A Christmas Kiss (14 page)

Clarissa smiled enigmatically. “I'm delighted that you found her so helpful. She is truly a remarkable young woman. But I'm quite sure that after the holidays, she will be … er … otherwise engaged.”

Evalyn, meanwhile, had joined Marianne at the window. “What a lovely moon,” she remarked.

Marianne looked downcast, and sighed feelingly. “Yes, very lovely,” she said.

“I suppose you are thinking that it is a night on which to be gazing at the moon with an interesting young man, rather than to be making polite conversation with a prosy, chattering female,” Evalyn said with an understanding smile.

Marianne looked stricken. “Oh, no, Miss Pennington, not at all! I hope I didn't … that is, I never intended … I didn't mean to offend—”

“Of course you didn't. You haven't given me any reason to be offended. It's only that I know I would have felt, when I was your age, that a night like this is wasted if it isn't shared with a young man.”

“I don't feel that way. I find young men quite confusing and difficult, and I wouldn't care in the least if I never spoke to any of them again.”

“Oh, how cruel! There is at least one gentleman in this very room who would be very sorry to hear you say so.”

“No, there isn't. If you mean Jamie, you can see that he sits across the room laughing over his silly card game and has not exchanged a word with me all evening. And as for Reginald Windle, he has been languishing over Miss Trevelyan in the most odiously deferential way, just as if nothing whatever had happened between—” And here she stopped and blushed in embarrassment.

“I don't wish to pry, of course,” Evalyn assured the girl gently, “but Lord Reginald is a particular friend of mine, and I'm sure he would never have offended you knowingly.”

“Oh, he didn't offend me, exactly,” Marianne hastened to reassure Evalyn, and before she was aware, she had confided to Evalyn the whole story of her adventures of the afternoon. “So you see, Miss Pennington,” she concluded, “that is why I am so confused. How can a gentleman kiss a girl one minute and ignore her the next?”

“It certainly is a puzzle,” Evalyn agreed, “but it seems clear that Lord Reginald feels honor-bound to leave the field to Jamie.”

“Do you really think so?” Marianne asked hopefully. “You do not think he has forgotten me already?”

“I don't believe he could have done so. But honor is important to gentlemen, you know. More important than love, I think. So you must not blame him too much for putting his honor before his heart.”

“Oh, Miss Pennington, you make him sound quite romantic! Do you think I should put him out of my heart, too?”

“I'm sure I don't know. Are you certain that he's really there? I was under the impression that Jamie is the one who attracts you.”

Marianne sighed again. “Oh, dear, I wish you hadn't said that. I don't know which of them I prefer. Do you think that means I'm … flighty?”

Evalyn bit back a smile. “No, of course not. I think it means that you are not acquainted with them for a long enough time. In due course, your instincts will tell you which one you love.”

“Are you sure, Miss Pennington? Do you think I will ever be certain?”

“Oh, yes. When you are truly in love, your instincts will point him out to you, just as the needle of a compass points north.”

Marianne gazed at her with something like adoration. But even as she spoke, Evalyn was uncomfortably aware that, instinctively, her own eyes were about to turn toward the gaming table. It was only by a physical effort—not unlike the effort of keeping the needle of a compass from pointing north—that she was able to restrain herself from turning to look at Philip's face.

Eleven

Sally bid everyone goodnight with her brightest smile, floated off gracefully to her room like a blond goddess on a cloud of mauve silk, closed the door gently behind her, and kicked over the nearest chair with a vicious swing of her foot. “What an idiot I am!” she said aloud. She paced the room, her hips swaying angrily. What was she doing in this rustic backwater? She belonged in London, in a whirl of balls and soirées, gambling games and masquerades, intrigues and flirtations, and the thousand other diversions with which she was accustomed to give excitement to her daily existence. She was so bored here she wanted to scream! She had known, in maneuvering her invitation, that she was condemning herself to a fortnight of quiet evenings and lazy days, but she had not expected to be humiliated, to be forced to take a back seat to a nobody of a governess. Why, even that seventeen-year-old chit, Marianne, was arousing more interest among the men than she! What was the matter with these men? Were they blind?

