CHAPTER NINETEEN
This time, Silvia pushed back, but he held her firmly. “I did that to keep a promise I made to my cousin.”
“Vivian said something to that effect, but I don’t believe you. He didn’t care enough about her to attempt to extract promises on her behalf. The only woman who ever mattered to him was Mrs. Raeford.”
Beresford winced. “You knew about her?”
“The only one who didn’t know was Vivian, until she walked in on them one day.”
“He didn’t tell me that.” The damned self-serving fool. “Yet the fact remains that before he died he asked me to offer for her.” He glanced at the sky and swallowed. Somehow he had to make her understand. “After all he’d done for me as a child and as a young man, I couldn’t deny him his last wish.”
“He was not that much older than you, and he didn’t come into the title until a few years ago. How could he have—”
“Edgar convinced his father to pay for my education when my own father would not, and pay for my commission, including all but the last promotion. He made a point of having me invited to Beresford Abbey during school breaks. He gave me a sense of family when I would have had none.”
“That’s the reason you were there so much.” Her tone softened. “I never knew.”
“No.” Nick barely croaked the word out. He didn’t like feeling all these emotions. He damned sure didn’t want to talk about them. Getting into a ring to work things out was much easier, and it didn’t hurt nearly as much. “It wasn’t anything I’d discuss.”
“What would you have done if she’d accepted?”
“I don’t know, but I think part of me was sure she wouldn’t have me. I did not know you were with her. If I had . . .”
“Harrumph.” Silvia started tugging her hands away again.
He couldn’t let her go. If she didn’t listen to him now, she might never agree to see him again, and he’d lose her for good.
Finally she ceased. “That still doesn’t explain why you continued to visit Vivian after she refused you.”
“Once.” He gave her the look that had sent experienced lieutenants scrambling. “I visited once more. Before I left the abbey, I made a promise at my cousin’s grave that I would only ask twice. But I couldn’t do it again.” Nick nuzzled her temple. “The only thing I’ve wanted for years was for you to marry me. Silvia, please don’t refuse me.” She shook her head. “If you do, I will not give up until you say you’ll be mine.”
Silvia frowned, a sure sign she was thinking about it. “I am not sure it would work. We bicker constantly.”
But she’d never been so angry with him before. At least now he knew the reason. He gazed down at her and smiled. “You are amazingly stubborn.”
“Me! Why, you once claimed the sky was green and—”
Nick kissed her again. She tasted like the sweetest honey. If he could manage it, he’d stay there all day. “I would have done anything to gain your attention and keep you with me. As long as we did not come to an accord, you’d stay until your mother called you in.” He dropped to one knee. “My beloved Miss Corbet, please make me the happiest of men and agree to argue with me for the rest of our lives.”
A burble of laughter escaped her lips, and, finally, she smiled. “My lord, you must ask my father first.”
“I already have, and he has given me permission to address you.” He couldn’t keep the grimace from his face. “He also told me he would be pleased with the marriage, now that we are older and your sisters have married.” What the old man hadn’t told Nick was that he’d poisoned the well.
Nick’s heart tightened as she stared down at him until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He pulled her down to the ground.
“Nick! My gown!”
How could she think about her gown at a time like this? Didn’t she know how hard this was for him? “I’ll buy you another. I’ll buy you a hundred; just please say yes.”
“Thank you very much, but I’ll purchase my own clothing.” Rising, she shook out her skirts. “I’ll tell you my decision in the morning.” She left, sweeping grandly back into the house.
Damnation! That had not gone as he’d wanted it to. Then again, when had anything with Miss Silvia Stubborn Corbet gone the way he’d wished the first time? Standing, he brushed off his pantaloons. He’d have to think of something between now and the morning to convince her to wed him.
Silvia’s head spun as she made her way unseeing back to the terrace. Memories of their first kiss melded with the ones they’d just shared. Frissons of pleasure still coursed through her body. As a girl she had thought he was wonderful until they argued with each other, yet even then she’d wanted to spend more time with him.
Still, she had to think about this. Was Nick lying when he told her about her father, or had Papa lied? That would have to be worked out first. And what about her mother? Nick hadn’t said that what Mama had told her about kissing was false, but he had seemed terribly surprised. She must ask someone how one became pregnant. She must also sort through her thoughts and emotions. If everything he’d said to her was the truth, then she had been wrong to detest him for so long and wrong to treat him as she had been doing.
“Silvia.” Lady Telford joined her at the table on the terrace.
She blinked. “Where is Vivian?”
“She had to go out.” Her ladyship’s gaze traveled from Silvia’s head to her hem. “How are things going with Lord Beresford? I almost stepped in a time or two, but you seemed to have the situation well in hand.”
Oh no! She must have seen Nick kiss her. “I’m not sure. He said some things, and I don’t know if they are true or not.”
Clara gave Silvia a shrewd look. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Perhaps.” She had to ask someone, and her ladyship had given birth to several children. “Can a lady become pregnant by kissing a gentleman?”
