The Princess & the Pea (40 page)

Olivia shot her a cutting glance. "Sarcasm is not becoming in a countess."

"Oh?" It might have been her tone, it might have been the look in her eye or it might simply have been the end result of the long, tiring hours just past and her devastating confrontation with Jared, but something deep inside Cece snapped. She glared at the woman who might, or might not. become her mother-in-law. Cecily Gwendolyn White had had just about enough of Lady Olivia and her tests.

"And what else is not becoming in a countess?" she said sharply. "Is there a list somewhere? An instruction manual I could study? Or is it just one of those learn-by-experience sort of things?"

"Rudeness is not acceptable under any circumstances." Lady Olivia's voice was icy.

"I see." Cece glared, too tired to think before she spoke, too worried about Jared to care. "But placing the woman who has the nerve to wish to marry your son in humiliating and embarrassing and possibly even dangerous situations in some arrogant test of worthiness is acceptable? What would you have me do next to prove myself to you?"

Lady Olivia's eyes widened with obvious shock at Cece's outburst.

Cece plunged ahead, her thoughts rushing forward without restraint, as if a pent-up dam of emotion had finally burst. "What else is in your little book of tricks? Must I scale a mountain? Swim an ocean? Slay a dragon?"

"I had thought a simple pea under your mattress would suffice," Lady Olivia murmured.

"What?" Cece pulled her brows together in confusion.

"She said a 'pea.'" Emily said helpfully. "Under your mattress. Just like in the fairy tale. You remember?" Emily smiled her encouragement. "The princess and the pea?"

"Yes, of course I remember, vaguely." What was this nonsense about a story? What did it have to do with anything?

"It's a charming tale," Emily said.

"It's always been one of my favorites." Lady Olivia nodded her agreement.

Cece glared in disbelief Quentin shrugged and rolled his eyes heavenward, as if to remove himself from this ridiculous conversation altogether.

"We are not talking about some silly story here." Cece snapped. "We are talking about your actions, Olivia—"

"It's Lady Olivia." Emily said under her breath.

Cece narrowed her eyes. "Well, I for one have had more than enough of'lady' this and 'your lordship' that. We don't have such nonsense in my country."

"Pity." Olivia said sweetly.

"Bravo!" Quentin grinned his approval.

Olivia cast him a quelling glance and returned her gaze to Cece. "Nevertheless, when you and Jared marry you will be 'Lady—" Olivia shuddered—"Cece."

"Personally, I think 'Lady Cecily' sounds ever so much better," Emily said in an aside to Quentin.

"Quite." He nodded. "It has just the right touch of upper-class British snobbery."

The thought of "Lady Cecily" jerked Cece back to the matter at hand. For a brief moment the absurd conversation had distracted her. Now the very real possibility that she had lost Jared forever loomed ahead, and pain ripped through her.

"How could you?" Olivia said again.

Cece's gaze met hers, and the younger woman was surprised at the sympathy she read there. "It's not what you think."

"My dear child," Olivia said quietly, "it matters very little what I think. It's what Jared thinks that counts. And there are several things you must remember about my son.

"He has always believed his older brother to be more competent and capable than he. Perhaps it was true when James was alive, but since his death I have seen a change and growth in Jared I never expected. He is quite remarkable."

She drew a deep breath. "However, because of his feelings about his brother, this automobile nonsense has become far more important to him than perhaps is warranted. He sees it as the one thing in life that is truly his accomplishment."

Cece stared in surprise. "I didn't think you knew about his motorcar."

"I have known nearly from the beginning." Olivia smiled benignly. "I am his mother."

Cece and Emily traded swift glances. Olivia continued without interruption. "From what I overheard just now, it appears you gave a considerable amount of money to a competitor in the race to ensure Jared's victory."

Cece opened her mouth to protest, but Olivia waved her aside. "No, please. I do not wish to hear the details. I simply have some advice. Should this situation ever arise again—not that I would encourage such activity, mind you: still I can see the temptation—choose where you put your money wisely. For goodness sakes, Cecily, if you are going to spend that much money, make certain Jared wins."

"Olivia, I—"

Olivia held up a firm hand. "I am not finished yet. Secondly, never, ever, under any circumstances, let the boy find out what you've done." She leaned toward her, as if to share a confidence. "Men are so much happier believing they know everything than when they actually do."

Quentin snorted in disgust. Emily grinned.

Cece stared at Olivia and at once realized the woman had just given her approval, and more, her support. But was it too late? Now that she had the respect of the mother, did she have nothing more than contempt from the son?

"You have to tell Jared the truth," Quentin said quietly.

"I don't know." Cece shook her head. She couldn't seem to think past the searing ache that enveloped her every time she remembered the devastating look of betrayal in his eyes. She clasped her hands together and noted the black soot still covering her skin. Her state of disrepair had completely slipped her mind.

