Seeking Celeste Read online

  He sensed her movement, for his arms suddenly became entangled in hers; then his fingers were about her waist with his face, inscrutably, in her long, untrammelled hair. He kissed her lightly, lingeringly, then watched the candle finally extinguish in her hand.

  “It is late. Or rather, it is early. If you do not wish to be wholly compromised, Miss Derringer, you had best return to your quarters. It will not do for you to be ... bother! ”

  “What is it?”

  “Hush!”

  Anne heard it clearly. The door to the library was opening. She, like the earl, felt sick. If she were to be found with him at this time, she would be ruined. She wrapped the gown tightly about her as if the flimsy thing would afford her protection. It would not. Nothing could, and in that split instant, they both knew it.

  Robert pushed her against the rails once more. This time, though his muscles were taut with tension, it had little to do with desire. She felt his urgency, however, and obediently retreated.

  “Stay here!” The words were more gestured than spoken, but Anne understood. Her whole life depended upon it, for what possible use either as companion or governess could a fallen woman ever be? None at all. She thought this calmly, rather than hysterically as might, perhaps, have been expected.

  It was almost in a detached manner that she watched the handsome lines of Robert’s back retreat into the house. Who could be entering the library at that hour? An overzealous housemaid? Surely not one of the hoards of houseguests that seemed suddenly to have descended upon them?

  But yes! It was a woman’s voice. Most likely the Lady Caroline of whom Kitty spoke, for insofar as Anne was aware, she was the only woman to make up the hunting party.

  “Robert, darling! I have searched for you simply everywhere! ”

  Anne felt sick. The simpering intimacy of the tone could not be mistaken.

  She could not hear Lord Carmichael’s reply, for it was in very low tones that he spoke. Anne despised the compromising position she was in. It seemed hardly fair to be so imminently on the brink of scandal. She and the earl had wasted such a great deal of time engaged in the virtuous task of resisting each other’s charms.

  Now she was forced into the untenable position of eavesdropper, and she squirmed at the very thought. Especially when she caught sight of Lady Caroline through the glass. She was a picture of glorious curls piled high, golden like Robert and ravishingly beautiful. Anne could not see much, for the woman’s back was turned to the window, but she could see that the creamy flesh of her shoulders was displayed bounteously in a bodice that was both strapless and fashionably low cut at the back. My lady’s evening gown was obviously of the first stare, for Anne fleetingly noted that it was spangled in gold and edged in a floss silk that shimmered as Lady Caroline moved. Although Miss Derringer could not make out the full elegance of her form, she had no doubt that the low, rounded cut of the gown would set off the stranger’s features to perfection. Lady Caroline was obviously blessed with a beguilingly feminine form, something that Anne had not previously too keenly felt the lack of. Now, with her statuesque height and slender waist, she felt rather like a waif than the desirable siren Lady Caroline appeared to be.

  She closed her eyes as the lady flagrantly disobeyed propriety and began playing intimately with his lordship’s shirt ruffles. Anne felt hot from shock and shame. How wicked of her to have been entertaining wanton desires! Clearly, Robert was meant for another. Lady Caroline would not have been so forward if she was unsure of her welcome. Surely, too, she would not have searched for Robert anywhere at that hour unless they had an understanding. How could she have been so blind? And the children? Their reactions should have told her that Lady Caroline was more than a passing guest. Their dislike had been palpable.

  Oh, what a coil! Should she come out and declare herself? Anne thought not. Apart from her own ruin, it would bring shame on Lord Edgemere and hurt the innocent victim in all this, Lady Caroline. No, it would be her penance to wait patiently on the balcony and pray for a swift escape.

  “Caroline, I thought I made my intentions clear!”

  “Indeed you did, Robert! You promised to marry me and marry me you shall!”

  “I was in my cups, Lady Dashford, and well you know it!”

  “What odds? You offered and I accepted. That is all there is to it.”

  “I offered after you’d plied me with enough blue ruin and cherry brandy to sink a galleon!”

  “Let us not quibble, Robert. You shall have your freedom when we are married, and before that... well, you shall have your usual rewards.”

