The American Bride

chapter Four

The schoolroom door opened and Richard entered. At his well groomed, yet closed-in expression, Cara sighed. Gone was the boy, painted face aglow, who had leaped out of a tree brandishing an Indian tomahawk.

"Richard, could you do me a favor?" Cara asked.

"I suppose so," he answered, far from enthusiastically.

"Despite the fact that the days are warm it does get a bit cool once the sun goes down. I thought perhaps you could take care of the fire each evening. I can do it but I thought you should be in charge. Belin might be able to help but she is still very young."

"Oh, rather," the boy drawled, trying to hide his elation. He reached for the largest log and began to drag it over to the fireplace.

"Would you like me to show you how an Indian makes a fire?" Cara asked diplomatically.

"Oh, rather!"

Kneeling down in front of the fireplace Cara told him how to lay the fire, starting with kindling and building up to the larger logs. Soon Richard's coat was off and he was immersed in his project. Returning to her chair Cara noticed that Belin had entered, standing just inside the doorway, her hands behind her back.

"Oh, Belin, I'm glad you've come to join us." Cara kept her voice cheerful, although her heart sank at the sight of the filthy child. Like the night before, her dress was streaked and her hair tangled. Preparing herself for the fight to come, Cara sank onto the edge of the sofa cushion. "You'll have to come over here if you want to hear the story. Richard's working on a fire for us, so everything will be nice and cozy."

Rigidly the child approached until she stood directly in front of Cara. There were traces of tears on her cheeks and an inconsolable sadness in the brown eyes that shrank before Cara's glance. Slowly Belin withdrew her hands from behind her back and placed them in Cara's lap, then closed her eyes waiting for the inspection. As she looked down at the hands in her lap, Cara understood the root of Belin's rebellion.

Between each pudgy finger of both hands there was a tiny webbing of skin.

Pity made her reach out to Belin but she dropped her hands before she touched the child. Angrily Cara wondered why no one had told her about the slight deformity. It explained so much of the child's behavior. Schooling her voice to it's most matter-of-fact, she picked up the tiny cold hands in her own warm ones.

"Why they're perfectly clean, Belin." She had to smile. Belin had taken Cara at her word and had washed her hands in order to participate in the treats. But, only her hands. From the wrists up, water had not touched her body. "Here, I'll pour you some chocolate."

The child relaxed, her body sagging in her relief that Cara hadn't mentioned her hands. Cautiously she peeked up at her governess. Her face was a complex of fear and puzzlement. The fear won. Snatching her hands away from Cara, she waved them in front of her body. Her face was screwed up in agony, her body fairly vibrating with her agitation.

"Can't you see my hands?" Her eyes were wide open, spitting fire. "I'm a witch's spawn!"

Although her heart raced in fear, Cara answered calmly, knowing how important her actions were to the furious child. "Of course I saw your hands, Belin. I thought you just didn't want me to know your secret. But even in America we've heard of the sign of the Frog Princess." Then quickly while the child was still off balance, Cara hurried on. "Sit down, Belin. Richard's got the fire going now and as soon as we get some chocolate I'll tell you about it. I'm sure you've been told the story a hundred times but perhaps Richard hasn't heard it."

Ignoring the spluttering child, Cara busied herself handing around the chocolate and cakes. She complimented Richard on the fire. His face flushed with pride as he sipped the hot chocolate. Belin sat on the edge of her chair, clutching her cup in an agony of suspense. Cara reseated herself and began her story. Both children's eyes were fixed on her face.

"You see, a long, long time ago a king had a beautiful daughter who was in love with a handsome prince. He lived across a huge body of water. One day she wanted to see him and there were no boats to take her across the water. A wicked wizard told her he would change her into a frog so that she could swim across." Cara noticed that although Belin was absorbed in the fairy tale, her body was taut with tension. "Delighted with the clever plan, the princess let him turn her into a frog. In the twinkling of an eye she swam to the other side. But the wizard had tricked her and she did not change back into a princess. She remained a frog. The prince married someone else when he thought he had lost his true love. So every night the frog princess sat on a lily pad and cried. Even today on certain nights you can hear her cry."

