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‘On cameos.’ Miss Daphne leant forwards. ‘Sir Francis is closer to my age than yours. You want a young man to warm your bed, Louisa. Trust me on this.’
Louisa took a delicate sip of the chocolate. Miss Daphne seemed to have an uncanny way of knowing if there was an attraction between a couple. This evening’s kiss had been about the past, an aberration, and had nothing to do with her present or, more importantly, her future. ‘Nevertheless he expects an answer.’
‘It was good to see young Jonathon looking so well.’ Miss Daphne reached for the sugar bowl. ‘Particularly after his accident a few years ago.’
Louisa froze. Until this evening she had not even realised that either of the Misses Elliots knew Jonathon.
‘You know about the accident,’ she said slowly.
‘Mattie liked to keep up with the doings of Arthur Fanshaw and his relations, or at least she used to.’ Miss Daphne gave her a sharp look. ‘After you arrived, she had a new enthusiasm and rarely spoke of them. I was pleased at the time that she had finally come to terms with her heartache, but now I wonder.’
Louisa swallowed hard. Miss Mattie knew the full story about her past, but had never mentioned it. ‘Curious. I … I had left the household before the accident. The first I heard of it was today. Miss Mattie never said anything to me.’
Miss Daphne set her cup down. ‘Did Mattie know of your connection to the Ponsby-Smythes?’
Louisa raised her head and met the elderly lady’s gaze full on. ‘Yes, she did. I explained about my past when the doctor introduced us.’
‘She will have had her reasons.’ Miss Daphne frowned. ‘Old scandals can return when you least expect it. People’s memories are long, but I think you are being overly cautious, my dear. There is no need to go back to Sorrento with your tail between your legs, and accept a proposal that you will regret for the rest of your life. We can keep to our new schedule.’
Louisa reached for the sugar bowl and added another spoon of sugar to her chocolate, before she carefully stirred. The result was far too sweet, but it helped to steady her nerves. ‘Perhaps, but I do not want anyone to say that I was wicked.’
‘Who would say that?’
‘Your niece Honoria. She might say that I exerted undue influence on Miss Mattie before she died. I never knew Miss Mattie intended to leave me the money.’ Louisa had never asked for the inheritance. It had come as a complete surprise. Both Miss Mattie and Louisa had shared a common fascination for all things ancient. Under Miss Mattie’s tutelage, Louisa had become an expert on cameos and Miss Mattie had considered Louisa the best person to maintain her collection.
‘Mattie loved you like a daughter. She also gave Honoria and that solicitor of hers a piece of her mind. You need not fear. You will have no problems from my niece. Mattie made sure of it. Mattie liked to take care of all contingencies and I trusted her.’ Miss Daphne reached out her hand. ‘But I think I deserve to know what happened with young Jonathon and make my own judgement. You want to run away from me because of it.’
‘What happened to me, happened years ago. It is a depressingly old and familiar tale.’ Louisa attempted a smile. ‘I learnt my lesson. Believing a gentleman who promises the moon leads to disappointment. Miss Mattie agreed with me.’
‘I want the story and not the aftermath. The aftermath I know. What passed between you all those years ago?’
Louisa swallowed hard, considering how to tell her tale. She had been an impressionable twenty years old and had thought her fairy tale was coming true—a handsome prince who married for love instead of duty. She should have seen the warning signs—the bored rake home from London, the seduction, and then her giving in and believing him when he had promised to return with a licence to marry her. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had dismissed her without a character reference when rumours had reached her ears. Then, three months later, she had discovered that she was pregnant and had gone to Mrs Ponsby-Smythe’s, searching for Jonathon, and had discovered about the impending marriage between Jonathon and Clarissa. When on the voyage to Naples, she had fallen ill with a high fever and the baby had been born too early—a beautiful little girl with translucent skin and jet-black hair, perfect in every way, except she never breathed. A large part of Louisa had died that day.