  The words were hideously intimate, and Anne felt routed to the spot. So! Lady Caroline was no victim! The thought simultaneously heartened and sickened her. Whatever she was, she was cunning and vile, and Lord Carmichael had bedded her. Would he try to do the same with her? Anne shivered.

  “I do not want your favours, Lady Caroline! You were spoiled goods before ever I touched you and you know it! By God, if I hadn’t been such an innocent little greenhorn at the time...”

  “But you were, weren’t you, Robert?”

  The voice was honey sweet, but Anne recoiled at the undercurrents.

  “Yes, more is the pity! But I shall not pay forever for that sin, Caroline! I agreed to marry you out of compassion, but I have learned, recently, that compassion is not a good enough bedfellow for marriage.”

  “And what is?” The words grated harshly on Anne’s untrained ears.

  “Respect, boundless admiration, passion—and yes, dammit, love is the proper basis for the wedded state!”

  “Oh stop reading penny novels, Robert! You may be experienced with women, but you and I both know such talk is for sapheads!”

  “Perhaps I shall surprise you, Caroline!”

  “Do whatever you like so long as the Carmichael ruby is on my finger.”

  Anne had to stop herself from gasping. The woman was as cold as the ice maiden she had always been accused of!

  The Earl of Edgemere sighed. “I am ringing the bell, Caroline. A servant should be here within three minutes. If you wish to preserve your reputation, you will be gone by then.”

  Caroline laughed. “Don’t be such a goose, Robert! It is all the same to me. If you compromise me, we shall have to be married.”

  “By God you are callous! I shall call your bluff, ma’am, and then you shall be in the suds.”

  Anne knew a crazy moment of wishing to step into the fray and declare her claims on the earl. He could not, surely, be forced to marry two women whose reputations had been ruined by spending the night with him! She resisted the impulse, however, for she was a sensible person and not given to histrionic outbursts. Besides, embroiling Lord Carmichael in a further distasteful scene was not to her liking.

  “Caroline, listen to me! I have no intention of making you my countess. You may, however, have free rein of this place in my absence—as you always do. Further, I shall make you an allowance. I am trying to be both gen-. erous and fair. Though it was not I who ruined or deflowered you, I did take advantage of your bounteous charms. I am willing to pay for that youthful mistake, but it would be wise, I suggest, not to ask more than I can give.”

  There was a faint silence as Caroline looked at him speculatively. Anne could not divine her expression, for her face was turned in profile. Lord Carmichael’s handsome, aquiline features appeared impassive. Anne’s eyes, accustomed to the dark, fancied they could detect a small pulse throbbing in his neck. It may, however, have been a trick of the shadows and flickering dawn candlelight.

  “Shall I have the diamond necklace at Christopher’s?”

  “Tomorrow, if it will make you cease with this nonsense!”

  “Very well, Lord Edgemere, you may rest easy. I shall leave you to your lackey and your port and whatever else you do in here. What is that strange-fangled thing in the cabinet? It looks at odds with the decor in the room. If I were you, I would have it removed.”

  She placed a leisurely kiss on Lord
Carmichael’s lips. Though he did not respond, she appeared satisfied with her night’s work, for she laughed.

  “Robert?”

  “Yes, Lady Dashford?”

  “So formal? For shame! I am glad you call my charms... uh ... bounteous.”

  She kissed her fingers mockingly and finally—finally—made an exit There was a moment’s acute and dreadfully embarrassing silence. Robert waited until he was certain there would be no further interruptions. Anne, now shivering, whether with cold or from a multitude of unspoken emotions, remained motionless outside. She did not move until the curtains parted and she was led, gently, into the warmth.

  “Miss Derringer!”

  She noted his use of her proper title with misgiving allied with respect. There would be no more “Celeste” and improper but rather comforting “Anne.” From now on, she would be plain “Miss Derringer.” It was as it should be, but still, there felt a dreadful void in her heart that somehow words could not fill.

  “Say nothing, Lord Carmichael. I think enough has been said for one evening. The sun is rising and I really should not be in this wing. Should never have been. For my part, I apologize.”

  “Do not apologize for something you know is not wrong.”

