Chapter 36
Thirty-Six
“Icannot believe you invited that woman to call,” Madeleine hissed as she, Alix, and Louisa sat in the red drawing room waiting for a footman to bring in the guests who had just been announced.
“As I told you before, Maman,” Alix hissed back, “when I sent the thank-you note for the baby stockings to Miss Leech, I added the invitation as a courtesy. I never imagined she would come, not after everything that has passed between our families. But I was so surprised by the gift of the booties. The stitching is exquisite…”
“Peasant women in Alsace knit booties. One thanks them, Alix, but one does not invite them into one’s home.”
Louisa, who was sitting on a red and gold brocade sofa across from mother and daughter, whispered, “It is possible that Miss Leech is unaware of the troubles. I doubt Lady Anne would be inclined to discuss her brother’s behavior with a companion, even if she is a relative.”
Madeleine traced the swirling red pattern of a plume on the arm of her chair with a carefully manicured finger. “She may be disinclined to discuss the scandal in her own home, but I’ll wager my new hat she’ll have no qualms about bringing the subject up in ours.”
If Livingston, Moreham Hall’s long-suffering butler, was surprised to see Elizabeth Harcrest and James Dinsmore arrive together shortly after tea, decades of training prevented him from expressing it. “His Lordship will see you in the library,” was all he said.
Elizabeth replied, “And where are the ladies?” in an equally bland voice, as if she’d just come down the stairs from her room, rather than having reappeared after several weeks of absence with a man her brother detested on her arm. “My mother and Lady Alix?”
“In the red drawing room.” As they mounted the marble staircase, he added, “Madame la Comtesse de La Brou is with them. They are entertaining guests for tea.”
The footman, standing by the entrance to the earl’s library, straightened imperceptibly when Livingston glared warningly, then gave two discreet knocks with his white-gloved knuckles on the polished paneled door.
At the order, “Come,” he swung the door open, standing at attention, eyes steadfastly fixed on the twisting flowers and vines that adorned the molding across the hall.
“Lady Alix, you are positively glowing,” Anne Dinsmore cooed, one hand casually draped across the narrow waist of her yellow-and-blue-striped gown.
Her eyes drifted across the elegantly set tea table and lingered on the mound of Alix’s belly.
“The very picture of”—she paused as if searching for the correct word—“robust good health. I do hope you are feeling well.”
Alix’s gray eyes met Anne’s. “When one’s life is so full of happiness, one cannot complain.”
“Sugar in your tea, Lady Anne?” Louisa gestured with a pair of silver sugar tongs in an attempt to ease the tension.
“With a disposition such as hers,” Madeleine murmured in French behind her teacup, “she probably takes only lemon.”
Anne shot Madeleine a suspicious glance before turning to answer Louisa. “Just milk, if you please, Lady Moreham.”
“It is so kind of you to invite us to call,” Agatha said enthusiastically when her teacup had been filled. “I have heard so much about Lady Moreham’s famous gardens. I confess, I have spent much of the summer hoping I might have the opportunity to see them for myself.”
“Agatha,” Anne said loudly and patted her cousin’s hand, “you must not embarrass our hosts. While the countryside does not present the same social demands as the London season on a family as important as the Morehams, still there are expectations. Invitations to call upon all the respectable houses. Despite Lady Alix’s delicate condition, I am certain the ladies have been very busy this summer… ”
“But, of course, the ladies have been busy,” Agatha amended quickly, her face coloring like a pink raisin at the reprimand. “We ourselves have been most occupied paying social calls. Why, just last week we returned from a lengthy stay with the Norcrofts of Hartsdale.”
Anne resisted the urge to thank her cousin for so effortlessly introducing the subject into the conversation. Instead, she smiled across the table at her hostesses. “Such a lovely family. Do you know them?”
“We know many people,” Louisa answered noncommittally.
“They have a daughter.” Anne tapped a finger to her lips as if trying to draw forth a memory. “Arabella…I could have sworn she and Elizabeth were close as sisters last season.”
“The season”—Madeleine shrugged—“is such a crush. One may appear to be old friends with a complete stranger, simply because one cannot move away.” Her dark eyes narrowed on Anne. “And one does so hate to be thought rude.”
“True,” Anne persisted, “and yet when I met you in town the other day, you told me Lady Elizabeth was visiting Arabella Norcroft at Hartsdale.”
