The Conqueror's Dilemma (26 page)

Turning to Mr Brundish, she said
the first thing that came into her head, desperate to alter the direction of
her mind.

‘Are you at all acquainted with
the sea, Mr Brundish?’

He had set down the dish of
asparagus without taking any himself, and at this he turned back to her.

‘Only by association. My brother
is a sailor.’

Tiffany had occasion to regret
her conversational gambit, for Mr Brundish treated her to a catalogue of his
younger brother’s exploits. This adventurous lad, it appeared, had been
parcelled off into the Navy to prevent his getting up to any further larks to
embarrass his family.

It became increasingly difficult
to keep her attention on these related antics, for Tiffany was all the time
conscious of a listening ear across the table. Yet each time she managed to
glance across, the Conqueror appeared wholly engaged with the lady seated
opposite Tiffany, who was laughing immoderately at almost everything he said.

It was some time before she
realised that Melinda, who might have been equally attentive according to her
stated aims with reference to Mr Brundish, was fully engrossed with Hector
Kilbride. So much for love.

She was more relieved than sorry
when at last Lady Altass rose and bowed slightly to Lady Yelverton as the highest
ranking female present, upon which all the ladies began to gather their gloves
and reticules, making ready to leave the table. Tiffany hastily got to her
feet.

‘I have enjoyed our talk, Miss
Felton,’ said Mr Brundish, rising with her. ‘I shall hope to further our
acquaintance in the next few days.’

She managed a smile. ‘You are
very kind. I hope so too.’

Mr Northwick had shifted her
chair to facilitate her leaving the table, and Tiffany moved out. As she turned
to thank him, her eye caught on Will’s broad shoulders. He had his back to her,
and he was leaning down to listen to Lady Yelverton, who had paused to speak to
him.

The earlier events of the day
tumbled back into her mind, and a feeling of cold invaded Tiffany’s breast.

Despite her attempts to banish the Conqueror from her mind,
Tiffany found herself fidgeting in the withdrawing-room, impatient for the
gentlemen to come in. She was forced to indulge in a trifle of conversation
with her hostess, who made it a point to spend a little of her time with each
of the ladies, but she was rather glad Melinda had other duties to occupy her.

‘Tiffany, I do hope you won’t
mind it,’ she had said, darting at Tiffany the moment she had entered the room,
‘but Mama insists I must do as she does and pass among the tabbies before I may
indulge myself with you. Can you find someone to talk with for a while? Or you
might wish to read—there are several volumes of novels in those shelves for
just this purpose. Oh, or
The Ladies’
Monthly Museum
, if you
would prefer it.’

She had pointed to a sturdy
glass-fronted bookcase situated near that corner of the room where Tiffany and
she had sat earlier in the day. Abandoned for the moment, Tiffany strolled over
to the bookcase and pretended to examine the titles within. She glanced from
time to time at the case clock on the mantel above the fireplace, and felt the
time dragging unbearably.

‘Well, that was a diverting
little pantomime you played with Will.’

She turned, flushing, to confront
Ariadne, flying into instant defence.

‘I wish you will not creep up
behind me like that. You made me jump half out of my skin!’

Ariadne, who was looking
charmingly simple in a peach gown that suited well with her chestnut hair, eyed
her with a hint of amusement. ‘What you mean is I startled you by referring to
what you thought had gone unnoticed.’

Tiffany drew a breath. ‘Was it so
obvious? I was quite at sea, and you were so far away, and—and it is not the
first time Will has helped me out over such dilemmas.’

‘I am aware. Moreover, I am
delighted to note he is not as hard-hearted as he would have me believe.’

A well of mixed emotion
threatened to explode inside Tiffany, and she found herself defending him. ‘He
is not hard-hearted. It is only that he is—that is to say—’

Ariadne’s brows rose. ‘Yes? What
excuses have you for him?’

‘Excuses!
No, not that. Only—’

She tried to keep a curb on her
words, but so strong was her need to unburden herself they came out against her
will, but at least she remembered to lower her tone to a murmur.

