The Indian Maiden (13 page)

She looked up at him steadily, to show she was sober as a judge, thinking only that it was rather too bad that she knew so many very tall gentlemen, one could get a stiff neck from so much peering upward as she’d been doing. Then she thought with a sudden sadness, that it was only two tall gentlemen after all, and one of them made her very unhappy. But not the earl, not this long-faced,
lean faced
, white-faced gentleman smiling down so benignly upon her.

He in turn saw a wistful little grin replace the sorrow she’d suddenly shown, which had immediately followed her original good humor. Her smooth amber hair had come loose from its band, and he stroked it back against her warm brow and felt its silkiness cool beneath his hand, even as he saw her lift her chin at that and look, with what must have been yearning, up to him. No, he thought, she was not that disguised by drink. And so he bent his head and kissed her.

How odd, she thought at first, how very strange that the cool and sexless earl was actually kissing her. She felt nothing else but surprise at his actions when his long, cool mouth touched hers, and so didn’t react when he gathered her closer to his thin body. Except that a small, very sober voice told her to stay as she was, to remain quiescent, whatever came, as he pressed his lips against hers. Because if she was lucky enough to feel no fear even now, and if she could remain there long enough, perhaps then she could banish all her fear for all time, so that another time she could stand so for another gentleman.

But then she felt his body grow warm against hers, and noted a new tension there, as well as a new urgency in his grasp. Now, he seemed to become as lost to reason as the others had been when they’d kissed her, and it was as if he quite forgot her, even as he pulled her closer. Then she felt him pressing against her and though she was not afraid, she began to resist. But even as she began to pull back, she felt, incredibly enough, a hot moist tongue wedged against her closed lips.

“No!” she cried in alarm, and before that unwelcome unpleasantness could intrude further because of her utterance, she cried, “No!” again, and the noise of it in the quiet of the night caused
t
he earl to release her quickly.

She gave him one disbelieving stare, picked up her skirts in one hand, and backed away from him until her back hit the long french door through which they’d left the ballroom. Then, turning around at once, she pushed open the door and soon lost herself in the prancing throng within.

The earl composed himself as he waited long enough for the young woman to collect herself and take herself off to her room. He rested his hands on the balcony rail and stared up at the soft night sky, and didn’t seem as discomposed as a recently rejected gentleman perhaps ought to be. In fact, he smiled to himself in the dark. Poor child, he thought magnanimously, he couldn’t blame her. She’d gotten more than she’d bargained for. She’d wanted him, he knew that. She’d come here with him without a murmur and then gazed up at him with a world of invitation in her eyes. And she’d enjoyed the embrace, her passive acceptance showed that. It was only that she lacked the experience to contribute more, and he’d gone on too fast and frightened her away.

It would be better next time, he thought with pleasure. After all, after tonight they would have all the time in the world.

Lord Deal slowly stepped back into the house. There had been no need to rescue her, she’d broken away even as he’d angrily thrust the door wide and drawn breath to demand her immediate release. Fortunately, he realized belatedly, she’d managed better than he would have done; she’d extricated herself before he’d made a scene. There’d been quite enough damage done to her reputation this night already without his adding his mite. For he’d been about to commit mayhem the moment he saw her clasped in Methley’s embrace, and then, he hadn’t even known whether she’d gone there willingly or not.

He drew the door closed quietly. If she wasn’t in her rooms when he returned to his guests, at least he knew she’d not likely follow the earl out into the moonlight again. He’d seen her expression as she’d left Methley. But then he sighed, the enigma bedeviled him. He remembered her face just as clearly when she’d pulled away from him this very morning. It had been fear he’d seen, both times. And he’d not even touched her.

Miss Faith Hamilton, after ordering her maid to bring a basin of cold water and sending her to her own bed immediately thereafter, immersed her heated face in the basin and counted until ten and then didn’t pull up until her lungs demanded a new breath. Then she set about scrubbing her face until the pain of it penetrated her still foggy senses.

