Rakehell's Widow by Sandra Heath Read Free Book Online

me.”
    Octavia grinned. “That, my dear, was a bucket of cold water.” Her taffeta skirts rustled as she went to the door, which Sanderson hurried to open for her. “Oh, by the way, Alabeth….”
    “Yes?”
    “See that Charles Allister is on your list. We must pair him off with Jillian!”
    Alabeth laughed and Octavia went on out, but as the outer door closed, the smile faded a little from Alabeth’s face. A flaw in Robert’s character which would have emerged sooner or later, whether Piers Castleton had been there or not? No, Octavia was wrong, the flaw had emerged because Piers had been there….
     

Chapter 6
     
    Jillian emerged from her room in time for a light luncheon of wine and wafers, but it was soon obvious that her morning of seclusion had left her in a stormy mood, for she was determined not to show enthusiasm for anything at all. Alabeth tried to behave as if the previous day had not happened, hoping that this gesture of peace would be received in the manner with which it was offered, but all fell on stony ground. A discussion about which invitations to accept and which names to place on various lists was conducted in a stilted manner which made the whole con versation impossible, and Alabeth gave up long before any mention was made of what arrangements Jillian would like for her own ball. The only time a flicker of interest entered Jillian’s blue eyes was at the mention of Octavia’s ball and the fact that Count Adam Zaleski would play there for the first time in England.
    In desperation Alabeth decided to order the landau for an afternoon drive in Hyde Park, and so at the appointed hour of four the two sisters drove out to join the fashionable throng parading there. It was a beautiful day, perfect late-spring weather, and the air was filled with the scent of flowers and young leaves. The sun shone down from a clear blue sky and there was a lighthearted atmosphere in the capital as England set about enjoying this first peacetime summer for many years, but in the Earl of Wall borough’s elegant carriage the atmosphere was anything but lighthearted.
    Jillian wasn’t smiling, although even Alabeth could tell that she was finding it an effort to remain so sulky. Really she was being very tiresome and difficult, determined to keep the feud simmering at all costs. She looked quite enchanting in her fresh white muslin gown and rose pelisse, the front edges of which were perfectly frilled, and her face was framed by a straw country bonnet tied on with a gauze scarf. Her golden curls were fluffy and there was some thing quite captivating about her, as the admiring glances of a number of young gentlemen gave proof. For Alabeth’s benefit, Jillian kept her eyes lowered, but she could not help glancing up coquettishly now and then, being a natural flirt and unable to resist practicing her wiles on every personable man to catch her eye.
    Alabeth felt quite low-spirited, although she managed to hide the fact behind a smiling exterior, for nothing would have let her reveal to Jillian how much the atmosphere was reaching her. She attracted her fair share of attention, for she looked very fetching in a lemon lawn gown, an em broidered mustard spencer, and a yellow chip hat, her hair dressed so that a heavy red ringlet tumbled down over one shoulder. A pagoda parasol twirled behind her, its silken fringe trembling to the motion of the carriage.
    “I say! Alabeth!” A man was hailing her.
    She turned toward the sound, and her face broke into a warm smile as she saw Charles Allister and a companion riding swiftly toward the landau, but her smile faltered as they came closer and she saw that the companion was Sir Piers Castleton.
    Charles was a pale, slender young man, his looks more those of a poet than of a man of action, and he smiled shyly as he reined in, removing his hat. “I was calling you for some time. I began to think you were cutting me.”
    “As if I would do that. How are you, Charles?”
    “In the