The Selfless Sister (10 page)

“Very well, Lucinda,” he answered with a lecherous smile that made her want to throw up.

Without another word, she
hurriedly left the room.

* * *

It was not until Lucinda was back in her bed chamber that she realized the import of her newly made promise to Edgerton, and the significance of that lecherous look he gave her. She felt sick, just thinking about any sort of intimacy with Edgerton Linley. She must be careful from now on—make sure she was never alone with him again. As for her promise, it suddenly dawned on her that now, at this very moment, she should be in the woods, on her way to her rendezvous with Lord Belington. Despite trying to convince herself she didn’t care about him, she knew she did care and had looked forward with eager anticipation to seeing him again.

With a moan of distress, she realized she couldn’t go. But at the least she could send him a note, via one of the servants, to let him know she could not keep their rendezvous.

But which servant? After last night, she knew that at least one, and probably more, was spying for Edgerton.

She could not
even send a note, she realized with a sinking heart.

Chapter
8

In her canopied rococo bed, Madame Rose Clarisse de Soissons lay spent and satisfied in the arms of Douglas, Lord Belington. At least physically satisfied. As for the rest, the sensual abandon she always felt when making love with Douglas was missing. She wasn’t sure why. She simply sensed something was wrong and she could pretty much guess what it was.

“Who is she?” Rose asked.

Douglas, who had nearly fallen asleep, aroused himself enough to mumble, “What do you mean, who is she?”

There was a pain in Rose’s heart as she lightly replied, “I mean, who was the woman you made love to tonight?”

He pulled her closer. “You, of course.”

In the flickering candlelight, Rose pulled back. She raised herself on one elbow and looked down upon the man who was the object of her hopeless adoration. “There’s someone on your mind, Douglas. You might as well have been on the moon tonight. In fact, every night since you returned from York you’ve been inattentive, with a remote look in your eye. Gambling losses perhaps? Hmm, I don’t think so. Problems at your estate? Highly doubtful. That leaves only one thing, my love.” She bent over him, so close her lips brushed his ear. “It must be a woman.”

Douglas opened his eyes and gazed up at her. When she saw the consternation that lay deep within them, her despair intensified. She must be careful. Her true feelings must never, never show.

“If I didn’t please you tonight, my apologies,” he said.

“Don’t apologize,” Rose lightly replied. “You did your duty. You made love in your usual ardent fashion, as always.” Ironically she added, “It was just to someone else, that’s all.”

Douglas opened his mouth to protest, but Rose touched a finger to his lips. “Don’t deny it, not to me. I know you. You’ve a woman on your mind. She was here in bed with us tonight, It was she whom you kissed and caressed and made love to. It’s a wonder you did not call out her name.”

“Perdition!” Douglas said through gritted teeth. With one fluid motion he flung the covers back and slid from the bed. He started pacing, wrapping a towel around his waist, which was a pity, Rose thought, considering how she loved to let her eyes feast on every gorgeous inch of her lover’s body.

“So what’s her name?” she asked.

“Really, Rose.”

“What’s her name?”

“Lucinda.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his fingers through the tangle of his longish dark hair. “What a quandary I am in. I can’t believe this.”

“Tell me about her,” Rose urged gently.

Douglas closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to envision the girl. “She’s splendidly tall. She has chestnut colored hair, a turned-up little nose, big brown eyes...ah, she’s very pretty, but that’s not the whole of it by far. There’s an air about her that puts her far above those minxes one finds in London. For one thing, she’s intelligent and doesn’t try to hide it. She’s direct. She doesn’t simper.” He slanted a glance at his mistress. “Just like you, Rose. Also, she’s refreshingly honest. More than once she’s set me down”—he cast Rose another glance, this time amused—”much the same as you do.”

“But she doesn’t resemble me in all respects, now does she? I would wager she’s marriageable, whereas I...”
Rose shrugged and left the rest unsaid.

“She’s the daughter of a baron.”

“Good enough.” Rose was proud of herself for displaying just the right degree of amiability, thus hiding her growing pain. What a foolish woman she was. Hadn’t she always known that some day her beloved would succumb to Cupid’s arrow? She braced herself for his answer and asked, “Then what’s to prevent you from courting this marvel of a woman and marrying her?”

“I cannot.”

“But why?”

