She had quickly noted her new friend’s eyes constantly, if surreptitiously, tracked his movements in whatever room they were in. She could sense the way her companion’s spirits would rise when he joined them, she could almost feel, with the ends of her skin, how Amelia’s interest rose and fell according to his entrances and exits. No, she no longer had any doubt about Lady Burden’s true feelings, nor, sadly enough, about St. John’s lack of either interest in or understanding of them. But she liked her new friend too dearly to ever indicate that she had discovered what, she was sure, was supposedly a secret known only to Amelia’s own heart.
For herself, no matter how solicitous or handsome the Marquis appeared to her admittedly inexperienced eye, she still felt a certain constraint with him, a lingering shyness in her manner. Although they talked together long into the nights, and played cards, and took long walks out about the grounds, she still considered him somewhat withdrawn; that formidable dignity she had at first noted in his manner was still there.
This evening, they sat in the downstairs study, Regina’s favorite room, and played cards. Regina was a wretched player—St. John always laughed and told her she would never win until she learned to cover her delight when she was dealt a fair hand—so tonight, she watched as Amelia and St. John matched wits at the game.
“I shall never understand,” Regina sighed as the game came to an end.
“What shall you never understand, my dear?” St. John laughed, as he folded up his hand and signaled Amelia’s victory. “What possible subject do you find beyond your comprehension?”
“Your friends,” Regina blurted, then, coloring, tried to amend her rash statement. “That is to say, the manners prevailing among them, that is.…
”
“What Regina is struggling with,” Amelia put in with amusement, “is the shock of her meeting the Three Graces this morning.”
St. John threw back his head and laughed, with genuine amusement. “Did she meet them today? Oh, that is a scene I would have given a pretty penny to see. Our resident bluestocking coming up against the Squire’s fair litter.”
Regina blushed at the laughter the other two gave way to. It was true, however, that the morning had brought about her introduction to the three daughters of the local squire. They were pretty enough, in their fashion, she supposed, to have been given the nickname in the locality of “the Three Graces.” But the hours that she had spent in their company had been totally unnerving for her, it was as if she had been forced to spend the morning in the company of Hottentots, so complete was the lack of understanding between them.
The oldest of the girls was engaged to a minor baronet, much to her family’s glee; the middle girl was due to be presented this season, when an attack of measles in the household had curtailed her plans; and the youngest was looking forward to her own season in a year’s time. They had arrived, in a veritable snowstorm of ribboned bonnets and lace and what Amelia had dubbed “fashionable folderols,” by pony cart, accompanied by their silent, timid governess.
And, after being introduced to Regina, they had proceeded to fill the morning with an avalanche of small talk. They could, to Regina’s dumbstruck discovery, talk for hours on end about bonnets, skirt lengths, and slippers. They did, to Regina’s slow and vaguely horrified comprehension, sweetly and thoroughly demolish the reputation and pretensions of every female of their acquaintance, up to and including each other’s. For Miss Betty was heard to softly mention that her sister’s affianced was so delighted with the wedding arrangements that she vowed he had put on two stone just from sheer happiness. Miss Lottie had countered sweetly that Miss Betty was so overjoyed herself at the thought of the forthcoming event, that she had broken out in spots in anticipation of her sister’s forthcoming nuptials. And while Miss Betty’s graceful hands hastily fluttered up to her face to verify her smooth complexion, Miss Kitty had silenced both her sisters by observing, with a charming lisp, that she had indeed noticed how haggard both her elders had become with the excitement of having measles in the household. “I vow,” she had sweetly said, “that they both have lotht their lookth over the thircumthtanthes.”
For Regina, the morning had been both educational and frightening. It accentuated the gap between herself and these young creatures of fashion. For while Amelia seemed quite able to keep up her end of the conversation, Regina had sat close-mouthed, unable to think of a blighting comment on one of their acquaintances, or a trenchant observation about the new fashions, either of which, she was sure, was the only acceptable contribution she could have made to the conversation. She had no way of knowing that her glowing good looks struck a terrible animosity in the hearts of the Three Graces, mitigated only by their desire to learn more about this mysterious visitor to Fairleigh. Already the most bizarre rumors as to her identity had begun to circulate in the vicinity. She had been guessed to be everything from an emigré countess from across the channel, to being that wicked St. John’s new mistress.
