Читать книгу Sapphire - Rosemary Rogers, Rosemary Rogers - Страница 13

“Pardon me, Lord Wessex.” The intruder cleared his throat. He stared at Sapphire, who was trying to extricate herself from Thixton’s arms. “I hadn’t realized you were—” he cleared his throat again, obviously amused “—occupied.” His hand on the doorknob, he backed out the door, smiling lasciviously at Sapphire.

He thought she was some sort of wanton, as well! “Wait,” Sapphire cried, flustered, trying to smooth the bodice of her gown. She still couldn’t catch her breath. “This isn’t how it appears, sir. I only—”

“Lord Wessex.” The intruder, still smiling, bowed to Thixton and paid no attention to Sapphire as he pulled the door closed behind him.

“How could you do such a thing?” Sapphire demanded as she took a step back from Thixton, still trying to straighten her gown. Then, realizing a thick lock of her copper hair had fallen from its fashionable upsweep, she tried furiously to return it to its place, but when she pulled out a pin to fasten the stray lock, more hair came tumbling down.

Thixton just stood there staring at her, seeming a little perplexed. “You really aren’t a harlot, are you.”

“Certainly not.” She pushed back a lock of loose hair and then gestured angrily in the direction of the door. “Little good the truth will do me now! That man…that man will go out there and tell everyone I was here alone with you.”

“And that you were kissing me?” he asked, taking a step toward her, smiling again.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her gloved hand. “I was not kissing you, sir,” she spat.

He took another step toward her and she sidestepped him by going around the other side of the billiards table.

“I…I must talk to you about my father. About Edward Thixton,” she said, attempting to gather her thoughts and remind herself of the reason she’d come here tonight in the first place. Only now she could think of nothing but him. Of nothing but the feel of his mouth on hers. The taste of him…

“But…but,” she stammered indignantly. “A more public place might be more appropriate as you are obviously not to be trusted as a gentleman.”

He surprised her yet again by not leaping to the defense of his honor as any decent gentleman would have. Rather, he tilted his dark head back and laughed.

“How dare you laugh at me! I am not through with you, Mr. Thixton,” she threw at him as she turned and rushed for the door.

“I hope not,” he called after her, still laughing.

Sapphire stormed out of the billiards room, slamming the door behind her. As she pushed her hair from her eyes and hurried up the hallway toward the music, she looked up to see guests lining both sides of the wall, staring at her.

Sapphire strode past them, down the hall and directly into the entrance hall. Without even looking for Aunt Lucia or Angelique, she continued out the front door.

“There you are.”

Lucia couldn’t resist a smile as she looked up to see Jessup Stowe hurrying toward her. He was quite handsome for a middle-aged man, bald pate and all, and they had shared a turn on the dance floor as well as a very engaging conversation earlier in the evening.

“Please tell me you weren’t going to run off without saying good-night, my dear Cinderella. I don’t believe I could have slept tonight without bidding you a fond farewell.”

She offered her hand and watched as he bowed formally and brushed his lips across the back of it. She giggled. “Mr. Stowe, you’re certainly smooth with les dames.”

“Only with ladies as beautiful and charming as you, my Cinderella.”

She smiled, genuinely flattered. “Now I know you’re being insincere. There are plenty of women in this house tonight more appealing to the eye and certainly younger than I am.”

“But it is you, Mademoiselle Toulouse, who has caught my fancy. I don’t often meet women as interesting as you.”

“I must go, Mr. Stowe.” With everyone at the ball gossiping about Sapphire and Lord Wessex, she needed to be certain Sapphire was all right.

“I wish you wouldn’t. One more dance? A walk in the garden, perhaps? “Stowe’s broad brow furrowed. “Or if you’re tired, we could—”

“Tired?” Lucia scoffed as she thrust one slippered foot from beneath her new gown. “I could dance all night on these feet. I could dance most of these young women in their silly heeled shoes right off the dance floor.”

