The Nobody: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) (11 page)

Chapter XIII

F
or several days after the curricle accident, Caitlin stayed within doors and allowed Aunt Harriet and Emily to pamper her. Her thoughts were in such turmoil she found it difficult to concentrate and almost impossible to sleep, and her listlessness, together with the fairly spectacular bruises she had suffered in the curricle accident, made a sufficient excuse for her to avoid company. First Lord Kilverton, then Mr. Montague and Captain Talgarth, and finally even Sir Egbert sent round to enquire after her health. But it was Emily who appeared downstairs to reply to their kind messages. Caitlin hid in her chamber.

It was most unlike her, but Caitlin had never been so wretchedly unhappy in her life.

She knew it had little or nothing to do with her physical discomfort. It had everything to do with Richard Kilverton. Before he entered her life, she had been tranquilly happy, content with her lot, and enjoying her London holiday. Now she hardly recognized the pale and stormy creature reflected in her mirror.

It was appalling—indeed, it was shocking!—to find herself obsessed with thoughts of a man who was betrothed to another. That went so deeply against her moral code, she never would have believed it possible such a calamity could occur. She was afraid to go among people for fear she would meet him; she was unable to sleep for reliving every conversation she had ever had with him; and she bathed her pillow each night with hot tears, longing for impossible things. Caitlin was furious with herself, distressed by her own waywardness, determined to stop these insane feelings—and terrified that she might feel this way forever.

She was sorely in need of advice, but there was not a soul in whom she could confide. If Caitlin herself was ashamed and confused, she feared Emily would be even more shocked and uncomprehending. Her only other confidante was Lady Serena—and how impossible it would be to tell Serena!

She had heard it said that a green girl invariably fell in love with the man who gave her her first kiss. Well, there could hardly be found a greener girl than herself. Her experience of such matters was less than limited, it was nil. She wondered miserably if that absurd encounter in Curzon Street could really be counted as a kiss. She had nothing to compare it to. She devoutly hoped (however unlikely it seemed to her) that what she felt was, perhaps, just a silly infatuation that would pass as quickly as it came. She had no idea if what she felt was likely to prove lasting. In fact, she was not even sure what it was she felt. Agitation, surely, and melancholy; a strange, terrified exhilaration; and a great deal of misery. The term “lovesick” took on a new meaning for Caitlin—as near as she could tell, what she was experiencing had all the symptoms of malaria!

It would be terrible to see him too soon, before she could command herself. On the other hand, she thought feverishly, perhaps the sooner she saw him the better it might be for her. Perhaps when she met him again she would immediately recover her balance! Her current state of mind might prove to be an unaccountable fit of madness. Not long ago, a friend of Caitlin’s had fancied herself head over heels for an absent suitor, and when he reappeared her feelings had instantly evaporated. Such things could happen.

After all, Lord Kilverton was the rudest and most provoking person of her acquaintance! And apart from that, she hardly knew the man! But this train of thought was dangerous. It caused her to recollect everything she did know of him, and that was a painful process. She knew a great deal about him from Serena, of course, who adored him. Caitlin could not help thinking that a sister’s recommendation was not to be lightly dismissed. Apparently he was a teasing, but kindly, creature of infinite patience and great good nature, generous to a fault, not above showing his little sister the sights of London or teaching her a few tricks worth knowing before her come-out. Most telling of all, there was no one on earth to whom Serena would rather turn in a fix. Praise indeed! But what did Caitlin herself know of him?

It struck her that she had felt drawn to Lord Kilverton even in their first meeting. She could only ascribe her lack of fear, in what surely should have been a frightening and loathsome encounter, to the instant affinity she had felt for the stranger who had accosted her. The very next morning, long before she knew anything about his identity or appearance—for all she knew he could have been a criminal, or physically hideous—she had felt strangely sad to think she would never know her midnight assailant. How could one be so attracted to a voice in the dark?

It was mysterious, and extremely confusing. She had never considered how many clues one picked up from a voice. There was, somehow, knowledge and intimacy shared in what they had said and how they had said it, in the way her mind and his communicated, even in the way they made each other laugh. She had never realized how irresistibly appealing a shared sense of humor could be.

She was unable to convince herself she was deceived in him, or that it was her own foolish fancy weaving his portrait. She knew enough to the contrary. She felt safe with him, even in the most compromising of situations. She felt sure of his protection, even when he was at his most provoking. Even the quickness of his apology when he knew himself to be in the wrong spoke to her of a gentleman worthy of her regard. Besides, she dimly realized, it hardly mattered to her if he had feet of clay, or if he continued to goad her into losing her temper every time they met. She could not imagine her feelings for Lord Kilverton altering under any circumstances.

