The Nobody: Signet Regency Romance (InterMix) Page 16

  Caitlin gradually became aware that an evening spent in the same room with Richard Kilverton, if one could not speak to him, and if one must be continually on guard never even to look at him, was a severe punishment. Whenever she relaxed her guard for an instant, her wayward eyes would seek him out and follow him about the room. She kept catching herself up short and forcing her eyes to turn elsewhere—anywhere. That was how she saw her shy little sister, and that model of propriety, Captain Talgarth, slipping guiltily in from the garden. Caitlin did smile a little when she saw the self-conscious air with which Emily patted her hair into place. The glow in her sister’s eyes was as unmistakable as that in Captain Talgarth’s. Obviously something excessively improper had just occurred; probably a kiss; perhaps an offer of marriage made without obtaining Papa’s consent!

  A little laugh, and a pang of envy, shook Caitlin. She turned her eyes away with a sigh, to find Mr. Montague approaching her. He was gorgeously arrayed in dark blue superfine and dazzling white linen. As always, his appearance was precise to a pin—marred only by the indefinable air of rakishness that clung to him.

  Mr. Montague handed Caitlin a glass of champagne and nodded wisely, jerking his head in the direction she had just been looking. “Devilish, ain’t it? Your sister and Captain Talgarth, smelling of April and May! Enough to give anyone a fit of the dismals. I don’t mind telling you, Miss Campbell the odds are shortening in the clubs.”

  She stared at him, not sure he was serious. “Do you ask me to believe, Mr. Montague, that gentlemen are placing bets regarding my sister’s future?”

  “That’s it.” He must have seen her shocked expression, for he added hastily, “Meaning no disrespect to her, of course! But people are bound to talk. Well, only look at Talgarth! Never saw anyone make a greater cake of himself. How long has he known the chit? A fortnight? And here it is, bellows to mend with him already!”

  She laughed, but shook her head. “Mr. Montague, if you must employ boxing cant, pray do not expect me to understand you! Are you one of the enterprising gentlemen placing these vulgar bets?”

  He waved a graceful hand. “That wouldn’t be sporting of me, would it? After all, I’m privy to inside information. Serena’s not one to keep her observations to herself.”

  Caitlin eyed him anxiously. Was he in Serena’s confidence on this matter? She wondered if she should warn him that his sudden flirtation with Lady Serena had not gone unnoticed. She began cautiously.

  “Until last night, I was not aware of the—the extraordinary degree of intimacy between you and Lady Serena.”

  Mr. Montague grinned. “Oh, Lord, yes! We’ve known each other forever. I’m quite one of the family, you know.”

  That effectively silenced Caitlin Mr. Montague watched as she cast about in her mind for some tactful way to proceed, and laughed at her. “I believe I know what you are about to say—in the kindest way imaginable, of course! You would like to warn me, would you not? I daresay all the biddies are clucking, and naturally Serena don’t know a thing about it. She never did see past the end of her pretty little nose. Trying to scotch one rumor, she starts another! It’ll be her name that’s bandied about the clubs next—yes, and mine! Going to ask me not to make a parade of Serena’s folly, aren’t you?”

  Caitlin smiled apologetically. “Well, I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but I would be glad to know that she stands in no danger of making a figure of herself. I am very fond of Serena.” She laid a hand on his arm beseechingly. “Mr. Montague, you are a man of the world. I am sure you are aware how vicious gossip can be. You will take care, won’t you?”

  Mr. Montague drew himself up indignantly. “Well, I like that! Is it likely I’d harm Serena? You wound me, Miss Campbell! Positively, you wound me! You must know I hold Serena in far too much affection to let her do anything featherbrained.”

  “You relieve my mind. Thank you! It’s not that one expects Serena to cross the line, naturally—”

  “Not with me, at any rate.” A hint of bitterness sounded in Mr. Montague’s voice, and Caitlin looked up at him, surprised. His sunny smile instantly returned. “Drink your champagne, Miss Campbell!” he recommended. “You are taking far too serious a view of things, ’pon my soul!”

