Anne Barbour (27 page)

David swallowed. He had revealed to Kate the fear that had consumed him on that bloody night, but he was damned if he’d discuss it with anyone else, even his best friend. He sighed wearily. “Let it go, Lucius. Suffice it to say that Kate’s misplaced trust makes for the most exquisite punishment I could possibly endure. Besides, you know she looks on me as a surrogate brother—right now, she needs a replacement for Philip, and that’s what I’m trying to be.”

Lucius snorted.

“Besides, she’s going to be a very wealthy young woman in a few months. I couldn’t possibly ask her to settle for me, when she will have half the eligible men in London at her feet.”

Lucius snorted again. “Lord, I never knew you could be such a gudgeon.” He rose and adjusted his coat and the splendid waistcoat beneath it. “Never let it be said that I should come between a man and the enjoyment of his guilt, Davey lad, but if you’ll take a piece of advice from an old comrade, you’ll snap up the matchless Miss Millbank before Regina marries her off to Lawrence. Believe me, as one who knows, that woman’s machinations are not to be made light of.”

With that, he hastened from the room, remarking that he must make his farewells to the rest of the family.

For the first few moments after David stalked from the bower, Kate simply sat, wishing she had bitten her tongue— that she had gnawed it through at the roots, for that matter. Would she never learn to control her wretched temper? What must David think of her? She had surely sounded like—well, like a certified bitch. If he never spoke to her again, she would not be surprised.

A fresh horror gripped her. Had she left him with the impression that she was actually in love with Lawrence? He had said he would not stand in her way if she truly wished to marry him. Lord, how inutterably stupid she had been.

She rose slowly, and with dragging steps, made her way back to the house. There, unable to bear her own thoughts, she fled to the library and tried with a notable lack of success to immerse herself in one of Uncle Thomas’s volumes on her favorite subject, the Roman occupation of Britain. It was here that Lucius found her some time later.

“You are the last on my list of good-byes,” he sighed as he eased himself into a leather-covered armchair. “And, I might add, the only one to whom it is truly a hardship to say farewell—other than David, of course.”

“I don’t see why you are leaving at all,” Kate said with a smile. “Westerly will be dull when you are gone.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but Father wants me back home, and when Father speaks, nations listen.” He paused for a moment. “You’re looking remarkably pensive this morning. I’d like to think the shadow on your brow is the result of my departure, but I feel there must be another reason.”

“Oh—no—I’ve just been so engrossed in this book.” Her eyes fell as she met his gaze, and she amended her statement with a rueful smile. “If you must know, David and I had another—confrontation, and it was all my fault. Oh, Lucius, why do I behave like such a peagoose when I’m with him?”

“I believe,” he replied after due consideration, “that it is a failing of women in love.”

“What!” Kate started forward in her chair, causing the heavy tome to fall to the floor with a thump. Oblivious, Kate stared at Lucius. “What are you talking about?”

“Merely making an observation.”

“But I am not in—that is, of course, I love David. He is my dearest friend, and has been closer than ...”

“If you’re going to tell me again that you love David like a brother,” said Lucius severely, “I really shall think you a ninnyhammer. I am not seven, you know.”

“Dear heaven, Lucius,” she breathed in alarm. “You haven’t said anything like that to David have you? For, I’d curl up and die if he even suspected ...”

“You impugn the honor of the Pelhams, my good woman. Never let it be said that yours truly would betray the secrets of a maiden’s heart. No matter how totty-headed the maiden happens to be.”

“Now, see here ...” she began, but was quickly silenced.

“Well, just look at the way you behaved this morning. During your, er, confrontation, was there the slightest hint in your demeanor that would give David the idea that your feeling for him is slightly warmer than that of a spinster aunt for her pet pug?”

“Of course not. Lucius, David thinks of me as nothing more than a bothersome child grown to adulthood. Oh, yes, he loves me, but only ...”

“... As a sister. Oh, God, spare me.”

“... But only,” she finished with great dignity, “because he has needed a friend, and I am here for him.”

She rose to look, unseeing, out the window.

