B006DTZ3FY EBOK (27 page)

Was Derek guessing her thoughts? She steadfastly regarded his topmost waistcoat button, but felt his eyes on her, filled with compassion.
“H
e must have wanted you very badly,
”
said Derek softly.
“C
ould he not have you for less?
”

“N
o,
”
said
Cynthia
numbly.
“H
e could not. Mama is a skillful negotiator. And, as you say, he wanted me badly.
”
She took a deep breath and leaned against the doorframe, trying not to show the agitation that churned in her whenever she thought of her first Season.
“S
ir James had a well-known weakness for young girls
—
the virginal sort, you know, with pale hair and pale skin and no experience of life. At seventeen, I fit the bill perfectly.
”
She was trying to speak lightly, but could not keep the bitterness from her voice.
“M
ama exploited this weakness of his. She chose her target very well. Sir James was exactly what she wanted, and I was exactly what he wanted.
”
She gave an almost hysterical little gulp of laughter.
“A
nd I have no idea why I am telling you this.
”

“B
ecause I asked,
”
said Derek steadily.
“A
nd because you trust me. Am I right to feel deeply angry on your behalf?
”

Unexpected tears stung her eyes. She shook her head, trying valiantly to smile.
“Y
ou know perfectly well, this sort of thing is commonplace. Traps are set every day for wealthy men, and they generally walk into them willingly enough.
”

“I
asked if I should feel angry on
your
behalf,
Cynthia
. Not his.
”

She crossed her arms in front of her and shivered.
“N
o one has ever asked me that before.
”
Her smile wavered.
“I
have heard people express sympathy for the fish wriggling at the end of the hook, but no one thinks how much worse it is for the bait.
”

“A
nd you were the bait. My poor sweetheart.
”
He took her back in his arms, cradling her against his body. Her arms went around him and she clung, feeling comforted even as she sensed the peril in letting him hold her like this.

She felt a craven impulse to tell him everything, to tell him exactly how degrading it had been
—
appearing publicly in nearly-transparent clothing, the tips of her breasts rouged beneath the sheer silk to ensure their visibility, all to entice Sir James. She wanted to confess how humiliated she had felt, seeing the slack-jawed lust in Filey
’
s face as his eyes followed her everywhere, rarely looking at her face even when he spoke to her. Mama had taken care, at first, not to let Sir James get her alone, and for that
Cynthia
had been stupidly grateful
—
until it became clear that it had all been part of the plan, to withhold what he wanted in order to tease him into offering marriage. The first time Mama had allowed Sir James to spirit
Cynthia
away and paw her was the night at the opera house, when
Cynthia
had met Derek. And within a fortnight, her engagement had been announced and her doom sealed
—
or so she had thought. That had been the worst period of all.

No. She would not tell him. She would not unburden herself at the expense of causing Derek pain. Sir James was dead and buried, and
Cynthia
must look forward, not back. She was safe, forever, from Sir James Filey. She would not let hideous memories poison this moment. It was Derek
’
s arms that encircled her now. And they would not always, she reminded herself. This was a stolen moment. Derek Whittaker was not hers to keep. Not if she fulfilled the bargain she had struck with Mama.

“I
am still the bait,
”
she told him quietly.
“B
ut my mother has promised me that we will try to hook a different sort of fish.
”
She leaned back against the circle of his arms, trying to smile.
“I
t was worth trying to snag John Ellsworth, you know. At least he was young. Young rich men are hard to find.
”

“N
o doubt.
”
He looked grim.

“B
ut the ten thousand we received from Sir James relieved the worst of Papa
’
s obligations, so that enabled us
—
briefly
—
to be more choosy. And it made my parents feel generous toward me, so they stopped pressuring me about marriage altogether. Again, briefly.
”
Those days were ending.
Cynthia
did not want to think about that.