She picked up a taper with shaking fingers and lit all the candles of a large candelabrum. She carried it to her dressing room and set it on the dressing table in front of the mirror. In the strong reflected light, she studied her face with intense concern. Her green eyes glinted back at her as brightly as ever, subtly accented by the blacking with which she darkened her lashes. Her skin was smooth and unmarked by a wrinkle, freckle, or blemish, and the soft pink color of her cheekbones was due as much to nature as to art. Her tear-drop diamond earrings made glittering highlights on her cheeks and emphasized their smoothness. Her neck was long and graceful, her shoulders smooth as ivory. The only fault she could find with the picture in the mirror was in the arrangement of her hair. She had felt, earlier this evening, that Annette's suggestion for her coiffure was very becoming, with its part down the center and a cascade of tight curls falling over her ears. But now, in contrast to the insufferable Miss Pennington's simple style, it looked ornate and artificial.

There was a light scratching at the door, and Annette entered diffidently. “You have come up to bed early, Ma'm'selle,” she ventured.

“You are late!” Sally countered angrily. “I expect you to be here waiting for me when I come up to bed!”

“But, Ma'm'selle, how am I to know—?”

“I'll brook no arguments, girl!” Sally cut in. “Stop jabbering and take down my hair. And by the way, don't fix it in this style again. It's dreadful.”

“
Zut!
Did you not say to me earlier that—?”

Sally narrowed her eyes threateningly. “Are you going to talk back to me about everything? Watch your step, Annette. You can be replaced quite easily, you know. I don't know why I've put up with you this long.”

Annette had heard these threats many times before and was unmoved. “You did not have much amusement downstairs tonight, eh?” she asked impertinently, pulling the pins from her mistress's hair.

“Amusement! It was the greatest bore I've ever been forced to endure. I don't think I can stand much more. I'm tempted to pack up this very night. I'd get to London if I had to travel on the public stage!”

Annette drew in her breath and opened her mouth to object. The possibility of being forced to leave Joseph so soon came as a shock. Although Lord Gyllford had been true to his word and had arranged for a promotion for Joseph, the pair had not yet had time to benefit from the new arrangement. It would be terrible to be forced to leave him now, when she had been expecting to spend another ten days in his company. But she knew that she could not hope to sway her mistress by argument. Perhaps she could soothe her out of the sullens. A better mood might make the idea of rushing back to London less appealing. “Perhaps Ma'm'selle is only a little tired,” she suggested amicably.

“Ma'm'selle is not in the least tired. How can I be tired? I haven't been dancing, have I? I haven't done anything that would tire a dowager in her eighties!”

Annette, having taken down Ma'm'selle's hair, now undertook to unhook her gown. She remained silent, trying desperately to think of some way to make the stay at Gyllford appear more attractive to her willful employer, but nothing occurred to her. She helped her Ma'm'selle into her filmy nightdress, a costly trifle made of layers of gauze, each layer a different shade of blue, and picked up the garments Miss Trevelyan had discarded. Ordinarily, she would have departed with them, but tonight she lingered in the dressing room, pretending to be busy putting things in order, hoping that she would learn more of Miss Trevelyan's plans.

Sally, not in the least sleepy, stretched herself luxuriously on the chaise and mulled things over. Philip had been unapproachable ever since her arrival, but she had seen nothing to make her think that he had designs in other quarters. While Miss Pennington's position in the household still remained a mystery, she was almost convinced that Philip was not involved in it. There was no reason to feel that her campaign was lost. She might win him still, if she could get near to him. She would have to make him more approachable. She would have to waylay him in his study, or surprise him by appearing early at breakfast.… She was clever—she would find ways. As for Miss Pennington, if her presence should become a threat to her plans, Sally would find a way to discredit her.

Annette made a noise in the dressing room. “Are you still here?” Sally asked. “I don't want you any more tonight. Go to bed.”

“I only wish to put away your things. Look, you have left your diamond earrings lying here. Do you not want to lock them away in your jewel box?”

“Oh, bother. Just leave them there and go away.”

“But how foolish, Ma'm'selle! It is not at all proper to leave such things lying about for anyone to pick up.”