When the three young ladies had become aware of the time that had passed, fruitlessly, for their twofold ambitions of discovering more about Lady Berry, or catching a glimpse of the headily handsome and eligible Master of the Household, they had taken their leave. But not before accomplishing the purported main reason for their visit.
“Now that all ith well in our houth,” Miss Kitty had announced, “you mutht come to the ball that Father ith giving. It is thuppothed to mend our hearth for our abthenth from town thith theathon. And jutht everyone will be there. Even my thiththerth beau.”
“You absolutely must come,” the other two had insisted.
“Even though it may seem provincial to you,” Miss Betty had said to Regina, “it shall be quite the affair of the year for us.”
St. John sat laughing at Amelia’s wicked descriptions of the visit and her uncanny imitation of Miss Kitty’s affected lisp, but his face became immobile when she mentioned the invitation to the ball.
“So you see, Sinjin,” Amelia went on blithely, “we are to have a chance to show Regina some real country sport, after all, for I am sure she has never seen the likes of the ball that Squire Hadley is going to give.”
“I have never attended a ball,” Regina said hastily, noting St. John’s suddenly cold demeanor, “for…there were not many of them in our locality,” she finished lamely. “And I do think it would be wiser if I did not go, after all, Amelia.”
“Regina is right,” St. John said coldly, cutting across Amelia’s protestations. “She would feel out of place there, and it would be better if she did not attend.”
“Stuff!” cried Amelia belligerently. “Sinjin, surely you and I could make her feel at ease, and it would be an opportunity she should not miss.”
“Oh no,” Regina said hastily. “For one thing, I haven’t a ball gown, and for another…I don’t wish to shock you, Amelia, but I cannot dance. Not one step. I,” she went on, noting the horrified look on Amelia’s face, “well, that is to say, neither my governess nor my father seemed to ever think that was important.”
“Sinjin,” Amelia protested, “surely you can practice with Regina. Within a day, I’m sure you can teach her enough to account herself creditably at the ball. And I can surely lend her a ball gown.”
“No,” St. John said with a guarded look upon his face. “Not that it wouldn’t be a pleasure, Regina, but you seem to forget that Regina is, in effect, in hiding here. It would not do for her to attend a large ball. Surely her presence would be remarked upon, and just as surely, it would bring Torquay down upon us.”
“But Sinjin,” Amelia went on, puzzled, “you yourself said that even he would not ‘dare to poach upon another gentleman’s property.’”
“No,” he said with suppressed anger, “but let it be, Amelia. There is no reason to stir up the calm we have found here. There is no reason why some paltry local ball should precipitate events that might be disturbing to Regina. At any rate, she will soon be gone from here,” he concluded mysteriously.
Amelia let the subject drop, but it was clear that she was displeased with the turn of events, and shortly after, suppressing what were surely huge mock yawns, she took herself off to bed.
Regina rose to follow, but St. John stayed her with a light touch upon her arm. He stood before her, an unreadable expression in his smoky eyes, and said finally, flicking back a stray wisp of her hair with his forefinger, “Understand, Regina, that I do what is best for you.”
“About the ball? Oh, but that makes no difference to me at all, surely you must know that,” Regina protested, a little nervous at the Marquis’s closer proximity and closer scrutiny. “But what you said later…is it true? Have you received any answer to my letter? Is there any word from Miss Bekins? For although it has been pleasant here, I confess I yearn to be on my way to my new position…before I become too unused to working, before I begin to actually think myself ‘Lady Berry.’”
