Anne Barbour (24 page)

During his brief tenure at Selworth, Simon had met many but not all of the persons soon gathered in drawing rooms and saloons, thus for the rest of the afternoon he was kept occupied with his chores as host. Most of the guests eventually drifted upstairs to their assigned chambers to rest and refresh themselves before it was time to dress for dinner. When the gong sounded, Simon was still making polite conversation with the earl and Squire Beresford and young Mister Kent, who owned a sizeable property some fifteen miles distant.

“You can relax now,” said Diana to Jane as the two ascended the staircase to ready themselves for dinner. “Your preparations are complete, and all you need do now is enjoy the day.”

Jane smiled. “As you no doubt do when Stonefield Court is full of company.”

Diana’s eyes twinkled. “Of course not. I am always tense as a drumhead when we have guests, making sure all is well until the last one has disappeared over the horizon. I was merely passing on the excellent advice that Aunt Amabelle and our housekeeper, Mrs. Ingersoll, always press on me during such occasions. What are you wearing this evening?” she asked nonchalantly.

“Oh, my midnight blue satin—the one with the acorns embroidered in silver. I wore it a few nights after your arrival, when we went to the Selwyns’ dinner party.”

“Oh, yes, I remember it. Excellent! That is, it’s terribly becoming to you—the silver seems to be reflected in your hair and it makes your eyes all deep and mysterious.”

“Why, thank you,” said Jane, somewhat startled.

“Umm,” added Diana. “The thing is, I know how hard it is to find a color that goes well with gray eyes. I’ve always felt that mine are perfectly colorless, but Jared seems to like them—fortunately.” She stopped rather self-consciously. “That is, of course— why there’s Winifred!” she cried in apparent relief. “Where on earth has the girl been all this time?”

Jane glanced swiftly in the direction indicated by Diana to observe Winifred entering the hall from the corridor that led to the courtyard and the back of the house.

“I don’t know,” she replied grimly, “but I am about to find out.”

She turned away from Diana and hurried down the stairs to where Winifred stood, her violet eyes sparkling with mischief, in easy conversation with Reverend and Mrs. Mycombe.

“Winifred,” she called in a deliberately casual tone, “may I have a word with you?”

Smiling, Winifred excused herself from the vicar and from Sir James who came in at that moment from the front of the house, an odd smile curving his thin mouth.

Grasping the girl’s arm, Jane gave her a surreptitious pinch as she led her up the stairs. “Where have you been?” she exclaimed in an exasperated whisper. “You’re the daughter of the house, for pity’s sake. You’re supposed to be on hand to greet people when they arrive, particularly on a day we’ve been planning for so long. What on earth kept you?”

Winifred’s glance, though still containing shreds of impish laughter, was mildly surprised. “But you and Lady Teague and Simon were here. I still have some things to do in preparation for this evening, you know. The costumes were in disorder, and .. .”

“Oh, never mind,” snapped Jane. “You’re here now. For heaven’s sake stay put and be charming. I’ve placed you next to Squire Pemberton at the dinner.”

“That old stick? Jane, how could you? He’s the most boring man in this county and several adjoining ones besides.”

Jane’s eyes glittered dangerously. “Since,” she said through clenched teeth, “you declined to participate in plans for the seating arrangements, I placed you where I thought you would do the most good. You will find Mister Kent on your other side, and you will probably get no conversation from him either, as he is always so dazzled in your presence that he becomes completely tongue-tied.”

They had by now reached the top of the stairs, and without giving Winifred time to respond, she gave the girl a little push toward her bedchamber, then hurried off to her own.

To Jane’s vast relief, dinner went off without a hitch, and the smile on her lips remained fixed as Winifred graciously accepted the many compliments on its excellence. If some of the household members seemed inordinately preoccupied, the guests were too polite to take note, and after the meal, Winifred stood to announce that the play would begin in an hour and a half.

She made as though to leave the room, but Simon was before her.

“I must see you, Winifred,” he stated baldly.

“All right,” she replied composedly. “We can talk in the morning.”

“No,” he said, his tone uncompromising. “We will talk now. It will only take a few minutes.”

Winifred opened her mouth to protest this high-handed behavior on the part of one whom she had come to think of as one of her conquered, but closed it immediately on observing the expression in his eyes. Meekly, she followed her guardian from the room.