“There's no one here who would—” Sally stopped and rose slowly from the chaise. She walked to the door of the dressing room and leaned against the frame. “Perhaps you're right,” she said to Annette, a strange smile turning up the corners of her mouth, her eyes showing a calculating gleam. “One should never be too careless with valuables, no matter where one is, don't you agree? You are very right to caution me. Here, I'll put them in the box, Annette, and you must make sure I lock it carefully. You must be sure we do this every night, all the time we stay here. Will you remember to remind me,
chère
Annette?”

Annette ogled her mistress in suspicion. What was the meaning of this sudden emphasis on the safety of her jewels? And the sudden affection with which she was speaking? Annette didn't like the glitter of those green eyes. Ma'm'selle was planning some devilment, of that Annette was sure. “As you say, Ma'm'selle,” she said carefully.

“Every night, for as long as we stay here, we must remember to do this,
n' est-ce pas?
It is your own suggestion, after all.”

“But, yes. It is of all things the most sensible,” Annette said, watching her mistress carefully. “Does this mean we are to remain here?”

Ma'm'selle Trevelyan smiled enigmatically, locked the jewel case, and tucked the key under a powder puff in a glass dish on the dressing table. “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “I think we'll remain for a little while. This rustication may prove to be somewhat enjoyable after all.”

Reggie woke early the next morning and drew aside the window curtains to find the ground covered with a light sprinkling of snow, and the sky heavy with the threat of further precipitation. Blast! he thought, another day of enforced inactivity. Another day in which he would be obliged to linger about the house, making polite conversation and playing silly card games. And worst of all, he would have to see Marianne and pretend to indifference and distance, while all the while he would remember their warmth and intimacy. He climbed back into bed and tried to go back to sleep. There was no point in dressing now. No one would be down to breakfast before ten on a day like this. He closed his eyes and tried to will sleep to return to him again, but he felt obstinately wide awake. His mind returned, as it had done repeatedly the night before, to the little patch of woods where he had spent the previous afternoon. He could see the tree stump, the fading sunlight lighting the bare treetops, the wet lashes of Marianne's eyes flickering tremulously against her cheeks. He could see her lift her eyes, and then her face, close to his. And he could feel again the surprising warmth and softness of her lips against his own.

He sat up, leaned back against the pillow, his eyes wide open. Of all the men in his wide circle, he was the last expected to lose his head over a girl. Reggie was the one to whom the others came with their problems in matters of the heart. Old Reg would be sure to take it all as a great joke and a bore, and tease them out of the doldrums. Anyone could have predicted what Reggie's future would be: a rich and fat old bachelor, riding to the hounds, organizing shooting parties and elaborate and well-attended dinners. Not that he was at all averse to keeping a ladybird or two for amusement. But ladies of the muslin company did not count in this regard. They never affected one's emotions. One did not become involved with them in any serious way.

But a naive, innocent girl like Marianne—one whose birth and station in life were similar to his own—well, that was quite a different case. One kiss and he could have been a doomed man. Fortunately, Jamie had staked the first claim. Reggie had no intention of altering his plans for the future for any girl, and certainly not for a chit just out of the schoolroom, not yet “out,” with no
savoire-faire
or address. She could barely make civilized conversation!

He sighed. All that was far from the truth, and he knew it. Why, when they had sat together on the tree stump, her conversation had been utterly charming. Where, oh, where could he ever again find a girl who would describe his lisp as “lovable”?

But he mustn't dwell on it. He must discipline himself to put her out of his thoughts. He must find some other way to occupy his mind. He cast his eyes around the room. There on the mantle was the very thing. He hadn't spent any of his time in such pursuits since his days at Cambridge, and even then he had avoided it as much as possible. But there was nothing else he could think of. Yes, there was nothing for it but to get out of bed, get that book from the mantlepiece and spend the morning reading. He sighed. Love can get a man into preposterous situations. He crossed the room barefooted and lifted the book from the shelf. It was somewhat yellowed and covered with dust. He blew it clean and looked at the title—
The Life of Mr. Jonathan Wild the Great
. Well, it sounded as good as any. Reggie pattered back to bed and propped himself up among the pillows. To what ignominy had he fallen! As he turned stoically to the first page, he hoped fervently that word of this activity would not leak out to his friends. He would never be able to live it down!