The Magnificent Masquerade (15 page)

"Greg? Somethin' th' matter?" Toby
asked, blinking and swaying on unsteady legs. "What've I done now?"
Edgerton glared at him and then let him fall back on the bed. "It's what
you haven't done, you cursed jackanapes!

Why aren't you courting the girl? Every time I
come across her, the poor chit is alone! If she were merely an ordinary guest
in this house, she'd have a right to expect more attention than she's been
given, but the girl is more than that. She expects to be your betrothed,
confound it! What must she be thinking? If this is the sort of neglect she has
to endure in the courting period, what can she be expecting of the marriage?
That you'll send her an occasional letter from distant parts and pay her a
visit every Christmas?"

"Is it my fault she's a bore?" Toby
muttered in sullen self defense.

"She is not a bore. She is just a bit shy.
You can't expect a young girl without experience to shine in strange
surroundings, especially when you've made it clear you're disappointed in her.
She needs drawing out, that's all."

Toby ruffled up his hair with despairing hands.
"Dash it all, Greg, I don't know how to draw her out!"

"That's rubbish. You've plenty of
experience flirting with females. Just spend some time with. her and see what
happens."

"How can I spend time with her? She don't
do anything."

"What do you mean by that? What have you
asked her to do that she couldn't?"

"She don't play cards, for one thing. The
girl admitted to me that she'd never even played silver-loo!"

"She's cozening you. Lord Birkinshaw's
daughter never played silver-loo? Impossible!"

"But that's what she said. And when I
offered to go riding with her yesterday, she said she didn't ride."

"Didn't ride?" Greg's brows rose in
astonishment. "That really is rubbish! Birkinshaw once told me that at the
age of twelve the little minx stole a gelding from his stables and, dressed up
like a tiger, raced the animal through the five o'clock crush at Hyde Park so
skillfully that the Regent sent an offer to hire her for his own stables. When
he heard that the impressive tiger was none other than Birkinshaw's daughter,
he invited the child to ride with him the very next morning." Toby threw
up his hands in a gesture of utter confusion. "Then why did she say she
didn't ride?"

"I don't know. There's a great deal about Miss
Kitty Jessup that puzzles me, I admit. Perhaps Birkinshaw said some idiotic
thing to her to make her fearful of us. We'll get to the bottom of it one of
these days." He sat down beside his brother and put an arm over his
shoulder. "But in the mean time, Toby, do your best to entertain the girl.
Talk to her. Take her riding, even if she says she doesn't ride. Tell her
you'll teach her. If you make her feel at home, she'll be more likely to show
her true colors. It's already plain to me that she's out of the ordinary. If
you give her a chance, she may make it plain to you, too."

Toby made a face. "I'll give it a try,
Greg. But if it would come to pass that I find her out of the ordinary, it'd be
a blasted miracle!"

Chapter Fourteen

Emily had been playing Beethoven for more than
an hour, completely absorbed and happy, when something-a breath, a slight
movement, a change in the air-made her aware of another presence in the room.
Startled, she whirled about on the bench. "Oh," she said, stiffening,
"it's you." The intruder was Toby, ensconced in a high-backed easy
chair, his feet raised on an ottoman and his hands tucked comfortably behind
his head. "Don't stop on my account," he urged. "Go on with your
playing."

"No, thank you," she said, getting up
quickly. "I've quite Finished”

"That's not so." He, too, got to his
feet. "You've got to learn not to tell so many whiskers, my girl. If you
hadn't discovered my presence here, you would have gone on playing for some
time, wouldn't you? Tell the truth, now, Miss Jessup. Wouldn't you?"

She put up her chin proudly. "Perhaps I
would. But if we're going to tell the truth, then you can't pretend you wish to
sit there and listen to me play, can you?"

"Really the truth?" He rubbed his
chin ruefully. "Well, then, I admit that I ain't musical and that I don't
go out of my way to attend concerts and musicales. And I really abhor being
stuck for an evening listening to a gaggle of females sing in their high,
quivery sopranos while their mamas beam and beg 'em to sing `just one more
little tune, my love." But I've been sitting here for quite some time
listening to you, and I must say that I was very impressed with how quick your
fingers dance over those keys and how grand the sounds are that you bring out
of that old instrument."

"Thank you, sir," Emily said-with a
slight, acknowledging bow, "that was the kindest thing you ever said to
me. But how much time was the 'quite some time' that you've been
listening?"

