Two Beaux and a Promise Collection (15 page)

“That will work. And perhaps I can weave some Christmas magic into our discussions – peace on earth and the like. ’Tis the season to dismiss old grudges and start anew in the spirit of good will. You might try that with Giles, too. He and Diana must either accept their differences or part before it is too late.”  Silver eyes stared up at him, limpid pools sparkling in the sunlight streaming—

He pulled himself together. “You make parting sound easy. It isn’t.”

“You would know.”

He waited for the inevitable questions, but she said nothing, merely staring into his eyes. Perhaps that’s why he found himself sharing thoughts he’d not even told the Beaux. “Ending a betrothal is never easy, even when everyone agrees. And it leaves lingering questions. I still can’t understand my stupidity. How could I have thought us suited?”

“Everyone makes mistakes.”

“I know that!” he snapped, then strode to the window so he could tighten the reins on his temper. “Mistakes happen every day – walking into Tattersall’s when the one man you need to avoid is standing just inside the door, or misplacing your favorite hat, or not suspecting that an unusually spicy sauce is hiding bad fish. But that betrothal was more than a mistake. It was a case of atrocious judgment. Why didn’t I see it?  How many other ways am I blind?  How the devil can I stay in a job where faulty judgment can cost the Crown so dearly?”  Not until she grabbed his wrist did he realize he was tearing at his hair.

“Sit down, Charles. No one expects you to be perfect.”

“My father does.”

“Then he is stupid.”

He was so surprised, he let her push him into a chair. “Stupid?”

“Exactly. He must know that no one is perfect. If he holds you to a higher standard than is humanly possible, then he’s an idiot. I don’t care what his motive is. Comparing people to impossible ideals never works.”

“But he doesn’t consider his standards impossible,” he snapped back. “He adheres to them himself, so why shouldn’t others?”

“That has nothing to do with perfection,” she countered. “That is demanding that you make the same choices he does – which is absurd. There are many acceptable choices in life. One is no more right than another.”

“It is when it creates scandal. That damnable betrothal—”

“Surely a man of his background cannot expect you to wed someone who would make you miserable.”

“No, but he had plenty to say about my judgment. I should never have jumped into that betrothal to begin with. And I certainly should not have done so without discussing it with him first. To prevent a recurrence, he is taking matters into his own hands by choosing a wife for me. Thank God duty keeps me here instead of at home this Christmas.”

“Which proves he is stupid. A man who teaches that marriage should encompass love and fidelity cannot expect an arranged match to work. And denigrating your judgment proves that his own is flawed.”

“What—”

She swept on. “I’ve heard no tales that suggest your judgment is faulty, Charles. If there was any evidence, you can be sure Lady Beatrice would notice,” she added, naming London’s most prominent gossip, who prided herself on knowing everything. “Everyone takes a wrong step at times. Competent men recognize those wrong steps. If their characters are strong, they immediately retreat – as you did last Season. If they are weak, they freeze, bemoaning Fate or blaming others until everything collapses onto their heads. Stupid men never recognize that they are wrong. They forge ahead even after it is obvious to everyone else that they will fail. You are intelligent enough to recognize that a misstep you rectified months ago cannot mar your otherwise excellent judgment.”

“You’ve a unique perspective.”  His head was whirling.

“And a forward tongue. Lecturing you is impertinent, so I must beg forgiveness. I have been instructing people too long, I fear.”  She shook her head.

“That wasn’t a criticism. You are making me reconsider ideas. No friend could do more.”

“You claim your betrothal was a case of bad judgment. Since I’m already guilty of hopeless impertinence, I’ll ask what you mean.”

He shrugged. “I let lust blind me.”

She waited silently until he again felt compelled to continue.

“Emily was my best friend’s sister, making lust inappropriate. So I convinced myself I loved her.”

“A reasonable assumption, given your family’s history.”

“A stupid assumption. Just because she’d turned into a lovely lady since I’d last seen her didn’t change that I’d treated her as a sister most of her life. When push came to shove, she remained more Richard’s little sister than anything else.”

“You blame yourself for twisting attraction into love.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Of course. I should have recognized the truth far sooner – I didn’t offer for her until a month after she reached town.”

