The Gilded Web (17 page)

“Yes,” she said. “I am glad she is to marry Edmund. I like Edmund, though he is not nearly so handsome as you, Dominic. Or so tall.”

He grinned. “I am going to return you to your mama,” he said. “I see some friends of mine that I should pay my respects to.”

“And you would not want them to see you with a fifteen-year-old cousin,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “All right, Dominic. But I will grow up, I promise you.”

He laughed. The party was even more of a squeeze than he had anticipated. His thoughts had taken a decidedly gloomy turn, and he needed the company of his friends to cheer him. The betrothal of Edmund and Miss Purnell was now very formal and very public. He could not possibly break it up without sacrificing all his honor.

He shrugged as he turned away from Anna and his aunt and uncle and crossed the lawn to a group of his acquaintances. The summer in the country would present him with a wholly new opportunity to see what could be accomplished.

M
ADELINE WAS SITTING IN THE CONSERVATORY at Amberley Court, her fingers absently playing with the velvety leaf of a pink geranium plant. She was staring gloomily out through the large windows onto a rain-soaked lawn. Her twin looked equally dejected, one booted foot resting on the window seat that extended around three sides of the room. His elbow was propped on his knee, his chin in his hand.

“It is not so much the rain,” Madeline said. “Indeed, it is sometimes quite enjoyable to tramp along the clifftop or down on the beach with rain and wind lashing against one's face and hair. It is being home again, I suppose, after living for more than a month without a moment to spare for thought. The change of pace is too drastic.”

“Elsewhere always seems so much preferable to right here,” Lord Eden said without looking around. “Do you know what I mean, Mad? When I am in Wiltshire, I think I am living in the middle of nowhere, and I long to be here. When I am here, I fret for more social activity and hanker for a journey to London. And when I am in London, I tire of the shallowness and the tedium of it all and want to be somewhere else again. Is there something wrong with me?”

“It is not that I do not want to be here,” Madeline said. “It is in the country that I am happiest. Perhaps if I never left here, I would not feel dissatisfied at all. But there is always the lure of the Season. Is there something wrong with me, Dom, that I still have not found myself a husband?”

He looked around at her. “I don't think so,” he said. “In fact, I think you occasionally show some good sense, Mad. All the gentlemen who have shown interest in you for the last four years are nothing but loose screws, the lot of them, if you ask me. It does you credit that you have not married any of them.”

“Oh, Dom!” she cried, showing the first spark of spirit in an hour. “What a lowering thing to say. It implies dreadful things about my charms if I cannot attract a worthy suitor.”

“I thought you were keen on Peignton,” he said. “What happened? Or should I ask, what did not happen?”

“He kissed me,” she said, “at Edmund's garden party. It was most improper, Dom. He took me behind the summerhouse into the trees. I knew what he was going to do, of course, and I must confess I did not do much to dissuade him. He is exceedingly handsome, you must admit. Then he murmured something about having to talk to Edmund to discuss a settlement.”

“A settlement?” Lord Eden said. “Nothing about undying love, Mad? No proposal?”

“No, nothing,” she said. “I think he took for granted that I would marry him. He had good reason to, I suppose. I thought I would too.”

“Well?” Lord Eden looked with some impatience at his twin, who was frowning at the tiled floor.

“I said no, I did not think that would be a good idea,” Madeline said, looking up. “And I really did not think so. I did not want to marry him at all. I do not know what will become of me, Dom. That was the best offer I have ever had. And I really thought I loved him. I am two-and-twenty already. That is positively old. I cannot possibly appear next year for yet another Season.”

“Peignton is all looks and surface charm,” her brother said. “He is no great loss, Mad. Someday the right gentleman will come along, and you will live happily ever after. Why did you lose interest in Peignton, anyway? Isn't he a good kisser?”

“Yes, he is altogether too good,” Madeline said. “I am not sure he has any business kissing ladies that way. He quite put me to the blush. But all the time it was happening, instead of just blanking my mind and enjoying it, I was remembering how he was so solicitous of my reputation at Lady Sharp's, wanting to take me to Mama so that I would not be contaminated by being in the same room as Miss Purnell. And he was so careful to avoid me for the rest of that evening after I had gone to talk to her. By the next day, of course, it was unexceptionable to consort with me again; Miss Purnell had made herself respectable by engaging herself to Edmund.”

Lord Eden sat down beside his sister and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “She should be here soon,” he said, “if the rain has not completely halted them on the road. You will help me, Mad?”

Madeline released her hold on the leaf and turned to look up at him. “I really don't think I ought,” she said. “It would be far better to leave matters as they are, Dom. Edmund is betrothed to her, and he does not seem unduly unhappy about the idea. He will make the best of the marriage. Edmund is always so excessively kind to other people. Miss Purnell cannot help but like him and respect him.”

“But it is not fair.” Lord Eden looked earnestly at his sister. “Don't you see that, Mad? Edmund is always cheerful, always kind, always correct. He was only nineteen when Papa died. Three years younger than we are now. And ever since then he has been shouldering the burdens of this family, getting you and me out of scrapes, making sure that our lives are comfortable and carefree. One tends to forget that Edmund is as human as the rest of us. He has feelings and dreams and hopes just as we do.”

“It is different,” Madeline protested. “Edmund is not restless as you and I are. He is happy, Dom, happy as he is. And he is almost thirty. It is time he married. Miss Purnell is a good bride for him. She is a little strange, I will admit, but I admire her. She has great pride and self-possession. I am determined to like her.”

