Taste of Temptation (34 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Holt

Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction

BOOK: Taste of Temptation
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She appeared brittle, as if she was frozen on the inside. The sparkle in her eye was gone. The smile on her lips had vanished.
He’d simply been trying to do what was right for everyone concerned, but he hadn’t a clue how to convince her, how to make her love him again.
Feeling bereft, as if his heart was broken, he spun and left.
 
 
“TRISTAN! Tristan!”
Rose flew out the front door of the manor to see him fussing with the stirrup on his saddle. Michael was with him, already mounted and about to ride away. At her frantic cry, Tristan whipped around.
“Rose? What is it? What’s wrong?”
She ran to him.
“You’re leaving,” she accused. “Why?”
“I have to go to Scotland.”
“Without saying good-bye?”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Tristan claimed, “and I completely forgot”
“I want to know what’s happening,” she demanded. “I’m not a child, so don’t treat me like one.”
Tristan glanced at Michael, and they exchanged a look that Rose couldn’t decipher.
“We have business in Scotland,” Michael said. “It’s important, so we have to deal with it immediately.”
“You are such a liar,” Rose charged. “The servants were talking. You did something horrid to Jane Hamilton.”
“They’re mistaken, Rose,” Michael contended. “I didn’t do anything to Jane. I like her very much.”
Rose turned her furious attention to Tristan. “Miss Hamilton has been fired, hasn’t she?”
Michael glowered at Tristan. “How interesting that you didn’t bother to mention it”
“She hasn’t been fired,” Tristan maintained. “She’s just... just...” On the spur of the moment, he couldn’t devise a suitable fabrication. “I’ll explain when I get back.”
“Explain it now!” Rose commanded.
“There’s no time, Rose.”
“She’s the best governess I’ve ever had. There’s no reason for her to lose her job.”
“She hasn’t.”
“If she goes, Amelia will have to go, too. The maids are in Amelia’s room. They’re packing her bags!”
“She and her sister will ... ah ... be in London,” Tristan asserted. “You’ll see her again very soon.”
“Swear it to me!”
Tristan hesitated, his vacillation providing all the information she needed. He prided himself on his honor, and he would never offer a vow that wasn’t true.
He came over to her, and he rested a hand on her shoulder, as if the paltry gesture would make things better.
“There’s been some trouble,” he admitted.
“What is it? Maybe I can fix it for you.”
“It’s adult trouble. It wouldn’t be appropriate to discuss it with you.”
Rose peered up at Michael, and from his sheepish expression, she realized that the servants’ gossip was correct. Michael had committed a terrible deed, but she and Amelia would suffer for it.
“They’re packing Amelia’s bags,” she repeated.
“I know.” Tristan seemed embarrassed by the fact.
“I’ll never see her again, will I? You’re making her go, and I’ll never see her.”
“Rose, let me—”
“She’s the only friend I ever had!” Rose shouted, shoving him away. “You may not take her from me! I forbid it!”
She wished she were a man, that she was bigger and taller, that she could force him to listen, that she could force him to do what she said.
Tristan sighed. “It’s not up to you, Rose. If there were any other way ...”
“I’ll be alone with Maud and Miriam.”
“Just for a while. I’ll hurry home as fast as I can.”
“When you first arrived, you told me you’d always be here—till I was a grown-up. You’re not coming back, are you?”
“Of course I am. Why would you say such a thing?”
“What about Michael? When will he be back?”
“He’ll be away a bit longer than me,” Tristan hedged.
“How long is that?”
Tristan didn’t reply. Instead, he said to Michael, “Let me get her in the house.”
As if she were a baby, he tried to push her toward the door, but she wrestled out of his grasp.
She gazed at Michael. “Don’t allow him to do this,” she begged. “Order him to let Amelia stay with me. I’ll die if she goes!”
“It’s not up to me,” Michael asserted.
“You can stop him. You’re the earl”—she pointed at Tristan—“and who is he? He’s no one, that’s who! He came here where he wasn’t wanted or needed, and he thinks he can wreck everything. Stop him!”
“You’re acting like a baby. Go inside,” Michael scolded, imagining she’d heed him when he had failed her so miserably.
She was so angry that she didn’t care if she ever spoke to either of them again. She hoped they left and never returned.
Shaking from head to toe, she studied Tristan, her rage uncontrollable, her heart broken.
“If Amelia leaves,” she said, “I will never forgive you as long as I live.”
She whirled around and raced into the house.
Chapter19
“WHERE are you going?”
“I’m off to visit Helen Hamilton.”
“You are not. I forbid it.”
Clarinda glared at her brother.
“You forbid it?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Keep walking, and you’ll discover how serious I am.”
Clarinda rolled her eyes. “Don’t nag as if I was still ten years old.”
“If you don’t want me nagging, don’t act like a child.”
Clarinda spun around and proceeded down the lane. “Excuse me!” Phillip snapped. “Aren’t you listening? I said that you are
not
to go up to the manor.”
“I heard you. I’m simply ignoring you, which I understand will be a shock when you’re so enormously conceited, but you’ll get over it.”
She continued on, pleased that she’d finally forged ahead.
She was determined to befriend Helen Hamilton, and why shouldn’t she?
