The Rebellious Twin (8 page)

“Now that I think of it, of course he knew. No doubt he felt quite safe in allowing his hands to linger that extra moment on my leg.” Strange, how she did not feel the least bit indignant. She supposed she should express her disapproval, though. “That rogue!” How limp that sounded. No doubt Sara Sophia would see right through her pitiful attempt at indignation.

“I can see your anger knows no bounds,” commented her wise friend with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

I was right. “Well, I can’t fool you, can I? I suppose I found him somewhat attractive. In fact” — she hesitated to make such an intimate confession, but Sara Sophia was never shocked by much of anything — “if you must know, I can still feel the warm spot where he clasped me. And I remember, too, there was a fleeting moment when I was lying there on the ground, and he was bending over me, only inches away, and…” Where were the words to explain such a sensual experience?

“Do go on,” Sara Sophia said gently. “What good is a friend if you can’t confide in her?”

“I was suddenly aware of him as a man. He was holding me in his arms. For a moment, all I could think was — now don’t be shocked — I wanted him to kiss me.”

Sara Sophia’s expression grew tender. “I’m not shocked in the least. I think it’s wonderful, and I wish that someday I might feel that way.”

Clarinda continued, “Yesterday at Mama’s tea that silly Agatha was describing him. She said, ‘He positively radiates his masculinity … if you know what I mean’. Well, Agatha knew whereof she spoke. Now I know exactly what she meant.”

“Then you like him.”

“I do, and then I don’t. When all is said and done, he is a dreadful man.”

Sara Sophia looked puzzled. “Why so harsh? I have found him to be most courteous and kind, although” — she heaved a sigh — “I would have wished he hadn’t ridden off on Sham today.”

“Don’t you see that’s part of it?” Clarinda’s expression clouded with anger. “What incredible greed, to take advantage of a defenseless old man well into his dotage. Stormont is no better than a thief, and we had better remember that. At least he has not been invited to the — ” She stopped abruptly, but too late.

“To the ball tonight?” softly asked Sara Sophia. “Why do you blush? How could you think I didn’t know there’s a ball at Graystone Hall tonight when it’s the talk of the countryside?”

“It’s not fair. I did everything in the world to get Mama to invite you, but she simply would not.”

“Say no more.” Sara Sophia regarded her with those clear, observant eyes. “You needn’t fear I’ll be upset, or hurt, because I am not. Long ago, I learned my station in life. Rest assured, I am content.”

Clarinda regarded her skeptically. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t you understand? I am not the least impressed with your Leisure World. It bothers me not one wit that I don’t belong. Oh, of course, I love a good time, but I’m certainly not hurt, nor do I care that I’m ignored and not invited.”

“Still, it’s deucedly unfair, said Clarinda, her cheeks flushed with anger.

“I’m only happy I have a friend like you, and I have Sham to ride — at least I did, and I’ve been able to live at this beautiful estate, run-down though it may be.” Sara Sophia clasped Clarinda’s hand. “I so admire you, Clarinda — your high spirits — your passion for living. I’m so grateful you’re my friend. I find it a true miracle that for some reason you want to spend more time with me than with your twin.”

“My twin,” Clarinda repeated with a disdainful toss of her head. “You wonder why I don’t spend more time with Rissa?”

“I can guess, but you’ve never said.”

“I stay away from Rissa because she’s selfish. No, beyond selfish. Because Rissa always gets her way.”

“But you’re so strong-willed and independent. Why can’t you stand up to her?”

“It’s simple. According to my parents, Rissa is the good twin and I’m the bad.”

“But we know that’s not true!”

Clarinda set her chin in a stubborn line. “Let them think what they wish. I gave up trying to change their minds long ago.”

Riding home, Clarinda kept seeing Lord Stormont’s anxious face as he bent over her. But enough! she told herself. She would put him out of her mind — think of the ball tonight.

Larimore. Her heart sank at the thought. She wished she didn’t have to see him. Why didn’t she break her skull when she fell off Donegal? Or an arm, or leg, or at the very least, sprained an ankle? Then she wouldn’t have to attend the ball tonight.

Alas, she hadn’t been that lucky.

*

When Clarinda arrived home, she found Mama and the seamstress in Rissa’s bed chamber. They were putting final touches on Rissa’s ball gown as she stood admiring herself before her full length gilt mirror.

“Where have you been, Clarinda?” asked Lady Capelle.

Mama knew full well where she’d been. “Out riding, Mama, as I do every morning.”

Mama glanced at her suspiciously. “I trust you didn’t visit Sara Sophia.”

