A Matter of Honor (7 page)

It seemed to the waiting Aggie that ten minutes had long passed, but actually it was only eight minutes later that Cecilie climbed into the carriage and threw herself sullenly on the seat. Aggie said nothing, prudently keeping her eyes averted until some moments later his lordship entered the carriage also. His brows had returned to their normal position and his eyes were cloudy rather than blazing with anger. His mouth, however, seemed grimly set and he said nothing as the carriage moved off.

The ride home was made in absolute silence, no one speaking a word. When the carriage stopped, the Earl addressed them both. “You will go directly to your rooms and stay there. I must have time to get my temper under control before I speak to you.”

Cecilie did not even nod. She merely marched on up the stairs as though the Earl of Denby did not exist. He turned to Aggie and he was frowning again. “I have changed my mind. I want a word with you.”

“Yes, milord.” Aggie sighed. Perhaps it was just as well. If she bore the brunt of his anger, there would not be so much left to enrage Cecilie.

The Earl glared down at her. “How long has this kind of thing been going on?” he demanded.

“Since before I came into Cecilie’s life,” Aggie replied. “She has always gotten her way. She’s used to it.”

Denby scowled. “And if she does not, she throws these f
i
ts?”

Aggie nodded.

“I don’t suppose you could have given me some warning,” he said accusingly.

“I thought of it,” admitted Aggie, wondering at the candor and honesty he could wear and discard at will. Right now his eyes seemed to be pleading for her understanding and help. “But I couldn’t tell you in front of Cecilie
.
As you have discovered, the best way to deal with her in this mood is simply to walk away.” She risked a look into the eyes so close to her own. “I have never had any power over her. She could always go over my head to her papa. And she did.”

Denby scowled. “The girl is spoiled rotten.”

“I quite agree, milord,” replied Aggie, wishing that he would not stand so close to her. It had been just like this so long ago, only then they had spoken of inconsequential things. Spoken, until they kissed. Her eyes widened and her lips softened at the memory. How very much she had loved him, she thought bitterly. And how very foolish that had been.

“Where did she learn about French muslin?” he demanded gruffly.

Aggie frowned. “I wonder myself, milord. I had no idea what it was until I saw it.”

A strange look passed over his face and Aggie felt herself bristling up. Now he was going to read her a lecture. “If that is quite all,” she said coldly, “I shall only give you one more piece of advice.”

“And what might that be?” he asked softly, looking down at her with eyes that seemed warm and tender. She wanted to step back, to move further away from him, but she seemed rooted to the spot. For a long moment there was silence between them, then she managed to gather her wits. “Do not thwart Cecilie in public,” she said, in what she hoped were even tones. “She has absolutely no sense of embarrassment. What you experienced today was actually quite

minor.”

The Earl nodded, but it did not appear that he really heard her. He gazed intently down at her, then asked, in a tone that was almost a caress, “Why have you never married?”

Aggie had been losing herself in the depths of those gray eyes, drawn backward in time to the days when tenderness had existed between them. His question caused a flood of scarlet to her cheeks and she drew back from him. “You go beyond the bounds, milord,” she said stiffly. “That is no concern of yours.” Holding her head high, she spun on her heel and quickly raced up the stairs. In her haste to escape his presence before the telltale tears fell, she did not see the look of pain that crossed his handsome features as he watched her retreating f
i
gure.

Chapter Five

Cecilie came out of her sulks, arrangements for the come out proceeded as planned, and Aggie tried her best to avoid his lordship. How dare he ask her such a personal question! She felt the heat of embarrassment spreading over her body whenever she thought of it. And what other answer could she have given him? Surely her pride would not allow her to tell him the truth - that she had delayed so long in waiting for his return that no other match had been possible.

Cecilie gave very little trouble. She watched Dillydums very carefully, she did not attempt to walk out alone, and she seemed reconciled to his lordship’s control. Aggie was not sure how long this stage of affairs would last; but she welcomed the peace, regardless of its duration. She was having a diff
i
cult time with herself. She could not seem to think of the Earl merely as Cecilie’s guardian. No matter how she tried she could not wipe out the memories of those long-ago days. Nor could she keep from seeing his lordship as he had been then - with tenderness and warmth shining from his eyes.