Derek
’
s brows climbed.
“Y
ou received ten thousand from Filey even though you hadn
’
t married him?
”

“Y
es. And, luckily, his death did not obligate Papa to repay it.
”

He emitted a low, thoughtful whistle.
“T
en thousand pounds. I must say, my love, that I think your parents have wrung a sufficient sum from your charms. After landing a fish of that size, you ought to be
—
to continue the analogy
—
let off the hook.
”

She wrinkled her nose at him.
“U
gh.
”

“S
orry.
”
He smiled at her, his features softening as he studied her face. He lifted one finger and traced her cheekbone, as if marveling at it. The tenderness in the gesture tugged anew at
Cynthia
’
s heart.
“I
can
’
t give you up,
”
he whispered.
“D
on
’
t ask it of me.
”

“
I might have to
.
”
A lump had formed in her throat, making it difficult to speak.
“B
ut I haven
’
t thought it all out. Give me time, Derek. Just a little time. If I can find a way
—”
Emotion choked her. She knew perfectly well that, absent a miracle, no way would present itself.

His expression was both grave and tender.
“Y
ou don
’
t believe there is a way.
”

Cynthia
shook her head, not trusting herself to speak.

He pulled her to him with one arm, turning her to face the sky, and held her close.
“D
o you see those stars out there?
”
he murmured, nuzzling her ear. She smiled, shivering at the touch of his mouth, and nodded.
“O
ne of them is my lucky star.
”

Amusement brought her voice back.
“W
hich one?
”

“T
hat, I have never been able to determine. But one of them most certainly is.
”

He sounded so confident.
Cynthia
had to laugh.
“I
t seems
a bit
chancy
to rely upon an unknown star.
”

“I
t has never yet let me down.
”

She turned her face up to his, smiling in spite of her heartache.
“I
have never had a lucky star. Do you think you could share yours with me?
”

“S
tand closer,
”
he suggested,
“
where it can shine on both of us at once.
”

She was already touching him, but she nestled closer somehow, fitting herself snugly against his body.
“L
ike this?
”

“C
loser,
”
he whispered. His face was so near hers, it looked out of focus.

Smiling, she let her eyes drift shut.
“I
t must be shining on me now,
”
she murmured.
“I
can feel it. Like the sun.
”

His lips felt hot against her chilled skin as he trailed them softly across her cheekbone.
“T
rust me, love,
”
he murmured.
“A
lucky star is better than money in the bank.
”

I hope so,
she thought wistfully, praying he was right. Then his lips took hers and she stopped thinking at all.

Chapter
14
             
             
             
             

Lady Ballymere stood, half hidden behind a tall column, and watched her daughter walk composedly down the stairs with Mr. Whittaker. Cold rage seized her.
Cynthia
’
s demeanor was completely unruffled, but Lady Ballymere was no fool. Her sharp eyes took in the slight disarrangement of
Cynthia
’
s hair and the fact that her pearls no longer laid quite so neatly against her collarbone. Mr. Whittaker
’
s cravat was a bit askew, as well. The tell-tale signs might be invisible to the casual observer, but Lady Ballymere was no casual observer.

She had noticed twenty minutes ago that the two of them had gone missing. Heaven only knew how long before that they had actually disappeared. Seeing them together now, and remembering
Cynthia
’
s ridiculous suggestion that she be allowed to set her cap for Mr. Whittaker, Lady Ballymere felt almost sick with anger. She had never before known
Cynthia
’
s head to be turned by a handsome face, but the dreaded day had evidently arrived.

Her hands had clenched into fists so tight that, even through her gloves, her nails were digging grooves into her palms. She made a conscious effort to relax, breathing deeply to ease the tension in her muscles.
Cynthia
was not the only member of the Fitzwilliam family who could hide her emotio
ns beneath a bland exterior. Lady Ballymere
would smile, and behave pleasantly, and bide her time while she thought of a plan. For this budding romance, or whatever it was, must be killed.

