Читать книгу Sapphire - Rosemary Rogers, Rosemary Rogers - Страница 12

“There, there,” Lucia said, sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, smoothing back Sapphire’s hair. “Would you like me to get you a cup of tea, perhaps even a little sherry?”

“No, I’m fine, really.” Sapphire dabbed at her tear-swollen eyes with a sodden handkerchief. “I’m sorry, Auntie. I’ve behaved badly.” She sniffed. “You shouldn’t sit here with me any longer. You should go to the theater with Lady Carlisle as you’d planned.”

“Nonsense. What reason does an old woman like me have to go to the theater? It’s nothing but a place to see and be seen.” She pushed a dry handkerchief into Sapphire’s hand. “And what’s even more nonsensical is you thinking there’s anything wrong with having a good cry. You’ve just been told that your father passed away. I’d think something ailed you if you didn’t cry. I’m only sorry that Lord Carlisle didn’t hear at his men’s club until this afternoon after I’d left the house.”

Sapphire dabbed at her eyes again and stared up at the painted white ceiling above the bed. It was almost dark outside and Angelique had pulled the pale blue damask draperies across the windows and lit two oil lamps, which now cast shadows on the ceiling.

“Remember what it was like when your mother died?” Angelique sat on the other side of the bed. “We cried for days.”

“I know, but that was Mama. I…don’t know why I’m so upset when I didn’t even know my father. I’d never even seen his face and it’s not as if I was looking forward to it. I was so angry at him for what he did to my mother that mostly I think I just wanted to tell him how much I despised him.”

“Non, ma petite! How many times do I have to remind you that your mother was very clear that she didn’t think Edward ever knew what happened to her.”

“I don’t care. He should have known. If only that…that man in my father’s house had not been so hateful to me,” she said, her anger rising. “He was simply abominable.”

“Abominable or not, it seems he is the heir to your father’s estate. He is Blake Thixton, an American and a distant cousin of your father’s, Lord Carlisle has learned.” Lucia, dressed in elegant evening clothes, rose from the bed to walk to the table where she’d placed the bottle of sherry.

“An American?” Sapphire spat. “Why didn’t Lord Carlisle know sooner?”

“Now, now, puss.” Lucia poured herself a healthy dose of the sherry meant for her charge. “You cannot blame the messenger. We only arrived yesterday. How was Lord Carlisle to know? Edward passed away six months ago of natural causes, but Lord and Lady Carlisle have been out of the country seven months, escorting the baron and baroness on their honeymoon tour of Europe. And, truth be told, you would have heard of your father’s passing in a far gentler manner had you not stubbornly gone against my wishes and set out on your own to meet him.”

Sapphire sat up on the bed and pushed her long hair out of her face. “Why do you always say I’m stubborn with that tone in your voice? After all, had Mama not been stubborn, she might have met her demise those first lonely days in New Orleans—alone, with child and nowhere to live.”

“Still, you don’t want to go back to Martinique, do you?” Angelique asked.

Sapphire glanced at her.

“I…I don’t mean to sound selfish,” Angelique went on quickly. “And I’ll fully admit I prefer to stay because I like the excitement of London, but really, Sapphire, what has changed? Yes, the Earl of Wessex has passed on, but you’re still his daughter.”

“You’re right, Angel. That fact hasn’t changed, and that detestable man cannot alter that.”

“No, he cannot.” Lucia lifted her cordial of sherry in toast and took a sip.

“Of course, I have no legal right to my father’s entailed property. I’m female. English law doesn’t allow me to inherit from my father unless I am specifically named in his will. Since he was unaware of my existence, it isn’t possible that I have been.”

“Why did you come, ma chère? Did you come to England for land or money?”

“I came because Mama—”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Lucia interrupted as she approached the bed, the cut-crystal glass still in her hand. “I loved your mother as dearly as anyone, but you are Sophie’s daughter and I know very well you did not come just to satisfy her dream.”

Sapphire rested her hand on her forehead for a moment, taking time to think before she responded. Yesterday she had felt like a young woman, barely more than a child, and yet today…this evening, she felt years older. “I came because it was my mother’s wish,” she said evenly, “but I also came to satisfy my own desire to be acknowledged.”

“And…”

She met Lucia’s gaze. “I wanted him to acknowledge that my mother was indeed his legal wife, not for him to accept me as his daughter.” She hesitated. “So I suppose, in a way, I did come for her, but not for the reasons she thought I would.”