  As he tossed off the glass in his own hand, Caitlin smiled and followed his example. Mr. Montague had noticed that she was not in spirits; that would never do. She had heard it said that champagne had an elevating effect. She would see what it could do for her. When a footman passed by with a tray, she resolutely helped herself to another glass.

  Mr. Montague tucked Caitlin’s hand companionably into his elbow. “Let us go and find Serena, Miss Campbell. You will see for yourself how admirably I hold the line, no matter How much encouragement I receive to overstep it!”

  They found Serena surrounded by a rather noisy group of admirers. One gentleman was engaged in taking snuff from her outstretched wrist, while another laughingly protested against her granting such a favor. Serena, who had stripped off her glove to allow the foolishness, was flushed with excitement at her own daring. As she perceived Ned and Caitlin approaching, she tossed Ned a glance full of saucy challenge. He instantly rose to the occasion.

  “What’s this!” he exclaimed. “Serena, my love, you pierce me to the heart! Must I call this gentleman out?”

  Serena feigned surprise. “Oh, Neddie, are you here?” she cooed. “I vow, I had quite given you up.”

  Ned struck a dramatic pose. “Could you doubt that I would find a way to your side?”

  The snuff-taking gentleman groaned, and the others laughed good-naturedly.

  “Oh, now that Montague is here, we may as well take ourselves off!”

  “Farewell, fair Cruelty!”

  Serena cried out against this. “No, how can you think of going? It is only Ned, after all!”

  Mr. Montague stared at her with pained surprise, placing one hand on his heart. “Only Ned! But, Serena, what do you want with these other gentlemen? Trust me, love, it is ‘only Ned’ you want—‘only Ned,’ and no other!”

  Caitlin saw the meaningful glances the other gentlemen exchanged while Ned bowed deeply over Serena’s hand, and blushed for her friend. Serena’s name would indeed be bandied about the clubs! How provoking of Mr. Montague! Had he not just promised he would be careful? He straightened, laughing, and Caitlin threw him a reproachful look. She quickly found that his fun-loving nature could not resist rising to this bait.

  “Now here is Miss Campbell looking askance at me!” he exclaimed, covering her with confusion. “What have I done to earn her disapproval, I wonder? Don’t poker up, Miss Campbell, I beg of you! I am such a tender-hearted fellow, you know, I cannot bear to be in anyone’s black books.”

  Serena looked at her friend, half-laughing, half-anxious. “I am sure Caitlin will forgive you anything, Ned, if you are only kind to me!”

  He squeezed Serena’s hand. “Then I have nothing to fear,” he said gallantly.

  “And what of our black books, Montague? You will soon find yourself there!” cried one of the gentlemen.

  “Yes, old chap!” said another. “We wish you will go find something else to do; you are very much in the way.”

  “Hear, hear!” cried the snuff-taker.

  Mr. Montague rolled his eyes heavenward. “If I go, you will begin scraping snuff off Serena’s wrist again with that great beak of yours, Crawley. And really, I must reserve that privilege entirely to myself.” He pulled Serena’s hand into his chest and bent, softly trailing his lips up the inside of her arm until she snatched her hand away, blushing fierily.

  “Really, Ned, how can you?” gasped Serena breathlessly. “You know you don’t take snuff!”

  There was a general shout of laughter. Caitlin finished her second glass of champagne and wondered when she would start to feel better. She decided it was a mistake to surround herself with so much merriment. The more flirtation she witnessed, the more morose she would feel. She set her empty glass carefully on
a nearby table, took another, and began to look around the room for an escape.

  Serena cast an anxious look at Caitlin and turned up her nose at the assembled men. “I vow, I’ll have no more to do with any of you! Come, Caitlin, let us withdraw.”

  Caitlin was glad to join Serena in bowing to her swains and heading toward the garden door. They had not gone far, however, when Mr. Montague stepped neatly between the two girls and tucked a hand in each elbow. “I hope you ladies don’t mean to step onto the terrace without a gentleman in attendance?”

  Serena frowned crossly at him. “That is exactly what we mean to do, Ned. I know you are only trying to help me, but I think you’ve done enough for one night. Pray consider your end of the bargain upheld! You may now go and amuse yourself as you please.”