"But what's that got to do with my hands?" Belin wailed.

"As you probably know, every hundred years a girl is born with hands like yours. It's a great honor, you know. It means that if she ever falls in love with someone across the water she won't have to turn into a frog. Her hands will help her swim."

For a moment the child sat stock-still and then two huge tears rolled down her cheeks and her whole body shook in a shuddering cry. She dropped her cup and wrapped her arms around her knees, rocking back and forth in an agony of grief. Alarmed at the child's reaction, Cara scooped the trembling girl on to her lap and rocked and petted her, murmuring words of comfort.

Richard who had been watching with brotherly disinterest, spoke. "Ghisele told Belin she was a witch's spawn and would burn in hell no matter what she did."

"Who is Ghisele?" Cara asked, mentally condemning the woman to eternal damnation.

"She was our old nanny. I think she was a witch herself." Richard sounded more hopeful than worried. "She said that's why our mother didn't want to see Belin. It would be like looking at the Devil."

"Nonsense," Cara snapped.

"Then how come our mother never wanted to have us around?"

Belin had stopped her trembling and now lay still in Cara's lap.

"To be perfectly honest, Richard, I don't know. I didn't know your mother so I can't be sure." Cara knew what she said would be very important in her future dealings with the children. She knew she needed to be honest. "There are some people that just aren't very comfortable around children. They don't know what to say to them so they just take the easy way out and try to stay away from them."

"I never know what to say either," Richard confided, accepting her explanation.

"She didn't want to see my hands. When she looked at them she always cried," Belin accused.

Cara cursed the insensitivity of the children's mother.

"Well, Belin, if you were ashamed of your hands perhaps she felt sorry that you were sad and that made her cry." Cara looked down at the girl in her lap, wanting to hug away all the hurts. "I don't know, Belin. I honestly don't."

Red-rimmed eyes stared into Cara's blue-green ones. Used to ridicule and evasions, the little girl recognized the truth in her governess' reply. Belin blinked, accepting the fact that Cara did not know the answers to some questions and childlike, skipped to another subject.

"Does that mean I can swim?"

"No. Unless you've practiced you won't be able to swim. And by the looks of you, young lady, I don't think you've been near very much water."

"If I'm dirty, no one looks at my hands." The streaked face was wreathed in an enchanting smile and Cara hugged her impulsively.

"So that's your game, is it?" Cara beamed at the girl whose smile transformed her. "I have a proposition for you. If you take a bath and wash your hair tomorrow, I'll teach you both to swim. Is it a bargain?"

Belin hugged Cara for an answer and Richard whooped with delight. The remainder of the evening passed quickly with tales of princes, warriors and other stories culled from Cara's memory of her own childhood.

After the children left for bed Cara changed into her nightgown but found she was too restless to sleep. She rummaged in the wardrobe, groaning at the atrocious plaid woolen robe she found among her acquired wardrobe. Cara belted the bulky material around her waist trying not to trip on the hem which dragged on the floor as she walked barefoot into the schoolroom. Prodding the dying fire with a poker, Cara sighed as the flames rekindled and the heat fought off the chill of the room. Pacing to the windows she smiled at her reflection in the darkened panes. The lacy nightcap looked ludicrous with the serviceable plaid robe. Cara promised herself when she returned to her grandmother's she would burn the offending article.

The hallway door opened sending the flames shooting up in the fireplace. Gasping in fright, Cara swung around as Julian strode across the threshold. Clutching the robe at her throat, she pressed against the windows, her heart pounding as her husband stalked toward her. Cara closed her eyes to shut out the huge figure looming in front of her.

Bracing herself she waited for the assault.

"I am not here to ravish you, Miss Farraday," Julian snapped, offended by the fear on the girl's face. "I've never had a penchant for plaid."