"About fifteen minutes," Toby said.
Then he shrugged. "Well, perhaps it was ten."

"Or perhaps five?"

He grinned. "Very well, five."

"Five minutes can be a long time for
someone who isn't musical to listen to Beethoven, so I'll spare you any more.
If you'll excuse me, sir, I shall leave you in peace."

He reached out and took her arm. "Don't go
yet, Miss Jessup. I've come down particularly to seek your companion
ship."

She looked at him suspiciously. "Have you
stopped speaking the truth so soon? I'm quite aware that you've been avoiding
me for two days. You've told me to my face that you find me a bore. So why have
you suddenly come seeking my companionship?"

He grimaced ruefully. "Must I tell the
truth again?"

"It usually is best."

"Well, then, the truth is that Greg
ordered me to."

"That's what I thought." She tried to
ease her arm from his grip. "There was not the least need for your brother
to coerce you, sir. I am perfectly content with my own company. Please consider
yourself absolved from your obligations to me, and let me go."

"I will, of course, if you insist. But I
wish you'd relent and sit down with me. We'll make a strange marriage if we
can't even speak to one another."

Emily felt her cheeks blanch.
"M-marriage?" she stammered.

His eyebrow rose. "Yes, marriage.
Nuptials. Wedlock. Does my speaking the words frighten you? Or is it the
thought of the actual deed that turns you pale?"

"I .. . I don't know." She turned a
pair of frightened eyes up to his face. "You are so ... blunt. I didn't
expect ..." She paused and bit her lip.

"Didn't expect me to mention it? Good God,
Miss Jessup, didn't you think we'd even talk about it? Why do you think you're
here?"

Her eyes fell. "Well, perhaps I should sit
down with you after all," she said with a surrendering sigh.

He led her to the armchair he'd been sitting in
and gallantly handed her into it. Then he perched himself on the ottoman.
"There, that's better. Now, then, shall we jump right to it and talk about
our marriage, or would you rather make some innocent chit-chat first? Come,
come, Miss Jessup, say some thing." When she still didn't say anything, he
leaned forward and added encouragingly, "I know one thing we can speak of
right away, and that is your name."

She threw him another frightened glance.
"My name?"

"Yes. Do you expect me to call you Miss
Jessup until our wedding day, or may I begin to call you by your given name? It
seems to me we'd make real progress toward a more comfortable intimacy if we
call each other Toby and Kitty."

Emily shifted in her seat. She knew she had to
say something, but she didn't have any idea of how to conduct this interview.
What was her attitude toward the marriage plan supposed to be? Was she to
behave as if she accepted the wedding intentions with enthusiasm or as if she
was only reluctantly acceding to the authority of her parents? Or should she
act as if she had every intention of rejecting the plan in the end? Good
heavens, she asked herself, why hadn't she and Kitty discussed these questions
before? Meanwhile, Toby was sitting before her with his brows arched expectantly,
waiting for a response. "I have no objection to your calling me
Kitty," she said cautiously.

"Good," he said, "but-?"

"But?"

"I heard a but in your voice. What else
did you want to say?" He waited a moment, but when he got no response, he
jumped to his feet in annoyance. "I don't know why you're so afraid to say
what's on your mind, Kitty. We Wisharts are not monsters, you know. We won't
eat you."

"I know that. You must understand that it
is difficult for me to speak of our ... our marriage when I know that you don't
desire it."

"But I do desire it," he said,
seating himself again. "You must be joking! You know you don't like me at
all." Now it was his eyes which fell. "I wouldn't say that, exactly.
I like you well enough right now ... now that we're being honest with each
other like this."

"If we're being so honest, then admit that
you'd never have chosen me if you were left to your own devices. You certainly
can't believe that we'd suit."

"I'm not sure what I believe. Perhaps we
might." "What folderol! Name one way in which we might possibly suit!
We've already eliminated music ..."

He shrugged. "And games. And sports. But
there are more important things that bring a man and wife together. Building a
home ... having babies ..."

Emily gasped. "Babies!" The thought
of having Toby's babies brought a surge of color to her cheeks.

"Good God, you're blushing," he
exclaimed, teasing. "You are a prude."

"Yes, I am! Babies, indeed. How can you
speak of having babies with a woman you don't even like?"

"That's jumping to a conclusion much too
early in the game, my dear. I might like you a great deal in that way.

