The Gilded Web (43 page)

“You look very lovely, Alex,” he said, holding one of her hands and waiting for the music to start.

“Thank you,” she said. And then an almost impish look, which he knew he had never seen in London, flashed into her eyes. “And you look very handsome, Edmund.”

He grinned. And the music began.

And so he began to enjoy his final evening as her betrothed. Tomorrow he must shock both their families and all their acquaintances and many with whom they were not even acquainted by announcing that he no longer had any intention of marrying her. Wherever would he find another Alexandra Purnell? It was perhaps as well that he had no intention of ever trying, or of finding any other woman, for that matter. He doubted anyway that any lady would be eager to accept his marriage proposal after tomorrow, for all his wealth and position. He was certainly about to forfeit his name of gentleman in perhaps the worst possible manner.

A
LEXANDRA WAS GOING TO ENJOY THE BALL. She had decided that before it even started, and had even sat unprotesting while Nanny Rey dressed her hair in a style far more frivolous than any she had ever worn. She had chosen her dress with care for its lightness and daring lines. She had not worn it before. She might never again have the chance to attend such an event or to enjoy herself so much. She was going to make the most of her opportunity. There would be time enough tomorrow for the heartache and the regrets.

She was glad to see that Lord Amberley was in a mood to match her own. He was not looking unduly solemn or tragic or angry. He was smiling for his guests and smiling for her. And she was glad she was seeing his house at its very best. The state dining room had looked splendid indeed set for thirty guests, and the ballroom looked more breathtaking than any she had ever seen. She was glad it was all his. He would never be careless of such a possession.

“That should warm everyone up,” he said to her with a smile as the vigorous country dance that opened the ball came to an end. “And here comes Dominic to claim your hand for the quadrille. I will wager you will not have a chance to sit down this evening, Alex.”

She smiled at Lord Eden. How dear he too had become to her in the past couple of weeks. So handsome and boyishly charming, so very popular with the young girls of all classes. Susan Courtney sighed after him, and his cousin Anna and countless of the village maidens. She was going to miss him.

“Miss Purnell,” he said, “you look quite dazzling. Edmund, Miss Moffat declares that she has no wish to go to St. James's or Almack's or any other fashionable assembly room. She declares that nothing could surpass this very ballroom.”

Lord Amberley grinned. “I am surprised she even noticed her surroundings, Dom,” he said. “She seemed to have eyes for no one but her partner.”

Lord Eden flushed unexpectedly and reached for Alexandra's hand. “Shall we take our places, Miss Purnell?” he asked. “The members of the orchestra are very eager. They are almost ready to start again already.”

She put her hand in his as Lord Amberley went off in search of his next partner.

“I must talk to you,” Lord Eden said, looking at her with a mixture of eagerness and agitation. “I should have done so sooner and not left it for an occasion like this. May I talk to you later, Miss Purnell, or will you come walking with me now?”

“Perhaps we should talk now,” she said, looking rather regretfully at the dancers taking their places around them.

He led her out through the French doors, which stretched the length of the ballroom opposite the mirrored wall. All had been left open against the warmth of the night. The terrace outside was almost deserted. It was too early for there to be many strollers seeking escape from the heat of the ballroom.

“I have procrastinated, ma'am,” Lord Eden said, his voice now decidedly agitated. “I should have spoken with you privately days ago.”

“Perhaps,” she said calmly. “The last time we spoke, you asked me to marry you. I did not have a chance to give you my answer. We were interrupted by Anna. The answer was and is no, my lord, though I thank you most sincerely for your offer. You have a kind and generous heart.”

He was silent for a while as they strolled and the music of the quadrille flowed round them. “I left it too late,” he said. “I should have pressed my claim with more ardor while we were still in London. I have seen that since we have been here. I have seen that it is now impossible to change the situation without another huge scandal. Is that what has prompted your answer, Miss Purnell?”

“I have been touched by your loyalty to your brother and your concern for me,” she said. “But I do not believe I would have accepted your offer, my lord, even if there had been no chance of further scandal.”

“But in London,” he said, “if I had known sooner what happened at Lady Sharp's and if I had returned to Curzon Street before Edmund, you would have accepted me, Miss Purnell? I cannot forgive myself for having been so tardy.”

“No,” she said, touching his hand lightly with hers for a moment. “Not even then. For you would have come and asked, you see, and my answer would have been the same as it was the first time.”

“But is not that what Edmund did?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” she said with a little smile. “By the time your brother came to ask me for the second time, I really had little choice but to accept.”

“We have made a mess of your life, Edmund and I between us, have we not?” he said, looking down at her with a frown.

“Not really,” she said. “Had I not been mistaken for Madeline at the Easton ball, I would now be contemplating a betrothal to and matrimony with the Duke of Peterleigh. I think I have had a fortunate escape.”

“I have to agree with you there,” he said, looking somewhat cheered. “I would not like to think of you as that man's property, Miss Purnell. You have far too much character for that kind of life.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“And can you be happy with Edmund?” he asked somewhat wistfully. “You could not ask for a better man, you know. I do not know a better. I have always admired my brother's steadiness of character and his invariable kindness. He will certainly take care of you.”

“Yes,” Alexandra said, “he is good at taking care of people and shouldering their burdens.”

“Isn't he, though?” Lord Eden said eagerly. “I am glad you have noticed that, Miss Purnell. I have always thought that perhaps one day someone would do the same for Edmund. Look after him, I mean, and help him with the problems of life. It is absurd to think of Edmund needing help, is it not? But sometimes I think perhaps he is more vulnerable than the rest of us put together. We have always come running to him. It is second nature to him now to rush in to help without a care for himself. And he has been doing it for ten years, Miss Purnell. He was only nineteen when Papa died. That seems very young to me now.”

