“I might have believed you, milord, had it not been that the dreadful person was also an immensely wealthy person.”
“I would have bowed to your statement had the person in question been within reason. Marguerite St. Julienne, you must admit, is not within reason. I don’t care how wealthy she is, Nadia, I simply find her looks appalling. Looks matter a great deal; money doesn’t necessarily sway me.”
She looked quickly at him, unable to help her next question. “So it doesn’t matter that Leonie Conyngham is now so poor?”
He seemed startled. Then he laughed. “It wouldn’t have mattered, had I really been all that interested in her, but I wasn’t. Anyway, even if I had been, I would have dropped her the moment the taint of scandal attached to her name. One thing I cannot and will not tolerate is scandal.”
She searched his face, wondering how much she dared believe, but he met her gaze, and there seemed no hint of guilt in his eyes.
He put his hand to her face once more, his thumb gently caressing her cheek. “I’m not interested in Marguerite St. Julienne or Leonie Conyngham, but I
am
interested in you. I confess that being recalled from Althorp did not displease me, as it meant I would see you again.”
“But you thought I was in Streatham Park.”
“I hoped you would find it as dull there as I found it at Althorp,” he replied smoothly. “Can I see you tonight? Alone?”
Her green eyes became warm and dark then. “Yes,” she murmured.
He smiled. “I find you very desirable, Nadia,” he whispered, bending forward to kiss her softly on the lips.
Exultation coursed through her, although she was careful to hide it from him. He was going to be hers after all, he
was!
He drew back then. “The intermission’s almost at an end.” As he spoke, the bell sounded. “I must return to my box now, but I’ll come to the embassy tonight.”
She put her hand quickly on his arm. “I trust that you know where we may go in order to be alone? Properly alone?” Her eyes had never been more seductive. “You were right when you hoped I would find Streatham Park dull. I’ve missed you, milord, and tonight I wish to prove it to you.”
Her glance caressed him briefly for a last time and then she went back into the box. Rupert remained where he was for a moment, a smile playing about his lips. He hadn’t intended to continue his liaison with her; he’d found her of scant interest after seeing Leonie. But now Leonie was touched by scandal, and he abhorred scandal. Nadia wasn’t touched by the scandal, however. She was simply a beautiful but rather too mercenary and ambitious adventuress, and tonight, after a surfeit of Marguerite St. Julienne’s appalling looks and conversation, Nadia Benckendorff seemed like an angel. A fallen angel, of course, but what did that matter when she was going to be of only temporary interest? Smiling a little at her gullibility, he made his way back to his own box, steeling himself a little before going in to endure more of his mother’s protégée.
The following morning, while Nadia and Dorothea slept late after their very satisfactory assignations with their respective lovers, Leonie rose early at the seminary and went down for the daily ordeal of breakfast in Miss Hart’s parlor. She said as little as possible and endeavored to avoid the others’ attention, for she was already learning how poor Miss Mathers must have felt when each day either Miss Ross or Mlle. Clary managed to delegate one of their own duties. This morning it was Mademoiselle who imposed upon her by requesting her to take some of her pupils for an airing in the park. In the face of Miss Hart’s silence on the matter, Leonie had no option but to acquiesce, and shortly after ten she escorted the small party across Park Lane and through the park gates.
The fog had lifted and the weak winter sun shone down from an ice-blue sky. For once she found herself free of the barbed remarks of some of the pupils in her temporary charge, for they were far too excited about the news that there was now a thin layer of Ice on the Thames. Their talk was therefore almost solely about frost fairs, and their chances of maybe persuading relatives to take them.
Returning to the seminary afterward, Leonie noticed a handsome dark red carriage drawn up at the curb. As she ushered her charges across the busy street, she saw Guy de Lacey alight from the carriage and assist Imogen down. Imogen wore yellow, a startlingly summery color for mid-January, and she looked very eye-catching indeed. She paused on the pavement, shaking out her skirts, and then she hurried on into the seminary, without waiting for Guy, who had turned once more to assist a third person down from the carriage. Leonie’s momentary surprise at Imogen’s haste to go inside was almost immediately forgotten as she looked at the third person. It was a girl of about twelve, and she knew it had to be Guy’s niece, Stella de Lacey.
