra. The impulse to defend her mother spiked but she respected Alexia too much to dismiss the comment as ignorant. It also poked at questions that had been plaguing her at night, when she tossed in her bed thinking about the costs of her own choices.

"Alexia, do you never question the power that you gave to Hayden when you married him? He has your future and your happiness in his hands."

Alexia found the question amusing. "And I have his future and his happiness in my hands, Phaedra."

"It is not the same. You are his possession. The law—"

"The law is about other things and other kinds of property. I am his, that is true, but he is mine too. Our love makes it so, but so do the vows we spoke. In this even the law is clear. I have lost nothing of myself in this union, dear friend. Nothing at all. I am now more than I was before I knew him, not less."

She spoke with a calm confidence that affected the mood between them. The unexpected intimacy moved Phaedra. She felt much as she had as a girl when she listened to her mother's lessons.

She took Alexia's hand in her own. "You cannot know that he will never use the power badly."

"I suppose it is possible to love and not know for certain. However, I
do
know. It is one of the few things in life of which I am completely sure." She squeezed Phaedra's hand. "Now, I must see you in my new creation. It could be that I need lo make a few changes for it to be perfect."

Turning to feminine games did not end the intimacy but it did lighten the mood. Together they walked to a looking glass on the wall. Alexia removed Phaedra's hat and settled the new one on her crown.

"I thought to make a bonnet, but that would look odd if you do not dress your hair," Alexia said. She twitched at the large soft bow on the hat's crown. "The Prussian blue looks even better than I hoped. It is a soft color with your complexion, don't you think?"

Phaedra gazed at her reflection. It was not an image that matched the one she had of herself. The hat made her appear paler, somehow. But also less young. She saw a woman approaching full maturity who was no longer an innocent. No longer a girl. No longer a daughter.

She stepped closer and peered harder, stripping away the memories of other reflections so she could see what was really there now, in front of her eyes.

"It is beautiful. You are beautiful."

The praise startled her out of her reverie. The reflection of the room had changed in the looking glass. Alexia no longer stood behind her. Elliot did.

He would have liked some warning. Perhaps Alexia feared he would refuse the assignation if she proposed it. Maybe she believed he and Phaedra could not claim it was accidental that way. Still, he had never expected to find Phaedra here when he responded to Alexia's note requesting that he call.

Phaedra had not even heard him enter the chamber. She had been engrossed in her reflection, studying it as if she did not know the face she viewed. Alexia had silenced his greeting with a finger to her lips, then walked away ignoring his scowl of displeasure.

Phaedra turned in surprise just as the library door quietly closed on Alexia's departure.

"Do not scold her." Elliot said. "She no doubt thinks she is helping."

"I was not thinking of scolding her." She carefully lined the new hat off and set it down on a chair. "I am glad to see you, Elliot I thought you were out of town." "I returned yesterday."

He was glad to see her too. Ridiculously glad. Elated like a boy He did not care for the evidence that he had made no progress in conquering the hold that she had on him.

She sat on a divan. He dared not join her. He wanted her so badly his teeth were already on edge. If he got close enough lo touch he would be lost. He remained standing a good fifteen feel away.

"It is convenient, this meeting," he said. "I was going to write lo you. You will be approached by The Earl of Chalgrove. He wants to talk about the memoirs. I ask that you listen to him."

She did not object, but her expression reflected her impatience with all the requests she received about those memoirs.

"Your home has remained secure?" he asked.

"There have been no other intrusions. The printer now has the manuscript and he will keep it very safe for me."

"How long before—"

"A month, he says."

A little smile played at her lips. He did not think the pending publication amused her. She merely appeared happy, much as she had in the library that day while she looked at him.

She confounded him. How could a woman make him so proud and also so miserable and angry?

"I met with Pettigrew yesterday," he said, broaching the
how
without planning to.

She picked up some white gloves and fussed with them, smoothing them together into a neat pair, 'it was good of you to do so."

"Yes, it was." Too much of his resentment sounded in his voice. He had left that meeting seething. "He intends to make a mockery of you. Phaedra. They will paint you as a woman that no rational man of good standing would ever want as a wife. They will use that to convince the court that the vows were not consensual, that I merely fell on my sword to save you."

She looked up from the gloves. "He will only speak one truth that the whole world already accepts, and another that you and I know to be accurate."

"You are very cool. Phaedra. Very* confident in what you think is true. Damnation, but I almost told him to go to hell. I came within one breath of—"

She waited for the rest.

Of telling him we married willingly: Of claiming you as mine forever. Of lying if necessary, in order to end this separation and to a\x>id the life of half-measures you offer me.

"Phaedra, I want you to withdraw your petition. I will make any promises that you want to reassure you about this marriage."

"You would go to such extremes to save us all from the scandal this will create?"

"I don't give a damn about the scandal. Not for me at least. I do not want to see you endure it, however, and this will avoid that."

"I will survive it. I have always been somewhat scandalous. I think that I know the real reason, and it is shortsighted. I miss you too, Elliot. I miss the pleasure and your company. I count the days to when I can hold you again. It would be a mistake to act rashly to hasten that moment, however."

"Once again you assume you understand when you do not."

She was going to make him spell it out. Of course she was. She did not know where his head and heart had been the last weeks.

"I want this marriage to stand, Phaedra. I want us to repeat the vows so there is no mistaking its validity. I have been thinking about this and I find myself praying that your petition is denied. I do not want you married to me that way, but God help me, I find myself wanting that if it is the only way."

She rose and walked over to him. She looked like an angel in that blue dress, with her copper curls rippling down to her hips. But no angel had eyes like hers, that so frankly revealed desire.

He crossed his arms lo thwart the impulse to grab her. She saw the movement for what it was and stopped far enough away.

"I am flattered, Elliot. However, it is our separation that makes you think that way. Once we are together again—"

"No, damn it. I am not speaking out of base hunger and lust. Even when I can have you again, it will not be enough. I love you, Phaedra, and being your good friend will not satisfy me. I cannot live that way."

He had not planned this ultimatum. His angry heart had spoken without consulting his brain. Now there it was suddenly, hanging like a sword between them.

"You tell me that you love me for the first time.

Elliot, then you list conditions." She appeared astonished and sad. So sad it made his heart clench.

"I was not allowed to speak of love before. I wanted things from you, remember? But that is behind us now if you have gone to press. I have wanted you more than anything else for a long time, and I must speak honestly so you understand why I cannot do it your way."

She stepped closer. Desire long denied tensed through his body, making all of him hard. "If we love each other, truly love each other, it should work any way we choose, Elliot. Is it not better to share free love, the way we have up until now?"

"We have not been sharing free love up until now. Phaedra. We have been sharing free pleasure. I miss that, but I have seen more clearly in its absence. It is not enough anymore. Nor is mere friendship. Not for me at least."

She reached out and gently touched his face. Her fingers felt like cool velvet, but they still seared his skin.

He clutched her hand and kissed her palm. He closed his eyes while he tried to control what she did to him. He had been living in hell since that dinner party. Now he endured its worst torture in touching her again. That, more than anything else, told him that he was right. He could not do it her way.

His hold on his sense flayed rapidly. He wanted to settle this argument the way they always had, by claiming her body and trying to brand his name on her soul.

He looked in her eyes. "I speak of love, but you do not, Phaedra. Perhaps I was wrong and you do not feel it. Maybe you fear it and what it does to a person, or maybe it was only desire on your part after all."