Brows snapping together, Clara asked, “Is that what you were told?”
Silvia sat in one of the chairs and fiddled, pleating and unpleating her skirt. “Um, yes.”
“Well, that is certainly an interesting tale to tell girls, but it is not the truth. Getting with child is rather more involved than that.” She paused for a moment. “Though not much more, and I suppose when one gets down to it, kissing eases the way.”
“But it takes more than kissing?”
“Yes. Vastly more.”
That answered one question. “How long do you think it would take for a letter to get to my father and for me to receive his response?”
“The question you really need an answer to is how long will it take him to respond.” Clara’s lips firmed. “Something tells me you’ve been fed a quantity of Banbury tales. If you will tell me what exactly is going on, I may be able to give you the truth you deserve, not what others wished to tell you.”
Silvia was so tired of all of this. Of fighting her feelings for Nick, of not knowing what her future held, of her father clinging to her until he found a replacement for her mother. “Before Mama died . . .”
In the end, Clara had the whole story, including the part about Vivian’s dead husband.
“All of this makes much more sense now.” Clara ordered wine and poured them both a glass. “I do not know Lord Beresford well, but”—Silvia opened her mouth, and Clara held up one finger—“I do not believe he is capable of calculated cruelty, especially toward someone he cares for. Look at what he did for his cousin after the man’s death. Even if he thought Vivian wouldn’t accept him, he was taking a risk.” She took a sip of the chilled wine while Silvia let Cousin Clara’s words sink in. “I also now understand why you were so angry with him.” Silvia nodded so hard a curl fell down, then her friend continued. “But would you have eloped with him?”
“Before Mama died, I was to have come out that next spring. I was almost seventeen.”
“Yes, my dear,” Clara said kindly. “Yet would your father have allowed you to marry and leave with Beresford? If he thought you would have remained at home, he might have countenanced the match, but”—Silvia hated buts—“would you have been content to remain in Beresford while your new husband went off to Spain or wherever he was going?”
Silvia took a large drink of wine. “No. I would have insisted upon going with him.”
“Precisely my point.”
“Was Nick—were we—being selfish, wanting me to leave?”
“No, child. You were being in love.” Clara reached over and covered Silvia’s hands. “Your father was most likely afraid to lose you as he had your mother, and there were the younger girls he had to think about.”
“What you are saying is that I can believe Nick when he claims to love me and that he would not have left me if he thought I was breeding?”
Clara’s brows raised, and although she pressed her lips together, they twitched. “If that young man thought you were enceinte, you would have been on your way to Scotland, and no one would have been able to stop him from marrying you.”
She was right. Nick would have carried Silvia off on horseback if necessary. All the anger that had been building toward her father burbled up. “What Papa and old Lord Beresford did wasn’t right.”
“No, it was not. Your father should have sat down with you and Beresford and discussed the problems as he saw them. From Beresford’s and your father’s devil’s bargain, Beresford came out with a promotion, but you, my dear, had nothing but your anger.”
And the knowledge, false though it was, that Nick had betrayed her.
Suddenly Silvia was tired. She’d spent so many years being angry with him, and the moment he came back into her life she’d attacked him. Not to mention hitting him twice to-day. She wanted to run to her chamber and cry, and at the same time she wanted to travel straight to her father and tell him what he’d done was wrong. Now she had to make it up to Nick and beg his forgiveness. She’d probably choke doing it, and he’d laugh at her. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I think Lord Beresford understands a good deal more now than he did when he got here. All you have to do is decide if you want him.”
“Yes.” Silvia nodded more to herself than her friend, and she did want him, more than ever before.
Rupert had tried to keep the tone of their conversation light, but had failed. There were times he thought he did not have the experience to convince her to confide in him. And at other times, Vivian appeared so much younger and more inexperienced than he was.
“Perhaps I could help.” She was searching his face, and her own countenance appeared troubled. “I’m told I am a good confidant.”
How the deuce was he to answer her? “Thank you for your offer. However, this is a problem I must work out for myself.” If only he could ask what her husband had done.
Earlier today when he’d managed to arrange a meeting with Vivian’s lady’s maid, the woman had not been at all surprised to discover Rupert knew Cleo was Vivian. Once the maid had understood he wanted to marry her mistress, her hostility had dissipated. During their short discussion, Rupert had come to understand that Vivian did not have a clue he knew her identity. She apparently thought he wanted the imaginary Cleo instead of her. It bewildered him that she could not realize her essence was hers alone. He would recognize her anywhere and in any disguise. Yet now what was he to do? If he simply told her, she might be so embarrassed she would run away from him.
They had finished the circuit, and Rupert searched for innocuous conversation. If he thought relations between him and Vivian were complicated now, how much more so would they become unless he could figure a way out of this tangle? He must find a way to reveal his knowledge so as not to humiliate her in the process. “Would you like to return home, or shall we make one more turn?”
“I’m ready to leave.” Her features appeared as strained as he felt. “I think my cousin has plans for us, and I am concerned about Miss Corbet.”