This was terrifying.

She must put him out of her thoughts. She must banish his image from her heart. Richard Kilverton was not for her. A portionless nobody from Hertfordshire, a girl no man had ever seriously pursued, raising her eyes to an earl’s heir! Why, it was absurd! And to be looking twice at an engaged
parti
was scandalous, whoever he might be! No, she must recover from this appalling greensickness. And, most important, no one must ever know she had suffered it.

Thus it was that when Lady Serena Kilverton paid a morning call on the fourth day after the curricle accident, Miss Campbell smoothed her hair, took a deep breath, and came downstairs. Aside from her wrist, which was still tightly wrapped, she had mostly recovered from the hurts suffered in the accident. She was determined to recover her spirits as well.

As she entered the morning room she checked on the threshold, a little startled to find the room unexpectedly full of people. Lady Lynwood was conversing earnestly with Lady Selcroft over tea, Serena was seated rather stiffly on the edge of a high-backed chair, and Emily and Captain Talgarth were standing together in the window embrasure, oblivious to the world. The expression on her sister’s face as she gazed at Captain Talgarth stopped Caitlin in her tracks with a queer little pang compounded of astonishment, joy, sadness—and envy. Events had apparently been moving swiftly during Caitlin’s indisposition. Oh, poor Serena!

Her entrance caused something like a sensation. Lady Lynwood dropped her spoon, exclaiming. “Here is our dear Caitlin!” Emily ran forward, crying, “Caitie! I am so glad you are better!” and Serena rose with an overbright smile to green her friend and settle her in the most comfortable chair Even Lady Selcroft, in her stately way, gave Caitlin a gentle welcome and said something kind. Caitlin began to feel a bit overwhelmed. When Emily attempted to stuff a pillow behind her back, she laughed and waved her away.

“No, really, Emily, that is the outside of enough! Anyone would think I had lumbago! I am perfectly comfortable, thank you.”

After a searching glance at her sister’s face and hovering a moment more, Emily seemed satisfied Caitlin was speaking the truth. She gladly returned to Captain Talgarth, completely unaware that their absorption in each other could give pain to anyone. Lady Lynwood and Lady Selcroft resumed their conversation and Caitlin looked worriedly at Serena, whose gaiety certainly seemed a trifle forced.

Serena correctly interpreted her friend’s expression of concern, and gave a short, unhappy, laugh. “Well, anyone can see how the land lies,” she told Caitlin, tossing her head with a great show of indifference. “I suppose I have been a bigger fool than I had any idea of. But you are the only person I took into my confidence, thank heaven, and you would never betray me.”

“You may be sure of that, Serena.” Caitlin did not wish to comment on what she feared was the truth of it—that Serena’s heart had been so firmly pinned to her sleeve, any number of persons probably guessed her secret. Her own heart, newly awakened to the pain of hopeless love, ached for her friend and she cast about for something comforting to say.

“This comes as a surprise to me, as well,” she began tentatively. “I was never more astonished in my life than to discover Captain Talgarth in our morning room, I promise you! I have not spoken with Emily—”

“Oh, I am not imagining a conspiracy,” said Serena swiftly. “I am sure this turn of events was completely unplanned. I do not accuse you of hiding anything from me.” She smiled crookedly. “The most disagreeable feature of the business, to me, is that I believe they will suit each other admirably. Pray do not think it gives me pleasure to acknowledge it! But to speak truth, although I always thought Captain Talgarth was the perfect man for me, I never quite succeeded in deluding myself that I was the perfect woman for him—try as I might.” She could not repress a sigh, and looked so despondent it quite wrung Caitlin’s heart.

“Be comforted, Serena. If you are not the woman for him, I am persuaded you will also find he was not the man for you. I am not well-acquainted with Captain Talgarth, but I must tell you I could not picture you happy with him. You seemed to have so little in common, either in temperament or tastes, it could not but strike me how very ill-matched; you would have been. You are so lively, and he so grave! Surely some part of you must have wondered if you would not, eventually, have been bored with such a paragon.”

“Yes, my incurable honesty!” said Serena, with a shaky laugh. “You are perfectly right, of course. I fell in love with a pretty face and let my imagination run away with me, endowing him with every amiable quality.” She gazed wistfully across the room at the captain’s handsome profile. “Unfortunately, Captain Talgarth actually does possess every amiable quality, which made it easier to deceive myself. The answer to the maiden’s prayer, in fact! But even I can see he is not the answer to
this
maiden’s prayer. The more time I spent in his company the more oppressive I found it. What a pity he was such a long time in India! I might have known my heart much sooner, and fallen out of love with him long ago.”

