‘God knows I can sympathise with that.’
Allegra was well aware that she had not yet answered him. ‘May I have some time to think, sir? I… I don’t know what I should say to you.’ She’d never liked him better than she did just now, though she might pause to wonder why a man in his difficult situation could not be a little more tolerant of others who were also in some respects pariahs, like Mr Severin. But she did not know if mere liking could ever be enough.
And she could not – she really could not, she found – so much as hint at the idea that she might wish to be free one day to take a lover, once her responsibilities to him were discharged,assuming they ever were. Now that she knew the truth, she thought he might say yes, he would be obliged in common justice to give her that freedom. He didn’t seem like a bully or a tyrant, though he might reveal those disagreeable qualities if he ever knew the identity of her lover, a man he already disliked and looked on with most disagreeable prejudice. But was that clandestine existence any way to live? She could see that Lord Milton had no other option – but that did not mean she should choose such a life willingly for herself. It was not the prospect of scandal she feared – it was the loneliness. Her situation would be little better than Viola’s.
Her suitor smiled wryly. ‘Of course you must take all the time you need. I am glad I have told you the truth, whatever comes of it. Thank you for listening. And for even considering my offer. I know it isn’t what you might have hoped for.’
‘Nor you.’
He stood, as did she, and took her hand, bending over it to kiss it with his usual languid grace. ‘Life is like that, I have found. We must play the hands we are dealt. I don’t suppose Winterflood was all your sister ever dreamed of, either.’
‘No. And since we are sharing secrets, I may tell you that she is by no means happy in his company. He’s older than our father, they have nothing in common but the children, and he has not always treated her well. She warned me straitly to be cautious when it came to choosing between suitors.’
‘And so you should be. I am sorry I cannot offer you all you deserve, Allegra. But at least I have not stooped to lie to you. I will give you as long as you need to make up your mind; it would be grossly unfair to do anything else.’
And with that he took his leave, and she stood staring after him, long after the door had closed.
23
Allegra was in great turmoil of mind. As soon as Lord Milton left the house, her sisters poured into the room, questions trembling on their lips, followed more sedately by her mother, who was just as curious but better at concealing it. But something in her face must have warned them that she was in an uncertain mood; the girls were much less exuberant than they had been a half-hour previously, and even Mrs Constantine did not press her, for a wonder, after she said, ‘Yes, he has offered for me. This can be no surprise to any of you. I have not given him an answer, but instead asked for time to think, which he has granted me – I suppose he had no option. To insist on an immediate answer would have been uncivil, and I’d have said no if he had. Now I honestly don’t know what I’m going to say to him, so there’s no point asking me.’ She retreated to her chamber then, and nobody came after her.
It wasn’t her mother’s way to force such momentous decisions on her daughters. But then Sabrina hadn’t needed to be compelled, and Viola, from what she recalled from four years ago, had agreed to His Grace of Winterflood’s very flattering offerwithout having to be pressed in the least. She’d known how precarious their futures were, and what a difference having a duke in the family would make to all of them. Now, of course, matters were slightly easier, because of that sacrifice, but only slightly. Leontina must believe with some justice that she could rely on cold, hard facts to do her work for her. All the reasons why a young woman with no fortune of her own and no security in her life really should accept a man like Lord Milton remained as powerful as ever.
But… The success or failure of a marriage, if one could even use such terms, could never be predicted. Viola’s existence did not stand on shaky foundations just because the Duke had married her for the heir he’d hoped she could give him – this was common enough, after all – but also, and more painfully, because he had not taken the trouble to be kind to her in those first crucial months of their relationship. Lord Milton had promised honesty – but she was not sure anyone could promise kindness, or if one should trust them if they did. And if a woman had toaskfor gentle, considerate treatment, it was already too late. Edward respected Viola more, she believed, now he’d got what he wanted, but something had been broken between them that seemed unmendable.
She might tell herself that she was fully aware, as Viola had not been, of the difficulties that would lie in her path if she took this man as her husband: his highly disagreeable mother, his lack of genuine interest in her. Some such problems were predictable. His attitude to her was not – not entirely, despite all he’d said to her. But there was also her own desperate need formorethan he could ever give her. She wasn’t sure that being prepared in advance for that sort of disappointment would make it any easier to bear for a whole life. A life without passion, with a man who had a mild liking for her and no more.