He smiled. This was a theme she constantly enlarged upon in his presence, her desire to be “her own woman,” to be less beholden to him and his “charity,” as she termed it. He looked down at her, and again was drawn to the clear green eyes, again felt the desire to kiss that small indentation to the left of her lips, again controlled himself against the impulse to hold her to himself and run his hands along the surprisingly ample curves that shaped the slender body. But as he took a step nearer, he could feel her corresponding retreat.
“Not exactly,” he sighed. “But soon, very soon, I have the feeling, Regina, you will be away from here, you will be safe and taken care of, and so pleased with your new life, that you will not regret in the least the lack of your attendance at some trumpery local ball.”
She looked at him in some doubt, for how could he be so sure of something she had not a hint of happening?
“Do you mean,” she asked quietly, “that you have some idea of a different position suitable for me if I do not hear from Miss Bekins?”
“Yes,” he said, his gray eyes darkening. “Oh yes, a much more suitable position…and soon, I think.”
“Then I am again very grateful to you, Sinjin,” she said, and aware again of the strange new tension in his position, she sketched a curtsy and withdrew.
“Soon,” he said to the empty room. “Yes, very soon.” For the time was ripening, he thought. He sat back in a chair and studied the fire. Soon, he would achieve a twofold aim. He would have her under his very real protection, and have Torquay in an unenviable position.
Torquay. He let his thoughts stray to the irritating subject. How very often that hoarse sweet voice had mocked him. How very often he had recoiled when he had heard their names coupled. It was true that he pursued much the same game as the Duke, but something in him rebelled at being dubbed the successor to the title of most debauched nobleman in town. And yet, the time he had gone around to Madame Sylvestre’s establishment when he was in his cups and had found Torquay there, in a gilded doorway, with a bright-eyed, salaciously smiling slender young female at his right side and an overblown garishly painted ageing trollop snuggled protectively on his left side—the Duke’s flushed face and glittering eye left no doubt as to his plans for the evening’s entertainment, and when St. John had allowed a faint derogatory smirk to touch his lips, Torquay had turned and whispered in that obscenely honeyed voice, “What? Distaste, Sinjin? But wait a few years, my dear boy, and you will find yourself pursuing the same sport. Unless you care to join me now? I’m sure Aggie,” and here he hugged the old bawd, “has room in her heart for both of us.”
And St. John thought of his involuntary shudder as he turned away without a word.
He thought of the many times he had professed interest in a new female only to find that days later, she had become the property of the Duke. He remembered how often Torquay had sidled up to him when he was at the height of enjoyment at some of the more disreputable parties and had stripped him of all pleasure by a well-placed word, by an accented innuendo. He winced at the way the Duke, almost intuitively, always knew just how to disconcert him at any occasion. He thought of the immense fortune the Duke controlled and could not seem to dissipate. In all, he thought, if he were to be honest, he both envied and feared the man. Envied his possessions and the skill with which he led his dissolute life. For with all his excesses, he still had entree into all but the most conservative of fashionable circles. But he feared the reputation the Duke held, and the slow, sure way it was beginning to settle upon his own shoulders.
Damn the man, St. John thought. And I shall. For this is one time he has made a wager he shall lose. And I shall win.
IX
The clouds were scudding by overhead, but with no real mean intent, so Regina, having dressed warmly, ventured to take a long walk alone across the wide and various grounds of Fairleigh. She had felt an overwhelming need to be by herself, to walk until her feet numbed, to think, and to finally plan again her own future.
For no, it would not do, she thought, shaking her head as the skirts of her long coat brushed against the long grasses on the meadow track she paced, for her to let herself drift any longer. Things were becoming uncomfortable at the house, and there was a great deal to think about. Amelia was still angry this morning at St. John’s command that Regina was not to attend the ball, and that there was to be no further discussion of the idea. Amelia had tried to cajole Regina into reasoning with the Marquis and impressing upon him what a snub it would be to the Squire if she did not attend, and further, that her noncompliance with the invitation would surely spike more gossip about the mysterious lady at Fairleigh than ever her attendance would. But Regina had remained adamant. After all, she reasoned, she was here only on St. John’s charity, which was a thing that Amelia did not know, and it would not do for her to impose.