Caitlin was glad to encourage this frame of mind, and unburdening herself to a sympathetic ear seemed to help Serena, but eventually Serena stopped in midsentence.

“Never mind about my maudlin affairs! I must tell you the latest
on-dit.
You will never believe it, but the other day Edward Montague tried to force a quarrel onto my wicked Uncle Oswald.”

“Good heavens! Are you sure?”

“Perfectly sure! One hears it whispered about everywhere.” Caitlin was mystified. “It sounds very unlike him. Whatever do you suppose he meant by it?”

Serena shook her head. “My dear, I’ve no idea. Gentlemen are such odd creatures, there’s no knowing what they will do next.”

And the two girls immediately put their heads together, relieving their aching hearts for a moment in mutually condemning the unaccountable behavior of Men in general and Gentlemen in particular.

Chapter XIV

Wednesday evening arrived, and Lady Lynwood contentedly shepherded her nieces to Almack’s Assembly Rooms. She was enjoying this Season enormously, and was in a fair way to thinking it an unqualified success. Little Emily had attracted a substantial amount of attention, and now looked to be safely on the road to making an extremely advantageous marriage—and a love match! Why, it could hardly be better! How pleased Amabel would be! Lady Lynwood had written a lengthy, affectionate, and extremely cryptic letter to her sister, so full of hints, arch suggestions, and mysterious allusions as to be virtually incomprehensible—particularly as Amabel was wholly unacquainted with various persons whom Harriet discreetly identified only by their initials.

Lady Lynwood, unaware that she had written anything obscure, was happy in the belief that her letter had brought unparalleled joy to her sister. If only dear Caitlin could be comfortably established! But alas, it seemed that was not to be. Fortunately, no one had seriously anticipated that a husband could be found for Caitlin, so Lady Lynwood would not repine. On the contrary, the Season had been great fun, and if Emily were to marry Captain Talgarth Lady Lynwood would be very well satisfied with the results of her labors—very well satisfied indeed!

Both girls were looking lovely tonight, thought Lady Lynwood happily. It was exceedingly fortunate that pastels became little Emily so well; she showed to great advantage in her modest, but extremely elegant, ball dress of white spider-gauze trimmed in pale blue. And Caitlin had finally consented to accept, and wear, the sea green silk Lady Lynwood had had made up especially for her. Her resistance to accepting such an expensive gift had vanished seemingly overnight, much to Lady Lynwood’s delight, and she looked every bit as stunning as one had hoped she would. Lady Lynwood found it deeply gratifying to have her taste and judgment in matters of dress vindicated by the picture her nieces presented tonight. She swelled with pride to see so many heads turning when they entered the portals of Almack’s.

Caitlin was privately suffering from a guilty conscience. She had tried hard (up to now) to avoid accepting the costliest of the garments her aunt pressed upon her as gifts, but lately her resolve had begun to weaken. She had almost convinced herself that it was cruel to disappoint Aunt Harriet by refusing her presents. This was the reason she gave herself for donning the irresistibly luscious sea green silk, but she knew in her heart that she was really wearing it because it suddenly seemed of the greatest importance to look her best in public.

She did not care to examine this newborn anxiety she felt regarding her appearance. Surely it could have nothing to do with her feelings for Richard Kilverton. After all (as she drearily reminded herself for the thousandth time), the man was engaged to Lady Elizabeth Delacourt. Even if Caitlin had the power to attract him, it would be shockingly improper—even wicked!—to do so.

Nevertheless, as she stepped into the ballroom she was conscious of a flutter of nervous anticipation. She was wearing the loveliest gown she had ever owned, in a shade handpicked to complement her coloring, and the silk clung to her figure in a daring and unfamiliar way. The tiny puffed sleeves left most of her shoulders and arms bare, and although she had pulled her kid gloves high over her elbows she still felt rather exposed. She would never have dared to wear anything quite so alluring a few weeks ago, but Almack’s patronesses had graciously approved of the Campbell girls by now. Since they were permitted to waltz, Lady Lynwood deemed it permissible for her elder niece to indulge in a little high fashion.

It had been ten days since the curricle accident, so Caitlin had had ten full days to heal her hurts and master her emotions. The bruising had faded in good time, but she feared that the tone of her mind was far from recovered. Even as she scolded herself for doing so, she paused on the step and glanced around the room, her eyes involuntarily seeking a certain gentleman—and just as she was trying to convince herself it was an excellent thing that he was not present, she saw him.

