“And don’t think you will be able to tell the truth, for I’ll say that you kept a tryst with me, indeed that you kept many trysts and that you shared my bed, all in the hope that you could win a duke. How much better to be a duchess than a mere lady.”
She tried to push him away, but her strength was useless against him. Slowly he took his hand away from her mouth, but before she could scream for help he was kissing her. It was a rough kiss, without skill or finesse. She felt him fumbling with the fastening of her gown, and then his fingers were moving against her warm skin. She struggled again, but he only kissed her the more, his lips demanding, allowing no resistance. Tears lay wet on her cheeks as again and again she tried to twist away, but to no avail, and this time there was no Delphine nearby to force him to stop.
She clawed at the grass in her efforts to drag herself free, and suddenly her fingers closed over a small stone. She didn’t hesitate; she picked it up and beat it with all her might against his head. It was a very small stone, and her strength was feeble after struggling, but he gave a grunt of pain and was dazed enough to relax his hold.
She scrambled away like a freed animal, her skirt ripping on some thorns as she ran from the clearing. She didn’t look behind and she didn’t stop. Her gown caught again on a jagged branch, and her hair tumbled down from its pins. She could hear her own terrified heartbeats as she ran headlong down the path, her tears almost blinding her.
The path dipped suddenly and she fell heavily, and as she fell she caught a fleeting glimpse of Delphine’s startled face.
“Delphine!”
With a gasp, Delphine dropped the bunch of wild roses she had been gathering, and hurried to help her. “What’s happened? Are you all right?”
“It’s Felix!” Bryony clung to her, glancing fearfully back along the deserted path.
Delphine stared at her. “Felix?” she whispered. “Oh, no, surely not ...”
“He said he would have his revenge on Sebastian,” whispered Bryony, “he said he would tell everyone I’d kept a tryst with him.”
Delphine took a deep breath. “Bryony, did he ... ? I mean ...”
Bryony shook her head. “I managed to escape in time.”
Delphine straightened. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone,” she said suddenly.
“Not say anything? Delphine, he
forced
himself upon me!”
“Yes, but you managed to get away. Oh, please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not asking this of you in order to protect my family’s name or anything like that, I’m asking you because my mother would be the one to suffer if it got about that Felix had done something like this. And then you have Sebastian to think about, don’t you? If you say anything about this, you run the risk of him believing Felix’s side of it. You
must
think before you say anything, Bryony.”
Bryony got slowly to her feet. “He attacked me,” she said again, but there was a hesitation in her voice.
“It would still be far better all around if you kept silent,” said Delphine.
Bryony stared at her for a moment and then lowered her eyes. Delphine was right, she couldn’t say anything, but it had nothing to do with the duchess, who deserved no consideration whatsoever. It had everything to do with Sebastian, though, for she didn’t want him to listen to what Felix would say. She could not bear the thought of his believing such things of her.
Delphine was anxious. “What will you do?”
“I won’t say anything,” she said at last, “but how can I explain my appearance?”
“We’ll say that you fell, and they’ll believe it because I will back your story up and say that I saw you fall.”
Bryony was doubtful, for she knew that she did not really look as if she had fallen, she looked as if she had been struggling with someone. As she stood there in miserable indecision, she heard hoofbeats. Her heart faltered and dismay swept icily through her, for it was Sebastian who rode toward them.
He reined in immediately, his eyes sharpening; then he dismounted and came to her. “Who did this to you?” he demanded, seizing her arms.
She couldn’t reply; it was as if her tongue was tied. But Delphine spoke up quickly. “She fell over there in the woods, I saw her.”
He released Bryony and turned coldly to his cousin. “I’m not a fool, Delphine, so please don’t treat me like one.”
“But it’s true, I swear it is!”
He glanced shrewdly at Bryony. “Well? Is it?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“You couldn’t convince a jury of children,” he replied. “Someone did this to you and I want to know his name.”
Delphine began to gather the fallen roses. “Please believe us, Sebastian, she really did fall, and I was about to take her to rejoin the—”
“No!” he snapped. “That’s something I absolutely forbid.”
