The Hourglass (17 page)

She said the first thing that entered her mind: “Where have you been?”

Lorraine answered with a titter: “Oh, here and about. Mostly London. Grosvenor Square, you know.”

“No, tonight. Were you here all night?”

“Here at the assembly? Why, yes, except for the earlier private reception.”

Genie thought she heard bitterness in Lorraine’s voice,
that a mere baron and his wife had not been elevated enough to be among the chosen guests. How it must rankle her that Genie now took precedence.

Lorraine made her false laugh again. “Such a crush, don’t you know.”

Too crowded to find the sister everyone was talking about? Too thick with bodies that she could not locate the new earl and his scandalous bride, while Genie sat alone, forsaken, in plain view? “I see,” Genie said. “I did not notice you, either, but then I did not expect you to be here.” She stepped back, not-so-accidentally treading on her husband’s toes. He’d had the guest list, she knew, yet had never warned her.

He muttered a low curse but kept the smile on his face. Genie knew he would support her in whatever she did. She also knew he did not want any scenes, not after he’d worked so hard to see his countess made acceptable. She could not, therefore, and regrettably, throw a cup of punch in her sister’s face and tell her to go to the devil, that she was no longer the same innocent girl who could be used for Lorraine’s purposes.

“Yes, well, it has been a pleasure to see you again,” she said instead. “I suppose we shall meet at some affair or other. Give my regards to your family.” She turned to Ardeth, ready to walk out alone if he did not come with her.

One of the princesses stood in the way. “If whole countries can make peace,
Liebchen
,
you and your sister can, too. Go find a place to talk.” Genie would not have listened. The Ziftsweig sisters might have crowns, but they were neither her sovereigns nor her mentors. They were foreign and fast and fat and busybodies.

But Lorraine said, “Please.”

Ardeth leaned closer to whisper in Genie’s ear: “This might be your only chance to have me singe her eyelashes off, but better we do it in private.”

That brought a smile to her lips. She nodded, and Sir Kelvin escorted them to a small chamber down a private corridor. The room was filled with chinoiserie, lacquered cabinets, jade figurines, exquisite vases. Genie clutched her punch cup, half-empty as it was, lest she be tempted to toss one of the regent’s collection. Ardeth’s dynasty porcelains were prettier. Or had been, anyway.

Genie was avoiding her sister, she knew. But Sir Kelvin was directing a servant to bring a tea tray for the ladies and decanters for the gentlemen, who were eyeing each other carefully, like strange dogs. Genie liked that, not that Ardeth was ready to spring to her defense, but that Roger was safeguarding his own wife. After her marriage to Elgin, she had learned to appreciate such protectiveness in a man. Not that she needed to be shielded, Genie told herself. She could fight her own battles. So when the servants had left, she took a chair some distance from the fire, leaving the warmer sofas to Ardeth and Cormack. She gestured toward Lorraine to sit opposite her, if indeed she wished to speak, but then Genie did not give her the chance.

“Why did you not approach me sooner?” she bluntly asked before her sister was seated.

Lorraine smoothed her skirts, then examined a carved ivory horse on a nearby table. “My son would admire this. He is too young for such an expensive bauble, but he does like horses.”

Genie cleared her throat.

“Oh, did you need a cup of tea for your voice? I swear, one had to shout to be heard in the ballroom.” Lorraine started to get up, to fetch a cup, but Genie motioned her to stay seated.

“My throat is fine, and I still have some punch, thank you. I still wish to know why you did not seek me out earlier.”

Lorraine rubbed her fingers against the flanks of the ivory horse. “I was afraid, if you must know.”

Heavens, had anyone else seen him play with fire? “Afraid of my husband?”

“Ardeth?” Lorraine appeared confused. “Why, is he dangerous? He seemed the perfect gentleman to me.”

“Of course he is. I misspoke. What were you afraid of, then?”

Lorraine shrugged. “I was afraid of being tarred with the same brush if I associated with you.”

