The Wedding Trap (14 page)

During the second week, he asked Violet and Jeannette to join them for a few of their sessions so Eliza could practice speaking to ladies and not just gentlemen. Chatting with Violet hadn’t been too taxing, but as for Jeannette—Eliza still quaked to remember. Yet for all her no-nonsense stares and glib-tongued remarks, Jeannette had been surprisingly kind, never once laughing at Eliza’s mistakes, advising her in a patient tone to simply begin again whenever she faltered. During their last lesson, Eliza had actually relaxed enough to forget they were rehearsing and enjoyed several minutes of the conversation.

Tonight’s small party would be her first real test. A chance for her to “dip her toes into the water,” as Kit put it. If only she could figure out which gown to wear.

“The green one,” she told her maid. “No, the rose. No, definitely the green. Yes, the green, and put the other one away before I change my mind yet again.”

Lucy smiled and dipped into a quick curtsey. “Yes, miss. I’ll be ironing in the servants’ quarters if you need me for anything. Oh, and it’s nearly one. You asked me to remind you so you wouldn’t be late for nuncheon with the duchess and her sister.”

“Oh, that’s right. Thank you, Lucy, or I would indeed have let the time get away.”

Eliza marked the page in her book, then rose and crossed to the washstand while her maid hung the rejected gown in the wardrobe. Pouring tepid water into a flowered china basin, Eliza washed her hands and dried them on a soft towel, then turned to consult Lucy about her hair.

“It looks lovely, miss,” Lucy declared. “That Mr. Greenleaf certainly gave you a fine trim and color when he came yesterday. The man’s a tyrant, if you ask me, but he’s a talented tyrant so I suppose we have to abide by his uppity ways.”

“He does seem to enjoy clapping his hands and ordering everyone around,” Eliza agreed.

Her abigail hurried off moments later with Eliza’s green evening gown draped neatly over her arm. Eliza followed, walking in the opposite direction toward the family dining room.

Jeannette paused in her conversation with her twin as Eliza entered the room, the countess’s gaze roving appraisingly over Eliza’s bronze-striped muslin day dress and slippers, a matching ribbon threaded through her hair.

Jeannette’s sea-colored eyes brightened with approval. “Oh, don’t you look dear in that gown. I knew you would the instant I saw the material at the linen-drapers. And the vandyked sleeves, I simply adore them, don’t you? They are the very latest thing, you know,
très de rigueur.
”

“I am extremely pleased with my new wardrobe.”

“As you ought to be, and you are most welcome. Shopping is always a true delight for me, as Darragh can strenuously attest. He was complaining only this morning about the amount of the shoemaker’s bill. When I asked him if he would prefer to see me go around barefoot, he said it wouldn’t bother him a bit. First thing tomorrow I plan to go out and buy another six pairs just to teach him a lesson. A lady has a need for shoes that no male will ever understand. Besides, the wretched beast bought three new pairs of boots for himself and he has the gall to complain about me. Truly, I don’t know why I adore him so, but I do.”

Subject exhausted, Jeannette shared a wide smile with Eliza and Violet. “Shall we eat? Impolite of me to say, but I am utterly famished.”

“Good, then you won’t disappoint François,” Violet declared, gesturing for them all to take their seats at the table. “In honor of our birthday, he has made your favorite tournelles of beef and mushrooms in puffed pastry and my favorite dessert,
gâteau au chocolat.
”

“Speaking of birthday presents,” Jeannette said to her twin, a curiously wicked gleam in her eyes, “I have something interesting for you, sister dear. But I shall save it for later, after we eat.” She angled a look at Eliza. “Now, tell me, which of your beautiful gowns shall you be wearing at this evening’s party?”

The meal passed in convivial harmony, the three of them doing admirable justice to François’s delectable fare. After polishing off the last bites of rich, tender chocolate cake, Violet ordered tea to be delivered to the family drawing room.

The beverage served and sipped, Jeannette went to collect her reticule before returning once again to take her seat on the sofa. With a secretive little smile playing around her lips, she pulled open her silk bag and withdrew a small rectangular object wrapped in pretty flowered paper and tied with a bright pink ribbon.

“I have another present for later,” Jeannette explained, “but I thought I ought to give this one to you now while it was just us girls.”

