The Gilded Web (8 page)

“Oh, yes, I know that, Eunice,” he said, the same smile on his face as he had worn downstairs earlier. “But I wanted to marry you, dear.”

“You only think you do, Amberley,” she said, “because you are comfortable with me and we share a friendship. But friendship is not sufficient for a good marriage. At least, for you it is not. You need more. You need passion, and you cannot get passion from me. Only comfort and companionship. We are only an episode, you know. We would have ended sooner or later. It is as well to end our association now when we still like each other a great deal.”

“I will miss you,” he said. “I notice that you are assuming that our affair must end if I marry Miss Purnell.”

“Well, of course it must,” she said. “I know you well enough, Amberley, to realize that you could not be unfaithful to a wife. And I believe you know me well enough to understand that I would not receive another woman's husband. We need feel no guilt over this afternoon. You are not yet betrothed, and I did not know of your obligation. But this is the end now. You must not return.”

“No,” he said. His smile was a little twisted. “I must not.”

“Just tell me one thing,” she said. “Will you be able to make a marriage of it, Amberley? Is there the chance that you will find with this Miss Purnell the passion you will need?”

“I think not,” he said. “But I will make a marriage of it, Eunice. I will owe her that. She is quite blameless in all this, you know. A total innocent. I must spend my life making her a good husband. She was to marry Peterleigh.”

“Then she is a very fortunate lady,” Mrs. Borden said. “Peterleigh is humorless and egotistical. No woman could be happy with him. I would say that her misadventure was most fortunate.”

He grinned unexpectedly. “Thank you, Eunice,” he said. “I must get dressed and leave you now. I must try to find Miss Purnell tonight. If she has the courage or the rashness to go out, she will probably be at either Lady Sharp's soiree or the Higgins' rout. If she is wise, she will stay at home and I shall pay my call tomorrow morning.”

It was impossible to know, Lord Amberley thought a few minutes later as he bent to kiss her cheek, whether Eunice was sorry to see him go or somewhat relieved that she no longer needed to render him a service that she did not enjoy.

L
ADY
M
ADELINE
R
AINE WAS ENJOYING
herself at Lady Sharp's soiree. There were advantages to being two-and-twenty and still neither betrothed nor married, she was discovering with pleased surprise. She had been rather fearful that this year she would be just too old to attract the female friendships and male admiration that had always come her way so easily. She had half-expected to find herself relegated to spinster status.

But it was not so. The younger girls seemed eager to be seen with her and to copy her fashions. And the gentlemen appeared to find her no less attractive for all her declining years. Indeed, they seemed to vie for her attention more than ever. There were three of them now conversing with her and Lady Pamela Paisley.

And one of them was Sir Derek Peignton, the adorable blond giant whom she had not encountered during all her previous Seasons, although he must be close to Edmund in age. She was quite in love with him. She had danced with him twice at the Easton ball and had allowed him to drive her in the park the afternoon before. He had touched his hat and bowed to her on Bond Street that morning when she had deigned to nod and smile at him.

She hoped it was real love. There was something to be said for having had five Seasons in a row and having been free to enjoy them to the full while she saw around her the girls with whom she had made her come-out seasoned matrons already, some of them with more than one child. But there was still that eternal female longing to belong to one man, to have the security of his name. She wanted to be married.

The only trouble was that she also wanted to be in love. And she had an annoying habit of falling in love with the wrong gentlemen or of falling out of love again just when she was thoroughly convinced that she was in forever. She had been in love with Sir Hedley Fairhaven at the start of the Season, though she could not now imagine why. The man was clearly nothing but a fortune hunter. She had probably imagined herself in love merely to assert her independence over Dominic, who had frowned his disapproval the very first time he had seen her dance with Sir Hedley.

Thank goodness at least Edmund did not interfere quite so openly. He had told her during her very first Season that she might choose her own husband, within reason. Those last two words, of course, had more meaning than had at first appeared. She had accused him of going back on his word when he had discovered a note from Lieutenant Harris giving details of their elopement plans and had told her quite plainly that it would not do and that he would not consent to the marriage even if he had to confine her to her room for a year.

But she had admitted long ago that on that occasion he had been quite right. She would not have been happy following the drum and she certainly would not have remained long in love with a man who was well known for his recklessness at cards and for his capacity to outdrink all companions. He had seemed dashing only because he wore a uniform and had a devil-may-care approach to life.

But no one could say that Sir Derek was ineligible—not Edmund, and not even Dominic, who was much harder to please where her suitors were concerned. Sir Derek was elegant and wealthy and charming and very, very handsome. She wanted to be in love with him. She wanted to be married and settled in life, and it would undoubtedly be very glamorous to be married to someone like him.

Madeline gazed around the crowded drawing room, well pleased with the evening. She chattered to the whole group and smiled on them all and exchanged special glances with Sir Derek—she was sure that he felt the same attraction she was feeling.

And she wondered if Miss Purnell was present or about to be. It was rather difficult to look around one for someone one has never seen before, or at least someone one does not remember to have seen before. And how could she possibly ask anyone? Everyone would know perfectly well the reason for her curiosity. It was very probable, of course, that Miss Purnell would not be there. Even if she had planned to come, the scandal would doubtless keep her away.

But Madeline hoped against hope that she would come and that somehow she would be recognizable. And it was very possible that she would be. She would surely have special treatment if she dared to put in an appearance. Madeline desperately wanted to see her. She wanted to see with her own eyes just what a very narrow escape Dominic and Edmund had had.