‘He is still involved with Lady
Yelverton, and it is she who dictates what he may do, you may be sure.’ She
read denial in Ariadne’s eyes and stumbled quickly on. ‘And p-pray don’t tell
me it is not s-so, for I saw it with my own eyes.’

‘Fiddlesticks.’

‘It isn’t fiddlesticks. He was
kissing her fingers!’

Ariadne let out a trill of
laughter. ‘I dare say he was. What is that to the purpose? They are old friends
and fond of one another. But I can assure you there is nothing more than that
between them.’

‘Then why must he needs assure
her I am nothing to him? Why should he be at pains to convince her?’

She saw Ariadne’s sudden frown
and threw her hand across her mouth as if she would stuff back the words, which
had been uttered in a fierce whisper. What in the world had possessed her to
let it out? She looked frantically about, and was inordinately relieved to see
there was no one nearby.

‘Don’t concern yourself,’ said
Ariadne quickly. ‘I would not have begun upon this subject had there been any
likelihood of our being overheard.’ She reached out and Tiffany felt her hand
taken in a warm clasp. ‘My poor child, why in the world didn’t you speak of
this before? I could have set your mind at rest at once.’

A painful thumping started up in
Tiffany’s chest. She so longed to have the awful truth refuted. But how was it
possible?

‘But I heard him. I saw them
together.’

Ariadne tightened her grasp.
‘What you saw and what you heard, dear, do not necessarily reflect Will’s true state
of mind. If you must have it, he and I had been arguing when Juliana entered
the room, and he was in a black temper. I am sure whatever he may have said was
dictated by that.’

Tiffany wanted so badly to
believe this that it made it all the harder to accept. She had been well taught
by an astute judge of character in Uncle Matt.

‘Don’t go fooling yourself, Tiff,
whoever else may seek to fool you. Know your own mind, and look deep into your
own heart before you let yourself go down any road which might lead you
astray.’

It had become near second nature
to question herself at every turn. Her wishes must not blind her to reality,
whichever way Ariadne chose to read it. In a bid for time, she changed the
subject.

‘Did you see I managed to capture
Jeremy Brundish’s interest for a space? I don’t suppose you were in a position
to see Melinda, for you were on that same side, but I could have sworn she did
not even notice.’

Ariadne’s eyes lit. ‘That is
excellent. But we must not be premature. That girl has so little in her head it
might take a hammer blow to make her see what is right under her nose.’

A gurgle escaped Tiffany. ‘Is
that not a little harsh? I know she has not a deal of wit, but she is
good-hearted.’

‘I don’t dispute it. But there is
no denying it will require a good deal more in the same strain before we can
persuade Melinda she is not in the least jealous. And then I imagine you will
have to point out to her what that means.’

‘I must do so? Why should it be
me?’

‘Because she has taken you for a
friend, and girls always believe their friends before knowledgeable matrons.
And here she is.’ Tiffany looked round and saw Melinda approaching. Ariadne
gave her a conspiratorial look. ‘I will leave you. Do your worst.’

How she was supposed to take the
matter any further in the absence of Jeremy Brundish, Tiffany did not know. But
she greeted Melinda with an assumption of pleasure and assured her, upon
enquiry, she had been well entertained.

‘Thank goodness, because we have
only a few moments before the gentlemen come in. Papa is always prompt, for he
hates a wrangle and Mama becomes dreadfully annoyed if they sit too long over
their wine.’

Tiffany had nothing to say to
this, her pulses having sprung into life at the prospect of encountering the
Conqueror within a short space of time. She hardly heard Melinda’s chatter, for
her mind was concentrated on the absurd question of whether or not Will would
approach her. He had not singled her out publicly, beyond making her a bow when
they met among the rest of the company in one of the upstairs saloons before
dinner. Would he do so in this more relaxed period of the day, when it was
unlikely anyone would notice?

Fortunately the gentlemen came in
before she became utterly ill at ease. Melinda was immediately besieged with
requests to play, and moved away at once to the pianoforte in the alcove, where
Lord Kilbride and Jeremy Brundish joined her, vying, as far as Tiffany could
tell, as to who was to turn the pages of her music.

