Waltz With a Stranger (42 page)

“Look, dear heart,” he began, over her soft protestation, “I want you just as badly, in just the same way. But we
have
to do this right.” He touched her plait again with aching tenderness. “I want no shadows between us, no regrets, and no reproaches. Nothing to taint what we have.”

Longing, frustration, and a strange sense of pride in him all tangled inside of her at his words. “James—”

“One more day, Aurelia, to sever what must be severed. And then, I promise, we need never be apart again.” He cupped her cheek, traced the seam of her lips with his thumb. “It will be all the sweeter for the waiting—I promise that too.”

He was right, she knew, though that made the delay no easier to bear. Poised precariously between tears and laughter, she leaned against him, savoring his warmth and nearness while she could. “Honorable to the last,” she managed to choke out. “Is it any wonder that I love you?”

“No more than I love you.” He kissed her again, more gently this time. “Because you understand honor too. Now, go—before I change my mind and take you right here and now.”

He wanted her, as deeply and urgently as she wanted him. Aurelia knew enough about men’s bodies to sense that much. With persistence she could have overborne him, made him do as he threatened; instead, she detached herself reluctantly and stepped back, sighing. “
All
night
safe
sleeping
in
her
maidenhood
. No wonder Iseult of Brittany turned sour.”

He smiled, skimming a finger down her cheek—the scarred one. “‘
As
the
dawn
loves
the
sunlight
I
love
thee
,’” he quoted
.
“Sweet dreams, my love.”

Slightly mollified, she headed for the door. “Sweet dreams, my lord.”

“Aurelia?”

She paused with her hand on the knob. “Yes, James?”

“For what it’s worth, I expect to sleep very badly tonight.”

She gave him a look of pure mischief before whisking out of the room. “Good!”

I’ll have no husband if you be not he.

—William Shakespeare,
As
You
Like
It

“Mr. Pendarvis is here to see you, Sir Harry,” the Tresilians’ butler announced, entering the breakfast room the following morning. “And Lord Trevenan, your carriage has arrived.”

Sir Harry and James exchanged a glance, as did Aurelia and Sophie. “Thank you, Parsons. You may show Mr. Pendarvis in here.”

“And you may tell the coachman that Miss Newbold and I will be departing shortly,” James added. Aurelia felt his fingers brush hers under the table and hid a smile in her teacup.

“Very good, Sir Harry, my lord.” Parsons bowed and withdrew.

“Good morning, Rob,” Sir Harry greeted his friend as he strode into the room looking more than a little agitated, Aurelia observed with interest.

Mr. Pendarvis nodded almost absently. “Forgive the intrusion, Harry, but I’ve just heard that there was some trouble here yesterday, and someone was injured?” His gaze went at once to Sophie, who colored at this evidence of concern for her, but gave a small shake of her head.

“That would be me,” James replied. “But not seriously—a graze on the arm, nothing more. And I’m glad to say, the trouble’s been resolved.”

Mr. Pendarvis relaxed. “I’m relieved to hear it, Trevenan. Might I know the details?”

“I’m about to return to Pentreath, but Harry can fill you in.” James pushed back his chair and turned to Aurelia. “Are you ready to go, my dear?”

Aurelia nodded and rose, smiling around the table. “Thank you all for your hospitality.”

“You’re very welcome.” Sophie smiled back, even as her gaze kept drifting toward their latest visitor. “Would you care for some tea, Mr. Pendarvis? Or a bite of breakfast, perhaps?”

He hesitated, not looking at his host, but Sir Harry said, “Yes, take a plate and join us, Rob. I’ll tell you what happened, once I’ve seen James and Miss Aurelia on their way.”

The last thing Aurelia saw as she left the breakfast room was Sophie pouring tea for Mr. Pendarvis and looking more hopeful than she had for the last two days. So perhaps things would end well there, she mused, whatever shadows Mr. Pendarvis claimed were in his past.

Outside, the Pentreath coachmen presented James with a sealed note from his aunt, which he slipped into his pocket for the present. Bidding farewell to Sir Harry, he and Aurelia climbed into the carriage and settled back in comfort against the cushioned seat.

Alone
together
. Aurelia found herself smiling, despite knowing what awaited them both at Pentreath. Breaking the news to Amy and even Charlie…she couldn’t help but quail at the thought. But neither could she regret that she and James would finally be together, and that soon they could bring their love out into the open.

He touched her cheek, a feather-light caress that made her tingle. “Tired, dear heart?”

“A little,” she admitted. “But mostly preoccupied.”

He said gently, “I’ll do my best to spare Amy’s feelings, when I tell her.”

“I know you will.” She laid her hand over his. “I fear I have a heart to bruise as well.”