She gave no sign that she had noticed anything untoward. She
was
civil to Mr. Whittaker and affectionate with
Cynthia
, and even allowed her daughter to sit across from him again during the return to Oldham Park
—
although it stuck in her craw to permit it. She wanted to move cautiously. There was nothing more certain to go awry than blatant attempts to keep them apart. She even pretended to believe
Cynthia
, the next morning, when
Cynthia
told her that she and Mr. Ellsworth were going to explore Saddleworth Moor on horseback
—
in company with Hannah and Mr. Whittaker.

Lady Ballymere perceived the true
nature of this outing at once
, but forced herself to smile and acquiesce, pretending she was well-pleased with the plan. Sick at heart, she even watched the foursome depart, riding sedately down the drive with
Cynthia
’
s mount beside Mr. Ellsworth
’
s and Hannah bringing up the rear with Mr. Whittaker, just as
Cynthia
had led her to believe it would be. She knew, of course, that the instant they were out of sight of the house, the party would regroup.

She returned to her rooms. There
she paced restlessly, thinking. No matter which way she looked at the problem, the best solution to all their difficulties was
Cynthia
’
s marriage to John Ellsworth. She simply
must
bring it about. He was young and rich and kind and, frankly, rather simple
—
all advantages in a husband. And a swift betrothal effected here would save the expense of yet another London Season, a Season the Fitzwilliams could ill afford.

A plan occurred to her. She halted her pacing, pressing her fingertips to her mouth as she turned it over in her mind. Oh, it was devious
—
actually underhanded, if truth be told. But would it work? If so, the end would clearly justify the means. She was prepared, at this stage of the game, to overlook moral qualms. Decency wouldn
’
t pay the bills. What good was honor when the wolf was at the door?

No, there was no point in being squeamish. There was only one important question, only one she need consider at all. She stood frozen in her tracks, her mind working feverishly on that one, overriding question.

Would it work?
             
             
             
             
             

             
* * *

Cynthia
was wearing that cranberry-colored riding habit again. She looked good enough to eat. The sunlight sparkled in her hair, strands of which had worked themselves loose in the fresh wind and were now flying about her face like glittering ribbons. Her cheeks were rosy. Her face glowed with laughter. Every time he looked at her, Derek felt his spirit soar in a kind of amazed delirium. When she smiled at him, which was frequently, he thought his heart might burst and kill him on the spot. Could a man die of love? If not, and he survived this day, he would never forget it.

By tacit agreement, they soon left Hannah and Mr. Ellsworth in the dust. Hannah was a nervous rider, and too unskilled to leave the bridle path. Ellsworth seemed glad to have an excuse not to pit his horsemanship against Derek
’
s; he accepted, with alacrity, the role of Hannah
’
s companion. In
contrast,
Cynthia
rose instantly to Derek
’
s challenge, her eyes flashing with the delight of competition. She had willingly raced him across the moor
—
and she had
really
raced him, neck or nothing, lying nearly flat against her horse
’
s mane and heedless
of danger. In fact, she had dashed
near won.

He pulled Max up barely a second before
Cynthia
arrived at the rock formation they had designated as the finish line. She pulled her own mount to a stop, laughing and crying out,
“U
nfair!
”
Her mare skidded slightly in the mud and danced beneath her, snorting and tossing her head.
Cynthia
patted the animal
’
s neck and held her together with no fuss and seemingly no effort, still laughing.
“M
ax knows you too well. This poor little mare doesn
’
t trust me yet. If I were riding my Westwind, I would have given you a race. You must come to Ballymere one day and give me a rematch.
”

“G
ladly! But you gave me a race today, all right and tight.
”
He grinned at her in undisguised admiration.
“L
ady
Cynthia
, you are a marvel. I hesitate to admit this, but honesty demands it. You are the first female who has ever raced me this well. Most ladies have too much regard for life and limb
—
and an equal anxiety about their hair.
”

“P
ho! Who cares for that?
”
She tossed her head, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Another few strands fell out of her coiffure and danced ecstatically in the wind.
“I
wouldn
’
t have missed that gallop for the world.
”

