Chapter 2

 

 

On the following afternoon, Aphrodite approached the town house of her older sister Terpsichore with trepidation. Terpsi, named for the muse of music, dance, and lyric poetry, was known for her salons, to which she invited the literary lions and cubs of London.

Aphrodite hated the gatherings at Terpsi’s small, elegant dwelling. In the first place, she thought her sister too young to have set up her own establishment, especially without a proper chaperone. However, their parents had approved it, as they approved almost every foolhardy desire of their frivolous offspring.

But the main reason Aphrodite hated to attend was that the people were so strange. They discussed topics that she knew very well did not belong in polite conversation, like women’s suffrage and the economy and corn laws. They read and discussed books in French. They argued. Everything that occurred in that place discomfited her so much that Aphrodite invariably refused the invitations proffered to her each week. She wouldn’t be going up the four steps and knocking on the scarlet door at this moment if she didn’t need to talk to her sister. Terpsi was the only one of her twelve siblings who was in town. In addition, Terpsi was possibly the only one with whom Aphrodite could share her disquietude and who might understand her worries about Athena.

The butler opened the door before Aphrodite could knock and ushered her into the parlours on the first floor. The rooms were so crowded that she couldn’t find her sister. And dark—how could she possibly find anyone in the shadows? Here and there were candles, but the small pools of light did more to emphasize than illuminate the darkness.

“Dear, dear sister.” Through the buzz of voices came a voice of round, clear tones from behind Aphrodite. “How delightful to see you.”

When Aphrodite turned, she saw Terpsi was dressed in her usual odd way, with diaphanous scarves swirling from her waist, swirling around the floor and tied over her shoulder.

“Oh, my.” Aphrodite gasped. “Your knees and—oh, my!—so much of your . . . your . . . you! can be seen through your skirt.”

“Of course, dear sister. It’s not a skirt.” She twirled and displayed more flesh than Aphrodite believed a proper lady should exhibit, even to her husband. “It is only these lovely scarves.”

Aphrodite lifted her eyes and inspected the chandelier, an activity she often engaged in when talking with her free-spirited sister. She sniffed. There was an aroma she couldn’t describe, like burning flowers with a thick, heavy scent. “What’s that smell?”

“Incense, dear sister. Isn’t it lovely?” She led Aphrodite to an isolated corner. “Why are you here? You seldom deign to visit my salons.”

“I need to discuss Athena with you.”

“Aah, and has our little sister finally and inextricably blotted her copybook?” Terpsi led Aphrodite to a secluded corner.

“Not yet, but she is so impressionable.” Aphrodite turned toward her sister but kept her eyes on Terpsi’s lovely face.

“You mean she’ll kiss any personable young man. A stolen kiss is hardly death to her reputation, but you are worried.” She tossed the braid in which she wore her copper-coloured hair over her shoulder as she arranged herself in a gilt chair and motioned Aphrodite to sit. “What can I do?”

“Perhaps if you were to talk to her. She believes I am irretrievably virtuous and lack a romantic spirit. She is correct, but I do know that, if she continues snuggling with the servants, she’ll never receive a suitable offer.”

“She is a good child at heart.”

“Oh, as loving as she can be, but she needs to understand toward whom and in what situation it is appropriate. I know that, in spite of your, well, your decidedly unusual ways and scandalous dress and odd mannerisms, you are a virtuous woman.” Aphrodite paused and looked at her sister through narrowed eyes. “You are still a virtuous woman, are you not?”

“Of course, dear sister. I know only too well the fate of a woman of our class who is not married and is not chaste. I will certainly not surrender my virtue.” Her eyes left Aphrodite’s face and took on a seductive gleam. She licked her lower lip. “At least, not easily. Unless I find a very good reason to do so.”

Aphrodite turned to follow the direction of Terpsi’s eyes. “Oh, no, it is Warwick,” she gasped and considered hiding under her chair. Terpsi stared at him like a tiger eyeing an appetizing jungle creature.

First he sent flowers to her, Aphrodite thought, then he flirted with Athena. Now Terpsi showed great—well, there was no other way to state it—lust for the man. The relationship was becoming incestuous.

“Yes,” Terpsi breathed the word out. “Isn’t he gorgeous? He’d be worth being compromised for, don’t you think?”

Shocked, Aphrodite said, “Need I remind you of your responsibility to guard the family honour?”

“Oh, don’t be such a cabbage head, Ditie. Family honour is not nearly as enticing as Warwick.”

“Then before you decide to compromise yourself, would you please talk to Athena? Remember, you are to discuss the importance of retaining her virginity. She’ll listen to you. Perhaps.” Aphrodite feared her face reflected her uncertainty about this last statement.

