A Heart Revealed Part 2

Suzanne could help Amber keep her appearance while Amber sought out a solution to this tragic turn. But Suzanne claimed to have never encountered something like this. There had to be a reason that her hair was dropping off. Was she ill and unaware of it? Perhaps she was not getting enough rest due to the late hours she kept and the number of engagements she accepted-life in London was very different from the pace of life in Somerset. Maybe she was drinking too much wine at dinner parties-something her parents had never allowed prior to her season. Or perhaps she was not drinking enough-some people swore that wine would improve one's health. Perhaps her diet was compromised or, maybe, the pressure she felt at being such an unparallel was taking more of her energy than she'd expected. It was not easy to withstand so much scorn from her rivals night after night, no matter how pretty their manners were when she was in their company.

Amber returned to her place before the mirror and carefully plaited her hair over one shoulder, watching her movements and being mindful not to pull too much against her scalp. She tied the end of the plait with a bit of string Suzanne had left on the dressing table. Looking at her reflection, she could not deny that the thickness was fairly half of the plait she recalled seeing in the mirror at Hampton Grove-that plait had been nearly as thick as her wrist.

Feeling dizzy, Amber blew out the candle before making her way to her bed, where she burrowed under the covers and stared at the darkened walls for quite some time before sleep overtook her.

The last conscious thought she remembered before falling asleep, and the first thought she had when she awakened the next morning, was the one she'd already admitted-no one could know. She would behave as she always did, flirting and complimenting and drawing the eyes of the men of the ton. There would be no change in her behavior, therefore no one would suspect anything amiss. One's reputation was determined by perfect execution of behavior, appearance, and manners. Amber could not let anyone know she was anything less than exactly what she ought to be.

Chapter 5.

Thomas checked the watch pinned to his waistcoat as the hansom cab he'd hired for the ride across town slowed to a stop in front of the Earl of Chariton's London house. It was not quite eleven o'clock, and he hoped the lateness of his arrival for the card party would not offend his hosts, Lord and Lady Chariton-Lord Fenton's parents.

Thomas had meant to arrive earlier but had gone to a ball, which had not been well attended. He'd stayed later than he'd planned so as to dance with as many women as possible and attempt to preserve the evening for the hosts, the Thorntons. He was acquainted with them from Lancas.h.i.+re and therefore knew that their son had recently died following an accident in Scotland. The mourning period had prevented the Thorntons from coming to London until now, leaving them in the unenviable position of trying to find their footing amid people who had been making the rounds for weeks.

As this was their first daughter to be presented, they did not come with many connections to recommend them. The social climate of London during the season could be temperamental at best and prejudicial more often than not, as Thomas had been reminded by Amber Sterlington nearly a fortnight ago. Even with so much distance from the event at Almack's, his neck flushed hot at the reminder of the set down.

He had skipped the Almack's Wednesday night ball last week and decided not to appeal to the patronesses for a May voucher. The embarra.s.sing situation had encouraged him to accept invitations to events with smaller crowds which better suited his personality. He had not missed Almack's for a moment and, in accepting such invitations, had managed to avoid Miss Sterlington almost completely.

Once he stepped down from the carriage, Thomas paid the driver and then straightened his black-and-violet striped silk waistcoat. Fenton's encouragement to purchase a few nicer pieces of clothing had the happy effect of helping Thomas feel more on the level.

"Does no good to look the part of a rustic amid roses, Richards," Fenton had said one afternoon after the two had enjoyed lunch at Brooks. "You don't have to be a dandy to give some attention to fas.h.i.+on." Thomas would have to find a way to thank Fenton for the encouragement without inviting his friend to tease him for it. It could be a tricky business affecting that balance with someone who was as watchful for a joke as Fenton.