  “Do I?” Anne shook her head sadly. “I wish I did.”

  “Will you not hear me out?”

  “Not now, Lord Edgemere. You owe me neither apology nor explanation. Tomorrow you shall be in London purchasing jewels, and I shall resume my life as usual.”

  “Purchasing jewels?” Robert looked bewildered. Anne was silent.

  “Oh! The diamonds for that... that... Miss Derringer, can you not believe that any feelings I may have harboured for Lady Caroline were extinguished a long time ago?”

  “I believe it, Lord Carmichael. What I do not believe is that it is any of my business. We are worlds apart, and if it is not Lady Caroline you are betrothed to, it shall be another. That is the way.”

  “What if the other has raven’s hair and ravishing eyes of tourmaline green?”

  “I would say it was a remarkable coincidence but nothing more.”

  “Come, come, Miss Derringer! You know there is nobody on this earth but yourself of whom I can possibly be speaking. Your combination is quite unique.”

  “Then you either have a sadly flattering tongue, or your wits are wandering!”

  “Do you not imagine you are beautiful?”

  “Hardly so, but we digress from the point!” Anne waved her hand impatiently.

  “That being?”

  “That being that whichever lady you choose to share your life with, it cannot be me.”

  “Perhaps I am obtuse. I thought we were discussing the finer points of precisely the opposite.”

  “Are you proposing, Lord Carmichael?”

  “No, but ...”

  “Precisely. Now, if I may venture past you? I should hate, after all this, to be discovered by your lackey.”

  “Anne ...”

  “Good night, your lordship.”

  “Stay a bit. We have much to speak of, and I shall behave, I promise you, quite impeccably.”

  He was so serious and so contrite that Anne felt her firm resolve wavering. He was dressed, even at that hour, quite faultlessly in a ruby frock coat with brass buttons. His waistcoat, severely cut and trimmed only with the veriest hint of darker ribbon, was matched by a pair of breeches that only the most daring—or foolhardy—of men would have the audacity to effect. My lord, however, needed have no qualms. The skin-tight unmentionables were breathtaking to behold, for the eighth Earl Edgemere had the felicity of a perfect, positively indecently unsettling physique. The ensemble was set off by a pair of topboots artfully folded down mid-calf, which, intentionally or not, only accentuated the muscled thighs above.

  This, ultimately, was his undoing, for he was too handsome. Far too masculine for Anne’s disordered sensibilities to tolerate with any degree of equanimity. “Do not ask that of me, Lord Carmichael! You may behave, but I am sadly lost to all propriety! Since I have no burning desire to lose either my virtue or my self-restraint at this early hour, I shall bid you, finally, farewell.”

  Robert bowed silently. He could not speak, though Anne was entrancing and he wished, so much, so much, to take her in his arms and kiss away her cares. But she was not ready for it, and he ... he had some business to attend to.

  “You shall remain at Carmichael Crescent?”

  “As long as the children need me and you stay as far away in London as possible.”

  “What if I can’t stay away?”

  Anne smiled regretfully. Then, my lord, I shall resign my post as governess.”

  Robert stared at her hard. “You’d do that?”

  “I’d do that.”

  For an instant, their eyes met, and Anne felt his stare burning into hers like charcoal embers from a blazing fire. He touched her lute string sleeve lightly, but it was as if she had been burned. Robert must have felt the same, for he recoiled almost instantly and retrieved his gloves from the table.

  “Go, then. It is nearly light.”

  Anne nodded and opened the door. The vast corridors loomed ahead. It was a long way to traverse in flimsy slippers of Oriental satin. She was, she knew, lamentably and most indecorously clad.

  For a moment, the twinkle reappeared in the earl’s lazy, hazel eyes.

  “I should have bought you the half boots as I promised!”

  “And have me tramp thunderously along your elegant parquet flooring? Another time, I thank you.”

  “I shall deem that as a promise!”

  Anne made no comment, though her humour was somewhat restored. His voice softened gently.

  “Shall you manage, sweet Celeste?”

  She bit back a sudden, troublesome tear and nodded. It was the least she could do.

