Sins (19 page)

Quite plainly her aunt must have felt that she couldn’t trust her. Pain and betrayal, they were both so hard to bear now.

Rose had feared her father. She had wanted him to love her so desperately but he had always rejected her. Had he loved John’s mother? Had he rejected her because secretly he had longed for the son he could never claim? There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but for John’s sake she must never utter them.

Oddly, the pain she felt came not from knowing that she must relinquish and repudiate her love for John–she could, after all, still love him but now it must be as a sister’s love for a brother–but from feeling that the person she had trusted the most had betrayed her. The sense of closeness she had always felt towards Amber had been damaged, and instead of feeling that she had someone in her life that she would always be able to turn to, Rose felt dreadfully alone.

It would have been so wonderful to have grown up with John as her brother; he was everything that a big brother should be. Was it too fanciful of her to think that perhaps instinctively a part of her had always recognised
that in him, and perhaps he had even protected her because he too had sensed that there was a special bond between them?

But John wouldn’t really want her as a half-sister. He believed himself to be a Fitton Legh. He was proud of his family’s history and of his name. If he could choose between being Lord Fitton Legh’s son or her father’s, Rose knew which he would choose, and who could blame him? Lady Fitton Legh was right: for John’s sake no doubt must be put on his parentage. Another betrayal; another rejection of her, even though John was unaware of it.

Learning that John could be her half-brother had changed the way she felt about him completely. Her childhood crush, the longing she had believed she had felt for him, had been destroyed by the revulsion she had felt at the thought of having such emotions for someone so closely related to her by blood. Now, instead of looking back and wishing that just once John might have held her and kissed her, she was fiercely glad that he had not. The very thought of anything like that happening between them made her shake with horror. Both of them had been saved from that awfulness, and she was grateful for that.

Rose felt like someone who had somehow escaped from the most dreadful fate, shaken, weak, horrified, but relieved, and determined to swear that they would never ever allow themselves to risk such a circumstance in future.

‘You’ll never guess what I heard last night at Lucy Carstairs’ supper party, Emerald. The Duke of Kent is spending virtually every weekend in Yorkshire visiting Katharine Worsley, only it’s all supposed to be very hush-hush at the moment, because no one’s supposed to know officially that he’s seeing her. Poor you, Emerald, and you thought that he would fall for you. No wonder he won’t be at your ball tonight; he’s far too busy in Yorkshire.’ Gwendolyn tittered in malicious satisfaction as she dropped her bombshell.

She might be seething inside but Emerald wasn’t going to give Gwendolyn the satisfaction of seeing that. Instead she forced a smile and told her lightly, ‘Oh, yes, I know all about Miss Worsley. The duke mentioned her to me.’

‘But, Emerald, you were going to marry him,’ Lydia protested. ‘How can he be seeing someone else?’

‘Perhaps His Royal Highness didn’t know about Emerald’s plans for his future,’ Gwendolyn suggested. ‘What a shame, Emerald. You aren’t going to be a princess now after all.’

‘What makes you think that? The Duke of Kent isn’t
the only prince in the world, you know,’ Emerald pointed out sharply, whilst a horrid feeling of anxiety gripped her stomach. If what Gwendolyn was saying was true–and Emerald knew that it must be–then she had made a complete fool of herself and pretty soon, thanks to Gwendolyn’s wagging tongue, everyone would know that. If there was one thing Emerald couldn’t bear, it was being made to look a fool. All she could hope was that by some miracle Gwendolyn would not say anything about her boast that she would marry the Duke of Kent. But she certainly wasn’t going to beg her not to do so; Gwendolyn would love that.

The three girls were standing together in their ball gowns of which, naturally, Emerald’s was the most outstanding. It was the custom that débutantes’ ball gowns were either white or the very palest colour, but whilst Lydia and Gwendolyn were both wearing white, Emerald’s gown was silver gauze over a lilac silk underdress, the silver gauze sewn with sequins that caught the light from the ballroom’s chandeliers.

‘Mummy says that it’s definitely going to be the ball of the season,’ Lyddy confided excitedly to Emerald. ‘Oh, look, there’s Dougie.’

