A Perfect Likeness (28 page)

“I cannot believe you, Felix, and you have only yourself to blame for that.” Her heart was thundering and she was afraid, but she tried not to show it.

“Is this leopard not to be allowed to change his spots?”

“A leopard
cannot
change his spots, sir,” she replied. “Now, will you please let me out?”

“Will you call out if I do not?” He smiled a little. “No, you will not, for if you do, then Sebastian might learn of it, and you do not want that to happen, do you?”

“You have said that you love me, Felix,” she said coldly, “but already you resort to threats and blackmail. I don’t want to marry you, sir, I don’t even particularly like you.”

“But you like my cousin, don’t you, hmm?”

Her face felt hot. “I am going to marry him. Now, please let me go.”

“Very well.” He suddenly stood aside, gesturing toward the door. “Go, if you wish.”

She stared at him and then hesitantly came forward, but the moment her hand was on the door, he seized her, dragging her roughly into his arms and stifling her cries with a kiss. She struggled, her heart beginning to pound unbearably, but her strength was as nothing compared with his. His fingers coiled tightly in her hair, and his kiss became more ardent, as if nothing would prevent him now from possessing her completely, here, in the concealing, secret darkness of the conservatory.

Then, from almost beyond the edge of her consciousness, she heard Delphine’s voice calling her from the quadrangle. With a curse, Felix released her, and she needed no second bidding to scramble away from him, flinging open the door to hurry out into the cool darkness of the quadrangle.

Delphine turned in surprise, looking at her disheveled appearance. “Bryony? Whatever’s the matter?”

The door of the conservatory swung slowly to behind her and she glanced back almost fearfully, but Felix did not emerge. Everything was silent. She trembled a little with relief, and managed a slightly rueful smile for Delphine’s benefit. “I’m afraid that I went in to take another look at Felix’s
salle d’armes,
but my hair and gown got entangled with the plants and I couldn’t get free. It was quite horrid.”

Delphine smiled. “It’s happened to me before now. But isn’t Felix in there? The steward told me that was where he was—”

“If he is, he was very quiet while I was struggling with the oranges.” Bryony swallowed, glancing away for a moment. Behind her all was still silent, but he must have been able to hear every word.

“My brother is quite mean enough at times to do just that. But I don’t want to talk about Felix, Bryony, I’ve been waiting for you to return from Tremont so that I could try again to reason with you about this match. Everything that happened tonight was horrid, and that is how it will always be. Can you really contemplate such an existence?”

“As I said before, I really do not have any choice. I have even less now that I have silently but publicly consented to the betrothal tomorrow night.”

Delphine studied her for a moment, the moonlight falling silver-gray upon her pretty heart-shaped face. “Why
did
he make that announcement tonight? You and I both know that no final agreement had been reached, and certainly neither Mother nor Felix knows anything about it.”

“I don’t know why,” said Bryony quickly.

“So tomorrow night you will wear his ring?”

“Yes.”

“You need not.”

“Oh, Delphine—”

“No, please, I must say it again. Let me meet Liskillen’s debts for you, Bryony, and then you will be free to go back to County Down and the happy life you knew before. If you do not take this offer now, you may be sure that you will never be happy again.”

Bryony stared at her. “No,” she said after a moment, “I still cannot accept, but I am truly grateful for your help.”

“Help?” Delphine gave an unexpectedly ironic laugh. “How can I
help
when you spurn my every effort?” With that she turned and walked swiftly away.

“Delphine!”

But Delphine did not look back. Her mauve skirts fluttered as she hurried toward the porch. Surprised, Bryony gazed after her, but then she heard a small sound from the conservatory. Gathering her own skirts, she hurried away, vanishing into the porch just as she heard the conservatory door close softly behind her.

The great hall was silent and there was no sign of Delphine. The smell of freshly sawn wood was heavy and she noticed that the arbor was almost finished, its bare outline revealed by the moonlight shining in through the colored windows opposite. Tomorrow the whole hall would be decked with flowers and would be filled with laughter and music. And tomorrow, in this very chamber, she would pledge herself to Sebastian Sheringham.... Slowly she walked toward the grand staircase, her silk train rustling over the glazed tiles on the floor.