Delphine looked a little hurt. “I was only trying to help.”
“Then I think little of your notion of assistance, for you and I both know that she hasn’t suffered a fall, just as everyone else will know the moment they see her. What do you imagine they will think then? Might they not choose to interpret things in the worst possible light? Think, cousin, and admit that I’m right.”
Delphine lowered her eyes. “Yes, I suppose you are.”
He hesitated for a moment, as if coming to some decision. “There is something you can do, however.”
“Yes?”
“I would be grateful if you would return to the party and inform them all that due to unforeseen circumstances the betrothal is to be delayed. Delayed, not canceled. I would also like you to tell Felix that I wish to speak to him.”
Bryony’s eyes widened and her lips parted with dismay. Why did he want to delay the betrothal? And why did he wish to see Felix? Surely it couldn’t be that somehow he’d guessed what had happened and was wondering if she was in some way to blame? Oh, please don’t let it be that!
Delphine was equally astonished. “The betrothal is to be delayed? But why?”
“The explanation will be forthcoming when I’m ready. Will you do it for me, Delphine?”
“Yes.” She picked up the last spray of roses. “I’m just to tell them that, with no reason?”
“For the moment.”
She searched his face for a moment and then turned to walk away.
The moment she had gone, he turned quickly to Bryony, putting his hand briefly to her face. “Believe me, it’s no reflection on you that I wish to postpone the betrothal, for I’ve never had more faith in you than I have now.”
A weakening surge of relief swept through her. “Then why ... ?”
“Because I know you didn’t fall. And because I know that Felix did this to you. Admit it, Bryony.”
“No! You’re wrong!”
He held her gaze. “Admit it, Bryony,” he said again.
“I don’t want to say anything,” she whispered.
“You must. Please, Bryony, it’s very important.”
She hardly noticed that he called her by her first name. “I want to forget it,” she pleaded, “for if I say anything, then he will accuse me of dreadful misconduct, and I could not bear that!”
“This isn’t something which can be forgotten. Or ignored. I want you to leave Polwithiel and come to Tremont. You cannot remain in his house.”
“No, not Tremont!” she said quickly. “Not there, it is your mistress’s house—”
He took her by the arms. “Do you still intend to be my wife?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then I don’t want to hear anything more about Petra, is that clear? I just want you to obey ... No, that’s too strong a word. I want you to agree to my wishes in this. Will you, Bryony?”
She stared at him. She didn’t want to go to Tremont, but there was something in his eyes which compelled her to consent. “Yes,” she said at last, “yes, I will.”
He took out his fob watch. “How long will your maid need?”
Her mind was suddenly blank. This was all happening so quickly, and it came so swiftly after her ordeal with Felix. “I ... I don’t know,” she said helplessly. “I just can’t think—”
“The guests will begin arriving for the ball at eight, so I will send a carriage to take you away at seven. That will give you two hours.” He smiled a little reassuringly. “I’m sure that everything can be attended to in that time, can it not?”
She nodded. “I suppose so.”
“I’ll take you back to Polwithiel now. We’ll go through the woods and around the back into the stableyard—there’s a postern gate there. With luck there’ll be hardly anyone at the stables; they’ll be resting before the hard work of tonight. From the corner of the stableyard there’s a door which opens onto a little-used back staircase that leads up to the landing by the bathhouse. Do you know the one I mean?”
“Yes.”
“If you go up that way you should be able to reach your apartment without anyone seeing you, and thus you will avoid any awkward questions concerning your appearance.”
She looked up into his eyes. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Why do you still seem surprised that I should?”
She didn’t reply; how could she, when she still believed he had lied to her?
“I’ve never left you in any doubt as to my intentions toward you, Bryony. I’ve always meant to marry you, and nothing has changed that. It seems there is nothing I can say which will convince you that I’ve been telling the truth, but I promise you one thing: when you are my wife you will know well enough that Petra is not my mistress, for my every night will be accounted for, and you, madam, will be the accountant! But that is in the future, and it is of the present that we must think now. There isn’t a great deal of time and I want you gone from Polwithiel before I face Felix with anything.”
