ow that she’d made such a horrible muddle of things?
Because there had to be a way to make things right, there just had to be, or else she would simply die. She had to find some way to convince Bailey that she understood the great pressure he was under to rescue his family, and how he would not wish her to spend her life in perilous poverty simply because he loved her, and that she shouldn’t have asked a question that had no basis in reality in the first place. Because, in the second place, she was wealthy, and he did love her, and she did love him, and what was wrong with any of that, for pity’s sake? But how could she convince Bailey she understood all of that now…now that she’d made such a muddle of things?
“I think I’m feeling the beginnings of a headache,” Kate said some half hour of such muddled and at times tearful statements later, rubbing at her left temple as she stared into her empty cup. “But I think I have a solution for you. Well, not precisely me, but you know how brilliant Trixie is, and I think I know just what she would say to do. But perhaps not. It’s—it’s rather, well…no, I probably shouldn’t say.”
Alana leaned forward in her chair. “Yes? Please, Kate, don’t hesitate now. Tell me.”
That was just before her innocent blue eyes got wide as saucers.
“But first, Alana, I think you need to speak with somebody else,” Kate said when Alana at last recovered enough to reach for a biscuit. Not that she was hungry; she might never eat again. But she had to do something, or else Kate might repeat herself, or worse, go into embarrassing detail.
“I scarcely think I should go from person to person, presenting your solution for their opinions,” she said, and then took another large bite of biscuit.
“That wasn’t what I meant, but all right,” Kate said, shrugging her shoulders as she got to her feet, clearly having decided this conversation was over. “You aren’t me, and I’m not you. I’m probably even mean. But if I were you, I’d get dressed, go downstairs and put a flea in Sylvia Wise’s ear before Gideon comes to take her away, at the very least. Just to make myself feel better.”
Kate’s final words on the subject repeated themselves in Alana’s ears (both of them) as she bathed and dressed and made her way downstairs an hour later.
She went first to the main drawing room, and then to the breakfast room, and finally to the music room—not that she was actively looking for Sylvia Wise. She was simply wandering about aimlessly, a lady of leisure, a—oh, all right, she admitted to herself. She was hunting, and all that was missing was enlisting one of the Redgrave hounds to help point the way to her quarry.
And there she was, sitting like Little Miss Muffet, all snug on her tuffet…or at least looking very much at her ease on the settee.
“Good morning, Miss Wise,” Alana said with more confidence than she felt.
Sylvia Wise slowly turned her head to smile at Alana. “How wonderful of you to join me, Miss Wallingford. I had so feared I might have abused your sensibilities with my candor of the other day. I’m being banished, you know, even though my intentions were entirely honorable.”
“Oh, they were not,” Alana said, quickly losing her discomfort as she mentally took off her gloves, more than ready for some plain speech. “Bailey chose me over you, and you wanted to get some of your own back for the slight by making me feel terrible and perhaps even withdrawing from the betrothal. Did you really think he’d then come running back to you?”
Sylvia’s startlingly blue eyes narrowed as she slowly got to her feet and faced Alana across the expanse of carpet. “Come running back to me? You foolish little girl. He’s never left me. I…do things for him you could never do. Your fortune is larger, that’s all. But we have an understanding, your betrothed and I. I even prefer it, as marriage is my mother’s idea, not mine. I enjoy my freedom, and a variety of lovers, each with his own talents.
“Indeed, your marriage is to my benefit, as long as Bailey continues to pleasure me when I call for him. I admit to some worry, initially, but having seen you for myself, pasty-faced little innocent that you are, I’m no longer concerned that we won’t simply continue on as we began so many months ago.”
This was it: the moment. The moment when Alana would either crumble or soar, the moment when what she wanted to believe and what she believed would war with each other, with only one feeling emerging the victor.
She blinked a time or two.
She smiled.
And then she laughed. Laughed in real amusement, and not a small portion of relief.
Sylvia Wise’s cheeks turned an angry red. “It’s true! Every word! What are you laughing at, you silly twit?”
Alana sobered, not without effort. “You,” she said frankly. “I’m laughing at you, Miss Not-So-Wise. And myself, for ever being so silly as to think you were anything Bailey could ever care for, even if you were covered in gold and your teeth were made out of diamonds. He never proposed marriage to you because he couldn’t love you, much as he loves his family. I doubt he even much likes you; I know I certainly don’t. Good day to you, madam, I’ve wasted more than enough time on you.”
“Wait! You can’t—”
Alana turned back to the woman. “Oh, and one thing more. You will kindly complain of illness and take to your chamber until such time as my guardian boosts you on your way back to London, you and your mother both. Because you won’t care for the public stagecoach, which is where you will find yourself if I see you again. Understood?”
Alana didn’t wait for the woman’s answer, because she didn’t need to hear it, but only lifted her chin and walked out of the room, slowly and deliberately…before all but skipping down the hallway to the French doors leading out to the gardens.
Sunday evening she would become a woman, yes, but she believed she might already be halfway there.
CHAPTER FOUR
BAILEY HADN’T REALIZED how uncomfortable he’d been with Sylvia Wise and her mother in residence until they’d gone. He knew he hadn’t been happy, but never had a leave-taking made him feel more ebullient. He wondered how Sylvia would feel if she knew how much she brightened a room just by leaving it.
Gideon Redgrave had been and gone, but not before delivering a pithy, ear-burning bedside lecture to his brother Valentine on the merits of his mouth consulting with his brain before it opened, especially when it was a beautiful woman seeking his assistance. He’d then imperiously—Gideon was brilliant at being imperious—gathered up Sylvia Wise and her reluctant mother, and surprised everyone by ordering one of the lesser coaches for them, saying that he’d planned to travel to London by horseback in any case, and then escort his grandmother to Redgrave House in her own coach.
So much for any of Lady Wise’s possible thoughts about bracketing her Sylvia to the infamous Earl of Saltwood (she’d actually said she never believed those rumors about him murdering people anyway, or at least not enough to toss away the chance to be mother to a countess).