She was slightly built, with long dark ringlets tumbling from beneath her straw bonnet. She had large, melting brown eyes which looked huge in her small face. They were expressive eyes, and at the moment their expression was little short of mutinous. Her whole figure exuded defiance, and there was something in the set of her stubborn little mouth which promised a great deal of trouble in the days ahead. Stella de Lacey was not about to give in easily to her punishment, that much was certain.
Leonie’s pupils filed past the carriage, glancing curiously at the new arrival, but Stella only glowered at them, not in the least intimidated. Guy became aware of Leonie then, quickly removing his hat and inclining his head. “Good morning, Miss Conyngham.”
Unwillingly she met his eyes, for she knew that she found him too attractive. A flush leapt quickly to her cheeks, and she murmured a hasty acknowledgment and made as if to hurry on.
He put out a gentle restraining hand. “Please, Miss Conyngham, for I don’t wish to remain at odds with you.”
She had no option then but to halt, and she was aware of the giggling of the girls as they walked on into the warmth of the seminary.
He released her. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you any embarrassment!”
“You did not, sir.”
“I merely wished to tell you how very sorry I am about your father.”
She felt unnecessarily defensive. “My father is innocent, Sir Guy.”
“I wasn’t expressing my belief in his guilt, Miss Conyngham, please believe me. I didn’t know him, but I do know you, and I’m sorry that you are now placed in such a sad predicament.”
A little confused, the color still touching her cheeks, she’ looked up into his eyes. “Thank you, sir.”
He smiled a little. “After our first encounter I can quite understand that you think me a disagreeable bear of the first order, but I promise you that I’m not.” He studied her for a moment. “I was surprised to hear that you had chosen to become a teacher.”
“Choice didn’t enter into it, Sir Guy. I had debts to meet and no roof over my head, and it was pointed out to me that the only honorable thing I could do was accept a post in order to solve both problems, the one for myself and the other for Miss Hart.”
“I see.” He glanced away, remembering Nadia Benckendorff’s face at the embassy ball.
“Do you, Sir Guy?” She couldn’t help the note of irony creeping into her voice, for he had never known what it was to be destitute. She herself knew that feeling of desperation only too well now.
“Yes, Miss Conyngham, I do, and rather more than I fancy you imagine.” He held her gaze. “And I’m not referring to your unenviable position, I’m referring to certain circumstances which combined to make that position a great deal worse for you.”
“Miss Benckendorff?”
He looked at her in surprise. “I hadn’t realized you were aware.”
“She came with Countess Lieven on the day I was told about my father’s death. I would have had to be dull-witted indeed not to detect her hand in things.”
He suddenly put his hand hesitantly to her cheek, it was an, oddly tender gesture. He wore no glove and the warmth of his fingers seemed to burn like fire. “Miss Conyngham,” he said softly, “I wish to forget how unforgivably rude I was to you when first we met. May we begin again?”
His closeness and the lingering touch of his fingers affected her so much that she felt almost weak. A giddy emotion was tumbling through her, confusing and distracting, as if she was under some sort of spell, and it was only with a great effort that she managed a light smile, drawing away a little. “Of course we may, sir.”
He looked into her eyes for a moment more and then turned suddenly to his niece. “May I present my niece, Miss Stella de Lacey? Stella, this is Miss Conyngham, one of your teachers.”
Recovering quickly now, Leonie smiled at the girl. “I’m pleased to meet you, Stella.”
Stella scowled, her lips pressing rebelliously together.
Guy’s anger rose sharply. “Where are your manners, Stella? Speak when you’re spoken to!”
“Why should I?” declared the girl then. “I don’t want to come here, I want to stay at Berkeley Street with you! Don’t send me here, Uncle Guy. Please.”
“Will you promise to behave yourself and be at all times polite and respectful to Imogen?”
Stella looked resentfully away and didn’t reply.
“Very well,” he said, “you leave me no choice. I won’t be dictated to, Stella.”
Stella gestured after the vanished Imogen. “
She
dictates to you!” she cried.
“Imogen is to be my wife,” he replied, with forced patience, “and she does
not
dictate to me. She and I discuss things of mutual importance, and then we come to a decision.”
