Once thought of, a similar deep melancholy seemed all too likely. It would explain why Kynaston neglected his responsibilities, even why he’d been abroad for years. He could have been seeking treatment. Perhaps brandy helped. No wonder his aunt treated his shortcomings so gently, but such a mental affliction was a tragedy beyond anyone’s mending.
Ariana gathered her composure and then went into her room to give Ethel a brisk account of the assembly.
“Shame about Lord Dauntry,” Ethel said.
“Yes,” Ariana agreed, but at the moment she had no space in her mind for such minor disappointments.
•••
Kynaston looked at the closed doorway, drawn to the brandy decanter that would be waiting in a cupboard to his right. It did no lasting good, but it brought temporary relief. Sometimes it even made him feel normal—which was dangerous, especially with Ariana Boxstall around.
She’d be gone tomorrow, and he must be glad of it.
That first encounter, first in recent times. He’d beenso deeply sodden, he’d made lascivious comments. Damnable woman.
She was right about Phyllis, but dull clothes might save her from disaster. She wouldn’t wear pretty frills anyway, and everyone was in black.
But then he remembered Lady Ariana’s black gown and the way the bodice exposed the swell of her lush, creamy bosom. The pagan gold jewelry had declared that she was no conventional woman. The braid on the gown—ah, the golden braid that brought to mind that mummy case and that quizzical face.
Seraphina.
The decanter called from its concealment like a siren, but he left the room, and once he was sure Lady Ariana Boxstall wasn’t hovering anywhere, he went to his room and his sleepless bed.
But he did sleep, until he was woken early by an odd sound. Then he realized it was the harpsichord. His room lay over the music room, and he’d noticed this before—that music played there carried upward, perhaps up the chimney. Generally his aunt held musical events in the afternoons and evenings, when he wasn’t in bed and usually not in the house, which was a blessing.
The player was skilled and the notes precise. Lady Ariana Boxstall, giving a farewell performance?
He’d heard her play eight years ago and admired the skilled precision that seemed at odds with the ill-dressed, awkward girl. Despite her shortcomings, she’d made an impression on him, but a fleeting one. Now she was back, grown into herself....
Thank God she did not sing.
Thank God Lady Ariana Boxstall would soon be gone from that house.
•••
Ariana had suffered a restless night, constantly disturbed by trying to work out what exactly had happened in the library. His touch, his kiss—there’d been something insubstantial about both, as if he’d hoped they weren’t happening.
Why? Because he feared her husband hunt?
Or because he knew there could be nothing lasting between them.
Thank heavens she’d soon be gone from this house.
Even after she’d settled into bed, she’d been tempted to go back down to see what state he was in.
After the clocks struck three, she’d slipped out of her room to look down into the hall. All had been dark. The waiting candle had gone, so he must have come up to bed. She had no idea where his bedroom lay, and if she did, it would be clear madness to invade there.
After that, she had fallen asleep for a while, to suffer disturbing dreams, but none she could remember. She’d woken again at seven in the morning, knowing she could sleep no more. And so she’d gone down to the music room, seeking solace. The harpsichord had no volume control, but she’d hoped no one would hear and be disturbed as she tried to banish disturbing thoughts.
It didn’t entirely work. Later, as she picked at her breakfast in her room, she foolishly wished she weren’t about to leave. He didn’t need her. He had a sister and a loving aunt. All the same, if she were here, she might be able to help. They would certainly meet and she felt all the pain of unfulfilled, insubstantial kisses....
“We’ll need an extra trunk for your new gowns,” Ethel said, and Ariana was grateful for the distraction.
“I’m sure Lady Cawle can lend us one. Go and ask.”
When Ethel had left, Ariana climbed out of bed and forced her mind to other matters.
Boxstall and marriage.