‘Miss Daphne, he is part of my painful past, not my future.’ Louisa put her hand over Miss Daphne’s withered one as she finished the story. ‘But you can see why I must return to Sorrento. I do not want any rumours to soil your skirts.’
‘No, no, that would be giving into the pompous society prigs without a fight. You must stay.’ Two pink spots appeared on Miss Daphne’s withered cheeks. ‘I can fight. I am unafraid and I stick by my true friends.’
‘I know.’ Louisa smiled back.
She valued Miss Daphne’s friendship. It was why she had agreed to this trip and why she knew she would stay until Miss Daphne wanted to leave, but it was unfair to ask Miss Daphne to fight those sorts of battles at her age.
Louisa knew she had made a mistake, and some day she would stop paying for it. She leant forwards and banished tonight’s kiss to the further reaches of her mind. Her reaction was an aberration brought on by suddenly seeing him again. Now that she was prepared, nothing like that would ever happen again.
‘I am no fool and will not make that mistake again.’
‘You are certain of that?’ Miss Daphne’s eyes took on a knowing gleam. ‘I have some knowledge of human nature, Louisa, despite being a spinster. Men seldom look at women like Lord Chesterholm looked at you if they are uninterested.’
Louisa concentrated on gathering up the cups and saucers, arranging them neatly on the tray, ready for Jenkins, the butler, to remove it, rather than meeting Miss Daphne’s knowing gaze. ‘Miss Daphne, you are beginning to speculate. Speculation overheats the blood as Miss Mattie was wont to say. A woman can learn from her mistakes. I learnt from mine.’
‘Hmm, but what are his intentions now? I have often found men with fascinating eyes can make a woman forget her lessons. And Lord Chesterholm has some of the most fascinating I have seen in many a long year.’
‘Your eyesight must be mistaken.’ Louisa focused on the cups and tried not to think about Jonathon’s preposterous suggestion that he had a claim over her. She was not an object. Miss Daphne’s eyes assessed her for a long moment but Louisa looked back unblinkingly. Finally Miss Daphne turned away.
‘I accept you want to believe that, Louisa.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Please ask Cook to make iced buns for my At Home tomorrow.’
‘Iced buns?’ Louisa frowned. Miss Daphne never served teacakes at At Homes. The women had a cup of tea or coffee, but never iced buns. The whole procedure was shrouded in tradition, even on the hottest days in Sorrento.
‘I am expecting callers, gentlemen callers. You did make an impression, Louisa, even if you wish to deny it.’ Miss Daphne tapped the side of her nose. ‘And if I am right, tomorrow’s At Home will be highly productive. One must fight fire with fire. And then, Louisa, when it is all done, we can go home with our heads held high.’
Miss Daphne swept out of the room.
Louisa stared at the dregs of her hot chocolate, turning the conversation over in her mind. It made a sort of sickening sense. Miss Daphne expected Jonathon to appear alongside Lord Furniss. Louisa reached for the poker and gave the coal fire a final stir, sending an arch of flame into the air.
All she knew was that she could not remain in this drawing room like some scared rabbit, waiting for Jonathon to appear. She had stopped running years ago. Jonathon deserved to learn a lesson in civility and she looked forward to administering it. Miss Mattie would have approved.
‘Miss Daphne,’ Louisa called on her way to bed, ‘the At Home will go splendidly tomorrow. I can feel it in my bones.’
The clock on the mantelpiece was only a few minutes away from twelve. Last night in bed, Louisa had dreaded that Jonathon would arrive bright and early, but now she dreaded that Miss Daphne’s premonition was wrong. The sole callers were a Mrs Blandish and her two daughters.
Once the At Home was finished, she would confront Jonathon, corner him and force him to back down. He would cease to threaten her or her good name.