“And I have been glad of that,” she continued, pleased that her voice remained calm, “but the time will soon come when he will not need me anymore. He will marry eventually, and by the time that occurs, I shall be gone from Westerly.”

“I see. And who is to be the happy bride? Little Miss Davenport, perhaps, with her fat curls and bouncing bosom?”

“Perhaps,” replied Kate through gritted teeth. “Although I should think he would look higher. He can, you know. Anyone would wish to m-marry him, after all.” She could feel her eyes filling and brushed her hand angrily against them.

Lucius had also risen, and now he came forward to grasp Kate by the shoulders.

“And you are just going to stand aside and let some other female waltz off with him? My, my, what incredible nobility of soul. Without so much as hinting that he would be so much happier with you, if only he had the sense to see it.”

Kate gazed at him resentfully. “It’s all very well for you to be handing out advice, Lucius. You are not a woman ...”

“For which the gods be profoundly thanked.”

“... And you do not understand the limitations that are placed on us.”

“Such as those placed on Lady Cilia Merritt?”

Kate was surprised at the bitterness in his tone. He grimaced.

“I had become rather fond of her, you see, and I thought she genuinely liked me. I fear I was shaken in my own estimation after last week’s performance—amateurish as it was.”

“Oh, Lucius, surely you realize that Aunt Regina was behind it all?”

“Yes, but, you see ..,” He smiled rather painfully. “Ah, but I shall recover. You,” he continued seriously, “will not, I believe.”

He took her hand and bestowed a light kiss upon it.

“I must be off, my dear. David will be waiting in the hall to see me off. Do remember, though, faint heart never won fair gentleman.”

With this, he left the room, Kate following in his wake.

Chapter Twenty

In the hall, they found not only David but Lady Falworth, Crawford, Lawrence, and even Aunt Fred. Only Cilia had failed to join the gathering.

“Good-bye, dear boy,” trilled Regina. “Do come back to see us soon.”

Aunt Fred chimed in with her own farewell, and Crawford called a genial good-bye. Lawrence stood by somewhat warily. Kate withdrew a little and waited her turn with a smile as Lucius shook hands with the gentlemen and kissed those of the ladies.

When he came to her, did not take her hand, but reached up to cup her face with both of his and brushed her cheek lightly with his lips.

“Good-bye, Miss Millbank,” he whispered. “Fare you well.”

She smiled mistily.

“And you, Mr. Pelham.”

And then he was out the door and leaping into his elegant carriage. The coachman cracked his whip, and in a moment, the vehicle rattled down the long driveway toward the gates of Bath stone.

When David looked around, Kate was gone. His face tightened. As he began to close the great front door, his attention was caught by a flash of something—no someone running across the lawn. Why, it was Cilia! Evidently she had been lying in wait for Lucius’s coach to pass, for she reached the driveway just as it sped past her.

To David’s dismay, the coach drew to a jarring halt. Good God, was Cilia still up to her tricks? The carriage door opened, and Lucius made as though to step from it. David started to run down the driveway, but was brought up short as he observed Cilia’s gesture of denial. Indeed, she thrust her hands behind her back as she spoke to Lucius, then turned and ran the way she had come, stumbling as she did so.

Lucius stared after her for a long moment, then disappeared again inside the carriage. It sprang into motion once more, and soon vanished behind the trees bordering the drive.

David watched Cilia move slowly across the grass toward the house, and intercepted her as she was about to enter through a terrace door.

“What was the meaning of that, Cilia? Were you determined to have one last stab at Lucius? Have you no shame?”

To his consternation, she burst into tears.

“Cilia,” he cried, his wrath suddenly dissolved. “Don’t do that. Here.” He pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and began dabbing ineffectually at her streaming eyes. He led her to a settee placed in one corner of the hall and, with some awkwardness, deposited her upon it.

“Oh, David,” the girl sobbed. “I didn’t waylay him—at least not to serve him any more tricks.”

“Then what was your purpose? Surely, you must know ...”

“M-my purpose was to apologize to him.” She straightened, and with an attempt at dignity, she took the handkerchief from him and dried her cheeks. David simply stared at her.

“To what?”