“I’m nothing to do with her. She hasn’t any right to—”
“Be quiet!” he snapped. “Imogen has every right, especially when I consult her. We’ve decided that until you are prepared to conduct yourself graciously, you are to remain here.”
“
She
wants me to stay here forever. She doesn’t want me ever to go home again!”
“That’s nonsense.”
“No, it isn’t. She hates me!”
“She doesn’t hate you, although by all that’s holy you’ve given her every reason to loathe you. I don’t know what’s been the matter with you recently, Stella, you’ve changed so much that sometimes I think I hardly know you.”
“We were happy until
she
came along!”
“Don’t persist in talking about Imogen in that way,” he replied angrily. “I won’t have you home, Stella, not until you cease being such an obnoxious little tyrant. This disagreeable and downright willful defiance has simply got to stop.”
Tears filled Stella’s eyes and her lips quivered, but she didn’t say anything more. Leonie’s sympathy went out to her, for she could see the truth behind the girl’s outrageous conduct. She was desperately unhappy and frightened about what the future held in store now that a woman like Imogen Longhurst had entered Guy de Lacey’s life. Stella had said it all when she said that she and her uncle had been happy until Imogen came onto the scene. That was how it always was with Imogen: she was devoid of kindness and understanding.
Guy turned a little apologetically. “Forgive me, Miss Conyngham, I’m afraid that I’ve yet again let my temper get the better of me. In mitigation I can only plead that in recent weeks I’ve endured enough conflict to last me for the rest of my hitherto peaceful life.” He smiled. “I sincerely hope that a stay here will have the desired effect upon my niece, for it goes very much against the grain with me that it’s necessary for her to come here at all. Now, shall we go inside? Imogen has unfortunately to leave almost immediately for Windsor, as she has to wait upon the queen, and she cannot delay much longer before setting out.”
And Imogen’s plans must come first, thought Leonie critically. If Imogen had royal duties, then she should attend to them herself and leave Guy to do his duty where his niece was concerned. But no, that wouldn’t do; Imogen needs must delay until the last moment and thus keep the friction at flamepoint, and thus also ensure that Guy remained at the seminary for the shortest time possible. Leonie knew Imogen too well, having in the past had ample opportunity to witness her methods at close quarters.
Preceding Guy and Stella into the seminary, Leonie wondered again about Imogen. Why had she hurried on in as she had? Surely she couldn’t be eager to see Miss Hart, not after having stayed away for nearly two years now. No, she was up to something. But what?
Entering the vestibule, she saw Imogen and Miss Hart emerging from the visitors’ room. They didn’t notice her at first and so she saw how conspiratorial they were. “You may rely on me, Lady Imogen,” the headmistress was murmuring. “I promise to do exactly as you have requested.”
Guy came in at that moment and overheard. “And what have you requested?” he inquired of Imogen.
She turned with a sharp gasp. “Guy! I didn’t know you were there!” She gave a nervous laugh then, a false little laugh which struck another warning chord in Leonie. “I was merely asking Miss Hart to do all she could to make Stella’s stay a happy one, for I realize how dreadful she must be feeling and I want to make things as pleasant as possible for her.”
Leonie looked suspiciously at Miss Hart, whose eyes were prudently lowered to a close study of the floor tiles.
Imogen smiled and hurried across to Guy, linking her arm through his. “I know I’m being difficult, sweetheart, but truly I must set off now for Windsor.”
“I know. I’ll just say good-bye to Stella.”
“I’ll wait in the carriage,” she said, her deep blue eyes flickering momentarily to Leonie, whom she knew she hadn’t fooled in the least. A faint smile curved her lips and then she was gone.
Guy turned to Stella. “I don’t want to leave you here,” he said gently, “but you must understand that you cannot impose your will upon me. Be good, so that Miss Hart sends me favorable reports of your progress, and I promise you that you will come to Poyntons for the house party on the ninth of February. Be disobedient and I shall remain firm in my resolve.”
Leonie looked again at Miss Hart. So, that was it. Imogen had told her not on any account to send Guy approving reports!
Guy bent to kiss Stella on the cheek, but she averted her face. He hesitated, but then suddenly turned on his heel and left. Joseph hurried to close the door behind him.