A Fallen Woman (16 page)

It was a hard thing to acknowledge but there was no
escaping the truth; he wanted Rachel Sheridan just as much as he
had when he
had been her devoted supplicant in London. No, he thought
savagely, he wanted her
more
because now there were no boyish illusions that
had filtered his view of her, painting her in radiant goodness.
Rachel was as fallible and as flawed as the rest of humanity. She
had made a dreadful mistake and would be paying for it for the rest
of her life. He should have been appalled. He had wanted to be so
repelled by her as to feel nothing but disgust in her
company.

But instead, he
felt a growing compassion for her situation.

And a burning
need to take her into his arms and never let her go.

Oh yes, Nash
thought wearily, he was in very serious trouble indeed…

Chapter
Seven

‘My dear,
you are a vision!’ Margaret Sheridan exclaimed as she studied her
eldest daughter’s appearance. ‘I knew that material would be
perfect for you the moment I saw it.’

She was talking about the French amber silk that they had
found sev
eral
months ago on a trip to Alnwick. Lady Sheridan had immediately
decided the color would suit Rachel and had requested of their
dressmaker that an evening gown be made forthwith. Rachel had been
unable to see the point of the elaborate ensemble that her mother
and the dressmaker had decided on.

‘
Goodness Mama, when am I ever going to wear such a
creation?’

‘
There will be plenty of opportunities,’ her mother had
returned stoutly. ‘It is exactly what you need.’

As it happened, the gown
had
been exactly what Rachel had needed to give her
some measure of confidence for the evening ahead and her mother was
right; it suited her perfectly, giving an inward glow to her pale
skin and deepening the gold of her hair. Sarah, her maid, had
dressed her heavy locks, sweeping the shining tresses upwards but
leaving several long strands to fall across one breast. She wore a
modest selection of jewellery, a simple diamond and pearl necklace
with matching earrings and had allowed Sarah to fix a small diamond
pin into her hair, just above an ear.

‘I feel a little flamboyant
,’ she fretted, looking at herself in the
long mirror by the dresser and shaking out the amber skirts of her
gown. Her fingers restlessly touched upon the Brussels lace that
had been worked into the neckline of the bodice, the fine white
tatting also edging the snug sleeves at the elbow, to fall
gracefully around her forearms. ‘Perhaps I should just wear the
blue gown we bought last summer. It would do perfectly well. I have
only worn it once or twice.’

‘Nonse
nse,’ her mother replied firmly. Coming forward to stand
behind her daughter, she rested her hands on Rachel’s shoulders.
‘You look wonderful and I
want
you to look wonderful tonight. There will be far
too many people in our house that will pretend to be shocked that
you are attending, as if you should not be showing your face. But
you must show your face again, Rachel. You must hold your head high
and stare them down. I know you can do it. You have so much
courage.’

Rachel felt tears form in her eyes. Not because she would
be the source of so much unwelcome interest in the coming hours,
but because her mother was so determined to give her foolish child
something of her old life back. It wasn’t because her parents
wished to re-join their social circle that Margaret Sheridan was
urging her daughter to shine. Rachel had seen how content her
family could be without the approbation of the
ton
. But her mother wanted more for her
than just to exist, her life spent in the background while others
took center stage. She wanted Rachel to begin to live the life she
had once had, even if it could never be what it once
was.

It might have
been naïve – they both knew, in their hearts that Rachel would
never be fully accepted into Society again – but the sentiment was
based entirely on love and the knowledge straightened her
spine.

I just need a little of that self-confident arrogance back
that I once had
in excessively large quantities. The certainty that my
place in the world was assured and my future golden. If I no longer
feel that way, I can certainly pretend to. For my parents’
sake.

She smiled and covered her mother’s hand with her own. One
way or the other, Rachel was going to show the world that, not only
had she survived her shameful antics, she was
enchanted with her lot in
life.

‘Everything will be fine, Mama. Tomorrow Charlotte is
marrying as delightful a man as I’d ever hoped she would find and
tonight we are celebrating the event. You have no need to concern
yourself. I am determined to have a marvelous time of
it.’

‘Oh, I am
not worried,’ Mama said, dropping a kiss on Rachel’s hair. ‘You
have never let small minded people dim your spirits and you won’t
let them do so now. And we are here for you, my love. Never forget
that.’

As if she ever
could.

She had
descended the stairs in a high fettle, bolstered by her talk with
her mother and her own determination to stare down anybody who was
presumptuous enough to curl their lip at her. Seeing Worsley
standing by the fireplace, glass of wine in hand, gave her a
moment’s pause. She had been trying not to think of the earl since
she had left him in the library. The peculiar conversation they had
shared had been nudging insistently at her thoughts, eager to have
her examine every word and nuance but she knew it would be a
mistake to do so. To her surprise – and dismay – she found herself
strongly attracted to Worsley. He was certainly not the man he had
been when he had paid court to her in London. That being said, he
was altogether a great deal more interesting.

Fortunately, the preparations for the dance had helped to
push away speculation about the man but seeing the earl – tall and
straight and, it seemed to an uncertain Rachel, even more
attractive in his dark, beautifully cut evening clothes – caused
her stomach to give a, small, but unmistakable, fillip. Attraction
fluttered through her on soft, insistent wings and she was
dismayed.

She no longer knew what to expect
from the man. His apology in the
library had seemed entirely sincere, as had his unexpected
sympathy. While she appreciated the former, she found she did not
want the latter, did not want him to look at her as if she were a
creature to be pitied. Being pitied made her want to pity herself
and that would never do. The sympathy in those grey eyes,
unexpected as it was, had made her feel unusually vulnerable. She
had no right to expect sympathy, not from a man she had once cut to
the quick with her rejection. And certainly not from a man whom
Society would regard as a natural leader and who might reasonably
be expected to be horrified by the sins of Rachel
Sheridan.

