prepared a walnut cake.'
Noelle nodded and, with a smile for both of them, tripped from the room.
Simon slammed a triumphant fist into the palm of his hand. 'What a wife she's going to make for Quinn! Hire a tutor for her right away. And see that your dressmaker comes soon, Connie. I don't want Noelle in those rags any longer. Soft colors, I think, and not too many flounces. She doesn't need them. And, for God's sakes, do something about that hair!'
Constance shot up from her seat. 'You are overstepping yourself, Simon. Do not dictate to me. When I agreed to take Noelle, it was with the clear understanding that you would not interfere.'
'Interfere? Is that what you call it?'
There was such outraged innocence on his face that Constance would have been amused if she had not been so annoyed with his overbearing manner. 'You were to give me a free hand,' she reminded him coldly, 'and not interfere with my decisions. Yet here you are dictating her wardrobe, her tutoring…'
'Dammit, Constance!'
'And you watch that vulgar tongue of yours in my presence,' she snapped.
'So I'm vulgar, am I?'
With all their old hostilities biting at him, he stormed across the room toward her. For a brief moment she thought he was going to topple her, but he stopped just inches away.
'The way I see it, you're damned lucky I showed up when I did. We could have lost her after that fool thing you did with Finch. You know, after seeing you with her, I'm beginning to wonder just where your loyalties do lie. I asked you to keep Noelle here so that she and Quinn could be reunited one day, but from what I've just seen, I wonder if Noelle doesn't come first in your loyalties, with Quinn a poor second. Or maybe you just want her here to relieve your boredom.'
'That's not true, and you know it. Nothing would make me happier than to see Quinn and Noelle together, but I don't want to have it happen on your terms, without her knowledge. She is a human being and deserves to have a choice.'
'Are you saying you are going to go back on your word and tell her my plan?' His voice was low and threatening. 'Because if that is what you mean to do, you're going to have that girl's future on your conscience for the rest of your life. Do you think she would stay here for one moment under those circumstances?'
Constance felt some of her anger begin to drain away. Wearily she dropped into the small chair next to the window.
'No.' She shook her head. 'Of course she wouldn't stay.'
The room became very quiet. Something stirred inside Simon. She looked so fragile and unhappy, not at all like the self-sufficient woman he was used to seeing. Suddenly he felt like an overbearing bully.
'What do you plan to do, Constance?' he finally asked softly. 'The deck is stacked, and it's all in your favor. It looks like it's your game.'
Then he went to her and gently put his hand under her chin. Tilting it up, he looked at her almost tenderly. 'Don't back out on me now, Connie.'
Constance felt a tremor pass through her body. His lips were so close. Would they taste sweet? Her body filled with a longing fora more intimate touch. It yearned to mold naked to his, pliable and yielding. She envisioned him caressing her, burying his lips at her throat, moving them down to her breasts. The frenzy of his touch as she opened herself…
'Connie, are you all right?'
She plummeted back to reality to see the concern on his face. Sweet Christ! What was happening to her?
'Of course I am.' Angrily she slapped his hand away and pushed herself past him toward the door. 'I don't want Noelle to know there is anything wrong, so I will expect you to dine with us at one o'clock, but I want you out of this house immediately afterward. I will let you know what I plan to do before you leave.'
As she put her hand on the knob his voice taunted, 'You're a cold fish, Connie.'
In her room, Noelle stowed the knife under some petticoats in her bureau. As she shut the drawer her thoughts were spinning, a jumble of ideas, feelings, misgivings. It had been an extraordinary morning.
Tossing herself down on her bed, she rested her elbow atop the smooth mahogany cylinder that made up the headboard and tried to imagine what the next year would bring. Doubts plagued her. Was she going to be able to learn all Simon expected of her in so short a time? Although she did not take his threat to toss her back on the streets seriously, she still knew she could not allow herself to fail. She would earn every farthing of the salary he was going to pay her. If she were to become his hostess, she would be the best hostess in London!
For the first time since the night she had been violated, her dream of revenge seemed more than a shadowy specter. The odds had abruptly shifted, and a ragged little pickpocket setting herself against a rich and powerful man no longer seemed such a patent absurdity.
Except it wasn't really the little pickpocket who would even the score! Instead, it would be a sophisticated, educated woman made deadly by possessing the same knowledge that had enabled the pickpocket to survive for so long on London's brutal streets!
She jumped up from her bed. It was nearly time to dine, and her dress was hopelessly crumpled. She certainly couldn't appear in the dining room like this.
The hallway clock chimed one as, her face washed and her hair combed, she reached the bottom of the stairs. Constance was speaking to Simon outside the dining room doors. '… for me, I'm not pleased about it, but I see no other way.'
Noelle noticed that Simon was stiff.
'You won't regret it, Connie. I promise you that.'
'Don't make promises over which you have no control, Simon.'
She seemed about to say more, but then she caught sight of Noelle. 'Hello, dear. Mrs. Finch has really outdone herself this afternoon.' Linking her arm in Noelle's, she began a stream of conversation so amusing that Noelle soon forgot the puzzling exchange she had overheard.
Chapter Ten
Constance did not immediately call in her dressmaker. Instead, she quietly purchased some lacy caps and several simple cotton frocks to replace the unattractive dresses Noelle had been wearing. With each new day Constance could detect marked changes in Noelle's features, and now she intended to give the girl's frail body a chance to heal itself before she properly outfitted her.
The time passed pleasantly. They continued to have their lessons in the morning; in the afternoons, Noelle napped and walked. Throughout the day she consumed generous quantities of the nourishing food Mrs. Finch thrust upon her, eating with such relish that the cook soon forgot she had ever been opposed to the young girl's presence in the house.
Noelle and Constance spent each evening relaxing after dinner over thimbles of sherry. Constance told Noelle about her girlhood, her education, and even the loneliness she felt after her husband's death, and Noelle spoke about her mother. She could not tell it all -it was buried too deeply-but she sensed Constance understood much of what was left unsaid.
Every evening Letty came to her room and brushed her hair. The lamplight began to pick up warm, golden- brown strands growing from the healthy scalp. With repeated washings, and the help of Letty's silver scissors, the bright carrot hues were becoming less and less noticeable.
Noelle's eighteenth birthday came and went. She received a beautifully bound copy of Jane Austen's
The days grew warmer, and Noelle found herself napping less frequently as her body gained strength. One warm June afternoon she was in the garden enjoying her new book when Constance came out to join her, a shawl dangling from her ringed fingers.
'Put this around your shoulders, dear. I don't want you to get chilled.'
Noelle took the shawl and looked fondly at Constance. 'You spoil me, you know.'
