“Not yet. Next summer, perhaps. But he will not be a perfect gentleman all that time, or my name is not Suzanne de Savary!”
They laughed together, but under her happiness for her cousin, Christa felt a pang of envy for Suzanne. “He will make you happy, Suzanne?”
“Yes. Henry is a truly good man. And he is proud of me. He thinks I’m very clever! He says our businesses will do well together. I get first choice of his fabrics, he refers customers, and of course I am already one of his best clients.”
Christa gave her cousin a serious look. “Do you miss your old life, Suzanne? The gaiety of Paris, being an aristocrat?”
A firm shake of the head was her reply. “Not at all. It was different for you when you were at the center of everything. You were born for the political salons, the balls. But my branch of the family did not have a fraction of the money that yours did. My dear, foolish husband, Guy, refused to live within our means, and sometimes it was a nightmare of placating creditors, of making sure the children were taken care of. We lived on the fringes of the haut monde, pretending that we belonged in the center. It was exhausting.”
“I didn’t know that,” Christa said with surprise.
“I am glad. That means I was successful at keeping up appearances. But all that is over now. I shall be happier as an honest tradesman’s wife, managing a household, and doing something I am good at.”
The girl who was minding the shop put her head between the curtains and said, “There is a Lady Camwell here with her daughters and two friends. She insists on seeing you personally.”
The cousins’ eyes met in a mirth-filled glance before Suzanne drained her coffee cup and stood. “Christa, here is the package of ribbons and gloves you came for. Be sure to have Miss Annabelle come within the next week for the final fitting of her court dress.”
Christa stood also and smiled as she made her farewell. She was happy for her cousin, but Suzanne’s marriage would certainly affect their future partnership plans. As she made her way through the busy streets, Christa wondered if she herself would be content to marry a draper.If he were like Alex Kingsley, she would be. Her mouth tightened at the unbidden thought; it was impossible to imagine Lord Kingsley as anything other than he was, and that was far above her touch.
* * *
While Christa chatted with her cousin, Annabelle received an unexpected caller. Her heart started beating faster when a footman brought her the card and an exquisite nosegay of late-summer flowers.Sir Edward Loaming, Bart. All summer Annabelle had remembered that meeting with him in the park. He was so handsome, so romantic....
She sighed happily in remembrance before her brow clouded over. Alex had said she was not to let him call. She fingered the card. Surely it would be wrong to refuse to see him without explaining why? Yes, definitely, explaining in person why she could not receive Sir Edward was the most honorable course of action. Her rationalizations firmly in place, Annabelle went down to her visitor.
Sir Edward stood when she entered the drawing room, gazing at her admiringly. Today he was resplendent in a bottle-green jacket and pale yellow inexpressibles, a collection of gold watch fobs and a quizzing glass adorning his elegant person. He executed a faultless bow, then said throatily, “Miss Kingsley, you are even lovelier than my memory of you! Dare I hope that you remember me?”
Annabelle stared at him, a moth to his candle. The adoring youths of the summer had been pleasant companions, but mere boys.Thiswas a mature man, virile and confident. Her memory had not played her false—he reallywasthe handsomest man she had ever seen. The dark curls and profile were reminiscent of one of the more scandalous Greek gods, and those liquid dark eyes were fixed adoringly onher, plain Annabelle Kingsley.
“Sir Edward,” she said falteringly, “it’s a pleasure to see you again, but . . . I fear I will not be able to receive you in the future. My brother has told me not to continue the association.”
Sir Edward’s brow darkened, and only partially for effect. The adored only child of elderly parents, he had been raised to believe that even the best was barely good enough for him. It was a great shock to discover after his parents’ deaths that his inheritance was a mere competence, scarcely adequate to keep a gentleman in clothes, much less in gaming.
For five years, Sir Edward had been on a collision course with disaster as his debts mounted and his heavily encumbered estate was squeezed to the last farthing. Then three years earlier he had found a measure of financial relief when he courted and won favor with the bran-faced daughter of a banker. To the baronet’s delight, before he could persuade her to elope, her disgusted but pragmatic father offered him a substantial amount of money to take his handsome hide out of the heiress’s vicinity. Nobly proclaiming the purity of his love, Sir Edward had taken the money and run.
The experience had provided him with a new source of income, and three more heiresses followed the banker’s daughter. The last time, he and the young lady had actually made it halfway to Gretna Green before the outraged guardian caught up with them. Prior to taking the weeping girl home, the guardian had signed over a substantial amount of money to ensure that no word of the elopement would issue from Sir Edward’s well-chiseled lips.
Details of the affairs did not become known because it was also in Sir Edward’s interest to suppress them. Even so, the baronet’s name had acquired an unfortunate aura of scandal, and it had become well-nigh impossible for him to get near an heiress.
On principle, the baronet would be charming to any young girl who was expensively dressed and inadequately chaperoned, then investigate to see if she were worth pursuing. A democrat in his way, Sir Edward was willing to extort money impartially from both aristocrats and those commoners who indulged in trade. Annabelle Kingsley had passed his tests easily: she was from an extremely wealthy family, she seemed impressionable, she would soon be twenty-one and free to marry whom she chose, and her guardian was an older brother who had been out of the country for years and would not be up to snuff socially.
The situation was ripe for Sir Edward’s exploitation, and it was regrettable that the girl had left town in June. Even more regrettably, he became badly dipped over the summer and was in dire need of new money. Annabelle was his only prospect at the moment, and he daren’t let her slip between his fingers. Wrinkling his brow artistically, he said with a touch of vibrato in his smooth voice, “Oh, the unfairness of it!”
“What is unfair?” Annabelle said uncertainly as she seated herself and gestured for her visitor to do the same.
“That your mind should have been poisoned against me.” Sir Edward carefully picked a chair that showed his noble profile to best advantage.
“My brother didn’t poison my mind, he just said not to see you.” From the tartness of the reply, Sir Edward deduced that the girl didn’t like the implied criticism of her brother, and he adjusted his strategy accordingly.
“It’s not his fault. He has been out of the country for so long. No doubt he made inquiries about me and was told that old tale. Can a man never live down the mistakes of his youth?”
It didn’t occur to Annabelle to wonder at his knowledge of her brother. Intrigued, she asked, “What old tale is that?”
Sir Edward thought rapidly. “It was a duel.” He sighed mournfully, then continued, “A man claimed I had dishonored his wife. It was a foul lie, of course. The lady had merely been in need of friendship because of her husband’s unkindness. But I could not see her name dragged in the mud.”
Her eyes like saucers, Annabelle asked, “What happened?”
Sir Edward shrugged deprecatingly. “The inevitable. The brute was no proof against my swordsmanship. I should have killed him. He rewarded my mercy by spreading slander about me. Lies that I am paying for even now, ten years later.”
