Page 100 of Souvenir of Love

“Lady Alix, you are positively glowing,”Anne Dinsmore cooed, one hand casually draped across the narrow waist of her yellow-and-blue-striped gown. Her eyes drifted across the elegantly set tea table and lingered on the mound of Alix’s belly. “The very picture of”—she paused as if searching for the correct word—“robustgood health. I do hope you are feeling well.”

Alix’s gray eyes met Anne’s. “When one’s life is so full of happiness, one cannot complain.”

“Sugar in your tea, Lady Anne?” Louisa gestured with a pair of silver sugar tongs in an attempt to ease the tension.

“With a disposition such as hers,” Madeleine murmured in French behind her teacup, “she probably takes only lemon.”

Anne shot Madeleine a suspicious glance before turning to answer Louisa. “Just milk, if you please, Lady Moreham.”

“It is so kind of you to invite us to call,” Agatha said enthusiastically when her teacup had been filled. “I have heard so much about Lady Moreham’s famous gardens. I confess, I have spent much of the summer hoping I might have the opportunity to see them for myself.”

“Agatha,” Anne said loudly and patted her cousin’s hand, “you must not embarrass our hosts. While the countryside does not present the same social demands as the London season on a family as important as the Morehams, still there are expectations. Invitations to call upon all the respectable houses. Despite Lady Alix’s delicate condition, I am certain the ladies have been very busy this summer…”

“But, of course, the ladies have been busy,” Agatha amended quickly, her face coloring like a pink raisin at the reprimand. “We ourselves have been most occupied paying social calls. Why, just last week we returned from a lengthy stay with the Norcrofts of Hartsdale.”

Anne resisted the urge to thank her cousin for so effortlessly introducing the subject into the conversation. Instead, she smiled across the table at her hostesses. “Such a lovely family. Do you know them?”

“We know many people,” Louisa answered noncommittally.

“They have a daughter.” Anne tapped a finger to her lips as if trying to draw forth a memory. “Arabella…I could haveswornshe and Elizabeth were close as sisters last season.”

“The season”—Madeleine shrugged—“is such a crush. One may appear to be old friends with a complete stranger, simplybecause one cannot move away.” Her dark eyes narrowed on Anne. “And one does so hate to be thought rude.”

“True,” Anne persisted, “and yet when I met you in town the other day, you told me Lady Elizabeth was visiting Arabella Norcroft at Hartsdale.”

“Lady Elizabeth Harcrestand Lord Dinsmore, my lord,” Livingston intoned as if they were entering a ballroom instead of her brother’s library. But unlike a formal ball, he did not remain standing by the door.

He exited swiftly as soon as Elizabeth and James stepped into the room.

Elizabeth kept her eyes fixed on the figure of her brother, sitting stiff and straight behind his massive mahogany desk. The sun shining in from the windows behind him framed the broad outline of his shoulders and set strands of gold in his tawny hair alight. When she’d been a child, she’d often imagined God on his throne in heaven must look like her brother behind his desk.

Rafe didn’t speak until the door had closed behind Livingston. “I won’t say that I’m pleased to see you, because it is not in my nature to lie.”

Elizabeth resisted the urge to look at James or touch his hand for strength. He had wanted to address Rafe first, to visit him alone, and to protect her from his anger. But she needed to face her brother. “Rafe, I am truly sorry.”

“For which aspect of your appalling behavior? Rolling about on the floor of the Dinsmores’ library with this man? Asking us if you might visit Arabella Norcroft while planning to run off? Lying to us? Blackmailing my coachman?” His voice remained cool, but he’d begun to punctuate each sentence with a sharp tap of his finger on the desk. “Or driving this household to distraction with worry?”

“I regret all the things you have mentioned and more.” She struggled to keep her voice steady. “You, Arabella, Alix, Louisa, your coachman, they were not the only ones to whom I lied, not the only ones whom I blackmailed.”

“How very tawdry, Elizabeth. You must be exceedingly proud of yourself.”

His voice reminded her of ice upon a windowpane. In the past, she would have attempted to melt it with tears. “I am not proud of everything I’ve done. So many things were wrong, hurtful. I was foolish and impulsive. But I’ve learned…”

Rafe wasn’t listening. His gaze had shifted from his sister to James. “I see you are still dancing to tunes played by others, Dinsmore. Your sister…” He tapped a finger sharply against the desk. “My sister…” Another tap. “Indeed, I should call you out again, but I fear I should find a woman come to fight me in your stead.”

“Rafe!” Elizabeth was appalled at the cruelty of her brother’s words. “James had no part in my plans. I blackmailed him into taking me with him to France.”

He continued to ignore her, his eyes fixed on James. “Still hiding behind a woman’s skirt?”

“No,” James said sharply. “I should have fought back, stood up for what I wanted, instead of letting you mete out what I thought was a just punishment.”

“Just punishment? You think that petty scar is punishment enough for seducing my sister before an audience provided by your sister? Elizabeth,” Rafe demanded, “did your lover tell you that as he lay at my feet in the mud he refused to apologize for touching you?”

“He gave me all the explanations I needed in France…” Elizabeth began.

“France. You took my sister toFrance, Dinsmore. She might have been killed. I should have cut your lying throat when I had the chance.”

James stepped closer to the desk. “The only lie I perpetrated was in allowing you to believe you could best me. I was not hiding behind a woman’s skirt then, and I am not now.”