Before Emerald could stop her she had waved him over, greeting him with a hug and telling him, ‘Oh Dougie, you do look smart in your evening clothes, doesn’t he, Emerald?’

As she opened her mouth to say that, no he didn’t, Emerald realised with a small jolt of shock that in fact Lydia was right: unexpectedly Dougie did look smart.

‘Any fool can buy himself a decent suit,’ she responded, ‘but that doesn’t turn him into a gentleman.’

‘Oh, Emerald, that isn’t fair,’ Lydia objected, but Dougie laughed and shook his head.

‘It’s all right, Lyddy,’ he told the younger girl. ‘I don’t want to be a gentleman.’

‘That’s just as well because you never will be one,’ Emerald snapped. Why didn’t he go away? She hated having him standing there, towering over her.

Emerald certainly looked the part tonight, Dougie acknowledged. And there was no doubt whose ball it was, even though officially the occasion was supposed to be for all three girls. Dougie felt rather sorry for Gwendolyn, who had already confided to him that Emerald wasn’t always as kind to her as she might be.

‘Emerald is in a dreadful strop,’ Gwendolyn informed him, giving Emerald a sly look. ‘She was expecting the Duke of Kent to be here. She wants to marry him because that will make her a duchess, but he’s seeing someone else.’

Emerald decided that she had never hated anyone as much as she hated Gwendolyn right now, not even Rose.

‘Sounds like he made a wise move not being here,’ Dougie responded casually over the sound of Emerald’s exhaled breath.

‘Did you hear that, Emerald?’ Gwendolyn demanded. ‘Dougie thinks the duke is right not to want to marry you.’

Dougie groaned inwardly. He had really gone and put his foot in it now. Emerald’s eyes were glittering with fury as she looked from his face to Gwendolyn’s.

Lyddy, as always oblivious to the undercurrents going on around her, exclaimed sympathetically, ‘It’s such a shame that he didn’t come, Emerald, especially when
you wanted him to so much. But Dougie’s here and he can dance with you instead. Oh!’ She looked at them both excitedly. ‘I’ve just thought, wouldn’t it be the most romantic thing if you ended up falling in love with one another and getting married? You would be a duchess then, Emerald, and—’

‘Marry
him
, an Australian farmer?’ Emerald’s voice was icy with contempt. ‘Never.’

Dougie had had enough. He had his pride, after all. ‘Too right,’ he agreed, deliberately thickening his Australian accent. ‘Not that there’s a chance in hell of my ever asking you to marry me. No wonder the Duke of Kent isn’t here. I don’t blame him. A bloke would have to be desperate to marry you, Emerald.’

Emerald turned on her heel and stalked off, leaving Lyddy looking upset and flustered, whilst Gwendolyn was tittering.

‘Emerald, I’d like a word with you.’

Emerald glowered at her mother, who was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs as she came down from her bedroom where she had gone to smoke a cigarette and reapply her lipstick. Emerald could guess what was coming from the unusually stern tone of her mother’s voice, as she drew her to one side of the ballroom so that they could talk privately, out of earshot of their guests.

‘What’s all this nonsense I’ve been hearing about you boasting that you are going to marry the Duke of Kent?’

Emerald knew who to blame. ‘I suppose Gwendolyn’s said something, has she?’ She gave a dismissive shrug.
‘It was just a joke, but Gwendolyn took it seriously. She’s so silly.’

‘Perhaps, but I’m afraid you could easily find that your joke has backfired on you, Emerald. Now, whilst you’re here I’d like to remind you what I said about your attitude towards Dougie. Your lack of kindness towards him reflects more badly on you than it does on him, you know, and I shouldn’t be surprised, should you continue to behave as you are doing, if by the end of the season you are a very unpopular girl indeed. I really am disappointed in you, Emerald. When you were growing up I tried to teach you how important it is to be kind to those who have less than you do.’

‘You mean by pushing Rose in front of me all the time and fussing over her as though she was your daughter and not me? Why should I be kind to someone like her? She’s just Uncle Greg’s bastard by his Chinese mistress. I’m the daughter of a duke.’

Her mother was doing it again: making her feel small and insignificant, and trying to humiliate her. Well, she would show her that she was better than her, she would show them all.

