Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] (9 page)

"I recall I did run into her at some affair," Pax said thinking back to the days after he returned from the war. "A Venetian breakfast or something else exceedingly boring."

"Can't imagine why they call them that. I've been to Venice, and I can tell you they have no such thing. Just dried up little pastries and a lot of gesturing Italians. She said you looked well." Like an advancing army, Nell rolled on. "Said she thought you were courting Lady Wentwater's niece. Can't remember her name."

"Cecily?" Pax asked helpfully, staring back at the bird-bright eyes of his aunt.

"Ah, yes. I'm sure that's the one." She cocked her white head, squinting her eyes as though trying to remember. "Quite pretty, I hear."

"I'd say so. But then you'll have an opportunity to see for yourself. By a fateful happenstance, Cecily and her mother are staying here."

"How curious!" Lambent brown eyes traded intelligence with laughing black ones. Satisfied for the moment, Nell placed her cup on the tray and fought her way out of the cushions, aided by Pax's expertly placed hand. "Do you keep country hours here?"

"Usually. But with guests, Winters unbends and permits us to eat disgustingly late. You'll have plenty of time for a rest before dinner." He ushered her into the hall and the waiting arms of the ever-faithful abigail Druscilla.

Leslie sat on the window seat waiting for the final dinner bell. She wished she could have a tray in her room but knew her absence would excite comment. Running into Pax at breakfast had been painful enough. She was awkward and embarrassed in his presence. He obviously put her behavior down to pique at his refusal to let her attend the masquerade and attempted to make peace by offering to take her fishing. She had begged off, all but running from the room.

Later she, Jacko and Manji made arrangements to leave Windhaven. Although the two old men knew something had prompted the decision, Leslie remained uncommunicative about her reasons. She merely said it was time.

Just a few more days and she would never see Pax again.

At the sound of the bell Leslie rose, moving slowly, as though she had aged overnight. She walked across to the mirror. Turning before the glass, she examined herself critically. It surprised her that her face looked the same. Perhaps a little paler, but there was nothing to indicate that her heart was breaking at the thought of leaving Windhaven.

"Stop your preening, miss. The company's waiting."

Leslie jumped guiltily as Jacko's gravelly voice rasped in the silent room. Since her morning announcement that they would be leaving, the old man had been watching her constantly. She had refused to discuss where she had been during the storm, but he knew her well enough to surmise that something catastrophic had happened. Jacko saw her shadowed eyes and the listless droop of her body. Although he was eager for her confidence, Leslie turned from him, burying her secrets deep within herself.

"Take a damper, Jacko. I'm going. And no need to wait up. I'll be tucked up proper, right after dinner. I'm tired tonight." She opened her bureau, searching in the jewelry box. "Jacko, have you seen the Magdelena? It's not in here."

"When did you wear it last?" the old man's face screwed up in concentration.

Leslie thought back, trying to remember which cravat she had pinned it to. Suddenly a vision of black satin floated before her eyes, and she groaned inwardly as she realized the Magdelena was pinned to the mask she had worn with her costume. This morning when she had retrieved the clothes from the boatshed she discovered the loss of the scarf. She must have dropped it in the woods. The Magdelena stickpin was one of the few remembrances she had of her parents. Her eyes closed at the pain of her loss.

"Are you all right, Leslie?"

Jacko's voice came from a great distance. Leslie shook herself, aware of the old man's watery eyes, filled with concern for her pallor.

"Don't cosset me, Jacko," the girl snapped. "I was just trying to remember. It'll turn up."

Jacko sniffed at her response. Silently indignant, he picked lint from her brown velvet jacket, pulling the material in the back so that it lay smoother on her frame. His rheumy eyes checked that Leslie's buff pantaloons were securely tucked into her spotless Hessians. Then with a final tug of his gnarled fingers, he flicked a recalcitrant fold of lace on her cravat.

"Mind now. Eat something. According to Cook, you've barely touched a morsel today. Soon you'll look like a trussed chicken on a pauper's table."

The image brought a smile to Leslie's lips, and it was still there as she eased her way into the drawing room. Her eyes immediately sought Pax, finding him leaning over the chair of an unknown old lady. His light blue jacket set off the darkness of his eyes and the midnight color of his hair. Leslie viewed his handsome features with a glow of pride. Then her eyes dipped to his mouth, and a warm blush crept up her cheeks as she remembered the feel of his lips against her own. She started to turn away but heard her name called and, feet dragging, she walked toward her guardian.