“Yes, dear, I will—but I will need to do it quickly, in case an opportunity with Warwick arises.” Terpsi stood, looking beyond her sister. “Look, he’s coming this way.”

“I don’t want to meet the man, Terpsi.” Aphrodite turned her back and attempted to shrink in the spindly chair, her head down. She peeked from behind her shoulder as Terpsi held her hand out and Warwick grasped it.

“Warwick. How delightful to see you.” Terpsi took his arm and attempted to stroll off with him, but the viscount refused to move.

“Isn’t that your sister hiding in the corner?” He approached her and leaned down to look at her face. “Good afternoon, Lady Aphrodite. Are you attempting one of Lady Terpsichore’s interesting exercises to strengthen your spine and improve your health?”

Aphrodite had no choice but to smile up at him and hold out her hand. “My lord. How delightful.” She sat up and squared her shoulders. “I didn’t realize you frequent my sister’s salons.”

“Of course. She has the most interesting literary talent here. Perhaps I could introduce you to some of them?”

“Oh, no, thank you. I was planning to leave. Please, continue to speak with your friends and associates.” She lifted her eyebrows and blinked furiously at Terpsi, who stood behind Warwick, willing her sister to take the man with her.

“I would much prefer to stay with you. Do you, perhaps, have something in your eye?” He sat in the chair Terpsi had just vacated and pulled it closer to Aphrodite. “Let me see if I can help you.” He placed one hand on her chin and tipped it up while he put his other on her forehead.

“What are you doing?” Aphrodite leaped to her feet. She looked around her, hoping no one had seen the man touching her. They were alone, which was unfortunate because she’d counted on Terpsi drawing Warwick off. “I’m fine.”

“But your face . . . oh, I see. You were signaling your sister to take me with her. Lady Aphrodite, what have I ever done to you to make you wish to avoid me?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all. This is for your sake. There is nothing about me, as a woman, that would interest you.”

“Oh?” He lifted his brow. “Why would you say that? You are very attractive, in a sedate way.”

“Now, my lord, that’s coming a bit strong. I’m nothing like the rest of my family.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” He leaned toward her, his face only inches from hers, serious and intense.

She was aware of him: the scent of sandalwood, the touch of his breath against her cheek, the overwhelming masculinity of the man.

He picked up her hand, turned it over and placed his thumb on her palm, rubbing and caressing. “Your hands are lovely. Long fingers and soft skin.” With his index finger he traced her hand, up her thumb, across her palm and fingers.

Drat the man, she thought. No one should be able to affect a woman like this. Her heart was beating tumultuously—surely he could hear it, she thought—and her breathing had almost stopped. She swallowed and took a deep breath before snatching her hand away from him. “Thank you, but it has been my experience that men don’t look for pretty hands in a woman.”

“Then they are fools. Of course, there is much more about you to admire than your graceful fingers.” He looked in her eyes. “You are very beautiful. Your eyes sparkle and your cheeks are pink. Why do you suppose that is?”

“You know very well what it is,” she snapped. “You cannot be unaware of your power over women. Now, if you would excuse me.” She looked into his face. It was a mistake.

Usually, she was aware only of his extreme good looks, but under those thick brows, his eyes held a promise of pleasure unknown to her. She longed to touch the blue-black hair, to ruin the perfection of its arrangement, but, with tremendous exertion of willpower, kept her hands in her lap. Quickly, she lowered her glance. Another unfortunate decision because his broad shoulders were leaning toward her, and she wondered how it would feel to rest her head against them, to have the strength of his arms crushing her against the broad chest.

“Oh, my,” Aphrodite gasped. “I do believe I should leave, now.”

But Warwick placed his hand on her shoulder. “Please, Lady Aphrodite, don’t go yet. I wanted to ask you why you believe I would not find you captivating. Have I shown myself to be hard to please?”

“Of course not,” she answered. “I come from a very attractive family, but I am aware that I am different. You know my sisters. Terpsichore is beautiful in a dramatic way; Athena is lovely, a sweet virgin.” Aphrodite thought it was a good idea to remind Warwick of her sister’s virtue.

“But Athena, for all her charm, is a child. You, Lady Aphrodite, are a woman.”

“I am but twenty, my lord. Do you imply I’m on the shelf?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying. You are lovely, but I believe you could take more advantage of your charms. For example.” He reached up and touched her hair. “You could allow curls around your face.” He brushed his hand against her tightly woven hair style.

With a quick pat, she ascertained that her hair remained in its proper place. “I don’t want to do that, my lord. That is not my style. Please, do not play with me.”

“You are lovely.” He studied her. “When you are angry, your eyes glow and you have such charming colour. Perhaps you should be angry more often.”

