B006DTZ3FY EBOK (14 page)

“M
ama! You cannot expect me to deliberately steal the affections of a man whom Hannah loves! She is my friend.
”

Lady Ballymere halted again, rounding on
Cynthia
with an outraged gasp.
“I
ndeed? And what am I to you, pray?
”

Cynthia
shrank back against the pillows as her mother advanced toward the bed, her eyes narrowed.
“D
o you place your friend higher than your parents? Higher, indeed, than your entire family?
”

Cynthia
felt a little dizzy. This was exactly what she had feared. She had pushed too hard, and had brought down her mother
’
s wrath upon her head.
“N
o, Mama. Of
—
of course not.
”

“Y
ou have a
duty
,
Cynthia
. You are not free to follow your inclinations in this matter. Your father and I have tried very hard to defer to your wishes, as far as we could. You said you wanted a kind husband; very well, we have found one for you. Do you think that men of substance grow on every tree? Has it been
easy
to locate a suitable partner for you? You know it has not. Unless you wish to look among the merchant class,
Cynthia
—
something that would grieve us very much
—
you will not find such another as John Ellsworth. Wealthy gentlemen are exceedingly hard to find, and wealthy
young
gentlemen are even rarer. Once Mr. Ellsworth reaches town he will be surrounded by females competing for his notice. Here in this secluded spot we have the perfect opportunity to attract, and retain, his undivided attention. For heaven
’
s sake,
Cynthia
! Do not squander this chance.
”

Cynthia
hid her shaking hands beneath the coverlet. She loathed her own cowardice, but she could not seem to help it. S
he feared anger—all sorts of anger—
in herself as well as in others. Her mother
’
s anger was hardest of all to bear. Still, for Hannah
’
s sake, she must make one more push.

She swallowed hard.
“W
hat of Hannah?
”
she asked. She did not sound defiant. She sounded miserable.
“A
m I to ignore her feelings entirely?
”

Lady Ballymere sat on the bed, studying her daughter
’
s face with a keen scrutiny that sent alarm
bell
s ringing all through
Cynthia
.
“I
think,
”
she said slowly,
“
that if you wish to do Hannah a good turn, you should direct her attention to Derek Whittaker.
”

She could not hide her shock.
“Y
ou
’
re joking.
”

“N
ot at all.
”

“B
ut
—
but that will not do. You hinted at it last night, and Hannah did not care for the idea.
”

Her mother smiled cynically.
“S
he thinks she cannot attract a man of Mr. Whittaker
’
s obvious charms. And in the ordinary course of nature, she could not. But she is, after all, the daughter of a marquess and the granddaughter of a duke. Lady Hannah Chase may marry whomever she chooses.
”

Cynthia
’
s heart was racing like a rabbit
’
s. She forced herself to breathe evenly.
“T
hat may be, but I think she will not choose Mr. Whittaker. She thinks of him as a member of her family.
”

Lady Ballymere gave a dismissive snort.
“N
onsense. He is her uncle
’
s brother-in-law; not a true relation. I call it an excellent match. She is sufficiently above his station to tempt him, despite her lack of beauty. And his personal gifts are such that he could easily turn her affections from Mr. Ellsworth to himself.
”

Of that much, at least,
Cynthia
was sure. Still, she blinked at her mother in frightened amazement.
“B
ut this is beyond anything,
”
she blurted.
“I
t is bad enough to set our caps for poor Mr. Ellsworth! Are we now to try our hand at matchmaking?
”

Lady Ballymere shrugged lightly.
“Y
ou said you wanted to consider Hannah
’
s feelings. Really, my dear, we cannot afford to let Mr. Ellsworth slip through our fingers. The best way to cushion your friend from heartbreak, therefore, is to turn her eyes elsewhere.
”

Cynthia
played nervously with the edge of the coverlet.
“W
hat if
—
what if we left Mr. Ellsworth alone, and turned
our
eyes elsewhere? Since Hannah has already formed a preference. What if ...
”
she glanced fleetingly at her mother
’
s face, then returned her attention to the coverlet.
“W
hat if I set my cap for Mr. Whittaker instead?
”

There. She could not believe she had actually said it. How had she dared? One glance at her mother
’
s angry, incredulous face had told her all she needed to know: she would never be allowed to marry a mere country gentleman. Mama was shaking her head in refusal, just as
Cynthia
had known she would.

“I
knew it,
”
said Lady Ballymere bitterly.
“I
knew Mr. Whittaker was dangerous the instant I laid eyes on him. Tall, dark, and handsome! And not a penny to bless himself with, I daresay.
”

“H
e cannot be
penniless,
Mama. He has an estate near Lord Malcolm
’
s place.
”

“N
ot one more word!
”
Lady Ballymere held up a warning finger. She was quivering with rage.
“H
e is a nobody. Do you hear me? His sister
’
s marriage was held to be an amazing stroke of luck. No fortune, no connections,
nothing
to recommend her. Lord Malcolm could afford to marry beneath him, but you, my darling, cannot. I will hear no more discussion on the subject.
”

Cynthia
was properly cowed. She bit her lip and was silent. Lady Ballymere rose from the bed, shaking out the folds of her voluminous garments.
“Y
our father and I have never beaten you,
Cynthia
,
”
she said, in a tight, clipped voice.
“B
ut if you continue to play the ice maiden with Mr. Ellsworth, I shall be sorely tempted.
Sorely
tempte
d. I want you to encourage him. A
nd I want to see you doing it.
”

She swept to the door and opened it, but turned to level a penetrating stare at her daughter.
“I
expect to see a change in your behavior,
Cynthia
. Do I make myself clear?
”

“P
erfectly, Mama,
”
whispered
Cynthia
, not daring to move.