“But you did recognize the truth, and in time to rectify your mistake. I see nothing odd about you tumbling into such an imbroglio. A rake of your renown must be attracted to many women. Only friendship pushed you to twist the attraction in that case. Now that you recognize the trap, it won’t happen again.”

“My friends have no more sisters.”

“See?  The problem is gone.”

His head whirled faster, for she’d somehow twisted his stupidity into a minor irritation rather than the earth-shattering dilemma that had plagued him for months. He opened his mouth to question her further, but she again surprised him by turning away.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have several tasks to see to before Diana returns. Lady Russell will be unhappy if they are not done.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted her to leave or stay, so he merely nodded. “Very well, Edith. And I’ll take care of Russell.”

The moment she left, he paced to the fireplace and back, pondering the past half hour. He felt as though she’d torn him apart then pasted him back together in a totally new way.

All his life Inslip had loomed just over his shoulder, watching every move he made. Though he loved his father with a devotion he accorded no other man, that constant watchfulness had never been comfortable – probably because Inslip had never been satisfied with his behavior. No matter what Charles did, Inslip found fault. Knowing that his best was never good enough stripped most of the enjoyment from his achievements and kept him in constant fear that others would note the same faults Inslip saw so clearly. He had never considered that Inslip himself might be wrong…

Until now.

He cautiously reviewed their most recent clashes in light of Edith’s interpretation, fearful that he would discover a flaw in her reasoning. But she was right. Inslip wasn’t all-knowing or all-seeing. He was merely a man who, believing his own ways were best, expected his sons to follow precisely in his footsteps. But striking out on his own did not mean Charles was wrong.

Relief flooded him. And the return of confidence. He
was
competent. He
was
intelligent. He
could
negotiate with Schechler to a mutually satisfying end.

And he had Edith to thank for it. She had a knack for seeing past the surface to the core of a problem. And she had a knack for convincing people to reveal more than they considered reasonable. He’d actually shared his fears with her. If she told others—

But she wouldn’t. He didn’t know why, since she was nothing like he’d expected, but he trusted her.

He shook his head over the impressions he’d formed last Season. He should have recognized that her stammering had arisen from embarrassment rather than stupidity. Thrusting her into the public eye with his droll recounting of the cream cake affair would have revived memory of every cut she’d received after her father’s death. She’d made one small mistake by tripping on the carpet and landing against him. If she hadn’t been carrying a plate of pastries, the incident wouldn’t have rated more than passing notice. But her squirming as she tried to rise had literally plastered him with cream cake. To divert attention from his embarrassment, he’d figuratively rubbed her face in the incident instead of letting her recover her poise.

His guilt increased when he realized that his ridicule might have directed Russell’s attention to her. Had that attack been his fault?

Recalling how shaken she’d been when he’d pulled Russell away revived his fury. Russell deserved more punishment than mere exile. Perhaps he should personally escort the cad to the docks…

He went in search of his host.

But Sir Waldo was nowhere to be found. An emergency had demanded personal attention. No one knew when he would return.

— 6 —

Christmas Eve dawned colder than ever, though that didn’t stop everyone from gathering to collect greenery. Excitement mounted as people filled the hall and spilled into adjacent rooms. For the moment, the magic of Christmas pushed all other concerns aside. Wedding plans, negotiations, even grudges didn’t matter today.

Or so Charles hoped as he pushed through the crowd. He wasn’t up to facing trouble. Though he’d gone to bed full of hope for the morrow, dreams had plagued his sleep, leaving him groggy. The lascivious ones of Edith hadn’t surprised him – he often dreamed of women who stirred his passions. What disturbed him was the jumble of Inslip’s worst lectures overlaid with crashing thunder and ominous fog. Threats seemed to hover just out of sight. He’d no idea of their form, but they promised a disaster he couldn’t escape.

Enough!
  He shoved the images aside. He faced too many real problems to waste time fighting imaginary ones, especially when the imaginary ones did nothing but rehash old pains.

