Chapter 17 #2
Carenza walked over and was soon settled in the seat next to him. Olivia, who was opposite her, winked before she turned to talk to Lady Brenton. Had her friend told Lady Brenton that Carenza was Julian’s new lover? Did that explain her presence?
Carenza looked longingly toward the door.
So much for a few quiet days with Julian.
The visit had become a nightmarish landscape filled with potential dangers to navigate.
Should she have allowed Olivia to explain why she’d brought Lady Brenton, beyond the obvious?
It did seem unlike her friend to be so petty.
Carenza noticed the footmen were being very careful about the distribution of the soup.
In such a small establishment, the arrival of unexpected guests, especially at such short notice, must have put a huge strain on the kitchen.
She declined the soup, noting the footman’s relief, and turned her attention to Julian.
He sat at the head of the table, his head inclined toward his mother, who was speaking at some length.
He looked far calmer than she would in such circumstances, but that was his way, was it not?
To keep that cool distance between himself and the concerns of the world.
He’d never allow the presence of his mother or of Lady Brenton to openly annoy him and would navigate the week with the same steady calmness and outward goodwill.
Was she the only one who knew he had a temper at all? She moved slightly on her seat, aware of the throbbing between her legs and exactly who had got her in such a state. Despite all the potential problems, she still wanted to be in his bed.
He caught her eye, a question in his gaze, and she smiled before she hurriedly looked away. She didn’t have the face for keeping secrets. Anyone who saw them in close proximity would soon guess that she was enamored of him. Carenza took a deep breath.
She was in love with him, and that wasn’t part of the plan at all.
“Lady Carenza?”
She jumped and turned to face Aragon. “I do beg your pardon. I was woolgathering.”
“Happens to me all the time.” He smiled at her. “That’s why I need my mother to hold the reins.”
“I think you underestimate yourself, sir.”
“Funnily enough, that’s exactly what Julian said,” Aragon said. “He told me it was high time to take control of my own estates.”
“He does have a rather annoying tendency to be right about such things.” She returned his smile. “And I know he has your best interests at heart.”
“My mother told me not to trust him, but she was wrong to do so, because he’s a good man.” For once Aragon sounded serious. “I’ve come to appreciate his advice.”
“Good for you,” Carenza said. “I often disagree with him, but, again, he is usually right.”
“He’s very fond of you.”
“Yes, we’ve been friends for years,” Carenza agreed. “How could we not all be friends when our families grew up together?”
“I consider you my friend,” Aragon said.
Carenza smiled at him. “Likewise.”
“I know I’ve been following you around like a lost lamb recently, but on reflection, I don’t think we would suit.” He paused and studied her face. “Please don’t cry.”
“I will bravely hold back my tears.” Carenza pretended to sigh. “And shed them privately in the sanctuary of my bedchamber.”
“You don’t mind at all, do you?”
“I’d rather we were friends.”
“Then so be it.” He grinned at her. “I’ve always thought you more suited to Julian anyway. You both have a wicked sense of humor.”
Carenza picked up her wineglass and hoped Aragon hadn’t noticed she was blushing. He wasn’t known as a particularly observant man, so his remarks were probably innocent. In truth, if he had noticed her connection with Julian, she was in trouble.
There was a tinkling laugh from the other side of the table. Lady Brenton looked at Aragon and then at Carenza. “I doubt Julian would consider Lady Carenza as more than a friend either, my lord. He does have rather exacting tastes.”
“Good point, ma’am,” Aragon nodded enthusiastically. “Julian is renowned for the beauty of his mistresses.” He turned to Carenza. “Not that I’d include you among those ladies. You’re far more than just a pretty face; you’re an excellent rider.”
“Thank you,” Carenza murmured.
Lady Brenton looked rather put out.
“I’ve always thought Mr. Laurent would make an excellent lover,” Olivia said. “In fact, now that you’re done with him, Cressida, I might proposition him myself.”
“You’re certainly beautiful enough,” Aragon told Olivia.
Carenza tried not to glare at Olivia, who was being her usual provocative self.
“Do you care to ride?” Aragon asked. “How is your seat?”
“I fear I’m not as accomplished a rider as Carenza, my lord,” Olivia said. “I prefer to limit my physical activities to my bedchamber.”
Aragon’s eyebrows went up. “Do you, by God.” He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Olivia. He was just about to speak when his mother cleared her throat.
“Aragon, you know perfectly well it is rude to talk across the table.”
