The Perfect Waltz (14 page)

He carried her to a bench and set her carefully down. “Are you all right, Cassie? How did it happen? Are you cold? Here, take this.” He shrugged off his own coat and wrapped her in it.

Cassie endured it with a closed look on her face. She was embarrassed, Hope saw, as well as angry. Angry with herself, perhaps, Hope speculated, for attracting so much of her brother’s attention.

“I’m all right,” Cassie muttered ungraciously as he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wipe her face. She snatched it from his hand and wiped her own face. She looked a sight with her hair hanging in sodden rat’s tails and her blue muslin dress ruined by weeds and mud. It clung to her body like a second skin.

“The ducks had a wonderful feed at any rate,” Grace said, breaking the awkward moment.

“I’m sure they have, greedy things,” said Hope in a hearty voice. “Luckily they were probably too full to eat Cassie.” She grinned at Cassie, and the girl’s sullen mouth softened.

That’s when Hope noticed it. Under the sopping blue fabric, what looked like the sheath of a knife was strapped to Cassie’s thigh.

Hope glanced at Faith to see if she had noticed. She had. Her twin’s eyes were troubled. Grace noticed, too. “Is that a kni—” she began, but Faith stopped her in time with a sisterly nip on the arm.

“We’d better get this girl home and into a bath,” said Mr. Reyne, apparently unaware of the undercurrents. “Miss Hope, Miss Faith, Miss Grace, I bid you good-bye. Cassie, Dorie, let us go. The carriage is waiting.”

Hope walked with them to the carriage, while Faith and Grace fed the last of the bread to the ducks. The girls hurried ahead, as if anxious that he should have nothing to do with them.

He hadn’t looked at Hope since that almost-kiss. Why not? Cassie was perfectly all right, just wet and muddy and cross.

The girls scrambled into the carriage. Hope and Mr. Reyne were some yards away from it when Hope said, “Mr. Reyne?” She was surprised to hear her voice was steady. “I did enjoy our walk. And our talk.”
And I wish you’d kissed me.
The words hung unspoken in the air between them.

He paused, then turned back. Faint ruddy color darkened his cheekbones. He began stiffly, “I must apologize, Miss Merridew. I had no right—” He broke off, cleared his throat, and said in a hard voice, “It was a mistake. I have come to London with the specific intention of courting Lady Elinore Whitelaw.”

It was like a slap in the face.

He continued, “I am sorry if I misled—”

Mortified, Hope cut him off, saying in a falsely bright tone, “Apologize, Mr. Reyne? Whatever for? Nothing happened, after all. A stroll in a very public park with my sisters and yours close by. I am sure nobody could object to that.”

She wished the earth could swallow her up. She wished she had never got up this morning, never come to the park. It was clear from his demeanor that he’d thought her forward, that she had been the one making the moves. He probably wouldn’t have thought to kiss her except that she had encouraged him.

It occurred to her that her and her sister’s status as beauties made them less fit to cope with normal life than most females. Hope had never been rejected by a young man before. It didn’t matter that she had never offered herself, even the smallest part of herself, to a man before. She’d offered herself to this man—a kiss in a public park, no less—and he’d baldly rejected her. In favor of a notoriously eccentric and plain older woman.

She could feel her cheeks warming again and turned away, saying, “I think it is going to rain soon. We should hurry home. Good-bye, Mr. Reyne.” She shook his hand briskly, trying not to recall that the same hand had cupped her cheek so tenderly only moments before. She waved to the girls. “Good-bye, Cassie, Dorie. I hope we shall meet again one day.”

“Oh, we will,” Cassie responded. “Miss Faith and Grace have invited us to go with you to Green Park tomorrow morning.”

Hope blinked.

“If Mr. Reyne permits it, of course, Cassie,” Faith reminded her gently as she came up behind Hope.

Cassie said nothing, just glowered at her brother.

Hope clenched her fingers, willing him to refuse the treat. He could take his sisters to Green Park himself. She didn’t want to be thrown together with the Reyne family any more than could be helped. She watched him from the corner of her eye.

He hesitated, glanced at Dorie, whose eyes were fixed on his in silent entreaty, and nodded. “Of course. What time would you like the girls to be ready, Miss Merridew?”

