B006DTZ3FY EBOK (25 page)

Cynthia
had never pondered the question before. She hugged her elbows, thinking hard.
“L
aziness,
”
she said glumly.
“M
oral laziness. Certainly mental laziness. I haven
’
t
... haven
’
t
thought
properly.
”
She frowned, struggling to find the right words.
“M
y obedience has made me passive. In submitting to the will of others, I
suppress
my own judgment. I have actually tried
not
to think, often and often. And that
’
s wrong, isn
’
t it?
”

She did not wait for an answer but began pacing, her tumbling ideas pouring themselves out to Hannah
’
s sympathetic ear. Excitement was welling in her. She was on the verge, she felt, of a momentous discovery.

“O
f course it is wrong! Why, just now, it was my stupid devotion to duty that led me to injure my friend
—
and I knew better, all along. I simply wouldn
’
t listen to myself. I obeyed my mother rather than follow my heart.
”

Hannah looked amazed.
“D
o you mean it was your mother, not you, who wanted you to
—”

“Y
es, of course it was.
”
Cynthia
waved that off as unimportant.
“T
hat can
’
t surprise you, Hannah. Have I not always yielded to Mama? With increasing reluctance, I must admit! But I have always believed that submission, in and of itself, was virtuous. So I tried, even against my better judgm
ent, to submit. And now I think
... I think it may be a child
’
s virtue. I think I may have a higher duty, as an adult. To think for myself. To form my own judgments.
”

“O
f course you do,
”
said Hannah warmly.
“W
hy shouldn
’
t your opinions be as valid as anyone else
’
s?
”

Cynthia
laughed, feeling almost giddy with relief.
“I
t
’
s like you to support me, whatever mad thing I say! But I can think of several reasons why my opinions might not, in fact, be particularly valid. I have exercised my own judgment so little, I might be foolish to start relying on it now.
”

Hannah smiled. She seemed to be feeling better.
“Y
ou might be a bit rusty,
”
she acknowledged.
“P
erhaps you should move slowly at first. But I don
’
t believe that lets you off,
Cynthia
. You still must try to use your head. We all must.
”

“I
shall,
”
she promised.
“I
shall try to think for myself. I shall try to
—
to stand up to Mama.
”
Her first qualms assailed her. She sternly quashed them, aware that, for the first time in memory, it was her meekness she was suppressing
—
not her rebelliousness. An interesting switch. She took a deep breath, then smiled at Hannah.
“I
am utterly certain of one thing. Setting my cap for your Mr. Ellsworth was wrong.
”

Even in the semi-darkness, she sensed Hannah
’
s flush of embarrassment.
“H
e is not
‘
my
’
Mr. Ellsworth.
”

“E
ven so,
”
said
Cynthia
firmly.
“H
e may very well be your Mr. Ellsworth one day. And I had no right to interfere with that, once I knew how you felt.
”
In another surge of remorse, she crossed swiftly to her friend and took her hands in hers.
“W
hat a
ninny
I have been! There is no excuse for me, Hannah
—
none. I can only beg your forgiveness.
”

“D
on
’
t be silly. You were only doing what you thought was right.
”
Hannah
’
s shy smile broke through again.
“A
lthough, I must own, I am
glad you decided to rethink i
t.
”

Amity restored, Hannah announced that she was ready to return to the ballroom. She had promised to dance with her Uncle Malcolm and was afraid he might be looking for her.
Cynthia
urged her to go down ahead of her, and Hannah slipped out the door.
Cynthia
wanted a few moments alone, to collect her thoughts
—
and to brace herself for what lay ahead.

She was seldom alone. Despite her rioting thoughts, the solitude felt wonderful. She moved to the french windows and opened them. Fresh air poured into the stuffy room, cold and bracing. She drank in the chill and the silence. The quiet of the night was somehow emphasized by being laced with distant music. She rested her head by laying her temple against the doorframe, looking out at the stars and thinking.

There was a great deal to think about.

Before she had got very far, she heard the faint sounds of the door opening and closing behind her. And knew, without turning to look, who had come through that door.

“I
t
’
s cold in here,
”
said Derek.

“I
like it.
”
She still did not move or turn her head, but went on looking at the stars. Soft footfalls crossed the room behind her, and she felt the prickle of electricity that seemed to flash in the air around him.