“Where to begin?” he asked, shaking his head. “I have already spoken of the dark curse that hangs over Ravensbrook and that I’ll never marry. Nothing has changed. To make matters worse, Lucinda is currently living in the home of her cousin, who also happens to be the man who hates the Belingtons with a passion. Edgerton Linley is his name. If he could vanquish every Belington from this earth he would do so.”

“For what reason?”

“He thinks he has good cause.” With a bleak, tight-lipped smile, Douglas went on, “Who knows? Perhaps he does.”

“But what of Lucinda? Does she not love you enough to go against her family?”
I know I would
, Rose thought miserably.

“Not likely. In the first place, we just met and hardly know each other. Second, she had agreed to meet me in the woods but failed to appear.”

“Perhaps she was delayed. Did you wait for her long?”

“Only hours, all the time thinking what a fool I was.”

Rose felt a sudden, instant relief. Perhaps she wasn’t going to lose him after all, at least not for a while. “Well, if she’s so thoughtless and inconsiderate as to not keep your tryst, then it’s best to forget about her, don’t you agree?”

“Of course I should forget about her, and I shall. After all, I’ve only met her twice.” Even in the dim candlelight Rose could see the look of disquiet that came over his face. “Of course I shall forget about her. This isn’t like me.”

No it isn’t
, Rose thought glumly. ”That’s what you say, but you give some indication of being well-nigh obsessed with this Lucinda. Are you sure this will be the end of it?”

“Yes, most definitely.” He quirked that little smile that always twisted her heart and playfully tweaked a lock of her hair. “The night’s not over,” he said.

No, indeed, it wasn’t over. Soon he would be making love to Miss Splendidly Tall again, at least in his heart. Rose heaved a secret, inner sigh. That he had fallen in love with Lucinda Linley was obvious, but with the wisdom of her many years of contending with men, she knew it would be best not to say another word.

* * *

“What a charming teapot, Lady Perry,” said Lucinda. She was sitting in Lady Perry’s elegant drawing room where she had been invited for tea.

Lady Perry held up the flowered, Chinese porcelain teapot. “Isn’t it lovely?
” She poured the tea with practiced elegance and asked, “Well, Lucinda, has it really been a month since you arrived?”

“A month that has flown by,” Lucinda answered. “I must thank you for inviting me. So kind of you, considering I’m a stranger.”

Lady Perry’s infectious laughter rippled through the air. “Oh, I always love a comfortable coz, and you struck me as someone not boring, which I cannot say for most of the ladies of the countryside. In fact, I knew I’d like you the minute we met. You have some substance to you.”

“I felt the same about you, Lady Perry.”

“Oh, do call me Felicia, and I shall call you Lucinda, if that’s agreeable. I plan a trip to London next month. I’ve an urge to do the shops. Would you like to come along? I’m sure Pernelia would let you go for just a few days.”

Lucinda felt excited. “Why I’d love to. I’ve not visited London since my last Season there, three years ago.”

“Then we’ll do it,” said Lady Perry nodding happily. “Now tell me, how do you like it here in York?”

Lucinda hesitated before she said in her candid manner, “There’s the good and the bad.”

Her hostess smiled and nodded. “Naturally you miss your family.”

That was so true. Sometimes Lucinda felt so homesick, she wanted to just run home. But mostly it was Edgerton with his slashing sarcasm that made life at Southfield almost unendurable. Good manners prevented her from such an admission, though. “I do miss my family, but there’s much to be said for York and staying at Southfield. Alethea is delightful, and Aunt Pernelia is one of the sweetest women I have ever known.”

“Did you know that Pernelia and I were once quite close?” asked Lady Perry. “Did you know we’re the exact same age, only two months apart?”

“Are you serious?” Lucinda was greatly surprised. Her gaze fell upon Lady Perry’s straight posture, fine, unwrinkled skin and clear, bright eyes. “I would have thought you were ten years younger, at the very least.”

Lady Perry smiled ruefully. “Well, I’m not, but that’s nice to hear. It’s nothing to brag about, though. Poor Pernelia. No wonder she looks old before her time. From the day she lost her daughter, her life has never been the same.”

How unusual, thought Lucinda. Everyone involved seem to tippy-toe around mention of the tragedy, as if any talk of it was anathema. Yet, here was Lady Perry referring to it openly. Lucinda searched for something agreeable to say. “I would guess that tragic event brings back sad memories to a lot of people. It’s all so very sad.”