‘Do you play, Miss Felton?’

Mr Northwick had appeared from
nowhere. Tiffany dragged her attention away from the area of the instrument,
where the ladies and gentlemen, the Conqueror among them, were hovering around
nearby chairs as if they meant to settle to listen.

‘Play?’

She looked at him, unable for a
moment to understand his reference.

‘An instrument,’ he elucidated,
glancing across at the performance alcove. ‘Either the pianoforte or the harp,
which are both provided.’

‘I can play the pianoforte,’
Tiffany admitted, ‘but not at all well. Certainly badly enough to be excused
having to perform in front of this assembly.’

He smiled, crumpling his face the
more. ‘I thought all young ladies were taught accomplishments for the sole
purpose of showing them off.’

‘Yes, but I was not—’ Tiffany
stopped on the point of saying she had not been taught as a
young lady
.
She thought quickly and resumed. ‘I was never called upon to do so, except to
amuse my family.’

‘But you enjoy music?’

‘If it is well executed. I can’t
take much pleasure from a poor performance, and I should not dream of
inflicting one on anyone else.’

Mr Northwick laughed gently. ‘You
are a remarkably considerate girl, Miss Felton. I wish you had been my
daughter.’

‘Have you a daughter?’ asked
Tiffany, diverted.

‘No, alas. I have only a son, and
he is safely married so you need not fear him either.’

She became indignant. ‘Mr
Northwick, I beg you will acquit me of hanging out for a husband.’

The faint amusement she had seen
before entered his features. ‘Is that not the sole aim of all debutantes?’

‘No! At least, it is not I but my
uncle who desires me to—I would never have thought of such a thing if it
weren’t for—’

He
leaned a little closer. ‘Take care. You may be overheard, for if I don’t miss
my guess, here comes your suitor now.’

With which, he moved languidly
away, leaving Tiffany staring, her chest a breathless hollow, at the
approaching figure of William Westerham, all too handsome in cream breeches and
a coat of his favourite green.

Beset by mixed emotions William made his way across the
spacious room to Tiffany’s side. Had it not been for the oysters and her
subsequent tendency to look to him for assistance, he would have held to his
intention to ignore her presence. Beyond what the barest civility dictated
earlier in the day, he had meant to behave as if they were as close to
strangers as made no odds. Were it not for the unfortunate circumstance of her
catching him with Juliana at just the wrong moment—and Lord knew how much of
what he said she might have heard!—he would at this moment be feeling a
stranger to her. But he had not bargained for the effect upon his senses of
seeing her helpless once more under the rigid rules of etiquette.

Since their last few meetings had
been conducted in secrecy, her inexperience in these matters had passed from
his mind. Had he thought about anything other than the daunting disaster of her
presence, he might well have recalled it and found his sympathies stirred.

Except it was more than sympathy.
Once he had managed to convey a hint concerning the correct way to eat oysters
in company, he had found himself plagued by an undercurrent of anxiety, which
held him in thrall for the remainder of the meal. He had been obliged to keep a
surreptitious eye open for the slightest indication Tiffany was in
difficulties, the thought uppermost in his mind that it would be his fault if
she made a slip and came to grief. If one thing was more certain than another,
it was that if he had not opened the way, it would never have occurred to
Ariadne to push matters to this extreme. Tiffany had endured humiliation
enough. He could not bear to be the means of piling on yet more. If nothing
else, he owed her this little help.

William had been unprepared,
however, for the wave of annoyance that hit him when he had seen her so readily
strike up an interest in the Brundish lad. And just when he was breathing a
trifle easier to see her managing better with the meal. Her eyes had lit in the
roguish fashion that had first caught his interest. Not that he could suppose
it a look reserved to himself, but it did little for his comfort to see it
bestowed upon another man.

It signified nothing much, beyond
the possibility William was missing her friendship. She had looked to him
almost in the old way when she’d had need of his guidance. He had not realised
how much of a change he had wrought in their relations by his manner of
treating her during the few tempestuous meetings they’d had in the recent past.
There was so much to regret, and yet too much to risk in making amends.