Edenbrooke (21 page)

Mr. Kellet bowed. “Miss Daventry. Miss Wyndham.”

Why could he not call me Miss Daventry? Cecily was just as much his cousin as I was.

“Mr. Kellet,” Cecily said, sounding a little breathless. “What a welcome surprise.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “What brings you to this area?”

He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I have been following my heart, and it has led me here, to you.”

I frowned at them. Cecily’s gaze rested on Mr. Kellet’s face as he kissed her hand. I recognized the look on her face—excitement and admiration, with just enough suggestiveness thrown in to bring a man to his knees. It was the very same look she had used on Philip the night before, when she had captured his attention all throughout dinner.

I could not believe her. She had always acted foolish around Mr. Kellet, but this was beyond the pale. She should know better than to encourage a man of his reputation. I had not had a season in London, yet even I could judge by his haphazard mode of dress and the appraising look in his eyes as he swept his gaze over her figure that he was not a proper gentleman. Besides that, we had heard of his escapades for years. Why would Cecily want to flirt with him?

“Excuse me, Mr. Kellet, we were just leaving,” I said, moving closer to Cecily.

He turned his languid gaze on me and smirked. “Are you? Well, I hope I may call on you soon, cousin.”

“No, you may not. And stop calling me cousin.” I knew I sounded rude, and I was glad of it. He only laughed.

Cecily frowned at me, then turned with a bright smile to him. “Mr. Kellet, you must excuse my sister’s behavior.
I
hope you will come see us all,
very
soon.”

My face was hot with embarrassment as I followed her and Louisa out of the ribbon shop.

As soon as we were out of earshot, she said, “Marianne, I can’t believe how rude you were toward Mr. Kellet.”

My mouth fell open in shock.
She
was censuring
me
? “I can’t believe how encouraging you were.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. “You know what he is. He is a self-serving rake and the worst kind of scoundrel there is.”

She looked at Louisa and they both burst into laughter. They were clearly not taking me seriously.

Louisa smiled condescendingly. “You are very naïve, aren’t you?”

I felt as if I had been slapped.

“No, hush, Louisa,” Cecily said. “Don’t be cruel. She has simply been sheltered. We must help her grow up.” She turned to me. “Listen, dear, of course we’re aware of Mr. Kellet’s reputation. But there are some very good reasons to have a man like him around.” She leaned close and said quietly, “The rakes are the best kissers.”

I stared. “How would you know?”

She looked at Louisa and they giggled. I would never have suspected Cecily of such behavior! But I saw the knowing smiles they cast at each other, and I was forced to accept the idea that maybe—just maybe—Cecily did know something about rakes and kissing. But I couldn’t believe, after our conversation this morning, that she would really behave this way.

“Cecily, do you really intend to flirt with Mr. Kellet when you have a different goal in mind?” I asked. “With a different gentleman?”

She was clearly surprised. Louisa coughed in a way that sounded like she was trying to cover up a laugh.

“Everyone knows it’s perfectly acceptable for a lady to flirt,” Cecily said, “as long as she is discreet. And her husband will appreciate having the same freedom.” She leaned closer, putting her arm around my shoulder, and said quietly, “Please don’t say anything like this when you have your season. I understand, as your sister, but others will not be so kind to you, and I’m afraid you will be very embarrassed.”

She moved away from me and gave Louisa a look of long-suffering that made my face burn with shame. I said nothing more as we walked along, but my thoughts raced. How could Cecily think about kissing a rake when she was supposed to be violently in love with Philip? And how would Philip feel if he knew this about Cecily? Others might behave immorally, but Philip never would. I knew him, and I knew how deeply he wanted to be like his father—a gentleman in every sense of the word. Never mind what behavior passed as “elegant” in London. Philip was different. I was certain of that.

Chapter 18

At dinner that afternoon Lady Caroline mentioned the ball that would be held at the Assembly Room that evening. “Speaking of which,” she said, “we still have a lot to do to prepare for our own ball. It is only a week away, you know.”

