Conversation was general—which meant Sybil prattled on about the compliments she had lately received until they had left the park and were returning to her house. Then Charles said hesitantly, his eyes fixed on his horses, “I would like to ask your advice, Miss Debenham. I fear my absence from society may have coarsened my sensibilities, and that what I wish to do might be considered offensive. No one has a greater understanding of society than you, and perhaps you will lend me your guidance.”
He looked at her askance. She was quite dramatic in turquoise velvet, with three yellow ostrich plumes and sapphire earrings set in gold. Dashing, but as usual, a bit too much.
Sybil smiled demurely. “I will do anything in my poor power to aid you.”
As he concentrated on controlling his horses in the bustling commercial traffic, Charles said, “Two years ago, before I went to France, I met the most beautiful girl in the world. I hesitated to speak to her because I was sure she did not return my regard. For all the time I lay in the prison in France, I dreamed of her, the memory of her golden hair and blue eyes bringing light into the darkness. I cursed myself for never having offered my heart, wondering if I might have won her had I dared speak.” He glanced out of the comer of his eye, finding Sybil raptly listening.
“When I escaped to England, I swore that I would open my heart to her if by some wondrous chance she was still free. Alas, though she is not yet married, I . . . have been told that her affections are engaged by another man.” He stopped talking and negotiated a tricky turn around a dray unloading tuns of wine.
“Yes?” Sybil prodded.
“I was always taught that a gentleman should not speak to a woman who belongs to another.” He gave her a quick, burning glance. “I am torn between my heart and the code I was raised by. Would it destroy my honor to declare my love, to hope that by some miracle she might return it? Or would she despise me forever?” He pulled the chaise up before the Debenham town house and stepped down, reaching up to assist her out.
Sybil could have shrieked with frustration that the journey was ended. In just a few more moments he would have declared himself! As he delivered her to the door, she said, “Would you join me for tea?”
“Alas, no. I am expected elsewhere.”
She would just have to make the most of the moments left; it would never do to let him go off the boil. Putting one graceful hand on his sleeve, she said in a throbbing voice, “No woman would despise a man for speaking his heart. Indeed, you may find the miracle has occurred and she returns your affections.”
He said eagerly, “Do you really think it is possible?”
“Iknowthat it is,” she purred.
Charles shook his head doubtfully. “It’s so hard to go against the training of one’s boyhood, so . . . ungentlemanly to take advantage behind another man’s back.”
“Faint heart never won fair maiden!” she declaimed, resisting the urge to shake him. “And a woman loves a man who dares to be different, to defy convention in her name.”
Still he hesitated. “My heart cries out to do it, yet I am not sure . . .”
Sybil could have spat with vexation. What would it take to get him up to scratch? “If you knew that the lady was free, would you have those doubts?”
“None whatsoever! I would count that a sign that the heavens favor my suit.”
She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, then decided the game was worth the candle since he had all but declared himself. “Will you call on me tomorrow afternoon at three o’clock? I will have some special news to impart to you. News that may gladden your heart.”
Charles gave her his most brilliant smile, then kissed her hand. “You have given me much to ponder. I will call on you tomorrow.” He looked burningly into her eyes. “I, too, may have something to say of great moment.”
Then the earl was gone in a clatter of wheels on cobblestone. Sybil smiled for the rest of the day, the satisfied expression of a boa that had just swallowed a goat. How fortunate that Kingsley was due back tomorrow. He had sent a note that he would call on her in the late morning if it were convenient. She would be able to wrap everything up very neatly.
The Countess of Radcliffe!
* * *
Alex would not have returned if Admiral Hutchinson had not summoned him since it was a long journey from Plymouth and being in London reminded him of too much he would rather forget. For the last month he had been kept busy from dawn until long after dusk, coercing suppliers to deliver stores to theInvicta, overseeing the installation of the guns, the loading of sails, gunpowder, anchor cables, and the thousand other things required to outfit a ship of war.
In the evenings Alex would check and recheck accounts to ensure that his tendency to scramble figures would not cause him to miss shortages in the supplies. It was really a lieutenant’s work, but he had welcomed it as an opportunity to absorb his mind and exhaust himself to a point where he could sleep.
Even so, he would dream of holding Christa, both of them relaxed and happy, her breathing soft against him. Then, with wrenching suddenness, he would experience again the agonizing moment when she had hurled herself into another man’s arms. Alex would awake desolate with loneliness, with only the prospect of another day of mind-numbing labor to get him out of bed.
He had arrived from Plymouth late the night before and went early to meet with Hutchinson to discuss a schedule for the next several days. To Alex’s surprise, the sea lord asked rather wistfully if Kingsley was sure that he wanted to take up command of theInvictabecause the admiral had missed his assistance.
Alex was pleased with the compliment. Under different circumstances he would have enjoyed working at the Admiralty since he found himself increasingly interested in the behind-the-scenes organization that made the navy function properly. But as events had transpired, he much preferred the sea, and ignored the admiral’s implied offer.
After leaving the Admiralty he made his scheduled call on Sybil Debenham. She and her mother had been involved in a happy orgy of wedding planning and she was to explain what part he would play. Sybil regretted that his imminent sailing would necessitate such a hasty, small wedding before the Season was properly launched, but bravely forged ahead. Based on what she had described at their last meeting, the event was to bear a substantial resemblance to a Roman circus, and he could only be grateful that she did not have more time at her disposal.
Alex was surprised to find her alone in the drawing room; at their other meetings her mother had always been playing propriety. Sybil herself was dressed in a very dark blue dress reminiscent of mourning, with only a triple strand of pearls for adornment, and a tragic droop to her full mouth.
After he made his bow and they were seated, she said with a quaver, “My lord, I fear you find me deeply troubled.”