“G
ood.
”
The door clicked shut behind her.

Cynthia
took a deep breath, exhaling with a shaky sigh. She was miserable, as she always was when Mama was angry with her. But there was another, newer emotion playing beneath the surface of her misery. Something hot and sharp, something that made her jaw clench and her fingers curl into fists.

Why, she was
angry
.

The recognition of it brought her up short. Was it undutiful, to feel anger against one
’
s mother? Was it a sin, to dislike being ordered about?

No matter. She did dislike it. And she was angry.

Chapter
8
             
             
             
             

It was a good thing, Derek mused, that he enjoyed wandering about for its own sake. Another man might have worked himself into quite a temper by now, searching high and low for
Cynthia
and failing to find her. Derek
’
s feathers, however, remained unruffled. The best feature of a ducal mansion, as far as he was concerned, was that the place was vast enough to offer hours of entertainment. One never seemed to come to the end of it, however far one roamed.

Cynthia
had not been in any of the places where one might expect to find her. Had she been seeking him as he was seeking her, she surely would have loitered in the breakfast room, the library, or the morning room. She was not in any of these obvious places.
Ergo
, she was not seeking him.

This was vaguely disappointing, but understandable. Was she deliberately avoiding him? Probably. But Derek did not despair. He was confident of his ability to find her, wherever she might hide. For one
thing, he was highly skilled at... well
... skulking and lurking. For another, he was so drawn to her that he half-believed the best way to find her was to close his eyes and follow his feet. He seemed to carry an internal compass that forever pointed him in her direction. So he rambled unhurriedly this way and that, down the spacious, modern corridors and through the ancient, twisting passages of stone, certain that around some corner or another he would encounter
Cynthia
.

It was simply meant to be.

It was impossible to feel pessimistic this morning. What might
Cynthia
have said, had her mother not interrupted them last night? The possibilities were tantalizing. He could not rest until he got
Cynthia
alone and asked her, point-blank. Whatever obstacles fate, or
Cynthia
, or her family, had placed in the way of their union, he would overcome. He knew he would, because he must. He did not yet know what task lay before him, but whatever it was, he was impatient to begin it.

His wandering feet led him up a servants
’
staircase
—
admittedly an unlikely spot to search, but he could not resist its cunningly hidden doorway
—
and into a long, carpeted hallway. He recognized this place. Malcolm
’
s suite of rooms was here, near the old nursery, which had been recently refitted to house and entertain Malcolm
’
s little daughters. It seemed nearly as unlikely a spot as the servants
’
stairs, but to his surprise he heard
Cynthia
’
s voice floating through the open nursery door. He could not make out the words, but he
would know her voice anywhere.

And he was even more surprised when he heard Sarah Chase reply to it. Sarah said, very clearly,
“S
nowdrops.
”

The nursery door was open. That was invitation enough. He strolled over to it with a keen sense of anticipation. Why
Cynthia
was in the nursery he could
not imagine, but there she was—
bending over a low table where his little niece sat, hard at work. Sarah always took her spectacles off when she was truly hard at work. She claimed that it helped her concentrate, removing everything from her vision except what was directly in front of her. And there lay the spectacles, tidily folded at her left hand.

Neither Sarah nor
Cynthia
had noticed his arrival.
Cynthia
lightly touched the paper Sarah was working on and murmured,
“I’
d know them anywhere.
”
Then, as she usually did, she seemed to sense his eyes upon her. She looked up. Derek felt a pleasurable jolt of electricity when her eyes met his, and the colors in the room immediately brightened. Remarkable.

He broke into a grin; he couldn
’
t help it.
“G
ood morning.
”

Cynthia
straightened and, to his disappointment, visibly withdrew behind her curtain of reserve.
“G
ood morning, Mr. Whittaker.
”

The delight on Sarah
’
s face almost made up for
Cynthia
’
s lack of enthusiasm.
“U
ncle Derek! I didn
’
t expect to see you.
”
She reached for her spectacles as a blind person would, her hand going unerringly to the place where she had laid them.

“W
hat
’
s toward? Let me guess. Watercolors.
”
He walked over to join them in studying the sheet of paper. Since the table contained several tumblers of dirty water, an open paint-box and an array of sable-tipped brushes, his guess did not require a leap of genius.

Sarah settled her spectacles firmly on her nose.
“V
ery good,
”
she said, giving him a cheeky little grin.

