Page 83 of A Much Maligned Miss

Gervaise proceeded to an elegant cabinet filled with cut glass decanters and bottles. “Your bad dreams stayed with you?” he asked casually, unstoppering a bottle of brandy. “I hoped they might dissipate in the cold light of day.” Romulus jumped up onto a chair and started washing his face as Remus lay on his side before the roaring fire.

“Gervaise,” Caroline said faintly. “Where has all this furniture come from?”

He glanced about as if only just noticing it. “Oh, I ordered it the other day. There was a two-day wait for delivery.”

Her jaw dropped. “It’s beautiful!” she breathed. “Now I really do feel like a kept woman in sumptuous apartments.”

His hand paused in the act of pouring out his drink. He pulled a face. “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.”

“Oh, sorry. I—well, I just mean that all the pieces are so exquisite,” she said admiringly, stroking the luxurious brocade upholstery and polished wood. “You have such lovely taste.”

“That is my reputation.” He moved to a French-style sofa and flipped the tails of his coat before seating himself there. “Come and sit with me and tell me about these nightmares you had,” he said, patting the seat.

Caroline drifted toward him. “Is that a new workbox for me?” she asked incredulously, pointing to a splendid sewing box placed on a chest of drawers.

“Yes. Now tell me it is quite ten times as spectacular as the one Blanche Pebmarsh uses and I will be well satisfied.”

She gave an uncertain laugh. “I don’t even know what Blanche’s looks like, but this is sure to be far superior. It looks to be fit for a princess.” When she started toward it, he made a noise of disapproval in his throat.

“You can examine it tomorrow at your leisure. For now, come here. I want to talk to you.”

She sank down onto the sofa next to him. “Gervaise,” she said solemnly. “You should not spoil me so much.”

“Why should I not?”

“Well, because—” Because she would feel the contrast too cruelly when he no longer cared for her, she realized but could not say. It would be horribly easy to tell when his affections cooled, she thought, swallowing. He was so indulgent now, and so generous. When the time came, would he retreat into the cold aloofness she remembered him displaying when first she met him? The thought chilled her.

It seemed so long ago that he had been that mocking, arrogant creature she had avoided at Vance Park. She remembered how dismayed she had been that day he had interrupted her and Teddy playing with the toy soldiers. How her heart had sank at the sight of him. Whereas now it fluttered and swooped and soared… Oh dear, she thought. Why was that? Why did—?

“Did you finish your little doll?” he asked carefully, watching her face.

“Doll?” she repeated distractedly. “Oh, no. I wasn’t making the peg into a doll. Recollect, Teddy already has the doll,” she said nervously. “Miss Pinson made it for him.”

“The doll’s dress, then?” he asked steadily, his eyes looking right into hers.

“Er…no. It… Well, it turned out to be a lot more delicate and elaborate than I initially realized. I got rather carried away in truth,” she confessed in a rush. “It will take several hours’ work to complete.”

“I am not surprised,” he said quietly. “It looked like a labor of love.”

She felt her face turn crimson with embarrassment, though why she should be embarrassed at creating a doll’s bridal trousseau she could not say. Except…she was also Miss Pomfrey, was she not? She had adopted the pseudonym many times now.

Did Gervaise suspect her frilly invention was a case of wish fulfilment? A substitute for the wedding gown she would never have? Her eyes filled suddenly with embarrassed tears. So stupid! Why was she acting like this? She felt quite cross with herself. Blinking them away, she said quickly, “And now I can use my new workbox to finish it.”

“Tell me about these dreams,” he said, drawing his cigarette case out of his jacket pocket. “I want to hear all about them.”

Caroline breathed out a sigh of relief. This was much safer ground altogether.

33

“A solicitor’s letter?” Gervaise repeated, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Sophy placed the envelope by my plate, and I had scarcely read the direction when Mama’s hand snatched it away—”

“What makes you think it was a solicitor’s letter?” Gervaise interrupted her.

“I—” She paused, looking suddenly confounded. “Did I say a solicitor’s letter?” she echoed in surprise. “I have no idea why I said that! I did not see the contents at all.” She gave her head a quick shake. “How peculiar! I am not usually so fanciful as to make things up like that.”

“Perhaps the envelope was stamped or had the direction of a return address,” Gervaise suggested.