It had affected him more than that, she could tell. There was something behind the light words and the laughter. Sadness, self-reproach and perhaps something that would help heal that old wound.
‘Never mind, it all came out well in the end.’ What Alistair was thinking about, she had no idea, but the thought of Evaline’s happiness warmed her right through.
‘Your little sister is marrying before you,’ Alistair said, moving along the chaise and closing the distance between them until she could feel the warmth of his thigh pressing against hers. ‘Why not make your parents doubly happy and give in? You know you will eventually.’
‘Why is what I want not enough for you?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you not believe that I think this would be very wrong? Are you so arrogant that you believe that women should have no opinions of their own?’
‘No!’ He flung himself to his feet and paced away from her. ‘You must know that I value your intelligence and your courage and your wit. But this is not a matter of choice, this is a matter of right and wrong. I did something unforgivable and it can only be righted by marrying you.’
‘I forgive you,’ she said starkly.
‘If you marry anyone else, he will not.’
‘You wanted to make love to me on the ship, even though you believed I had lost my virginity with Stephen. You didn’t appear to mind that!’
‘I wasn’t thinking of marrying you then,’ he shot back.
His words told her nothing that she did not already know. Why then did it feel as though he had slapped her? Because it came from his own mouth, she realised, the confirmation that he did not love her, despite the pitiful fantasies that came in the early hours, the dream that really, he did care with his heart and not just with his head and his honour.
She felt the prickling heat behind her eyes and knew, horrified, that she was about to cry.
Then the door opened and her parents came in with Evaline and James Morgan. Alistair stood up. ‘You will want to be alone. We’ll meet tomorrow, Morgan, as we agreed.’
‘My lord.’ The young man looked faintly stunned, Dita thought as she sat digging her nails into her palms in an effort to control the tears.
‘Lyndon, I insist,’ Alistair said, shaking hands all round as he made his way to the door. When he got to Evaline he stopped and kissed her. ‘You be happy now, even in ten years’ time when he is old.’
Evaline blushed and laughed and came to sit next to Dita. Dita squeezed her hand and whispered, ‘What was that about?’
‘He overheard me saying he was old,’ Evaline hissed back. ‘Wasn’t that awful? I could have died, but he did this for us!’ They hugged tightly, then Evaline disentangled herself. ‘Dita, this is James.’
‘Congratulations,’ Dita said, kissing him on the cheek. Her own cheeks felt as though they were cracking with the effort to smile. ‘I know you will make my sister very happy.’
‘I swear I will, Lady Perdita. I confess, I am stunned by my good fortune. You know Lord Iwerne well, I believe? I heard how he saved you in the shipwreck. Is he always this generous?’
‘Call me Dita. I believe that he will always want to reward the deserving if it is in his power. You obviously impressed him, he is fond of Evaline and you seem to be the sort of man he needs to assist him. But he will not be an easy employer, I imagine—he sets his standards high and expects a lot.’
‘He’ll get it from me,’ Morgan vowed, his eyes full of passionate devotion as he looked at Evaline. ‘And I will never let Evaline down.’
For two nights running she saw Alistair at the social events they both attended: a soirée followed by a ball one night, a full dress dinner the next. Dita noticed that he paid a great deal of attention to attractive widows in their late twenties and early thirties, of whom there were half a dozen in society this Season. She tried to tell herself that this was a good thing: well-bred, worldly-wise women who knew how to go on in society and who presumably knew enough to keep him faithful for more than a few months. The fact that she wanted to scratch their eyes out, especially the very lovely Mrs Somerton, was neither here nor there.
Watching him made her feel restless and reckless. Perhaps, she wondered, eyeing the rakish-looking stranger who had been seated almost opposite her at Lady Pershaw’s dinner party, she should flirt a little herself. She always had flirted, and enjoyed it, but since she had been back in England, she realised she had lost the taste for it. It might take her mind off a certain amber-eyed gentleman who was watching Eliza Somerton with lazy appreciation.
The stranger was a little taller than Francis Wynstanley, although of much the same colouring, and he had well-defined cheekbones, a square chin and deep blue eyes which, just now, were staring back at her. Their eyes locked and Dita let hers widen a little, just enough to show interest, before she looked away and began to discuss church politics with the nice, and very dull, rural dean who sat on her left. Was that enough to pique his interest? Well, time would tell.
Chapter Twenty
The gentlemen rejoined the ladies less than an hour after the covers were drawn, for Lady Pershaw liked a lively party and had given her husband strict instructions not to dally over the port.
Alistair, Dita noticed, went straight to Mrs Somerton, who was looking particularly lovely in golden brown silk with cream lace accentuating white shoulders and an adventurous degree of décolletage. She was making him laugh.
Out of patience with her own inability to forget, and wishing she did not care about either him, or his amours, Dita looked for the blue-eyed stranger and found he was watching her.
She looked sideways and caught the full force of a very blatant stare. ‘Who is that?’ she asked Maria Pershaw, a young lady who could be relied upon to know all the gentlemen. ‘By the music stand.’
‘Sir Rafe Langham,’ Maria said. ‘Delicious, is he not? He is said to be highly dangerous and Mama has strictly forbidden me to flirt with him, which is so provoking of her.’ She laughed and moved on and Perdita deliberately turned her back and drifted over to the long windows that were ajar on to the terrace to let in some fresh air.
‘Lost, my lady?’ a deep voice enquired.