All of this came to a focus several days before the come out when the new gowns arrived. Cecilie, in a gay, laughing mood, began to unpack them. “First, I shall lay them all out on the bed,” she decided. “So we may admire them.”

Aggie nodded. Certainly that was a harmless enough diversion. She turned back to her needlework, attending with only half an ear to Cecilie’s squeals and comments. But suddenly Cecilie cried out, “Aggie, look here. We didn’t order this.” From the box she pulled a gown of pale peach silk, the very silk that Aggie had so admired that day at the shop. Obviously this gown was not Cecilie’s. It was cut for a more womanly f
i
gure and the neckline was rather low for a young woman just come out.

“And here’s another,” announced Cecilie. Burrowing in the box, she pulled out a gown of palest green lame.

Aggie stared in surprise. How could such a mistake have been made? Two gowns of the very materials she had most admired. “Where is the bill?” she asked. “There has been some error.”

Cecilie rummaged around through boxes and paper and f
i
nally emerged triumphant with the bill in her fist.

Aggie studied it. “The gowns are listed here,” she said with a frown. “I do not understand. I will have to speak to the Earl.”

Cecilie nodded absently. “Look, this gown is just the color for you. Why don’t you try it on?”

Aggie was about to refuse, but the temptation was strong. After all, she had been a long time without pretty things. The gown was there; there would be no harm in just trying it on. She loved the shimmering peach color. “All right, but just for a moment. Then I must f
i
nd his lordship and advise him of this mistake.”

Cecilie insisted on helping with the gown, doing up the hooks and patting it into place, then backing off to see how it looked. “Oh, Aggie, it looks like it was made for you!” she squealed in delight, causing the monkey to forsake his perch on the bedpost and scramble into her arms.

Moving to the cheval glass, Aggie regarded herself almost with awe. The soft shade of the gown contrasted with the rich darkness of her hair. And it did f
i
t perfectly. The décolletage was perhaps a little lower than she had ever worn, but it was not immodest. The long narrow sleeves edged in a delicate lace, and the similar lace edging the neckline, gave the gown a festive air.

“It’s just the thing for you to wear to my come out,” said Cecilie, clapping her hands.

Aggie shook her head. “I can’t do that, dear. Besides, the gown is too young for me.” She did not really believe that - she had the testimony of her eyes right before her - but she did not want to tell her charge that there was no money available for new clothes.

With Cecilie’s help she carefully removed the gown and replaced it in the box. Then she put on her old one, a sprigged muslin faded by many washings. It looked more tired and lifeless than ever after the other. “Where is the bill?” Aggie asked.

Cecilie handed it to her. “I don’t think you should tell him anything,” she said with a gamine smile. “Just let him pay for them.”

“Cecilie, I can’t do that.”

Cecilie shrugged. “I should do it if I were you. He deserves it.” And she made a small face.

“If we all got what we deserved,” replied Aggie with a slight smile, “you and I might not like it either.”

Cecil
i
e made no reply to this; she just grinned and retreated to the bed with the monkey.

The bill firmly in hand, Aggie descended the staircase. She did not relish the idea of being alone with Denby
,
but to take Cecilie along on such an interview was to court disaster. She approached the library door with something like fear. Most often his lordship spent the morning hours there, sequestered with his accounts. And she usually made it her business to avoid this area altogether. But now she would have to face him. She took a deep breath and rapped.

“Come in,” called the Earl.

Mustering all her courage, she pushed open the door. As she had supposed, Denby
sat at the great desk. For some moments he did not raise his head and as she looked at him sudden tears f
i
lled her eyes. Here was the man she had thought to spend her life beside.

“Yes, Ba
-”
He looked up, then got hurriedly to his feet, a pleased expression on his face.
“
Ag - Miss Trimble
!
Please sit down. How may I help you?” he came toward her and she barely kept herself from retreating.