Having babies together is certainly one way in
which we might suit very well. We haven't tested ourselves in that direction
yet."

"Tested ourselves? How could we possibly
test ourselves?" Then, with a sudden gasp, she stared at him with
revulsion.

"Unless I misunderstand you, sir, you are
making an utterly vulgar suggestion. So vulgar that I shall have to leave this
room at-"

He chortled. "You do misunderstand me,
Kitty. I only meant that we haven't tested our compatibility at kissing."

Color flooded her cheeks again.
"K-kissing?" "Kissing. You have heard of it, I trust? One
presses one's lips to the lips of one's betrothed ... or one's sweetheart ...
and if the sensation is a pleasant one, the pair may consider themselves to be
'suited' for marriage in one of the most important ways."

"Bosh! No one can interpret so much from a
mere kiss," Emily said decidedly, trying by an air of sophistication to
cover her earlier gaffe.

"A mere kiss, miss? If one can call a kiss
'mere," one hasn't been properly kissed at all. Here, let me show
you."

And before she knew what he was about, he got
to his feet, pulled her to hers, slipped an arm about her waist, and planted a
very substantial kiss on her mouth.

In no way could that kiss be called mere. A
better word, she realized much later, might be provocative. The first sensation
it provoked in her was confusion. She'd never been held in a man's arms before,
much less been kissed, so it took some seconds for her to grasp what was
happening. When the confusion cleared, and she realized she was being very
soundly kissed, she felt positively thrilled, for the sensation was even more
intoxicating than she'd imagined in her girlish dreams it would be. But by the
time he let her go, another, much more provoking and unpleasant sensation had
taken over-humiliation. A proper lady, she told herself, would not be
manhandled like this by a proper gentleman, certainly not in the gentleman's
own drawing room. Whether the impropriety was Toby's or hers she was not sure,
but she was sure that she should never have permitted such a thing to occur. He
must hold her cheap to have done this to her. Humiliation brought tears to her
eyes.

She pushed away from him and turned her back.
"How d-dared you do such a th-thing?" she demanded, her voice
shaking.

The fellow actually laughed. "How dared I?
I didn't think that question had been asked for a hundred years, except in
those dusty, old-fashioned novels."

"You can certainly find innumerable ways
to insult me," she cried, wheeling on him. "First you k-kiss me as if
I were n-nothing but a vulgar little doxie, and then you c-call me
old-fashioned. Well, I know what Ki-what a real lady would do to you now! She'd
slap your face!" And Emily lifted her hand and swung at him with all her
might.

He caught her wrist in midair. He gripped it in
a painful, viselike hold and bent her arm back behind her until she had to fall
against him to keep him from breaking it. His face was so close to hers that
she thought the beast was going to kiss her again. But he only grinned. "I
don't permit anyone to slap me, ma'am, not even the little chit who's going to
be my wife." "Your wife?" She wrenched herself from his hold.
"I will never be your wife! I wouldn't marry you if-"

"Please don't say what I think you're
going to say," he laughed, watching her stalk to the door. "Please
don't say it!" But she couldn't be stopped. She glared at him from the
doorway and spat the words out as though nobody in the whole world had ever
said them before. "I wouldn't marry you if you were the last-"

"I know, I know," he groaned
mockingly. "If I were the last man on earth."\

Chapter Fifteen

Kitty had been quite right about Miss Leacock's
willingness to "prettify" Miss Alicia. Not only did she agree (with
the restrained enthusiasm her excessively ladylike character permitted) to the
scheme, but she invited Kitty to assist her. The two appeared at Miss Alicia's
door precisely one hour before the doctor was due to arrive, armed with the
Persian red dressing gown, a curling iron, a small coal brazier, a pot of
rouge, a vial of Honey Waters, and a box of Ivory powder. There were many more
ointments, powders, and beauty-enhancing artifices they could have brought, but
as Miss Leacock said, "we mustn't overdo, not this first time." Miss
Alicia did not, at first, show any enthusiasm for their plan for
beautification. She claimed to be too weak to sit up, much less to dress or to
"do up" her hair. But Kitty insisted that her mistress would be much
offended if her gift of the dressing gown were not put to use. Miss Alicia, not
wishing to hurt the feelings of the visitor who'd shown her so much kindness,
finally agreed to allow Miss Leacock to drape her in the robe.