Before she could answer, Rissa inadvertently saved her. “Oh, Clarinda! You’ve a scratch on your forehead, up near your hairline.”

“Damnation, I forgot. She should have checked herself in the mirror first. “‘Tis nothing. I just had a little tumble from my horse.”

Mama scowled, a not uncommon reaction at any mention of Clarinda’s passion for riding. “Did Donegal stumble?”

“Donegal never stumbles. It was Lord Stormont’s hunter who ran across the meadow and — “

“Lord Stormont!” Mama’s eyes instantly lit with interest. “Do you mean to say he’s here?”

“He’s come to inspect his new property. Such a horrid man. I cannot abide the way he stole Hollyridge from Lord Westerlynn.”

“Horrid?” Mama stared at her aghast. “No man is horrid who’s unmarried, titled, and has an income in excess of twenty thousand pounds per year.”

Rissa, who had been intent on regarding herself in the mirror, clasped her hands. “How exciting! We must invite him to the ball.”

Mama nodded. “Indeed, we shall. Stormont has twice the fortune of the Suftons.”

Estelle spoke up. “He’s brought a friend along, m’lady. Lucius, Lord Wentridge.”

“Uncanny, how the servants know everything first,” acidly observed Lady Capelle. “Then we shall invite Lord Wentridge, too.”

Clarinda was disgusted with herself. Why did she have to mention Lord Stormont? Now he was invited to the ball. That made two men, each in his own way detestable, that she must deal with tonight.

“You look splendid, Robert. The ladies will swoon at the sight of you.”

“Let us hope not, Lucius,” Robert answered fervently. The invitation to the ball at Graystone Hall had arrived. It was fortunate his valet had seen fit to bring along his double-breasted wool frock coat with the claw-hammer tails, silk twill breeches, waistcoat and shirt with chitterlings, and a stock. In the entry hall of Hollyridge Manor, Robert pulled on buff kid gloves and offhandedly remarked, “Stay as late as you like, but I expect I’ll be bored by ten o’clock and shall slip out early.”

“Such enthusiasm,” remarked Lucius, equally resplendent in a blue coat decorated with flat gilt buttons and black velvet collar. “Rustic, these country balls, yet they can be quite amusing.”

“Lady Capelle’s invitation was hardly one I could refuse,” answered Robert, “but I lost my enthusiasm for balls long ago, whether city, country, or otherwise.”

Robert expected his contentious friend to continue their sparring, but it appeared Lucius had another subject on his mind. Looking perplexed, he remarked, “I cannot understand why Sara Sophia was not invited.”

Robert shrugged. “That’s easy, she’s not one of the ton.”

Lucius let out a snort. “Those stiff-rumps in London won’t settle for less than society’s finest. But here? The guest lists at these country balls are not nearly as rigid.”

“Hmm … I do believe you’ve taken a liking to the little wren.”

Lucius immediately bristled. “Don’t be absurd. I hardly know the girl, although we did engage in a pleasant chat this afternoon.”

“A chat?” Robert asked skeptically. “You spent almost the entire day with her, and don’t tell me otherwise.”

Lucius seemed about to deny the accusation, then thought better of it. “Though she may look it, Sara Sophia is not an insignificant little wren,” he replied with feeling. “Never have I met a more perceptive, intelligent woman. Her interests know no bounds. Not only that, she has a sense of herself and her place in this universe. I’d wager she’s smarter by half than most of these country bumpkins.”

Robert gave him a look. “All London knows your penchant for intelligent women, Lucius. Flirtatious eyes and creamy white bosoms mean nothing to a high-minded gentleman such as you.”

“Laugh if you wish, Robert, I — ” Lucius suddenly bit his lip and looked away, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

Robert was surprised to see his cynical friend, a master at covering his feelings, reveal such deep concern over anything besides his own well-being. “I see it’s not a laughing matter. But you know as well as I, a chit like Sara Sophia could not possibly — “

“Be good enough for me?” Lucius heaved what came close to a despairing sigh. “I know that. I accept that.” A touch of bitterness echoed in his voice as he continued, “I have no idea why I should bother even speaking to a creature so low-born.”

Robert started to protest, but Lucius wasn’t through. “You’re the smart one. Who would ever catch you being so impractical as to fall in love?”

“Quite so,” agreed Robert, “I have much better sense, as do you, Lucius, if you’ll take the time to reflect on how utterly impossible ‘twould be for you to fall in love with a common girl with no money and no standing. Shall we go? I’ve ordered Sham and one of the thoroughbreds saddled.”