Richard Kilverton was standing with his mother and sister, not fifty feet from her, and as their eyes met for the first time in many days she felt her heart ignore all her mind’s warnings and give a joyful leap. A tremulous little smile wavered on her lips and, completely unconscious of her surroundings, she raised a gloved hand in greeting.

Kilverton caught his breath. Miss Campbell, the candlelight gleaming on her fiery hair, the pale silk clinging to her graceful form, looked magnificent. As if compelled, he instantly left his party and crossed the floor toward Caitlin.

As she watched his tall person plow heedlessly through the sea of fashionably dressed people, his eyes never leaving hers, Caitlin realized with a terrified rush of wonder that he seemed to feel as drawn to her as she felt toward him. He reached her side and suddenly her hand was trembling in his clasp as they stared wordlessly into each other’s faces.

It was Kilverton who eventually collected his wits and spoke. “Miss Campbell,” he began hoarsely, but seemed to lose his train of thought. He tried again. “Miss Campbell—”

An unwelcome tap on his sleeve forced him to drop her hand and turn. One of the persons from the party he had just abandoned, a short-sighted old gentleman whose lapels were coated with a fine dusting of snuff, had followed him.

“I say, Kilverton,” this gentleman wheezed. “Can’t go dashing off just now, y’know! Going to get a small party together. Cards in the back room, m’boy, and hang the dancing!”

Kilverton turned courteously. “But dancing, Duke, is the very reason one comes to Almack’s. Miss Campbell, are you acquainted with His Grace, the Duke of Arnsford?”

Caitlin choked back her surprise and bowed, murmuring something polite. The duke peered myopically at her.

“Redheaded!” he barked. “What’d you say your name was? Caldwell?”

“Campbell, Your Grace.”

“Ha! Knew a Caldwell once,” announced His Grace, thus explaining his brief interest in her. “Shocking little Cit, though. Shouldn’t think a daughter of his would be found at Almack’s.” He immediately transferred his attention back to Lord Kilverton, jabbing him with a pudgy forefinger “D’you mean to tell me you dragged me here to
dance
?”

A muscle quivered at the corner of Kilverton’s mouth. “Not with me, sir.”

The duke goggled at him for a moment. “What’s that? What’s that? Oh. Not with me, eh? Ha, ha! Yes, I dessay! Well, you’re an impudent dog. The ladies are always glad to dance. But since Elizabeth ain’t here, y’know,
you’re
under no obligation to gallop about like some demmed caper-merchant. We can put a snug little table together, boy.”

Kilverton’s good humor remained unshaken. “I am sure, sir, that many gentlemen present share your preference for gaming. You will find enough like-minded souls without my adding to the number.”

The duke shrugged pettishly. “Oh, well—! I’m off, then.” And he sauntered away without another word or any acknowledgment of Caitlin whatsoever. She stated after him in astonishment.

“What an impossible person!” she exclaimed, diverted “Is he really Lady Elizabeth’s father?”

“It does seem improbable,” agreed Kilverton, with the ghost of a laugh. “Perhaps the duchess played him false.”

As Caitlin gasped, he hurried contritely into speech. “No, Miss Campbell, pray do not upbraid me! I should never have spoken so in your presence. There! I have begged your pardon, and we may be friends again.” But he turned to find her biting her lip resolutely to keep from laughing, and his face relaxed into a grin.

“What an unusual girl you are,” he commented.

Caitlin stiffened wanly. “Unusual? How?”

“Arnsford is famous for his incivility, but I never heard anything to equal the shocking bit of rudeness I just witnessed. And you come off from the encounter quite unruffled! Neither the duke’s bad manners, nor my own, can rob you of your poise. My hat is off to you, Miss Campbell.” He bowed. She regarded his light brown locks, brushed carefully into a fashionable Brutus, and raised an eyebrow. “Well, your hat is certainly off—but what a goose I should be, to think I had anything to do with it!”

His eyes gleamed, and his mouth twisted quizzically. “You underrate your importance, Miss Campbell,” he said softly.

She stared at him, trying to puzzle out his meaning. Hazel, she thought inconsequentially. His eyes are hazel. Suddenly she could not recall what they had been talking about, and cast confusedly about in her mind for something to say. There had been something important stated a few minutes ago; what was it? Oh, yes! Her mind seized gratefully on the thought.

“Did I understand His Grace to say that Lady Elizabeth is not present tonight?” inquired Caitlin politely, not stopping to think that Kilverton might misconstrue her interest. At the arrested expression on his face she blushed furiously, and hastened to explain her meaning. “I hope she is not ill!”

Kilverton’s expression became inscrutable. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied. “I believe she is attempting to teach me a lesson.”