No more experiments, she told herself angrily, as she dashed the water over her cheeks. No more tests, she pleaded with her better self as she lay her washcloth down. For if her aim was to feel something other than fear when a gentleman attempted to make love to her, then she’d already been successful.

Then the brash young American Miss Hamilton, more coldly sober than she ever wished to be, and totally alone, as she now knew she would always be, sank down to the side of her bed and wept, tears and water intermingling as they ran down her streaming face. Because all she had learned was that there was yet another emotion she could now experience in a man’s embrace. And that was scarcely an improvement, for it was only disgust.

EIGHT

T
he young man paused in his pacing, wheeled about, and faced the other gentleman who was sitting at his ease, quietly, in a tall-backed brocade chair, his legs crossed and fingers steepled, watching him expressionlessly.

“Of course I understand,” the young gentleman said angrily. “Good grief, Deal, don’t you realize I’ve thought of little else? Or at least,” he said, the back of his neck becoming a little red even as his earnest young face flushed, “I’ve thought a great deal about it. I’ve had other concerns, I’ll admit. But Faith’s behavior is directly tied up in that as well. Blast,” he sighed, dropping down into a nearby chair as though suddenly shot as he accepted the hard truth of his defeat. “Thinking about it is about all I’ve been able to do, too. She pays me no mind at all, but then she never listened to anyone but Mr. Godfrey, and he’s an ocean away right now.”

“And he sent her here to marry?” Lord Deal asked thoughtfully.

“God no,” Will Rossiter answered wearily, “he’s no tyrant, and he wouldn’t order her to her wedding even if he could. And,” he said more forcefully, “I doubt if even he could do that.”

“She’s no intention of wedding anyone?” Lord Deal asked gently, with only a hint of disbelief, and then when there was no immediate reply, he sighed, rose, and went to look out a window.

This Sunday morning it was drizzling. There was little to see but mists floating over his wide rolling lawns outside the library window. The guests were abed, the trace of rain having given the older ones a convenient excuse for missing church, and the younger ones, another good reason for sleeping in. Most of them would be departing in
the afternoon, so their servants were already busily packing and preparing for the remove. But young Mr. Rossiter, like his host, was in the habit of an early morning ride, no matter the climate, and so it had been an easy thing for Lord Deal to wait about the stable on some trifling pretext and then casually request a word with him alone when he’d come back from his morning exercise.

But having a “word” didn’t necessarily mean receiving the ones he wished to hear in return, so Lord Deal thought for a moment more before he said, without turning his head from the dampened landscape, speaking as much to the window pane as to his guest, “You don’t have to answer me. It goes beyond politeness to one’s host to tell tales about one’s friends and employers, I know. Please understand that I don’t ask out of love for a good gossip. But it’s precisely because of gossip that
I
do ask. Speaking of which, if you’ve had your ear to the ground at all, you ought to know that I’m rather an authority on the subject, having been the subject of so much of it for so long.”

Mr. Rossiter left off his hopeless, abject aspect and sat up sharply, only to shift in his seat uncomfortably. His host could see this very easily in the reflection in the glass through which he seemingly was looking out over the long green lawns of Stonecrop Hall. There were certain unfair advantages a chap had over his fellow man after having worked for his country in foreign lands, but Lord Deal didn’t feel in the least guilty about this as he appeared to continue to gaze ahead. Then he permitted himself an audible sigh before he went on to muse aloud, “There would be talk about Miss Hamilton even if she only sat in a
corner
and sewed a fine seam. She’s American, which would be exotic and interesting to us no matter where we encountered her. She’s an heiress, or so it’s said. She’s very lovely as well. And she just happens to be the house guest of a highly visible, socially active duke of the realm, and his family, which just happens to include the acknowledged beauty of the Season, to boot.”

He noted that the young gentleman sat bolt upright at that, and nodding, as though to himself, he then went on, “Of course, she’d occasion comment. And you have as well, Mr. Rossiter. Because, to the tattles’ delight, it appears that you’ve both set your sights on making highly eligible connections, and as such, are fair game for all sorts of speculation, not to mention outright fabrications. Even with all that, Miss Hamilton’s behavior of late gives rise to a great deal more talk, and none of it beneficial to her. Or to you. Believe me, Rossiter,” Lord Deal said as he spun around to see the young man looking at him with the worried expression he’d been carefully watching for in the window so that he’d know precisely when the time was ripe to turn and finally confront his guest, “she, at least, can come to harm through it, yes, even if, as you refused to say, she doesn’t choose to marry here.