“The dressmaker has made a mistake,” she said, refusing the seat he gestured her to. “She has sent two gowns we did not order.”

Something strange flickered in his eyes and he smiled warmly. “One is of peach satin. The other of pale green lame.”

Aggie stared at him. “How did you know that?”

Denby took another step closer. “I know because I ordered them. For you.”

Color flooded Aggie’s face. “Milord! You

cannot.”

His mouth tightened slightly. “You must have clothes for Cecilie’s come out.” He smiled a little. “I thought I handled it very well. I had the maid spirit out one of your old gowns so Madame Dimond could take your measurements from it. I hope they f
i
t well.”

More color flooded her face at the thought that she had tried the gown on. Aggie shook her head. “I cannot accept
-
”

The Earl’s brows began to draw together. “Aggie,” he said in a voice from the past, “you’re not giving me a chance.”

She wanted to scream at him then
,
her heart contracting with the pain of hearing him speak her given name.
You had your chance and you threw it away,
she wanted to scream. But she did not. Instead, she forced herself to speak calmly, “Milord, I cannot accept clothing from you. It is unseemly.”

His mouth tightened further. “Miss Trimble
,”
he said formally, “you forget your position here. As the companion of my ward you cannot appear at the ball in rags.”

Aggie was struck silent. She was acutely conscious of the truth of his words. But how could she accept anything from him? The situation was impossible.

He moved closer
,
until only a few inches separated them. She wanted desperately to back away; his presence was overpowering. But she seemed rooted to the spot as his eyes searched hers. She felt the pulse throbbing in her throat and she swayed slightly from the weakness that was creeping over her. “Aggie,” he said softly, and the word itself was a caress. “You’re driving me mad like this. Can you never forget the past?”

His eyes burned into hers and she felt herself growing still weaker. Those eyes seemed to be hungrily seeking something and she was overcome with such a welling up of affection for him that she swayed involuntarily in his direction. She felt a moment of terror as the full realization of her feelings hit and then his arms encircled her and his lips descended on hers. There was one moment of startled awareness, one moment when she might conceivably have withdrawn
,
but she let it pass, still awash as she was with intense feeling.

And then it was too late. He drew her close against him; she felt the heat of his body, his mouth moving on hers, seeking, caressing. She ceased to be aware of individual things and was swept away on a great tide of emotion. It seemed that for the last five years she had been in some kind of half-sleep - not dead, but not alive. And now the touch of his lips had wakened her again, to an ecstasy that could not be denied.

She knew that she should not respond, that her best defense lay in being cold and lifeless. But there was no way she could keep her body from reacting to his touch
,
no way to close her lips against this tender onslaught.

When f
i
nally he released her, she could scarcely stand, so overpowered was she by the torrents of emotion that he had released in her. For a long moment she stood, forehead bowed against his chest. Then he put one hand under her chin and gently tilted back her head until she was forced to meet his eyes. It was almost as though the intervening years had never been - as though there still existed between them that wonderful bond of long ago.

“Aggie,” he said softly, “you must accept the gowns.” His eyes moved over her face. “There’s so much I can do for you now. You’ll see.”

It took awhile for the meaning of his words to sink into her dazed mind
,
but when they did, Aggie wrenched herself free of his arms. He had not offered for her in marriage as he had said he would, not even told her why he had left so abruptly. But now, because of that one kiss, he thought she would be willing to - Rage rushed through her at the degrading thought. If he had not wanted to marry her before, when she was a good catch with a substantial dowry, he certainly did not have that in mind now. What he did have in mind was - unspeakable.

She drew herself up and stared at him from eyes gone icy. “You go beyond the bounds
,
milord. The past is dead. And with it any connection there may have been between us.” She half expected him to argue, to tell her that the kiss proved her wrong. But he only stood, staring at her silently
,
his black brows drawn together. “I will wear the gowns because I must,” she continued. “But I will reimburse you for them after Cecilie
is wed and I come into what Lord Winthrop
left me. I may be poor, but I do not need charity.”