“A
s you know, I heard a little of what passed between you and Lady Hannah.
”
His voice was quiet, in deference to the night
’
s stillness, and very near.
“I
t seems she was able to achieve what I could not.
”

She turned her head and looked at him. His face was only inches from hers. The silvery light from the night sky wrapped them in a faint shimmer, adding a magical, intimate quality to what was already a dangerously private meeting. When their eyes met, she felt her pulse flutter and jump.

“W
hat do you mean?
”
she whispered. She hadn
’
t intended to whisper. Her voice simply failed her.

His voice did not sound much steadier than hers.
“I
f I heard aright, you agreed to stop setting traps for John Ellsworth.
”

“O
h. That.
”

“D
id I hear you right?
”

His closeness, combined with his intensity, was too much. She dropped her eyes.
“Y
es,
”
she said softly.
“I
t was wrong of me. I see that now. I hope
—”
she glanced fleetingly back up at his face, then dropped her eyes again.
“I
hope you aren
’
t offended. That Hannah could convince me, when you could not.
”

“O
ffended? I
’
m delighted.
”

The optimism of his words was premature. She shivered.
“D
o not be. The news is not as delightful as you may hope.
”

“W
hat do you mean?
Cynthia
, this changes everything.
”
His voice was low and urgent.

“I
am sorry to disappoint you,
”
she whispered.
“S
orrier than you know. But it changes nothing, where we are concerned. At least
—”
She broke off, searching for the right words. He waited in silence for her to continue.
“I
suppose the truthful thing to tell you is, I don
’
t know. I haven
’
t thought it all out. And I need to consider, very carefully, exactly what has changed and what has not.
”
She sighed.
“T
he only thing that has certainly changed is, I shan
’
t try to attach John Ellsworth. On that, at least, I am resolved.
”

Derek stared very hard at her, looking perplexed.
“Y
ou know,
Cynthia
, I am a patient man.
”
He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as if hanging onto his vaunted patience by the slenderest of threads.
“B
ut this would try the patience of a saint. I thought you had come to your senses. I was evidently mistaken. If you have
not
decided to make me the happiest of men, then why, pray, are you letting Ellsworth wriggle off the hook?
”
An answer immediately seemed to dawn on him. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“H
as it something to do with Lady Hannah?
”

Of course he would guess. But at least she had not told him. She shook her head, smiling a little.
“I
cannot betray a confidence.
”

“N
ever mind, then. You needn
’
t. A blind man could see what is happening.
”
He thought for a moment, a frown gathering on his features.
“O
n the whole, I honor your decision. It shows a tenderer heart than the world gives you credit for. But if you are sacrificing your ambition for your friend
’
s sake, I daresay it is only Ellsworth you have agreed to let alone. Your intent to marry a man of vast wealth has not altered.
”

“C
orrect. And that, alas, is why I cannot give you hope.
”

He looked disgusted.
“Y
ou
’
re very frank.
”

“I
t
’
s useless to prevaricate,
”
she said bleakly.
“Y
ou deserve to know where you stand. I owe you that, at least.
”

“A
t the very least,
”
he agreed, giving her a wintry smile. He had withdrawn from her. And why shouldn
’
t he? Isn
’
t that what she had told him to do? Once again, she had no one to blame but herself. She had held her ground, even though she was no longer sure of her ground.

Confusion swept through her. What was real, and what was not? She had told him she must marry money. She had told him she
wanted
to. The first was true, but not the second. If she allowed him to believe that she was mercenary, was that dishonest
—
or merely a kindness, to spare him from false hope? How honest should she be? Would it truly make everything worse, if she told him the truth? She had thought so, only an hour ago. But now, having formed a determination to think for herself, shouldn
’
t she question that belief? What, really, had it been based on?

Trembling, she stared at his face. He looked aloof. Hurt. A little angry. And it was all her doing. She hated it when people were angry with her. She longed to apologize and make it up to him somehow, but the new
Cynthia
did not trust that impulse. Her aversion to conflict, she realized, had been a major component of her unhealthy docility
—
the timidity she had resolved to overcome. She must not replace her morbid fear of Mama
’
s displeasure with an equal fear of Derek
’
s displeasure. That would bring her no farther along in her quest to grow up.

What should she do? In another moment, it would be too late to decide. He had stepped back from her, and was bowing.
“T
here seems little point in my staying longer,
”
he said flatly.
“I
wish you a pleasant evening.
”

He was nearly at the door before she found her tongue.
“D
erek,
”
she croaked, hoarse with tension.
“W
ait.
”