been very interested, I am sure.’
‘Did you offer references, Miss Sibson?’ Jonathon asked with an arrogant curl of his lip. ‘Or was it a little detail you neglected, Louisa? Miss Sibson was never very good on details.’
‘Your sister, Miss Daphne, was always considered an excellent judge of character. She interviewed me and was satisfied. More than satisfied.’ Louisa ignored Jonathon’s barb. She knew what game he was playing—trying to drive a wedge between her and Miss Daphne. Not content with ruining her once, he wanted to ruin her again. Hopefully Miss Daphne was not suddenly going to become difficult and demand particulars. Here. In public. The last thing Louisa desired was a reliving of her dismissal for improper behaviour with the very reason towering over her.
‘Mattie … yes, she had an instinct for character. One I sadly lack. I trusted her judgement on such things.’ Miss Daphne ducked her head like a child, her grey ringlets hanging in submission.
Louisa’s heart squeezed. She had been far too quick to judge. Miss Daphne had a kind heart, far kinder than most people’s. While Miss Mattie knew about the failed love affair and its aftermath, Louisa had never confided the full story to Miss Daphne. Obviously Miss Mattie had done as she had promised and kept the confidence. The thought made Louisa miss the elderly lady with her vinegar tongue all the more.
‘You have been in Italy,’ Jonathon said, his lips becoming a thin white line.
‘Yes, Italy. Sorrento, in the Kingdom of Two Sicilies, to be precise.’ Louisa fixed a polite smile. The next round in the match had begun. Italy had been his stepmother’s idea of precisely the right place for an inconvenient governess in a delicate condition to go. Within moments of Louisa agreeing, Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had produced a ticket for the mail coach and one for a packet leaving London and bound for Naples. And Venetia Ponsby-Smythe had been correct. Eventually Louisa had found a far better life than in the gutters of Warwick. ‘The air there has been more conducive to my health than Warwickshire’s.’
‘And now you have returned. Is England to have the benefit of your company for long?’
‘I have returned to the north-east. Not to Warwickshire. And only temporarily. Miss Daphne wished to visit those places she remembered from her childhood.’ Louisa swallowed hard, hating the way her breath caught in her throat. She curled her hand about her fan and concentrated on taking calming breaths. ‘You must remember me to your sister, Margaret. When will she have her first Season?’
‘Next Season, if my stepmother gets her wish.’
Louisa took another deep breath. Icy politeness, talking about inconsequential acquaintances. But equally she had to know—what had happened to her rival. Had he married her?’And Clarissa Newton?’
‘We married a year after you … disappeared,’ Jonathon said in a measured tone. ‘Clarissa nursed me back to health and everyone agreed that it was the correct thing to do. Chesterholm needed an heir.’
They had married. Mrs Ponsby-Smythe had told the truth. Louisa’s insides churned as she forced her back to be ramrod straight. Clarissa had been everything that she was not—well connected, accomplished and possessing looks that were in fashion. With the little misalliance out of the way, he had married Clarissa, no doubt in a huge wedding with all the ton in attendance.
‘And is Lady Chesterholm with you?’ Miss Daphne asked.
‘Regretfully, Miss Elliot, Lady Chesterholm died eighteen months ago. She contracted a fever and died hours after giving birth.’ Jonathon inclined his head and his face showed genuine sorrow.
Died. Louisa’s retort withered on her lips. Clarissa was dead. Despite everything that Clarissa had done, all the petty remarks about governesses getting above their stations and all the boasting about how she’d rule the ton as Jonathon’s wife and how they had been betrothed in the cradle, Louisa had never wished for the woman’s death.
‘I am sorry for your loss,’ she whispered.
‘As am I,’ Miss Daphne said, putting a handkerchief to her eyes. ‘It is so tragic when a young woman loses her life in childbirth.’
Louisa silently put the shawl about Miss Daphne’s shoulders. If she was very lucky, she would be able to escort Miss Daphne home now. Miss Daphne loved a good weep. This night and her meeting with Lord Chesterholm would be behind her. Tonight demonstrated how easily she could lose everything she held dear if she failed to keep to her rules.
‘And now, my dear lady, it is my turn to offer condolences.’ Jonathon captured Miss Daphne’s hand, and prevented Louisa from leading her off. ‘Lord Furniss informs me that your sister recently died. You both visited Furniss several times at Eton for the Montem celebrations.’
‘How good you are.’ Miss Daphne’s eyes shimmered. ‘We always brought iced buns. They were Rupert’s favourite.’
‘My dear mama always forbade them as she thought it bad for my figure,’ Lord Furniss said, puffing up his chest. ‘But there is something glorious about an iced bun—sugar on the top and soft dough underneath.’
‘And now you have returned to the land of your birth, Miss Elliot,’ Jonathon said.
Louisa frowned, trying to work out why Jonathon was determined to prolong the painful encounter. Silently she willed him to give up and go.
‘For a fleeting visit. Dear Louisa wishes to return home as soon as possible.’
‘I am hoping to persuade them both to stay in the country,’ Lord Furniss said, reaching for Louisa’s hand.
Louisa avoided it. Tomorrow, she promised silently, tomorrow she would check the steamship timetable.
‘I regret, Lord Furniss, our schedule …’ Louisa said, inclining her head.
‘How long are you here, Miss Elliot?’
‘Louisa took charge of all the arrangements, even though England holds few good memories for her. She has a wonderful talent for scheduling and making sure all the details are sorted.’ Miss Daphne gave a tremulous smile. ‘But then you know Louisa, how kind she is and what a wonderful eye for detail she possesses.’
‘Yes, I do know her.’ His eyes shone like cold emeralds. ‘I will take your word for her kindness. And I’m pleased to learn her eye for detail has improved.’
Louisa flinched. Once he had proclaimed her the kindest of women and told her that he’d love her until he died. She refused to let his words have any lasting sting. They were only words. And she wanted nothing from him. She needed nothing.
‘I think it might be best if I checked on the carriage, Miss Daphne. We would not want to put the schedule in jeopardy.’ Without giving Miss Daphne a chance to answer, Louisa marched away, clinging to the remnants of her temper. It was better to leave than to fight.
‘Don’t forget my shawl … Louisa.’ An elderly voice floated out over the crowd. ‘You promised …’
Jonathon watched the swinging mauve skirt of the very much alive Louisa Sibson disappearing into the crowd. He wanted to shake her insolent shoulders for vanishing in the way she had. For years, he had thought her dead, religiously visiting her supposed grave on the anniversary of her death, but she was alive and far more beautiful than his last memory of her.
Why
