Cynthia Bailey Pratt (9 page)

“No! That is, you say yourself you know what gossip is. And I have a position to keep.” His hand was warm and his eyes were deep. She began to feel dizzy looking up into them.

Softly, he said, “You never told me why you were crying.”

“I wasn’t crying,” she insisted. “I was tired, and hot. It’s a warm day, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I notice it now.” His breath stirred the tendrils of hair inside her bonnet. His teeth were very white. She knew she was staring at his mouth. With an effort, she freed herself from his grasp. “Will I see you soon?” he asked.

‘ “There is no reason for us to meet again. Sir Carleton. When I have the money I owe you, I will return it by post.”

“You don’t owe me anything, let alone four sovereigns.”

“Five,” she said. Obviously, returning money by stealth did not wipe out the obligation. Oh well, she’d just consider the extra coin as interest on a loan. Then, what he said struck her, and she gaped at him.

“I guessed it had to be you,” he said. “When I went out and won all that money, I guessed. You’ve paid me back. About two hundred times over.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“To put it simply. Miss Wingrove, you are my luck.”

Chapter Five

Of course, the idea that she was the embodiment of his luck was ridiculous. Sir Carleton admitted it the moment after he’d spoken. “There’s that fancy-filled childhood again. Miss Wingrove. It is just an idle thought, born of coincidence. Because whenever I see you, or so it seemed for a mad instant, I win.”

“Then you knew it was I, last night?”

“You did leave a calling card.” He inserted thumb and forefinger into his waistcoat pocket and brought out a gleaming coin. “Allow me to return your property to you, as I returned hers to Miss Clively.”

The pleasure Danita had taken in his company evaporated. He knew perfectly well that handkerchief had never belonged to Berenice. Most likely, he’d bought it himself or it belonged to some other woman, left perhaps in his chamber. She blushed at the direction of her thoughts and said stiffly, “I gave you that in payment of a debt of honor. I shall not take it back.”

“Then I am your banker for twenty-one shillings. A small sum, faith, but you may need it someday.”

“Do as you like with your own property. Sir Carleton.”

“Then I shall give it to you.” His smile would have charmed the heart of the purest saint.

Seeing the laughter in his golden eyes, Danita found it easy to mock herself. “A lady never takes money from a gentleman.”

“Ah, but then, as I may have said, I’m no gentleman.”

He moved fast, confining her arms to her body by a sudden embrace. Furious, she struggled with him as he laughingly dragged the string of her reticule over her glove. Paying infuriatingly little attention to the angry woman he controlled with a single arm, he opened the small bag and then stopped. He looked down into Danita’s face. Her movements arrested as though by a sudden freeze, Danita met his gaze.

There was no sound in the little lane. Danita was not even aware of the beating of her own heart. She could feel the strength of Sir Carleton’s arms and the mightiness of his chest like the walls and castle of a great fortress. She felt as helpless as a prisoner but at the same time, she knew a great desire to accept her bondage. Realizing her own arm had curled around his great body, she dropped it at once to her side.

Sir Carleton’s lips moved as though he meant to speak, but at that moment, shrill laughter came toward them, borne on the blowing of a light breeze. Danita found the door of her prison open, and she stepped back. Sir Carleton returned the small purse to her without a word.

She said, less sharply than she’d intended, “You must understand that I cannot be indebted to you. To anyone. You will receive the rest of what I owe to you as soon as I have it. Good day, Sir Carleton.” Danita supposed she walked composedly enough away, but the giggly girls she met on the path stared at her only to break into greater laughter after she’d passed.

Berenice noticed nothing amiss with her cousin, and Mrs. Rivington was too annoyed at the inability of the companion to find Mr. Newland to pay any further attention. “Men!” she said. “I suppose I shall have to go without my luncheon now. He’s most likely forgotten all about it.”

“You know, I have never eaten at the Sydney Hotel,” Berenice said, her husky voice scarcely louder than a whisper.

“Won’t you join me. Miss Clively? I will bring you home after we eat.”

“I didn’t mean...” Berenice began, coloring up attractively. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Rivington. Danita, please tell them I shan’t be at home for luncheon.”