“The actors are at hand: and, by their show, You shall know all that you are like to know.”
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream,
V, i.

Simon carefully closed the door of his study, and, moving to his chair behind the desk, he gestured Winifred to the one opposite. He could not help contrasting her at that moment with Jane, who had sat in that same place so many times, brangling with him over the management of those persons she held dear. There was no question that Winifred was by far the more beautiful but, he mused, almost smiling, what man in his right mind would chose a goddess over an enchanting wood sprite?

The deity sat watching him in silent expectancy, her amethyst eyes wide and impenetrable. He drew a deep breath. “Winifred, you have been put in possession of the facts of Wilfred’s bequest to me.”

An odd expression crossed Winifred’s face, of startlement blended with relief. “Yes,” she said, the word more a question than a statement.

“However, there was one pertinent piece of information that was kept from you, at my request.”

This time Winifred merely lifted her brows warily, but as Simon began his explanation of Wilfred’s last plea, and the arrangement into which he had coerced Simon, her expression grew incredulous.

“Marry you!” she said some minutes later as he finished his tale. “But—but, that’s impossible!”

“I’m afraid not,” Simon said heavily. “Not according to the provisions of your brother’s will. I went over it—more than once—with Mr. Soapes, Wilfred’s agent, and he said the thing is absolutely airtight.”

Simon paused and shot Winifred a shrewd look. “Now, while I hope you will not take offense, I have no wish to marry you, my feelings for you being no more than what is proper between a guardian and his ward. I believe it is also true that you have no desire to marry me.”

“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “As a matter of—

“Unfortunately,” continued Simon, “the fact remains that since you have received no other proposal of marriage, I am obliged to offer for you myself.” He was now perspiring rather profusely and pulled a handkerchief from his waistcoat to draw over his forehead.

“But, that’s impossible—” began Winifred again, only to be silenced once more.

“I know this has come as a shock to you, my dear, and I suppose I should have told you earlier what was to come, but I kept hoping—that is, I thought... Well, never mind what I thought. The thing is, I may have a way out of our difficulty.”

This time Winifred said nothing, merely staring at him in disbelief.

“What I propose is this. I am, as of this moment, requesting your hand in marriage, but . . .” He took a deep breath as Winifred’s mouth opened. “But, if you choose to refuse my offer, I shall give you the option of remaining at Selworth as long as you like, with the complete income of the estate to supplement your own inheritance, or I shall sell the place at the earliest opportunity and give you the profits.”

When, after a long moment, Winifred still said nothing, continuing to gape at him blankly, Simon went on in some desperation. “I know you would be better off with a husband, but there is nothing to say you cannot have one later on.” He paused, realizing he sounded like a doting parent promising his offspring a toy. “What I mean to say is, I shall still be your guardian until you do marry, or turn six and twenty, whichever comes first. But I would endeavor to interfere in your life as little as possible beyond hiring a companion for you—perhaps two. Do you think—?” He stopped as Winifred lifted a hand.

“What you’re saying,” she began slowly, “is that you are offering to marry me, but if I refuse, you will pay me a great deal of money—one way or the other.”

“Well—yes, that’s pretty much it. If you need some time to think it over . . .”

“No,” The word was uttered with calm certainty. “I will accept your offer. No, no,” she added quickly, as Simon turned pale, “I mean the one about you giving me money.”

“Oh.” Simon almost sagged with relief. He straightened almost immediately and rose from behind the desk, and was at once overcome by a feeling of compunction. “Are you sure?” he asked, listening with dread to his own words. “You are very young, and I do not wish to take advantage of you.”

“Oh, no,” she said coolly, “I shouldn’t think you could do that. In any event, you are my guardian, and I shall, of course, be guided by your counsel. When must I decide whether I wish to live off the income from Selworth or whether I wish you to sell the estate?”

Her self-possession startled him. “We have plenty of time for that. We should sit down with Mr. Soapes and ask his advice. In fact, I shall have to go over all this with Soapes, anyway,” he said thoughtfully, “but I cannot see where he would have any objection. He will remain as your man of affairs and will always see to your interests. In the meantime, may I say, Miss Timburton, and I hope you will not take offense, but you have made me a very happy man.”