“To tell him I am sorry for my wr-wretched behavior. I have been so ashamed, David! If you could have seen the look on his face—the contempt in his eyes as he withdrew from the conservatory. I simply could not face him afterward—but I couldn’t let him leave without explaining.”

“What was there to explain?” David’s voice was stern, but not without sympathy. Cilia paled and sank back upon the settee.

“That’s what made it so awful. There was nothing I could say to excuse my behavior, so I could only apologize. I’m sure it didn’t do a whit of good—his only response was a disdainful stare, but at least I said it.”

“I suppose the whole fiasco was your mother’s idea,” said David with a frown.

“Well, yes, it was, but I can’t pretend that I didn’t throw myself wholeheartedly into her wretched scheme. She wanted Mr. Pelham’s money, and—I wanted Mr. Pelham, and I am so used to falling in with Mama’s designs. Indeed,” she hurried on, as though determined to reveal the worst, “when Kate and Lady Frederica popped up out of nowhere, I was as furious as I was astonished. It was not until I looked into Mr. Pelham’s eyes that I realized what a truly abominable thing I had done. I learned a great deal about myself that day, you see, and what I discovered was not very pleasing. I shall probably never see him again, but it is no more than I deserve.”

She rose. “I’ll have this laundered”—she indicated the now very damp handkerchief in her hand—”and will return it to you tomorrow. I must go now.” With a final, faint sniffle, she was gone, leaving David to stare after her in bemusement.

He, too, rose after a moment, and limped from the hall in the direction of his study. Well, well, he reflected, would his family never cease to surprise him? Was it possible that Cilia might escape from her mother’s damaging influence? If so, he thought, his lips curving upward, he rather thought that she might see Lucius again sometime, after all.

He entered the study and drew to an immediate halt. Kate stood near his desk, a shaft of sunlight creating a bright aura around her head. She looked up, a diffident expression in her eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind my waiting for you here.” Her voice was low and tentative, and it caused a familiar stirring deep in David’s stomach. He felt as though all he wanted to do right now was simply stand and look at her for an hour or two. No, what he wanted to do right now was to walk up to her, take her in his arms, and kiss her until she was breathless.

“No, of course not,” he replied in a voice of calm courtesy. “Will you have some wine?”

“‘No—no, thank you. I thought we might have a talk, David.”

In answer, he drew up a chair for her, and when she was settled, pulled up another for himself. Kate looked at him for a moment before she began to speak. Dear heaven, she thought, would she ever get over her need of this man?

“It seems,” she began, in a voice of cool reserve, “that many of our conversations lately have ended in unnecessary confrontation.”

It had taken her some time to compose that little speech, and, while she had been quite proud of it a few moments ago, it now sounded stupid and stilted in her ears. David, however, merely nodded.

“Yes, we seem to have developed a knack for rubbing each other the wrong way.”

This, unfortunately, led Kate’s wayward thoughts to the moment outside the villa when David’s fingers had stroked her with such shameful results. She blushed.

“This morning, we were discussing my plans for my future.”

David nodded again.

“I thought perhaps I should tell you that, while I have no immediate plans, I shall be coming into my majority in a few months.”

David still said nothing.

“At that time, I believe I shall make plans to remove from Westerly to live in, perhaps Brighton, or Bath, or even London.”

Though she knew she had decided on the correct course, she listened achingly to the silence that yawned between them. He did not say the words she would have given her famous fortune to hear. Indeed, when he finally answered, his voice was harsh.

“A wise decision, Kate. It would be foolish to immure yourself here, for you have your life ahead of you.”

Kate felt almost physically bruised by his words, as though he had just hurled a handful of pebbles at her. The smile she bestowed on him, however, was merely questioning.

“Perhaps Lord and Lady Buckminster would sponsor you for a year or so.” His voice was barely a growl now. “I know the relationship is quite distant, but surely you must be well acquainted with them.”

“Oh, yes.” Kate marveled at her control. Why, one would think that leaving Westerly was her dearest wish. “In fact, their daughter, Susan, and I made our come out in the same year. Lady Buckminster and Aunt Regina often gave parties and routs together.”

“Well, then ...”