Hope said nothing. Faith made the arrangements to collect the girls in the morning, and then they all went their separate ways.

MOLIERE

 
 
 
 
 
THEY WALKED HOME IN SILENCE, RATHER MORE QUIETLY THAN they had come.

“Are you all right, Hope? You look a little upset.” Faith took her sister’s arm as they walked back to Great Uncle Oswald’s house in Providence Court. Grace walked ahead, talking to James.

“It’s nothing, a touch of the headache, that’s all.” Hope lied, adding in what she hoped was a light tone, “That man is so difficult to talk to. It’s like getting blood out of a stone.”

Faith gave her a doubtful look. “It didn’t look like you were having difficulty communicating. And you don’t look as if you have the headache—you look upset.”

It was almost impossible to deceive her twin, so Hope changed the subject. “Lady Thorn is arranging a masquerade ball, had you heard? The count is to be guest of honor. She’s calling it a Hungarian gypsy ball, and we are to dress in costume!”

“I had heard,” said Faith quietly. “I think it’s a delightful notion.”

They walked on a few steps. Her sister was blushing slightly. Hope said quietly, “You seem very interested in the count, twin.”

“Count Rimavska is quite the finest musician I have ever heard.” Faith’s blush intensified. Hope sighed. She hoped he wasn’t Faith’s dream man, but with Faith blushing like this over nothing, she very much feared he was.

Faith darted her a look. “You find him flamboyant and showy, I know.”

Hope said nothing. She couldn’t deny it.

“His clothing and presentation is part of his expression as an artiste,” explained Faith gently.

Hope nodded. “If you like him, Faith, then I am sure he is charming.”

Her twin smiled shyly but did not say any more. Hope pondered the problem. She could not at all see why her sister would be so enraptured by the pretty count—apart from his music—but then, Faith didn’t understand why she could be attracted to Mr. Reyne, either.

“Faith, do you have tender feelings for him?”

Faith blushed even harder, but she shook her head. “It is too early to say.”

“Be careful, twin, will you?” Hope said. “You don’t know him very well. You’re very softhearted, you know. You need to keep your heart well-guarded until the right man comes along. And you must be sure he
is
the right man.”

Faith gave her a wry look. “You don’t know Mr. Reyne very well, and yet, what was it I saw just before, under the willow tree? You let him kiss you.”

Mortified, Hope blustered, “No! I did not kiss anyone!”

“I could see you through the willow leaves, you were swaying toward him, face upturned! I’ve never seen you look so. Oh, Hope, what is it like, to have such strong feelings for a man?”

Hope said sadly, “I wouldn’t know. He is not interested in me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. He told me to my face. He has come to London for the sole purpose of courting Lady Elinore Whitelaw.”

Faith put her arm around Hope. “Then he is not the one,” she said soothingly. “I didn’t think he was.”

Hope sighed. “No.”

They came up to James and Grace, waiting on the steps of Great Uncle Oswald’s house. Grace rapped the knocker. Niblett, Great Uncle Oswald’s ancient butler, opened the door, and knowing his penchant for gossip, neither girl spoke until they were upstairs.

The moment they were alone, Faith continued, “Any man who treats his sisters like that could not be the man for you.”

Hope was puzzled by the vehemence in Faith’s normally gentle voice. “What do you mean? I didn’t notice any ill-treatment of his sisters.”

Faith replied, “Not when we were there, no. But you must have noticed how Cassie changed when he pulled her from the water.”

“She was embarrassed.”

“That wasn’t all. She hated him touching her. It was obvious. And—you saw it, I know—she wears what looks to me like a knife strapped to her leg! What does that say about Mr. Reyne, eh?”

Hope frowned and said slowly. “I did wonder about the knife.”

“And little Dorie is so silent and haunted-looking, poor child. Something must account for it. And do you know, several pieces of that stale old bread never reached the ducks.”

Hope frowned.

Faith nodded. “Yes! I don’t think Grace noticed, but I certainly did; Dorie surreptitiously pocketed stale bread. There’s something wrong there, and those two poor little creatures are under the care of their brother, a man who Mrs. Jenner says has a terrible reputation. I am sorry you are sad, Hope darling, but I am glad to see you out of his clutches.”