Winifred rose and faced him, a mysterious smile on her lips reminiscent of certain very ancient Greek statues he had seen at the British Museum. She said nothing, but after a moment, laughed her silvery laugh, and ran lightly from the room.

Simon slumped against the desk, a dazed smile on his face. The next moment, he moved to the center of the room where, laughing aloud, he danced an impromptu jig. His exultation grew. He was free! Free to seek out his love and make her his own. If all continued to go well, that is.

He hurried from the room, but was again unsuccessful in his quest. Jane, it appeared was nowhere in the house. At last, as he made his way through the hall, a footman pointed through the open front door.

“Don’t know where she was headed, my lord. The ornamental water, perhaps. It’s pretty this time of evening.”

Thanking the young man, Simon stepped out into the gathering dusk. The night smelled of paradise, he thought. The scent of roses was heavy on the air, mingled with softer fragrances from the gardens and fields beyond. A swollen moon was rising, turning lawns and hedges to silver, and in the sky one, solitary star glittered like a jewel above the trees.

Simon turned his footsteps toward the water, and stood still when he saw her, seated on a rock, gazing into the pool. She had changed into her costume and, bathed in the luminescence of the moonlight, looked wholly a creature of the night. He had almost reached her when she turned to face him. He heard the startled intake of her breath as she rose to move toward him. The folds of her muslin tunic stirred in the light evening breeze and pressed provocatively against her body as she walked up the incline from the lake.

She said nothing as she approached him, but Simon was intensely aware of the almost tangible electricity that swirled between them. Her eyes did not reflect the moonlight, but were dark and mysterious and impenetrable.

“Jane,” he whispered, and almost before the word had dropped from his lips, she was in his arms, fragrant and supple and infinitely desirable. Their mouths met and clung in a kiss that was hungry and seeking, yet almost unbearably sweet. Her enticing curves and hollows seemed to be perfectly designed to fit against him, and the feel of her under his hands created swirls of pleasure in him that were eminently satisfying, even as they created a fierce wanting.

“Jane,” he said, almost groaning. “Oh, my God, Jane.”

She drew back a little to look at him, a faint, sad smile on her lips.

“I have something to tell you, Jane.” He sensed the tension that suddenly filled her slight frame and continued hastily. “This afternoon—”

“Janie! Jane, are you out there?”

It was Gerard, and Simon knew an urge to turn and strangle the young man.

“It’s time to assemble with the others,” the young man said breathlessly as he approached them. “Curtain in less than half an hour. Have you seen my tunic? It’s supposed to be with Bottom’s and the other clowns, but—”

Jane shot a glance at Simon, but spoke soothingly to her brother. “It’s all right, Gerard. Aunt Amabelle noticed a tear in it this afternoon and took it to her chambers to mend it. She is probably looking for you with it right now.”

“All right,” said Gerard, still apparently in need of mollifying, for he grasped her arm and began pulling her toward the house. “But, you know, I’m supposed to stand in readiness to hand Marc his Oberon outfit as soon as he comes offstage from being Lysander, and I can’t find the dam—dashed crown.”

“Oh dear,” said Jane. “Well, perhaps Winifred moved it. I saw her rearranging things earlier.”

Her hand still lay in Simon’s grasp, but when his fingers tightened on hers, she glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. Gently, she disengaged herself and allowed Gerard to hurry her toward the south lawn, where the players were gathering for the performance.

Simon swore softly under his breath. What the devil—? Jane must have sensed he was about to make a declaration. She had returned his kiss fervently. Surely that meant she felt something for him. What the devil! he thought again, unhappily.

Mindlessly, Jane trailed in Gerard’s wake. She felt adrift in a sea of frustrated emotion. Dear God, she should not have allowed Simon to kiss her just then. And she most certainly should not have kissed him back. He had started to say something about this afternoon. Was he already betrothed to Winifred? No, surely he would not have come in search of her after a proposal to another woman. Still, no announcement had been made. Despite herself, her heart rose. Perhaps Simon had decided against offering for Winifred. As she turned this idea around blissfully in her mind, her heart reversed course. No, Simon was a man of honor. She must not chase rainbows.