“I feel sure that, were I around you more often, I would be.” She stood and attempted to walk around him but he, too, came to his feet, then took her hands.

Aphrodite looked around her. Certainly someone—perhaps her dear sister—would see the hobble she was in and rescue her. Certainly, this sort of thing wasn’t normal behavior at a literary gathering, was it? But everyone was occupied in conversation. With the dim lighting, they might not even be able to see her. In another corner, someone was reading, and a group had gathered around him. Terpsi was nowhere to be seen.

“Perhaps if you were to modify the style of your clothing.”

She could feel his eyes moving over her, assessing her dress and also her form. She had no reason to be ashamed of her frame. Like that of all the women in her family, she was rounded in just the way most men preferred, but she wasn’t used to being inspected with such intimate regard. “I have not requested fashion advice,” she said, then paused before allowing herself to ask, curious, “What’s the matter with my clothing? It is in the kick of fashion.”

“Perhaps, among dowagers. My mother wears clothing more daring than yours.”

Aphrodite stifled a remark about the seemliness of an older woman wearing low-cut gowns and said instead, “Perhaps I don’t want to be as daring as your mother—or as anyone else. I am a virtuous woman.”

“Aah, yes, you do flaunt your purity. Now, if you will please sit down, let us talk about literature. I promise I will not tease you anymore if you will stop acting as if I am going to attack your virtue. Sometimes I forget you are not one of my usual flirts, but I promise to behave myself.” He turned Aphrodite back toward her chair and seated her. “Have you read Childe Harold? Tell me, what do you think of Byron?”

“I believe he’s a fraud.”

“Oh, and why is that?”

“He fools people. They have such an interest in his life, they will read anything he writes, even if most of it is overly romantic, dull, and poorly written.”

“But even Lady Jersey likes Byron’s poetry.”

“Lady Jersey has never been my literary mentor.”

“Well, I do agree with you, my lady. Then, may I ask your feelings toward Coleridge and Wordsworth?”

“Oh, much more to my taste. Are you familiar with Tintern Abbey?”

They spent a few more minutes discussing poetry before Terpsi claimed Warwick and pulled him off to meet other people. Aphrodite stood, surprised at the depth Warwick had displayed, at least about poetry.

When Warwick disappeared into the darkness of the other parlours, Aphrodite felt a need to escape the town house. After she made sure she had all her possessions, she hastened to the door, threw it open and hurried outside, into the light of late afternoon. Once on the steps in front of the town house, Aphrodite tilted her face toward the sun and attempted to draw in every bit of warmth and brightness.

In the dimness, surrounded by the sweet scent of Terpsi’s parlour, Warwick had woven a spell, Aphrodite decided as she allowed the brightness and warmth of the day to dissipate his magic. She had been almost intoxicated by the dimness and the seclusion and the soothing sound of his voice. And the heat of his touch, a little voice whispered. That was the lesson: she must never be alone with the man.

 

• • •

 

“I have often thought it absurd to drive in the park at five just because that is the time society likes to be seen.” Mr. Horne drove his modest cabriolet at a temperate speed through the nearly empty drives of Hyde Park.

It was only a few days later that Aphrodite found herself in the park with Mr. Horne at the unfashionable hour of three o’clock. “It is pleasant not to have to slow for the crowd.” She could look down the leafy lanes and see only a few people walking. Once she spied what was obviously a shopkeeper driving with a lady friend, but Aphrodite didn’t mind sharing the park with those in the trade. Her family had always taught acceptance of people of all classes. “Of course, you don’t see many people to greet at this time.”

As they drove in silence, Aphrodite studied Mr. Horne, a slight young man with thinning brown hair, combed in an unfashionably short style but with a smile of great sweetness. His brown eyes squinted against the sun. She noted her escort’s boots were buffed but not shiny and his coat was cut loosely. “I don’t believe I have told you how much I appreciate your habillement. You are a gentleman who dresses for comfort.”

“I have often thought those who stuff themselves into a constraining coat or pad their calves or wear high points that cut into their cheeks are foolish.” His smile was gentle.

“I could not agree with you more. You are certainly not a dandy or a tulip of the ton or a buck,” she complimented him. “You are a most commonplace young man.”

“Thank you. My mother raised me to have no pretensions. My father was the younger son of a fine family but died when I was very young. My mother’s father bought the lovely estate on which we now live. I will not have a title and will always be a gentleman farmer. I am happy with that.”

“Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“No, I’m an only child.”

How delightful to be an only child, Aphrodite thought, then banished the notion. She loved every one of her siblings, she reminded herself. She merely wished at least one of them were more like her, only a bit and just one.