Her emotions once more under control, Danita accepted being overlooked without changing expression. Met at the door by a request to go up at once to see Mrs. Clively, Danita paused in her room only long enough to take off her bonnet and spencer. As she came out onto the landing, she heard Mrs. Clively’s door open and close. Looking over the banister, Danita saw a youngish woman going down the stairs. Even glimpsed from the back, there was something familiar about her.

As she entered Mrs. Clively’s room, Danita recalled where she’d seen the woman before. It had been she who, while strolling on the arm of another man in the park, had flashed a glance of admiration toward Sir Carleton. She must have sprinted from the Gardens to reach New Bond Street so soon.

But there was no time to mull over this strange visitor. Mrs. Clively sat in a low armchair in which she spent her afternoons. A strong, stale smell of the perfume she used, civet and bay, permeated the air as though she’d been preserved in it like a mummy through the centuries. “There you are, child. You’ve been an age. But the young will have their pleasure while they can.”

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clively. I hope you found the waters this morning efficacious.”

Beneath her white cap, quite stiff with lace, Mrs. Clively wrinkled her nose in a disgusted expression. “I suppose they must do me good, they taste so vilely.” Her face hardening, she said, “But that is not what I wish to say to you. How often have I instructed you to protect Berenice, to keep her from the wrong sort of personages?”

Not waiting for an answer, Mrs. Clively went on. “And what do I find? Common gamesters plunging into the heart of my house. Talking with my granddaughter. Flattering her, turning her head. Do you want the girl to run away with this ...” Mrs. Clively stopped for breath.

“Sir Carleton came to return some of Berenice’s property.”

“Property! You mean this?” From the workbasket at her feet, she brought up the lace confection Sir Carleton had conveyed to Berenice. “You know perfectly well Berenice owns nothing like this.”

“She owns so many things.”

“But not the handkerchief of a harlot! This is an old, old ploy, child. He bought it this morning, at Callendar’s. I sent to inquire. I hope we need never suffer the consequences of allowing such a person into the house.”

Though she’d guessed that Sir Carleton must have had an ulterior motive in lying about the handkerchief, Danita was depressed to learn it so positively. Nevertheless, she tried to soothe Mrs. Clively by saying, “No harm was done. He stayed only a few moments.”

“He had tea!”

“Berenice did offer refreshments.”

“You allowed it. It is your fault.” When Danita did not speak in her own defense, Mrs. Clively unpursed her small mouth and said, “My instructions to you were not precise enough. I suppose I placed too much hope in your discretion. You haven’t enough experience, it seems, to distinguish the proper people from the others, though I would have thought the strange life you led before coming to me would have been experience enough. However, perhaps drapers and low persons of that sort are insufficient preparation for Bath.”

“I ... suppose so.”

“It is for that reason I have decided to allow you to accompany Berenice and me to the Assembly Rooms tomorrow night. You can wear that brown silk. I said at the time it was too fine for daytime, but I see I was right to purchase it for you.”

Because it seemed to be expected of her, Danita said, “Thank you, Mrs. Clively.” She wondered how much longer this interview would last. Her interior seemed empty as an unloaded ship and might began to express itself noisily. If she excused herself to go to her meal, her great-aunt was entirely capable to keep her hunting quite an hour for a lost skein of embroidery silk before finding it herself in the folds of her dress.

“I trust,” Mrs. Clively said, “that further exposure to society will help you to protect Berenice from persons like Sir Carleton Blacklock. Yet, you mustn’t think that just because Berenice is so exquisite that an occasional eye will not fall on you. I am perfectly cognizant of my responsibility for you, child. Don’t allow yourself to be lured away by promises no man would fulfill with someone of no means and only distant family connections.”

“I don’t quite see what you mean, ma’am,” Danita said, disliking her benefactress a little more with each word she spoke. Mrs. Clively had no very high turn of mind, but Danita had never known her to so quickly approach the borders of vulgarity.

 “Sneaking off alone in Sydney Gardens with such a man. A dangerous situation, as I would think you would be aware. Don’t be a fool, Danita.”

