XIII #3
“Ah, but you are still an innocent, my dear, regardless of the fact that you think yourself such an old cat. The fault is mine. I should not have let it happen.”
“But it did happen,” she pointed out. “Between two good friends, and it is over now and done. We should be thinking ahead now to how you mean to deal with Rory, should we not?”
“Deal with Rory?” He seemed puzzled.
“Well, surely this proves that you must not marry her, Philip.”
He cast her a pain-ridden glance, but she said nothing further, and at last, staring at a point beyond her shoulder, he spoke.
“I have realized for some time now and for several reasons that my betrothal was an unfortunate mistake. However, that knowledge, though frustrating, makes little difference. I am contracted to her. Had I known after my brother died—But it is so senseless to look back, to wail over what might have been. Indeed, it is pointless. My honor is at stake now, so there is nothing to be done.”
“How Gothic!” Nell did nothing now to conceal the sudden anger she felt, but when he only regarded her with that expression of helpless pain, she realized it would be fruitless to debate the matter with him.
A gentleman of honor, such as she knew him to be, could never call off his betrothal.
It was a simple enough thing for the lady to do—ladies being considered a fickle lot—but it was never an acceptable act for a gentleman.
Privately Nell thought that a stupid custom, for certainly a gentleman could make a mistake (as, indeed, Huntley had done) just as easily as a lady might.
Pressing her lips together she let him help her back into the saddle and, during the ride back into Brighton, made little effort to respond to his occasional conversational gambits.
Her mind was too busy for desultory chitchat, and though he looked as if he could use some more comforting, she had no wish to offer him soothing words. Her emotions were too much in turmoil.
Where she had once thought marriage to Huntley would be the making of her niece, now she knew it would be total disaster for both of them.
And for others, as well. Herself, in particular.
The thought showed an alarming tendency to linger, but for the moment and despite her still-tingling senses, Nell made every effort to repress it.
It was not in her nature to dwell upon what might have been, but it was certainly in her nature to attack present difficulties head-on in order to clear the way for what might be.
Therefore, it made better sense to deal with the situation at hand than to attempt to make sense of Huntley’s cryptic references to the past. A little resolution was clearly required if matters were to be rearranged satisfactorily.
She thought at first that Huntley himself, if he truly wished to be free, might simply make a push to discuss the matter with Rory and convince her to agree to a mutual dissolution of the betrothal.
But upon thinking it over, she realized it would be useless to suggest such a course to him.
He would refuse, insisting that to make the suggestion would be every bit as insulting to Rory as it would be to jilt her without discussing the matter.
And in the normal course of events, of course, it would be.
But from what she had seen of her niece lately, the events were anything but normal.
She had a suspicion that, with very little encouragement, Rory would welcome an end to her betrothal, that she had already discovered a preference for men—perhaps even for one man—nearer her own age.
Clearly, then, Nell herself would have to discuss the matter with her.
Briefly, she considered the possibility of informing him of her intention, but she discarded the notion almost the moment it entered her head.
He would forbid that course as well, and then she would be at a standstill.
And Nell meant to do something. She could not simply let matters take their course, for if she did, Huntley would end up married to Rory, and they would all be miserable.
At that moment and seemingly of its own accord, her memory jumped back to the interlude in the elm grove.
His behavior had shaken her a good deal, but never had anyone made her feel as Philip had made her feel in those brief moments.
Certainly, she could not deny her own body’s responses.
Of course, she was, as he had pointed out, rather inexperienced in such matters.
She cast her now silent companion a speculative glance.
Perhaps he had only given way to the sort of passion men—if what one had heard was true—indulged in without really thinking it meant anything.
She had certainly never thought before today that he might carry a tenderness for her.
Oh, there had been a time all those many years ago when she had thought he cared for her, when she had even hoped—But it had come to nothing, and had probably been only friendship even then.
No doubt she had been too strong-minded for him.
But then other memories of the elm grove intruded, and stirred by a small, delicious tremor deep within herself, she was forced to consider the possibility that he might be rather strong-minded himself from time to time.
And looking at his glum countenance now, she could not believe he had no strong feelings for her.
Before the thought settled, however, she remembered how easily he could be ruled by his sister’s strong words, a couple of crystal vinaigrettes, and by his own wretched sense of honor.
It was all disturbing, even frustrating.
Moreover, it was all mere pointless speculation, unless the betrothal could be ended.
When they reached Upper Rock Gardens, Huntley rather disconcertingly bade her farewell on the doorstep, declining an invitation to step inside for a few minutes.
Then, when Nell said, somewhat hesitantly for her, that they would look for him at eight to escort them to Mrs. Calvert’s drum, he clapped a hand to his head and looked at her ruefully.
“I forgot,” he said, “and I told Aurora it would be best if she remained at home this evening. Never gave a thought to the fact that I would be spoiling your pleasure, as well.”
“Merciful heavens, next you will say you sent her to bed without her supper!” Her equilibrium fully recovered now, Nell regarded him in fond exasperation.
“Typically Gothic behavior, if I may say so, my lord. It will serve no useful purpose to keep her at home tonight, and it may do harm. There is, despite your assurance to the contrary, a slight possibility that one of those gentlemen with the prince might have recognized her today: She is an extraordinarily beautiful girl, after all, and has drawn a good deal of attention. If she does not put in an appearance tonight, any suspicion of that sort will be confirmed. We must go.”
He nodded. “I confess, I hadn’t thought the matter through carefully. Very well, you may tell her you cozened me into changing my mind. And, Nell …”
She looked up curiously but found only warmth and a hint of sadness in his expression. “Sir?”
“You see to it that that baggage keeps out of mischief,” he ordered. “My patience is wearing thin, and it will do her no good to turn me into a tyrant before she’s saddled with me for life.”
She grinned at him, dimples showing in both cheeks, but she vouchsafed no reply.
Her mind was made up. If Huntley hadn’t enough resolution to see the betrothal ended, then she would simply have to attend to the matter herself.
Bidding him farewell with the firm intention of having the matter well in hand by suppertime, she went in search of her niece.