“Lady Elizabeth Harcrest and Lord Dinsmore, my lord,” Livingston intoned as if they were entering a ballroom instead of her brother’s library. But unlike a formal ball, he did not remain standing by the door.
He exited swiftly as soon as Elizabeth and James stepped into the room.
Elizabeth kept her eyes fixed on the figure of her brother, sitting stiff and straight behind his massive mahogany desk.
The sun shining in from the windows behind him framed the broad outline of his shoulders and set strands of gold in his tawny hair alight.
When she’d been a child, she’d often imagined God on his throne in heaven must look like her brother behind his desk.
Rafe didn’t speak until the door had closed behind Livingston. “I won’t say that I’m pleased to see you, because it is not in my nature to lie.”
Elizabeth resisted the urge to look at James or touch his hand for strength. He had wanted to address Rafe first, to visit him alone, and to protect her from his anger. But she needed to face her brother. “Rafe, I am truly sorry.”
“For which aspect of your appalling behavior? Rolling about on the floor of the Dinsmores’ library with this man?
Asking us if you might visit Arabella Norcroft while planning to run off?
Lying to us? Blackmailing my coachman?” His voice remained cool, but he’d begun to punctuate each sentence with a sharp tap of his finger on the desk.
“Or driving this household to distraction with worry?”
“I regret all the things you have mentioned and more.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “You, Arabella, Alix, Louisa, your coachman, they were not the only ones to whom I lied, not the only ones whom I blackmailed.”
“How very tawdry, Elizabeth. You must be exceedingly proud of yourself.”
His voice reminded her of ice upon a windowpane. In the past, she would have attempted to melt it with tears. “I am not proud of everything I’ve done. So many things were wrong, hurtful. I was foolish and impulsive. But I’ve learned…”
Rafe wasn’t listening. His gaze had shifted from his sister to James.
“I see you are still dancing to tunes played by others, Dinsmore. Your sister…” He tapped a finger sharply against the desk.
“My sister…” Another tap. “Indeed, I should call you out again, but I fear I should find a woman come to fight me in your stead.”
“Rafe!” Elizabeth was appalled at the cruelty of her brother’s words. “James had no part in my plans. I blackmailed him into taking me with him to France.”
He continued to ignore her, his eyes fixed on James. “Still hiding behind a woman’s skirt?”
“No,” James said sharply. “I should have fought back, stood up for what I wanted, instead of letting you mete out what I thought was a just punishment.”
“Just punishment? You think that petty scar is punishment enough for seducing my sister before an audience provided by your sister? Elizabeth,” Rafe demanded, “did your lover tell you that as he lay at my feet in the mud he refused to apologize for touching you?”
“He gave me all the explanations I needed in France…” Elizabeth began.
“France. You took my sister to France, Dinsmore. She might have been killed. I should have cut your lying throat when I had the chance.”
James stepped closer to the desk. “The only lie I perpetrated was in allowing you to believe you could best me. I was not hiding behind a woman’s skirt then, and I am not now.”
“You hid behind Anne’s skirts when you ruined my sister,” Rafe said, his voice oozing contempt. “And now you hide behind Elizabeth’s to seek my forgiveness.”
“Elizabeth knows how deeply I regret my part in her disgrace, but I don’t give a damn for your forgiveness, Moreham. You paid my sister very public advances. You led her and most of the ton to believe you intended to marry her. And then you threw her over for another woman. You humiliated her.”
Rafe gripped the desk’s inlaid edge. “Before I announced my engagement to Alix, I went to see Anne, to explain as much to her as I could. But the circumstances were complicated. I offered her my apologies. I offered to make them public. I never meant to hurt her.”
“Complicated circumstances.” James’s smile was cold. “Admit it, Moreham, you didn’t want to let her know you’d soiled your hands with commerce. You destroyed my sister’s prospects to save your reputation.”
“My marriage to Alix had nothing to do with protecting my business interests. I married her to get her out of France, to save her life. And then I fell in love with her. While I deeply regret the embarrassment the situation caused Anne, she and I were never formally betrothed.” The men stared at each other for a long moment.
“James.” Rafe broke the silence. “You and I both know your sister was far more enamored of my fortune than she ever was of me.”
“Now who is hiding behind a woman’s skirts?” James scoffed. “Though it is rather ironic when you stop and think on it. My sister would never have married you had she known the source of your wealth.”
Rafe uncurled his fingers, flattening them on the polished desk. “If it isn’t my forgiveness you are seeking, then why have you come here?”