Encounter with Venus (21 page)

“No? Why not?”

“Because I know you didn’t do the deed in the hope of being rewarded. You just said it was an extemporaneous act. You didn’t plan it, so you couldn’t have anticipated a reward.”

“Perhaps I didn’t at the time,” he said with a wicked leer, “but I intend to take advantage of it now.”

She shook her head in smiling disapproval. “What sort of reward did you have in mind?”

He shrugged. “Nothing very costly, as rewards go. Something simple, like agreeing to go riding with me, for example.”

She stiffened. “No, I’m sorry, George. That reward is too costly for me.”

“Going riding with me is too costly?” The amused gleam in his eyes died at once. “Are you saying that the thought of going riding with me is so repugnant that it can’t be considered even as a small thank you?”

She lowered her eyes but did not answer.

“But evidently you are perfectly willing to go riding with Horace, isn’t that so?” he accused.

She rose from her chair, the epitome of offended dignity. “Horace did not request my company as a payment of a debt,” she said in a voice from which all the warmth of a moment ago was gone.

“Damnation, Livy, the debt business was a joke, and you know it.”

“Then I need not consider your invitation seriously.”

“Of course you should. My phrasing may have been unfortunate, but my desire to take you riding is perfectly sincere.”

“And so is my refusal.”

“But why?” Bewildered, he got to his feet and grasped her shoulders. “You can’t pretend you prefer Horace’s company to mine. I’ve seen you with him. You barely tolerate him.”

“My feelings for Horace, or for anyone else,” she said icily, throwing off his hold on her, “are not your affair.”

“Dash it, Livy,” he swore in frustration, “why can I never get you to soften toward me? Why does every one of our encounters, no matter how well they start, end in this kind of ... of cold dismissal?”

She turned away from him, nonplussed. She’d meant to thank him, not to quarrel. “I don’t...” she began. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Georgie,” came Felicia’s voice from the doorway, “will you stay to dine?”

“No,” George said sourly, throwing Livy one last look and stalking to the door, “I don’t think I’m wanted.”

TWENTY-NINE

Leyton was asleep, but Felicia lay beside him wide awake and staring at the reflection of the firelight flickering on the ceiling. “I don’t believe it,” she said aloud.

“Hmmmm?” Leyton tried not to wake up. He pulled the comforter up over his ears and turned on his side, away from her.

“I said I don’t believe it,” Felicia repeated, loud enough this time to indicate that she expected a response.

Leyton burrowed into his pillow. “Mmmm,” was his sleepy response.

“Montague Leyton,” his wife snapped, “I’m trying to speak to you!”

Leyton sighed. When his wife addressed him with his given name, he knew his goose was cooked. “What don’t y’ b’lieve?” he muttered sleepily.

“That George cares for her. It’s not possible.”

“ ‘S very possible,” Leyton said, still hoping to avoid a confrontation. “Go t’ sleep.”

“How can I sleep when you make me fear that my brother has lost his mind?”

Leyton sighed again and gave up. “I never said he’d lost his mind,” he declared, sitting up and rubbing his eyes to wake himself properly.

“But you said you thought he was taken with Livy.” Felicia turned to her husband worriedly. “Doesn’t that mean he’s lost his mind?”

“Not at all. Livy is a lovely woman. Why shouldn’t he care for her?”

“Good God, Leyton, she’s eight years older than he! It’s unheard of!”

“It’s unusual, I admit, but there’s no law against it. Besides, do you think, when I first looked at you, that I said to myself, ‘Ah, she’s two years younger than I, so I’ll fall in love with her?’ “

Felicia giggled. “What
did
you think when you first looked at me?” she asked, sitting up and snuggling into his shoulder.

“I thought,” Leyton said, kissing her forehead, “ ‘That young lady over there is wearing the most ridiculous hat I ever saw.’“

“Oh, fiddle!” Felicia slapped him playfully on his shoulder. “Tell me really.”

Leyton, recollecting the moment, smiled in the darkness. “You were talking to one of my old school chums when I first saw you. Laughing with him in the most natural way, not in the least put off by his being on crutches. I thought you beautiful and charming and kind, and I immediately decided to marry you. If I could manage to win you, of course.”

“Is that true? You decided at first glance that you wanted to marry me?”

“Yes. And I didn’t care a whit how old you were.”

Felicia grew thoughtful. “But, dearest, Livy is
thirty-five.
She’s well past the flush of youth. Why should George choose her, when he could have his choice of any young beauty in London?”

“He’s had that choice for years, hasn’t he? Yet he hasn’t chosen any one of them.”

“That’s true. I’ve often wondered why. I told myself that he wasn’t ready to settle down.”

“Perhaps he just hadn’t met the right woman,” Leyton suggested.

“And you think Livy is the right woman?”

“I think George thinks it.”

Felicia, her brow knotted, moved away from him.

“You said a moment ago that Livy is lovely. But I had the impression that men found her plain. Sort of... spinsterish.”

“Horace doesn’t seem to find her so. And neither does your brother.”

Felicia looked at him closely. “And neither do you, evidently.”

“No, I don’t. I think she has a lovely face. A bit chiseled, perhaps, at the cheekbones, but interesting and intelligent and brightened by a pair of very speaking eyes. It’s a face one doesn’t forget.”

“Does one forget mine?” Felicia asked in a small voice.

Leyton frowned at her. “That’s a silly question, my love, and quite beneath you. To me, your face is perfect. But I can’t speak for others. Every man sees differently, according to his nature.”

Felicia, chastened, snuggled back into his shoulder. “So it’s perfectly possible that George is in love with Livy,” she said in pensive acceptance. “But that means that I now have to wonder if Livy is in love with him.”

