“No, it cannot.” Effie led the way toward where her sister stood. “Your entire future is at stake and we must be prepared for the worst possible situation. We are walking a tightrope here, Harriet.”
“Really, Aunt Effie. You exaggerate.” But Harriet allowed herself to be dragged to Adelaide’s side. Better to get the consultation over and done so that she could return to her new friends as speedily as possible.
Effie’s sister, Adelaide, Lady Buxton, was an imposing figure of a woman. Unkind people were inclined to call her fat. Effie had explained to Harriet and Felicity that much of Adelaide’s size was directly attributable to the fact that she had consoled herself with sweets during her long, unhappy marriage.
Since Adelaide had emerged from the minimal mourning period she had observed on the recent death of her husband, she had started to lose weight quite rapidly. Tonight she appeared very striking in a vivid purple gown. She watched impatiently as Effie and Harriet approached.
“You have gotten the word, Harriet?” Adelaide spoke in a low tone while giving a charming smile to a lady in a green turban who had nodded in recognition.
“I understand my fiancé is in Town,” Harriet admitted.
“That is just it, my dear. We cannot be certain he is still your fiancé, if you know what I mean. After all, there has been no official announcement. Not a word in the papers. As he has not chosen to announce the engagement publicly, we cannot know his intentions.”
Harriet glanced wistfully at the group of fossil enthusiasts who were waiting for her. She wanted to return to the fascinating conversation as quickly as possible. All this fretting about her engagement to Gideon was beginning to annoy her. Effie and Adelaide had worried about it constantly ever since Effie, Felicity, and Harriet had arrived in Town several days ago.
“I am certain there will be an announcement in good time, Aunt Adelaide. St. Justin has had a great deal to handle lately, what with capturing thieves and worrying about his ailing father. He probably has not had an opportunity yet to send the notices off to the papers.”
Effie gave her a pitying glance. “It defeats me how you can possibly have so much faith in a man who has treated you abominably.”
Harriet lost her patience entirely at that. “St. Justin has not treated me abominably. How can you say that? The man is marrying me because of what happened in that cave.”
“Harriet, please.” Aunt Effie glanced around uneasily. “Keep your voice down.”
Harriet ignored her. “It was not his fault he got caught in there with me. He came in after me in order to rescue me and the poor man got trapped in there.”
“For heaven’s sake, Harriet, do hush.” Adelaide waved her fan in agitation. “I do not know what we shall do if anyone happens to overhear you or gets wind of the fact that you were compromised. Thus far we have been successful in concealing the facts of the matter. Creating an aura of mystery around you, as it were. The least you can do is not announce it to all and sundry.”
“What difference would it make? St. Justin is going to marry me. That will make everything all right in Society’s eyes.”
Effie and Adelaide exchanged a grim look. Then Effie sighed. “None of us can relax until we know for certain St. Justin is going to do the right thing.”
“Rubbish.” Harriet smiled at her worried aunts. “Of course St. Justin will do the right thing. Now, if you will excuse me, I really must return to my friends.”
Adelaide shook her head. “You and your fossils. Run along, my dear. Just remember to be cautious in this matter of your engagement.”
“Yes, Aunt Adelaide,” Harriet said dutifully. Then she plunged into the throng, intent on returning to the small group she had just left.
She was halfway toward her goal when someone stepped into her path. Harriet recognized Bryce Morland at once. He had been appearing at the same balls and soirees as she and Felicity during the past week. He had danced with both of them, but lately, much to everyone’s astonishment, he had begun to show a strong preference for Harriet.
Harriet knew she should be flattered by Morland’s attentions. He was, after all, a strikingly handsome man. Lean and graceful with fine, almost delicate hands, Bryce was a widower in his mid-thirties. He had carefully chiseled, curiously ascetic features, pale, golden hair and gray-blue eyes.
All in all, Harriet had decided, Bryce could have served as a model for a painting of an archangel.
