A Fallen Woman (11 page)

Really,
for a time she had teetered on becoming a character in one of Mrs.
Radcliffe’s books, the kind of creature who was inclined to suffer
from the vapors and took to her couch. And that would never have
done, not for a girl who had always thoroughly enjoyed life. She
had learned to enjoy life again, although the pleasures were more
modest now, if not less satisfying. There would be nieces and
nephews she could spoil (unfortunately it did not seem she would be
allowed to be an indulgent aunt to James and Charity’s brood as
Charity rarely let her two precious lambs socialize with her
husband’s family), new horizons in the form of travel and a dozen
trivial pleasures to enjoy.

Her mood of
introspection was interrupted by a soft knock on the door, followed
almost immediately by her mother.

Rachel
smiled a greeting. ‘Good morning, Mama. You’re up and about
early.’

The reference was more to
do with the fact that her mother was
dressed, as opposed to still being clad in her wrapper. With guests
in the house, Lady Sheridan would not have ventured out looking
anything less than respectable, even if it was half past seven in
the morning.

‘
Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?’

‘Very
well, thank you.’ That was not entirely true, as Rachel’s sleep had
been troubled by uncomfortable dreams, but there was no need to
tell her mother so. Margaret Sheridan had been a charming hostess
the previous evening but she was also very perceptive and would
have been keeping a close eye on her eldest daughter.

‘
You were very animated last night, my love,’ her ladyship
observed, dropping into a chair opposite her daughter.

‘Was I?’ Rachel inquired vaguely, reflecting that her
rather frantic conversation with Worsley may have looked a
little
peculiar.

‘
Indeed. How did you find the evening?’

Obviously her
mother had noticed something odd about her behavior. Rachel
considered her reply cautiously. ‘Charity was in good form.’

Lady
Sheridan wrinkled her nose a little. ‘Charity can be very tiresome.
I hope that she will improve every time she visits but I fear that
may never happen.’

‘We all hope
the same thing, Mama, and are always disappointed,’ Rachel
agreed dryly. ‘But you need not trouble yourself. I regard Charity
in the nature of a dowager hump – a trial that must be born with
stoicism, if not enthusiasm.’

Her
mother’s lips twitched at this. ‘That is certainly one way of
looking at it.’ She gave Rachel an appraising look. ‘Is there
something between you and Lord Worsley, my dear?’

Rachel was
startled by the question. ‘Something between us? Good heavens no.
What makes you say that?’

‘Well I might be mistaken but you both looked rather
tense
last
night.’

Oh dear. Rachel
wondered if anybody else had noticed how ‘tense’ her conversation
with Worsley had been. It would not do to have her mother concerned
over her relationship with the earl, not when she already had a
dozen other things to concern her. ‘It was a little awkward,
perhaps. We did not part on the best of terms, last time we saw
each other. I thought that if I engaged him in conversation it
might ease the tension a little. I had not realized he was Adam’s
best friend. It would be a pity if Worsley and I did not get
along.’

‘
I suppose that is true,’ her mother agreed. ‘I very much fear
that you will experience an uncomfortable day, my love. It has been
some time since we have entertained at Thorncroft.’

‘It is
high time we did,’ Rachel returned firmly. She might be dreading
the evening ahead but she had no intention of admitting it.
‘Perhaps this will be a new beginning for us. I daresay people will
grow used to seeing me again and perhaps, in time…’ she trailed
off, uncertain of how to end the sentence. Perhaps what? That if
the local gentry looked at her for long enough, they would forgive
her the past? As if it was theirs to forgive. The only people whose
good opinion she wanted or needed was that of her family. She
smiled at her mother. ‘It will be all right. You cannot expect
others to treat me with the same understanding that you and Papa
have. I don’t expect them to. But we do need to move on and prepare
the way for Liza. Charlotte will be settled somewhere else, it is
true, but you have one daughter left to launch.’

‘That is
true,’ her ladyship sighed. ‘Although never have I met a girl who
is so disinclined to care about such things. Truthfully, Liza would
cheerfully wish our neighbors to the ends of the earth. I cannot
imagine how your father and I produced such a contrary
creature.’

‘She will be
all right. Liza knows how to behave,’ Rachel assured her
mother with complete confidence. If the Sheridans could weather a
scandal like hers, there would be little Liza could do to disturb
her family’s composure.

Lady Sheridan
rose to her feet. ‘I had best go and see to Charlotte. I am sure
she is awake by now. Are you sure…?’

‘Stop
worrying. I shall survive tonight and whatever nights lie ahead. Go
and soothe the bride to be. She should be quivering with nerves.’
But probably was not. Charlotte Sheridan was looking ahead with
considerable enthusiasm to her new life, of that Rachel had no
doubt, but she would be doing so with the usual calm that
characterized most of her behavior.

Once her mother was gone, she reluctantly turned her
thoughts back to Worsley, more because he refused to stay out of
them
than
because she had any real desire to continue thinking of the man.
She recalled the chill in his fine grey eyes and frowned a little.
As disconcerting as it was to have him at Thorncroft – and in such
an unfortunate state of mind – she had to confess to being
surprised at the changes three short years had wrought. He looked
quite different from the fresh faced creature who had taken pains
to secure a dance with her. While his lordship had always been a
good-looking fellow, there had been a wholesomeness about him that
had spoken of the quintessential country gentleman; fresh air,
horses and dogs by the fire. And while he’d had no difficulty
squiring her around a dance floor with competent efficiency, it had
been all too easy to picture him in riding clothes; the well cut
evening apparel had seemed to sit on his tall form a little
uncomfortably, as if he were not quite used to it. Apparently he
had grown used to it now, for there had been an easy self-assurance
in his manner that suggested the man had grown into his position.
Whatever had occurred to the earl on the Continent had undoubtedly
matured him. It was unfortunate his new found maturity had not
given him the wisdom of kindness and compassion, but they were
qualities unfamiliar to many members of the
ton
. The new Worsley was even more of a
stranger than he had been and she had to admit that she missed the
shy, youthful suitor. He had had a great deal to recommend him,
from his gentle good manners to his sudden forays into humor that
had been vastly enjoyable, all the more in that they were
unexpected.

