Authors: Diane Farr
“Y
ou
’
ve wasted nearly ten,
”
he told her softly.
“I
f what you meant to do was bid me goodbye, you have wasted all your time thus far.
”
She glanced apprehensively at him.
“W
hat do you mean? I have tried to explain to you
—
oh, I see. You mean I haven
’
t explained it.
”
“
Cynthia
, my love, you
cannot
explain it.
”
He spoke with utter conviction.
“T
he moment you admitted that your feelings matched mine, your cause was lost.
”
A tiny smile played at the edges of his mouth.
“I
shall never let you tell me goodbye,
”
he whispered. In hi
s eyes was complete confidence,
and infinite tenderness.
He took the handkerchief from her suddenly-nerveless fingers, touched it lightly to her damp cheeks, folded it, kissed it, and returned it to his pocket. All the while, she stared helplessly at him, her thoughts tumbling chaotically. She had muddled it somehow. Somehow, she had failed to make matters clear to him. For surely, if he understood, he would let her go. It was the correct thing to do. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
And if he did not?
Her imagination balked. It was inconceivable. How
could
he not? If she told him to keep his distance from her, he had to honor her request. She thought she had said it plainly, but evidently she had not. She would say it even more plainly. They were running out of time.
She faced him squarely and seized both his hands, earnestly leaning forward in her eagerness to claim his full attention, to make him understand.
“D
erek, please. Don
’
t make this more difficult than it already is. I hoped I had made it clear to you. I am bidding you farewell not because I want to, but because I must. I am heartily sorry if it pains you, but whether it pains you or no, you must accept it. As I have done.
”
“
Cynthia
, my love
—”
“I
am
not
your love. I can never be your love.
”
Her eyes frantically searched his, and found only refusal
—
and tenderness. She shook her head despairingly.
“D
on
’
t you understand? I have a
duty.
Duty has a stronger claim than emotion. My parents gave me life. They gave me a home, an upbringing, an education. I would not even exist if not for them. And the Bible strictly admonishes us to honor our mothers and fathers. It would be
wicked
for me to disobey them in this. They have pinned all their hopes on me. Marrying where my duty lies is the sole way I can repay them for all they have done. If things were different
—
if I had a sister, p
erhaps, who might take my place
...
”
Her voice trailed off, then grew strong again.
“B
ut I do not. And it is silly to repine. My life is what it is, and there
’
s nothing to be done about it.
”
His brows had drawn into a troubled frown.
“Y
ou realize, I suppose, that I am no longer the poor man I was three years ago.
”
She nodded, miserable.
“I
know that you have inherited Crosby Hall, although I am not quite sure how it happened. But ...
”
Hope stirred in her heart. She caught her breath. Was it possible Mama was mistaken about Derek
’
s estate? Was he, after all, wealthy enough to help her family?
“H
ow
—
how large an estate is Crosby Hall?
”
He looked even more perturbed.
“W
hat an indelicate question, my dear,
”
he said wryly.
“B
ut since you are so frank about what matters to you, I will answer with equal frankness. It is fairly large, and it is prosperous. It provides me with what the world calls a
‘
respectable
’
income.
”
Her heart sank.
“Y
es. That was my impression.
”
“W
hat! So downcast? A respectable income is, I take it, insufficient?
”
She had offended him. It could not be helped.
“D
erek, I wish there were time for me to tread lightly on the subject, but the clock may chime at any moment
—”
“Y
es, yes, I understand you.
”
His face had set once again in grim lines.
“Y
ou require great wealth, and will not marry for less.
”
“C
annot.
”
She shivered.
“I
have more than myself to consider. More than my own wishes. My entire family looks to me. They depend upon me to mend our fortunes.
”
“I
will ask you one question. And think before you answer,
Cynthia
; this is important.
”
His eyes were very dark and serious, his expression unreadable.
“I
s it only your parents who want you to marry a rich man? I need to know, sweetheart, so tell me truly. Everyone wants a comfortable life. But how important is it to you, to have luxury at your command? Would you feel deprived if you could not have the best of everything? If you could not spend unthinkingly, buying whatever took your fancy?