“Miss Pomeroy.” Bryce smiled. “I have been searching the room for you. I pray you will grant me the next dance?”
Harriet stifled a small sigh. Bryce had been very gallant to both her and Felicity at their first few balls. He had made certain they both danced and he had provided introductions to other partners. Effie and Adelaide had been extremely grateful to him. Harriet knew it would be unconscionably rude to refuse him the occasional dance. She supposed she could wait a few more minutes to return to the discussion of igneous rocks.
“Thank you, Mr. Morland.” Harriet summoned up a smile as she allowed him to lead her out onto the crowded floor. “Very kind of you to come looking for me.”
“Not at all.” Bryce swept her into a waltz. “I was doing myself the favor. The night would not be complete if I did not dance with you at least once. You are ravishing in that gown. Utterly irresistible.”
Harriet blushed, still not accustomed to the flowery talk of the dance floor. She knew she was looking her best because Effie and Adelaide had seen to it. The silk of her turquoise ball gown had been chosen to match her eyes. The high-waisted bodice had been cut quite low, much lower than anything she had ever worn before, and she had to resist the temptation to keep yanking it upward. Unfortunately, no one had been able to do much with her hair. It formed a very unfashionable, slightly frizzy halo around her head.
“Really, Mr. Morland, I am very flattered, but you probably ought not to say things like that,” Harriet said primly.
“Because you are said to be engaged to St. Justin? I choose to ignore that.”
“I am not said to be engaged, I am engaged. And it is hardly something one can ignore, Mr. Morland.”
“I still cannot bring myself to believe that you have irrevocably tied yourself to the Beast of Blackthorne Hall,” Bryce said grimly.
Harriet stumbled, shocked to hear the epithet spoken aloud here in London. She knew it was whispered behind her back, but it was the first time anyone had referred to Gideon in such terms in her presence.
A rush of anger brought Harriet to a halt right in the middle of the dance floor, forcing Morland to stop also. Several heads turned in curiosity. Harriet ignored them as she fixed Morland with an icy glare.
“You will not refer to my fiance in those terms again. Do I make myself perfectly clear, Mr. Morland?”
Bryce lowered his golden lashes, half concealing his pale eyes. “Forgive me, Miss Pomeroy. My concern for you got the better of me.”
“You need not be concerned on my behalf, sir. Anything you may have heard about my fiancé is no more than idle gossip.”
“Unfortunately, I fear that is not the case. I am well acquainted with St. Justin, Miss Pomeroy.”
Harriet gazed at him in startled surprise. “You are?”
“Oh, yes. He and I were friends at one time.”
“Friends?”
“Yes. We grew up together in Upper Biddleton. I stood by him at the time of his fiancée’s death. In fact I am the only one who did so. Not that I approved of what he did, you understand. But he was my friend and I do not turn my back on my friends, no matter what they have done. I would still be his friend today, but St. Justin has chosen to ignore me along with everyone else in the Polite World.”
Harriet frowned. “I did not know that, sir.”
Bryce took her back into his arms and resumed dancing. Harriet did not resist. She was very curious now. This was the first person she had met in either Upper Biddleton or London who claimed to be a friend of Gideon’s.
“You say you knew St. Ju
stin several years ago?”
“Yes.” Bryce smiled his angelic smile, eyes mirroring an old regret. “We did everything together at one time. I do not mind telling you we enjoyed ourselves for several Seasons. There were nights when we gambled until dawn and went straight on to a racing meet or a boxing match without bothering to go home to bed. There was nothing we would not try at least once. Then Deirdre Rushton came to town for her Season. And everything changed.”
Harriet bit her lip. “Perhaps we should not discuss this further, sir.”
Bryce smiled with understanding. “God knows I have wished often enough that I could forget what happened that Season. Sometimes I think back to the events, wondering if there was something I could have done to avert the tragedy.”
“You must not blame yourself, Mr. Morland,” Harriet said quickly.
