Defiant Angel (6 page)

Tiffany clapped her hands in glee. "I knew it."

"Is there someone special for you, Tiffany?"

Tiffany rolled her eyes and leaned closer to her aunt. "Oh yes, Aunt, a very special man. Alan Thurston." She looked seriously at Winifred and spoke confidently. "He as much as said he'll ask for me when I return. But Father does not know anything about it."

"Would your father not approve?"

"Heavens no. Alan fits father's mold--lineage, wealth, and title. He will be a marquess someday. It is important I do well here, Aunt, for Alan's sake as well as Father's."

"No doubt more so for Alan's sake than your father's." Winnie smiled.

Tiffany agreed, "Most definitely."

"Is it the man you have a tender for, or his title, dear?"

Tiffany quickly responded. "Alan, of course. The title would only interest Father. I personally think titles are far overrated, begging your pardon, Aunt." Winnie smiled, waving her hand to indicate no offense taken. Tiffany rambled on, "And the dukes, why, they are the worst of the lot! Steeped in their misguided beliefs that they are above all."

Winifred rose, taking Tiffany's hands in her own. "Dear, we will make you a success. Never doubt that. Your Alan will not be disappointed."

Tiffany rose, still holding her aunt's hand. "Do you really think I will be a success?"

"Tiffany, there is no doubt about that, for no one ever disappoints me."

Paris, April 1816

"O
h, Aunt Winnie, she's splendid!" Tiffany exclaimed. She walked over to the black mare, stroking her soft velvet muzzle. Tiffany's eyes, filling with tears of joy, turned to her aunt. "Never have I been given such a birthday gift. I shall always treasure her."

A soft smile touching her lips as she watched her niece lovingly caress the mare, Winnie thought she could not have found a better gift. She had considered the customary pearl choker one usually presented a sixteen-year-old, but Winnie knew Tiffany's passion was not for jewelry. Winnie had been at a loss for a gift for Tiffany's coming out until she struck on the idea of a horse.

"I shall have Franz tack her so I might put her through her paces." Tiffany began to walk away and suddenly stopped, realizing how inconsiderate she was since in a few short hours she would be called upon to make her season's debut. A frown marred her otherwise perfect features as she bit her lip in worry. "How foolish I am, Aunt Winnie. What with all the things left to do for tonight, I'm sure tomorrow will be soon enough to try her."

"Now, now, Tiffany, by all means ride. All the preparations are in hand, and you will only fidget and get in Andre's way."

Andre was the temperamental chef who, since Tiffany's arrival, had to accommodate her repulsion to meat by offering a course of fish with each meal. Tiffany was the "proverbial thorn in his artistic side," and with tonight's preparation, he would not welcome her presence into his "domain."

Tiffany looked questioningly at her aunt. "Are you certain?"

A nod of the graying auburn head was signal enough for Tiffany to jump astride the mare and trot away.

Winifred watched her ride out of sight and smiled thinking how in the past year she'd seen a lovely butterfly emerge from its cocoon. Tonight, she thought, the butterfly would test her fragile wings for flight. Winnie sighed, her mind running over the past year. Ah, her little diamond, though rough, had lost her edges and was now smooth, polished, still sparkling with her special essence. The transformation from the child-woman to the young lady was absolutely startling. The long, coltish legs had matured to long, shapely legs, the straight, lanky body had developed into a tall, curvy, feminine form, and the raven tresses, in spite of the current mode, still fell in soft curls to her slim waist.

Winnie brushed a strand of hair from her face. Smiling crookedly, she recalled how the past year had not all been a bed of roses. The most difficult task was to channel Tiffany's spirit, not break it, and to give her confidence in herself and her femininity. Winifred had been able to succeed in both. Of course, like the fragile butterfly's wings, so, too, was Tiffany's confidence. But she grew more confident and socially graceful as she became a much-sought- after companion. Winnie turned, heading back into the house, thinking she had changed some of Tiffany's perspectives and attitudes save one that Tiffany tenaciously held to: her aversion to titled persons. She had learned to deal with them--for it was her lot in life to be among their ranks--yet it did not alter the fact she snubbed them and prejudged them and actually did to them what she accused them of doing to others!