Stiffening at the insult, Cara drew herself up and stared coldly at Julian's raised eyebrow. "One should never mock those less fortunate."

"Hah!" Julian snorted. He averted his eyes as though unable to look at the atrocious garment.

"You shouldn't be here, Lord Wilton."

"I was passing by."

"Really, your lordship? Looking for the children, no doubt?"

"All right. All right. I came to apologize," Julian muttered under his breath.

Cara had to smile at his peeved tone of voice. It was obvious that her husband was unused to apologizing for his behavior. Yet despite her gratification at his words, she still felt anger.

"When I took the position as governess I did not suspect that I would be subjected to such insults, Lord Wilton," Cara accused.

"I assure you, Miss Farraday, that your sensibilities will not be further enraged. Put it down to a touch of the sun and the uncontrolled lusts of a gentleman."

It was Cara's turn to snort with amusement. Although Julian's apology was laced with sarcasm, she did sense embarrassment behind the taunting words. Straightening her spine, Cara prepared to be gracious.

"I think it will be best for us to start over, Lord Wilton. The encounter in the woods never happened."

"I have already forgotten it," Julian replied, his voice filled with indifference.

Cara was surprised when she felt a sharp pang of regret at his words. She chided herself, remembering that Julian's behavior was insulting at best, adulterous at worst.

"Is there anything else, Lord Wilton?"

"My man Craten recommended Barrett," Julian said to Cara's total mystification.

"Recommended him for what? And who is Barrett?"

"Barrett is one of the footmen. He's just sixteen and, Craten, my valet thought he ought to be able to take care of Richard."

"I see," Cara said, understanding that they were talking about a servant to act as valet for Richard. "I'm glad."

"Craten's standards are more exacting than the Regent's. He'll keep an eye on Barrett so that by the time Richard goes through the man-milliner stage he can keep the boy from some of the gaudier excesses of fashion."

Julian's words filled Cara with a warm glow of gratitude. She searched her husband's face looking for a softening of his normal autocratic expression. Her eyes were drawn to his lips and she remembered their pressure on her own mouth. Hot color rose to her cheeks and she pulled her bathrobe around her.

"What will happen to Janey?" Cara asked, pulling her thoughts back to the discussion.

"She'll help Mrs. Clayton do, uhh, things." Julian airily waved his hand to indicate Janey's new duties.

"Thank you, Lord Wilton."

At the softly spoken words, Julian's head swung around to stare at the governess. He had expected a more acerbic comment and was surprised at the simple response. He winced at the garish robe, his eyes transfixed by a particularly discordant shade of orange that ran around the uneven hem. As if the girl sensed his scrutiny she tucked her bare toes modestly away from his prying eyes. The childish gesture struck Julian with the vulnerability of the girl and he was further discomfited by his behavior in the woods. He wondered at his own presence in the schoolroom at such an hour and chastised himself for remembering the soft innocence of the young girl's lips.

"That will be all, Miss Farraday," Julian announced, spinning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Cara stood transfixed, staring after the departing figure. Although relieved, she felt a spurt of anger at the suddenness of his departure. Grumbling and muttering over Julian's rudeness, she banked the fire for the night and returned to her bedroom.

Wriggling luxuriously under the covers, Cara woke slowly. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned, letting full wakefulness steal through her body. She was surprised at the bright sunshine that poured in the windows, puddling in cheerful splotches on the carpet. Reaching for her watchpin on the table beside her bed she was aghast at the lateness of the hour.

Cara leaped out of bed and hurried to the wardrobe, wondering that no one had roused her for breakfast. Making a moue of distaste she pulled a brown merino dress out of the wardrobe. She remembered all the fashionable dresses she had brought to England and moaned at the graceless dress with the prim white collar and bulky skirt. She gazed into the mirror as she tied the stiff cloth of her headdress making sure that her hair was covered. I look like a poor postulant waiting with little joy the prospect of joining the nunnery, she thought. She sighed and opened the door to the nursery.