“Vandermere.” To his credit, he spoke the name without even the slightest grimace.

She nodded. “To tell the truth, I’m dreading it. I believe he was sincere about wanting another chance with me. And I thought—I owed it to him to try, for old times’ sake. But I’m not the girl I was then. We’ve both changed too much to go back to the way things were.”

“Would you have married him, if we hadn’t both come to our senses?”

“Not after you kissed me. That clarified things considerably.” Lacing her fingers with his, she decided that a change of subject was in order. “What does Lady Talbot say in her note?”

He took out the note, opened it, and scanned the contents. “Mainly that she’s relieved we came to no serious harm. And that Helena and Durward have departed for Wiltshire, though Helena wishes to convey her thanks for uncovering the truth about Gerald’s death.”

“Under the circumstances, I’d say that was the least she could do,” Aurelia observed tartly. “But it’s a start, I suppose. Anything else?”

James looked up from the page, frowning. “Thomas has also left, for London.”

“Heavens, that
is
unexpected!” Surely Mr. Sheridan hadn’t finished Amy’s portrait already; she wondered uneasily if hostilities had broken out again. “When did this happen?”

“Late yesterday afternoon. I hope nothing’s wrong there.”

***

Amy gazed about the schoolroom, now as desolate as a field after the traveling circus had departed. The wooden chair still stood where it had yesterday, and the props that were to have been used—the tapestry, the feathered fan, the crystal bowl—sat discarded on the low table. Gone were the easel, the canvases, the paints, the palette…and the artist.

Gone
. Between one hour and the next, it seemed, and with a stealth she could never have imagined, Sheridan had departed. And without a further word spoken between them.

This, after a revelation and a kiss that had sent her reeling. And now had her rethinking everything, especially the careful plans she’d made for the future.

Amy shivered, hugging herself against an inner chill. What she was contemplating now must be madness, sheer folly even. To change her mind, let her castles in the air go, on the strength of what she had seen in another man’s eyes…the practical, calculating Amy of one year ago—even three months ago—would never have considered such a thing.

But that girl hadn’t kissed Thomas Sheridan, or felt the ardent quiver of his body against hers, and her own body’s response to that—a response she’d had to no other man. Easy to explain away, of course: Sheridan was so much more experienced than she, and doubtless adept at rousing these feelings in women. But how, then, to explain her apparent effect on
him
? The hunger in those green eyes when he kissed her, the haunted look in them when he broke away?

Other memories crowded into her mind: Sheridan rescuing her from Glyndon and then thrashing him soundly, making him apologize in writing, listening without judgment to her doubts about life in Cornwall, laying aside his role of observer to waltz with her last night…

He
cares—and it frightens him. Because of what he lost before, in Elizabeth.
It frightened her too, and so did the hollow ache inside of her whenever she thought about not seeing him again. Or worse, seeing him when she was irrevocably tied to someone else.

“
I
will
not
dishonor
us
both. I will not betray James.”

Dear James, who deserved far better and for whom she hadn’t spared a thought since kissing Thomas. She’d given her word, along with her family’s money, to be his countess and the mistress of Pentreath. How could she even think of betraying him? But—wouldn’t marrying him when she suspected she cared more deeply for Thomas Sheridan be a worse betrayal?

No easy answer, but at the very least, she owed James honesty. So once he returned from Roswarne, she’d tell him of her doubts, and together they would decide what should be done.

Resolved, she left the schoolroom, closing the door behind her. As she descended the stairs, she heard the front door open, followed by the sound of two familiar voices. James and Relia—they were back! She quickened her pace, reached the first floor landing…and stopped dead when she caught sight of them in the entrance hall below.

They stood close together, not touching, not even speaking now, but in their stillness and silence Amy read a world of meaning. The resulting flash of insight was as blinding as the proverbial lightning bolt: her betrothed and her twin were in love.

Shock, then relief, crashed over her in waves, bringing with them a sense of release so powerful she could have burst into song—or hysterical laughter. What a mess they’d all managed to make of what ought to be the simplest thing in the world!

Simple—and she would do her best to set it right. How could Relia have kept such a secret from her for all this time? And how she must have suffered, believing James lost to her! And how Amy loved her for her selfless restraint!

But it would be better, far better, as it was.

She gave a light cough to gain their attention, and had to stifle a laugh when she saw how quickly they moved apart, their faces wearing almost identical expressions of guilt.

“Relia, James.” She smiled at them both. “I think—you have something to tell me?”

***

Neither James nor Amy could ever have imagined that the dissolution of their engagement would be so painless. And yet, given the liking and regard on both sides, perhaps it wasn’t so peculiar, James reasoned, reluctantly accepting the ring Amy insisted on returning.