Thomas had been to the Earl of Chariton's London house on holiday forays when he and Fenton were attending Oxford, and it appeared much the same: a fenced-in flower garden out front, a wide porch, and two stories above ground. Thomas let himself through the gate and heard the sound of laughter and voices as he made his way up the steps. A footman opened the door to his knock and took Thomas's greatcoat-with only two capes, much to Fenton's dismay-before directing Thomas into the yellow and blue drawing room located at the front of the house and set with four card tables for the evening. Thomas could hear additional voices from down the hall, indicating that Lord Chariton's study must have been opened for the night's entertainment as well.

"Richards!" Fenton said, crossing to him from the fireplace where he stood in conference with Sir Barney Crosby, a man with whom Thomas was newly acquainted. "'Pon my soul I thought you'd snubbed us."

Thomas took Fenton's outstretched hand and gave it a hearty shake. "You have my most sincere apologies, Fenton. I'm afraid I landed at an event slender on gentlemen."

"Ah, had to dance with a bunch of country cousins, eh?"

"Lovely young ladies," Thomas corrected him, then paused as he thought back to some of the women he'd stood up with. "Well, mostly lovely young ladies."

Fenton laughed loudly and took a sip of brandy from the gla.s.s he held. "Let me introduce you to the room," he said, putting a hand on Thomas's back and starting the introductions at the table nearest the door. Many of the guests were familiar and extended him warm welcomes, furthering Thomas's confidence that he would feel at ease amid this group. At the last table was a girl Thomas had seen before but had not been introduced to.

"And this is Miss Laurel Ranbury," Fenton said after introducing the other guests at the table, including the woman's mother, Lady Ranbury. "Sir Ranbury and his family are from Sheffield-isn't that near the jungle you hail from, Thomas?" He raised his eyebrows mockingly, and Thomas shook his head as he turned his attention to the girl at the table who lifted her hand, allowing him to bow over it.

"Lord Fenton is certain that anything north of Nottingham could not possibly be civilized," Thomas explained as he released her hand. "I'm afraid my jungles are even further north than yours. I hail from Northallerton."

"My father's cousin lives in Northallerton," the girl said with amiable confidence. "Mr. Clarence Gordy-do you know him?"

"I do know Mr. Gordy," Thomas said, smiling a bit wider. "He was an a.s.sociate of my father's, though I'm afraid I haven't seen Mr. Gordy since my father's pa.s.sing three summers ago."

"I'm sorry to hear of your father," Miss Ranbury said with a frown. "I'm afraid it's been some time since I've seen my uncle as well. Next time I do, I shall ask after your family . . ."

Thomas picked up the unspoken question once she trailed off. "My father was Walter Richards," he supplied. "Former Lord Fielding, a t.i.tle now held by my eldest brother, Albert."

He was glad to see that her expression didn't falter at his admittance of not having a t.i.tle of his own. He would ask Fenton about Miss Ranbury's family at another time to see if their positions matched. Not because he feared her to be below him, but to make certain that she was not of such a high esteem that his interest would be unwelcome. He was particularly sensitive to such a thing after his attempt to dance with Amber Sterlington.

"It is nice to meet a northern gentleman," Miss Ranbury said with a smile.

"Laurel," Lady Ranbury said from across the table, "either take your turn or find someone to play your hand rather than keep us waiting while you flirt the night away."

"Mama!" Miss Ranbury said, color rising to her cheeks as she looked wide-eyed at her mother. "You are beyond the pale this evening. Lord Fenton, do not give my mother any more to drink. The wine has quite gone to her head and dreadfully affected her manners."

"I shall willingly refuse her pleas for refreshment and drink anything she requests myself to make doubly sure she is denied it," Fenton said, with a sharp bend at the waist. "Pray, excuse us as I continue introductions in the next room. But do come find us when you finish your round, Miss Ranbury. I haven't seen Mr. Richards so engaged in conversation in some time."

The table laughed. Thomas smiled but once they'd exited into the hall on their way to the study, he punched Fenton lightly on the shoulder. "Must you embarra.s.s me in front of everyone?" Thomas said quietly. "It was hard enough to keep my confidence amid new introductions without being thrown to the wolves."

