The Wedding Affair (38 page)

“I hope no one’s trying to blame
me
for it. Anyone foolish enough to walk around on those slimy stones deserves a fall.”

“You know how females can be,” Simon said, and hoped his mother would never get wind of what he’d said. “She’d like to see the whole lot pulled down. Now you and I are men of the world…”

“Indeed we are,” Sir Jasper said. “And this is about far more than a set of ruins, isn’t it, Your Grace? I’d consider pulling the rest of the abbey down, if…”

Simon’s fingers itched with the desire to push Sir Jasper’s oily voice down his throat. “If…?”

“I should say,
when
we come to an arrangement. That’s a lovely lady you were just waltzing with. Of course, things aren’t always as they seem. What’s it worth to you, Your Grace, to find out why Lady Reyne is really here in Steadham, and what happened to her husband?”

***

The dancing was already well under way when Kate reached the ballroom, for Emily had insisted on walking in by herself rather than letting a footman carry her. Kate supposed the injured bridesmaid thought she made a more sympathetic picture than if she’d merely been carried through the crowd to the small sofa that had been reserved for her. But it took forever for Emily to hop the full length of one of Halstead’s main-floor wings with a walking stick, wincing as she tried to protect both her sprained ankle and her bruised shoulder.

By the time Kate had pulled the sofa around to give Emily the best view, propped her injured foot up on pillows, and arranged her ruffled skirt to the bridesmaid’s satisfaction, the first group of country dances was coming to an end.

“Here comes Mr. Carlisle,” Emily said in a voice loud enough to carry over the music. “I hope he’s not planning to prose on to me about Latin, for none of the other gentlemen will come around if he does.”

Kate set a chair next to the sofa in a position that would not require Emily to turn her head to an uncomfortable angle to chat. But Andrew only made a sketchy bow to the bridesmaid. “I have no Latin prepared for you, Miss Emily. Miss Blakely, may I sign your dance card for the set that is just coming up?”

“I am not planning to dance tonight, Mr. Carlisle.”

Andrew looked around. “Why not? The vicar seems not to be present.”

“I do not base my decisions on the vicar’s opinions,” Kate said, more sharply than she had intended, and she watched Andrew’s eyes narrow. “In any case, Miss Emily needs me.”

Lady Stone craned her neck around a nearby pillar. “Nonsense. The foolish girl is perfectly safe here, and I’ll keep an eye on her. Go and have fun.”

Emily looked horrified. She seemed to think that even listening to Latin would be better than being supervised by Lady Stone.

Andrew offered his arm. “The set is forming, Miss Blakely. I see the archbishop already in position with the duchess. Unless you’d prefer to stroll about the room so we can chat?”

Outnumbered, Kate surrendered.

“If the vicar’s opinion is no longer of interest to you,” Andrew said, “then you must have refused him after all.”

Valid though his conclusion was, the casual statement annoyed Kate in more ways than she could count.

“I thought you said you would not answer him until after the wedding. What did he do, Kate, to make you reject him now? And what do you plan to do instead, with the security of the vicarage no longer in your future?”

I wish I knew
, Kate thought.

Andrew looked down at her. “My offer is still open.”

Kate’s breath froze for an instant before she remembered what he was talking about. “Coming with you to the wilds to organize your travel? Do be serious, Mr. Carlisle.” Kate took her place among the dancers, ending up a couple of positions down the set from Olivia and Viscount Chadwick. Kate hoped the young man would prove more adept in the ballroom than he had on the archery range.

At least it was a country dance, not a waltz—and, she realized, as long as she stayed on the ballroom floor Andrew could not quiz her further. So Kate danced one set after another, barely noticing her steps.

The satisfaction of having said her piece to the vicar had died away as the hours slipped by, and though Kate knew she could never regret the decision she had made or the fact she had stood up for herself, reality had begun to settle in. Losing one more option from the pitifully few at her disposal stung. Her time at Halstead was coming to a close. Her hopes, so high when the duchess had first offered the opportunity, had sagged to nothing. There seemed no one except the colonel who wanted a secretary, and no one—at least no one she could bear—who might hire a companion.

Penny was settled; at least Kate was reasonably certain that since neither the Earl nor the Countess of Townsend had appeared for the ball, they were having their own private party upstairs. And as for Olivia… Perhaps she had a point in choosing to be the duke’s mistress, Kate thought as the first waltz started and Olivia whirled about the room in Simon’s arms. Tonight, at least, Olivia seemed contented. Kate alone was at loose ends.

Reluctantly, she returned to the corner where Emily sat. “You’ve been having a good time,” the bridesmaid said between clenched teeth. “You were supposed to stay beside me.”

Lady Stone intervened. “The secret to a satisfying relationship with a companion, Miss Emily, is to make the expectations clear. For instance, I expect my companions to be saucy, pert, and opinionated—so not just anyone will satisfy.”

The duke and Olivia came up to them, and Emily dimpled prettily as she chatted to the duke. He stayed a moment and then excused himself and moved off. Kate saw Olivia watching him wistfully.

Lady Stone’s beady gaze rested expectantly on Kate. “I’ve been watching you this week. You would do for the post, if you’re interested. I’d hate to see you wasted on the colonel.”

Saucy. Pert. Opinionated. Yes
, Kate thought,
I can do that.
“I’m very interested.”

“Good. We shall consider it settled and discuss the details tomorrow.”

Emily shifted fretfully on her couch. “I want a cold drink.”

Kate didn’t realize Andrew had returned until he said, “Miss Blakely and I will fetch it.”

Still overcome by the sudden shift in her circumstances, and feeling dazed at the idea of working for Lady Stone, Kate obediently took Andrew’s arm to go down the hall to where refreshments were laid out.