He finally spotted Edith and drew her into a corner. “I gave Miss Russell the amulet after breakfast,” he murmured. “She must wear it next to her heart if she wants it to work. The magic disappears at midnight.”

“I hope you can maneuver Giles into talking today, then.”  She sighed. “Diana was so sullen this morning, I fear it is too late.”

“We will see. Sir Waldo was gone yesterday, so I couldn’t talk to him about Russell, but I’ll see him as soon as possible. Until I do, take care that Russell doesn’t find you alone. I don’t trust him.”

“Nor do I, but he would never stoop to notice underlings when he is surrounded by his equals, so I’m safe enough.”

“Humor me. He is not behaving normally at the moment. Stay in sight. If I can speak with Merrimont, I’ll tug on my ear so you can lead Miss Russell close enough to hear.”

* * * *

Edith stayed with Diana as the group headed for the woods, wondering at the girl’s odd humor. Not only was Diana content with Edith’s company, but she avoided every man in the party. Edith hoped the amulet was responsible, but she couldn’t trust the change.

Jessup remained in his room, turning away all visitors. She’d meant to ask Charles about the man’s condition, but his sudden appearance at her side – and the heat of his fingers on her arm – had made her dizzy. She’d been too busy hiding her reaction to remember her questions. And too dull-witted, she admitted. Sleep had eluded her much of the night.

Now she feared that Jessup might have caused Diana’s malaise. Had he sent her another note?  If he’d heard about last evening’s high spirits, he might fear losing his chance to redeem his vowels.

Edith gripped her basket harder and stayed with Diana when the guests scattered. Charles had already followed Giles in another direction, so it was too late to warn him that Giles was reaching the end of his rope.

Diana had thrown herself into charades last night, laughing immoderately, flirting with every man in the room, and executing her pantomimes with so much sensuality that Giles had drawn Edith aside.

“Do something about her unseemly exuberance,” he’d hissed.

“Do you want her in hysterics?”  She’d been too irritated to temper her words.

“This frivolity has to stop. She’ll ruin herself – and me.”

Edith had sighed. “I agree, but controlling her will be difficult. It was a mistake to combine your wedding with Christmas. The excitement has gone to her head.”

He’d blinked. “Is that what it is?”

“What else?  She is only seventeen, too young to completely control the most turbulent emotions. By next week, she should again be levelheaded. Another year will see her firmly settled.”

“If you say so.”  He clearly didn’t believe her.

“I do,” she’d insisted, praying it was true. “In the meantime, she needs support from both of us. For all her seeming poise, she lacks confidence – a common problem with longstanding beauties. They’ve been taught that their appearance defines their worth, yet they can’t truly trust that the accolades are sincere.”  She’d wanted to add that Giles’s silence increased Diana’s fears, but Riley had drawn him away. And perhaps that had been good. She had given him something to think about without triggering his defensive pride.

“Ah, Miss Russell!”  Mr. Tomling bowed theatrically before Diana, pulling Edith from her thoughts. “Beautiful, as always. A golden rose blooming in a sea of gray.”

Not quite accurate, decided Edith as Diana simpered. While some of the trees were gray, more were evergreen, and the guests wore cloaks in every color of the rainbow. But the compliment restored Diana’s spirits – probably because of the amulet, which would give it more weight than it deserved.

She was still wondering how to deal with this new problem when Diana sent Tomling off to cut mistletoe from a distant oak, then continued into the woods, making no protest when Edith followed.

“There!” the girl said five minutes later. “My favorite holly tree. It always has the best berries.”

“It’s lovely.”  The ancient tree grew against the rear of an empty woodcutter’s cottage. Had Diana arranged to meet Jessup inside?  Yet she invented no errand for Edith. Instead, she set down her basket and began cutting.

Their baskets were brimming by the time the cottage door creaked, alerting Edith to danger. To avoid overhearing a tryst, she reached out to draw Diana away, but Sir Waldo’s voice arrested her hand.

“Is this private enough for you?” he demanded.

“Quite.”  It was Charles. “This subject is too delicate to risk being overheard.”  He paused as if gathering his courage. “I dislike meddling in your affairs, but if I remain silent, your family’s name will be dragged through the mud.”