Page 60 of Twice Shy
‘Why? I cannot believe a single word of it. You have lied to me, deceived me into thinking …’ She halted, unable to go on for the lump in her throat, the tears that threatened to betray her.
‘If you would but let me explain.’
‘Explain? What?’ Her whisper was fierce, and she almost spat her response. ‘How much entertainment you got from watching me trying to fend off unwanted suitors?’ Her eyes accused.
‘No. I never intended … I did not know …’ Even as the words came tumbling urgently from his lips he knew that that had been the thought in the fateful moment when he had begun to give Collingbourne the name. It had been so brief in its duration that he had almost persuaded294himself it had never existed. He coloured, and halted, and his silence, taken as admission of guilt, fuelled her rage the more.
‘First you think it amusing to persuade your friend to pass off a horse as his so that I ride an animal that belongs to you. I scarcely dare imagine what perverse delight that was meant to give.’ Her lip curled. ‘Then I find you are the originator of the vulgar soubriquet that means I am positively hunted by men who wish to say they conquered the Unassailable. Thank you, Sir Lucius. Thank you so very, very much.’
‘That came first, and I had no idea—’
‘First? Was there then a long list of things? Tell me, Sir Lucius, what other ideas did you have for me?’ Her eyes flashed.
He was goaded into reply, goaded into saying what was the last thing he should have mentioned at that moment. ‘I was going to ask you to become my wife.’
The words sounded hollow, even to him. Lord Godmanchester winced. As a declaration, it was one doomed at birth. Elizabeth stared at him, her lips parted, as if he had just announced he was a cannibal. Her long fingers gripped the stem of her glass so tightly that a crack broke the silence between them. She stood, looking at him still, as blood began to drip steadily from her hand where the broken stem dug into her palm. There was no pain, for it was lost in the pain of hearing what she had thought she dreamt of hearing and now knew to be a cruel twisting of the knife in her heart. He had lied to her, made her the object of gossip, and now thought he could simply ask for295her hand? If he had any feelings for her, such a thing would have been impossible.
‘Miss Ashling, you are hurt.’ Lord Godmanchester stepped closer, but also shielding her from other eyes.
‘I fear the glass has broken,’ she announced, in a slightly surprised but disembodied voice. ‘Oh dear!’
The room began to spin, and she felt as if she were being sucked into some black whirlpool from which she had no inclination to even attempt escape. She heard a voice, focused hard to catch the words.
‘Let me …’ Sir Lucius grabbed a napkin and made to take her hand.
‘Do not touch me.’ Her own voice sounded far away, disjointed. ‘I would rather … bleed to death.’
With which she crumpled, descending into blackness. Whatever her wishes, Sir Lucius caught her before she reached the ground, pressed the linen over the wound and lifted her inanimate form to carry into an antechamber, away from prying eyes.
‘Find Lady Chalford, Giles, and Lady Jersey.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Several young ladies were showing alarming tendencies to swoon at the sight of the blood upon the floor and upon Miss Ashling’s person, and there were the makings of ‘a scene’.
‘Make way, please; there has been a slight accident. Nothing to cause concern.’ Lord Godmanchester sounded calm and in control, and went before Sir Lucius as far as the nearest door, where a footman, who had been contemplating what viands might be left over to form his own late supper,296sprang to alertness, opened it and led Sir Lucius into the wide passage and then opened the door into a small chamber, where Sir Lucius laid his light burden upon a sofa, kneeling beside her. He dismissed the footman to stand at the door and direct Lady Chalford and his mistress to the room, but his eyes were upon Elizabeth.
She had lost all colour, the whiteness of her skin in sharp contrast to the dark hair, one strand of which lay upon the column of her neck. He knew a desire to move it back into place with a finger, but that seemed strangely indelicate, too intimate a gesture. He concentrated upon the wound. The palm of her left hand bore a deep gash. He pressed the napkin into a tight pad over it, and bound her hand, fingers clenched over the palm, with his own handkerchief. For one or two brief minutes they were totally alone. He looked down at her, and felt that just for this moment she was his, and the need to kiss the injured hand was too much. He lifted it, and his lips just touched the fingertips that tasted slightly of the salty, ferrous taste of blood. Then the door opened, and the private moment was gone. Lady Jersey entered, all concern for one of her guests. Sir Lucius looked up, his face impassive, his voice calm.
‘Lord Godmanchester has told me … oh!’ Lady Jersey saw the red staining on the white linen.
‘The glass broke in Miss Ashling’s hand, ma’am. There is nothing in the wound, but it is deep and bleeds heavily. She should be conveyed home immediately and a surgeon called. I think he is likely to stitch the palm.’
‘Oh dear me!’ Lady Jersey bit her lip. ‘How could such a thing happen?’
297‘Perhaps there was some weakness in the stem, ma’am. I fear I told Miss Ashling something that was a surprise to her, and she must have gripped it more tightly very suddenly. The broken stem cut into her palm.’ Sir Lucius was thinking quickly. Nothing that he said was untrue, and it was important that Miss Ashling did not once again become the subject of wild rumour. He hoped against hope that nobody had overheard what had passed between himself and Miss Ashling, other than Giles Godmanchester, and that the peer’s broad back had shielded the actual incident from onlookers. ‘It could not have been foreseen and … it was a genuine accident, for I was talking with her at the time.’
‘Oh, my poor Elizabeth!’ At this moment Lady Chalford entered the room and her hands went to her cheeks. She swayed for a moment, and Lady Jersey feared she too might faint.
‘Dear Lady Chalford, do be seated. It is most, most unfortunate, but … I will seek out your daughter and bring her to you.’ Lady Jersey was hoping the incident would not mean her party was remembered for the drama rather than being one of the highlights of the Season, and felt her place was among her guests, reassuring and downplaying the whole horrible thing. She gave Lady Chalford a weak smile and flitted away.
‘And I shall go and summon your carriage immediately, Lady Chalford.’ Sir Lucius spoke with authority and calm, which cut through Lady Chalford’s mist of panic. ‘The wound is bound for now, so you may travel to Mount Street without alarm, but please do so straight away, and298summon a surgeon. She will revive very quickly, I assure you.’ His words were reassuring, but his expression very serious.
‘You are sure, Sir Lucius?’
‘Yes, I am sure.’ With which he rose, gave the briefest of bows and left the room, returning a couple of minutes later to find Lady Chalford fanning her niece’s face, Miss Amelia Ashling holding a glass of water and Elizabeth propped up against a velvet cushion, groaning and muzzy. He gave Lady Chalford the information that her carriage awaited below, and since Elizabeth had not revived enough to remonstrate, or indeed be aware of who was present, he brushed aside the footman who was awaiting instructions, and lifted her into his arms once more. He carried her downstairs and placed her tenderly in the waiting vehicle. Only as it drew away did Sir Lucius permit himself the luxury of a deep breath of summer night air. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then turned on his heel to walk home, frowning.
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