Fragile Mask (24 page)

Turning, she walked out of the room. She did not see
Betsey’s concerned features watch her pass by. She did not see
anything at all, except the blurry outline of the wall and her own
bedchamber door. She managed to open this and to stagger within,
the cloak dropping from about her to the floor. But it was by feel
alone that she found her bed and sank down upon it, her shoulders
sagging, the blinding tears wetting her cheeks as she choked on the
sobbing breaths rising up through her tightened throat, and tried
with useless fingers to pluck off the mittens from her
hands.

She did not notice Betsey enter the room. But when the maid
sat down beside her and those firm hands—hands that had so often
cradled the forlorn little girl she once had been—took hold of her,
removed the mittens, and then drew her against the comforting
breasts, she yielded instantly.

‘
There, my dove,’ crooned the maid, rocking her. ‘There, my
little one.’

Verena clutched her, the painful sobs rasping in her throat
as she tried to speak.

‘
Oh—Betsey. What has he—made of me?’

Betsey stroked her hair, held her tight, and patted her.
Yet her voice was puzzled. ‘Who, my dove? What is it you
mean?’

‘
Nathaniel,’ came the choked reply. ‘I am
marble,
Betsey—and that is his work.’

***

The latch clicked behind Denzell’s back as he slipped the
front door to in the silent house. It was early yet, but the
household must already be asleep, except perhaps for the servants
waiting to put Osmond and Unice to bed when they returned. For
himself, he was glad to think he had given his valet leave for the
evening. He did not wish to go to bed just yet. What he wished for
was a bottle of his host’s brandy.

A candle in a silver holder awaited him on a side table by
the parlour door. He took it up and crossed into the little
breakfast parlour, where he knew Osmond kept a decanter handy on
the dresser for just such an occasion.

The hand with which he poured himself a glass was not quite
steady, and he swore as a little of the golden liquid ran down the
outside of the glass. He wiped the glass with his pocket
handkerchief, and was about to replace the stopper on the decanter
when he paused.

He might as well go to the devil, might he not? Laying down
the stopper, he seized the decanter, dragged a chair out from the
table and, stripping off his russet coat and flinging it aside,
slumped into the chair. Then he sat, a silhouette against the
candle on the dresser, the glass cradled in his hands, the decanter
before him.

But he did not drink. Resting an elbow on the table, he
dropped his forehead into one hand, half covering his eyes, and
stayed so, helpless against the images that crowded one another
through his mind: images to haunt his heart and stretch ahead of
him into a future promising nothing but defeat.

‘
Denzell?’

He jumped, dropping his hand. His hostess stood in the
doorway, clad in a pretty pink dressing-robe, and holding up a
candle. Denzell rose at once.

‘
I thought you were still at the dance.’

She came further into the room. ‘I returned early to feed
my little Julia. Is not Osmond with you?’

Denzell shook his head. ‘I don’t know where he is. I have
not seen him since—’

He stopped, recalling just when he had last seen his
friend, at the moment when he had pirated Verena away from
him.

Unice came closer, holding the candle up. There was concern
in her features.

‘
Denzell, you look dreadful. What in the world is the
matter?’

A great sigh escaped him, and he sank back down into the
chair, looking away from her. But it did not occur to him to
prevaricate. He was glad rather to have someone to whom to unburden
his soul.

‘
Oh, Unice, I am sick at heart. I have ruined
everything. Though indeed I had no intention—I did not even
know…
which was why, I believe. I shocked myself into a too
precipitate declaration and—oh, the deuce, I wish I were
dead!’

Unice tutted. She retrieved his coat from the floor and
laid it on the back of a chair. Then, with an air of determination,
she pulled out another chair for herself and sat, setting down the
candle on the table between them. Laying her hand over Denzell’s,
she squeezed it a little.

‘
Come now, it cannot be as bad as all that. You have had
some sort of disagreement with Verena, I take it?’

‘
Disagreement!’

‘
Well, what then?’

‘
I kissed her.’

Unice sighed in relief. ‘Lord, Denzell, is that
all?’

He looked round. ‘It is not all. And I could have done
nothing more prejudicial to my chances.’

‘
Oh, fiddle. I dare say she may have been angry with you,
but—’

‘
Oh, no, she was not angry. She was—’ He stopped,
sighing again. ‘To tell you the truth, I don’t know how to describe
it. She responded to me at first. She melted like snow in a thaw.
For a moment it was quite as if we
belonged
together, as
if she loved me just as intensely as I love her.’

Unice sat up, clasping her hands together. ‘Then you do
love her. Oh, Denzell, that is splendid!’

‘
Splendid, ha!’ Denzell seized his glass, and tossed off the
brandy, putting the vessel down with a snap. ‘Do you know what she
said? After kissing me back with all the fervour I could wish, mark
you, she said she could never love me, or anyone, and that I should
take my love elsewhere for she would never accept it.’

‘
She said that?’

‘
And a great deal more besides. She even said she was sorry.
Sorry!’

‘
But, Denzell, what is there in that to distress you so?’
exclaimed Unice. ‘It is obvious she was denying her own
feelings.’

Struck, Denzell gazed at her. Was it possible? ‘What makes
you say so?’

‘
Consider a moment. Here is Verena, whom we know to be
sorely troubled by some difficulty that concerns her mama. Has she
shown any warmth towards any gentleman? No, she has not. Yet when
you kiss her—’

‘
I only kissed her,’ put in Denzell, on the defensive,
‘because I had that instant realised I had fallen in love with her.
I told her so, too.’

‘
Even better. You declare yourself, and kiss her, and she
responds favourably. I promise you, she could not have done so had
she been indifferent. She must have struggled at once, and likely
struck you into the bargain. She didn’t, did she?’