On entering the schoolroom she was greeted by Richard with a conspiratorial grin on his face. After a courteous greeting he stood, hands behind his back, rocking back and forth on the heels of his shiny black boots. Before Cara could do more than note his restrained eagerness, the hallway door opened and Mrs. Clayton sailed in, followed by a line of servants with loaded breakfast trays. The oak table by the windows was covered with a snowy linen cloth and sparkled with crystal and china. The housekeeper smiled broadly at Cara then turned to face the door as though waiting for an apparition. At Richard's widening eyes, Cara swiveled to find the object of his bemusement.

Belin, sparkling clean, stood in the doorway.

Cara caught her breath in amazement for Belin did in fact look like an apparition. She was petite, tiny bones covered by creamy skin that would have been envied by the most notorious court beauty. She wore a blue and white sprigged muslin dress covered by a starched white apron edged with a delicate ruching of white. Her midnight black hair was brushed to a high sheen and drawn back by a wide blue velvet ribbon showing off her tiny shell pink ears. But it was in her face that Cara saw the greatest difference. Her brown eyes that had held such infinite sadness were shining with happiness as she held her immaculate hands out for inspection.

"Well, Belin, so that's what you look like under all that dirt!" Cara exclaimed as she walked toward her. She knelt down in front of the shining child and spoke so that no one else could hear. "Do you suppose I could give you a great big hug? It's supposed to be good luck to kiss anyone who has the sign."

Belin hurled herself into Cara's arms with a delighted squeal. As she lifted the child, carrying her to the table in triumph, Cara noticed Mrs. Clayton dabbing at her eyes but was too busy blinking to comment.

"We are a little late with breakfast," Mrs. Clayton explained. "Early this morning Belin demanded a bath so I thought it would be better to hold off your meal until she was properly ready."

Cara gathered that Belin's bath was such an unusual occurrence that Mrs. Clayton felt it called for a celebration. Over the heads of the children she smiled at the older woman who with an answering grin, bustled the servants out the door. Cara watched with enchantment as Belin ate her breakfast with dainty movements of her little hands. It was true that she still was self-conscious about her fingers but gone were the quick snatching movements of the first morning. In record time the children and their governess filled themselves with ham, eggs and fresh baked rolls, washed down by hot chocolate and a pungent orange flavored tea.

The happy threesome hurried outside and raced down to the lake. The sun was warm in the late morning and they wandered around the edge of the lake looking for a place to begin the swimming lessons. On the far side they found a small cove well covered by trees to keep them out of sight of the Hall and the other buildings. The water appeared to be shallow with a white sand bottom.

"I think this would be a perfect spot," Cara announced.

Although she would have liked to ask Mrs. Clayton about the suitability of swimming, Cara was sure the woman would be scandalized. Cara's father had taught her to swim at an early age and she had spent many a hot afternoon in the water. However her father had been rather progressive when it came to his daughter. He had felt that she ought to learn to ride, swim and shoot and to be as educated as the boys she grew up with. In America being female had been less of a handicap. In England she suspected Belin would be under far more restrictions. Cara felt that once the swimming lessons were an established fact Mrs. Clayton would be less likely to frown on the activity.

Belin was divested of all but her chemise and one petticoat although the child showed every indication of preferring to go into the water au natural. Richard swam in his trousers and shirt.

For a child who had avoided water for so long, Belin took to it immediately. Richard was more hesitant, cautiously entering the water and listening attentively to Cara's instructions. After a great deal of coaxing on Cara's part he lay across her hands and after considerable practice had more or less mastered the elementary stroke.

In the beginning Cara had hiked up her long skirts but as she became more involved they had fallen into the water and she was now wet to the knees. She chaffed at the restrictions of society and wished she could throw off her clothes and join the children in the water. She knew how much easier it would be for them to learn if they could see how she cut the water.

"Can't you come in too, Miss Farraday?" Belin begged.

"'Fraid not, dear. I doubt if it would be considered quite the thing."