Lucia tipped her glass and smiled over the rim. “Now, there is the Sapphire I know.”

“He’s dead, I know, but I am still Lord Edward Wessex’s daughter and Sophie Barkley was still his wife,” Sapphire said, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. “And heir or not, that man must recognize me as such. He must make an announcement to London society and formally acknowledge me. Even upon my father’s death and the passing of his title, I do possess the right to retain his name.” Sapphire set her jaw with the stubbornness her aunt accused her of possessing. “Aunt Lucia, did Lord Carlisle not tell you that my father left a widow who is hosting a reception Saturday evening for her husband’s American heir?”

“That he did!”

“How improper would it be for us to attend this reception?”

“I’m certain Lady Carlisle could acquire an invitation for us. It seems all of London society has received one since the dowager is apparently quite eager to show off the new heir. They say he is not only handsome, but quite wealthy.”

“Why on earth would you want to attend a reception in honor of the man who has insulted you?” Angelique asked in surprise.

Sapphire turned to her companion, a furtive smile on her lips. “How else can I demand my title due me, but to see the knave again in person?”

“Are you certain you want to do this?” Aunt Lucia asked Sapphire, placing her ringed hand on her goddaughter’s forearm as she emerged from the Carlisles’ carriage.

Sapphire stared up at the doorway she’d run from less than a week earlier and swallowed hard. For days she’d been rehearsing what she would say to Mr. Blake Thixton, but all those words escaped her and she was left with nothing but her determination.

The great front doors opened and the same footman Sapphire had encountered previously appeared.

“Say the word and we’ll go,” Lucia whispered in Sapphire’s ear. “Say the word and we’ll be on the next steamer to Martinique, to Hong Kong, to California in America. You name the place, my dove, and we shall leave all this poppycock behind and go on the adventure of a lifetime.”

Sapphire looked down at Lucia, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt that something was about to change, something that would alter her life forever. “I can never thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, but no, I have to do this. For Mama, for me.”

Lucia gave her an understanding pat on the arm and turned toward the steps. Lord and Lady Carlisle had already entered the residence and the butler was now staring down at Sapphire and Lucia with great interest.

“Are we going in?” Angelique murmured, so excited she could barely contain herself.

Sapphire grasped the skirting of her new shoulder-baring apple-green silk gown and started up the steps. “Of course we’re going in,” she said confidently. “I haven’t come this far to turn back now.”

“The Viscount Carlisle,” announced the footman stiffly. “Lady Carlisle.”

Sapphire handed the footman her newly printed calling card so that she could be announced.

“Miss Fabergine.”

Sapphire glided across the glittering hall and entered the receiving line behind Lord and Lady Carlisle, who were speaking with a painfully thin woman—the dowager Lady Wessex, her father’s wife, she surmised. Sapphire smiled. The dowager had never legally been his wife because he had, until her death, still been married to Sophie.

“Miss Fabergine.” The butler announced Angelique and then took Lucia’s card. “Mademoiselle Toulouse.”

Sapphire met Lucia’s gaze over her shoulder one last time, smiled and turned to be introduced formally to her father’s so-called widow.

“And this is Miss Fabergine,” Lady Carlisle said. “The young girl you and I spoke of, Lady Wessex. Her stepfather was such a dear, a handsome Frenchman. It would have been impossible for me to deny his request to escort his stepdaughter to London.”

Sapphire curtsied. “Lady Wessex, thank you so kindly for the invitation.”

The widow barely acknowledged her.

“And Lady Wessex’s daughters,” Lady Carlisle continued, moving down the receiving line. “The eldest, Miss Camille Stillmore.”

Sapphire curtsied and smiled at the daughter who appeared to be a year or two older than herself and looked a great deal like her mother. She was most certainly not an attractive woman, and her pale ivory gown overrun with ruffles did not improve her appearance. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Miss Stillmore glanced at Sapphire with the look she knew too well after being in London for two weeks. It was the look, Aunt Lucia had explained, that ugly English girls gave the pretty ones as they realized they were no match.

“Miss Portia and Miss Alma,” Lady Carlisle said, completing the introductions.

The two younger girls, who were more comely than their elder sister, bobbed curtsies, seemingly more interested to meet the new arrival. Portia appeared to be the same age as Sapphire, and Alma only a year or two younger.

“It’s very nice to make your acquaintance,” Sapphire said, returning their smiles.

“Is he here?” Lady Carlisle asked the youngest daughter, leaning closer so as not to be overheard by those passing in the hall.