“W
here is your hat?
”

She gave an airy wave.
“B
ack there somewhere. With the pins still in it, I hope. Did you expect me to check my horse for such a trifle?
”

“L
ud, no. What
’
s a hat, when all
’
s said and done? A good gallop is much more important.
”

“M
y sentiments exactly.
”

He had never seen her appear so relaxed. They turned their horses and started leisurely back the way they had come, eyes peeled for
Cynthia
’
s hat among the scrubby vegetation that covered the moor. She sat beautifully in the saddle, her posture graceful and natural. The glint of the sun on her platinum hair, bared to the blazing light, was nearly blinding. The tendrils that had escaped their confines streamed like gold spun on the wind. To Derek, it was like riding beside a goddess.

She tilted her face up to the sky, closing her eyes and smiling.
“O
h, it
’
s glorious,
”
she murmured.
“S
pring is nearly here.
”

He lifted an eyebrow at her.
“A
nother few days of this weather, and the roads will be decent again. How soon will your mother whisk you off to London?
”

She lowered her chin and opened her eyes. It seemed his words had brought her back to an unwelcome reality.
“N
ot too soon, I hope.
”

“A
men to that.
”

“I
don
’
t believe she can.
”
A slight smile disturbed her gravity once more.
“I
haven
’
t won Mr. Ellsworth
’
s heart yet. At least, not as far as I know.
”

“W
ell, well, don
’
t despair. Still waters run deep. Perhaps he
’
s carrying a torch for you in secret.
”

She laughed out loud at that, throwing her head back with delight. It warmed Derek
’
s heart to see her laugh so unabashedly. He grinned at her.
“W
hat
’
s so funny?
”
he demanded.
“W
hy shouldn
’
t a chap carry a secret torch for you? I did, for years.
”

“A
nd yet, you know, not everyone does.
”
Her voice quivered with amusement.
“D
ifficult as that may be for you to believe.
”

“D
ashed difficult,
”
he agreed.

She smiled at him in a way that made it hard for him to breathe.
“W
hen Hannah told me
—
oh, dear.
”
She covered her mouth with one hand for a moment, catching herself as she nearly spilled a secret.

“N
ever mind. I already guessed, you know. When Hannah told you what? That she fancies Mr. Ellsworth?
”

Cynthia
nodded, apparently resigned to her breach of confidence.
“Y
es. When she told me that, I thought she had run quite mad
—
since I knew she was acquainted with you.
”

Derek puzzled over that for a moment while
Cynthia
’
s cheeks grew visibly pinker. Then, realizing what she meant, he laughed, shaking his head.
“B
y Jove. That
’
s the best compliment I
’
ve ever received.
”

“T
ake care it doesn
’
t go to your head.
”

T
hey smiled at each other
in perfect accord. Derek felt a besotted urge to blurt out another marriage proposal, but sternly quelled it. Any mention of marriage would send them into another rehashing of all the obstacles in their path, and he was determined that nothing so lowering would be allowed to intrude upon this day. They would have one day
—
or at least one morning
—
of unalloyed happiness together. He thought they
might
need the memory of this blissful ride on the moor to sustain them during whatever battles lay ahead. Dragons, he knew, lurked round the next bend.

“V
iew halloo.
”
He pointed.
“I
s that your hat?
”

“O
h, excellent! It is indeed.
”
She turned her mare so skillfully that the creature seemed to move as an extension of
Cynthia
, scrambling down a steep little incline to where the bright splash of cranberry red lay against the brown and green of the moor. It was caught on a prickly bush, the feather that adorned it fluttering like a trapped bird.

He followed her into the shallow ravine and swung out of the saddle. Max stood quietly while he took
Cynthia
’
s reins. She bit her lip as she looked down at him, her face alight with mischief.
“I
shouldn
’
t permit you to hand me down. I should ask you to simply give me my hat.
”