“Sometimes I could shake you.” Lord Eden uncrossed his legs and got to his feet again. “Mad, Edmund is being forced into a marriage with a stranger. And a rather strange stranger too, as you have just commented. He doesn't deserve that. Edmund deserves a bride who will love him and appreciate his goodness. He deserves a little happiness in return for that which he is so careful to spread around him. He was happy with Mrs. Borden, you know. Did you know about Mrs. Borden?”

“She was his mistress, I gather,” Madeline said with a blush. “I saw her once, Dom. She is a perfect fright. What could Edmund possibly see in her?”

“I don't know,” Lord Eden admitted, “but he liked her, Mad. I would not doubt he has given her up now. It is not fair. You have to help me persuade Miss Purnell that she prefers me.”

“You were in love with Miss Carstairs just a little while ago,” Madeline said, “though I thought her altogether too silly and childish for you, Dom. Have you forgotten her so soon?”

He rounded on her. “What a foolish question, Mad,” he said. “I credited you with more intelligence and more understanding. You know that my feelings for Miss Carstairs have nothing to do with the matter. The point is that someone has to marry Miss Purnell. And who else should it be but me? Certainly not Edmund. There is no more reason why Edmund should marry her than there is that the man in the moon should do so. Can you not see that?”

Madeline got to her feet and tapped her hand lightly against his waistcoat. “Yes, I can, Dom,” she said. “Of course I can. I just do not want to see you trapped in a bad marriage for the rest of your life, that is all. It would break my heart. But you are right, of course. It would be no better to see Edmund unhappy. But you see, I would not know that Edmund was unhappy because he would never let anyone see it. Oh, yes, I suppose I would know. But I would think, as I have always thought, that it is just Edmund, and that he does not feel things as strongly as you or I. Have I really felt that way about him all my life, Dom? How perfectly horrid I must be.”

Lord Eden grinned down at her. “You will help, then?” he asked.

“I don't know how,” she said. “Edmund would have my hide if he caught me at it. He considers a betrothal quite as binding as marriage, you know. And there was the announcement in London, and the garden party.”

“You do not have to do anything,” her brother said. “Just be willing to back me up when I invite her walking or riding. Come with us. Bring Purnell along with you. And be sure to give me a chance to talk to her sometimes without being overheard.”

“Oh, famous!” Madeline said, raising her eyes to the ceiling. “I am to be the grand prizewinner, I see. Mr. Purnell gives me the shudders. One never knows what he is thinking. And usually one is thankful one does not. And those eyes!”

“You can rise to the challenge, Mad,” he said. “You have never had a problem making conversation. Usually quite the opposite. And talk to Miss Purnell when you can. Nothing much. Just a hint here, a word there. Anything you can think of, without being too obvious. I mean to have her, you know, and I am usually successful with the ladies once I have set my mind to one.”

“What a truly modest brother I have,” Madeline said. “Perhaps the next few weeks will be quite as exciting as London after all. If only you did not have to be married to Miss Purnell at the end of it, Dom. I think I might like her, but she is all wrong for you. And Mr. Purnell is to be my portion, is he? Yes, very exciting.”

“Perhaps you should set out to ensnare him,” Lord Eden said with a grin. “We could have a double wedding, Mad.”

“Oh, spare me,” she said with a shudder. “I think I shall rush into the village and order a dozen spinster's caps. Large size. I shall pull them down over my eyes and my ears so that I might resist the strong temptation to flirt with Mr. Purnell. I would rather flirt with an alligator! Oh, Dom, is that a carriage I hear?”

Both stood very still and listened. Then Lord Eden crossed to the windows and peered through.

“Can't see a thing, what with the rain and the trees,” he said. “But those are definitely horses I hear. Come along, Mad, we should be with Edmund when he welcomes the guests.”

“Do you think you might contrive to call me Madeline in public?” she asked. “The other is so lowering, Dom.”

A
LEXANDRA WAS SITTING
quietly gazing through the carriage window. She was feeling relieved that her mother had finally fallen quiet. Lady Beckworth had scarcely stopped fretting since they had left London the day before. She thought the turnpike charges excessive when only two of them were traveling in the carriage; she wished Alexandra would not open a window to breathe in the air or to talk to James, who rode alongside them; she thought the service at the inns where they stopped for their meals slovenly—the servants would not have dared behave so if Lord Beckworth had been with them; the sheets were not properly aired at the inn where they had stayed the night before; they should have stayed there another night rather than risk traveling today in the rain.

Lady Beckworth had been terrified all day that they would be overturned in the mud. And indeed, the carriage had swayed and skidded quite alarmingly on a few occasions. But James had considered conditions quite good enough for travel, and Alexandra trusted her brother's judgment. Now they had turned through the imposing iron gates of Amberley Court and past the stone lodge and the nodding porter, and finally all was quiet as they waited for their first glimpse of the house. Meanwhile they traveled along a densely tree-lined winding driveway. It felt almost as if they were in an enchanted world. James had ridden on ahead, the driveway being too narrow to accommodate both a horse and a carriage traveling side by side.

Alexandra felt her heartbeat quicken. She really did not wish to be where she was. Despite all the publicity that had surrounded the event, she still had not adjusted her mind to her new status as the betrothed of the Earl of Amberley. It was rather strange perhaps that she, who had never known freedom and never expected to know it except in a very relative way as a wife rather than a daughter, had glimpsed it very briefly, lost it almost immediately, and now longed passionately for it.

And yet even that one glimpse had been elusive. How could she be free? If Lord Amberley had not renewed his offer after his grace rejected her, would she have been free of the domination of a man? She would still have belonged to her father, and for the rest of his or her life—she could not have expected any further marriage offers. Her fate would have been an unenviable one, to put the matter lightly.