“I’d like to prevent that. I’d like to help her. And that’s why I ask personal questions of you, since you’re the only chap here who really knows her circumstances. Perhaps there’s something you might say in passing, something that you’re too close to see for yourself, that might help alleviate matters. Telling me about her grandfather, her family, her aims, and her background would not be betrayal, or just to your own benefit, never think it. She must be made to stop, you agree?”

“Oh aye, I agree.” Will shrugged, but then, as unexpectedly as if he had dropped off an item of clothing, he gazed at his host with a face suddenly neither so young nor so open as it usually was, and with his brown eyes serious and hard as stones, he said, “All true, my lord. But why should you concern yourself so much about it?”

Barnabas Stratton smiled and sat himself opposite the young man again. He liked him much better now, and told him so before he said as honestly as he was able, “Because I make it my business to confound gossips wherever I can. Because I am not so fond of the Earl of Methley that I should wish to see your friend Miss Hamilton have no other choice but to confer her fortune upon him if she is indeed seeking a mate here. Even if she is not, say then, because she interests me. And I like her. Good enough?”

Will Rossiter sat still and considered for a moment. Then he sat back. “Good enough,” he said.

“Now, Franklin Godfrey is a fair man and a good man,” Will then said slowly, “and if Faith dotes on him, she’s every reason to. If he hadn’t taken her from her mother’s care, God knows what sort of life she would have led. Not that the lovely Mrs. Hamilton would have abused her daughter, it’s more likely that she just would have forgotten which room she’d put the brat in, and maybe she’d not have remembered until a few years later. Unless, of course, that room had one of her favorite mirrors in it too.”

Barnabas Stratton grinned and settled back in his chair. “And the father?” he asked.

Will made a face. “Have you any experience with southern gentlemen of the worst sort, my lord?” he asked.

“Ah yes,” Lord Deal nodded. “But please, call me
Barn
aby, as my friends do. But that bad, eh?” he asked.

“Worse,” Will sighed, though he smiled when he shook his head, “because,
Barn
aby, aside from the insincerity, and the weak character, and the poor treatment of his slaves, there’s the women, you know.”

“No,
I
don’t, Mr. Rossiter,” his host said with interest.

“Oh yes,” Will replied, “but then, that’s only another excuse for the unhappy couple’s living apart, and their constant wrangling when they do get together. And, oh, it’s Will,
Barn
aby.”

“Then Will, is it claret, ale, lager, or port for you?” Lord Deal asked, as he rang for refreshments, since it now looked as though it would be a long and interesting rainy Sunday morning.

“The roses, for the red, of course,” Lady Mary said thoughtfully as she gnawed at the end of her pen, “and the white’s simple enough, since that can be roses as well, and there are lilies and stock available and loads of meadowsweet, too, if you don’t mind them, although the gardeners might, since they’re weeds actually, but that’s of no account, because it’s the blue that’s the real problem.”

“It isn’t that important, honestly Mary,” Faith said at once. “There’s not the slightest reason to trouble yourself—”

“But of course it is.” The other girl looked up from the list she was compiling. “Certainly it is,” she repeated at once, with as much surprise as if her guest had just denied the existence of the supreme being, rather than questioning the need for another party. “It’s your birthday, and you’re so far from home, and since it is, why it’s an excellent reason to have a bang-up party. Even Mama says so,” she added triumphantly, as though that there could be no further word of argument after that fact had been clearly stated.

As that shot caused her guest to pause in her denials, Lady Mary was relieved that she didn’t have to go on to add the precise reason why Mama had been so amicable about having a party to salute her troublesome guest’s natal day.