“So true.”

Lucinda was surprised at the melancholy expression that stole over Lady Perry’s face. She so admired this tall, elegant, vibrant woman who dressed to perfection, and who, up until now, had invariably been pleasant and charming, never betraying the slightest negative thought.

“You would have loved Marianne,” continued Lady Perry. “She was a darling little girl. Pernelia has spent years scouring the woods searching for her, but, of course to no avail. I have no children of my own, but even I can see there could be nothing worse than losing one’s own child.” Lady Perry remained silent a moment. She glanced at the ceiling, as if deciding whether or not to say something that was obviously on her mind. “I, too, suffered from the tragedy,” she finally said.

“You did, Felicia?” Lucinda wondered how she could possibly have been involved.

“I’m surprised no one told you. You see, I was betrothed to Gregory when Marianne disappeared.”

Lucinda’s mouth almost dropped open
, and she had to catch herself. “You were?” she finally managed, “but I thought—”

“You have been told that Gregory was a blackguard and a devil, that he engaged in a dissolute life in London with his drinking, gambling...and the rest.”

“Something like that, yes.”

“What you heard was wrong. Gregory was a kind, considerate, utterly charming man. Oh, true, for a time he sowed a few wild oats in London, but at the time of the tragedy, that part of his life was behind him.” Felicia closed her eyes a moment, as if remembering. “When Gregory fled to France, my heart went with him. My hopes were high, you see. I could never in a million years have believed that Gregory could have committed such a horrible crime, if, indeed, such a crime was committed. In my naive fashion, I firmly believed that eventually everything would be all right. Somehow, some way, Marianne would be found alive and safe, and Gregory would be completely exonerated and come back to me. How foolish!” She shrugged in resignation. “Now I know that such a happy ending only happens in novels. It was never to be. Six months later, I received word that Gregory was dead in Paris. He had committed suicide.”

“How terrible.”

Lady Perry’s eyes moistened as she nodded. “Twenty-five years have gone by and I can still hardly bear to think of it. It was terrible for me, and, of course, for his parents. Lady Belington took to her bed and was not seen for months. Lord Belington was the one who called on me to impart the tragic news. Beyond his brave facade, I have never seen such grief. Poor man, he was shocked and devastated. Not only was he forced to endure the shame of the scandal, but then, to compound his grief he
lost his son and heir.”

“Are they both dead now?”

Alas, yes. Neither Lord nor Lady Belington lived more than a few years after the tragedy. Marianne’s disappearance—Gregory’s running off and then his suicide–were simply too much to bear, especially since both of them were immediately ostracized. When Marianne disappeared, the entire countryside turned against them.”

“But why?” Lucinda asked. “What had they done?”

“Nothing, of course, but nonetheless, they were blamed because the hideous event occurred on their estate at their Christmas celebration. Mainly, though, they were shunned because Gregory was their son. To the very end they claimed his innocence, and people didn’t like that. I think that if they’d admitted his guilt, they would have been forgiven, or at least things might have gone easier for them.”

“Didn’t Lord and Lady Belington even consider that Gregory might be guilty?”

“Never. Oh, they believed that Gregory had taken Marianne into the woods. Edgerton, who was only a child then, had no reason to lie, nor did his little sister. And besides, later on, the pony was found, still saddled, wandering around outside the stable. The indications are the pony came back from the woods on its own after what happened. But still, Lord and Lady Belington never had a doubt their son was completely innocent.”

After a moment of dreary silence, Lady Perry brightened. “I’ve said enough, haven’t I? Please forgive me for dwelling on such a depressing subject.” She lifted the teapot. “May I pour you some more tea?”

“You have never married,” Lucinda mentioned after the tea was poured and she was stirring sugar into her cup.

“I could never find another Gregory.” Lady Perry nodded brightly. “But I’ve led a satisfying life, regardless.” She made a sweeping gesture around the drawing room. “I have built my life around my home and quite frankly, lead a most happy existence. I embroider, write poetry, and I love to entertain. My life is full and happy, which only goes to show, Lucinda”
—she leaned forward as if to impart a confidence—”one doesn’t necessarily need a man in order to be happy.”