“I shall take you back to Mount Street.”
“That would be for the best.” Vivian had glanced at him for a moment from beneath her long pale lashes, before fixing her gaze straight ahead.
Damn and blast it! Perhaps this had not been such a brilliant idea, yet Rupert couldn’t stay away from her. Was he any further ahead now than when he had gone to fetch her? He spared a brief look at the lady who was fast becoming the center of his life. Yes. He now knew that she would not be able to handle her deception well or for long. The question was, would she bolt before he could convince her to marry him?
Another meeting with her maid was in order, but first he’d have to make certain she would see him. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of Lady Thornhill, but she is famous for her drawing rooms. Her first one in a very long time is to-morrow afternoon. I would consider it an honor if you allow me to escort you.”
The number of people in the Park had been increasing dramatically, and Rupert had to watch his pair. Even with his attention on them, Vivian seemed to be taking an extraordinarily long time in answering.
He was trying to think of something else to say when she finally replied, “Thank you. I would be delighted. Lady Evesham told me about Lady Thornhill, and I am glad to have the opportunity to meet her.”
One hurdle over. Now if he could cover the rest of the ground that easily. “I shall fetch you at two.”
Except for a few comments about the weather, the remainder of the ride back to Lady Telford’s house was mostly silent. Both he and Vivian seemed to have lost the ability to make small talk. How had he got himself into this position and what the devil was going on in her beautiful head?
When they arrived at Mount Street, Rupert motioned the footman away and lifted Vivian down from the phaeton, carefully lowering her feet to the pavement. He took her hand and smiled. “I shall see you later.”
Vivian’s heart was thudding in her chest, and she couldn’t breathe. If only he knew how soon they would meet. “Yes, to-morrow.” She had to get away, now, before she ruined everything and told him she was Cleo. “I look forward to it.”
Despite the footman’s presence, Rupert escorted her to the door. “As do I.”
His voice was low and gravelly, as if it pained him to speak. Did he feel any guilt at all about making love to one woman at night and spending time with another one during the day? Probably not. Men were different from women in that respect. Even the best of them.
Vivian’s mother had told her she must overlook her husband’s infidelities. Yet she had thought Rupert was different, and her heart wrenched at the deceit. She should tell him, but then he’d leave her, and she desperately wanted more of what he’d given her last evening.
“There you are.” Pulling her gloves on, Clara came down the stairs. “I thought you’d forgot we have been invited to drink tea with Lady Worthington.” She gave Vivian a critical run-over. “You’ll do, and here is the coach.” Her cousin blinked as if just realizing they weren’t alone. “Stanstead, you may assist Lady Beresford into my carriage.”
Vivian was going to swoon if he picked her up again. Every nerve in her body was attuned to his touch. “I’m sure his lordship does not wish to leave his horses standing.”
“Nonsense, it will only take a moment.” Clara called over her shoulder, “Silvia, are you ready yet?”
“Coming, Cousin Clara.”
“I’m happy you are feeling better, my dear.”
Silvia’s cheeks bloomed as the footman assisted her into the coach.
Rupert, although he’d not said a word, had kept hold of Vivian’s arm and appeared reluctant to let her go.
“Thank you, my lord.”
“Think nothing of it.” He gave a slight bow. “I am yours to command, my lady.”
Her stomach tightened painfully. “Thank you. Until to-morrow.”
At first she thought his lips had tightened, but one corner tilted up. “Indeed.”
She slid onto the bench next to her cousin, while Silvia sat on the rear-facing seat. Clara gave Vivian a calculating look, and she decided to deflect attention from herself. “Silvia, did you straighten things out with Lord Beresford?”
The younger woman chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m not sure. Although, I can say I have a different perspective of him than I did before.” She placed her reticule on her lap. “Time will tell.”
“I do believe,” Clara said as she turned from the window, “Lord Oliver is on his way to my house. Pity we won’t be there to greet him.”
From the tone of her voice she was anything but disappointed.
Silvia frowned. “I thought you favored him.”
“Oh no, my dear.” Clara settled back with a smug mien. “I favored the effect he was having on others. Now that the situation is close to being resolved, I have no further use for him.”
Stratagems. Vivian was simply happy they were not directed at her. Why did life have to be made so complicated? Not that she had any right to talk. Allowing Rupert to think she was another woman wasn’t exactly simplifying her life. Maybe being dutiful should have been enough for her. Still, Rupert had a way of making her feel like a precious jewel, and Vivian could not yet give him up.
Sir Walter Scott had it right when he’d written in his great work Marmion, “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive!”
“Did you say something, my dear?” Clara asked.
“Nothing of import.” Vivian knew herself too well to think she could keep up her pretense for more than a few weeks. First Cleo would have to disappear, then, a week or so later, Vivian would take a journey out of Town to view properties. That would give Rupert time to find a wife, something he should be attending to rather than dallying with her.
If only he did not dally so well.