“Face him?” she gasped. “What do you mean?”
“Bryony,” he said gently, “I know that he will say you kept an assignation with him and that you are a worthless coquette who has been warming his bed for him. I know that he will claim you are an adventuress intent upon being a duchess, and I know that his purpose all along has been revenge. Through you he has hoped to make me the laughingstock of society, just as he believes I made him when I held a better hand of cards. One thing he has not bargained for, however, and that is that the moment he laid his foul hands upon you he made certain of a confrontation with me.”
She stared. “No! Please don’t—”
“He has left me no choice, Bryony. I have to call him out.”
It was nearly eight o’clock and the first carriages were beginning to arrive for the ball, but still Bryony had heard nothing from Sebastian. She sat anxiously in the window seat, watching each coach as it made its slow way up the long incline to the house, but as each one drew neat, she saw that it contained guests, ladies and gentlemen dressed in all their finery for the ball.
She toyed with the embroidered edge of her shawl. Where was the carriage he had told her would come? Why was it so late? It would be quite difficult to leave now that so many guests had begun to arrive; she could not possibly hope to slip out unnoticed.
She raised her glance to the estuary in the distance. The water was bright beneath the evening sky, and a royal naval frigate was standing out to sea, her sails stretching before the breeze. Bryony stared at the ship without really seeing it. What if Sebastian had spoken to Felix? What if he had begun to doubt her?
She got up agitatedly, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. She could, see her pale-faced reflection in the mirror, her hair once more done up into a neat knot, the torn yellow-and-white-striped lawn replaced by a demure light green chemise gown. The strain of all that had happened, and was still to happen, showed in her large anxious eyes and pallid cheeks.
Sally sat waiting nearby, her little cape and bonnet lying upon the table. Bryony’s baggage was ready, every last item packed carefully away. Now it only remained for the carriage to come for them both. The maid glanced sadly at her mistress. Please, oh, please let the coach come soon, let it not be that the duke’s persuasive tongue had tipped the balance against her.
There were light footsteps at the door and Bryony whirled hopefully about, but it was Delphine. She wore gleaming gold silk and her dark hair was entirely concealed by a matching turban. It was a severe fashion, one which Petra could have carried off with style, but it did not suit Delphine, it hardened her face and made her mouth look thin. She seemed ill-at-ease. “You ... you are expecting a carriage from Tremont?”
“Yes.”
“It will not be coming now. Sebastian has sent a message to say that he wishes the betrothal to take place at the ball after all.”
Bryony was thunderstruck. “But that cannot possibly be so!”
“The message was clear enough. I suggest that you attend to your dressing immediately, if you intend to do as Sebastian wishes, for the guests are arriving all the time now and your continued absence will soon be difficult to explain away.”
She went out, not closing the door behind her, so that the rustle of her golden skirts could be heard long after she had passed out of sight. They heard the folding doors close and then nothing more. Now the sound of music could be heard drifting through the house from the great hall, while down in the quadrangle several more carriages arrived.
Bryony turned helplessly to Sally. “What shall I do?”
“I don’t know, Miss Bryony. But if he sent that message ...”
“Yes, I suppose I must do as he wishes.” But Bryony’s mind was racing. This was such a complete turnabout on Sebastian’s part, for earlier he had been so emphatic that on no account must she remain at Polwithiel. Now he wished her to actually attend the ball, where she was almost certain to come face to face with Felix. Reluctantly she nodded at the maid. “The silver organdy.”
“Yes, Miss Bryony.” The maid hastened to the baggage, dragging out the trunk containing all the gowns. She looked in dismay at the crumpled silver muslin. “I’ll have to attend to it first, Miss Bryony.”
As the maid hurried out, Bryony returned to the window seat. The shadows were lengthening across the park now and the first lanterns beginning to glimmer among the trees. As darkness fell the park would twinkle with hundreds of little colored lights, while the house itself would be visible for many miles, every window ablaze with brightness. She was trembling inside as she waited for the maid to return, and her palms were suddenly very cold. She didn’t want to go down to the ball, and she didn’t want to see Felix again. Why had Sebastian changed his mind?