“Tell me about your family, Lady Aphrodite.”

A sure way to frighten him, she thought. “You have met my parents.”

“Oh, yes, the romantic Marquis and Marchioness of Temple. Who doesn’t know them?”

“And you’ve met my younger sister, Athena.”

“A lovely young woman.”

“Perhaps you’ve met my older sister Terpsichore? She holds a famous literary salon.”

“I do not know much about literature, my lady. I hope that doesn’t disturb you. My mother always believed it was frivolous, if you will forgive me for saying that. I was brought up reading sermons and have never felt the need for lighter, less improving material.”

“Certainly, Mr. Horne. As to the rest of my family, I have ten other brothers and sisters.”

“Oh, yes, I’d heard your mother was . . .”

She knew he wanted to say that he’d heard of her mother’s fecundity, but she refused to supply the word.

“I mean, my, what a large family,” he substituted. “You must enjoy your holidays together. I must admit, when I heard about such a large family, I realized how much I miss having at least one sibling. But I am blessed to have my beloved mother. Please tell me more.”

“Do you know my brother Aeolus?”

“Yes, he was at Cambridge with me. What is he doing now?” Mr. Horne turned the carriage down another deserted path.

“He’s in Africa, searching for the source of the Nile.”

“How interesting. Has he started in Egypt?”

“No, he has a theory that the source of the Nile is close to the source of the Congo, so he is traveling east on that river.”

“Oh?” Mr. Horne blinked and looked at Aphrodite. “On what does he base his theory? Are there some historical writings that suggest this?”

“He bases this on his own opinion. Mr. Horne, you must realize that a Herrington doesn’t have to have a reason to believe what he or she believes. They just . . . believe.”

“Isn’t there great danger in Africa now?”

“Mr. Horne, danger is the raison d’être to a Herrington. Aeolus loves risk.”

“And your father? Your father actually allowed his heir to dash off to Africa?”

“My father is, of course, a Herrington. He understands Aeolus’s craving for danger. When he was barely sixteen, my father attempted to go to the colonies to fight for the king. He was disconsolate because the war ended before he was able to smuggle himself out of the country. His father, the Fourth Marquis of Temple, thought it a marvelous lark.”

“Oh.” He glanced sideways at her.

“I am not like the other Herringtons, Mr. Horne,” she reassured him with a smile. “I love them dearly but we are different.”

“I believe I met your sister Artemis, before she married Sanderson. Please excuse me for asking this. I know little of what happens in London because I spend so little time in society. I enjoy most taking care of our estate and chatting with my mother. Where is your sister now?”

“She and her husband are exploring the wilderness on the frontier of the colonies. In a dreadful wasteland called Ken-tucky. I believe that’s how the place is pronounced.”

The cabriolet lurched as Mr. Horne pulled back on the reins. “She’s in the colonies? Exploring the wilderness. But the danger! How could her husband allow her to do this?”

“Once Artemis makes up her mind, no one can change it. However, it was her husband’s idea. They are well matched.”

Mr. Horne gulped. “You say they are in Ken-tucky? Where is that?”

“It used to be part of Virginia.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve heard of that colony.” He snapped the reins and the horses quickened their gait. “And the rest of your family?”

“My brother Asklepios is at Cambridge. As you might guess from his name, he is very interested in medicine but, other than showing high spirits, he has done nothing too unusual. At home, I have four younger brothers and three sisters.”

“My, my.” Mr. Horne didn’t speak for a few moments, so deep was he in thought. After that long pause, he brought up a few subjects but the conversation languished as the topics of agreement ran out, and there was no one in the park to discuss.

As he stopped the carriage in front of the Herrington town house, Mr. Horne continued his thoughtful attitude as he helped Aphrodite descend. “I wonder,” he said as he escorted her up the steps, “if I could call on your father in the morning? I have something I would like to discuss with him.”

“I am certain he would be delighted to speak with you. My father prides himself on his use of modern farming methods. Perhaps you have heard of his interest? I believe you have a great deal in common.”

Mr. Horne’s fair skin flushed and he tugged at the neck of his shirt. “No, Lady Aphrodite, it is something of a personal nature I wish to discuss with him, and then with you.” He bowed and turned toward his vehicle. “If you will excuse me. I will plan to see your father at noon, if that will be convenient.”

“I feel sure it will be.” Aphrodite nodded at him but felt a little dazed. She was going to receive an offer from this pleasant man.

He would make a fine husband, she thought. They would be comfortable. Never would she feel blood pounding through her body with Mr. Horne. Never would he befuddle her brain or interrupt her breathing. She attempted to convince herself that she felt relief, but a nagging doubt whispered that she would miss the tumult Warwick could evoke with a glance.