“S
auce-box.
”
He rumpled Sarah
’
s hair until she squealed and swatted ineffectually at his hand.
“W
hen will you learn to treat me with respect? I should upset the water on you. Teach you a lesson.
”

“P
ho! You never would,
”
said Sarah confidently. She looked up at
Cynthia
.
“H
is bark is worse than his bite,
”
she explained.

“W
here did you hear that phrase?
”
demanded Derek.

“N
owhere. I read it in a book.
”

“W
ell, that
’
s what comes of educating females.
”
He shook his head in mock disgust.
“I
warn you, don
’
t start mouthing proverbs at me. I won
’
t stand for it.
”

Sarah giggled, then looked self-conscious when she noticed
Cynthia
’
s unsmiling face.
“H
e doesn
’
t mean it, you know,
”
she said anxiously.

Cynthia
, seeming to recall her manners, gave Sarah a strained little smile.
“O
f course not.
”

Derek sensed that
Cynthia
was retreating further, and that if he did not draw her into the conversation she would find an excuse to leave the room. He winked at her, jerking his chin to indicate Sarah.
“S
he
’
s a little tyrant, isn
’
t she? Don
’
t let her rope you into admiring her watercolors.
”

Cynthia
looked startled. Sarah cried indignantly,
“I
haven
’
t
roped
her—
have I, Lady
Cynthia
?
”

“N
o, my dear, you certainly have not.
”
She laid a hand protectively on Sarah
’
s shoulder.
“I
enjoy looking at your work. You are extremely talented.
”

“S
he comes here every morning, Uncle Derek. She likes it here.
”

He rolled his eyes.
“W
hat a rapper! Why would a grown woman
like
hanging about in a nursery?
”

To his secret delight, Sarah and
Cynthia
immediately joined forces and turned on him.

“U
ncle Derek, she is a friend of mine
—”

“I
have always enjoyed the company of children
—”

“—
and I won
’
t let you drive her away.
”

“—
and Sarah is a particularly delightful child.
”

He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
“V
ery well. You needn
’
t shout.
”

“W
e weren
’
t shouting,
”
said Sarah, with dignity.
“W
e were just telling you.
”

Cynthia
had turned slightly pink.
“Y
ou are joking again,
”
she observed, giving him a look of reproach.

He smiled at her.
“R
ight. Sorry.
”

“H
e is always joking.
”
Sarah gave a disdainful sniff.
“I
t
’
s best to pay no attention to anything he says.
”

“H
ere, now!
”
exclaimed Derek.
“W
atch what you say, brat. I
’
m frequently in dead earnest. Frequently,
”
he repeated sternly, when Sarah stifled another giggle.
“A
s you
’
ll soon discover, if you don
’
t mend your ways.
”

“I’
m not afraid of you.
”
She lifted one of her wet brushes and pretended to flick water at him. Derek, roaring like an outraged bear, dashed around the corner of the table. A brief chase ensued, followed by a tussle for control of the paintbrush. Throughout, Derek was aware of
Cynthia
watching in amazed silence as he pinned the wriggling, laughing child to the floor, straddled her, and emerged triumphant, waving the brush like a flag.

It seemed that
Cynthia
did not know what to make of all this. Derek scrambled to his feet, tugged his waistcoat back into place, and reached out a hand to Sarah, who was still on the floor. Sarah took it, and he hauled her to feet in one motion.

Cynthia
looked a little anxious.
“A
re you all right?
”
she asked Sarah, moving to smooth the little girl
’
s hair and brush invisible dust from the back of her frock.

Sarah looked surprised.
“O
f course.
”

“I
t
’
s good for her,
”
said Derek firmly, tossing the paintbrush back onto the table.
“K
eeps her in line.
”

Sarah leaned affectionately against
Cynthia
.
“H
e
’
s quite my favorite uncle, you know,
”
she confided.

Cynthia
smiled.
“D
oes your mother not mind, that he plays so roughly with you?
”

“N
o, for he
’
s her favorite brother as well.
”

Derek grinned.
“T
hat
’
s not saying much,
”
he admitted.
“I
daresay you haven
’
t met her other brother
. No? I congratulate you
.
”

Now
Cynthia
definitely looked shocked. Derek hastened to reassure her.
“H
e
’
s our half brother. I
’
ll tell you the story one day. I wouldn
’
t want you to think ill of us
—
Natalie and me
—
for keeping our distance from him. Once you hear the tale, you
’
ll understand.
”

Cynthia
still stood with one hand resting on Sarah
’
s shoulder.
“Y
our family is quite different from mine,
”
she said softly.

“In what way
?
”

She seemed to hesitate before she spoke.
“I
t
’
s difficult to explain, really. I s
uppose I would say you are much
... freer with each other. In various ways.
”
A slight smile disturbed her gravity.
“I
was never allowed to play with my brothers, for one thing. Or, needless to say, my uncles. Not that it would ever have occurred to me to try.
”
She glanced down at Sarah, who was looking up at her with a very serious expression.
Cynthia
almost laughed.
“D
oes that seem tragic to you?
”