Winnie stopped before turning the brass handle, speaking aloud, "Well, to be fair to her, I will say that episode with the duke of Tremyaine did not help." Entering the foyer, closing the door behind her, she smiled broadly thinking of the occasion. It was during the time when Winnie was trying to alter Tiffany's attitude toward the titled personage that the duke's riding invitation had come. Tiffany, armed with a new perspective on the ton, readily accepted, telling Winnie the duke was "a cute old man who reminded her of Nathan, the stable hand at Courtland." She innocently accepted his invitation, unaware that the "cute little old man" had an obsession for young women and had set his sights on her. Once they had ridden a distance, the duke had blatantly offered her the power of his title properties and name if she would consider a tete-a-tete. Tiffany had impulsively and foolishly reacted by swatting his aging mount with her crop, causing the horse to lurch forward, nearly sending the duke over its head. After that experience, there was no hope in altering her attitude.

Winnie's thoughts were interrupted by Marie's words. "Your Grace, Andre needs you immediately."

Winnie smiled, knowing how Andre must have the kitchens in a tizzy. She walked with purposeful strides across the foyer to the kitchens, thinking, After tonight, Tiffany will officially be launched into society, and knew for certain the sons of the powerful ton would be in pursuit of her niece. There was no denying her beauty; a man would have to be blind not to notice it, nor her sharp wit and charm. Marriage prospects! Ah yes, those surely will come. Of course, Tiffany had been steadfast in her devotion to her Baron Thurston; nothing, not even a year of maturing, had changed this. Winifred thought it odd that while Tiffany pined and dreamed of this man, not once in the time she'd been in France had she heard from him.

Winnie reached the kitchen door and heard the crash of pans and irate voices that followed. Well, she thought, I will not interfere where her heart is concerned, providing he loves her above all else.

"Shalimar. Isn't that lovely, Alysse?"

"Stop fidgeting, you goose; it's the third time I've tried to get this curl right," scolded Alysse.

"I think the name is beautiful, as lovely as she is, don't you agree?" Tiffany asked, turning to face Alysse.

"Damn! Look what you've done, Tiff." Alysse let out an exasperated sigh.

"Oh, poo, leave it as it is. My hair never does what it should. And anyway, this is all a waste." She opened her arms, indicating her appearance. "I'll never be a success--I'm too tall, my hair is too black, my eyes--" she peered into the mirror "--are not light blue as yours. It's hopeless. I wish it were tomorrow already."

"Tiffany, look at me." Tiffany, with a dejected look, turned to her dear friend.

"Tiffany, you look beautiful, and tonight is your coming out, and you shall be a success. All of Parisian society will be at your feet; you'll not sit out a dance, and your card will be filled before the first waltz."

"Do you really think I am beautiful? Only Alan has ever told me that." Tiffany wrung her hands. "I really do hate this! Presenting myself to the ton, whom I abhor and care not a whit what they think." She stood, anger covering her insecurity. "Why I even need their approval, I'll never know."

"Now, now, Tiffany, we've been through this before. A coming out is to formally introduce you to society. A society you, as well as your baron, I might add, are very much a part of."

Tiffany began to pace frantically back and forth. "Precisely my point, Alysse; I need no introduction to society to present myself.
Hah!
It's more like putting me on the block, like merchandise to be auctioned! I am going to marry Alan and need not be packaged and presented, for I am already spoken for." She stopped her pacing. "Well, almost spoken for."

Alysse watched Tiffany; she never understood Tiffany's lack of confidence. God, she had been the envy of the girls at the academy. So many would not befriend her, for they did not want to compete with her beauty. Alysse knew that even Brian had a tender for Tiffany, which he could not properly declare until she formally came out. She had even overheard Chad talking to one of his rakish friends, saying Tiffany was "exquisite--a nice bit of baggage," whatever that meant.

Alysse walked into Tiffany's path, causing her to stop short. "Now, listen to me, Tiff. All you say may well be true, however, even your baron would not accept you if you did not come out. It is what's done, and do it you shall, if not for yourself, at least for Aunt Winnie. She has a lot at stake here. You are under her roof, and she has graciously extended free rein to your whims and such. Now you must reciprocate and see this through."