"Aunt Nell, I would like to present my ward, Sir Leslie Lathrup. Leslie, this is Lady Titwiliver."

Though nervous, she gave a creditable bow, straightening under the curious eyes of the old woman. Leslie blinked several times, taking in the magnificent splendor of Lady Titwiliver's toilette. Masses of orange-striped muslin floated around the woman, resembling a gypsy tent Leslie had once seen at a fair. Three large feathers, dyed orange to match, trembled atop the clustered white curls on the woman's head. A gaudy display of diamonds sparkled at throat and wrists. The hand holding the orange-feathered fan glittered with rings in what, to Leslie's eyes, appeared to be every color in the rainbow.

"Impressive, ain't it." Nell's eyes twinkled with shared humor at the stunned look on Leslie's face.

"Top of the trees, Lady Titwiliver!"

"How long have you been bear-leading this young scalawag, Pax? Can't imagine you'd be the most sterling example for an unbreeched lad," Nell huffed.

"Leslie came just after father died. Must be five years now," said Pax shaking his head at the passage of time.

"And you off at the war. Fine guardian you've been!"

"Beg pardon, milady," Leslie interjected. "Pax left me in good hands with a brace of tutors and a houseful of servants. I've never lacked for anything, except of course it was always best when Pax was here."

Leslie could feel her cheeks redden, and, embarrassed at her quick defense, she avoided her guardian's eye. Lady Titwiliver's face wore a look of surprise, and the girl was appalled that she might have offended the woman by being too outspoken.

"Well said, young sir. It shows good breeding to be able to speak up for oneself." Nell raised her lorgnette, searching the features of the young boy shifting his feet nervously in front of her. "Lathrup? Now I wonder. I once knew some Lathrups."

Leslie was saved from a further discussion of her family as Cecily and Lady Cleavon entered the room. All eyes turned to absorb the lovely picture of innocence posed in the doorway. Taking advantage of the shift in attention, Leslie put as much distance as she could between herself and Lady Titwiliver. She had to admire the whisper of silver chiffon that clung to Cecily's figure. It was a more daring style than could be worn by a debutante, with a décolletage that bordered on the indecent.

"Oh, Pax, I'm so sorry to be late. I hope you haven't been waiting long," Cecily cooed, her tone carefully modulated to sound breathless yet contrite.

Sweeping lashes fluttered in dismay as Cecily hurried to Pax's side. A soft white-gloved hand stole out to touch his sleeve in apology. Leslie watched in annoyance the woman's performance of "beauty in disgrace".

"Surely, my dear, I would be a boor indeed if I regretted waiting for so lovely a vision," Pax said heartily, looking startled at his own words.

Leslie ground her teeth wondering how he could endure Cecily's blatant attempts to force a compliment. Those melting hazel eyes could take no one in. Since the woman had arrived at Windhaven, those same eyes had assessed every article on the estate as though readying it for the auctioneer's block. If asked, Cecily could probably guess Pax's worth to the nearest guinea. Leslie rolled her eyes in disgust as the accomplished belle made her addresses to Lady Titwiliver.

Since there were only five of them at table, dinner was served in the gardenlike conservatory. A large round table gleamed with silver and crystal. Varicolored flowers trailed artistically across the lace cloth. For the most part, Leslie tried to efface herself from the conversation, answering only when directly questioned. She was aware of Lady Titwiliver's puzzled gaze, from time to time, and the frown that came and went on the older woman's forehead. Leslie could sense danger in every pore. As each course and its obligatory removes arrived, Leslie fidgeted in agony, waiting for the interminable meal to end.

"But Lady Titwiliver," Cecily exclaimed, "I can't conceive of a woman of your years traveling so much. I would find it positively exhausting."

Pax hid a smile behind his hastily raised napkin as his aunt bristled at the rash mention of her advanced years.

"You youngsters have no stamina," she snapped. "At your age, we didn't spend so much time reclining on couches and pampering ourselves in carriages. Right, Lady Cleavon?"