"I can't, Quentin." She cast him a tired smile. "That's the one thing I do know right now." She held her hands out in a gesture of dismay. "I also know that I am nothing short of a disaster. So. if you will all forgive me. I shall return to the castle in hopes of finding a hot bath and clean clothes."

She nodded pleasantly to the trio and strode off toward the castle, head held high, back ramrod straight and step brisk. From this angle she was certain no one would notice the tears trickling down her face, or the trembling of her chin.

Or the crack in her heart.

"She certainly does carry herself like a countess." Olivia said approvingly, her gaze on Cecily's determined march back to the castle.

"I'd say Jared's a lucky man," Quentin said.

"Indeed." Olivia nodded.

"A very lucky man." Emily said staunchly. "He does not deserve her."

"Loyalty' is to be commended, my dear." Olivia's voice was deceptively mild. "However, you should take care as to when and where you display it."

Emily blushed, and Olivia smiled forgivingly. "However, in this case I certainly can understand your point. Quentin"—she cast him a steady gaze—"I believe you have some information I might find useful."

He stared, his gaze searching hers. Finally he sighed in defeat, as if he knew any protest would be futile.

"It's about James," he began.

It was worse than Olivia had suspected. Cecily and Quentin were right. This would devastate Jared. But there was no choice in the matter: Jared had the right to know the truth. As difficult as it was, Olivia refused to sacrifice the future happiness of a living son for the reputation of a dead one.

Telling Jared would not be easy. Quentin's story was not an easy thing to hear. She would have to deal with her own reactions to James's treachery privately.

A wry smile touched her lips at the odd twists this day had taken. After all her scheming and plotting and planning to test Cecily's worthiness to be Jared's wife, there was one test she could not devise. One quality she could not control. One attribute, above all others, she would wish for in her son's wife. And the girl had passed without question.

It was the final test.

The ultimate test.

The test of love.

Cece paced back and forth in her room in the castle. A soothing bath and a change of clothes had refreshed her body, but nothing could revive her spirit. Her mind was a turmoil of emotion and thought and pain.

There was only one real solution to her dilemma, only one way to resolve this crisis with Jared. But telling him the truth was not an option. No, she had to think of some other way to reach him. Some other way to convince him she did indeed have faith in his motorcar and in him. Some other way to prove her love.

She stopped short and stared unseeing at a point far beyond the walls of her room. What if she failed? What if Jared could not forgive her? What if the love he held for her had vanished? What then? Would he abandon her? Would he break off their engagement?

A sudden thought struck her and her breath caught. Surely Jared would believe it was his duty to marry her. He had committed himself publicly, and honor forbid his retracting now. But what kind of a marriage would it be? Cold and lifeless and without love? She would not, could not, condone such a state.

And why not, if that is the only way to spend my life with the man I love?

She slumped onto the bed at the devastating revelation. Were these the depths to which she had sunk? Was this the woman who wanted to forge into the twentieth century in the footsteps of Nellie Bly? Had love turned her into a silly twit of a girl more than willing to marry a man who might possibly despise her because she could not bear the thought of Irving without him? A girl weak and cowardly and pathetic.

Dear Lord, what had happened to her? She could never abide such a life. She buried her face in her hands. No. Even if it meant struggling with the agony of his loss forever, she would not submit to a lifetime in his presence but without his love.

She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around herself. Think! There had to be a way out of this. A logical, rational solution. She racked her brain for an idea, any idea. At this point it didn't have to be particularly interesting, just viable. But her mind was too filled with the bitter ache of his final words to concentrate.

Perhaps if she got out in the fresh air? It was only midaftemoon. So very much had happened in such a short time. A long walk might clear her head. It would at least give her something to do, something to ease her restlessness, something to keep her busy. She always did think better when she was busy.

She stepped to the door with newfound determination. She would come up with an answer. After all, she was an American, and Americans never accepted defeat. Why, no one enjoyed a good fight better than a patriotic American. Cece was nothing if not patriotic. And this would likely be the fight of her life.

She squared her shoulders and flung open the door. She would do whatever she must to win back Jared's love, and better, his respect.

She nodded firmly and marched through the doorway. Yes, a long walk would do it.

Or, better yet. a long drive.

"I came as soon as I heard."

Phoebe glanced up at the well-remembered voice. She'd selected this bench in a relatively secluded spot in the castle garden to savor a quiet moment alone and collect her tumultuous thoughts. Her hands still trembled at how close she'd come this morning to losing her daughter.

Robin strode toward her, and she suppressed a sigh of resignation. He was the last person she wished to see now, and a confrontation the last thing she wanted.