The Elusive Flame (33 page)

Sensing her tension, Uncle Sterling cleared his throat. “Are you planning to remain in Charleston very long, Captain Birmingham?”

“Perhaps a bit longer than usual, Professor Kendall. I have important matters that need my close attention.” The fact that his gaze shifted from the man to Cerynise seemed to indicate that she was at the forefront of those important matters. “I should still be here well into mid-summer, if not longer.”

Sterling was growing more bemused by the moment. “Has your fascination with the sea waned, then?”

The wide shoulders lifted in a brief shrug. “I wouldn’t say that exactly, but I have other interests that have plagued me much of late, and I’d like them settled one way or the other before I’ll even think of leaving.”

Cerynise was certain that he was referring to their annulment, but he could hardly blame her for the delay. For more than a month now she had been expecting papers to arrive and had recently begun to suspect that they wouldn’t. Beau could hardly have forgotten about their marital division, but then, when he was so dedicated to remaining a bachelor, he probably thought he had all the time in the world. He’d have been shocked to learn differently.

Germaine was ecstatic over the idea of his lengthy stay. “Oh, Beau, it would be so nice to have you around Charleston for a change. I really think you’d love attending the Spring Ball this year, and since I’m still available…well, we can talk about that later. Still, I’ve always thought that sailing off to all those other countries must be terribly dangerous. Every time you leave, I wonder if you’ll be coming back. Now I won’t have to worry, at least for a while.”

“I doubt that we’d he standing where we are today if
our forefathers had been afraid of danger,” Beau replied distantly, again without the slightest flicker in the woman’s direction.

“I do hope your business here proceeds smoothly, Captain,” Cerynise murmured, and couldn’t resist a gentle prodding to remind him that their annulment was something that he was supposed to arrange. “Perhaps you’ve been so busy lately that you’ve forgotten about Mr. Farraday.”

“Mr. Farraday?” Germaine began, her brows gathering in perplexity. “Does she mean the solicitor?”

The woman received no answer, for none of the others was paying her any heed. Uncle Sterling was far too absorbed eyeing his niece and the captain. Cerynise could only stare in helpless fascination as Beau’s lean jaw tightened dangerously. At present, he was looking at her so coldly that, had he been a dastardly pirate, she might have found herself run through. She could hardly ignore the fact that she had vexed him again, but she wasn’t at all sure how she had done so. He
had
been talking about the annulment, hadn’t he?

“Henceforth, I’ll be certain to assure Mr. Farraday’s speed in all matters,
Miss Kendall
,” Beau answered coolly. “Now good day to you both.” With a curt nod to her uncle, he slipped a hand beneath Germaine’s arm and escorted the delightfully surprised creature into the shop.

Uncle Sterling hesitated a moment before offering his own arm to Cerynise. When she continued to stare blankly in the direction in which the pair had gone well after they had disappeared into the shop, he took her hand and slipped it gently within the crook of his elbow. She walked stiltedly, rather like a lifeless doll, as he drew her along with him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about those papers, my dear. Are you sure the annulment is what you want?”

Cerynise was still very much in a daze and didn’t hear a word he said. She could only rebuke herself harshly for driving Beau not only away from her but straight into
the clutches of Germaine Hollingsworth. Where he was concerned, it seemed she could only act the part of a complete simpleton. When she foolishly, systematically destroyed every chance that she had of keeping what she truly, desperately wanted in life, it was obvious to her that she was hell-bent on her own destruction and misery.

As if to emphasize her distress, her stomach began to roil very strangely. Completely shocked by what she was feeling, Cerynise gasped softly and swayed on her feet, coming very near to buckling to her knees. Sterling caught her arm and looked at her in sudden concern. Her pale, drawn face was enough to convince him. He raised a hand to summon a hired livery and quickly handed her in.

“If this continues, my dear,” he said as the carriage rattled along the cobbled street, “I shall insist that you see my physician.”

Cerynise shook her head and turned her face toward the window to hide her tears. “I’m fine. Really. I just got too warm, I guess.”

Her uncle murmured something about it not being very warm at all outside, but he didn’t pursue the topic any further. He was beginning to have his suspicions, and he was not above laying the blame on Captain Birmingham.

When they reached the house, Cerynise excused herself and went up to her room to rest. She doffed her gown and shoes before stretching out upon her bed. With a feeling of awe, she moved her hands slowly over her abdomen, where a definite curve was beginning to form. How long since that single night of love? Four months, give or take a week? At least long enough for the movements of the baby to become strong and sure. All of her efforts to withhold herself from Beau after that one brief episode had been for naught. His seed had already found fertile ground, and in her womb she was carrying part of him, possibly the only part she would ever be allowed to keep. It wouldn’t be long now before people began to notice her ever-growing belly and began to whisper snide comments. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to beg Beau to give up his
freedom for the sake of their child. It was a choice he’d have to make on his own.

It was a long, sleepless night. Cerynise spent most of it wondering how best to proceed with motherhood. She finally decided that it would probably be better for herself and her baby if she moved away to another southern city where she wouldn’t be known and where she could make a pretense of being a young widow. She
had
gotten with child while married, except that it was the death of that union that would leave her greatly bereaved. Once she was settled, she could start painting again and hopefully sell her work surreptitiously as she had done before. If things went well, it wouldn’t take her long to establish a life for herself and be fairly situated before her baby was born the middle of August.