Now there
was something far more... Rachel searched for the right word that
might describe the man she had observed the previous day and came
up with some odd choices.

Dark.

Intense.

Brooding.

Yes, she thought, with some
surprise. There was something darker and
more jaded about the earl, as if his experiences had tested him,
forging a harder blade. He had certainly had his attractions when
she had first met him and she had been sure some lucky young lady
would snap him up in short order (although in truth he could have
had the countenance of a potato and the personality of a wet squib
and he would still have been considered one of the most eligible
men in England – he was Worsley, after all). His appeal was of a
different kind now. The engaging, puppyish youth was gone, replaced
by a harder version who carried an air of weary watchfulness about
like an invisible cloak.

Three and a half years was a long time, of
course
, but
it seemed that the earl had experienced a great many things in that
time. It was the only explanation for that shift in attitude. She
wondered what Adam thought of the new Worsley. Not that she
supposed she could ask his opinion. The less interested she
appeared in the man the better it would be. Still, Rachel felt a
pang of real regret. Worsley had been that rarest of men; modest,
considerate and kind. All unusual attributes in a man of his
standing but charming, nevertheless.

No matter
what her thoughts on the subject of the old and new
versions of the man… what she
really
needed was a strategy to deal with him. She had
allowed her anger to override more cautious considerations the
evening before, but in retrospect, ignoring each other for the
length of his stay at Thorncroft might be the most sensible thing
to do. Worsley had said what he had to say, she had persecuted him
the evening before. Perhaps they could call themselves even and
spend the rest of his visit in a state of mutual disregard. All
they needed to do to achieve a happy equilibrium was to avoid each
other – easy enough as he had made it plain that he had no desire
to spend time with
her
–
while they waited for this visit to end.

It would all be over soon enough; the wedding, the
celebration
s
and the unfamiliar foray into socializing. Then her life would
subside slowly back into the quiet pattern that she was so familiar
with. Nothing would change, not for Rachel, no matter how many
parties her parents decided to host.

All she could
hope for was a quiet, predictable life.

For creatures such as herself
, there could be nothing else. Indeed, for
creatures such as herself there was usually a great deal worse.
Until yesterday morning, she had been entirely cheerful at the
prospect of living the rest of her life in the shadows but it
seemed that Worsley’s words had triggered something within her. The
kind of desolation he had spoken of touched her and she stirred
uneasily, even though she knew that her family would never turn
their backs on her.

Even so…

Is this really my life? Never again having the respect of a
decent man or having the opportunity of a family? I thought I would
have children and… and my own household and
the love of a good man. What
will happen to me when Mama and Papa have gone?

It would be all too ea
sy to sink into melancholy in the face of such a
grey future…

Rachel
sat up abruptly and blinked. She was shocked and appalled
by the maudlin direction her thoughts were taking. She hadn’t
allowed herself such self-pitying nonsense for years and yet here
she was, feeling sorry for herself. As if she had anything to feel
sorry about! A fresh surge of resentment eddied through her.
Worsley had prompted this, curse him! He had made her reflect anew
on her life with his harsh words, painting a picture of desolation
where there wasn’t one.

‘Just remember how fortunate you are, my girl,’ she
snapped. ‘You cannot let some narrow minded peer make you feel so
bad about yourself that you hide away in your room.
You
know what happened
with Dorian Salinger.
He
does not. You have cried a river of tears over this and you
will not do so again. Not because of Worsley!’

Determined to put such nonsense out of her
mind
, Rachel
rose to her feet and considered the day ahead. Her course of action
was clear. She would not seek Worsley out again, but neither would
she hide from him. He might think she lived a tragic life but she
would show him differently. And tonight, when Thorncroft was once
again buzzing with music and laughter, she would step out of the
shadows with her chin high and let the world – and the
9
^th
Earl of Worsley – know that she was not some poor figure of
tragedy, but one who had every intention of enjoying whatever
portion of her life had been left to her.

Rachel rang for her maid, intent on starting the day as she
intended to finish it; full of confidence and determination.
She’d had three
years to work on perfecting her composure and she was going to show
everyone that she was ready to start living again.

Particularly
Nash Guthrie, Earl of Worsley, who would leave Thorncroft
with the understanding that his opinion of her mattered not a jot.
She would show him differently if it was the last thing she
did!

Chapter
Six

It may have been some comfort to Nash to know that Miss
Sheridan had determined that the best course of action was to avoid
him, for he certainly did not wish to spend any more time in her
company than he must. He was having more than enough difficulty
keeping his every thought from the wretched girl, especially as he
had found himself
almost… well,
enjoying
their exchange the night before. In all of his
dreams of Rachel, he had focused more on her beauty than her
intellect and had forgotten how very quick-witted she was or how
engaging her conversation could be. Her humor had stirred his own
to life and, despite his best intentions – or worst, he supposed
for malice could not ever be considered a virtuous emotion – he had
found himself engaging with her, exchanging quips and sallies, as
if three and a half years of anguish did not lay between
them.