“But I was Gideon’s best friend,” Bryce said. “I knew him better than anyone else. I realized he was reckless and determined to have his own way. And I knew Deirdre was as innocent as she was beautiful. Gideon saw her and wanted her at once.”
Harriet frowned. “They were both from Upper Biddleton. They must have known each other before Deirdre Rushton had her Season.”
“Although they lived in the same village, they had not really spent much time in each other’s company,” Bryce explained. “I had not seen much of her, either. Deirdre was, after all, still in the schoolroom until her father managed a Season for her. And Gideon was older, of course. He was off to school and then to London while Deirdre was growing into womanhood.”
“I have heard she was very lovely,” Harriet said quietly.
“She was. And I will tell you quite truthfully that she was not in love with Gideon. How could she have fallen in love with him?”
“Very easily, I should imagine,” Harriet retorted.
“Nonsense. She was a beautiful creature who was naturally attracted to beauty in others. She once confided to me that she found it almost impossible to look at Gideon’s scarred face. It was all she could do to dance with him when he demanded it.”
“What fustian,” Harriet snapped. “There is nothing offensive about St. Justin’s face. And he dances wonderfully.”
Bryce smiled. “You are very generous, my dear. But the truth is, most people find it quite difficult to look at him. He has had the scar for over ten years, you know.”
“No, I did not know.”
“He got it during a rapier duel.”
Harriet’s eyes widened. “I had not realized.”
“I am one of the few people who know the full story. I told you I was his best friend at the time.”
Harriet tilted her head thoughtfully to one side. “If Deirdre Rushton was so put off by the sight of Gideon—I mean, St. Justin—why did she agree to become engaged to him?”
“For the usual reasons,” Bryce said calmly. “Her father insisted. Deirdre was an obedient daughter and the Reverend Rushton was very anxious for her to marry into such a well-connected family. Had a fancy to see his daughter married to the son of an earl. When Gideon offered marriage, Rushton virtually forced her to accept. It was no secret at the time.”
Harriet remembered what Mrs. Stone had said. Apparently everyone had come to the same conclusion about the reasons behind the engagement. “How awful for Gideon,” Harriet whispered.
Bryce’s eyes warmed with old sorrow. “Perhaps that was why he did what he did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Miss Pomeroy, it is difficult for me to say this, but perhaps you should be on your guard. You have no doubt heard the accusation that St. Justin ravished Deirdre Rush-ton while they were engaged?”
“And abandoned her. Yes, I have heard it and I do not believe it.”
Bryce’s expression was solemn. “It grieves me to point this out to you, but you must be realistic. It is a certainty that Deirdre was taken by force. I can tell you that she would never have given herself to Gideon willingly until it was absolutely necessary. That would have been on her wedding night and not before.”
“I refuse to believe that St. Justin forced himself on his fiancee.” Harriet was appalled. Once again she came to a halt on the dance floor. She pulled herself free from Bryce’s grasp. “That is nothing short of a lie and you, sir, should not repeat it to a soul. I will not listen to any more of this.”
She whirled around and stalked off the floor without waiting for Bryce to escort her. A murmur of intrigued and amused voices followed her. She ignored them as she made her way back to the group of fossil enthusiasts.
Her new friends greeted her warmly and welcomed her quickly back into the conversation. What a relief, Harriet thought, to find herself among people who had something more important to discuss than old gossip.
Oliver, Lord Applegate, an earnest young baron who was three years older than Harriet, smiled at her with undisguised admiration. He had only recently come into his title and at times his efforts to live up to his new role in life caused him to be a bit pompous. But other than that, he was really quite pleasant and Harriet liked him.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Pomeroy.” Applegate moved at once to her side. He held out a glass of lemonade he had procured for her. “You are just in time to help me crush Lady Youngstreet’s arguments. She is trying to convince us all that the deposits of polished blocks of stone and masses of rubble one finds in the foothills of the alpine regions are evidence of the Great Flood.”