Standing in the shallows Cara wriggled her toes in the sand delighted with her freedom from the cramping half boots she had been wearing. She watched the children, smiling at the high-pitched giggles that accompanied their efforts. Calling instructions to Richard she was pleased at his attempts to help Belin to float. She applauded enthusiastically each of their efforts as they shouted for her to watch.

"I think we better call it quits for today. I don't want you to get too tired or you won't have any energy left for tomorrow. Besides I'm getting hungry."

Tucking up her skirts Cara waded out to the children. She reached down to take Belin's hand but as she touched the wet fingers, her waterlogged skirts tumbled down and the shift of weight tipped her forward. Before she could fall in the water Cara jerked her body backwards. But she had overcompensated and with flailing arms she splashed down into the cool water. Both children rushed to her aid but, realizing they were too late to help, threw themselves beside her, gasping in hysterics. Realizing the ridiculousness of her position Cara joined in the general hilarity. Still laughing she struggled to her feet, hugging the children to her and staggered toward the shore

Looking up, she was speared by Lord Wilton's brown eyes.

Julian sat a deep-chested bay stallion directly above the pile of clothing on the shore. He was accompanied by another gentleman who was also mounted. Cara felt the blood rushing to her face, and groaned in an agony of embarrassment.

"Good morning, Miss Farraday," drawled Lord Wilton. "Are we interrupting some more lessons?"

"Lord Wilton." Cara nodded with a composure she was far from feeling. She ground her teeth and straightened her back trying to appear unconcerned at her disheveled appearance. With a steady pace she strode out of the water reaching down to retrieve one of the towels she had brought along.

Trying to ignore the presence of Julian and his companion, Cara handed a towel to Richard who proceeded to dry himself as he cast angry glances at the intruders. Belin, full of enthusiasm from the exercise, was far from cowed by the presence of the adults. Chirping and chattering she shook herself like a puppy, spraying water in every direction.

"Miss Farraday was teaching us to swim, Uncle Julian. It's ever so nice." She wriggled happily as Cara tried to dry her. "Miss Farraday says I'll be a smashing swimmer 'cause I've got a secret."

"Perhaps you'll tell it to me some time, Belin."

Julian pushed back the black curls on his forehead with a leather-gloved hand, looking at the little girl with a puzzled expression. He watched her for a moment then raised an eyebrow at the governess. Without words Cara knew he was questioning the change in the child and she nodded her head in confirmation.

"I haven't seen either of you children in quite awhile. Perhaps you would care to join me and my guests tonight after dinner?"

Although the invitation was phrased as a question, his tone made it evident that it would be a command performance. In two days Cara had already had enough confrontations with Julian and wondered at the possibility of avoiding the evening's audience. She considered smallpox or typhoid but assumed the way her luck was running that any dread disease would arrive too late to spare her from the coming interview. Groaning inwardly before those sparkling brown eyes she bowed to the inevitable.

"I'm sure the children would be delighted."

With a flash of white teeth Julian grinned at the obvious omission of the young woman's own pleasure in the audience. He had been correct in his original supposition that the addition of Miss Farraday would enliven his household. The girl had a penchant for getting herself into awkward, not to say unusual, situations. Chuckling he stared at the bedraggled group. Conscious of his companion's restive movement, he drew himself up in his saddle.

Julian had not missed the hiss of appreciation from the man beside him as the governess’ slender curves were revealed by the water-soaked material of her dress. He scowled at the man, then shrugged his shoulders as if bowing to the inevitable. His voice which had been teasingly sarcastic was now formal, tinged with ice.

"Your pardon, Miss Farraday. I seem to be forgetting my manners. May I present Richard and Belin's other uncle. This is Sir Edward Tallworth. His sister was the children's mother."

Painfully aware of her drenched state Cara barely managed a graceful curtsy. The children echoed her greeting but she herself refused to look up at either horseman.

"Miss Farraday is the children's governess," Wilton explained. "She was hired to keep the children out of trouble." Then noticing the gleam of appreciation in Edward's eye, he snarled, "Let's be off. We've wasted enough time with these aquatic exercises."