"Oh, don't think of it," Fenton said, waving the gla.s.s in his hand and nearly spilling his drink in the process. "I can only get away with such shameless behavior if I embarra.s.s everyone equally, and I only invite people of the best humor to my parties. You should have heard what I said about Miss Sterlington's hair upon her arrival. I daresay I may have taken that one too far." He laughed at the recollection even as Thomas came to a stop and took hold of Fenton's arm. He pulled Fenton past the yellow and blue drawing room to the small parlor at the front of the house which was lit but unoccupied.

"Amber Sterlington is here?" Thomas asked, glad the alarm didn't show in his voice, though he feared his actions communicated the intensity of his feelings without him having to display it in the tone of his words.

"Most certainly," Fenton said with a wide grin. "I find her vastly enjoyable to look upon, and if you can ignore the headdress she chose for reasons only the angels of heaven can know, she is quite fetching tonight. Green will always be her color, but pink does wonders for her complexion."

Thomas kept his expression stolid, at least he hoped he did, as he took a breath. "Fenton, I have no desire to be acquainted with her. Will you mind ever so much if I leave?"

Fenton's eyebrows leaped up his forehead. "The devil you say! I thought Miss Sterlington was vastly enjoyable for you to look upon as well?"

Thomas had not told Fenton what happened at Almack's but expected his friend to know about it all the same. It had been such an embarra.s.sment that he had a.s.sumed it was interesting enough on-dit that those in view of the situation had spread the tale far and wide. But perhaps the younger son of a Baron being set down by the Darling of the Season was not impressive enough to be whispered about. Thomas hated that he was a bit disappointed by the realization, but then relayed what had happened. Fenton's face showed sincere regret as Thomas concluded his report.

"I surely would not have invited both of you if I had known," Fenton said in the sincere voice Thomas preferred to the dandy tones. "I have no desire to put you in an awkward position, but I'm sure you see that I have managed to put myself in the suds due to my ignorance. I had hoped you would like Miss Ranbury who, though I know she is no great beauty, is a very personable young woman and someone I felt might be just the match for you. Her family does not have airs and are well accepted here in town. For you to leave just after having made her acquaintance would be very bad ton for the both of us."

What a muck-pen, Thomas thought to himself. He considered the truth of Fenton's statement and searched his mind for a remedy. "Perhaps you could spare me the introduction to the second room then, and I shall simply give Miss Sterlington distance on my own as best I can."

Fenton frowned. "I'm afraid my home will not provide the kind of distance you would prefer. I am sincerely sorry. Perhaps another introduction could repair it. There are so many people at Almack's and-"

"I want no further introduction," Thomas said with an adamant shake of his head. "And I am quite happy to take responsibility to avoid her if I can but have your blessing to forgo the convention of your introduction to the other guests in the study."

"Of course," Fenton said. He raised one eyebrow while shaking his head, marking for Thomas the transformation back into the facade he employed amid society. Fenton downed the last of the drink in his hand and smacked his lips, eyeing the now empty gla.s.s. "I believe I am in need of Lady Ranbury's allotted drink. My nerves are raw with all this complication." He waved his hand through the air and made his way to the study where the food and drinks must be laid out while Thomas returned to the drawing room.

When the set at one of the tables finished, Thomas joined the next round. The company could not be more pleasant, and he enjoyed himself almost enough to forget about a certain lady in the other room until he noticed Mr. Pembroke and Sir Crosby straighten in their chairs at the same moment Miss Ranbury lifted her chin. He did not need to turn toward the door to see the cause of the change as the honeyed voice of Amber Sterlington soon washed over him. Much to his dismay, his heart rate increased and the temperature in the room went up by degrees as he pulled his shoulders back and adjusted his position in the chair so he would not appear to be slouching. Blast that abominable woman!

Thomas studied the cards he held. "Sir Crosby, I should like to trade for the miss," he said, even though his hand was adequate.

Miss Sterlington took a seat at the table behind him-far too close for him to attempt to be unaware of her.

