Slightly Sinful (33 page)

"I am waltzing," she said.

"You are waltzing," he agreed. "Relax now and let me lead."

She did just that, and soon they were waltzing with tolerable skill, though he did not attempt any fancy steps or twirls. He watched her teeth sink into her lower lip and her smile fade as her eyes remained on his. His arm was about her waist. Her hand rested on his shoulder. Their other hands were clasped. There were only a few inches of space between their bodies. He could feel her body heat. He could smell gardenia.

He had ridden with her, walked with her, even swum with her since that afternoon on the island. But he had scarcely touched her since then and had avoided being close to her like this. She had avoided it too.

But what could they do now? They were waltzing together in the Chesbury ballroom, a few dozen eyes watching them and the other dancers. And yet somehow it seemed as if they were alone, twirling slowly through a magic world that was doomed to disappear soon. After two or three more days, he might never see her again.

Beautiful, beautiful Rachel. His golden angel.

"Well," he asked her after they had danced for several minutes in silence, "what is your verdict on your first ball?"

"It has been magical," she said, echoing his own thought. "It is magical-present tense. It is not over yet."

But he could see her awareness that it almost was. This was a country ball. People in the country did not dance all night as they did in London during the Season, when most of them had nothing to do with themselves all the next day but sleep and get up to socialize again. The ball would end soon after supper-and supper would be served right after the waltz.

A certain light had gone out of her eyes as she gazed at him. And then they were bright again-with tears that she tried to hide by dipping her head sharply downward.

Fortunately they were close to the French windows that opened onto a balcony. He waltzed her through them and stopped by the stone balustrade. The night air felt blessedly cool after the fragrant stuffiness of the ballroom.

"Jonathan," she said, one hand closing about the emerald pendant of her necklace, "I cannot do this any longer."

He knew exactly what she meant and set one hand against the back of her neck.

"It never occurred to me," she said, "that perhaps I would love him. And that perhaps he loved me. It never occurred to me that perhaps there was an explanation for his apparent neglect."

"You ought to have come here when he invited you," he said.

"After my father's death?" She gazed away toward the lake, across which a band of moonlight shone. "I felt bruised and battered. I thought that if he had had any vestiges of feeling left for me, he would have come in person as he did after my mother's death. It did not occur to me that he was ill and could not travel, and I suppose it did not occur to him to let me know. Perhaps he assumed that I already did. His letter seemed abrupt and imperious. It seemed cold."

"If you had come then," he said, "you would not have gone to Brussels and become involved with Crawley. You would not have incurred this sense of deep obligation to your friends. You would not have become involved in this charade."

"And I would not have met you," she added.

"Now there is a thought." He laughed softly. "If you had come here last year when your uncle invited you, I would very probably be dead."

"I think," she said, "I would hate that."

"So would I," he said fervently.

"Look," she said, pointing downward.

There, in a paddock behind the stables, two people were dancing in the moonlight, the man large and somewhat ungainly, the woman tall and voluptuous. Geraldine and Strickland.

"Now there is a match made in heaven," he said before turning to set his back against the balustrade so that he could look more closely into Rachel's face. "So what is your plan?"

"Tomorrow," she said, "I am going to explain to the ladies that I cannot help them, though I will always consider myself in their debt and will repay them when I am able-in three years' time. We are all going to leave here the day after tomorrow without asking Uncle Richard for my jewels. And then, once I have returned to London, I will write to him to tell him the full truth. And I will return this jewelry. You will be free to do what you must do. You will be free to find your family. It has only recently occurred to me that I have wronged them by agreeing to your plan to help me and so keeping you from them a whole month longer than necessary. What pain they must have suffered."

"Why wait until after you leave here?" he asked her. "Your uncle loves you, Rachel. He always has."

She shook her head.

"Let me go to him tomorrow," he said, "and tell him everything. I believe I can break it to him in such a way that he will forgive you. How can he not when he learns that this deception was my suggestion and that you agreed to it only because you love your friends and felt that you owed them a debt of honor? And because your father kept from you all knowledge of Weston's concern for you and his attempts to be an uncle to you. He will understand how intolerable your deception has become to you now that you have had a chance to get to know him and love him. Let me do this for you."

She turned her head to look at him.

"No," she said. "I have got myself into this mess and I will get myself out. I did not have to agree to your suggestion. I am not a mindless puppet."

"Then tell him yourself in person," he said. "Do it tomorrow, Rachel, and trust his love for you. He has loved you all your life."

"It is too late," she said, "I do not deserve anyone's trust. Or anyone's love. I have forfeited both. The music is ending. We must go in to supper, and we must look bright and happy. He is looking happy tonight, is he not? And better than he looked when we first came? We must give him the rest of tonight at least. Or rather I must."

If someone would only be obliging enough to put a gun to his head, Alleyne thought, he would gladly pull the trigger himself.

He offered her his arm.

O NE THING RACHEL HAD NOT EXPECTED, THOUGH she knew that the ball was partly in honor of her marriage, was that there would be speeches and toasts during supper, and a large cake, which she and Jonathan cut and then took from table to table to serve to the guests.

She smiled and smiled and felt sick inside.

She really had used no imagination at all when she had thought this an excellent way of getting her hands on money so that her friends would be free to travel about England in pursuit of revenge.

But there was worse to come. When Rachel and Jonathan finally sat down and there was a stir among the guests in preparation for a return to the ballroom and the final few sets of the evening, Uncle Richard got to his feet again and held up his hands for silence. It fell almost instantly.