  Ten

  Lord Carmichael left early that morning, too early, in fact, to properly greet the guests that had so unexpectedly arrived the previous day. Anne had no time to feel the pangs she anticipated, for the house was buzzing with activity and several of the men had already cantered off in the direction of Lord Anchorford’s. Mrs. Tibbet, to Anne’s complete astonishment, was in her element.

  “Oh, Miss Anne,” she said, eyes shining, “I do so love to have regular menus to plan and the fine china taken out and the silver to shine...”

  It seemed that Lord Edgemere had not exaggerated when he had stated that the land agent had orders to finance such impromptu parties. No expense was spared in hiring extra milk, parlour and scullery maids. Even the stables were not forgotten, with additional grooms, coachmen and ostlers being rustled up for the occasion.

  An inspection of the larder revealed an interesting array of brandied fruits, jellied custards, fresh-picked strawberries and clotted cream in large containers. Hanging from the tiled ceiling were various meats—Anne thought she detected a venison, a selection of pheasant, several sides of beef and some cured ham and bacon. On the slate shelves stood cheeses of varying descriptions. Double Gloucester, Port du Salut, York cream, Cheshire, Stilton and what looked like an enormous cheddar loaf. She was much struck by the mingling of aromas—all pleasant—that whet her appetite and fixed her interest in the large breads that were baking in the kitchens.

  Two scullery maids were up to their elbows in flour whilst several of the lower housemaids had been seconded to strain the liquor of oysters for the buttered lobster sauce. A few unfortunates were tammying endlessly for anything from gravy for the gravy boat to a delicate negus composed of water, orange juice and sugar, into which was skillfully added perfumed cakes and several drops of rose water.

  Anne felt both slothful and aghast. “It is a miracle, Mrs. Tibbet! How in the heavens have you managed so quickly?”

  “Got the gardeners up at the crack of dawn, I did! Been picking strawberries and grapes and what have you from the hothouses. The rest of us ... we been workin’ all night, we have.”

  “All night?” Anne could n
ot help colouring, for if all the staff had been up at that hour, she had had a lucky escape, indeed.

  Mrs. Tibbet looked at her keenly. “Don’t like to criticise, me luv, but you have those nasty dark circles under yer eyes this morning. How ‘bout you be givin’ those wee rascals a break and takin’ a nap?”

  It was a mark of the exceptional accord that had sprung up between the two women that the housekeeper felt she could talk so comfortably with a “lady of quality.” For, as she told her intimates, “If that there Miss Derringer ain’t a lady born and bred,” she would “eat me best cotton shift and to hang with the consequences.”

  Anne laughed. “Good gracious, no! Desert the ranks before the first battle? Never! The children shall have a valuable lesson in household husbandry this morning. Kitty can air the sheets, and Tom can help remove the holland covers from all the furniture in the north wing.”

  “Miss Anne!” Mrs. Tibbet was shocked. “That be no work for gentry folk! The master ...”

  “Will approve heartily, I am certain!”

  There was a moment’s hesitation as Mrs. Tibbet fleetingly wondered whether the governess had run mad. Then, as if some new thought had occurred to her, she looked sharply at the deluded Miss Derringer. The scrutiny lasted some half minute, so Anne was singularly inclined to either laugh or protest, but she did neither. At last, shrewd grey eyes met fine green ones.

  “Aye.” Mrs. Tibbet nodded. “So that’s the way the wind blows. Reckon as not you know the master’s mind better than all of us. Let the children dust and sweep.”

  Anne did not know whether to be relieved or distinctly nervous. Since there was now a quite definite commotion above stairs and the bells seemed incessantly to be ringing, she decided not to waste further time on the matter. She afforded the housekeeper a gentle, if somewhat harassed, smile, then proceeded upstairs to face whatever might await.

  The breakfast room was abuzz with faces. For the most part, Anne did not recognize the guests, though one or two stood out in her memory from the seasons she had suffered through in London. Her hand quivered a little on the doorjamb; then remembering both her breeding and her newly acquired demotion to the ranks of upper. servant, she held her head aloft and curtsied quietly but politely to the room in general.