  Ned shook his head gravely and assumed a fatherly air. “My dear Serena, I fear you do not understand the complexity of the task you have set me. Convincing the ton that you care nothing for Captain Talgarth is a tall order, you know. He is such a pattern-card! But I have some experience with these little affaires, and I believe we will succeed—eventually. However, you really must be guided by me on this. You must place yourself entirely in my hands. We cannot hope to squelch the gossip in a single evening, or even two. We must persevere, Serena. We must continue to pursue one another—diligently!”

  As the threesome stepped from the brightly lit rooms onto the cool darkness of the terrace, Serena sighed. “I had no notion it would be so exhausting.”

  Ned abandoned his lecturing mode and grinned down at her. “Confess, Serena! You are enjoying yourself hugely.”

  Serena giggled, giving a little skip that made her curls bounce. “Well—some of it is very agreeable!” she admitted. “But I must say, Ned, the things you do can be a bit shocking. It’s all very well to take snuff from a lady’s wrist, but when there is no snuff there to be taken—and you know, Ned, you—you went rather farther than my wrist—”

  “Beyond the line!” said Caitlin severely. “And you promised me you would take care!”

  “So I did!” agreed Mr. Montague promptly. “But it’s my belief we were doing famously until Serena blushed. Pity! Thing is, Serena ain’t a woman of the world.”

  “She soon will be, if you make her name a byword!” said Caitlin tartly. She stopped, appalled at the raciness of her own remark. An unfamiliar recklessness was stealing over her. The champagne! she realized. Oh, dear!

  Serena, meanwhile, was moved to protest. “I never blush, Ned! It’s just that you took me by surprise.”

  An idea appeared to seize Mr. Montague. “You know, Serena, I am persuaded we ought to practice a little by ourselves. If we agree in advance exactly what we shall do and what we shall not, nothing can take you by surprise.”

  Caitlin regarded Mr. Montague with raised eyebrows. His expression was all innocence, but mischief danced in his eyes. She began to think this entire scenario had been carefully planned by him. The rogue!

  Serena looked up at Ned trustingly. “Do you think a rehearsal would help?”

  “By all means!” he assured her. “Let us go into the garden and begin.”

  Caitlin choked. “Mr. Montague, your conduct is quite shameless!”

  Serena opened her eyes at her friend. “But, Caitlin, it strikes me as a perfectly sensible suggestion. Only think if Ned were to spring another such scene on me without warning! I am not used to encouraging that sort of conduct. If I am not expecting it I will pull away again, you know, and eventually our tale will be told. I think a rehearsal would be most helpful.”

  Caitlin tried to keep her countenance severe, and failed. She burst out laughing. “You are both impossible! If you are going off into the shrubbery to practice taking liberties with each other, I shall accompany you—and critique the effect.”

  “Excellent!” cried Serena happily, but turned to catch Mr. Montague trying to frown Caitlin down. “What is wrong?” she demanded. “Caitlin can be of great use to us, Ned. After all, the effect is the main thing we are trying to achieve.”

  “It’s not the main thing I am trying to achieve!” muttered Mr. Montague, but no one paid any heed to this remark.

  Caitlin was still laughing. “Come, Mr. Montague, what objection can you have?”

  He threw her a fulminating glance, but inspiration struck. “The whole point of rehearsing is that we aren’t ready for an audience!” he declared.

  “Oh, very good!” cried Caitlin appreciatively. Mr. Montague bowed, his eyes alight with laughter. As he did so, he whispered for Caitlin’s ears alone: “Spoilsport!”

  Serena was surveying the garden with a dissatisfied frown. “Our garden in Town is too small. I wish we were at Selcroft. These paths are too narrow for three persons.”

  “Quite right! What a pity! Well, there’s no help for it. Miss Campbell must return to the drawing room, and we two shall stay out here and hone our skills. We will call her as soon as we are ready to demonstrate for a third person, and she may watch us from the terrace.”

  “To critique your performance?” Caitlin inquired.

  “To applaud!” he corrected with an impish grin.

  Serena was perplexed. “But I don’t wish to abandon Caitlin. Can we not find another person to walk with her?” Her eyes lit up. “Here comes my brother! Now we may be comfortable.”