“He, my lady?”

“Why, Lord Wessex, of course,” the older woman hissed under her breath. “I expected to meet him in the receiving line. That is why we were invited, was it not? To formally meet the new Earl of Wessex?”

Alma snatched a quick look at her sister, then returned her attention to Lady Carlisle. “He’s here, my lady, only…he says he prefers not to stand in the receiving line.”

Lady Carlisle raised her plucked and painted eyebrows so high that Sapphire thought they might reach her receding hairline. Then, spotting an acquaintance, Lady Carlisle fluttered her fan and walked into the next room, her husband in tow.

Sapphire waited for Angelique inside the doorway of a large parlor a little farther down the hall. Exquisitely decorated with stylish furniture and rich-hued draperies, the sound of clinking glasses and restrained laughter came from inside.

“So, my chicks, shall we stick together?” Lucia asked, putting one arm around Sapphire and the other around Angelique. “Or shall we scatter?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Angelique said, narrowing her gaze and pursing her plump lips seductively. “I believe I recognize that gentleman under the window.”

Sapphire looked at the man and lowered her voice as she spoke. “Angel, how can you know him? We’ve barely been here long enough to—”

“Find me if you need me,” Angelique said, moving off in her new lavender and white silk evening gown.

Lucia and Sapphire watched Angelique cross the room, and then Lucia turned to her goddaughter. “So what will it be, my dear? Shall we corner this scoundrel together?”

“Thank you, but no. I can do this on my own.”

“Very well, puss.” Lucia pecked the air close to Sapphire’s cheek with her rouged lips and walked away, lifting her hand to Lady Morrow who stood beyond them. “Lady Morrow,” she called in her French accent, “so good to see you again, ma chère.”

Sapphire’s pulse raced and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She leaned against the wall for a moment and watched the stylishly dressed guests come and go. There were at least two hundred guests socializing in the two parlors to the right of the front hall and the large drawing room on the left that seemed to have been cleared of furniture for dancing. She was overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds: the glittering jewels hanging from slender necks and earlobes, the stiff white cravats gentleman wore around their necks, the hushed voices, the lively strum of instruments as the musicians struck up a lovely dance.

Sapphire watched as couples moved opposite one another, advancing and retreating, locking arms and then separating to weave their way among the other dancers. She tapped her kidskin slipper beneath her gown, remembering how Armand and her mother had hosted parties at Orchid Manor. They had danced half the night in the tropical garden where Armand had built a platform for such occasions. How her mother had loved dances…. When Sapphire closed her eyes, she could almost hear Sophie’s laughter, see Armand draw an arm around her and whisper in her ear. She remembered dancing with Maurice, as well, and the feel of his arms around her…

“You would care to dance? Excellent.”

Sapphire’s eyes flew open as a man closed his hand over hers and pulled her into the drawing room to join the other dancers. Before she could open her mouth to speak, Blake Thixton released her, pushing her onto the dance floor in the direction of the other ladies as they and their partners separated. Sapphire realized she knew the steps from lessons in Martinique; it seemed as if her mother had spent her whole life preparing her for this introduction to London society. The dance was a variation of the Roger de Coverley and she took her place across from Thixton, staring at him.

She forced a smile, advanced, retired and curtsied to his bow. The moment they joined hands to begin the figure, he spoke harshly beneath his breath. “I thought I warned you not to come here again.”

To the many men and women who lined the walls of the drawing room to observe, or to the other dancers, it must have appeared that Sapphire and Thixton were conversing pleasantly as they danced. She would certainly not be the first one to disclose otherwise.

“I must speak with you,” she said, loathing the fact that he was holding her so tightly when he rested his hand on her waist. Loathing the fact that her eyes kept straying to his mouth, that strange waves of heat washed over her each time he spoke.

“Let me guess—you must see me so that you can tell me more about how you are Wessex’s daughter and what the estate owes you.”

“Yes.” The dancers parted and he released her. “I mean no,” she said in his ear, and then sailed away.

It was a full minute before they were joined again, and as they danced he watched Sapphire with impenetrable brown eyes. It was something near to hatred she felt for those eyes at this moment. “I don’t want money,” she said under her breath. “I want to be acknowledged. I want my mother, who was Lord Wessex’s legal wife, to be acknowledged.”

He spun her around, proving to be a superb dancer. “Surely you jest.”