"Certainly," Sir Crosby said as all eyes returned to the game. Thomas's table continued through the round though he performed very poorly and then he excused himself from the next set, claiming to be in need of refreshment. He did not look at Miss Sterlington as he left the room to fortify himself with a gla.s.s of brandy and conversation with guests in the study.

"Where are your parents this evening?" Thomas asked Fenton some time later, realizing that neither Lord nor Lady Chariton were in the study as he had expected. Fenton did not live in the London house, of course, instead staying in a very nice set of rooms far enough away to give him privacy. It was odd that he had been put in the position to host a party at his parents' home when they were not even in attendance.

Fenton rolled his eyes. "My father stayed for an hour before excusing himself for another engagement. Mother was not feeling well but stayed on until just before you came. I think London does not go well with her." He frowned, reflecting the close affection he shared with his mother and his obvious concern for her health.

Thomas shared his best wishes for her recovery while not commenting on Lord Chariton's absence. It was ill-mannered for him to have left, but though Thomas found the man personable enough, Fenton made no attempt to show his father any tolerance, and therefore Thomas knew better than to make Lord Chariton the focus of the conversation. Instead, he changed the subject, asking after a visit to Tattersalls that Fenton had mentioned the previous week.

Once enough time had pa.s.sed for Thomas to regain his composure, the need to see Miss Sterlington took him back to the drawing room where he stood in the doorway, sipping his brandy while attempting a casual survey of the room. His eyes could not help but land on Miss Sterlington each time she spoke or laughed. Her voice drew him in like a net, further irritating him each time it did so.

She had shown her character so poorly when she'd dismissed him that he had hoped his reaction to her would have adjusted accordingly. Obviously it was not enough to know she was highbrow, rude, and unpleasant. He stood behind her, out of her sight unless she looked to the doorway, but in full view of the back of her head and the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders. He was close enough to hear her voice and, perhaps, smell her perfume, though he couldn't be sure it was hers.

Her gown was quite lovely, just as Fenton had said. It was a muted shade of pink fitted high with fine lace along the collar and puffed sleeves. Pearls defined the bodice, which accentuated her womanly figure that drew far too much interest from the men in the room. She wore more daring necklines than most debutantes, and yet received no judgment for it, which was both interesting and irritating. Certainly the males of the species would not be so attentive to her if she dressed with a bit more modesty. Yet even as he attempted to place the blame on her, he knew he was the one in keeping of his own thoughts and ought not to blame her manner of dress for his own weakness.

He moved his attention to the headdress Fenton had found so worthy of teasing. It was an arrangement of ribbons, beads, and flowers, which almost looked like a hat, though it was not. While overdone compared to the relatively conservative nature of her dress, it didn't seem particularly disagreeable. Her hair still shone like dark embers beneath the recently installed gas lights, and her eyes glittered most beautifully when she turned her head enough for Thomas to see her face in profile.

Thomas forced himself to look away and was glad he had when he saw Miss Ranbury glance toward him and give him a small smile. He smiled back and hoped she hadn't noted his inspection of Miss Sterlington. Comparing the beauty of the two women was unfair by half, and he had no desire to make Miss Ranbury feel small. Miss Ranbury returned to her game, and Thomas watched her a bit longer, but his eyes were drawn back to Miss Sterlington the next time she spoke. Luckily, he was in better control of his reaction and thoughts. In fact, rather than ponder on his own mind, he found himself wondering at hers.

She was seated next to Lord Norwin; the very man she had refused Thomas for at Almack's. The two of them sat very close together, and Thomas realized that Lord Norwin was attempting to teach Miss Sterlington the finer points of loo. Odd, since loo was thought of as a woman's game, making it appropriate for mixed company and penny bets.

A quick glance across the room revealed the other Miss Sterlington-Miss Darra-seated at a different table and seeming to handle her game quite sufficiently. She glanced at him but looked away before he had the chance to acknowledge her notice. He wondered if she remembered him from Almack's and hoped that she did not.