She tossed restlessly in her bed that night. Sleep would not come, too many thoughts struggled for prominence in her head, and too many doubts crowded in upon her now that she was at this eleventh hour. The bed felt hot and uncomfortable, the room seemed to be stuffy, and at last she could bear it no more and slipped from the bed to open the window. As she did so, she heard the sound of raised voices coming from Delphine’s apartment nearby.

Puzzled, she listened for a moment. Delphine was arguing with someone; it sounded like Felix. Curiosity got the better of her then and she picked up her wrap, tying it around her waist as she crept softly from her apartment and along the deserted gallery to Delphine’s door. Candlelight glowed beneath it, and the voices were louder now.

“Felix, it’s no business of yours what I say or do!”

“It’s entirely my business, you are my sister and still my responsibility. Besides, what you did tonight you did knowing perfectly well that it was against my express wish!”

“I want to know how you know about it. No one else was there—”

“It doesn’t matter
how
I know, it matters only that I
do
know. You interfered in something you know I have strictly forbidden either you or Mother to dabble with again.”

“But it would be better if she returned to Ireland!”

Bryony stiffened a little. Inside, Felix was silent for a moment. “Maybe so, Delphine, but she must not go just yet, is that clear? I want her here for the time being.”

“Why?”

“That, sister mine, does not concern you!”

Delphine laughed then, a scornful sound which rang out very clearly. “I
know
why, Felix!”

“Have a care, Delphine,” he replied softly, “have a great care.”

She heard him approaching the door and fled back to her own apartment, listening as he went quietly past. There was silence again, and when she peeped out, she saw that there was no longer any candlelight glowing beneath Delphine’s door.

She lay in her bed again, thinking about what she had overheard. She had been right about Felix, he
was
false—but what exactly was he up to? Sebastian had said that his interest in her was based solely on the fact that she was to become Lady Sheringham, and somehow she now believed that that was true. Tonight Felix had agreed with Delphine that it would be better if Bryony St. Charles returned to Ireland, but he was most anxious that she did not go just yet. Why? What was to happen in the meantime?

It was almost dawn before she at last fell asleep, and with sleep came the dreams. Faces came to her from the darkness, their eyes veiled and their smiles secret, but when she was awoken the following morning, the last image from those dreams was of Sebastian as he leaned forward to kiss her in front of everyone at Tremont. She opened her eyes to see the sunlight pouring into the room, and she could hear the cheer which had greeted that kiss, but then the cheer became the shouts of the workmen as they put the finishing touches to the great hall.

Sally leaned over her, appearing out of the sunlight. She smiled. “Good morning, Miss Bryony, it’s a lovely day, just perfect for a water party.”

The duchess’s wheelchair could be heard long before it appeared in the quadrangle, emerging from the porch pushed by a strong footman. The bright sunlight seemed to dazzle the old lady for a moment, and she shielded her eyes with a hand clad in a black lace fingerless mitten. She wore somber charcoal-gray silk, a rather dull color for the day of the summer ball, but then her visage was scarcely cheering either, for her lips were pursed in a particularly sour manner and her eyes bore an expression which boded ill for anyone who happened to cross her.

As Bryony waited with Delphine beside the open barouche, ready to leave for the water party, she was suddenly reminded of Felix on the day he had returned from London. His expression then had been exactly as his mother’s was now—mean, spiteful, and filled with the hardness of one who easily bore grudges, and who did not lightly forget any insult, imagined or otherwise.

The chair halted before the two young women and the duchess glanced briefly at her daughter, hardly lingering on the turquoise sprigged-muslin dress, the pale pink velvet jockey hat and trailing white scarf, or the unbuttoned pink spencer which so neatly revealed the many golden chains she wore around her neck. With a slight sniff, which signified to Bryony that all was not well between mother and daughter, the duchess waved Delphine into the carriage. Delphine obeyed, her face unsmiling, and when she was seated, she kept her head averted so that she would not accidentally catch her mother’s eye again.