Louisa risked a breath and tried once again to concentrate on the conversation between Miss Daphne and the younger Miss Blandish, a conversation that appeared to have Miss Daphne enthralled beyond the bounds of propriety. The conversation appeared to revolve around Miss Nella Blandish’s exploits with a gang of murderous thieves earlier that summer in Gilsland.
‘And now my former governess, Miss Milton, is married to Viscount Ravensworth,’ Miss Nella Blandish finished with a triumphal clap of her hands. ‘I received the letter this very morning. And the entire marriage is thanks to me.’
‘That is quite enough, Nella.’ The elder Miss Blandish gave a prolonged sniff and toss of her blonde curls. She would be pretty if she did not look so bored with the proceedings. As it was, Miss Blandish reminded Louisa of Clarissa Newton—beautiful, but self-absorbed. ‘We all understand that we were not invited to the wedding.’
‘Lord Ravensworth procured a special licence, rather than having a society wedding,’ her mother said with a thoughtful expression. ‘It is how a governess can come to marry a viscount. Personally I never thought Daisy Milton had it in her, but it turns out she was an heiress all along.’
‘Daisy Milton?’ Louisa said, sitting bolt upright, all thoughts of ending the visit fled. ‘Daisy Milton, who has a sister Felicity and a young niece?’
‘That is correct. Do you have a connection?’ Mrs Blandish raised her lorgnette and proceeded to minutely examine Louisa.
‘Daisy Milton is an old friend of mine, but I had no idea that she was even engaged. Let alone entangled with jewel thieves.’ Louisa put her hands to her mouth. She dreaded to think how Daisy had coped. Daisy had based her entire existence on keeping her reputation spotless. ‘I look forward to receiving her latest letter.’
‘Indeed,’ Mrs Blandish said, settling herself against the sofa’s cushions. Her tone implied that Daisy might not have time for such an acquaintance now that she had been elevated to a peerage.
‘You do seem to be hearing news about your old acquaintances, Louisa dear,’ Miss Daphne said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘And here you thought you would not have any connection to Newcastle.’
‘Do you know someone else?’ Miss Blandish asked, suddenly becoming animated. ‘Is it someone we know? Someone in society?’
Louisa inwardly seethed. If only Miss Daphne had had the sense to remain quiet. People had long memories and there was no telling what Mrs Blandish might have heard and how the tale had been twisted. Daisy might even have inadvertently told Louisa’s tale. It bothered her that less than twenty-four hours after encountering Jonathon, she was tempted to return to that naïve girl who looked to others to solve her problems.
‘I … I …’ Louisa began. ‘That is to say …’
Miss Elliot rocked back and forth as if she were no older than Miss Nella Blandish. ‘The fourth Baron of Chesterholm did Louisa the honour of renewing his acquaintance last evening.’
‘And were you good friends with just Lord Chesterholm or his late wife as well?’ Miss Blandish asked with a faint curl of her lip. There was a sharp intake of breath from Miss Daphne and Miss Nella Blandish pretended a sudden interest in her glove buttons.
‘Susan!’ her mother exclaimed. ‘Manners are the young lady’s greatest asset.’
‘I trust you do not think the question impertinent,’ Miss Blandish said, her cheeks becoming stained cherry pink. ‘You do understand why I ask it? If one is to be a débutante in London, one must be so careful.’ She gave Nella Blandish a ferocious look. ‘Particularly when one’s sister is given to exaggeration. My sister’s tongue nearly did for dear Miss Milton’s prospects and I must not have the same happen to me.’
‘I was a governess to Lord Chesterholm’s sister,’ Louisa replied with a clenched-jaw smile.
‘And you have given up being a governess?’ Mrs Blandish asked, leaning forwards, her eyes suddenly alight. ‘We are currently between—’
An involuntary shudder went through Louisa. Mrs Blandish with her purple turban and self-righteous airs represented all that was wrong with being a governess. She pitied anyone who had the misfortune to work for the woman. ‘I found it more pleasant to be a companion.’