They were barely outside the ballroom when Andrew said, “You’re to be Lady Stone’s companion?” His voice dripped disbelief.

“I gather you’ve been eavesdropping again.”

“It seems to be the only way to discover anything where you’re concerned!”

“Kindly do not lecture me, Mr. Carlisle. I had my fill of that this afternoon.”

“So you did turn the vicar down. Or was he ungallant enough to withdraw his offer?”

“The question is insulting.”
Even though it cuts uncomfortably close to the truth.

Caught up in her own feelings, Kate almost missed the low-voiced conversation going on in the corner of the refreshment room until she heard Olivia’s name. Only then did she realize that the man who was face to face with the duke—the man who was talking about Olivia’s late husband—was Sir Jasper Folsom.

Now Kate knew where the vicar had heard the gossip about Olivia. And she had a fairly good idea of what Sir Jasper had told him, and what he was now telling the duke.

She turned to Andrew, eyes wide. “Do something to stop him! I’m going to warn Olivia.”

***

Penelope’s ball gown and petticoats had slid off the bed and lay rumpled on the carpet. Candles glowed around the bed, and she felt a delicious lassitude as she lay curled against her husband. Her left hand lay against his chest, the gold of her wedding ring gleaming in the candlelight as she savored the strong beat of his heart against her palm. “Where were you planning to go,” she asked lazily, “when you said you weren’t coming back to London?”

“Stoneyford, of course. I’ve camped out in worse conditions.” He smoothed her hair back from her face and twisted the full length of a curl around his finger.

“But you must come to London. We need to sell my jewelry at once so we know what moneys you will have to work with.”

“At that moment, my plan did not include your jewels.”

“Then you need a new plan,” Penelope said firmly, “for I want to be a partner in this effort.”

“At least wait till I’ve told you what I want to do before you agree. If we spend your money on the house as you suggested, we could restore a wing. We’d have a place to live, but the land would still be unprofitable. If instead you are willing to invest in the land, then I can make the estate pay—and with luck, sooner or later we may rebuild the entire house and make it our home. That is what I asked of your father, in my letter—to invest in the land.”

Penelope was startled. “Not the house?”

He shook his head. “I cannot justify spending on the house because it will not turn a profit. But if this plan is not to your liking…”

“The jewels are yours now, sir. I have confidence you will use them to best advantage. But if I choose to spend my pin money on the house, you will not object?”

“The decision is up to you. But enough about business tonight. If we are going to be partners in this, Penny, I should like to hear you use my name.”

She whispered, “Charles,” and felt her world shift again as he smiled at her.

He pulled away and came back a moment later with her jewel case. Slowly he sorted out the contents, putting each piece on her. “How did I miss the amethyst and garnet necklace before?” he muttered, clasping it around her throat. He pinned the yellow diamond brooch into her curls as though it was a hair clip and fastened a particularly gaudy bracelet around her slender ankle.

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked finally, as he laid the empty case aside.

“I’m arranging all your gifts to me so they will adorn the best gift of all.” And before she could think it through, he was kissing her again. “I want to hear you say my name while I am inside you,” he said against her lips.

Before the night was out, she had said his name, shrieked it, whispered it, murmured it… and each time, she fell more deeply in love.

***

As soon as Sir Jasper had gone, Simon tossed back his brandy, hoping it would burn out the ugly aftertaste of the man’s words. He put the brandy glass down with a thump and went back to the ballroom to seek out Olivia.

She was going down the set with his friend Warren, and Simon leaned against a pillar and watched her with appreciation. The slim, dainty figure—had he once thought her too slender, her bosom not generous enough? How wrong he had been, when her breasts were exactly the right size to fill his hands. She was incredibly graceful, spinning through the figures of the dance in a way which made every other woman in the set look as clumsy as an elephant.

What was happening to him, anyway? When she’d first come into the drawing room tonight, he’d been afraid she was still angry. Then she had smiled… and he had felt as if the floor was sliding out from under his feet.

He remembered thinking how stunningly beautiful she was. But surely it was odd that he had been startled, for her beauty was the first thing to attract him.

No, on the contrary. He had thought her unusual and striking, but far from his usual idea of beauty. Then he had made love to her and found her both lovely and beautiful. But in the last day or so, he must have stopped noticing she was beautiful. She had become simply Olivia…

He wished he’d had another brandy, even though the fire of the alcohol hadn’t washed out the taste of Sir Jasper’s words.

Nothing would, he realized, except perhaps clearing the air with Olivia.

***

Kate wanted to run back into the ballroom, but she knew hurrying was the worst thing she could do. Drawing attention to herself and to Olivia right now would only make matters worse.

When she rejoined Lady Stone and Olivia beside the invalid’s couch, Emily said fretfully, “Where’s the cold drink you promised, Miss Blakely?”

Olivia smiled. “Where did you lose Mr. Carlisle, Kate? That can’t have been easy.”

“I need a moment with you,” Kate said under her breath. Drawing Olivia away, she added, “Sir Jasper is in the refreshment room, and he’s telling the duke about you—and Lord Reyne.”

Olivia closed her eyes for an instant. When she opened them, she was pale but resolute.

“I’m so sorry,” Kate said.

“I’m not. I’m glad I seized the opportunity.”

Olivia’s partner for the next set presented himself, and with a smile that would have fooled most people—though not Kate—she went off to dance.

Seizing opportunities
, Kate thought. She’d done some of that herself of late, though taking a job with Lady Stone—or even telling off the vicar—really didn’t compare with having an affair with the Duke of Somervale. At least working for Lady Stone would be more interesting than chaperoning girls like Emily, and the old lady did seem sincere in preferring honesty over mealy-mouthed agreement.