She laid her hand on Hope’s shoulder and said earnestly, “If anyone needs to guard her heart it is you, dearest! And if you must worry about someone else, don’t worry about me—worry about those two poor little girls.”

 
Faith’s words returned to haunt Hope that evening as she lay in bed, trying to get to sleep. Sleep had never been her friend. Either it brought nightmares stealing out of the dark to swallow her whole, or it eluded her as she wrestled with thoughts, as was the case tonight.

She tossed and turned, her night rail twisting about her body. The gossip about him was rife. The accusations of murder were, she was fairly certain, salacious inventions. The ton was full of such horrid stories. There was no way two rich people dying suspiciously and a third poor one inheriting a fortune as a result would not be thoroughly investigated.

Nor was he a fortune hunter. It didn’t make sense. He was rich himself. Besides, it was no secret that the Merridew girls would inherit their great uncle’s reputedly enormous fortune. Sebastian Reyne would know she stood to inherit as least as much as Lady Elinore. And without being vulgar or immodest, why choose the older, dowdy heiress over the younger prettier one?

But there was definitely something wrong with his sisters. Hope had to agree. Having been subject to the cruelty of their insane grandfather throughout their youth, the Merridew girls recognized certain symptoms in others.

In the park, he’d seemed protective of the girls. She’d thought it rather sweet of him. But now, she wondered.

People used to think Grandpapa was protective, but he wasn’t. With Grandpapa it was all about power, control, tyranny . . .

That story Mr. Reyne told her about losing his sisters . . . Had the girls tried to run away from him? As Hope and her sisters had escaped from Grandpapa?

That’s what she would do, Hope decided with sleepy resolution. She would discover what she could about those young sisters of his. If those two children were in any danger whatsoever, she would save them. She knew what it was like to grow up in fear. Hope would not stand by and watch it happen to others, not without trying to do something to help.

It would mean seeing a great deal more of Mr. Sebastian Reyne. There was a risk in that; Faith was right. Hope would have to guard her heart. Even knowing he was courting Lady Elinore, even with her doubts about his sisters, she was still, reluctantly, drawn to him.

But then—she yawned, sleepy at last—she had ever been perverse.

 
Sebastian woke at his usual hour. He lay there for a few moments, stretched, and climbed out of bed. The city had not yet begun to hum.

He rose, washed, and dressed by candlelight. He walked softly down the hallway to the girls’ room and opened the door. Since they’d gone missing, he always looked in on them, first thing in the morning, last thing at night. As he had when they were babies.

Dorie had climbed into Cassie’s bed, as usual. Sebastian tiptoed over. The two children lay curled together, like kittens, their little sleeping faces washed free of care. He wished they always looked so. As he turned to leave, a floorboard creaked under his foot, and Cassie started. A blade flashed in the faint dawn light.

“It’s all right, Cassie, it’s only me,” he said softly. “Go back to sleep. You’re safe.”

She grunted, the knife disappeared back under her pillow, and she snuggled back down in the blankets. Dorie hadn’t moved, but he was certain she was awake. She was too still and tense to be anything else. “Sleep well, Dorie. You are safe, too,” he murmured.

Sebastian closed the door carefully behind him. His heart felt like a lump of lead. Would his failure to protect them forever haunt these little innocents?

He thought of going for a ride, but ever since he’d met Miss Merridew on horseback, his early morning rides hadn’t granted him the oblivion they used to. He was always looking over his shoulder, searching for a slender feminine figure galloping
ventre à terre
on a bay horse.

He went to his office, lit the lantern at his desk, and began to work. There were letters to read and to write, accounts to check, instructions to send, shipping news, reports to read: a mountain of work in which to lose himself. Thank God for the demands of business.

Shortly after nine o’clock there was a knock at the front door. Since Sebastian happened to be walking past it at the time, he opened the door. Behind him, a footman skidded to a halt.

A sudden hush fell as his face became visible to the visitors. As if they’d been talking about him. Three pairs of glorious blue eyes regarded him coolly.