‘But now, Louisa is a dear, dear friend.’ Miss Daphne gave a broad smile. ‘Louisa is far too modest about her prospects. My sister left her the bulk of her considerable fortune. She has no need to work. I daily expect a good match for her. My nephew …’
‘I am sure you choose your friends well, Miss Elliot.’ Miss Blandish began to wave her fan about and her eyes took on a hunted expression. ‘No harm was intended. Mama is desperate to replace Miss Milton.’
‘Miss Daphne and her late sister have never had problems distinguishing between true friends and hangerson.’ Louisa kept her head up. The Blandishes and their kind were the sort of creatures that Louisa despised—only concerned about appearances and quick to judge. Exactly like Clarissa Newton and her parents.
Before Miss Blandish had a chance to reply, Jenkins brought in a silver tray with two cream-coloured calling cards.
Miss Daphne took the cards and her face lit up, becoming twenty years younger. ‘Mrs Blandish, my nephew, Viscount Furniss, and Lord Chesterholm have both come to pay their regards as well. What a shame you cannot extend your call.’
‘Mama,’ Miss Nella Blandish said, ‘we ought to depart. Miss Milton always used to say—fifteen minutes and no longer.’
Mrs Blandish made a face like she had swallowed a particularly sour plum. ‘Come along, girls. We have other business to attend to. The day is wasting.’
‘But, Mama …’ Miss Blandish wailed. ‘Surely we can stay a moment longer. They are both … eligible.’
Louisa stared at the woman in astonishment.
‘Has Susan become utterly devoid of sensibility?’ Miss Nella Blandish asked in a stage whisper. ‘The Viscountess Ravensworth would be horrified!’
‘You will consider staying, Mrs Blandish,’ Miss Daphne said, patting the sofa with a conspiratorial expression. ‘Some rules were meant to be broken. particularly when faced with an unmarried daughter and two highly eligible titled men.’
Mrs Blandish hesitated, obviously debating the demands of propriety and the demands of matrimony. Matrimony won out and she settled herself back down on the sofa. ‘I suppose we can impose on Miss Elliot and Miss Sibson for a few moments longer.’
Miss Daphne gave a beatific smile. Louisa narrowed her gaze. Miss Daphne had some scheme in mind and wanted the Blandish tribe to stay.
‘I had hoped you would see reason,’ Miss Daphne said. ‘Miss Nella tells such interesting stories. My nephew loves a good tale.’
Louisa stood up and reached for her beaded reticule. She would find a way to speak to Jonathon in private. The letter was far too damning to be waved under his nose in public, particularly with the Blandishes hanging on every word. But she had cried her last tear over him four years ago.
Jonathon strode in, his frock coat flaring to emphasise the length of his legs. He surveyed the gathered throng, every inch the proud aristocrat from his immaculately tied stock to his butter-yellow gloves and silver-topped cane. Despite all the promises she had given throughout the years, her pulse beat faster as his eyes appeared to linger on her. Louisa turned her gaze to the reticule, going over each damning line of the letter in her mind, reminding her errant heart. He had ruined her life once. Only a fool would allow that to happen a second time and she was no fool.
‘Lord Chesterholm, Rupert, what a delightful surprise,’ Miss Daphne said, fluttering her fan. ‘You must have guessed that Cook baked iced buns today.’
‘I tempted him with a promise of your iced buns, Aunt,’ Lord Furniss said with smug superiority in his voice. ‘You always have iced buns at your At Homes. A shameful extravagance, but a welcome one. My mother would never approve.’
‘Just like burning more than one candle?’ Louisa asked.
‘Precisely, Miss Sibson. You remember my mother’s odd quirks.’ Furniss flushed slightly and gave a decided nod. ‘What my mother remains in ignorance of, she cannot condemn.’
‘Dear Rupert,’ Miss Daphne said, holding out her hand. ‘You must meet the Blandishes. They were involved in the doings at Gilsland Spa. You know … when poor Edward Heritage died.’
