Chapter 12 #4
Blanche was not flustered. Her friends knew she was a virgin.
They could not understand why she refused to marry and even if she remained unwed, why she hadn’t taken a lover.
She had given up trying to explain that men held no interest for her.
Her life was safe and secure at Harrington Hall, taking care of her father, and she did not need anything more.
No man had ever made her heart race. She wasn’t inclined toward women, not at all; she was merely dead in her body, as she was dead in her soul.
“I suggest you take a lover, dear, for a while, but be discreet. And choose more wisely this time.” Her second husband had been an impetuous, if handsome, young man who had been killed jumping his Thoroughbred over a dangerously high fence.
As Blanche turned toward Bess, who was deliriously in love with her Russian despite Lord Waverly and their two children, her butler appeared, carrying a silver tray. “My lady?”
Gracefully Blanche rose to her feet to take the proffered card.
She was delighted to see that the woman who had almost become her mother-in-law was calling.
Once, she had been betrothed to Tyrell de Warenne, but neither one of them had wanted to go forward with the union.
He had been enamored of his mistress, whom he had subsequently married.
Her father had not insisted upon another betrothal, finally realizing that his daughter wished to remain a spinster, much to Blanche’s relief.
She was warmly inclined toward the countess of Adare, and knew that Mary de Warenne liked her, as well.
“Who is it?” Bess asked, standing. “I am late. Nicholas is waiting for me at the Beverly Hotel.”
Blanche was about to tell her when she saw the countess approaching in the hall outside of the salon, a dark gentleman with her. Her heart skipped a beat, surprising her.
“Oh!” Bess cried, grinning. She jabbed Felicia and lowered her voice. “It is the countess Adare and her dashing, albeit brooding, and very unwed son, Sir Rex of Land’s End. There’s the perfect lover for you, Felicia—I have heard he has great stamina in bed, never mind his missing leg.”
Felicia flushed. “He never smiles.”
“The serious ones make the best lovers, darling. I must be off!” Bess kissed Blanche’s cheek, greeted the countess and Rex, and hurried out.
Blanche made sure she was smiling as she went forward to greet the countess, trying not to look at Rex de Warenne and refusing to heed Bess’s words.
She knew him, of course. They had exchanged a dozen words in the course of her brief engagement to his brother.
It had always been awkward and forced. In fact, he had made her vaguely uncomfortable, which was odd, as no one really had the ability to cause her any tension.
“Countess, what a delightful surprise.” She curtsied, deferring to the other woman’s superior rank.
Then she glanced at Rex, her smile feeling quite fixed.
As she greeted him she avoided his eyes.
“Sir Rex, I am so pleased you have called.” It was impossible to avoid him entirely, as he was such a big, solid man.
From the corner of her eyes, she glimpsed a muscular thigh.
“Do you recall my dear friend, Lady Capshaw? She joined me all those years ago at Adare, but she was Lady Greene then.”
Introductions were made all around, while Blanche signaled to her butler for refreshments. Organizing the call made her recover the composure she had briefly lost. The countess’s visit was not really a surprise, but she was caught off guard that her son had escorted her.
He was never in town. She doubted she had seen him in two years, if not more.
Did he spend all of his time at his Cornish estate, she wondered.
He had been awarded the estate and his title for his heroism in the war.
He had not changed. He remained too big, too dark, with the shadow of some terrible burden in his eyes.
But even she could admit her friends were right—he was very handsome, if one preferred the dark, brooding type.
“Sir Rex, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Felicia was saying coyly. “I certainly recall our introduction in Ireland.”
He nodded at her, unsmiling. “I take it you are well.” His dark gaze slid to Blanche and then away again.
Blanche realized Felicia was going to try to get into his bed. She reminded herself that she did not care and quickly turned to the countess. “How long have you been in town?” she asked, smiling.
“A mere two days,” the countess said. “Can we stroll on the terrace, dear?”
Blanche realized the countess had a matter she wished to discuss with her privately.
Felicia was now asking Rex how long he had been in town, and although answering, he seemed impatient and annoyed.
She caught him glancing at her friend’s overexposed and lush bosom, but then, all men seemed inclined toward her two very socially active friends.
Blanche didn’t really care to leave them together, but she looped her arm in Mary’s and they strolled outside.
“How considerate of Sir Rex to escort you today,” she heard herself say.
One of her eyes seemed to be permanently trained on the couple inside her salon.
Felicia was being amusing, because Rex was smiling, finally, albeit reluctantly.
“I was very surprised,” Mary admitted. “Of all my sons, he can be such a recluse. He is never in town, so I must make the most of it. As you surely know, he avoids society at all cost but he insists he is very occupied at Land’s End. How are you, Blanche? And how is Lord Harrington?”
“Papa is well. He is in Stockholm, taking care of some business affairs. I do miss him when he travels,” she said truthfully.
In fact, she had been terribly lonely until Bess and Felicia had called.
Then she amended her thought. She had callers every single day and she was too gracious to refuse anyone, but no amount of conversation could ease the sense of being so utterly alone.
With the passage of time, her sense of isolation was becoming worse.
Sometimes she would look across her salon at the merry crowd and feel as if she stood outside of herself, watching everyone and knowing no one, not even herself.
Even when Harrington returned, as happy as she would be to see him, it didn’t change that feeling of being an island unto herself.
But hadn’t she wanted her life to be that way? She had only to say the word and her father would arrange a marriage for her. Blanche shivered. She could think of nothing worse than having to wed a total stranger and spending a lifetime with him in pretense.
“I am glad he is well,” the countess said. “Have you heard the news? My son Cliff is in town, and he has a ward.”
Blanche started. “Cliff has a ward? How did this happen?” He was too handsome and too much of a rake to have a ward, although she would never say so.
“He knew her father, a gentleman planter in the islands, who has recently passed on. Amanda’s mother died at birth and he brought her here, hoping to reunite her with her mother’s family, but there is no one to reunite her with, it seems.”
“Oh, how terrible!” Blanche said, meaning it. “How can I help?”
Mary clasped her arm. “You are such a dear. We were hoping you might receive us. It will be Amanda’s first call.”
Blanche did not understand.
“We are hoping to bring her out at the Carrington ball, but her father was more ruffian than gentleman, and she was raised in a very unorthodox manner. She is a sweet, beautiful young lady, but her social education has been somewhat lacking.”
Instantly Blanche comprehended. “Mary, I should love for you to bring Amanda to my home and I will make certain all goes well, no matter what. I will help launch her, too, if you would like my help.”
“Thank you,” Mary said fervently. “This is very important to Cliff, and to Miss Carre, of course. We so appreciate your help.”
“It is my pleasure,” Blanche said. She glanced into the salon again and she was surprised to see Rex standing stiffly by himself, watching them through the window. Felicia sat on the settee by herself, looking bored. Apparently Rex de Warenne was not interested in her friend as a paramour.
It wasn’t her affair, yet she was somehow relieved.