“Thank heavens I won’t have to be a part of the planning,” William said. “I can’t stand hearing talk of colors and flowers.” He looked at Philip. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

I glanced at Philip. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night before, and I found myself missing him much more than I had anticipated. Just now, letting my gaze rest on his familiar face, I felt a unique sense of relief.

“No, of course not,” Philip said.

“Good. I’ve been looking forward to this trip these past six months.”

Trip? What trip? I looked in confusion from one to the other, but before I could ask anything, Lady Caroline said, “We won’t need your help with the planning, but I do expect you both to be back in time for the ball.”

William threw Rachel a pleading look, but she only smiled and said, “Don’t look at me like that. You know I want you at the ball.”

He groaned, and I had to smile a little at his pained expression.

“We can’t help with the ball plans today,” Louisa said. “I’m going to introduce Cecily to the Fairhursts. You won’t mind if we take the gig, will you?” She looked at her mother, who turned worried eyes to me. The gig would not hold three passengers, which meant I was excluded from their plans.

“You can take the carriage,” Lady Caroline said, “so that both of our guests will be able to join you.”

She seemed to put extra weight on the word “guests.” Surely everyone at the table knew what Lady Caroline was doing—she was trying to force Louisa into taking me along. But I refused to be the object of charity, and I would not go along if I wasn’t wanted.

“Thank you for considering me,” I said, “but I would love to stay and help you plan the ball instead. I have already met the Fairhursts.”

I felt Philip’s gaze and knew my face was red with embarrassment, but I didn’t glance his way. I pulled my pride tight around me like a cloak in winter and kept my pretense in place. Louisa might not want my company, but that didn’t mean it had to hurt. Cecily caught up with me in the hall as I left the dining room.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

I stopped and looked at her. My smile felt forced.

“I didn’t feel like I could ask Louisa twice in one day to let you accompany us. But I would have invited you if I could have. I hope you understand.”

Another forced smile. “Of course.”

She hugged me, and the scent of lilacs enveloped me. “I knew you would.” She pulled away and threw me a smile before going upstairs to get her bonnet. I stood in the foyer, feeling lost and alone. Lady Caroline had to speak with the housekeeper, so she wasn’t ready to talk with me about ball plans. Before today, I would have been making my way to the library to meet Philip for that chess game he kept promising me. But there was to be no more of that, now that Cecily was here.

Still, I wandered toward the library because I had nothing better to do. I was sure Philip was doing something with William. Just as I expected, the room was empty. I sat on a chair in front of the window and looked out at the orchard. This was the same place where I had sat the day Philip told me all about his Tour. Smoothing my hand over the leather armrest, I tried not to think of the days gone by that would never return. But it was no use. I missed Philip. I missed our afternoons together. I missed the days we had before Cecily had arrived and changed everything. And I missed Cecily too—the sister I had known and loved all my life, who had always had time for me.

I lay my head against the back of the chair, closed my eyes, and tried very hard to tuck my sadness away. It was threatening to escape its proper bounds and spill out of my heart. Even using all of my concentration, I was unable to find any real security of my emotions. They wavered close to the surface, and I kept feeling the urge to cry.

I felt a stir in the air around me. Opening my eyes, I found Philip sitting on the windowsill directly in front of me, with his arms crossed, as if determined to wait there a long time if he had to. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised to see him. We looked at each other in silence for a moment before the emotions I saw in his eyes became unbearable. There was sadness and gentleness and more pity than I wanted to see.

“Did you need something?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand. My heart thumped hard at his touch. I told myself I should pull my hand away, but I couldn’t make myself do it.

“What did you need?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“Your smile. I haven’t seen it all day.”

I looked at my hand in his and wondered how to respond. I didn’t think I could conjure up one more false smile to save my life, so I just sighed and didn’t say anything.

“Why don’t you join William and me? I’m going to show him the work I’ve had done on the estate since his last visit.”