‘
Not with words,’ agreed Denzell, reliving a little of the
painful dismay he had experienced at Verena’s wholehearted
rejection.

But Unice had not finished. ‘Denzell, you must
forgive me for speaking so free, but think of this. Verena may be
master of her emotions under normal circumstances, but I cannot
suppose she can have had an opportunity to learn to control
those
sort of sensations.’

A glow of warmth drove away some of Denzell’s gloom. Even
the memory of Verena in his arms had the power to move him. What if
she, too, had been conscious of an equal strength of passion? He
recalled how the cool, calm, and exquisitely polite Verena had
vanished at his touch. A surge of hope rose in his
chest.

‘
You mean her true feelings were in that kiss?’

‘
Which she afterwards denied,’ agreed Unice. ‘Out of
confusion, in all probability.’

The hope sank a little. Confusion, perhaps. But
something more. Something so strong he doubted he had power to
shift it, just as Verena had said. He could hear her voice
now.
I wear an iron
shield
.

‘
Not confusion, Unice,’ he said, ‘but the bugbear that
plagues her life. The thing that threw up this mask she wears. How
the devil am I to find my way past that? I don’t even know what it
may be.’

Unice sighed. ‘Would I could help you, but I cannot. She
has not confided in me.’

A thought struck him, and he seized his hostess’s
hand. ‘But she might, Unice. Especially now. If you were to go to
her on
my
behalf, pleading my excuses and conveying my
regrets—for she cannot realise but that you must be privy to my
actions—’

‘
Yes, but will she then not believe I will pass on anything
she says to you?’ objected Unice.

‘
You will, in any event,’ Denzell pointed out, ‘and I will
not have her deceived. It may even be that she will feel safe
enough to send a message by you in that manner.’

Unice blinked at him. ‘Safe?’

Denzell groaned, leaning back in his chair with a gesture
of helplessness. ‘There’s the rub, Unice. She is afraid of me—I
don’t know why.’

‘
If that is so,’ Unice mused, ‘then it must be because of
the way she feels about you.’

If he could but believe that. He shook his head, saying in
despairing tones, ‘What’s the use of speculating? I feel as though
I don’t know anything any more.’

Unice patted his hand. ‘Leave it to me. I promise you, if I
discover nothing else, I will find out what her feelings are
towards you.’

A disgusted voice spoke from the doorway. ‘Don’t tell me
you are allowing yourself to become embroiled in Hawk’s amours,
Unice.’

They both jumped, turning towards the intruder. Unice was
the first to find her tongue, scolding at once.

‘
Osmond, what a fright you gave me!’

‘
Never mind that,’ said her husband, strolling into the
room. ‘A pretty scene, I must say. I ought to call you out, Hawk,
drinking alone with my wife in the middle of the night. In
shirtsleeves, too. And she in her dressing gown!’

‘
Oh, be quiet, Ossie,’ said Denzell. ‘I am in no mood for
your nonsensical gibes tonight.’

‘
Osmond,’ said Unice, rapping on the table. ‘Denzell has had
a most upsetting evening. He is in difficulties with
Verena.’

‘
Ha!’ triumphed Osmond. ‘Let that be a lesson to you not to
cut in on a fellow when he is about to dance. Unice, do you know
what—’

‘
Osmond, he is
in love
with
Verena.’

Arrested, Osmond gaped at his friend. ‘In love?
Hawk?’

‘
What the devil is so fantastic about it?’ demanded
Denzell.

Deuce take it, had his erstwhile conduct been so outrageous
that it seemed impossible to his friend that he could have fallen
in love? Not that he had recognised the condition in himself. Now
his unprecedented distaste for the Season made sense, as did his
avoidance of females which had been noted by his
friends.

‘
Yes, he is in love,’ averred Unice, ‘although he has but
just discovered it himself. Isn’t that so, Denzell?’

A faint laugh escaped him. ‘I was so blind, yes. Much good
may the discovery do me, however.’

‘
Don’t say that. All will be well. I am determined that it
should be. Particularly if I discover that her feelings match your
own, as I am certain will be found to be the case.’

‘
Hey! Not so fast, Unice. If my fool of a friend fancies
himself in love, that is one thing. But I’m dashed if I’ll have you
involve yourself in the matter.’

Unice stared up at him. ‘I cannot believe I am hearing you
say such a thing, Osmond. After all that I owe Verena—and Denzell
is your best friend.’

‘
But, dash it, Unice, you know what the fellow’s like,’
protested her spouse.

‘
It’s true, Ossie,’ Denzell cut in, unwontedly
meek. ‘I
was
a flirt. I did at the start intend
just what you imagine with Verena. But all that is
changed.’

Osmond whistled. ‘You don’t mean you really are in love
with the chit?’ Then he drew in a sharp breath. ‘Don’t tell me you
are thinking of marrying her.’

‘
If I could ever persuade her to have me, yes.’

‘
She
will
have you,
Denzell,’ Unice urged. ‘You have only to be
patient.’

‘
You’re mad,’ Osmond said. ‘You know nothing about the girl.
What is her background? Who is she? Dash it, Hawk, how can you even
think of marrying her?’

‘
What do you imagine I care for all of that?’

‘
You have to care, dash it. You’ve a title to think
of.’

Denzell almost snorted. What nonsense was this? ‘Deuce take
it, Ossie, I’m only going to be a baron. Do you imagine I am like
old man Chaceley, too high in the instep to think of anything but a
good match?’

He stopped, aware that both his host and hostess were
staring at him in amazement.

‘
Chaceley?’ repeated Osmond in a blank tone.

‘
Denzell, do you realise what you have just said?’ asked
Unice, awed. ‘Who is “old man Chaceley”?’