"So, I want to play the highest spade, my lord?" Miss Sterlington asked her teacher in consternation, her voice an octave higher than usual, more girlish. From Thomas's position he could not see her face, but he could see her cards over her shoulder. She held the jack of spades, a very good card for a simple pool round when spades were the leading suit.

"Right you are," Lord Norwin said. "If you haven't a spade, you must discard something else."

"Oh pooh," she said with a pout and removed the queen of hearts from her hand-a card she ought to hold on to in case hearts were played in another round. "I'm sure I'll never learn to play this game," she said, casually keeping her cards away from Lord Norwin's gaze even as he leaned toward her in such a way as to invite her to let him see.

Thomas watched the game progress as again and again Miss Sterlington intentionally set herself at a disadvantage. He could have accused her of cheating except that she was losing. Each time she lost a hand or withdrew-most times without need-she pouted and then revived amid the compliments of the other players on the table-all of whom, Thomas noted, were men quite enraptured by her grievances.

When one of the men won the round, she laid the compliments on rather thick, remarking on their fine skill and astute play. Considering the moves she'd chosen, it was not difficult to ascertain that Miss Sterlington understood the game; she had to know the rules well in order to play so poorly.

What a fascinating act she is playing out for them, Thomas thought as he noted how the men's opinions of themselves seemed to rise with her compliments. With the realization of her manipulation came a sense of relief to know that she was making a different kind of fool of these men than she had with him. What would they say if they knew?

"Will you join us, Mr. Richards?"

Thomas looked away from Miss Sterlington's table to see Lady Ranbury's eyebrows lifted in invitation. She was an older version of her daughter with a genuine air about her.

"I would be pleased to join if you've an open seat," Thomas said, moving toward the table.

An older gentleman rose and made a joke about trading his seat for Thomas's gla.s.s of brandy.

"You're welcome to it," Thomas said, holding out his gla.s.s.

The man laughed. "I was teasing you, my man."

"Were you?" Thomas replied as though surprised. "You do not want brandy that's been adequately warmed by my hand?"

The man laughed again, as did the rest of the table. "I'll get myself a double in the next room and return ready to best the lot of you." He made an exaggerated motion of glaring at the table, and they all laughed at his joke.

Thomas took the abandoned seat and enjoyed two rounds before the strain of being attentive to his game while listening to Miss Sterlington at the next table began to give him a headache. The gentleman whose seat he'd taken returned to the drawing room, giving Thomas the opportunity to make his good-byes, stealthily avoiding Miss Sterlington's table. She did not look up at him despite the occupants of the room taking a turn in their farewells, and once Thomas quit the room he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Her laugh followed him out, as did Fenton.

"You behaved admirably," Fenton said when they were quite a distance from anyone who might overhear the exchange. "I hope you were able to enjoy yourself despite the discomfort."

"I'm grateful for the invitation and even more grateful to have stayed. Thank you for being a man of honor about the situation."

"You had a good time, then?"

It was rare for Thomas to see Fenton in need of rea.s.surance, which proved to him what a good friend Fenton truly was to be so concerned for Thomas's comfort. "I did, my friend," he said. "Perhaps we could luncheon tomorrow and you could help me know how best to go about furthering my acquaintance with Miss Ranbury."

Fenton's face broke into a full smile. "I knew you would like her. Shall we say one o'clock at my club?"

"That would be ideal," Thomas said with a nod as the footman helped him into his coat and hat. "Until then."

Thomas had to walk a few blocks before he could signal a hansom cab, but as he did so he reviewed the evening and allowed himself some modest pride at having endured what could have been a most uncomfortable experience. That he'd gained a different perspective on Miss Sterlington was not the least of his accomplishments, and it set his mind at ease a great deal to know that he could never have been happy with a woman so false. Beauty could never be as important to him as character.

Chapter 6.

May It had been two weeks since Suzanne had first used the stockings in Amber's hair, and as Amber watched her maid's face in the mirror she had to fight back tears.