“Quite right,” Lady Youngstreet declared forcefully. A large, imposing woman of a certain age, she was a very active collector. She had actually spent some time hunting fossils on the Continent after the war with Napoleon had ended. She never hesitated to remind the other members of that singular fact. “What else, pray tell, except water, great quantities of water, could have moved huge stones and tumbled them about in such an extraordinary fashion?”
Harriet frowned with deep consideration. “I once discussed this point with my father. He mentioned several other possible causes of such gigantic disruption in the earth. There are volcanoes and earthquakes, for example. Even …” she hesitated. “Even ice might have done it.”
The others stared at her in astonishment.
“Ice?” Lady Youngstreet asked, looking suddenly intrigued. “You mean huge slabs of ice such as glaciers?”
“Well, if the glaciers in the mountains were much larger at one time than they are now,” Harriet began carefully, “they might have covered that area. Then they melted and left behind the stones and rubble they had picked up along the way.”
“Utterly ridiculous,” Lord Fry boomed, coming up to join the group. “What nonsense to imagine a sheet of ice covering so much terrain on the Continent.”
Lady Youngstreet smiled at Fry fondly. It was no secret they were paramours. “Quite right, my dear. These young people are always seeking new explanations for what can be answered perfectly well with the old tried and true answers. Did you bring me another glass of champagne?”
“Certainly, my dear. How could I forget?” Fry handed her the glass with a gallant bow.
“Actually,” Harriet said, still thinking carefully, “the problem with the theory of the Great Deluge is that it is difficult to see how the floodwaters could have covered all of the earth at once. Where would they go when they retreated?”
“An excellent point,” Applegate said with the usual enthusiasm he displayed for Harriet’s ideas. “Volcanoes and earthquakes and the like make much more sense. They account for finding marine fossils at the tops of mountains and,” he added with a sly smile, “they account for igneous rocks.”
Harriet nodded seriously. “Such uplifting forces obviously counter the effects of erosion and explain why the earth is not one flat, featureless landscape. However, this business of finding fossils of animals that are very ancient is not easily explained. Why are there no living examples of these animals, I ask you?”
“Because they were all destroyed in the Great Flood,” Lady Youngstreet declared. “P
erfectly obvious. Drowned. Every last one of ’em, poor beggars.” She swallowed the entire contents of her champagne glass.
“Well,” said Harriet, “I’m still not certain—” She broke off abruptly as she realized that no one in the group was paying any attention to her.
Belatedly she realized that a murmur was going through the crowd. All heads were turning toward the elegant staircase at the far end of the ballroom. Harriet followed the glances.
Gideon was poised at the top of the steps, surveying the throng with a disdainful glance. He was dressed in stark black. His white cravat and shirt only served to emphasize the darkness of his evening clothes.
As Harriet watched, his eyes met hers. She could not believe he had actually managed to pick her out of the crowd that jammed the ballroom.
He started down the red-carpeted steps. The coldly arrogant set of his shoulders implied he was either unaware of the expectant curiosity in the faces below him or else that he simply did not care about it.
He was here. Harriet warned herself not to get too excited about that simple fact. Gideon had been bound to show up sooner or later. It did not mean he was panting with eagerness to see her, only that he felt it was his duty to put in an appearance.
The whispered comments followed Gideon through the room like a wave racing toward some distant shore. As he moved forward the crowd parted as if it were a sea. He strode through the glittering throng without looking either to the right or left. He greeted no one. He simply kept moving until he reached Harriet.
“Good evening, my dear,” he said quietly amid a hushed silence. He bowed over her hand. “I trust you saved me a dance?”
“Of course, my lord.” Harriet smiled widely in welcome. She put her fingers on his arm. “But first, do you know my friends?”
Gideon glanced around at the ring of faces behind her. “Some of them.”
“Allow me to introduce the rest.” Harriet ran through the introductions quickly.
“So it is true, then,” Lady Youngstreet demanded with a disapproving expression. “The two of you are engaged?”