“Very well,” Lucius said, resigned. “At least we’ll see the twins. There’s a spectacle for you. I have never seen two human beings so exactly alike as those Capelle chits. Clarissa and Clarinda,” he repeated with amusement, “even their parents can’t tell them apart.”

On their way out the door, the image of a slender young girl streaking across the field on her strong Irish Hunter flashed, once again, through Robert’s mind. The image had haunted him all day. Try as he might, he could not get rid of it. So she was a twin, not to be distinguished from her sister? I think not, thought Robert as he swung upon Sham and steadied the eager animal. There was only one Lady Clarinda Capelle. He would always know who she was.

*

“Just look at us, Clarinda! No one will be as fashionable as us tonight. We shall be the envy of the countryside.”

Rissa, who had just dragged Clarinda in front of her mirror, stood next to her, gazing at herself in delight. “Don’t we look darling?”

“Darling is hardly the word,” Clarinda glumly responded, although she had to admit they did not look half bad in identical high-waisted gowns of soft white crape, ornamented with silver, elegantly embroidered around the slashed sleeves and the hem with a rich border of gold and silver.

Rissa plucked at the ringlets on her forehead. “Estelle, you must pull these down a mite farther, just like Clarinda’s since she must cover up her scratch. Tonight we must look exactly alike.”

Clarinda was tempted to voice her disgust, but refrained. The dress was lovely, she had to admit, and Estelle had done a marvelous job dressing their hair in the antique Roman style, bringing their longer tresses together and confined at the back of their heads, terminating in ringlets held by a clasp of pearls. They carried fans of mother of pearl and wore pearl necklaces — no gold “C” tonight — pearl earrings to match, white kid shoes and white gloves.

If I were alone, I should enjoy looking like this, Clarinda thought. But she was not alone, she was only a duplicate.

Mama, dressed in elegant amber crape over white sarsinet, popped in, took a long, critical look and nodded approval. “You’ll do. Estelle, you have done an excellent job of making them look as alike as…”

“Don’t say it, Mama,” Clarinda warned. If she heard two peas in a pod again…

“Don’t be a goose, Clarinda.” Mama’s usually down-curved mouth actually turned up into a smile. “The Lords Sufton have already arrived, as has half the countryside, and that includes Lord Stormont and his friend, Lord Wentridge. It’s nearly time for your grand entrance. Now be sure to walk in unison as you go down the stairs. Hold your fans the same. Try to smile the same, you’ll create a sensation. Lady Constance Lynbury has arrived. Be nice. You know the spiteful on-dit she could spread if your deportment is less than totally correct. Lord Cranmer is here. Mind you don’t find yourself in a dark corner with him — you know what they say. Remember, Rissa, you are to devote your attention to Lawrence, whereas, Clarinda it is your duty to pay special attention to Larimore. Give him all your dances, unless, of course, Lord Stormont shows an interest, which, bearing in mind that Lord Stormont has twice the income of the Lords Sufton, then you must…”

Tired, tired, tired — I am so very tired of this. Clarinda had ceased to listen. This was going to be a horrible night. In the past, she hadn’t minded the London Seasons. True, she had to dress like Rissa, but at least she could pick and chose the men she wished to dance with. Those days were over. Chances were she would betroth herself tonight to a man she didn’t, and could never, love. Think of Donegal, she told herself, and all the beautiful horses in the world. That was the only way she could keep her sanity and get through this debacle.

Soon, abiding by her mother’s request, Clarinda dutifully began a graceful sweep down the main staircase in synchronized step with her sister, their fans held at precisely the same angle. As for the smiles, Mama should be grateful she could manage a tiny upward curve of her lips, let alone match Rissa’s dazzling effort. Below, she could see arriving guests milling about the main entry hall, most of them looking upward to watch The Grand Entrance of the Twins. I shall be so glad when this is over. She was half way down the stairs when one particular pair of dark brown, nearly black eyes caught her attention — the eyes of Robert, Lord Stormont.

He was standing in a casual stance looking up at her in a manner both sharp and assessing. He briefly nodded and half smiled. She started to nod back, but then wondered whom was he nodding at — her or Rissa? In fact, how did he know which twin he was smiling at? And further, was his nod one of recognition or was he simply smiling at the freakish, ridiculous spectacle of two adult human beings striving to look exactly alike? She decided not to grant him a smile after all, but instead, turned her attention to the Lords Sufton who stood at the bottom of the staircase looking up at them. Both were identically attired in dark, double-breasted frock coats, breeches, dark stockings, and soft leather pumps. She was continually astounded they always dressed alike, even though they weren’t compelled to. Good grief, even their cravats were tied exactly the same!