“Oh! Sorry, Mother.” He sat back. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Sheraton after dinner.”
Lady Landon’s expression said otherwise. Carenza guessed she would keep Aragon tethered to her side in the drawing room and not allow him to speak to anyone. Lady Brenton turned to Olivia. She spoke quietly, but Carenza could hear every word.
“Is Lord Landon wealthy, Olivia?”
“Not as wealthy as Mr. Laurent, but he does have the title,” Olivia said. “And two very nice houses, one in London and the other in Norfolk.”
“Indeed.”
“I didn’t realize that condolences were in order, Lady Brenton,” Carenza said. “Are you officially a widow?”
“I am not.”
“Oh, I see. You’re merely contemplating adultery again. I do apologize, how foolish of me.”
“It’s quite all right,” Lady Brenton replied. “You’ve never been known for your wit or intelligence, dear, so do not dwell on your shortcomings.”
Carenza set her jaw. “Better to be honest than to betray your friends and family. My conscience is clear.”
“Is it really?” Olivia locked gazes with her. “I’ve always thought that still waters run deep and that you’re not quite as angelic as you appear.”
“True, no one is ‘quite’ that feebleminded,” Lady Brenton muttered.
“I beg your pardon?” Carenza stared at Lady Brenton.
She had the audacity to smile. “I was speaking to Mrs. Sheraton, my lady. One isn’t supposed to talk across the table.”
“Hear, hear,” Aragon said.
Carenza resisted the urge to dump the contents of her wineglass over Lady Brenton’s head.
She glanced despairingly at the door. It was only the first evening of the holiday.
How on earth was she going to deal with Olivia at her worst and Lady Brenton without losing her temper?
She was tired of being patronized by both of them.
Allegra caught her eye and mouthed, “Are you all right?”
Carenza nodded and returned her attention to her food, all her pleasure at spending time with Julian destroyed by the unpleasantness of his houseguests. She slowly stopped chewing. But why should she let them ruin it for her? What if she ignored them and simply enjoyed Julian instead?
Eventually, Lady Isobel—apparently taking it upon herself to act as Julian’s hostess—rose to her feet. “The ladies will withdraw to the drawing room and leave the gentlemen to their port.”
Carenza stood and followed Olivia and Lady Brenton into the very pretty drawing room. She sat down next to Maude, who appeared to be struggling to smile.
“What’s wrong?” Carenza whispered to Maude.
Lady Isobel took her place behind the tea tray and started ordering everyone around.
“Gerald and I had an awful argument,” Maude said. “He’s considering returning to France.”
“If he truly is considering such a step, I’d tell him good riddance,” Carenza said.
Maude blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“If he is intent on making you miserable, you’ll be far happier if he isn’t here,” Carenza explained. “Why should you continue to put up with a man who doesn’t value you?”
Maude looked down at her clasped hands. “I thought you’d tell me it was my duty to put up with him.”
Carenza frowned. “I spent years trying to make Hector happy by diminishing myself to fit his petty requirements. It did me no good in the end. He still behaved appallingly, and even worse, he had no respect for me because I allowed him to get away with it.” She looked at Maude.
“If Gerald doesn’t understand how hard it has been for you while he’s been away, then you’re better off without him. ”
“Those are fighting words, Carenza,” said Olivia, who had come up behind her. “I never thought I’d hear you say such a thing.”
“But I was not speaking to you,” Carenza said. “You are intruding on a private conversation.”
Olivia sat down beside Maude and said, “Oh, for goodness’ sake, Carenza, will you please accept my apology and stop treating me like a pariah?”
“Why should I?” Carenza asked. “You’re behaving appallingly.”
Olivia sighed. “If you would just allow me to explain, I’ll tell you why I brought Lady Brenton with me.”
“Fine.” Carenza glared at Olivia. “Tell me.”
Olivia glanced around and then lowered her voice before speaking. “I believe Lady Brenton is heavily involved in this effort to blacken Julian’s reputation. She’s working with Percival Walcott and has been seen in Mr. Cox’s inn.”
“Have you told her about your part in all this?” Carenza asked.
“No.” Olivia had the nerve to look offended.
“I still don’t understand why you thought it a good idea to bring her here.”
“Neither do I,” said Maude, who had been kept well informed about events by Allegra. “It seems … cruel.”
“I brought her to talk to Julian,” Olivia continued. “I thought that if anyone could get her to confess her secrets, it would be him.”
“She’s hardly likely to betray Percival to the very man she wants to bring down,” Carenza argued.