She was forced to move away from him to remain in step with the music, but the moment he took her hand again, she met his gaze with determination. “I assure you, sir, I do not jest.”

The dance came to end and all the dancers bowed, curtsied and clapped.

“I want you to go now,” Thixton said, his disdain for her obvious in his voice as he looped her arm through his and escorted her off the dance floor. “Go now or you will find that it is I who does not jest.” In the hall, he released her. “As I told you before, there are laws against fortune hunters like you, and the constable will be more than happy to take you to prison where you belong.”

“Fortune hunter! Sir, I don’t know who you think you are, but I—”

Thixton turned and strode down the hall and entered a room, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Sapphire stood there seething, her gloved hands pressed to her sides as she tried to catch her breath. Another dance had begun and the sound of the orchestra seemed to swirl around her in the twinkling candlelight.

Her gaze shifted to the door where Thixton had gone. There were no guests in the hall. It was completely inappropriate for an unmarried woman to follow a man into a room without a proper chaperone, but without considering the consequences, she hurried down the hall, drew back her hand and rapped hard on the door.

When she got no response, she knocked even harder. “Mr. Thixton, I’m not through with you!”

The door jerked open and Thixton looked down on her. “Did you not hear what I said?” He knew she was trouble, had known it a week ago when she’d shown up on his doorstep trying to see what she could squeeze from the stone of his inheritance. And she was even more beautiful tonight—her rich auburn hair glossier, her eyes even more beguiling and her mouth—it took his breath away. The curve of her sensuous lips made him hard at once, made him want to take her there in the doorway the same way he had taken the sad Mrs. Williams that night on the balcony. But something told him she would not be such an easy conquest and certainly not as easy to forget.

“Sir, it is you who are apparently hard of hearing!”

“Get in here.”

He pulled her into the room and closed the door behind them.

They were in a dark-paneled, masculine-style room dominated by a large billiards table. A billiards room that smelled of tobacco, leather and him.

Taking a step back, Sapphire rested her hand on the edge of the walnut table. “You have to listen to me.”

“I have to do no such thing.”

He strode toward her and she realized then that he had removed his coat. The white shirt beneath his black waistcoat was impeccably pressed, as was the cravat at his neck. He wore his clothing well.

She took another step back, confused by the ridiculous thoughts that were popping into her head. “Yes, you do have to listen to me. I was—am Lord Edward Thixton’s legitimate daughter and—”

“Wait a minute.” He pointed his finger at her, still walking straight toward her. “Were you sent here by that cousin? What is his name?” He snapped his fingers, the side of his mouth turning up in a half smile. “Charles,” he said. “Charles something. He said he knew the best ladies of the evening.”

His hand snaked out, and before she could get out of his way, he grabbed her wrist again. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Why this game, hmm?” He pulled her close to him, gazing down at her with an incredibly smug smile. “You do clean up nice, I’ll give you that. A prettier whore I don’t believe I’ve ever seen.”

“Let go of me, sir,” she said as she struggled to remove herself from his grasp. But he overwhelmed her, not just with his physical force, but with his nearness—the smell of him, the heat of his body in the places where it touched her.

Instead of getting away from him, she somehow managed to entangle herself further in his arms. “Let go of me,” she insisted, pushing against his chest as her heart pounded.

“One kiss,” he said. Holding her close, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, her skin, he could smell the depth of the unrest she could unleash on him. He could feel it and he knew he would be able to taste it in her mouth. “Just a sample of your wares first before I put out any hard-earned money.”

“Sir!” she spat, so angry now that she could barely focus on the face hovering over her as she bent backward in order to keep his body from touching hers any more than it already was. “I assure you I am no—”

His mouth came down hard over hers, muffling her last words. She’d been kissed before, by Maurice, and by a few other young men on Martinique, but never like this. His mouth was merciless, searing her lips like a flame, forcing them apart. He held her with one arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, crushing her. When she tried to move her head to escape, she felt his hand slide upward until his fingers brushed the nape of her neck, holding her trapped in his arms.

Sapphire’s legs went weak. She couldn’t think. Her mind was screaming but she could make no sound. To her horror, Blake thrust his tongue into her mouth, and as she grasped a handful of his waistcoat to loosen his hold, she somehow rose upward, deepening his kiss even further, forcing little whimpers from her throat.

She feared her pounding heart might burst from her chest. He was smothering her, filling her with heat.

Suddenly, there was a sound.

Thixton jerked back, glancing over his shoulder, but did not release her.