"It is worse, isn't it?" she asked in a soft voice, worn-out with the worry and concern that had plagued her day and night since first discovering the blight that had come upon her. She'd been mindful of all the things she'd promised to reverence: sleep, healthy foods, and avoiding late nights. She'd read of a recommendation that an increase of meat in one's diet could result in thick and s.h.i.+ny hair, and she had more than once made herself sick in her attention to the ham and beef and poultry she'd asked her mother to add to the cook's menus.

Given her specific attention to her health, she had come to realize that she felt vital and strong; she was not fatigued or achy, nor was she feeling dull witted. Her body felt as well as ever, but her hair continued to shed every night, including tonight, when she feared she would not be able to leave the house at all.

Suzanne had used increasing amounts of ribbon, flowers, and all manner of accessories, often spending hours to complete a style that was merely pa.s.sable. Amber no longer accepted afternoon engagements so that Suzanne could have the extra time for her styling before she dressed for the evening. It did not escape Amber's notice that the compliments to her hair, once so frequently made, had decreased now that the use of the hidden stockings had become a daily occurrence. The only time she was without them was when she could expect to wear a bonnet for the duration of an event.

Tonight, Amber was to attend the opera in the Earl of Sunther's box. He had returned to London three nights ago and sought Amber out at once. Their parents were connected and a match between them would be acceptable by all parties. His attention gave her confidence that she had not lost her appeal, and she was relieved that the flamboyant expectations of opera dress could countenance even more elaborate accessories to disguise the increased thinness of her hair. However, it had been nearly two hours since the maid had begun attempting a suitable coiffure only to undo it and start again several times.

"It is worse," Amber said again, anxious for her maid to give her a.s.surance that she was mistaken.

"I cannot hide the stocking completely." She met Amber's eyes. "What about a turban, Miss? I'm told they are all the rage."

Earlier in the season, Amber would never have considered such a matronly affectation. "Can you conform to a style that will allow some of my hair to show through?"

"I could create two or three ringlets down the back," Suzanne suggested as she began removing the pins she had placed and taking out the ribbon. "It would look as though it were a portion of your hair."

When her hair was down again, Amber looked at her reflection and blinked back tears. The area on the back of her head that Suzanne had first made her aware of was now larger, and another had formed above her left ear, allowing Amber to see her scalp through the hair that fell over it. The color of her hair looked brighter than it had when there was more of it-but more orange than auburn and not nearly as rich. In a word, she looked wretched, like a decrepit old woman on the edge of death.

Am I dying? she asked herself as Suzanne brushed the newly-shed hair from her fingers and ap.r.o.n. As had become her habit, she picked the hair from the floor and disposed of it in a linen pillowcase she'd procured for this very purpose-there was too much hair to fit in the box any longer. Suzanne excused herself from the room to retrieve a length of silk that would work for the turban, and by the time the maid returned, Amber was wiping at the tears she'd been unable to hold back.

"There, there," Suzanne said, awkwardly patting Amber's shoulder. "I promise it will look lovely. You'll be the envy of every girl there, but I cannot remedy a splotchy face and swollen eyes."

"I shall not be the envy of anyone." Amber wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief she had found in the top drawer.

Perhaps it was time to ask for her mother's help, but the idea frightened her. Admitting a fault to Lady Marchent filled her with dread. What would her mother say? Would she blame Amber? Was it blame that Amber deserved?

She thought back to the counsel her mother had given her about tempting fate by drawing out the attentions of eligible men. If only Amber had not delayed her season. Had she come out last year, she would be established already. Had she not been so determined to enjoy herself in London this year, she could have secured a match by now. Already it was May; the season was half over.

"See there, Miss, it's lovely. Look at how it draws out the color of your eyes."

Amber looked at her reflection, the tears nearly dried though her eyes were still pink around the edges. The silk Suzanne had found was a soft gold, with s.h.i.+mmers of silver throughout. The maid did not build the turban high, but kept it close to Amber's head. She finished by pus.h.i.+ng a white and a green feather into the folds.