‘Charmed, I am sure.’ Lord Furniss gave the briefest of nods towards the Blandishes, before capturing Louisa’s hand and pressing it tightly. Spying Jonathon’s glower, she resisted the temptation to pull away and allowed Lord Furniss to hold it for a half-minute more than was strictly proper. ‘Now, my dear Miss Sibson, have you missed my company? Did you count the minutes?’
‘Rupert!’ Miss Daphne exclaimed and Lord Furniss dropped Louisa’s hand.
‘What is the temptation of the iced buns?’ Miss Blandish asked, wrinkling her nose. ‘I must confess to never having tried one.’
‘You have never tried one! You have not lived until you have eaten iced buns,’ Lord Furniss exclaimed. ‘Is that not right, Miss Sibson? My aunt’s iced buns are known far and wide. The mere memory of them from our days at Eton is why Chesterholm accompanied me here today.’
‘And the pleasure of Miss Sibson’s company. I found last night’s exchange to be most enlightening.’ Jonathon’s blue-green gaze caught Louisa and held her. Everything else seemed to fade into insignificance.
A small tingle coursed through her. She forced her breath in and out of her lungs. Her reaction was a ghost from ages past. It had nothing to do with the infuriating man standing in front of her and everything to do with her younger, impossibly naïve self. ‘Do you not agree, Miss Sibson?’
‘Do we agree on anything?’ Louisa pasted a smile on her face. ‘We spoke of long-ago trifles that had no meaning then and even less now.’
‘The value of intriguing conversation is immeasurable,’ Jonathon returned smoothly as his eyes taunted her. ‘One can learn such fascinating facts through a few moments of idle talk.’
‘I think you are correct, Lord Chesterholm,’ Mrs Blandish called out from where she sat, making it clear that she for one was following the entire exchange with interest. ‘The pursuit of knowledge is always enlightening.’
Jonathon’s lips turned upwards and his eyes took on a mischievous expression. ‘Particularly when one chances upon old friends one had considered long departed from this world.’
‘The way you talk, Lord Chesterholm—’ Mrs Blandish’s turban quivered with disapproval ‘—one might think Miss Sibson was dead when she stands before us, breathing and in good health. It would be monstrous to spread a tale like that about anyone.’
Jonathon’s gaze travelled slowly down Louisa’s form, his eyes lingering on her curves. His smile increased, becoming that special smile, the one which he had always given her just before kissing her. ‘No, I agree she is very much alive. I had been wrongly informed.’
‘And you are pleased with that,’ Miss Daphne said.
‘Did I ever say I wasn’t?’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Simply surprised to discover the fact. It would appear I put my trust in the wrong people.’
‘The notions some people entertain without bothering to check the facts.’ Louisa clenched her reticule. She looked forward to seeing Jonathon’s arrogant expression replaced with abject begging. And for each barb he sent her way, she’d make him beg a little longer.
‘Are we going to discuss cooking utensils now, Miss Sibson?’ He gave a slight flourish with his hand, daring her.
‘Is that a pile of stones I see beside you, Lord Chesterholm? What is the state of your soul?’
‘Utensils, stones and souls? I fear I cannot follow this conversation,’ Miss Blandish declared with a slight pout and shake of her golden curls.
‘Honestly, Susan.’ Miss Nella rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘A pot calling a kettle black. And from the Bible about someone without sin casting the first stone. Miss Sibson and Lord Chesterholm are having the most interesting quarrel. Now do be quiet and you might learn things.’
‘It is a long-standing argument,’ Louisa said quickly.
‘Miss Sibson and I used to enjoy such arguments,’ Jonathon said with a teasing glint in his eye. ‘She was quite notorious for her skill with … words.’
‘Miss Sibson was renowned for her wit in Sorrento as well,’ Lord Furniss said, hooking his thumbs into his waistcoat. ‘For my part, I always think of the right words precisely five minutes after I have left a gathering.’
