Page 54 of The Proposition
Lady Veitch sighed and adjusted her heavy skirts. “Itisperfectly situated. As you please, my dear. Perhaps a bit of air will put roses in your cheeks again, lest that lover’s melancholia take hold of you for good.”
It was too late for that, Clemency thought, trying not to go too swiftly to the doors and give herself away. She couldn’t stand to hear one more sanctimonious word from Lady Veitch, even if sparring with her did bring the blood up.
“Lord,” she muttered, breaking out into the cold air with a relieved gasp. She inhaled deeply, fond of the crisp, wet edge to the air when rain abated.
“Do not be long, dear!” she heard Lady Veitch call after her. “I do so enjoy our lively conversations.”
Clemency curtseyed and then turned back toward the road, grinning. Yes, a bit of debatewasdiverting. And in fact, it was what made her sorely miss her time with Mr. Ferrand. Joyful, one might call it. Clemency grunted and fit her hands around the railing, her fingernails scraping against the molded stone. That dreadful, stubborn, infuriating man! Everything in her heart ought to revolt at the thought ofhim, but the opposite was true—she thought too often of his keen green eyes and tousled black curls, of his wit, and of his overbearing tenderness for his sister.
She realized she had closed her eyes, conjuring the image of him. Why couldn’t she just be smart and resolute and hate him?
“Miss Fry?”
Her fantastical conjuring would have to wait. Adeline had followed her out onto the balcony, hands poorly concealing a folded letter that she had tried to tuck into the fabric of her skirt. Lady Veitch’s daughter gave one glance back toward the assembled party and then tiptoed forward, easing herself out of their sight.
“Yes?” She put on a smile for the girl, whose brow was already furrowed in consternation.
“You speak so forcefully on the subject of marriage, I wondered if you might give me counsel now.” Adeline gave a weak titter, but she had gone pale. She handed Clemency the letter she had been hiding and shook her head, her turban bobbing perilously on her tight ringlets. “I have acquired an unexpected suitor. My mother and sister know nothing of it, and I find myself quite in a tangle. You see, I have never met him, but he writes so ardently of his affection for me, just the sight of me going by in Mother’s carriage has moved him to almost poetic passions….”
Clemency’s hackles rose at once. An unknown suitor writing to a woman of great wealth and average intelligence did not fill her with hope for a wise romantic match. Still, she reached for the letter, unfolded it, and began to read. Her suspicions only doubled.
“How did this letter come to be in your possession?” she asked. “If you have never met the gentleman?”
“A strange little boy approached me along the Ladies’ Mile and waited until Mother and Arabella were distracted, then prevailed upon me to take the note.” Adeline frowned and pinched both of her forefingers and thumbs together. “I did not expect to find a love confession!”
“No, of course not,” Clemency murmured. “I must advise caution in this matter. While the gentleman is certainly…” She searched for the right word, aware that this might be Adeline’s first brush with romance and wary of spoiling it entirely. Even if she did not marry this odd suitor, she might still come away with a fond memory of his lovestruck effusion. “…Persuasive, this is about general love.”
“General love?” Adeline’s frown deepened. “How do you mean, Miss Fry?”
Clemency returned the letter, convinced she had spied a line or two lifted completely from a Henry Fielding novel. The suitor had signed his name only as “Your Admirer.” “He does not write of you but of feelings a man might have for any woman. He has no knowledge of you, of your passions, your life, your aspirations…This is a man desperate to be in love, not necessarily in love with you.”
Adeline went still, then gradually her frown hardened into a grim line. “I am afraid you speak sense, Miss Fry.” She turned to go, then paused and whirled back again. “Then I should avoid him? Truly you think so?”
Avoid love writ large, sweet girl. Maybe an errant copy ofOn Marriagecould turn up in Adeline’s things and steer her in the right direction.
There was no reason to prolong the disappointment. “I would say so, yes. I am sorry; it is never enjoyable to counsel against attachment, but in this case the gentleman has given me no choice. And you did want my honest opinion, did you not?”
The girl filled with resolve once more, though Clemency knew this cycle of wistful sadness and resilience might need to occur several more times. “I did. Thank you.” The smallest smile graced Adeline’s round face as she looked Clemency up and down, satisfied. “It is understood that unfashionable women may lack style but often make up for it with an abundance of reason, as you have just demonstrated.”
In return, Clemency offered a tight-lipped smile, refusing to be offended or even surprised by a rich young woman’s impertinence. “How well said.”
Adeline remembered to curtsey before bustling back into the house and away from the balcony. When the girl was gone, she went again to the railing and the city spread out below, lost again in thought, wondering just what Mr. Ferrand would say to Adeline about her situation. No doubt he would have harsher words for her, having no patience for what was obviously a scheme or utter nonsense.
Clemency peered out into the darkness, pools of lantern light illuminating the rain-slicked street at intervals. Coaches went up and down, wheels sloshing through puddles, hooves clattering over cobbles, while music drifted out from every parlor window, a softly mad symphony played to the night. Standing in one such pool, across from Lady Veitch’s stately townhouse, was a man in an imposing black coat, his hatunder one arm, his height, stature, and silhouette achingly familiar.
“It cannot be,” she whispered. But she knew it was. He had somehow found her and was standing there, watching. Her whole heart opened, and the sudden rush of relief made her dizzy.
“Escaping again? Hardly seems fair.”
Damn it all. Another intrusion.
Boyle had chosen that exact moment to pounce, sherry heavy on his breath as he crowded her against the railing. With his height and vantage, he might easily see Audric idling in the lantern light across the street. Clemency stepped to the side, hoping to draw his gaze away. She wanted desperately to see if Audric was still standing there, but dared not flick her eyes in that direction.
Would Turner recognize him at this distance? Was it worth taking that risk? Did she even care? The dizziness made her reckless. But no, Audric was close now, and she must be careful and momentarily patient. Clemency felt sure her heart would tumble right out of her mouth as she pretended to laugh and primp her hair. “Oh, I am hardly escaping, I think she is hilariously entertaining.”
“Then why have you fled?” The pretend baron had found a gleaming suit for the evening, the dark green a dashing counterpart to his ginger hair. He put one hand on the railing beside her, aggressively close to her own fingers.
“I am merely collecting myself for the next sortie,” Clemency said. “This was a momentary rest.”