Belin wilted at the sudden desertion of the two men. But it was Richard's stricken expression that dismayed Cara as the boy blinked to keep back the tears. Neither gentleman had addressed the boy and now his face held the shuttered sullen look that Cara had begun to dread.

"Well, my dears, I certainly did land us all in the soup," Cara said. "I don't suppose I look so much like a governess as a drowned rat."

"Did you see Uncle Julian's face when he saw you with water running all down your dress?" Belin chirped.

"I'm very glad I didn't, Belin. I doubt if I made a very good impression on your other uncle either."

"Uncle Edward did look surprised. You do look a proper mess." The irrepressible child laughed; as she looked up at her governess.

"What a monstrous little girl you are." Cara grinned, hugging Belin's wet body.

"I bet he won't bother you like he did our last governess," Belin continued, innocently answering one of the questions Cara had been wanting to ask. "I heard Cook say it was Uncle Edward's fault that Mademoiselle Corday went away so sudden. But I don't know why it was because of Uncle Edward. She was going to get married and get a baby. At least that's what Janey and Agnes said."

"That's enough, Belin," Cara interrupted the busy stream of backstairs gossip. "I don't think it's very ladylike to listen to the servants' chatter."

"If I don't listen then I would never know what is going on," the child answered reasonably, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Richard finished drying himself and stood waiting until Cara finished dressing Belin. Then shoulders stiff, he trudged off in the direction of the Hall. Clutching Belin's hand Cara hurried to catch up with him.

"Well, Richard, I guess there's nothing for it," Cara said. "We'll have to put in an appearance after dinner. We'll get all dressed up and show everyone that we really are three very well behaved people."

"It won't do any good," Richard snapped. "Uncle Julian still won't like me and everyone will stare at Belin's hands," he finished brutally.

"As for Belin, everyone will be so astonished at how clean and pretty she looks they'll forget all about her hands," Cara promised. Then noticing the look of fear on the face of the child she squeezed her hand and smiled to dispel the little girl's trepidation. "They'll all say she's a changed changeling."

Belin giggled and clung a little tighter to Cara's hand.

"Besides, Richard," Cara continued, "I'm sure your Uncle Julian thinks you're a fine young man."

"No! He hates me! He hates me!" shouted Richard, breaking into a run.

Amazed at his outburst, Cara stood still, watching as the sobbing boy disappeared into the Hall. Feeling a tug on her hand she looked down into Belin's serious brown eyes.

"He's right, you know. Uncle Julian does hate him."

"But why, sweetheart?"

"It's because of the horses. Richard was in the carriage when the accident happened to our mother and father. He was asleep and then he bumped his head when the horses bolted and then he woke up and now he won't ride horses anymore and that's why Uncle Julian hates him," Belin finished breathless but triumphant.

"Poor little boy," Cara said under her breath. Anger at Lord Wilton's insensitivity coursed through her body. How could the man be so lacking in compassion? What a despicable creature her husband was.

Handing Belin over to the capable hands of Agnes, Cara continued to her own room. After soaking in a hot bath and changing into a dry set of clothes she felt better although still angry. She paced her room then returned outside to the stables in search of the headgroom, Glum. After a long and informative talk she and the bandy-legged man devised a plan that Cara hoped might help Richard overcome his fear of horses. She was contented with her day until she remembered the ordeal scheduled for the evening.

The thought of being scrutinized by Wilton's cold eyes sent a tremor of apprehension down Cara's spine. Her grandmother had cautioned her to remain inconspicuously in the background. She doubted if the Duchess would approve of her performance so far. Once more bracing her shoulders as if going into battle, Cara went indoors to prepare for the evening.

"Hold still, Belin, or I'll never get this sash tied."

Cara knew her voice was sharp but her frayed nerves were close to breaking. The children had been dressed and brought to her for a last minute inspection before they went down to see their guardian.

"There now. That's just perfect." Cara patted the bow in place and stood back to inspect the children one final time.

