Petals in the Storm by Mary Jo Putney Page A
Authors: Mary Jo Putney
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comment that you have personal experience of his grace's skills?"
The girl ducked her head in agreement. She must be at least twenty-five, not really a girl, but her guileless air made her seem younger. "My name is Cynthia Northwood. Rafe was ... very kind to me earlier in my marriage, when I needed kindness."
Intrigued, Maggie asked, "And now your marriage is better and you longer need kindness?"
"No," Cynthia said, her wide brown eyes hardening, "now my marriage is nothing to me, and I have found kindness elsewhere."
Maggie sighed inwardly. It was one of the curses and blessings of her life that people felt compelled to tell her their innermost secrets. Even total strangers like this artless chit seemed to assume that she would offer good advice, or at least an understanding ear.
A talent for getting people to talk was an asset to a spy, but did she really want to hear about the Duke of Candover's amorous prowess from his former mistresses? In an effort to head off more confidences, she said, "I am Magda, Countess Janos, but perhaps you know that already."
"Oh, yes, everyone seems to know you. I've been admiring you since you came in. You have such presence. You and Rafe are the handsomest couple here. He seemed so absorbed in you, not like he is with most women."
How could one be insulted by such a naive tribute? Nonetheless, Maggie said severely, "Mrs. Northwood, don't you know how improper such remarks are?"
Cynthia flushed again. "My wretched tongue! My mother died when I was very small, and my father always encouraged me to speak my mind in the most unladylike manner. And ... and my friend Major Brewer likes it, too. He says I'm not missish, like most women. Truly, I mean no insult," she said earnestly. "But I am very fond of Rafe, and he looked happy with you. I don't think he is happy very often."
Intrigued against her better judgment, Maggie said, "Surely Candover has everything a man could want: birth, wealth, intelligence, enough charm and address for three men. What makes you think he is not happy?"
"He always seems a little bored. Perfectly polite, but not really caring about what he does. Of course," she added sadly, "perhaps that was just how he was with me. I know he never thought I was interesting, I was nowhere near intelligent enough for him. He only got involved with me because he had nothing better to do at the time."
Maggie listened to Cynthia's speech with horrified fascination and a certain respect. Perhaps there was more to the girl than had been first apparent. "Mrs. Northwood, you really should not say such things to a stranger."
"No, I shouldn't. But I have been doing wrong things ever since I arrived in Paris, and I have every intention of getting worse before I get better." With a lift of her chin, she added, "Countess Janos, I am sincerely sorry if I have embarrassed you. I hope you will believe that I wish both you and the Duke of Candover well. I wish everyone well, except my husband."
Then she left, not without a certain dignity.
Maggie shook her head as she thought over the strange conversation. If ever she had seen a young woman headed for trouble, it was Cynthia Northwood.
----
Chapter 6
Rafe was quite capable of administering a setdown that would dismiss even so thick-skinned an oaf as Oliver Northwood, but he refrained. Northwood was obviously waiting in hopes of an introduction to Countess Janos, and Rafe had a perverse, unhealthy desire to see how Maggie would react when unexpectedly confronted with her first lover. Assuming that Northwood
had
been the first, as he had claimed.
With his advantage of height, Rafe could see Maggie making her way through the swirling crowd, pausing sometimes to greet acquaintances. It was all casual, until she stopped to talk with a fair-haired man in the center of the room.
Ordinarily Rafe would have thought nothing of it, but his perceptions had been heightened by his present mission. For a moment Maggie's social mask slipped and
The girl ducked her head in agreement. She must be at least twenty-five, not really a girl, but her guileless air made her seem younger. "My name is Cynthia Northwood. Rafe was ... very kind to me earlier in my marriage, when I needed kindness."
Intrigued, Maggie asked, "And now your marriage is better and you longer need kindness?"
"No," Cynthia said, her wide brown eyes hardening, "now my marriage is nothing to me, and I have found kindness elsewhere."
Maggie sighed inwardly. It was one of the curses and blessings of her life that people felt compelled to tell her their innermost secrets. Even total strangers like this artless chit seemed to assume that she would offer good advice, or at least an understanding ear.
A talent for getting people to talk was an asset to a spy, but did she really want to hear about the Duke of Candover's amorous prowess from his former mistresses? In an effort to head off more confidences, she said, "I am Magda, Countess Janos, but perhaps you know that already."
"Oh, yes, everyone seems to know you. I've been admiring you since you came in. You have such presence. You and Rafe are the handsomest couple here. He seemed so absorbed in you, not like he is with most women."
How could one be insulted by such a naive tribute? Nonetheless, Maggie said severely, "Mrs. Northwood, don't you know how improper such remarks are?"
Cynthia flushed again. "My wretched tongue! My mother died when I was very small, and my father always encouraged me to speak my mind in the most unladylike manner. And ... and my friend Major Brewer likes it, too. He says I'm not missish, like most women. Truly, I mean no insult," she said earnestly. "But I am very fond of Rafe, and he looked happy with you. I don't think he is happy very often."
Intrigued against her better judgment, Maggie said, "Surely Candover has everything a man could want: birth, wealth, intelligence, enough charm and address for three men. What makes you think he is not happy?"
"He always seems a little bored. Perfectly polite, but not really caring about what he does. Of course," she added sadly, "perhaps that was just how he was with me. I know he never thought I was interesting, I was nowhere near intelligent enough for him. He only got involved with me because he had nothing better to do at the time."
Maggie listened to Cynthia's speech with horrified fascination and a certain respect. Perhaps there was more to the girl than had been first apparent. "Mrs. Northwood, you really should not say such things to a stranger."
"No, I shouldn't. But I have been doing wrong things ever since I arrived in Paris, and I have every intention of getting worse before I get better." With a lift of her chin, she added, "Countess Janos, I am sincerely sorry if I have embarrassed you. I hope you will believe that I wish both you and the Duke of Candover well. I wish everyone well, except my husband."
Then she left, not without a certain dignity.
Maggie shook her head as she thought over the strange conversation. If ever she had seen a young woman headed for trouble, it was Cynthia Northwood.
----
Chapter 6
Rafe was quite capable of administering a setdown that would dismiss even so thick-skinned an oaf as Oliver Northwood, but he refrained. Northwood was obviously waiting in hopes of an introduction to Countess Janos, and Rafe had a perverse, unhealthy desire to see how Maggie would react when unexpectedly confronted with her first lover. Assuming that Northwood
had
been the first, as he had claimed.
With his advantage of height, Rafe could see Maggie making her way through the swirling crowd, pausing sometimes to greet acquaintances. It was all casual, until she stopped to talk with a fair-haired man in the center of the room.
Ordinarily Rafe would have thought nothing of it, but his perceptions had been heightened by his present mission. For a moment Maggie's social mask slipped and
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