I met his gaze. “I don’t want your pity.”

His grip on my hand tightened, and his voice sounded exasperated. “I am not offering you pity, Marianne. I want you to come with us.”

He looked sincere, and I wanted to believe that he wanted my company. But I didn’t want to know for sure, because I didn’t think I could bear it if I found out that he didn’t mean it—that he was only being polite. Besides that, I had still chosen Cecily. I had committed my loyalty to her. I knew it was still the right decision, even if it made me unhappy.

“Thank you for the invitation,” I said, slipping my hand out of his. “But I can’t accept it.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Can’t or won’t?” His question reminded me of my question to him the first night I was here.

Smiling a little, I answered, “Both.”

He looked away.

I stood and walked to the door, but turned back when I remembered something. “Thank you for the poetry.”

He looked at me again, but said nothing in return.

Lady Caroline was ready to plan the ball when I met her in the drawing room. Mrs. Clumpett and Rachel were engaged in the sorts of activities that elegant ladies do—sewing and music and reading. They were clearly resigned to their roles as elegant ladies; I should resign myself to mine as well. But after sitting with Lady Caroline for an hour and a half discussing every aspect of the ball, I ached with restlessness.

She looked up from her lists and saw me shifting in my seat. “I think this is enough for now. Thank you for your help.”

I stood and looked around the room. What to do now? Mrs. Clumpett sat practicing the pianoforte, reminding me that I should try to be accomplished. I sat next to Rachel on the settee and picked up the embroidery I found there. But my mind was not on my work. Something was bothering me, but it was just beyond the edge of my awareness, and I couldn’t pull it to the surface. After several minutes, it came to me. It was the trip that William and Philip had mentioned, and which I had heard nothing about. Had it been my imagination, or were they all keeping it a secret from me?

Rachel glanced at me. “Good heavens! What are you doing to my embroidery?”

I looked down and realized that it was not mine, and that I had just embroidered random stitches all over the cloth. I dropped it abruptly.

“Pardon me.”

Rachel picked up the embroidery and began to pick out threads. The pianoforte was loud, assuring me that the others would not overhear.

“William seems to be looking forward to this trip,” I said nonchalantly. Rachel frowned at the tangle of a French knot that I had made, trying to pick it apart with a needle.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I have resigned myself to it, because they enjoy it so. But my father would never have approved of it.” She gave me a look of long-suffering. “He was a rector. Thank goodness he is in his grave.”

I stared at her as she pulled out the stitches I had so clumsily made. What were Philip and William going to do that a rector would disapprove of?

Rachel went on. “But such are the ways of men. I know I couldn’t stop William if I tried. So I don’t. I have decided that the less I know about what they do, the better I feel about it. Sometimes ignorance is the best defense, you know.”

I was stunned. I tried to think of some other explanation, but all I could think was that the only reason a woman would
not
want to know what her husband was doing was if he was doing something improper.

Although I had never been to Town, I knew enough that I could fit the pieces of the puzzle together for myself. After all, I had heard rumors about Mr. Kellet’s scandals enough times that I understood the gist of what he was doing. Betsy had told me plenty, too, about what people in London did. But I could hardly believe they could all talk about such things so casually! Why, they had spoken about their trip in front of Lady Caroline!

I suddenly saw the Wyndham family in a new light, and I was horribly disappointed in the whole lot of them. But I couldn’t say anything, or react in the way I wanted to. It would only bring further embarrassment upon me, just as it had with Cecily and Louisa.

Of course, I didn’t know William well at all. But Philip! I had thought he was such a gentleman. He seemed so noble. I had thought he would somehow be above such things. How could I have been so mistaken in my understanding of his character?

I felt ill, and knew that I must escape, at once. I said something about needing to get something from my room and fled as quickly as possible. But I did not go to my room, for I knew there was no peace to be found there. Instead I roamed the house in a distracted state, trying not to imagine Philip doing things a rector wouldn’t approve of, until my face was hot and my heart was sick.