  Caitlin turned so swiftly she almost staggered. Lord Kilverton was standing at the terrace doors, his tall form silhouetted against the light. He was alone. Something like panic surged through her. She turned back to her friends and took a deep breath.

  “If Lord Kilverton will be so kind as to walk with you, Serena, I will take Mr. Montague’s arm—”

  “Walk in the garden with my own brother?” interrupted Serena, staring at Caitlin in astonishment. “I would never dream of doing anything so—so Gothic!” She ran lightly down the terrace steps onto the lawn.

  Caitlin could think of nothing to say, and felt remarkably foolish. Mr. Montague bowed briefly over her hand.

  “Be comforted, Miss Campbell. Serena will come to no harm under my care,” he said softly. “In fact, it is I who am in danger.” He smiled a little ruefully at her startled expression, and departed after Serena.

  Chapter XVIII

  Caitlin watched them disappear down the path together, wondering if she had understood Mr. Montague correctly. Did he believe himself to be falling in love with Serena? Even worse: had he, perhaps, been in love with Serena all along? Pity tugged at her heart. If this were true, she could imagine few fates more horrible than poor Ned’s. She tried to imagine how she would feel, if her beloved asked her to flirt with him to mask his feelings for someone else. She shuddered.

  “What a strange business it is,” she whispered.

  “What is?” came a quiet voice at her elbow.

  “Love,” she replied, without thinking. She looked up. Her last word seemed to echo in the silence. Richard Kilverton was standing so close to her they almost touched.

  “Yes,” he said unsteadily. “A most mysterious business.”

  The air surrounding them was instantly charged with tension. Caitlin felt she couldn’t bear it. If anyone else came out onto the terrace, her emotions would be in her face for all to read. She dared not speak. She turned blindly and walked away from him, away from the windows, away from the light. The terrace ran the entire length of the building. She thought if she could cross into the darkness she would not feel so vulnerable, so exposed. The moonlight, however, still poured down, and Kilverton followed her. There was no escape. He, at least, would know how she felt.

  She stopped, leaning weakly against the cool stone of the Selcroft mansion. Lord Kilverton stood before her, his expression changed to one of concern.

  “Are you quite well, Miss Campbell?”

  She nodded, still unable to speak. He took the champagne glass from her nerveless hand and held it to her lips. “Drink this,” he commanded softly.

  Overcome by his closeness, she raised one hand t
o steady the glass, and sipped cautiously. The constriction in her throat loosened. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered. She sipped again. Both their hands were trembling, and the glass chattered against her teeth.

  He turned abruptly, walked over to the balustrade, and set the glass down upon it. He then stood for a moment with his back to her. She watched him take a deep breath and square his shoulders, and knew he was trying to get a grip on his emotions. He would not look at her again until he had succeeded.

  She suddenly realized that she did not want him to succeed. A strange, exhilarating rashness swept through her. The champagne tingled on her lips. She remembered how miserable she had felt that morning, thinking she could never have more of him than a paltry waltz or two, and her hands clenched into fists. This might be the last time she would ever be alone with him. Tonight might be the last time she saw him before he married Lady Elizabeth and was lost to her forever. And he was going to try to be civilized! No, she did not want him to succeed!

  He was turning back to face her again, and this new, savage part of her rejoiced to see that he had failed to master himself. His tormented expression made her shake with love and longing. She felt she would give all she possessed to have the right to comfort him.

  Kilverton crossed to her and took her hand. He spoke with a valiant attempt at lightness, but was unable to meet her eyes. He looked, instead, at her hand in his. “Miss Campbell, I—I fear my sentiments cannot be unknown to you.” He swallowed painfully. “Forgive me. It was never my intention to—to embarrass you, or put you in a position of—of—”

  Embarrass her! Did he think she was embarrassed? Among all the emotions swamping her senses, how absurd to single that one out! The instant he brought it to her attention, she banished it. There was no room in her heart for embarrassment; not with everything else she was feeling. Not tonight. This was the only moment she would have, and she wanted it filled with a memory she could hold close through the lonely years that loomed ahead. The sweet new recklessness seized her; the champagne sang in her veins. A queer little laugh escaped her.