Rendezvous (11 page)

“Do you really believe you can do that?”

“Yes,” said Harry. “I believe I can. And I will.” He
picked up his unfinished brandy and swallowed what was left in the glass. Then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the door.

So much for rash statements about not getting into duels over women, Harry thought ruefully. He knew he had just come very close to issuing a challenge a moment ago. If Lovejoy did not take a hint, it might very well come to something irritatingly melodramatic such as pistols at dawn.

Harry shook his head. He had only been engaged for two days and already Augusta was having an extremely unsettling effect on his quiet, orderly existence. It certainly made one wonder what life was going to be like after he married the woman.

Augusta sat curled in the blue armchair near the library window and frowned down at the novel in her lap. She had been attempting to read the page in front of her for at least five minutes. But every time she got halfway through the first paragraph she lost her concentration and had to start over again.

It was impossible to think about any subject other than Harry lately. She could not believe the swift, headlong rush of events that had led her to the situation in which she found herself.

Above all, she could not understand her own reaction to those events. From the moments she had found herself on the floor of Harry’s library, swept away by her first taste of passion, she had been going about in a dazed state of mind.

Every time she closed her eyes, she relived the excitement of Harry’s kiss. The heat of his mouth still seared her. The memory of his shockingly intimate touch still had the power to make her weak.

And Harry was still insisting on marriage
.

When the door opened she looked up with relief.

“There you are, Augusta. I have been looking for you.”
Claudia smiled as she came into the room. “What are you reading? Another novel, I suppose?”

“
The Antiquary
.” Augusta closed the book. “Very entertaining, with lots of adventure and a lost heir and plenty of narrow escapes.”

“Oh, yes. The new Waverley novel. I should have known. Still trying to work out the identity of the author?”

“It must be Walter Scott. I am absolutely convinced of it.”

“And so are any number of other people, apparently. I vow the fact that the author is keeping his identity a secret is probably contributing greatly to the sale of his books.”

“I do not think so. They are vastly enjoyable stories. They sell for the same reason Byron’s epic poems sell. They are fun to read. One cannot resist turning the pages to see what happens next.”

Claudia gave her a gently reproving look. “Do you not think that, as you are now an engaged woman, you ought to be reading something a bit more elevating in nature? Perhaps one of Mother’s books would be more suited to a lady who is about to become the wife of a serious-minded, well-educated man. You will not want to embarrass the earl with uninformed conversation.”

“If you ask me, Graystone could do with a bit of uninformed conversation,” Augusta muttered. “The man is too straitlaced by half. Do you know he actually told me I should not dance the waltz with Lovejoy?”

“Did he really?” Claudia sat down across from her cousin and poured herself a cup of tea from the pot on the end table.

“Practically ordered me not to do so.”

Claudia considered that. “Perhaps that is not such bad advice. Lovejoy is very dashing, I’ll grant you that much, but one cannot help but believe he might not be above taking advantage of a lady who allowed him too many liberties.”

Augusta raised her eyes toward heaven and prayed for
patience. “Lovejoy is perfectly manageable and very much a gentleman.” She bit her lip. “Claudia, would you mind very much if I asked you a delicate question? I would like a little advice concerning the proprieties and, frankly, I cannot think of anyone who could give me more accurate information on that sort of thing than you.”

Claudia straightened her already rigid spine and looked gravely attentive. “I shall try to guide you as best I can, Augusta. What is troubling you?”

Augusta abruptly wished she had not started this. But it was too late now. She plunged into the matter that had disturbed her sleep so badly after last night’s ball. “Do you think ’tis true that a gentleman has the right to feel certain promises are made or implied by a lady simply because she allows him to kiss her?”

Claudia frowned, considering the matter closely. “Obviously a lady should not allow anyone except her fiancé or her husband to take such liberties. Mother made that very clear in her
Instructions on Behavior and Deportment for Young Ladies
.”

“Yes, I know,” Augusta said, growing impatient. “But let us be realistic about this. It happens. People do steal the occasional kiss out in the garden. We all know that. And as long as they are discreet about it nobody feels they have to announce an engagement afterward.”

“We are speaking hypothetically, I assume?” Claudia said with a sudden, sharp glance.

“Absolutely.” Augusta waved a hand airily. “The issue arose during a discussion with some, uh, friends of mine at Pompeia’s and we are all trying to form a proper conclusion as to what is expected of the woman in such a situation.”

“It would no doubt be best if you refrained from being drawn into that sort of discussion, Augusta.”

Augusta ground her teeth. “No doubt. But do you have an answer to the question?”

“Well, I suppose one could say that allowing a man to kiss one is an example of deplorable behavior but not
precisely beyond the pale, if you see what I mean. One could wish the lady had a nicer notion of propriety, but one would not condemn her completely for a stolen kiss. At least, I would not do so.”

“Yes, that is exactly my feeling on the matter,” Augusta said eagerly. “And certainly the gentleman involved has no right to think the lady in question had promised to marry him merely because he was such a cad as to steal a kiss.”

“Well …”

“Lord knows, I have wandered out into the garden during a ball and seen any number of gentlemen and ladies embracing. And they did not all rush back into the ballroom and announce their engagements.”

Claudia nodded slowly. “No, I do not think it would be fair of a gentleman to think the lady had made a firm commitment merely on account of a kiss being exchanged.”

Augusta smiled, pleased and relieved. “Not fair in the least. Just what I concluded, Claudia. I am so glad you agree with me.”

“Of course,” Claudia continued thoughtfully, “if there were a bit more than a kiss involved, that would put an entirely different light on the matter.”