So the other woman was in Mrs. Clively’s rooms merely to spread the seeds of scandal. Looking at the still pretty face before her, Danita wondered how many more informants Mrs. Clively spoke to each day. “I was alone and Sir Carleton came to me. I left as soon as I could.”

“Good. But be careful. I shan’t allow Berenice to be corrupted by anyone, not even you.”

“You need never fear for her through me.”

“I hope not. I hope your common sense is strong enough to withstand some plausible fellow’s lies. I think you should swear to me that you will not allow this Sir Carleton to come near to Berenice or yourself ever again.”

“I have said that I will protect Berenice. And Sir Carleton does not interest me on any personal level.” She tried to forget how her arms had reached for him when he had swept her into that teasing embrace. Wondering if her great-aunt’s gossiping friend had seen that, Danita felt her color rise and hoped the other woman did not notice it.

“Nevertheless, you will swear it, child.”

For a moment, Danita hesitated, her tongue between her teeth. “I swear it.”

“I know you will keep that promise. Well, don’t stand over me. If you’ve not eaten, you should. Then come back. I want you to write that letter to my son for me. My hands quite ache. I believe we shall have rain before too many more days are past.”

As Danita went to the door, she hesitated. Perhaps now would be a good moment to bring up a matter she’d been thinking of for some little time. “Ma’am,” she said, turning back.

“What is it? I’m tired.”

“I merely wanted to tell you how grateful I am for all your kindness to me.”

The sharp eyes widened at this. “It was the least I could do for a relation in your unfortunate position.”

“I am aware of your generosity. I don’t wish to impose upon you further.”

 “What do you want? New gloves? A picture for your room? I should think I’ve given you enough.”

“I want for nothing, thank you. Only, I should tell you that I think it best for me to leave you at the end of the summer.” Danita was choosing her words with great care, not wishing to seem ungrateful or give offense.

“Leave? You cannot leave. Where would you go?”

“I had thought of advertising for a position as governess. I am not unused to tuition.”

Mrs. Clively tilted her head, looking at her great-niece narrowly. “I am pleased you have a thought for the future, but I had hoped to rely on you until Berenice is happily settled. After we’ve gone to London to make her come-out, there will be time to speak of this. Don’t trouble me now. I’m too tired.”

“Very well, ma’am.” She made her curtsy and left the room, feeling her lungs were cloyed with Mrs. Clively’s strong perfume.

Danita could not go on as a poor relation, accepting charity without ever any hope of paying back except by cheerful subservience to Mrs. Clively’s every whim. Any doubts about her great-aunt’s cruelty had long ago been resolved. Her relentless picking away under a guise of sweetness at whatever anyone said or did made for an uncomfortable household. She now knew why Lemuel Clively opened the door to his own home. Their servants in Bath only remained because they’d been hired with the house, contenting themselves by frequent grumbling.

Her determination to leave at the end of the summer, fond as she was of Berenice, was only strengthened the next evening at the Assembly Ball. She could not help feeling envious of the elegant gowns and fine jewelry she saw out in the valley of the ballroom beyond the mountains of dowagers. She had been clean and neat before they’d left Number 12, but while waiting for Mrs. Clively to emerge from her sedan chair, the rain had splattered Danita’s silk gown, rendering its plainness hideous.

The long room felt humid from the rain, though the laughing dancers did not seem to mind it. Danita stood against the wall with the other companions. The cream-colored lace mantilla she wore over her piled black hair made her stand out from among them even more than her height did, but it would have been foolish to pluck it off now.

She enjoyed listening to the music, but tried to keep her eyes on Mrs. Clively. Seeing her great-aunt shift in her seat, Danita stepped forward. “Go tell Berenice I want to see her,” Mrs. Clively ordered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Berenice had ended the last dance at the far end of the hall. Mrs. Clively’s eyesight, poor in most respects, had been good enough to see her granddaughter giving serious consideration to the suggestion of a young man to step into a cooler alcove.

“Oh, pooh,” Berenice replied to the summons. “Excuse me, Mr. Fairchild.”

Crossing the floor behind the gauze-draped figure of the debutante, Danita’s steps checked as she recognized Lord Framstead. She smiled at him, changing her expression only when she recollected that she was not supposed to know who he was, having only seen him from behind a door.