There was nothing between herself and the
9
^th
Earl of Worsley and there never could be.

Just the same, as soon as she entered the room she looked
toward him and experienced a shiver of satisfaction at the sudden
heat that warmed those fine grey eyes, when they settled upon her,
turning them from overcast to storm in a matter of moments. There
was no doubt that the earl
did
like her in her finery and, while it should not matter in
the least, Rachel found that her confidence crept a little higher
at his obvious admiration.

As they
all gathered in the drawing room to await the onslaught of guests
(an experience that Thorncroft had not undergone in nearly four
years), Rachel made small talk and tried not to look towards
Worsley again. Her father pressed a glass of champagne into her
hand with a smile.

‘
My dear, you look delightful.’

‘But not
as delightful as Charlotte,’ Rachel observed, as her sister walked
into the room. Once again, Lady Sheridan’s instinct for what would
be most becoming on her daughters had triumphed. The gown was
entirely charming, primrose silk over a silver sarcenet underskirt.
Tiny cream rosebuds had been embroidered around the hem and several
actual cream rosebuds from the estate hothouse had been fixed in
her hair.

‘
Very nice,’ Lord Sheridan observed, with a fond
smile.

Adam mo
ved across to stand before his affianced bride. Lifting her
gloved hand to his lips, he kissed it gently and Charlotte’s eyes
dropped shyly to the floor. Rachel smiled as well and took a sip of
the chilled wine.

‘
I think Lord Casterton agrees with us.’

‘
It is fortunate that my daughters take after their mother,’
her father commented. ‘If my nose had come into play we might not
be standing here now.’

‘Now,
now,’ Rachel chided. ‘Nanny Finch used to tell Charlotte and me
that there was a good deal more to a female than just a
face.’

‘I
daresay she did. From what I can recall, the woman resembled a
frog. No amount of princely kissing was going to help her recover
from such an affliction.’

Rachel laughed
and some of the tension eased within her. Everything was going to
be all right.

Worsley
came across to stand with them. ‘Miss Sheridan,’ he said, ‘you look
particularly delightful tonight.’

‘
My sentiments exactly,’ Lord Sheridan agreed.

Rachel smiled and took another sip of champagne. Some of
the tension returned with the arrival of the earl, but it had a
different resonance, now. Worsley’s attractions had not been at all
apparent to her when he had paid court to her – she had been so far
under the spell of another man at the time that little had
penetrated – but they were certainly apparent now. Tilting her chin
to look up at him, she took in the determined chin, the fine line
of his lips and those ridiculously penetrating grey eyes and
shivered a little. This was not good. She did not wish to feel
attracted to the man. She did not want to form a
tendre
towards any man, let
alone one who might possibly happen to cross her path in the
future, thereby deepening her interest even further. How dreadful
would it be, to actually begin to fall in love – for the first time
in her life – and never be able to enjoy the emotion?

Unlike most single females, she did
not
wish to meet anyone who might
captivate her affections. As things stood, Rachel was content. To
carry about an unrequited love would be a burden she was more than
willing to do without.

The attraction must be quashed, her emotions brought to
heel
, she
decided firmly. While her heart might beat a little harder when she
was in the presence of Worsley, she had no intention of letting it
beat
too
hard. Only a fool would allow herself to wonder what it
might be like to be kissed by those firm, well molded lips. Rachel
had been all kinds of a fool once. She would rather not continue
her career in idiocy. Besides, Worsley had the look of a man who
had well and truly lost that air of awkward inexperience that had
once characterized him. Rachel was prepared to wager that his time
on the Continent had been very… well,
continental
. As if he had made love to a dozen
or more women and now knew a thing or two that might very well
shock Rachel. It was, she thought wryly, surely most unfair that a
woman who had been characterized as a Jezebel should be so ignorant
in the goings on between the sheets, utterly unversed in the ways
of seduction. How was it that men were not stigmatized when
seducing females who were not their wives, but females were
rebuffed if being caught out in the act of being
seduced?

She managed
what she hoped was a creditably cool smile. ‘Thank you,
Sir. May I say that evening dress suits you?’

The
compliment brought a glint to his eyes. Women did not usually
return tributes in such a fashion. ‘You are very kind, Miss
Sheridan.’

‘
Oh, hardly.’

‘Are you
looking forward to dancing tonight? I recall that it was once a
favorite pastime of yours.’

‘But of
course.’ She did not add that she was unlikely to be invited onto
the floor unless it was by her father or brothers. There was no
need to spoil the mood.

‘May I
hope that I might have a dance?’

Rachel
hesitated. For some reason the question took her aback. Perhaps it
was the thought of being squired around the dance floor in this
man’s arms, held close – but not too close, of course – to that
tall, elegant body. Or perhaps it was surprise that he would be so
daring as to ask the scandalous Miss Sheridan to dance in front of
a disapproving crowd of no doubt avid onlookers. Everybody would be
shocked that he had done any such thing. Eagerness and wariness
battled for supremacy. Eagerness won.

‘
I should be delighted to dance with you, Sir.’

Lord
Sheridan was eyeing Worsley with approval. ‘Make it a waltz,’ he
suggested. ‘That will get them talking.’

The earl
smiled, while Rachel felt her cheeks warm. ‘Thank you, Papa,’ she
said grimly. ‘There is nothing in the least bit awkward about that
suggestion.’