”
The idea was so absurd that it startled a laugh out of her. She had never had a life of luxury. Her family had been financially strapped for as long as she could remember. Mama had gone to tremendous efforts to conjure up the appearance of wealth, merely to launch
Cynthia
upon the world.
Cynthia
had had habits of economy instilled in her at a very early age. Apart from the needs of her parents, she cared nothing for great wealth. Indeed, she wouldn
’
t know what to do with it. She started to tell Derek so
—
and then stopped herself.
He had given her a way out.
All she need do was confess to having a mercenary heart. It would be a false confession, but perhaps God would forgive her this tiny lie. She would tell it in pursuit of a much greater good: forcing Derek to accept the inevitable.
Because if he did not
... if he did not help her to turn her back
on him
... she feared she would not have the strength to do her duty. Her weakness for him was like Papa
’
s weakness for drink. It would lead to ruin if she indulged it. The resentment she felt toward Mama lately, her increasing restlessness, her inner chaos
—
all were the result of her feelings for Derek Whittaker. These feelings were
wrong
. They didn
’
t feel wrong, but they had to be; they were having a harmful effect. Not only were they making
Cynthia
miserable, they were leading her to rebel against her parents
’
God-given authority. Why, even now, as she contemplated
telling this little white lie—this lie in an excellent cause—
her heart was rebelling. Her traitorous heart was b
egging her not to lie to Derek. Not for any reason N
ot ever.
She dropped her eyes and stared steadfastly at the knot in his cravat.
“W
ell,
”
she said cautiously,
“I
think you are right when you say that everyone wants to be comfortable. I suppose that some people are able to be comfortable with less than others. Some people require a
—
a great deal more than others, in the way of material goods, before they truly consider themselves comfortable.
”
“I
am asking what you require,
Cynthia
.
”
She could already hear the hardness in his voice. Anticipating her answer, he was condemning her.
Good,
she thought wildly.
Good.
She wanted him to condemn her. She wanted to convince him, despite the myriad ways she had betrayed her feelings in the past day or two, that he had been right to begin with
—
that she was nothing more than a moneygrubbing harpy. That her heart was as cold as rumor said it was.
“I
think I would like to be rich,
”
she heard herself say.
“A
nd how do you define
‘
rich?
’”
He sounded angry now.
She had no idea. She had never given it serious thought. Of course, a girl whose ambition was to be rich
would
have given it some thought, so
Cynthia
stalled for time. She turned her head sideways and tried to look vague.
“O
h, I don
’
t know,
”
she said, deliberately conveying the impression that she had an income in mind but was too coy to voice it.
She was not looking into Derek
’
s face any more, so she failed to read his intentions. She gasped, startled, when she felt herself roughly pulled to her feet. Derek had lifted them both off the window seat in one smooth motion. Before she knew what he was about, he had taken her, willy-nilly, in his arms. She looked instinctively up into his face, and was lost. She could not look away. His eyes, filled with pain, bored into hers.
“T
here are all sorts of riches,
Cynthia
,
”
he said hoarsely.
“W
ealth can be measured in many ways. Let me show you one of them.
”
He was going to kiss her.
Oh, no.
Panic su
rged through her; he would know
... he would know everything. The way she felt. The fact that she had lied. But a strange lassitude was
gripping her. S
he could not seem to move. Her eyes dilated with fear, but she did not pull away. And when his mouth closed on hers, her ability to think
fled, taking all fear with it.
She went limp and pliant in his arms, loving the feel of him. The taste of him.
Derek.
There was room
for nothing more in her mind. H
er racing thoughts quieted and focused. Her will to resist, consumed by a firestorm of pure emotion, vanished like smoke in a whirlwind. Chaos ended. Doubts faded to nothingness.
She belonged in Derek
’
s arms. This was right. This was good. This was all she ever wanted. For a few blissful seconds,
Cynthia
was in heaven.
And then, inevitably, the clock downstairs began to chime midnight.
Chapter
10
How could she kiss him like that if she didn
’
t care for him? She must feel
something
. Some tenderness, some desire. Something.
He was dimly aware of bells ringing in the distance.