Caitlin looked up at him in surprise. His air of candor was unsettling. It struck her that he was treating her with far less formality than their acquaintance warranted. Before she could decide whether she was glad or sorry, he spoke again.

“You appear surprised, Miss Campbell. Do you wonder what I mean? You must understand that I have not seen Elizabeth since our excursion to Richmond Park. I have been inattentive, Miss Campbell. I have neglected my fiancée. Therefore, Elizabeth refuses to accompany me to Almack’s tonight—thus paying me back in my own coin. I believe this behavior is supposed to pique my interest. I am expected to arrive on her doorstep tomorrow morning, repentant and eager to make amends.” He smiled faintly. “Alas, poor Elizabeth! Her stratagem might have been effective, had my neglect of her been due to thoughtlessness. It was not, however. On the contrary, it was deliberate.”

Deliberate! A thrill compounded of hope and fear rushed through Caitlin. Deliberate neglect of Lady Elizabeth! She clutched her fan tightly and, with a great effort, retained her composure, frantically beating back the conjectures seething in her brain. She must not hope, she reminded herself fiercely. She must not hope.

It was difficult to force her voice past the constriction in her throat. “Lord Kilverton, you should not be telling me this. I am not a fit recipient for these confidences.”

“Are you not?” He gazed at her with such intensity, she dropped her eyes in confusion. What did he mean? She dared not guess. Before she could speak again, an ivory fan rapped her forearm, recalling her to her surroundings. She turned to find Serena accosting them.

“Richard, you must let me speak to Caitlin!” cried Serena, grasping her friend’s gloved elbow and beginning to push her insistently toward the wall.

Lord Kilverton stopped this maneuver by seizing his sister’s sash. “Oh, no, you don’t!” he said firmly. “Miss Campbell has just met Arnsford, so she has endured enough rudeness for one evening. What do you mean by bursting in and ordering us about?”

Serena opened her eyes at him. “Well! If one can’t discard propriety with one’s only brother and one’s dearest friend—”

“One can’t!” he assured her. He looked very hard at Serena’s saintly expression. “You’re hatching some scheme, Serena. Out with it.”

Serena tossed her head. “I mean to come out with it, Richard, but not to you. I must speak to Caitlin—alone!”

Richard groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. “I knew it! She’s planning something disastrous. Miss Campbell, I rely on you to dissuade her.”

Serena was indignant. “Don’t be a beast, Richard,” she began—but stopped, regarding her brother thoughtfully. “You know,” she said slowly, “it might be a good idea to include you after all.”

He flung up a hand in mock horror. “I spoke too soon! Upon consideration, Serena, I believe I would rather know nothing about it.”

“But you don’t know what it is!”

“No, and I don’t want to. Miss Campbell, would you care to be rescued from the hair-raising secrets I am sure my sister is about to pour into your ear? Pray allow me to lead you into the set that is forming.”

Caitlin could not help laughing. “What a family you are! Come, Serena, are you really planning something dangerous?”

“Not in the least!” Serena assured her earnestly. “It’s a splendid scheme, I promise you. All I mean to do—and it won’t do a pennyworth of harm to anyone—is flirt
desperately
with Ned Montague. And both of you could help me, if you only would!”

Caitlin stared at her friend in bewilderment. “Why on earth do you wish to flirt with Mr. Montague? And how am I to help you do so?”

Serena turned a little pink, but lifted her chin defiantly. “It has been brought to my attention that people—
odious
people—have somehow received a—a mistaken impression. About me. And I wish to correct it. That is all.”

Lord Kilverton grinned sympathetically. “Talgarth! Yes, you needn’t look daggers at me, Serena—I am one of the odious people who received a ‘mistaken impression.’ ” His expression hardened a little. “And I believe I can guess who brought the rumors to your attention.”

Serena nodded unhappily. “She meant it for the best. And of course I am grateful to Elizabeth, because now I shall be able to do something about it. But somehow—I don’t know why it should be so, but being told something beastly about oneself by someone who is trying to be kind only makes one feel worse.”

Caitlin’s arm stole comfortingly round her friend’s waist. “Never mind. Tonight we shall avenge you, Serena, and right your reputation in the eyes of the world! One instantly perceives that if you are seen to flirt with Mr. Montague, you will no longer be suspected of having lost your heart to the dashing Captain Talgarth.”

Serena nodded bravely. “Precisely. And Ned is so agreeable to flirt with. He takes one up instantly, and is so amusing! I daresay it will be quite a pleasant diversion.”

Richard frowned. “I don’t quite see what Miss Campbell’s part is in this game of yours, Serena. Or, for that matter, mine.”