rescuing her, and at the same time she resented him.
The fact was, she could not put the rescue out of her mind. The image of Lord Cranford’s striking eyes and the vivid sensation of his strong arms wrapped around her invaded all her thoughts. Her inability to banish them was ridiculous!
She had actually caught herself thinking that if he was indeed the blackmailer, perhaps marriage to him would not be so terrible. A harebrained notion! Only a heartless, unscrupulous blackguard would resort to such a tactic as blackmail. The man had to be morally bankrupt, not to mention avaricious and cruel! The fact that she considered such a marriage for even a moment proved how thoroughly Lord Cranford had confused her. She was sorry to think that Nicholas was such a poor judge of friends, but who else could be the villain? Lord Cranford was the only stranger among them. All the other guests had been handpicked by her father and Aunt Alice and were well-known among the
haut ton.
A light rap on her door brought her back to the present. Vivian entered, her face showing a perfect mixture of surprise, concern, and reproval.
“Netia! You are not even dressed. Aunt Alice is already gathering everyone. Are you feeling unwell? I hardly knew what to think when you did not wish any company for breakfast.”
How can I explain?
Venetia thought. She had never held anything back from her twin before now, but Vivian did not share her suspicions about Lord Cranford. Vivian had not felt the viscount’s arms around her, or looked up into those eyes at a moment when time seemed to stand still. How could Vivi possibly understand the confusion that was tormenting her?
“Where is Millie? Did you send her out? Shall I help you to dress instead?” Vivian asked. “I guess I had better. You are standing there as if you have forgotten how to move.”
Venetia sighed. Not sharing her trouble with her sister made her feel even worse. “I wish we could swap places, Vivi. You could be me and I could suffer an attack of ‘delicate nerves,’ as father calls it, and stay in my room all day.”
Of course she didn’t mean it. She said it unthinkingly, more to herself than to her sister, but Vivian looked stricken. “Oh, Netia. What a terrible thing to wish for! Anyway, I wouldn’t dare to take your place. What if I had a seizure?”
Venetia rushed across to hug her sister, her own frustrations swept aside. “I wasn’t serious, Vivi! You know I’ll always stand by you. If I could wish for anything, it would be that you could be cured. Or that the accident never happened, so we could have Mama back, too.”
If she was utterly, ruthlessly honest, Venetia had to admit that a tiny spark of envy did lurk somewhere in her dark side—a horrible, unattractive reality. Just occasionally she did wish she could have an excuse to get away from everything the way Vivian could when she suffered a seizure. Venetia had cast herself in the role of caretaker, but sometimes she grew weary of the part—indeed, sometimes she felt as though the weight of it might actually break her. When she was tempted to throw off that mantle, she would think of the burden that Vivian carried and knew that her own would never be so heavy.
“Here, do help me to dress,” she said to break the awkward moment. “I don’t know what is the matter with me this morning. This gown is a good choice for today, is it not? Just the right color—blue for ‘blue-deviled.’ Perhaps I am just discouraged that we have made so little progress in our investigations. We are no closer to discovering either our poet or our blackmailer than when we started.”
Vivian gathered up the walking dress and held it up at arm’s length. “Is that what was bothering you last night? You were very quiet again at dinner, and you were paying very little attention while we played charades and anagrams. Why, Netia, you did not even thank Lord Cranford for rescuing you from the river—I noticed that you did not
The fact was, she could not put the rescue out of her mind. The image of Lord Cranford’s striking eyes and the vivid sensation of his strong arms wrapped around her invaded all her thoughts. Her inability to banish them was ridiculous!
She had actually caught herself thinking that if he was indeed the blackmailer, perhaps marriage to him would not be so terrible. A harebrained notion! Only a heartless, unscrupulous blackguard would resort to such a tactic as blackmail. The man had to be morally bankrupt, not to mention avaricious and cruel! The fact that she considered such a marriage for even a moment proved how thoroughly Lord Cranford had confused her. She was sorry to think that Nicholas was such a poor judge of friends, but who else could be the villain? Lord Cranford was the only stranger among them. All the other guests had been handpicked by her father and Aunt Alice and were well-known among the
haut ton.
A light rap on her door brought her back to the present. Vivian entered, her face showing a perfect mixture of surprise, concern, and reproval.
“Netia! You are not even dressed. Aunt Alice is already gathering everyone. Are you feeling unwell? I hardly knew what to think when you did not wish any company for breakfast.”
How can I explain?
Venetia thought. She had never held anything back from her twin before now, but Vivian did not share her suspicions about Lord Cranford. Vivian had not felt the viscount’s arms around her, or looked up into those eyes at a moment when time seemed to stand still. How could Vivi possibly understand the confusion that was tormenting her?
“Where is Millie? Did you send her out? Shall I help you to dress instead?” Vivian asked. “I guess I had better. You are standing there as if you have forgotten how to move.”
Venetia sighed. Not sharing her trouble with her sister made her feel even worse. “I wish we could swap places, Vivi. You could be me and I could suffer an attack of ‘delicate nerves,’ as father calls it, and stay in my room all day.”
Of course she didn’t mean it. She said it unthinkingly, more to herself than to her sister, but Vivian looked stricken. “Oh, Netia. What a terrible thing to wish for! Anyway, I wouldn’t dare to take your place. What if I had a seizure?”
Venetia rushed across to hug her sister, her own frustrations swept aside. “I wasn’t serious, Vivi! You know I’ll always stand by you. If I could wish for anything, it would be that you could be cured. Or that the accident never happened, so we could have Mama back, too.”
If she was utterly, ruthlessly honest, Venetia had to admit that a tiny spark of envy did lurk somewhere in her dark side—a horrible, unattractive reality. Just occasionally she did wish she could have an excuse to get away from everything the way Vivian could when she suffered a seizure. Venetia had cast herself in the role of caretaker, but sometimes she grew weary of the part—indeed, sometimes she felt as though the weight of it might actually break her. When she was tempted to throw off that mantle, she would think of the burden that Vivian carried and knew that her own would never be so heavy.
“Here, do help me to dress,” she said to break the awkward moment. “I don’t know what is the matter with me this morning. This gown is a good choice for today, is it not? Just the right color—blue for ‘blue-deviled.’ Perhaps I am just discouraged that we have made so little progress in our investigations. We are no closer to discovering either our poet or our blackmailer than when we started.”
Vivian gathered up the walking dress and held it up at arm’s length. “Is that what was bothering you last night? You were very quiet again at dinner, and you were paying very little attention while we played charades and anagrams. Why, Netia, you did not even thank Lord Cranford for rescuing you from the river—I noticed that you did not
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