And this thought led her, inevitably, back to Mr Severin. He had said just a short while ago that he hadn’t even stopped to think about whether he liked her or not, but still they shared – there was no use denying it – a stronger, deeper and stranger connection than she could ever know with Lord Milton, if they lived together for forty years and had a quiverful of children.
She wanted to see him. Max. This wasn’t because another meeting with him would help her make up her mind, because it couldn’t. Her feelings for him should be entirely irrelevant to this dilemma. Maybe she just wanted another taste of passion. It might be her last.
24
Clandestine meetings were hard to arrange, for a woman. Impossible, really. Allegra thought that Mr Severin must surely have more experience of this sort of thing – this would not, after all, be hard – and if she could contrive to share a few words with him, he would know what was to be done. The Season was coming to an end, but there was a ball tonight, one of the last large ones this year, which was likely to be a crowded, chaotic sort of an affair, and if he was there…
Allegra wore a plain white muslin gown that evening, once more covered with the gauzy over-dress. This had been seen too often in its previous guise and was looking rather tired, like many a lady at this stage of the summer, so Mrs Constantine had dyed it dark blue, which might, perhaps, pass it off as an entirely new garment. At this point, its wearer didn’t really care.
There was a great crush of people on entering the house in Grosvenor Square, and on passing through into the ballroom. Bodies were pressed together willy-nilly, feet were stepped on, flounces torn; it was unpleasant, especially in the oppressive summer heat. She could see his tall figure on the other side of theroom, drawing her like iron to a magnet, but it was impossible to reach him, even if she’d been bold enough. Their eyes met, though, and something passed between them. She had to hope that it would be enough.
She stepped out with Lord Milton, who was good enough to confine their conversation to the merest commonplaces, and with Sir Harry, who could talk only of the excessive heat. It seemed to her that the young Baronet’s wooing of her had become a sort of habit with him; he was generally acknowledged as her admirer, and content that it should be so, but he made no further push to engage her interest. Perhaps he did not know how, or perhaps he needed greater encouragement from her than she’d ever been inclined to give him. Or maybe he was cleverer than she gave him credit for, and his choice had lighted on her just because he somehow sensed she’d never pick him, and he could have all the public credit of a hopeless passion while remaining safe from consequences. Maybe it was foolish to think you ever understood people, and what made them act as they did. She was unsettled, tonight, and prey to strange imaginings.
The dance floor was near as crowded as the other spaces, so that she was glad to have no other partners, but to stand aside, fanning herself. Mr Englishby was here, and she felt his unwelcome gaze upon her, but he didn’t speak to her or ask her to dance, for which she was grateful. She could only hope he had turned his attentions elsewhere. She had other worries to contend with now.
A deep voice by her ear murmured, ‘I’m close behind you. Don’t turn round. I’ll move away in a moment. What’s the matter?’
It was an illusion, probably, to feel his breath caressing her bare neck and shiver because of it. ‘I need to see you. Privately,’ she whispered. She had her fan up, as did many ladies in thisheat; nobody could see her mouth, and the loud music of the small orchestra should cover their low speech.
‘Am I to congratulate you on your engagement? I’m not sure we need to meet for that. It’s hardly traditional to celebrate…’
He could still provoke her, despite everything. ‘No. I am not betrothed.’
‘Well then, let me consider…’ A second or two’s silence between them, as the musicians sawed away at their fiddles, and then a soft laugh. ‘I have it.’ He named a fashionable modiste’s shop. ‘You know the place?’
‘Yes. I’ve never been there, but I do.’
‘Meet me there tomorrow at eleven in the forenoon. That’s a reasonable time for a young lady to go shopping, isn’t it? Bring a maid, if you can, rather than your terrifying mother. Just arrive there, and I will do the rest.’
She didn’t much care for the sound of it; he seemed far too practised at this sort of assignation, with a place already prepared. But she wanted to meet him, didn’t she? So she could hardly complain. Before she could make any answer, she could feel that he had gone, and taken much of the room’s energy and colour with him. She was reasonably confident that their brief conversation had gone entirely undetected.