Without giving her mother the chance to say anything, Emerald picked up the long skirt of her gown and stormed off, her head so full of angry thoughts that she didn’t see Alessandro until she had almost bumped into him.

‘You are upset. What is it? What is wrong?’

On the point of pushing past him, Emerald stopped and looked at him. Alessandro was a year younger than she, and immature in many ways, for all his good looks
and royal status, thanks, Emerald suspected, to his mother’s overprotective concern for him. Normally she would have dismissed him without a thought, but now an idea had come to her, a way of revenging herself on all those who thought they could humiliate her.

‘Nothing is wrong,’ she answered softly, giving him a deliberately sensual look as she added, ‘Not now that you are here.’

She could see the effect she was having on him. His face was flushed, and he moved towards her, reaching for her hand and clasping it in his own when she allowed him to take it.

The band were tuning up for the first dance–the dance she had planned to take with the Duke of Kent, and which her mother expected her to dance with Dougie. Well, she wasn’t going to.

‘Would you like to dance with me?’ she asked Alessandro, moving closer to him as she did so and giving him a provocative smile as she ran her fingertip down his arm. It amused her to see him tremble visibly.

‘You want me to partner you for the first dance?’ His voice was thick with excitement.

‘Yes, I want you to partner me,’ Emerald agreed with deliberate emphasis on the word ‘partner’, before, right on cue, the band struck up and she slid into his arms.

She was the daughter of a duke, she was the most beautiful girl here tonight, she deserved to be fêted and praised and adored, and she would be. Her mother had told her that she must start the dancing with Dougie as her partner because he was the new duke–well, she certainly wasn’t going to do that now, Emerald thought
triumphantly as she danced past Dougie and her mother, in Alessandro’s arms.

The dance floor was filling up, allowing Emerald to press deliberately closer to Alessandro. It gave her another thrill of triumph to feel the way his body trembled against her own. She might still be a virgin but she would never have allowed a man to know that she was so vulnerable to him, no matter how much she desired him. Poor Alessandro, though, couldn’t control himself or conceal what he was feeling. She could feel his hot breath against her forehead, and was glad that he was wearing gloves because she guessed that his hands would be sticky with excitement. His obvious desire for her gave her back her confidence. She leaned into him, her breasts pressed against his chest, as she lifted her hand to caress the back of his neck.

His shuddered, ‘
Adorata
’, would have made her laugh out aloud at any other time, he was so ridiculously foreign. But he was also a prince, a proper prince with his own country to rule, a prince who could make her a princess.

‘You must not say such things to me.’ She pretended to chide him, adopting a soft, almost nervous voice.

‘I cannot help myself,’ Alessandro told her, holding her tightly. ‘You are my adored one. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you, but never until tonight did I dare to dream that I might hold you like this.’

How modest his dreams were, Emerald thought cynically as she gave him a calculating look from beneath her lowered eyelashes. Her plans were far more ambitious.

Dougie stood watching Emerald. What was she up to now? The duchess had been mortified by Emerald’s
behaviour and the fact that she had opened her ball with someone else, Dougie knew, but for himself he wasn’t particularly bothered. In fact, he was rather relieved that he hadn’t had to dance with her. She’d have been bound to find something in his dancing to complain about.

Watching her now as she danced past him, held tight in Alessandro’s arms, Dougie looked at the obviously besotted young man and muttered under his breath, ‘Good luck to you, cobber. You’re going to need it.’

‘What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing, because it’s as plain as the nose on my face that something’s up.’

Rose gave Josh a wan smile. They were sitting opposite one another in the Kardomah coffee bar near the Peter Jones department store, in one of the small dark polished-wood booths that always reminded her of church pews. The scent of the freshly roasted coffee beans filled the air, mingling with the smell of cigarettes.

‘I can’t tell you,’ Rose answered him. ‘Someone else is involved and—’

‘You’re not up the duff, are you?’ Josh interrupted her, explaining when she gave him a blank look, ‘You’re not pregnant?’

‘No,’ she told him truthfully, but the irony of his question touched a nerve, and before she could stop them, tears had filled her eyes.

Immediately Josh looked both concerned and uncomfortable. At any other time his look of acute embarrassment would have made her smile.