“Is your position in society so precarious, then, that your own sister could damage it? I wonder what mischief you have been up to recently. Lying? Cheating? Flirting?”

“Nothing, I swear. I am a respectable matron now, a mother.”

“Yet you feared being seen with me?”

“Very well, if you must know, I worried about what you might say. Of what you might tell Roger.”

“About?”

“You are not making this easy, are you, little sister?”

“I am not so little anymore,” Genie answered.

“No, you are not.” Lorraine looked at the ruby Genie wore, the diamond tiara, the gown that must have cost a king’s ransom. “You have grown into a beauty, and a countess. So you have to admit, it all worked out for the best.”

Genie set her punch cup down, out of temptation’s reach. “The best? Tell Elgin that. He is dead, and he never forgave me.”

“Why? It was me he should have hated.”

“He loved you and would not hear of your treachery. No one believed you sent me out to the garden, wearing your shawl. No one believed you sent our parents out to find us, or that I was unwilling in his embrace when he thought he held you. You did not say anything to restore my reputation or to avert the disaster of my marriage. Nothing, Lorraine. You said nothing.”

“Now it is time I said I was sorry.”

“Now, because I have been taken to the beau monde’s bosom, and you are afraid I will cut you, the way I have been cut? You are afraid of a countess’s influence?”

Lorraine shook her head. “It is Roger.”

Genie sat back. “I see. He never knew it was you who arranged the debacle, did he? He never realized that you wriggled out of your previous betrothal to Elgin by foisting him on me, and then wept your way into another, more advantageous engagement.”

“No. He never knew. He married me out of honor.”

“His, not yours.”

Lorraine nodded in acknowledgment. “I could not confess and ruin everything, even after you left.”

“But surely you expected to see me again. I was wed to your husband’s own brother. We would have come to Macklin Manor for holidays when the war was over.”

“No, Lady Cormack agreed it was best that you not be invited. She thought—”

“I know what she thought, that I was a doxy who had seduced Elgin. But Roger would have wanted to see his brother. I could have told Roger anytime.”

“I hoped he would not believe you if that day ever came.”

“So you would have stolen poor Elgin’s family from him, too, to keep your secret hidden?”

“No!” Lorraine shouted. Her husband started to stand, but Ardeth laid a hand on his sleeve, so he subsided. “No,” Lorraine said in a lower voice. “I never meant Elgin to die in battle or be estranged from his parents. One thing just led to another.”

“To protect your lies.” Just as she was protecting Elgin now, by letting Lorraine believe he had died in battle: Lady Cormack would never tell of her son’s disgrace. Genie sighed and said she understood.

“Thank you. You see, we have had a good marriage. But every time I see the Duke of Eldert’s daughter, the one they were touting for his bride, I wonder if Roger is wishing things had turned out differently. I never know if he is truly fond of me or simply too honorable to act otherwise. I do not know if he keeps mistresses or visits houses of convenience. I will never know, and that is agony. I have paid for my sins, Genie, every day of my marriage.”

“But not as I have paid for them.” Genie thought of the horrid months in Canada, the desperate months in Portugal, or when Elgin told people she was his sister so he could spend more time with his bachelor friends. “No, not nearly.”

“Elgin was a good catch for you. He was good enough to be my betrothed, after all.”

“A good catch? He was not a trout to be landed on my line! He loved you. And if not for your conniving, he would have married you, stayed to help our father with the lands, then taken them over. He never wanted to be a soldier. He never wanted to follow the army without the comforts he was used to. He never wanted me!”

Now Ardeth looked as if he would intervene. Genie waved him back.

“Ardeth wants you,” Lorraine said.

“Ardeth is different. Sometimes I do not think even he knows what he wants.”

“Faugh. Look at him watching your every move. The man is head over teakettle in love with you.”

“No, he looks upon me as a responsibility.”

“Then you are still that foolish little chit, if you cannot see what I see.”