"I think it appropriate," he said, "to make this announcement publicly, though I did originally intend to inform my niece and nephew-in-law privately of it tomorrow. It does in a sense concern the whole neighborhood after all. It is probably general knowledge that I am the last male of my line and that my title will die with me when the time comes. But fortunately my estate and fortune are mine to leave where I will, since they are unentailed. There is a distant cousin on my mother's side whom I have long considered, though he lives in Ireland and I have not met him above two or three times in my life. I always did intend to leave a sizable portion of my fortune to my niece, Rachel, Lady Jonathan Smith, of course, since she is my closest relative. But I have got to know her and have grown to love her dearly during the past few weeks, and I have got to know Sir Jonathan as a steady, dependable young man with an obvious and intelligent interest in the land. I have made arrangements to rewrite my will tomorrow. My niece will inherit everything after my days are done."

Rachel did not hear the swell of interest and the applause that followed the announcement. She could hear only a buzzing in her ears as her head turned icy cold. She was about to faint, she realized. She bowed her head forward and covered her face with both hands while she felt Jonathan's hand against the back of her neck. She drew a few steadying breaths.

Her uncle was standing beside her when she lifted her head again. She got to her feet and hugged him wordlessly while there was a murmur of approval from the guests and another smattering of applause.

"It is what will make me happy, Rachel," he said, beaming at her as he set her at arm's length. "Happier than anything in the world."

"I don't want you to d-d-die," she said before wrapping her arms about his neck and burying her face on his shoulder.

But she wanted to, she thought suddenly. She just wanted to die.

Rachel never afterward knew how she got through the rest of the evening. But she did, smiling and laughing with strangers, assiduously avoiding everyone she knew. She concentrated upon being the radiant bride, and-heaven help her-she succeeded.

She also succeeded in hurrying up to her room in the flurry of activity that followed the departure of all the guests. But she had reckoned without her friends' total lack of consideration for closed doors-and there were not even any of those between her bedchamber and Jonathan's. Within a few minutes of her arrival they were all there-Bridget, Flossie, Geraldine, and Phyllis crowded into her dressing room, Sergeant Strickland in the archway, his arms crossed over his great chest.

"Well, Rache," Geraldine said, "now you are in a pickle."

"We did not even hear about it at the time on account of we were outside," the sergeant said with what in a lesser man might have been construed as a blush. "Geraldine and me, I mean. We was looking at the horses."

"We were dancing, Will," she said. "And then we were kissing. And then we came inside and Phyll told us."

"My love," Bridget said, "we had better go away from here."

"Away?" Phyllis looked blank. "Away, Bridge? Who is going to cook for the baron?"

"I came here to ask for my inheritance," Rachel said. "It seemed so logical at the time to pretend I was married and to bring my supposed husband with me so that Uncle Richard would be persuaded that I could be trusted with my jewels. I wanted desperately to be able to help you all find Mr. Crawley and to repay you what he stole from you. Now I cannot do it-any of it. We are going-"

"Just a moment, Rachel." Flossie held up a hand. "What is this about repaying us? You were going to give back what he took? When he used you so ill and took everything you had too? Are you daft?"

"Without me," Rachel said, "you would not even have met him."

"Rachel, my love," Bridget said, "we would not even think of taking a penny from you beyond what we planned to borrow for our journeys until we could pay it back."

"I would think not," Geraldine said, hands on hips. "Do you have windmills in your head, Rache? You did not steal the money from us."

Phyllis hurried across the small room and caught Rachel up in a tight hug.

"But the thought was beautiful, Rachel," she said. "Do you know how long it is since anyone had a beautiful thought about us girls? And this has been beautiful-this stay at Chesbury Park. I have been happier here than I have been anywhere else my whole life. I think we all have. And we have you to thank for such a splendid holiday. So don't you go adding guilt about us to your other woes."

"But what woes they are, Rache," Geraldine said.

"What you need to do, missy," Sergeant Strickland said, "not that you have asked me and not that it is my business to say anything anyway on account of I am only a one-eyed gentleman's gentleman and not a very good one yet into the bargain-but what you need to do, missy, and you too, sir, though you have gone into your bedchamber instead of coming to face the music out here. What you need to do is get married for real, and then everything will be solved."

"It would be wonderfully romantic," Phyllis said. "You are quite right, Will."

"No," Rachel said firmly. "That is not an option. I intend to put everything right in the next little while and then I am going to sort out my life. The last thing I need is a forced marriage. And it is the very last thing Jonathan needs. I will work things out."

Though heaven knew how. Uncle Richard had looked so happy. She had not even known that his property and fortune were unentailed. She had not even given the matter a thought.

The ladies had plenty more to say, but Rachel did not listen. Sergeant Strickland retreated into the other dressing room, and finally the four ladies went on their way, all talking at once after hugging Rachel. And then Geraldine remembered that she was Rachel's maid and came back to undress her and brush out her hair.

It seemed like forever before Rachel was alone and able to crawl off to bed and pull the bedcovers up over her head.

CHAPTER XIX

A N HOUR OR SO AFTER SERGEANT STRICKLAND had finally left for the night, his silence loud with disapproval and unspoken advice, Alleyne was still standing at the window of his bedchamber, staring out into the moonlit park. He doubted Rachel was sleeping either.

He wondered if he should go to Weston in the morning without her knowledge. But he doubted he would. He had done enough to harm her without taking away her freedom to deal with this matter herself, as she clearly wished to do.