"Y-yes, of course, dear lady." Cecily's mother much preferred to remain in the background and was surprised to have her opinion solicited. "A-as I remember it, we walked a good bit."

"Really, mother! You sound like a veritable Amazon," Cecily remarked dampeningly.

Lady Titwiliver's eyes narrowed as the thoroughly cowed woman retreated beneath the withering stare of her daughter. Saucy chit needed a thorough set down, Nell muttered.

"Right you are, Lady Cleavon." Orange feathers dipped and shimmied, much to the entire company's fascination. "Walking is a must when traveling. One must amble around to really get to know a country. Suitably accompanied, of course. Some of the outlandish places I've visited were not always the first stare of respectability. Native bazaars, camel sales, slave auctions and such. All so colorful."

"You'll put me to the blush at my own table," Pax laughed in delight. "Slave auctions, indeed."

"Remember, nevvie. I know a great many tales of your early life that you would as lief not have me bandy about," Nell replied haughtily to the grinning Duke. "Never doubt my word. I did attend a slave auction, although I will admit it was quite a paltry affair. I was in India at the time."

Leslie's body tensed as she felt Pax's eyes light upon her. She gripped her napkin in her lap, wanting nothing more than to run from the room.

"My ward was born and raised in India, Aunt Nell," Pax explained to the woman whose curious eyes once more swung to the young boy at the table. "He's only been in England these five years past."

"India is a wonderful country, Leslie." Lady Titwiliver smiled warmly across the table at the embarrassed lad who was now the focus of attention. "I'm sure when it's dreary and cold here you must miss the hot, spicy air of your birthplace."

"Yes, milady," Leslie mumbled.

Pax frowned at his ward, wondering at the lackluster response. Normally the boy was eager to reminisce about India and his life there. He noticed the pallor of the lad and wondered if he were sickening.

"Leslie was born in Peshawar," Pax interjected, hoping to encourage the boy to more spirited conversation.

"Ah ha! Peshawar is where I attended the slave auction," Nell cried in triumph. "I remember it so well because it was a perfectly dreadful day. Rain and more rain. An oh-so-proper Prussian charge d'affair, Friedrich Wolfram, was helping to relieve my boredom. We were on our way to a christening party when I begged him to stop at the auction. He was quite scandalized by my behavior, but I personally felt he was only ruffled at the damage done to his uniform. It was quite a gorgeous uniform, I will have to admit. His entire chest was fairly encrusted with medals. Gaudy of course, but then Prussians do so love to display their valor with flashy ribbons and such."

"The slave auction?" Pax prodded.

"Oh, yes. Well, as I was saying, it was raining. We stopped at this tent, just flung up willy-nilly in the center of the square. Robed figures standing about looking stoic. I was quite disappointed. Very scrawny specimens on display. I had always imagined burly-chested giants with sweaty chests, stripped--" At Pax's warning cough, Nell flung him an exasperated look but continued less colorfully, " Well, it wasn't quite what I had expected. When I mentioned this to Friedrich, he was quite put out. Here he'd ruined his uniform and I wasn't satisfied. Hardly gallant on my part and of course he lectured me all the way to the christening party at the Lath...." Lady Titwiliver's voice trailed off into silence.

A look of bewilderment crossed the old woman's face. She cocked her head sideways, her eyes focused on some inner scene. For a moment her lids widened, then fluttered closed as she fell back against her chair in a swoon. Pax leaped to his feet, concern written clearly in the lines of his face as he bent over Nell. The Cleavons, fluttering in excitement, simultaneously reached for their reticules and the ever-present smelling salts. In the ensuing confusion of caring for the old woman, Leslie escaped to her room.

With a shaking hand, she touched the music box on the bedside table. She lifted the lid and listened to the tinny melody as the notes trembled in the silent room. Perhaps she had always known there would be a day of reckoning. For in the moment before she fainted, Lady Titwiliver stared into Leslie's eyes, and she knew the older woman was aware of her identity. Turning the figure of the fawn, Leslie waited for the drawer to open. Suspecting she would be called for an explanation, she pulled out the folded papers and tucked them into a pocket of her jacket.

At the light scratching on the door, she opened it to find a footman waiting with a summons from Pax to attend him in the library.

"Really, Aunt Nell. Can't this wait until morning?"