Eliza watched as Violet reached out to accept the gift. “Well, thank you, I have a pair of presents for you too. Mayhap I should go—”

Jeannette waved a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’ll enjoy them more this evening. Do go on and open it.”

Bowing her head to the task, Violet slipped the ribbon free then pushed aside the paper to reveal a slim, well-worn volume bound in plain green leather. “Oh! A book. How lovely. Is it poetry?”

Jeannette smirked, leaning forward slightly with unconcealed enthusiasm. “Of a sort.”

Violet opened the cover to reveal the first page. “
Albanino’s Postures.
What a curious title,” she mused aloud.

She flipped through a few more pages before she abruptly stopped, blue-green eyes bulging in their sockets.

“Oh!” Violet exclaimed, snapping the volume closed with a loud
whap,
cheeks flaming red as a field of scarlet poppies.

Enjoying her twin’s astonished reaction, Jeannette let out a merry chortle.

“Where on earth did you get such a thing?” Violet said, lowering her voice to a sotto voce hiss.

Eliza darted a look between the two women, wondering what the book contained. Obviously whatever it was, the subject matter was scandalous enough to have shocked Violet to her toes.

“I found the decadent little gem in a trunk of Darragh’s belongings back home in Ireland,” Jeannette said. “Several months ago, I was having the castle attics cleaned when I happened upon it quite by accident. When I showed the book to Darragh, he told me a friend of his had given it to him as a gift during one of his trips to Italy. Seems he’d packed it away after his return and completely forgotten about it.” She touched her hands to her knees. “Well, always eager for a bit of adventure, I persuaded him to test out a few of the more interesting illustrations. There’s one about halfway through that is well worth the effort despite how improbable it looks.” Arching her delicate eyebrows, she concluded her little speech with a giggle.

Violet’s mouth dropped open. “You are beyond anything, do you know that?” She paused, casting a plainly apologetic glance toward Eliza. “And we really ought not to be discussing such things.”

“Why not? Oh, you mean you’re worried about Eliza’s delicate sensibilities? Well, if she is serious about getting married, then a little education on the subject might not go awry.”

“I am
not
showing her this book!”

“I never suggested you do, but I hardly think being privy to our conversation is going to ruin her.” Jeannette focused her gaze on Eliza. “What do you think, Eliza? Do you want to scurry out of the room like a demure little maiden or stay and listen?”

Her imagination run amok, Eliza sat mute and unmoving, waiting for the next act of this very interesting drama to unfold. Just what, she was dying to know, was inside that book?

“See,” Jeannette declared, “she doesn’t want to leave.”

“Here, take it back.” Violet shoved the book toward her sister. “I know you meant well, but I couldn’t possibly keep it.”

“Oh, but it’s yours. I have the original still at home. This is a copy I asked a rather discreet bookseller here in London to ferret out for me. I thought it would make a delightful gift that you
and
Adrian could both enjoy.”

Violet flushed again. “Adrian and I do not need books. We do quite well in that area all on our own.”

Jeannette grinned, refusing to accept the volume Violet was trying to push at her. “I am sure you do very well, but a little variety never hurt anyone. Just thought you’d have some fun.”

“We have fun.
Plenty
of fun, so thank you but no thank you.” She tossed the book into Jeannette’s lap. “Give it to your friend Christabel. Now, there’s someone who looks like she could use a bit of assistance in the bedroom.”

Jeannette clutched the small book in her hands and burst into renewed laughter. “Oh, Violet, I must say you’ve developed an edge. It’s what must come of having spent all those months pretending to be me. But here, I insist you have the book. Try at least one of the sixteen. If you don’t like it, I promise I’ll take the volume back and say nothing of it again.”

Violet shook her head and sprang to her feet. “Adrian and I are very happy as we are, and our private life is…well, private. Now, you had best be getting back to your own townhouse so you can get ready for tonight’s dinner. I shall see you then.”

Jeannette stood and opened her mouth as if to argue, then released a sigh. “Very well, but let me know if you change your mind—about the book, I mean.”

“I shan’t but thank you again for the…the thought.” Violet crossed the room and went out into the hallway.