They had much in common: They were the same age, and they had dubious antecedents. Hamilton worked as a governess, and Clarinda worked, too. Not at a lofty position in a fancy house, but they were both employed females.
Because of her itinerant wanderings, Clarinda had never had any friends. Whenever she met a woman she liked, they moved on before a bond could form. She’d resolved to change her life, and she thought Miss Hamilton might welcome an overture.
Hamilton wasn’t a servant or a member of the Seymour family, so she didn’t belong to any of the established hierarchies in the mansion. She was probably lonely, and Clarinda was vain enough to suppose that Hamilton could greatly benefit from an association.
Clarinda remembered her first encounter with Miss Hamilton, when she’d been poor and hungry and desperate. She’d managed to secure a post with Odell, but if anything happened and she lost it, she was awful at taking care of herself.
She hadn’t any of the common sense that came naturally to Clarinda. Clarinda’s younger years had been filled with toil and struggle, but she’d learned how to fend for herself, how to land on her feet. Along the way, she’d had her dear, larcenous brother to teach her the ropes, but Miss Hamilton had had no one like that.
When times were hard, Hamilton hadn’t a clue of how to get on.
Clarinda possessed some of her mother’s clairvoyance, and she perceived adversity brewing for Hamilton as clearly as if she were sniffing smoke on the wind.
Miss Hamilton was involved with the captain, and Jane with the earl, but if either of the affairs was exposed, Miss Hamilton’s job would vanish. What Hamilton didn’t realize, but what Clarinda fathomed all too well, was that Odell would never side with her in any genuine dispute. Within hours, she’d be out on the streets, her sisters trailing after her, so she needed Clarinda.
Clarinda planned to call on her. She’d be cordial and helpful, and hopefully she’d create a connection so that Hamilton would allow her to assist once calamity struck.
“Clarinda!” Phillip barked, marching after her. Shortly, he caught up.
“Why are you in such a snit?” she demanded. “Am I not permitted to have any friends? Am I not permitted an existence beyond this wagon?”
“You may have as many friends as you like. I just don’t want you rubbing elbows with those rich snobs.”
“I’ll do my best to avoid them.”
“Nothing but trouble will come from it”
“I’m visiting Miss Hamilton. Why would I even see any of the Seymours? From the way you’re acting, you’d think I was off to entice the earl into my bed.”
“He’s been known to turn a few girls’ heads.”
“As if I would be tempted by a boy like him! Honestly, Phillip. Get a grip on yourself.”
“I have a bad feeling about all this. What with the potions we gave them and the secret romances that are festering, I’m worried that we’ve stirred a hornet’s nest”
“Really? So am I.”
They stared, identical dark eyes brimming with concern. They would never discount such a mutual insight. Their acuity was usually spot-on, and their ability to judge people and situations had frequently saved them from disaster.
“I’d better hurry over there,” Clarinda said.
“Don’t you dare come back with any grand ideas.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it”
She strolled off, feeling liberated and carefree.
It was a beautiful autumn day, the sky blue and the temperature warm but with a hint of crispness in the air. The leaves were beginning to change, and as she entered the park that led up to the mansion, the trees were a dazzling canopy of red and gold.
She was nearly skipping, delighted to be wearing a pretty dress, to be making a social call, and she was so swept up in being glad that she almost didn’t notice Miss Hamilton, who was walking directly toward her. Peering at the ground, she trudged along, looking as if she’d been tortured on the rack. Her morose condition provided ample evidence that the catastrophe Clarinda envisioned had already occurred.
Clarinda stopped and waited until the other woman was several yards away, then she hailed, “Miss Hamilton?”
Hamilton glanced up and frowned, having been so lost in dismal rumination that she didn’t appear to recognize Clarinda.
“Miss Dubois? Or is it Dudley? Someone told me you’re not French.”
“I’m very English, and yes, it’s Dudley.”
“So your brother is a charlatan?”
“The very worst kind, but he means well.”
The remark was a paltry attempt at a joke, intended to lighten the mood, but it failed. Not so much as a flicker of a smile crossed Hamilton’s face.
“I was coming to see you,” Clarinda said.
“Me? Why?”
In for a penny, in for a pound
. “I thought you might need a friend.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of those,” Miss Hamilton admitted.
“I realize this will sound terribly forward of me, but what’s happened? I can see that it’s taken a toll on you.”
Clarinda went over and took her hand, and Hamilton collapsed slightly, her knees unable to support her weight. She felt insubstantial, as if her body had no mass.
Frantically, Clarinda gazed around, searching for somewhere to sit. On a nearby path, she espied a garden bench in a shelter of trees. She guided Miss Hamilton to it and eased her down. Hamilton followed without a murmur of complaint, being visibly overwrought and relieved to have Clarinda in charge.
“What is it?” Clarinda pressed. “You can tell me.”
“It’s the very worst thing,” Hamilton mumbled. “The very worst...”
At any other period in Hamilton’s life, Clarinda knew Hamilton wouldn’t have breathed a word of shame or disgrace, but she was bewildered and shocked and had no one in whom to confide.

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