“I bet you could, couldn’t you, Mademoiselle Toulouse?” He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you certain you are unmarried, Mr. Stowe?”

“I am afraid I am. A widow, these past three years.”

“Did you love your wife?”

“I did. A great deal and I miss her.”

“Good answer. Now, I must be on my way, but because you have passed the test, you may come for me Sunday afternoon and take me for a ride in Hyde Park.” She walked toward the door and the footman opened it.

“To think I didn’t even know I was taking an examination and I’ve apparently not only passed it, but won the prize,” the barrister called after her, his face red with glee.

“Good night, Mr. Stowe.” Lucia walked out the door, feeling lighter on her feet than she had in years.

“Sapphire. Sapphire? Puss, I’m coming in.”

The door opened and Lucia entered, but Sapphire didn’t sit up. She just lay there staring at the ceiling. She’d managed to get out of her shoes and gown, petticoats and stays without any assistance, but she was still wearing her drawers and new chemise.

“Are you asleep?”

“How could I be?” Sapphire asked miserably. “It’s a scandal. I’m sure you heard. I’m sure all of London has heard by now.”

“Ah, they have nothing better to do with their lives than gossip.”

Sapphire groaned in frustration. “And now everyone in London will speak poorly of me and call me terrible names. My reputation is ruined. I came to London for my mother’s sake and look how I’ve shamed her, how I’ve shamed my father.”

Lucia sat on the edge of the bed. “Poppycock,” she said softly. “I have to ask, though, puss—were you a…participant, or did Lord Wessex take unfair advantage of you?”

Sapphire felt heat rise in her face. “It was only a kiss. He didn’t…didn’t—”

“I know this is delicate, but I must know, puss. I of all people would never judge you. Participant or victim?”

“He didn’t hurt me, Aunt Lucia.”

Lucia was quiet for a moment while she smoothed Sapphire’s hand in hers. “Did you speak to him of your father?”

“I tried, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He…he—”

Aunt Lucia patted Sapphire’s hand and released it. “The new Lord Wessex is quite handsome. Unmarried.”

“He was abominable again.”

“Was he, now?” Lucia asked. “The party was rife with tittle-tattle, everyone was speaking of how handsome he is. They say his interest may lie with the dowager’s eldest daughter. Were he to marry her, the money would stay in the family.”

“Well, her interest might lie in his direction, but I can warrant you he’d not be interested in a shrew like her!”

“Really?” Aunt Lucia rose from the bed. “Well, dear, it’s late. I just wanted to be sure you were all right and to say good-night.” She glanced at the empty side of the bed. “I suppose you’ve seen no sign of our Angel.”

“No.”

Lucia sighed. “Certainly not surprising. She had several suitors tonight.” She walked toward the door. “I’m going to turn in, if you’re certain you’re all right.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’ll talk more tomorrow when you’re rested, puss. Good night.”

“Good night,” Sapphire called, knowing full well it would not be a good night because memories of Blake Thixton’s kiss would keep her awake until the early hours.

“Good morning, Lucia.” Lady Carlisle sat at the head of the dining table set for breakfast, dressed for an outing in a striped gray and white taffeta morning gown, her hair pulled tightly in a matronly chignon.

Lucia noted that Lady Carlisle didn’t look at her when she spoke. “Good morning, Edith,” she replied cheerfully, moving to the buffet table that had been set up along the wall of the dining room so that one could dine at one’s leisure. “Did you sleep well?” She accepted a plate from a maid standing as inconspicuously as possible beside the serving table, gaze fixed on the polished floor.

“I did not.”

Lucia took her time placing several lamb sausages on her plate, knowing exactly the direction this conversation was headed.

Lady Carlisle cleared her throat.

Lucia lifted the lid of a pottery serving bowl but rejected the dish of sardines. “I’m sorry to hear that you didn’t sleep well, Edith. Were you feeling poorly?” She took several corners of toast and heaped blackberry jam on the side of her plate.