“That, dearest, is another problem altogether, and if you’ll forgive me for pointing it out, none of our affair. However, since I’m now wide awake, perhaps you might consider dealing with our own love affair.” With that, he pulled her back down with him under the covers, thus bringing the discussion to a very satisfactory conclusion.

THIRTY

Horace was convinced that his outing with Livy had been a very successful affair. With a winter sun shining softly through a thin veil of clouds, the day had been pleasant enough for a leisurely drive through Hyde Park. A number of his acquaintances, all well dressed and prosperous-looking, had passed by and greeted him cordially, making him believe that Livy must have been impressed by his apparent popularity and importance. By the time he brought her home, he was quite pleased with himself.

Livy, however, had not found the afternoon as pleasant as he. She did not like to admit it, but she’d found his company tedious. He was humorless, self-important, and excessively formal. Even his manner of addressing her was pompous. Although she’d invited him to call her Livy, he’d insisted that such informality was not properly respectful. “I’d be honored to call you Miss Olivia, if you’ll permit it,” he’d compromised. With such a man, carrying on a conversation was a strain. By the time she’d said good-bye and hurried into the house, she was relieved to be free of him.

Felicia, who’d been watching for her, greeted her at the door. “Come and have some tea with me,” she insisted. “I want to hear all about your drive.”

By the time Kelby brought in the tea and a platter of assorted tea sandwiches, Livy had given her friend all the details of the ride through the park. Felicia poured the tea in silence, dredging up the courage to tackle the subject that she and Leyton had discussed the night before. As she handed her friend the cup, she took a breath and asked, “Do you like him?”

“Horace?” Livy gave an indifferent shrug. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Enough to wish him to pursue you?”

Livy glanced up at Felicia curiously. “Are you asking the question because you want me to wish it?”

“I ask it because I want you to be happy.”

Livy stirred her tea. “Horace is not the sort to make me happy, Felicia,” she answered frankly.

“Good. I didn’t think he was. You deserve someone more special.” She pretended an intent interest in choosing a sandwich while she remarked casually, “Someone like George.”

“George?”
Livy felt her cup rattle in the saucer. “Whatever has George to do with me?”

“Leyton thinks he may have a tendre for you.”

“For
me?”
She couldn’t believe her ears. “Whatever gave him such a ridiculous idea?”

“I don’t know. But the idea is not so ridiculous.”

“It is. Utterly ridiculous.”

Felicia, beginning to suspect that her friend was denying her true feelings, inched her chair forward. “You know, Livy, that Leyton is very perceptive about people. Very perceptive.”

Livy tried to steady her hand. “I think he’s missed the mark this time.”

Felicia sat back again and crossed her arms over her chest. “Your hand is shaking,” she pointed out.

Livy gulped. “I know.” She set down the cup and saucer as if they were burning her fingers.

“Are you in love with my brother, dearest?” Felicia asked. The question was blunt, but her voice was tenderly sympathetic.

The sympathy in Felicia’s tone undid Livy. She covered her face with her hands. “Yes, more fool I,” she admitted tearfully.

“Don’t say that. My brother is very lovable.”

“Yes, he is. But not a good match for a thirty-five-year-old spinster.”

“Leyton says that men don’t ask a woman’s age when they fall in love.”

Livy lowered her hand and wiped her eyes. “That may be, but if he’s speaking of George, he’s quite wrong.”

“Why do you say that? How can you be so sure of how he feels? If Leyton believes George cares for you, he must have seen some signs of it. Even I’ve noticed how he singled you out at the Abbey and how he enjoyed engaging you in conversation. And you yourself told me that he stood up for you with your uncle.”

“All that is true. He likes me. I, too, was confused by his attentions at first. But you know your brother. He is good-natured and warm to everyone. And he does like me. He does! As a man would like a ... a maiden aunt!”

“A maiden aunt?” Felicia was appalled. “Good God!”

The response disappointed Livy. Felicia’s expression indicated shock but not disbelief. Livy had hoped that Felicia would argue the matter; that she’d say,
No, Livy, you’re quite wrong. My brother, good-natured as he is, would not go to such lengths to please a maiden aunt.
But Felicia did not say that. She did not try to convince Livy that she was wrong. In fact, the opposite had happened: she, Livy, had convinced Felicia that she was right. “Yes, a m-maiden aunt,” she said miserably, covering her face again to hide the tears that began to drip from her eyes. “Someone toward whom he f-feels k-kindly and p-protective and even f-fond. But th-that’s all.”

Felicia was indeed convinced. Her good-natured brother probably did like Livy, but liking was a far cry from loving. As much as she would have liked to believe that her brother could fall in love with her best friend, it was unlikely. That he admired her and was fond of her, yes, but there was probably not more to it than that.

Felicia, looking across the tea table to where Livy was trying pathetically to hide her tears, felt a rush of sympathy. Livy was a wonderful, admirable, lovely woman and deserved to be married. It wasn’t fair! Breaking into empathetic tears, Felicia rose from her chair and knelt beside her friend. “Don’t c-cry, dearest, p-please don’t cry,” she urged, taking Livy’s hand. “Perhaps we sh-shouldn’t write Horace off. He’s really a g-good man. Do you think you might f-find it in your heart to t-take to him after all?”

THIRTY-ONE

“
Bernard has the idea that you paraded your friends before him in order to pass him on to one of them.
”
Harriet brooded over those words all night. By morning she believed she fully understood their significance. She dressed and went down to breakfast, her course of action completely determined. She said nothing to her mother about her plans, but as soon as she could do so without being noticed, she slipped out of the house and strode quickly down the few streets between her house and Bernard’s rooms in Providence Court.

Pratkin, of course, heard her come in and ran to bar her way. “He’s not seeing visitors today,” he told her, trying to reach the foot of the stairway before her.