Augusta felt suddenly sick. “It would?”

“Yes, definitely.” Claudia took a sip of tea as she pondered the nuances of the hypothetical situation. “Most definitely. If the lady in question responded to such behavior on the part of the gentleman with any degree of warmth at all—that is, if she allowed further intimacies, for example, or encouraged him in any way …”

“Yes?” Augusta prompted, dreading the direction in which this was going.

“Then I think that it would be quite fair of the gentleman in question to assume the lady did indeed return his affections. He would have every reason to believe she was plighting her troth by such actions.”

“I see.” Augusta stared glumly down at the novel in her lap. Her mind was suddenly filled with visions of herself
lying in disgraceful abandon in Graystone’s arms on the floor of his library. She could feel the heat in her own cheeks and could only pray her cousin would not notice and remark upon it. “What if the gentleman had been a bit too warm in his advances?” she finally ventured cautiously. “What if he had more or less coaxed her into allowing intimacies she had not initially even considered allowing?”

“A lady is responsible for her own reputation,” Claudia said with a lofty certainty that reminded Augusta a great deal of Aunt Prudence. “She must always exercise great care to behave with such perfect propriety that unfortunate situations do not arise in the first place.”

Augusta wrinkled her nose and said nothing.

“And, of course,” Claudia continued gravely, “if the gentleman in question happened to be a man of excellent breeding and possessed of an unimpeachable reputation for honor and propriety, that would make the case even more clear.”

“It would?”

“Oh, yes. One could certainly see why he would have been led to believe certain promises had been made. And a gentleman of such dignity and refined sensibilities would naturally expect the lady’s implied promises to be kept. Her own honor would demand it.”

“That is one of the things I have always admired about you, Claudia. You are four full years younger than I, but you have such clear-sighted notions of what is proper.” Augusta opened her novel and gave her cousin a tight smile. “Tell me, do you sometimes find that a life filled with such perfect propriety tends to be a trifle dull?”

Claudia smiled warmly. “Life has not been the least bit dull since you came to live with us, Augusta. Something of interest seems to be always occurring in your vicinity. Now, I have a question to put to you.”

“What is that?”

“I would like your opinion of Peter Sheldrake.”

Augusta looked at her in surprise. “But you know my
opinion of him. I arranged to have him introduced to you. I like him very much. Reminds me a bit of my brother Richard.”

“That is one of the things that worries me,” Claudia admitted. “He does have a certain reckless, devil-may-care air about him. And he has become increasingly attentive lately. I am not quite certain I ought to encourage him.”

“There is nothing wrong with Sheldrake. He is heir to a viscountcy and a nice fortune. Even better, he has a sense of humor, which is more than I can say of his friend Graystone.”

“I
don’t believe I mentioned the fact that I had the privilege of meeting your brother a few months before he died, Miss Ballinger.” Lovejoy smiled from the other side of the card table as he dealt another hand.

“Richard? You knew my brother?” Augusta, who had been telling herself that it was time to leave the card room and rejoin the crowd in Lady Leebrook’s elegant ballroom, looked up, stunned. All thought of cards and strategy went out of her head in an instant.

Her stomach clenched as she waited to see what Lovejoy would say next. As always, when her brother’s name was mentioned, she was immediately on the defensive, ready to do battle should anyone happen to question Richard’s honor.

She was the only Ballinger left who could fight for Richard’s name and memory and whenever the subject arose, she gave her all to the task.

She had been playing cards with Lovejoy for half an hour now, not because she was a particularly enthusiastic player
but because she had rather hoped Graystone might wander into the ballroom and come in search of her. She knew he would be irritated, perhaps even mildly shocked by the somewhat dubious propriety of a lady engaging in a card game with a gentleman in such a formal setting.

It was not exactly improper. There were, after all, several other card games in progress in the same room. A few of the ladies involved had been known to lose sums equal to those their husbands occasionally lost in the clubs. But the high-sticklers in the
ton
, of which Graystone was surely one, did not approve of such goings-on. And Augusta was fairly certain that when he found her playing with Lovejoy, of all people, the earl would be genuinely annoyed.

It was a small vengeance for his high-handed treatment of her in the garden the other evening when he had insisted her honor demanded she remain engaged, but it was all she was likely to get. She had the arguments in her own defense already thoroughly prepared. Indeed, she looked forward to delivering them with relish.

When Graystone took her to task for playing cards with Lovejoy, Augusta planned to point out that he could hardly complain, as he had only forbidden her to dance the waltz with the baron. There had been no stipulations regarding cards. Graystone was a man who prided himself on his logic. He could just choke on it this time.

And if he found the offense of card playing simply too grave to tolerate, he could release her from her
implied
promises and allow her to cry off the engagement.

But Graystone had apparently elected not to attend the Leebrooks’ elegant affair tonight and the entire attempt to challenge him had been wasted. Augusta had tired of the card game, even though she was winning. Lovejoy was pleasant enough company, but all she could think about was the fact that Graystone was absent.

The notion of ending the game and returning to the ballroom came to a crashing halt, however, at the mention of Richard’s name.

“I did not know your brother well, you understand,” Lovejoy said easily as he casually dealt the cards. “But he seemed quite likable. I believe I met him at a race meeting. He won a considerable sum on a horse I had been certain would lose.”

Augusta smiled sadly. “Richard was very fond of attending sporting events of all types.” She picked up her cards and glanced at them with unseeing eyes. She could not concentrate on what she held. Her mind was totally riveted on Richard.
He had been innocent
.