“You are one of the finest women of my acquaintance,” he told her. “And you deserve a husband who can give you his whole heart on your marriage.”

“Thank you, James.” Amy regarded him with unrestrained affection. “I am fond of you too. Indeed, I esteem you above almost every man I know. But I think, upon reflection, that we may not suit as well as we first thought. And not merely because you and Relia love each other to distraction.” She paused, her expression growing pensive. “Even as your wife, I doubt I could ever be completely at home in Cornwall, while you are at home here as you are nowhere else. I’m not selfish enough to demand that you live in London, where you’d be miserable beyond a doubt. Fortunately, my sister seems to love Cornwall as much as she loves you.”

“Fortunate, indeed,” James agreed, pocketing the ring. “Although I think, in different circumstances, you and I would not have done so poorly together.”

“Probably not.” She smiled at him. “But I suspect you and Relia will do a great deal better than that.”

He returned her smile. “On that we’re agreed. May I—call you sister?”

“Indeed, you may. Dear brother.” Her smile turned wicked. “Better you any day than Stupid Charlie!”

***

“Mr. Vandermere—Charlie,” Aurelia paused, looking into the face of her first love, then made herself continue, “I cannot in good conscience allow you to persist in your courtship of me, nor offer you false hope. So much has changed in the last few days. Enough to make me understand that—we cannot go back to the way things were between us.”

Contrary to all expectation, it was painful to give pain to him, to see the hope in his face die away. He nodded once, twice, swallowing visibly. “I see. There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Aurelia confirmed. “I care for Lord Trevenan. And he cares for me as well.”

“But Amy—”

“She and Trevenan have ended their betrothal, amicably and with no ill will. As it turns out, Amy was having doubts as well.” Again she experienced that giddy sense of relief that she
hadn’t
ruined things for her twin.

“The Earl of Trevenan prefers you to Amy.” Charlie sounded almost dazed to hear it.

Aurelia raised her brows. “Is that so incomprehensible?”

Charlie flushed. “Of course not!
I
did! It’s just…” He floundered to a stop.

Taking pity on him, she explained, “It isn’t merely that Trevenan prefers me. It’s knowing that, when he looks at me, he doesn’t see someone broken and in need of mending.”

“You think that’s how I see you?” He sounded startled.

“Isn’t it?” she countered gently. “The truth now, Charlie.”

For a moment, she thought he’d continue to deny it. But from the bleakness in his eyes, she perceived that her accident was as sharply etched on his memory as on hers.

“I still remember—how you looked, that day…” He swallowed again. “So fragile. And I came to break your heart. I should have had more faith in my own.”

“I am sure the pressure and the expectations on you were enormous. Your parents wouldn’t have wanted you to wed an invalid. And I—well, I convinced myself it was the right thing to do, to offer to set you free.” That she had hoped he’d refuse to go had been her mistake, or rather, her naïvete. What had she told James? She’d made it easy for Charlie to leave her, and so he’d gone. But not, she realized now, without regrets or doubts…or shame.

He shook his head. “You don’t have to make excuses for me, Aurelia. I spoiled everything that was between us, through my own selfishness and cowardice.”

“And so you tried to make up for it, by courting me again.”

“I’d hoped there was a way back, for both of us.”

“I think, for a time, I hoped the same. But we aren’t the same people we were then.” She managed a smile. “We can’t go back, my dear, so we must go on—separately.”

He gave a jerky nod. “I have never met your equal. I never will.”

Aurelia’s eyes stung. “Hush! I think, in time, you will meet someone who is right for you now. Clinging to the old dream wouldn’t be fair to either of us. But I can remember that dream fondly now, without bitterness or regret.”

“Truly?” His eyes were suspiciously moist, but she saw the shadow of hope in them yet.

“The girl I was can forgive the boy you were, long ago,” she told him. “And the woman I am now wishes you only the best. You tried to make amends, Charlie, belatedly but sincerely. I will always—esteem you for that.”

“Might I,” Charlie cleared his throat, “might I kiss you—one last time?”

Aurelia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her first love cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. Tentative and sweet, like the children they had been—because Charlie hadn’t been so very much older than she, nor so much more worldly. If matters had been different, they might have married and lived to a contented old age together. But things being as they were…this kiss was a shadow, compared to what she had found with James.

She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Be happy, dear Charlie. You do deserve to be.”

“So do you,” he said, his voice oddly choked. “You deserve every blessing life has to offer. I hope Trevenan agrees.”

Aurelia smiled. “He does, I assure you.” Then, knowing how painful it must be for him to hear her talk about James and herself, she asked, “Will you and your family be staying in England for the rest of the summer?”