The duchess watched her for a moment, her thin fingers tapping irritably on the silver handle of her
cane. “Don’t think to play the high-and-mighty with me, my lady, for you are hardly in a position to do so. I am extremely displeased with you, and your brother is entirely right to censure you for what you have so foolishly tried to do.”

Delphine’s cheeks colored a little, but she still did not look at the upright figure in the chair. Bryony glanced from one to the other, guessing straightaway that the ill feeling had arisen because of Delphine’s offer to settle Liskillen’s debts, an offer which Felix had overheard when hiding away in the conservatory the night before. That was why he had been so angry with his sister the night before, and could only be why the duchess was offended with her now.

Then the duchess seemed to forget her daughter, turning her gaze upon Bryony instead. Her cold eyes moved slowly over the yellow-and-white-striped lawn gown, the white fringed shawl with its border of embroidered yellow flowers, and the straw bonnet with its especially wide ribbons. “Somewhat provincial garb for an elegant water party, missy, or perhaps you do not think so.”

“My wardrobe has not yet arrived from London, your grace. I have only two gowns—”

“I have been informed exactly what went on at Tremont last night,” interrupted the duchess frostily, “and I confess to complete astonishment that my nephew should still look upon you with favor. You made a great deal of mischief at the assembly, and you did it quite willfully, from all accounts.”

“I caused nothing.”

“Silence! My information is reliable, missy, and I know at whose feet the blame may be laid! You have caused nothing but trouble ever since your arrival, and I wish with all my heart that even at this late stage my nephew would see you for what you really are, a scheming, ill-bred adventuress of mediocre taste and little talent for anything except scandal. But I doubt if he will, not if his latest conduct is anything to judge upon, and so tonight I must suffer the supreme humiliation of seeing his ring placed upon your finger, and I must endure this insult beneath my own roof! If he was not my dear sister’s only child, I would have disowned him for what he has done to his family’s pride and dignity.”

At that moment Felix’s bay thoroughbred was brought from the stableyard, and almost immediately he came out of the house. He wore a light blue coat and off-white breeches, and his top hat was tipped back slightly on his dark curls.

He gave his sister a cool nod and bent to kiss his mother on the cheek before quickly mounting the horse and preparing to accompany the barouche to the party, it being the custom for the ladies to drive and the gentlemen to ride to these occasions. As soon as he was mounted, he looked down at Bryony, but she did not turn toward him for even a moment; she would not forgive him for all that he had said and done, but especially not for the forceful advances he had made the night before.

As the barouche proceeded smartly down through the park, Felix only once maneuvered his horse alongside as if he would speak to Bryony, but she gave him a look so cold and discouraging that he hesitated and then allowed his horse to fall a little way behind the carriage again.

Delphine said not a word throughout the short journey to the lakeside. Bryony felt very uncomfortable, for she had tried earlier to set matters right, but to no avail; it seemed that the second refusal of the offer the night before had caused deep offense, and nothing Bryony said or did now would soften the atmosphere which had come between them.

That short journey was the worst Bryony had yet endured since arriving in England, worse even than the evening before when she had traveled to and from Tremont alone with Sebastian, and she was almost relieved when the site chosen for Petra’s party was in view.

The tide was high in the lake and the water already covered with a variety of little pleasure boats, ribboned posies fixed to their prows and garlands draped around their sides. More boats waited in rows close to the shore, ready to be pulled in whenever the guests desired to use them, while a little way out on the water a large barge had been anchored. On it an orchestra was playing, the pretty music drifting clearly to the shore, where people strolled among the trees or displayed themselves gracefully upon the many cushions and rugs set out upon the grass.

Swathes of pink satin had been draped through the branches, and the breeze fluttered through it, rippling the costly material and making it flap like flags. There were flowers everywhere, placed in buckets which had been sunk into the ground, so it seemed as if this was some enchanted place where roses, carnations, delphiniums, dahlias, lilies, lupins, and chrysanthemums all bloomed together, springing from the ground in full flower.