Cynthia
seemed to freeze in his arms. She tore her face from his with a moan of frustration, then rested the top of her head against his lapel, staring at the floor and gulping air.
“I
must go,
”
she said, sounding half-strangled.
Midnight. Of course.
He threw his head back; he was feeling the need to gulp a little air, himself.
“V
ery well,
”
he said unsteadily,
“C
inderella.
”
She gave a sad little choke of laughter, then raised her head and looked at him.
“I
shall have to tell Mama that I did not find my book.
”
“G
ood. Perhaps she will let you come back out and continue your search.
”
“U
nlikely, I
’
m afraid.
”
She gave him a wan smile.
“I
would not hang about in the passage, waiting for me to reemerge, if I were you.
”
Her lovely face was a portrait of pure sorrow, bravely, but inadequately, hidden behind that unconvinci
ng smile. It was heartbreaking.
He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers.
“
Cynthia
,
”
he said hoarsely.
“I
would gladly wait all night, if
—”
“H
ush.
”
Her voice was tight with pain.
“N
o more. I must go, and quickly now. Goodnight.
”
“O
ne kiss more.
”
He bent his head, drunk with need, but she pushed him away as if panic-stricken.
“D
erek, I cannot stay. She will pull the bell rope and wake the servants. I must go back.
”
With a desperate little shudder,
Cynthia
pulled herself out of his embrace and picked up her lamp. The light wavered and danced in her trembling hand.
He extended his own hand, steadier than hers.
“G
ive me the lamp. I
’
ll escort you.
”
She hesitated, irresolute, then shook her head.
“M
y mother might open her door and see you. Goodnight, Derek. Good
—
goodbye.
”
Her voice quivered, nearly suspended with tears; he heard them plainly. But even as he reached for her again
—
to comfort her, to argue with her, to steal her from her wretched, greedy family
—
she was gone, her footsteps hurrying lightly down the passage.
He took a deep, rueful breath and blew it out, raking his hair with one hand. That had
not
gone as planned.
His only consolation was that it hadn
’
t gone as
Cynthia
planned, either. Tell him goodbye, indeed! And over money, of all things. He snorted with disgust. If there was one thing his up-and-down life had taught him, it was the treachery of money. People did terrible things to one another in pursuit of it, and for what? Neither love nor health nor luck,
none
of the things that truly enriched a man, could be purchased.
It occurred to him that
Cynthia
, on the other hand, appeared to be for sale. And there was no blinking the fact that
Cynthia
would enrich his life. So perhaps great wealth was desirable after all.
He jammed his hands in his pockets, scowling, and headed moodily for the bedchamber Cummings had assigned him. He had to admit, unpleasant though it was, that if
Cynthia
were truly mercenary he would be better off without her. He was, most would say, a reasonably wealthy man. But there were women for whom no amount of money was sufficient. A woman like that could wreak havoc in a man
’
s life. Even if he won her hand, he might live to regret it. It clearly behooved him, then, to banish her from his dreams.
On the other hand, he had attempted that feat for three years without success. He had firmly believed, then, what he only
feared
was true now, and despite his long-held conviction that
Cynthia
Fitzwilliam was a mercenary jade, he had dreamed of her incessantly. What made him think he could forget her now, if he couldn
’
t then?
She felt something for him, he was sure of that. Whatever her ambitions, however focused she was on her goals, he could certainly distract her. He had demonstrated his power to do so time and again. But should he? Was it wise? In the long run, was he better off standing back and letting her cast out lures to Ellsworth?
He needed more information, he decided. Stronger evidence, in one direction or the other.
Cynthia
seemed to have an odd mixture of priorities vying for dominance: filial duty, attraction to him, and greed.
Seemed,
he thought, because there was something wrong with that picture. He just wasn
’
t sure what it was.
Ah, well. Time would tell. He
’
d sort it all out somehow. He had always considered himself a fortunate chap. People said he had been born under a lucky star, and he was inclined to believe it. Whenever things looked bleakest, somehow fate always intervened on his behalf. He had inherited Crosby Hall against near-impossible odds. Perhaps he would win
Cynthia
, too, and live happily ever after.