“We’ve got to have some sort of do,” the duchess had announced soon after they’d returned to Marchbanks, “in order to get Deal back here again, and repair any damage that dreadful girl did to our name at his home.
She
might not care that she’s made a spectacle of herself, with her uncouth tales and her hoydenish behavior with all the gentlemen, but as we are sponsoring her, as your father insists we sponsor her,” she amended bitterly, grimacing and sitting up in her bed, staring fixedly at her daughter, “it is of primary importance that we remain unfazed by her attitude. That is not to say that we should signal to the world that we tolerate it, mind, but rather that we make it clear that we have no choice but to harbor her, because of your father. If we have a party for her, we demonstrate that. If she scandalizes herself again, we can continue to distance ourselves from her. But if we hide here, we give credibility to the notion that we are in some way responsible for all her dreadful behavior.”

But Lady Mary liked Faith very well, though she’d never dare to let slip a word of that to Mama. Although she felt the reason for the celebration might not be what she would wish, she reasoned her new friend would never have to know of it. A party or a present could be a joyous thing whatever the spirit it was given in, if that spirit didn’t show through, and she resolved to see to it that it did not. She’d gotten permission to decorate the premises more lavishly than she had for her own ball not a week before, since this one was to be given in the manner of reparations. Fortunately, Lady Mary thought, valuing money so much, Mama had reasoned that a generous expenditure of it would impress the world as much as it did herself.

Of course the guest list would be much the same. All of their houseguests had hung on, London being in the doldrums at this time, and few of them were willing to leave for greener pastures at other country estates so long as the wild American girl was here to enliven things and contribute to chat that would spice dinners at those other tables when they eventually did move on. As any practiced houseguest knew, the gift of a fine, rare, polished bit of gossip was always the best hostess present.

“Deal will come,” her mama had prophesied, “because if he does not, he shows that he is insulted or angry with us for what transpired at his home. Unconventional he may be, but he is not so farouche,
I
think. So, Mary, see you spare no effort to convince him of your amiability when he does appear. Attempt to keep that rude American creature away, she’s done enough. Leave her to her countryman, he must have some experience with savages. Or to Methley, he doesn’t seem to mind, as well he should not. She may be as wild as an Indian if she’s got the amount of money your father says she has coming to her. And that’s more to his purposes than manners or morals now.”

Lady Mary swallowed hard and sighed, remembering her mama’s words, and then because of her training, was able to shake unhappy thoughts away and bend her head to work again.

“Columbines then, I think,” she said emphatically, raising her fair head from contemplation of her list, “and larkspur, or even perhaps, if the gardener is willing to seek them out, bluebells and harebells. You don’t mind common weeds if they’re the right color, do you?”

“Oh Mary,” Faith said, smiling, and looking down into a pair of worried eyes of exactly the same hue as was being discussed. “It’s charming of you to think of decorating your house with the colors of our flag in my honor, whatever sort of blooms you use. And I don’t even think of them as weeds, they’re wildflowers, which means to me that they’re flowers in someone’s garden, if only God’s. I don’t stand much on ceremony, as you well know,” she said ruefully.

A brief silence followed her words. Neither girl had spoken of the events at Lord Deal’s party two days before, and both knew that it must eventually be spoken of.

“Faith,” Lady Mary said, lowering her lashes over her mild cornflower blue eyes, “ah, there’s been a bit of talk about what happened Saturday night. That is to say, some of the stories you told, though amusing and very clever, in fact, were a bit, if not precisely warm, then
...
unconventional. And the way
...
Faith, did you know that here, in order to be popular with the gentlemen, and the ladies as well, it is important not to be
too
popular with the gentlemen?” she blurted.

“Oh,” Faith said slowly, a bit of color rising in her cheeks as she turned aside, “so someone saw something and said something about me and Methley? But that was a misunderstanding,
I
promise you. I’d had a bit too much of the punch and when we walked outside I thought he only wanted to help me clear my head, and I never expected—Oh Mary,” she groaned, turning to the other girl, her eyes becoming dangerously damp as she tried to blink her apparent emotion away, “I promise you I never thought of anything more, no, nor wanted anything more either.
”