Richard was impressive from the frothy lace of his cravat to his shiny black boots. Gowned in pink, Belin looked angelic.

"I doubt if anyone will recognize us as the group of ragamuffins this morning," Cara announced, eliciting a weak smile from Belin and a vacant stare from Richard. He wore his habitual sulky expression and Cara knew that for him the evening would be a disaster.

Turning to the mirror she examined her own appearance. She had chosen a dark mustardy colored wool dress, bulky and uncomfortable for a June evening. The matching cowl-like headdress hung limp across her shoulders and down her back. Framed by the yellowish brown material, her pale complexion held an unhealthy pallor accentuated by the rice powder she had used to cover her brows and lashes. There was a ghostly quality to the nondescript figure in the mirror that amused Cara even as she winced at her non-personality. "Grandmother would approve," she muttered as she followed the children out of the room.

Outside the double doors of the large salon Cara pressed each hand and nudged the children forward as the footmen threw open the doors. While all eyes were on Richard and Belin, Cara slid inconspicuously along the silken wall just inside the doorway.

The salon was oddshaped with a rounded bay jutting out toward the back gardens. It was lavishly furnished in velvets, satins and brocades, however, despite the heavy furnishings, the room possessed an airy quality due to a myriad of beveled windows which reflected the candlelight and picked up the greens and golds which predominated and refracted the color like tiny suns glowing on the perimeter. The high vaulted ceiling was ornamented with richly carved plaster oddments and populated by glittering chandeliers hanging over the bay area and a comfortable seating area.

Cara smiled, remembering her grandmother's comment that "nobody ever looks at servants." Aside from a stir of activity as the children entered, her own presence had gone unnoticed. It was as though she were invisible, watching the players on a stage.

Her heart swelled with pride as she watched Belin chattering gaily, the only sign of nervousness a slight fidgeting with her dress sash. Richard was having a more difficult time. He stood ramrod straight, answering questions thrown at him by his uncle, Edward Tallworth, the man who had been with Julian at the lake.

"The pain was excruciating, Letitia," a heavily rouged octogenarian shouted at her equally ancient companion. "It radiated all down my right leg. It was the outside of enough that I had to resort to a cane."

"Well, my dear, that's what comes of all those rich foods." Letitia patted her diamond necklace, adjusting it more comfortably beneath her double chin. "It's gout for certain."

"Nonsense!" the old woman snapped. "That's for old fogies."

"La, Harriet. It's not like we're in our first bloom of youth." Letitia jabbed her fan into her friend's ribcage earning herself an affronted stare. "In my mind I'm still twenty but when I look around I'm surprised to note all the young ones. Innocent lambs, the lot of them."

Cara smiled as both ladies raised lorgnettes to survey the assemblage. She felt slightly sinful, eavesdropping on the women's conversation. Her own eyes went to the whist players in the bay area. She noted the details of the ladies' silk and muslin dresses, sighing over the beautiful jewels sparkling at exposed bosoms and wrists. The men's clothes she barely glanced at, except for one or two of the more outrageous court dandies. Having satisfied herself as to the current fashions, her gaze wandered until it rested on Julian.

Trying to steady her rapid heartbeat as she looked at her husband, Cara had to admire the picture he made. He wore a dark blue superfine jacket with a darker hued brocade waistcoat, unadorned by anything except a single gold watch fob. His cravat, tied in what Richard had called a Waterfall, rippled down his immense chest. As he talked to the children, his head was turned full face toward Cara and her eyes touched the fine features and brown eyes half concealed by coal black lashes. His dark hair tumbled across his forehead where he periodically brushed it back in annoyance.

"I always said her father was a want-wit. Valencia's lucky that her mother is gone. Now there was a sharp one."

Cara's wandering attention was brought back to the older women's conversation. Valencia's name had been mentioned by Agnes and Janey and their comments had been in no way complimentary. It took several minutes for Cara to weave together the backstairs gossip to realize the woman under discussion was the Lady Valencia Greeley, assumed by all to be her husband's current mistress.