“Yes,” Alexandra said, “it is.”

“That is what I wanted to do for him now,” he continued. “Relieve him of a burden, that is. I thought that if I could marry you…” He stopped both talking and walking. His eyes were closed in a grimace when Alexandra looked up at him. “Oh, ma'am, I am so sorry. I did not mean…”

She laughed. “I know what you meant,” she said. “I know exactly what you meant, my lord. I am not offended.”

“You are generous,” he said. His face brightened suddenly, and it was the usual boyish, eager Lord Eden who looked down at her. “But I have just had a thought. Perhaps I have done that for him after all. Perhaps I have been responsible for giving him you. If you feel as I do, Miss Purnell, if you want to make Edmund's life less lonely, less burdensome, then you will be the best thing that has happened to him in ten years. And I will be responsible.”

“Yes.” Alexandra smiled up into his eager face. She felt as if she had a lump in her throat. She wanted to turn and run out into the darkness. “Yes, so you would.”

“Do you care for Edmund?” he asked. “I have watched the two of you together, and sometimes I feel that you do care, both of you. But perhaps I am only seeing what I want to see. Do you care for him?”

“Yes,” she said. “I care for him.” She turned her face from him. “Very much,” she added almost on a whisper.

He took her by the upper arms and squeezed them. “I am so glad,” he said. “I am so happy, Miss Purnell. Did you know that I am leaving the day after tomorrow?”

“No,” she said. “The army?”

He nodded, his face alight with eagerness. “I hope it will mean Spain,” he said. “I hope I will be sent there as soon as possible. I want my chance for a jab at old Boney. I can scarcely wait.”

“How does your family feel?” she asked.

He sobered slightly. “Edmund has been wonderful,” he said. “He has urged me to do what I want to do. There have been tears from the women, of course, though Mama is just as insistent as Edmund that I must do with my life what I feel I must do. Madeline had the hysterics this morning when I told her, and has not talked to me since.”

“Poor Madeline,” she said. “She loves you very dearly, you know.”

“I know,” he said. “I have imagined how I would feel if I had to stand by and see her go voluntarily into great danger. I think I might have hysterics too.”

“She will come to understand,” she said. “She will do as you have done, you see. She will put herself in your place and know how important this is to you.”

“Miss Purnell…” He looked earnestly down at her. “I must ask a favor of you. If anything happens to me, if I should be killed, will you look after Mad for me? It is a huge favor to ask, is it not, and I have thought of it now only on the spur of the moment. But you see, Mama and Edmund will have their own grief to contend with. But Madeline's will be different and many times worse. We are twins. Will you help her?”

Alexandra felt as if she were trapped at the bottom of a deep well. She was about to suffocate or drown. She smiled. “Madeline is a strong person,” she said. “If such a thing were to happen, no one could help her, you know. Not your mother, not Edmund, and not I. But she would survive. You know that too. But why the talk of death? It is far more likely that you will come home the conquering hero.”

He smiled. “I really do not feel the need for either death or heroism,” he said. “Just to be able to be part of the army and part of the excitement and dirt and danger and exhaustion of a campaign. That is all I want, Miss Purnell: the chance to do my part. But the music is coming to an end. I must return you inside. I am glad we have had this talk.”

She laughed. “And so you should be,” she said. “You have been released from one problem anyway, sir.”

He smiled ruefully. “You would not have been a problem, Miss Purnell,” he said. “I would have been proud to fight for you.”

M
ADELINE HAD BEEN SO
furiously gay all evening that by midnight she was exhausted. She had laughed and chattered and flirted until she was convinced that the whole county must believe that Lady Madeline Raine was as empty-headed a young female as society could offer. She had refused a request to go outside walking with Captain Forbes, sensing that a proposal of marriage was imminent and terrified that in her present mood she might accept it. And her smile had not faltered since she had left her room before dinner.

She would not have believed how much effort and ingenuity it took to avoid two men. To avoid meeting their eyes, to avoid being close enough to them to hear what they were saying or to risk having to say something to them.

She would kill Dominic. She would save the French the trouble of blowing him off the face of the earth. She would do it for them. Why did he always have to be bursting with that crusading zeal? Why did he have to be a knight in shining armor? Why did he occasionally have to be Don Quixote? She did not want a brave, adventurous, chivalrous brother. She wouldn't care if he were the biggest coward in the kingdom, provided that she could know that he was safe. She just wanted Dominic.

And now he was going to go away and get himself killed. And he did not care at all how she felt or what she would suffer. But she would not give him the satisfaction of pleading with him anymore, she had decided. She was not even going to speak to him again before he left.

Before he left! Panic grabbed at her when she remembered that he was going to go away in two days' time. She might never see him again. She would spend the following months and perhaps even years constantly waiting for news, constantly dreading that letter that would bring bad news. How did the army let one know of the death of a loved one in battle? She did not want to know. She shook her head and smiled more dazzlingly than she had intended at Howard Courtney.

She turned away and slipped out through the French doors. She had one dance free. The rector had engaged to dance with her, but he had been called away suddenly to a sick parishioner. It was no one belonging to the Amberley estate, she had been thankful to hear, or doubtless Edmund would have felt it imperative to go too. No one had yet noticed that she did not have a partner for the set then beginning. It was a delightful feeling to know that she had half an hour during which to be alone, during which to let her face relax and her pretense of enjoyment slip.