“You could say that.” Lady Carlisle set her fork down firmly on the table. “Lucia…Mademoiselle Toulouse,” she said, taking on a more formal tone. “I must speak frankly with you.”

“So early in the morning?”

“Pardon me?”

Lucia turned from the buffet, a smile placed strategically on her lips. “I said, ‘a moment, darling.’” She took a seat at the dining table.

“Coffee, mum?” the servant asked Lucia, eyes downcast.

“Thank you.” Lucia smiled sweetly and then picked up her napkin and tucked it into the neckline of her brightly colored caftan. “Now, what were you saying, dear?” She lifted her gaze, batting her lashes.

“You heard what they were saying last night? The rumor?”

“Which one? I heard that Lady Thorngrove had lost three thousand pounds sterling at whist, that Baron Birdsley’s wife had run off with the Italian he’d hired to paint her portrait, and that eighty-year-old Lord Einestower’s son and heir had been born with hair as red as his Scots gardener’s when both Einestower and his nineteen-year-old bride had hair as black as any chimney sweep.”

“You know very well which one,” Lady Carlisle said haughtily. “Your goddaughter, Miss Fabergine, was seen in a compromising situation with Lord Wessex.”

Lucia shrugged, spreading jam on one of her toast points. “She kissed Lord Wessex. Rather, he kissed her. I’ll guess you did as much when you were nineteen, Edith. I wouldn’t put it past you to have done so since.”

“How dare you!”

Lucia took a bite of her toast. “It was a kiss, nothing more.”

“She was seen, alone, in the billiards room with a man.”

“For heaven’s sake, Edith, if you want to evoke these preposterous unwritten rules of London society, one could say Lord Wessex is a distant cousin.”

Lady Carlisle patted the corners of her lips with her napkin. “We have absolutely no proof of that. I never heard a word last night at the party about your goddaughter having any connection whatsoever to the Wessex family.”

Lucia tossed her toast on her plate. “Edith Carlisle, are you calling me a liar?”

“I am Lady Carlisle to you and I would not presume to say who speaks the truth and who does not. I’m simply stating that there is no proof that Sapphire Fabergine is related to the Thixton family in any way, and now that she has been caught in an unfortunate situation that could reflect badly on Lord Carlisle and me…”

Lucia could feel her face beginning to burn with anger. “Because we’re staying here?”

“I have no issue with you or Miss Angelique. She’s quite sweet, but…”

“But what, Edith?” Lucia demanded. “What are you trying to say? That Sapphire is no longer welcome in your household?”

“I asked Lord Carlisle to handle this unfortunate situation, but he was unable to—” she gulped water from a crystal glass “—remain here this morning to discuss the matter with you.”

“So you are putting us out, then?” Lucia exclaimed. “Simply come out and say it why don’t you.”

“As I said, I have no issue with you or—”

“So you would put out a girl not yet twenty years old?” Lucia leaned forward, pressing her hands on the polished table. “And where would you have Sapphire go? What would you have her do?”

Lady Carlisle leaned back in her chair as if unsure what her houseguest might do. “That really isn’t my concern. I suppose if she needs finances, she could set herself up as a woman in need of a protector. Obviously she’s that kind of young woman, as I suspected when we first met in Martinique.”

Lucia shoved her chair under the table. Armand hadn’t sent them with enough money to live on their own; such a need hadn’t been anticipated. But she didn’t care about the money. She’d prostituted herself once and she could do it again if she had to. She’d do that before she would allow Sapphire to be treated this way. “How dare you! We shall leave by noon.”

“You understand, she left us with no other recourse,” Lady Carlisle said.

“What I understand is that you, Edith, are not fit to wash Sapphire Thixton’s underclothing.” She whipped around to walk out, and then thinking better of her exit on an empty stomach, turned back, grabbed a toast point covered with jam and walked out of the dining room.