"I ... I guess you're right, Alysse, but I don't ever want to be sold,
ever!"

"Aunt Winnie would never do such a thing to you, and anyway, you're not some mare to be sold. You sometimes have the strangest notions."

"No . . . no . . . you're right, Aunt Winnie would never sell me," Tiffany mumbled.

A soft knock on the door caused both girls to turn, seeing Winifred whisk regally into the room dressed in a dazzling emerald green gown gilded with golden threads.

Winifred stopped upon seeing the exquisite picture Tiffany presented. Who would have thought deep violet to be her color? Indeed it was, as would black be when she was old enough to wear it. The gown turned her eyes almost violet, and her dark hair gave a depth to_the violet a lighter-haired girl would have lost. Tiny fresh violets were woven in her coiffure and entwined in the curls that brushed the nape of her graceful neck.

"Dear, you look gorgeous," Winifred exclaimed.

"I told her so." Alysse turned to Tiffany. "Did I not say just that?"

Tiffany smiled, confidence bursting from her.

Winnie pulled her eyes from Tiffany to address Alysse. "Dear, your mother has arrived and required your assistance. She's in the guest room." Alysse went to leave as Winnie called out, "Oh, Alysse, your fiance is here in the library with Chad and Brian."

Alysse stopped brushing down her skirts, and touching her hair. "Do I ... I look . . . ah . . . presentable?"

Tiffany nodded her head, saying, "Definitely so!"

Alysse ran from the room, closing the door behind her.

Tiffany went to her aunt's open arms and kissed her on each cheek. "You know, Aunt Winnie, Alysse adores Kent."

Winifred, smiling, remarked casually, "It is fortunate she does; few arranged marriages have anything more than dowry involved."

"You don't believe the Devonshires would have insisted if Alysse did not love Kent, do you?"

Winifred sat down at a nearby chair; Tiffany accompanied her, sitting on the floor, arranging her skirts neatly. "I doubt, my dear, they would have much choice in the matter. A betrothal is legal and binding, a contract which must be met and fulfilled."

Tiffany shook her head at the words, replying, "How awful for any woman to have to endure such a life."

"Oh, and what about the man, my dear? Does he not also lose?"

Tiffany snapped her head up vehemently. "Lose, hah! I see not how. He prospers with the money and property a woman brings and has the freedom to seek his pleasure where he may find it, while the woman must endure a loveless marriage and life at the beck and call of her husband."

"Well, Tiffany, what of the man and his loveless marriage? Does he not suffer as well?"

"Nay, he is compensated by the dowry, which is what in all likelihood drew him to her. She, on the other hand, must be content to be another possession of his."

Winnie thought it fortunate William never arranged a marriage for Tiffany, for her niece had strong opposition and no doubt would balk. She quickly dismissed these thoughts and spoke. "I brought something for you tonight, dear, something I'd like you to have and wear this evening."

"Oh, Aunt Winnie, you have given me enough," Tiffany said, laying her head in her aunt's lap.

"I insist, my dear." She raised Tiffany's head and extended her closed hand, opening it. Tiffany's eyes beheld the large diamond earbobs.

"Oh, no, Aunt, I couldn't." She looked up, wide eyes pleading. "They are your favorite. You always wear them; why, Uncle Robert--"

Winifred placed a finger on Tiffany's lips. "Yes, dear, but you are the daughter Robert and I always wanted. My daughter would have had these earrings; so shall you."

Gently placing the earbob in the hole in Tiffany's ear, Winifred said "You know, Tiffany, your uncle gave them to me at my first season. They belonged to Queen Elizabeth I. There was a matching diamond necklace." She brushed a tendril aside and began working the earbob on the shell-shaped ear. "The necklace is said to be exquisite teardrop diamonds, each stone linked by fine silver filigree. It's a birthday necklace--a stone to be added each year."

Tiffany listened, mesmerized by the tale. "Whatever happened to it?"

Winifred placed the stud securely behind the post. "A most noble family was given it for its loyalty to the crown." Winifred finished, and Tiffany rushed to her mirror to look at the sparkling earbobs. "They make me look beautiful," she whispered.

"Yes, you are beautiful!" Winnie whispered, tears misting her green eyes.