Unless, of course, those two things were mutually exclusive. In which case he must trust his lucky star to
prevent
him from winning her, even if he tried. Because it seemed pretty clear that he was going to try, even against his better judgment.
He had to place his faith in something: God, or fate, or lucky stars. He obviously could not trust himself.
The next morning he set out to waylay
Cynthia
again, but something even more pressing reared its head. Natalie did not come down to breakfast.
Derek startled the housemaid carrying breakfast to Lady Malcolm
’
s room by intercepting her in the passage and forcibly wresting the tray from her hands. He reduced her to giggles and blushes with a wink, a grin, and a promise that he would not spill Lady Malcolm
’
s tea, and then carried the tray to his sister with his own hands.
He found her lying listlessly against a welter of pillows. She turned her head when Derek came in and he saw her woebegone expression transform comically into one of pleased dismay.
“O
h, no!
”
she uttered, in tones of despair.
“N
ot you.
”
“Y
es, dear sister, it is I,
”
intoned Derek, bearing the tray into the room and depositing it on a low table beside Natalie
’
s bed.
“I
have come to visit you on your bed of pain.
”
She glowered at him.
“I
t isn
’
t a bed of pain. It
’
s merely a bed of discomfort. Get out, Derek, do! I look hideous.
”
“N
onsense,
”
he said loyally.
“B
uck up, Natalie, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. Everyone tells me you are healthier than you think you are.
”
He hoped to high heaven they were right. She really did look terrible, poor girl. It wasn
’
t just the hugeness of her distended belly; her color wasn
’
t good, and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“M
ove over,
”
he ordered.
“I
want to sit on the bed.
”
“T
here isn
’
t room,
”
she said glumly.
“I’
m enormous. Pull the chair over, if you
must
stay. Gracious, not that one! That
’
s the commode.
”
“N
o. Is it?
”
He stared at it with interest.
“V
ery clever.
”
“I
t
’
s practical, at any rate. I daren
’
t stray too far from it these days. There
’
s a plain chair by the vanity.
”
The vanity chair was small and spindly.
“T
he commode looks more comfortable,
”
he
said
.
“I
told you
you needn
’
t stay.
”
“N
onsense. How else am I to force all this tea down your throat?
”
He hauled the
vanity
chair close to the bed and sat in it, facing her.
“G
ive over, Natalie! If you didn
’
t want me at Oldham Park, you shouldn
’
t have sent me that affecting letter.
”
Her lips twitched.
“I
wanted you near,
”
she admitted.
“B
ut not this near.
”
She eyed the tray with misgiving.
“W
hat is that? Porridge?
”
“G
ruel, I think.
”
He lifted the cover and sniffed the air.
“M
mm.
”
Natalie shuddered and closed her eyes.
“T
ake it away, for pity
’
s sake.
”
“C
areful,
”
he warned her.
“Y
ou
’
ll hurt my feelings in a minute. I
’
m beginning to think you don
’
t want me here.
”
She gave a strangled little laugh and then covered her face with a pillow, emitting a hollow moan.
“I
t
’
s not just you,
”
she said, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.
“I
can
’
t bear for anyone but Malcolm to see me this way.
”
“W
ell, why should Malcolm be the only one to suffer?
”
he aske
d reasonably.
“S
hare the burden, Natalie. Make us all take turns looking at you.
”
As he expected, Natalie removed the pillow from her face and threw it at his head.
“T
hat
’
s better,
”
he said smugly.
“N
ow you
’
re feeling more the thing, eh? And, by the by, where is Malcolm?
”
“I
made him go away. There
’
s nothing anyone can
do
for me. I must simply endure this until it is over. If you wish to feel sorry for someone, feel sorry for Pippa. Malcolm and Sarah are old enough to understand, but poor Pippa thinks I have abandoned her.
”
“S
he
’
ll recover. And so, of course, will you.
”
He picked up a piece of toast and wagged it invitingly at her.
“T
oast? It
’
s well-buttered.
”
“O
h, very well,
”
said Natalie crossly.
“A
lthough, for once, I am not hungry.
”
She took it from him and bit into it without enthusiasm.
“E
xcellent. While you are recruiting your strength, I shall distract you from your misery with a tale.
”