Genie ignored her. What did Lorraine know of Ardeth, after all? She could not know that he intended to leave in six months—five now—or that he was planning on giving most of his fortune away. “So why have you let me be in the same room with your baron?”

“To beg you not to say anything. To beg you for forgiveness. I am a better woman now.”

“Now that you have what you want.”

“Time has made you beautiful, Genie, but it has made you cruel.”

“You are right. I have no need to be nasty.”

“Please understand, I did not simply want Roger’s title. I wanted his affection, too. I will never have my husband’s unconditional love. I have accepted that. But I do have my son.”

Genie could not resist asking, “How old is he? What is his name?”

“My Peter is nearly three, and more precious than life itself. He is all blond curls like I had, although he has your green eyes, I think, and Roger’s nose. He knows some of his letters and can count to ten. He seldom cries and never throws tantrums like some of my friends’ children. He is an angel.”

He was Genie’s own nephew. “I would like to see this paragon sometime. Is he in the country?”

“No, his health is worrisome, so we are in town, where the physicians are more learned than a country sawbones. Not that they have cured his cough.”

“I am sorry,” Genie said, and meant it.

“Then you do forgive me?”

“I…I suppose I must forgive you, since you ask. Every sermon and Bible teaching demands it.” Genie thought Ardeth would agree. He had spoken of atoning for sins to win redemption. How could Genie deny another’s repentance?

Lorraine looked relieved. Before she could consider the matter closed, though, Genie added, “I can forgive, Lorraine, but I can never forget. Does that make sense? I doubt I will trust you again.”

Lorraine brushed aside a tear. “I swear I will never do anything to hurt you. I will put a halt to any rumors, see that your reputation is restored.”

“That was already done, I believe, thanks to Lady Vinross.”

“But we can be seen together. A ride in the park, sharing a box at the opera.”

Both would be more to Lorraine’s benefit than Genie’s now, Genie thought, still doubting her sister’s motives and sincerity. “I have more invitations than I can accommodate.”

“Then I shall plead with Papa to acknowledge you and your marriage, and with Mama to write your name back in the family Bible. I will tell them you were innocent, that now I
realize it was all a misunderstanding. They will be bound to invite you home on your wedding journey or for the Christmas holidays so everyone in the neighborhood can see what a fine lady you are now, a countess.”

“So they will all forgive me for a sin I did not commit?” Genie had ached for her parents’ love for her entire life. Their approval now might be satisfying, but would be far too late. None of her friends in the small community had stood by her, and she found she no longer cared for their good opinion. She shook her head.

“What more can I do?”

“You can introduce me to my nephew. I think that is a good start.”

Chapter Thirteen

Do you believe people can change?” Genie asked while she and Ardeth were waiting outside Carlton House for Campbell to bring their carriage. The night was warm and clear for a change, the air easier to breathe than the overheated, overcrowded, and overly scented rooms inside.

Ardeth looked up at the stars, taking a deep breath. “I live in hope.”

“But can someone truly change at heart? What if a woman has been selfish and spoiled her whole life, getting everything she wants? Can she suddenly stop being that way, do you think?”

“I have heard that acknowledging one’s faults is the first step toward eradicating them. If a person regrets his or her past actions, then they can try to be better. If they feel no remorse, I doubt they will change. But circumstances can also alter,” he reminded her, and himself.

“Yes, Lorraine is a mother now. Perhaps that brings out the best in a female, considering her child’s best interests first. Time will tell, I suppose.”

“It always does,” he said as he helped her into the coach.

Campbell gave Ardeth a jaunty salute as he shut the door behind the earl. From Campbell’s grin, Ardeth gathered that the former soldier had heard of the lord and lady’s success, right there on the carriage line. The rest of the household would know as fast as Campbell could drive through the city streets. It mattered to them, for a servant’s standing among the other butlers, maids, footmen, and drivers depended on the respect given each of their employers. A valet of a loathsome lord, for instance, no matter how well paid, would be pitied, not looked up to by younger gentlemen’s gentlemen.