"....no better than she should be!" Harriet finished. "Can't believe her father hasn't twigged to the situation."

Letitia leaned forward, her hand bracing her ample bosom as though to keep her fluttering heart within the tightly laced bodice. Lowering her voice she spoke with relish. "I hear that their pockets are to let. But looking at Valencia one would never suspect. That pink dress is one of Madame Chapair's creations, not some pinch-penny seamstress as Valencia would have you believe."

Once again the lorgnettes were raised and Cara's eyes followed to the woman seated beside Julian on the sofa.

Lady Valencia Greeley was beautiful. She was small but her figure was quite breathtaking from her voluptuous bosom to her curvaceous hips. Soft little hands fluttered girlishly as she plied her fan. The dress in question was of the softest shade of pink tulle, fragile as a cobweb. On another woman it would have been insipid but Cara admitted Valencia wore the dress with a piquant flair. A band of ruffles foamed at the low neckline giving coy glimpses of the white flesh it was supposed to conceal. Her head was molded by waves of golden tresses swept up to the back of her head where they cascaded in spiraling curls intertwined with pink ribbons.

"....beauty won't last forever," continued the indefatigable Harriet. "She appears to have a dash of excess flesh under her chin. And just look at her arms! My dear, she'll be waddling in another five years," the older woman announced happily.

Through narrowed eyes Cara scrutinized Valencia, trying to be objective. She did not consider the woman a rival for Julian's affections. At first Cara had been disturbed by her husband's unfaithfulness, but had reminded herself that it was common enough for a married man to have a mistress. However being sensible in the abstract, Cara found, was far different from being objective now that she was facing the actual object of Julian's desires. After all he is my husband, she muttered, eyeing the young woman.

Initially Valencia appeared to be in the first bloom of youth. She had a heart shaped face with a deep widow's peak set above slanting green cat's eyes. Although the eyes were small, they were balanced by the wide sweep of brows above and the tiny pouting mouth below. A beauty patch nestled in the valley of a dimple in her cheek. Although her every appearance called out an innocence of unawakened passion there was a sleepy awareness in the sensuality of her eyes and mouth. As Cara watched, Valencia dropped her hand to caress Julian's leg. It was but an instant's movement and then hand and face were back to their pose of girlish innocence.

To her chagrin, angry emotion washed over Cara. Lowering her eyes to hide her fury, she felt her cheeks redden and looked up again, only to be skewered on her husband's sardonic brown gaze.

Julian had been aware of Cara's presence since she entered the room. There was something about the girl that mystified him. She carried herself with an air that bespoke both education and breeding. Young in years perhaps, but her face, plain at first glance, held maturity and character. He noted in amusement that Miss Farraday was an innocent. She had seen Valencia's caress and Julian was delighted by the look of outrage that passed across the little governess' face.

His eyes scanned the faces in the room stopping when he noticed Edward Tallworth's interest in the young woman. Miss Farraday was not Edward's normal type; he gravitated toward the fluttering beauties or aging and moneyed widows. Damn the man, Julian thought. Couldn't he leave my staff alone?

"That will be all, children," Julian interrupted, surprised at his own sudden burst of anger.

"But Uncle Julian...," Belin began in her childish lisp. Tears trembled at the corners of her eyes as she reached out for Richard's protective hand.

"Thank you, Uncle Julian," Richard commented as he made a leg to the rest of the company. "Come along, Belin."

Cara was proud of the young man who gathered Belin against his side and walked with concentrated dignity toward the door. She herself slid along the wall escaping the salon with a sigh of relief.

"Well done, my dears," Cara congratulated the children. "Your behavior was exemplary."

"Is 'zemplurry' good?" Belin asked, still shaken by their abrupt dismissal.

Cara leaned down and hugged the child. "Not just good, Belin, excellent."

Belin brightened but Richard cast both females a scowl of disgust, refusing to be placated. Cara herself was relieved to be away from Julian's eyes and the devastating effect they had on her nervous system.