She still found it hard to believe that Miss Purnell had refused both of them. Under the circumstances the girl appeared to have had little choice but to choose one of them. And anyway, to refuse her two brothers! They were surely two of the handsomest and most eligible gentlemen in town. She had felt very grateful to Miss Purnell when she had first heard of the rejections, and inclined to like the girl. It was only after her first relief that perversely she had started to resent the woman who had refused both her brothers, when they had nobly been prepared to sacrifice their own happiness in order to protect her name.

Madeline was still part of the same group, though standing beside Sir Derek Peignton and in semiprivate conversation with him, when Maisie Baines joined them.

“Good evening, Lady Madeline, Lady Pamela,” she said. She fluttered her fan at the three gentlemen. “You really would not think she would have the nerve, would you?”

Mr. Sheldon looked across the room, over Madeline's shoulder, and raised his quizzing glass to his eye. “One would not expect her to have the
courage,
” he said in tones that set the color rising in Miss Baines's cheeks.

“Grandmama is in the card room,” she said. “But I know she will wish me to remove to the music room now. One cannot be too careful of the company one keeps, Grandmama says.”

Madeline turned her head to see the new arrivals.

“I cannot help feeling sorry for Miss Purnell,” Lady Pamela said. “It is most unfortunate that she went walking alone.”

“Grandmama says that she has come by her just deserts,” Miss Baines said.

Miss Purnell was tall, Madeline saw, and almost exaggeratedly upright in bearing. Her chin was held high. Her face and manner were quite calm and self-possessed. She had very dark hair. She was not pretty. “Handsome” was perhaps a word that would describe her if everything about her did not look quite so severe. Her green gown was simple and unadorned. She wore no jewelry. And her hair, absent of all plumes or ribbons, was dressed in a plain chignon.

She had a hand resting on the arm of a man who resembled her to no small degree. He was taller than she, though not of immense height. He looked strong and agile. Indeed, he did not look as if he belonged in a London drawing room at all. His complexion was sun-darkened. His hair, dark, straight, and thick, was cut unfashionably long. One lock was fallen across his forehead. His face was as severe as his sister's—he must surely be the brother who had gone to fetch her from Edmund's—his jaw set in a hard line, his eyes watching the occupants of the room intently. Madeline did not remember to have seen either one before.

She disliked Miss Purnell on sight. She was proud and haughty. Madeline was very glad she had refused Edmund and Dominic. Madeline would not have enjoyed having such a woman as a sister-in-law.

“Would you like me to conduct you to the music room, Lady Madeline?” Sir Derek asked solicitously.

“No, thank you.” She smiled up at him and felt a certain breathlessness. His gray eyes seemed very close to hers. His shoulders were very broad.

“May I take you to Lady Amberley, then?” he asked.

Madeline looked at him in surprise. “Mama is playing cards with Sir Cedric Harvey,” she said. “I do not think she would enjoy being disturbed by me quite this early, sir.”

He bowed and said no more.

Mr. and Miss Purnell had crossed the room to join that toad Albert Harding-Smythe, Madeline observed. The man had an air of enormous consequence, even though he apparently had very little else to recommend him. She had waltzed with him once the previous year and three times had had to endure his obsequious apologies and his secret leers as his coat front came into contact with her breasts. Since then, the sight of him had been enough to make her shudder.

“Poor Mr. Harding-Smythe is her cousin,” Miss Baines was saying. “How dreadfully embarrassing for him. How can he cut his own kin? She ought not to put him in such a dilemma.”

But if Mr. Harding-Smythe felt the dilemma, he showed no sign of doing so. Madeline watched incredulously as the man waited for brother and sister to come close, and quite deliberately turned his back on them and laughed heartily at something a near neighbor had said or not said. Miss Purnell's chin rose an inch. Mr. Purnell looked dangerous. His dark eyes burned from beneath the shock of fallen hair. He took two glasses of something from the tray of a passing waiter and handed one to his sister.

“She ought not to have come,” Mr. Sheldon said, lowering his quizzing glass. “Poor lady. We live in a cruel society.”

Madeline looked across the room to where Lady Sharp stood with the Marquess of Blaise. Why had she not come to greet the new arrivals? She was looking furiously angry and was glaring in the direction of the Purnells. She said something to the marquess, who raised his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and let his eyes roam insolently over Miss Purnell from head to toe. In the crowded room, a certain space had formed around the pair, who were sipping from their glasses and talking to each other. Miss Purnell's hand was steady, Madeline noticed.

“Forgive me, ma'am,” Sir Derek said in her ear, “but I really believe your mama would wish you to join her in the card room.”

“I am sure Grandmama will be shocked to know that I have been subjected to this embarrassment,” Miss Baines said.

Madeline turned to look at her. “Why do you not remove yourself then,” she said, “and go to the safety and respectability of your grandmother's side? Why just talk about it? Sir Derek, I am sure, will be only too happy to accompany you there.”

Her voice was shaking, she heard with some surprise. She took hold of the side of her gown and held it against her so that she would not brush against Miss Baines as she passed her and walked deliberately away from her group, across the room, and across the empty space. She smiled.

“It is sometimes a disadvantage to arrive late, is it not?” she said gaily. “One finds that everyone's group is formed and everyone chattering so busily that often they do not notice one's arrival.”

Mr. Purnell inclined his head but said nothing. His eyes looked quite decidedly dangerous, Madeline thought when she was unwise enough to look into them. She felt breathless again, as she had a few minutes before when looking into Sir Derek's eyes, but for a quite different reason. She turned her attention to the sister.