It was late the next morning when she finally went downstairs with a smock covering her gown, which had become a necessity. Since her uncle was engrossed in writing a book about the ancient Greeks, she fully expected him to be secluded in his study, where he usually worked. The study doors were closed, and with a wavering sigh of thankfulness, she went into the small morning room just off the kitchen. Her stomach was no calmer now than it had been in recent days, and she wondered if her lingering nausea was due in part to her wrought-up emotions. She had heard of women suffering from queasiness even into the later stages of their pregnancy, but she sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be true in her case. Knowing that she had to force herself to eat for the sake of her child, she took a small serving of eggs and biscuit onto her plate and had made only minute progress when Cora entered.

“Your pardon, Miss Cerynise, but this package arrived for you earlier this morning.”

Even after she had been left alone again, Cerynise made no effort to examine the contents of the large envelope of stiff vellum. It was carefully folded and sealed with blood-red wax, just the sort of package a lawyer might send. Listlessly she went to the window, looked out upon the
garden for a time and then returned to her place where she forced herself to eat. Gradually, she armed herself with the mettle required to open the packet.

Inside was a sheaf of legal documents written out in meticulous copperplate. The last page also bore an impressive-looking seal and room for several signatures. One was already in place.

The dark, heavy ink emphatically implied that Beau had signed without hesitation. After flipping back to the first page, she began to read the content. There was a great deal of legal terminology, but it all meant the same thing. They had never lived together as man and wife. Therefore no true marriage had existed or would ever exist in the future. They both agreed to surrender any legal rights and obligations to one another in perpetuity.

It was very quiet in the morning room. Cerynise could hear a few distant sounds of carriages and horses passing on the lane, but they did little to pierce the dark cloud that hung over her life. She knew what she was about to do was at the very least illegal and quite probably immoral, for she was about to swear to what was untrue. However briefly, she and Beau
had
lived together as man and wife. The fact that her pregnancy had occurred with no awareness on his part changed nothing.

She had no doubt now that what she had dreaded for nigh to three months was true, yet she was about to condemn her unborn child to bastardy, all in service to a private sense of honor she could hardly explain even to herself. The enormity of the chasm looming before her unnerved Cerynise, yet she refused to draw back now. She would never entrap Beau against his will, not when he had made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t ready to commit himself to a wife and family. Nor would she sacrifice her own sense of what was fair and right, even if the whole world thought her mad.

Despite the nausea that had returned with a vengeance, Cerynise reached for the quill and ink on the serving board, sparing a pensive smile for the habits of a scholar who never knew when he might want to jot down a thought. Though her hand was shaking violently, she took a firm grip on herself and painstakingly signed her name:

Beside Beau’s bold declaration, her own seemed pale and insignificant, but it would have to do. She sanded it quickly, closed the document, and returned it to the envelope. Before she could allow herself even a moment’s hesitation, she rang for Cora. When the woman appeared, Cerynise gave her the envelope with the request that it be sent posthaste to Captain Birmingham.

Early that same afternoon, Cora came into the room which Uncle Sterling had given Cerynise to use as her studio. The younger woman’s paints, easel and paintings and sketches from the sea voyage cluttered the room. Most of the latter were on the floor, leaning against the wall as the girl strove to organize her work area.

“Miss Cerynise, there’s a lady at the front door who says she’d like to talk to you about a portrait she wants you to paint.”

“Did she give her name?”

“No, ma’am. She just said you’d know her.”

Cerynise frowned, thinking it odd of the visitor, and then questioned, “What does she look like?”

“Oh, real pretty, miss,” the maid assured her. “Small with black hair.”

“Oh, that must be Brenna.” The interest Beau’s sister had shown in her work assured Cerynise that it could be no other. In spite of everything, she was delighted to be visited by the girl, and with a smile, she cleared a place
for her guest to sit. “Please show her back here to my studio, Cora, and prepare us some tea.”

Cerynise was so busy arranging a place for them to sit and chat over tea that she didn’t even think of donning the smock that she had taken off only a few moments earlier when she had gotten too warm in the room. Cora didn’t see well enough to notice much detail beyond a handbreadth from her nose, and Cerynise had felt no qualms about doffing the covering. She was just finishing her task and still had her back to the study door when a soft rustle of taffeta brought her to the awareness that her beautiful caller had arrived.

“I never imagined that you’d come so soon, Brenna,” she said, turning to face her visitor. Her smile of greeting froze in an instant as she saw Germaine Hollingsworth smirking back at her from the doorway.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Cerynise,” the brunette said, arching a dark brow sardonically. “I can understand how much you may have wanted Beau’s sister here, but I’m afraid you’ll have to contend with me instead.”

“So you
do
remember me after all,” Cerynise goaded, trying to appear casual as she moved toward the stool where she had left the loose cotton smock. Without a shawl or some other protective covering, she was too far along in her pregnancy to hope that people wouldn’t notice her thickening waist or rounding shape. All they would have to do was take a close look at her and they’d know instantly that she was with child.