Eliza stood and started to follow her friend from the room. At the doorway, she turned in time to see Jeannette hurry across to a small ladies escritoire on the far side of the room, a desk Violet used on the occasional evening. Sliding open the top drawer, Jeannette popped the book inside, then turned with a conspiratorial grin.

“Shh,”
Jeannette said, setting a finger across her lips. “Let her find it. I know she’ll be glad.” Crossing, she took Eliza’s arm. “Best hurry before she wonders what is keeping us.”

Eliza cast one last curious glance back at the escritoire, then accompanied Jeannette from the room.

Convivial laughter and smiles filled the music room as the assembled guests watched Jeannette and Violet open their birthday gifts. Side by side on the damask-covered sofa, they made a perfect tableau, Eliza thought, their lovely blond heads bent to their work as each unwrapped present after present.

By far the more impatient of the pair, Jeannette ripped into her gifts with unencumbered relish, tossing paper and ribbon aside to land where it willed. Violet took a milder approach, devoting more time to the process, yet collecting a small mountain of wrappings at her feet just the same.

From her place on the sofa opposite, Eliza sipped a slender glass of after-dinner ratafia and enjoyed the twins’ patent expressions of delight. Jeannette squealed like a schoolgirl when she opened Darragh’s gift, leaping to her feet and into her husband’s arms for an enthusiastic hug and kiss before turning around so he could fasten around her throat the glittering ruby necklace he had given her. Violet, for her part, was every inch as thrilled with the gift she received from Adrian, a very rare and delicate volume of ancient history that nearly brought tears to Violet’s eyes when she opened it.

The unique book was certainly a far cry from the one Jeannette had presented to Violet only hours past. Eliza considered the racy bit of literature that was even now residing in the upstairs escritoire, wondering if it was truly as shocking as Violet’s reaction suggested. So what would Violet do when she found the book? Send it straight back to Jeanette? Or decide to keep it, after all, and maybe even give it a try?

Eliza felt her cheeks warm and hoped anyone looking at her would assume her blush had been caused by the spirits she drank.

As soon as all the presents were opened, the servants slipping discreetly in and out to carry away the discarded wrappings, Darragh got to his feet.

“Shall we have some music, then?” he declared. “What do you say, Moira. Will you give us a tune?” He glanced at his sister, who returned his grin with a quiet smile of her own. “She plays a grand melody on the harp. Be a good lass and pleasure us with your skills.”

“Yes, Moira, do,” encouraged her brothers Finn and Michael.

At barely sixteen, Moira was not yet
out.
During their nuncheon, Jeannette had told Eliza and Violet how excited Moira was to be included in tonight’s celebration, since girls her age were not usually invited to adult parties. But considering this was a private gathering with only family and a few select friends in attendance, Jeannette and Darragh had agreed it would be acceptable.

On the other hand, his youngest sister, thirteen-year-old Siobhan, had been mightily put out when she discovered she would have to remain at home. But no amount of tears and pleading on her part had convinced them to change their minds, despite the pangs of guilt the girl had roused in them both.

Pretty and personable, auburn-haired Moira gave her brothers another becoming smile, then got to her feet and crossed the room.

The girl has more nerve than I do,
Eliza thought, glad she wouldn’t be called upon to perform. Despite the enjoyment she derived from playing piano, her efforts were strictly for her own amusement. Years ago, she had once tried to play for a group of her aunt’s friends and had ended up shaming herself and her aunt when she froze at the keys, unable to hit more than a few stumbling notes. As she recalled, the notes she had managed to play had sounded worse than an organ-grinder’s monkey. She’d left the room in tears. From that day forward, she had vowed never to make such a public mockery of herself again.

As Moira settled gracefully onto the harp stool, Eliza sensed Kit walk up to stand behind her, leaving only the sofa back between them.

He touched a hand to her arm. “Would you care for another glass of wine?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, I believe I have had more than I ought, as it is.”

He bent down so his mouth was close to her ear. “You are doing very well tonight, by the way. I wanted to commend you.”

A delicious quiver trickled down her spine; his voice was as darkly intoxicating as the fragrance of his brandy-scented breath.

She turned her head to meet his gaze, ethereal notes of harp music floating like shimmering diamonds upon the air. “I have been trying to remember all my lessons.”