Chapter 15

The family’s habit was to gather in an upstairs drawing room early in the evening and wait for Fimber to announce that dinner was served. When Lilah walked in, the Peabodys were already present. Polly greeted her warmly and inquired very kindly about her day, and Nat ushered her to a chair by the fire with great punctilio.

Polly told her she had spent a good part of the day with Miss Pickens and had enjoyed her company very much, although Miss Pickens had unfortunately continued to suffer from the queasiness her journey had brought on. When Polly realized this, she had insisted that Miss Pickens take to her bed. She also had arranged for special delicacies to be prepared in the kitchen and carried to her on a tray. Nat assured Lilah that their cook’s tisane worked wonders and he had no doubt Miss Pickens would be better by morning. Lilah was touched; their warm, unquestioning acceptance of two strangers thrust into their midst, and their generous attention to her old governess, struck her as sincere. One had to admire such bone-deep kindness.

Unfortunately, Lilah’s early arrival in the drawing room placed her at a disadvantage. In chatting idly of the day’s events, she unwittingly broke the news to the Peabodys that Sir Horace had left. Lilah had, naturally, assumed that her father had informed his hosts before departing. She was vexed and mortified when she saw that the Peabodys were mildly startled to learn that one of their guests had unexpectedly departed for Uxbridge.

“Dear me,” said Polly. “Did he tell us he was going to Uxbridge? I don’t recall him mentioning it. Do you, Nat?”

“No, my love. You’d think we’d recall it, wouldn’t you? Very odd, very odd indeed.”

Lilah was pink with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. It’s really most unlike him. I hope you won’t think less of Papa—”

“Oh, heavens, no,” said Polly comfortably. “It’s entirely possible he mentioned his plans to us a dozen times or more. We’ve been at sixes and sevens, you know, with the masquerade last night and all this furor about Eugenia’s betrothal. I daresay he told us he was going to Uxbridge, and we simply forgot.”

“Happens all the time,” Nat assured Lilah. “No need to color up, Miss Chadwick. We never stand on ceremony here. If your father wants to pop off to Uxbridge, why shouldn’t he? We’re happy to have him, we’re happy to let him go. And when he comes back, we’ll be happy to see him again. Won’t we, my love?”

“Naturally,” said Polly immediately. She reached over and gave Lilah’s hand an affectionate pat. “I hope you know, dear child, that we have already grown very fond of your father.”

Nat beamed. “Oh, aye! Very fond. He’s an excellent fellow, what? A most admirable chap. Liked him at once.”

Lilah was ready to weep with gratitude. The Peabodys, she thought, for all their informality, displayed the truest form of good manners—the natural tact that sprang from caring hearts.

Just as she was stammering out her thanks, the door opened to admit Drake. Eugenia was on his arm, looking as calm and collected as ever. Lilah was chagrined to discover, from the pang that shot through her at the sight of Drake and Eugenia together, that she was not immune to jealousy. She was so occupied in quashing her impulse to scratch Eugenia’s eyes out, it took her several seconds to realize that Drake was wearing an expression she had never seen on him before. He looked like a caged thing—wild and miserable.

The reason for this soon became clear. After exchanging perfunctory greetings with the Peabodys, Drake said, in his blunt way, “No point in postponing the inevitable. May as well tell you now. Eugenia’s accepted me.” The blank stares that greeted this announcement caused him to add, in a decidedly snappish tone, “You must know what I’m talking about; you were all present! I offered marriage. She’s accepted. That is all.”

Nat chuckled good-naturedly. “You must be mistaken, dear chap,” he told Drake. “Eugenia’s accepted Horace Chadwick. Can’t marry you both, what? Must have misunderstood her.”

“No, uncle,” said Eugenia, displaying no more emotion than would be suitable for a discussion of the weather. “Drake understood me. We must keep this news secret for the time being, until I am able to explain it all to Horace face-to-face, but Drake has persuaded me that my prior engagement was a mistake and that I will be happier as Lady Drakesley.” She turned courteously to Lilah. “I hope you will forgive me, Lilah, for any pain my decision may cause your father.”

“Certainly,” said Lilah faintly. A fog of unreality seemed to have descended upon the room. There was something unnerving about Eugenia’s apparent apathy while making such a sensational announcement. “I understand your reasons. I think.”

Eugenia inclined her head in gracious acknowledgment. “Thank you. I hope Sir Horace will be equally understanding.”

Lilah shivered with a sudden chill of dread. Saints above! She hoped so, too.

Until this moment, she realized in dismay, she had not really believed Eugenia would cry off—and had therefore not seriously pictured what her father’s reaction might be if she did. Her notion that Papa would feel relief at the news now struck her as self-serving and improbable. He would be upset. The only question remaining was, how upset? Would he be angry at the insult to his pride? That, certainly. But what was causing Lilah to suddenly feel a bit clammy was the fear that Papa’s pain might go deeper than that.

What if Papa truly loved Eugenia? This news would break his heart. And she, Lilah, had had a hand in it.

Oh, it did not bear thinking of. She might have brought unnecessary grief to her beloved father, who had already suffered so much through losing Mama. Eugenia might have been his last chance at happiness. Guilt and remorse swept through Lilah like a strong tide, overwhelming her. Too late!

Meanwhile, Nat Peabody was swelling like a flustered frog. “Now, see here!” he exclaimed. “If I didn’t know better, Eugenia, I’d think your wits had gone begging! You can’t go about, accepting every proposal you receive. You must pick and choose, girl! You must settle on one, and decline the others!”

“Yes, Uncle,” said Eugenia submissively, although amusement quivered in her voice. “I do realize I must break my engagement to Horace before I may wed Drake.”

Nat clucked and blessed himself and appeared extremely agitated. Polly was watching Eugenia with sharp eyes. When she finally spoke, it was to Nat. “Never mind, my love,” she said soothingly. “We must trust Eugenia to do what’s right.”

Fimber entered and announced that dinner was served. The company gathered itself for the short walk to the dining room, and Lilah was placed behind the Peabodys. She could not help but overhear their conversation as they paced down the passage ahead of her.

Nat leaned down to his wife, obviously deeply troubled. “Such a good man,” he muttered distressfully. “Hate to see her give him the go-by. Horace, you know! Fond of him. Thought he was just the chap to make her happy.”

“Yes, dear,” said Polly, patting her husband’s hand affectionately. “I like him, too. But we mustn’t interfere. Eugenia is the best judge of what will make her happy. Pray recall that we are fond of Drake as well.”

“Aye,” said Nat gruffly, apparently struggling to control his emotions. “Drake’s always been a prime favorite of ours, there’s no blinking that. I just can’t picture him making Eugenia happy. Or she keeping him content, either. Well! Could be worse, could be worse. She might have chosen Hatfield, eh? Didn’t care for him at all.”

It was a miserable meal. Lilah tried very hard to behave normally, since she knew she had behaved badly at breakfast—what would the Peabodys think of her?—but it was extraordinarily difficult to make small talk while suffering the torments of the damned.

This was not the first time she had acted on impulse and lived to regret it, but it was surely the worst. No wonder Papa had waited until the last possible minute to write to her, trying to hold her at bay! He must have known she would fly off the handle and do something shatterbrained. Well, she had, and now the deed was done. She had meddled in something serious, a matter that did not truly concern her, and wreaked havoc in the process. Now she had to face the unpalatable fact that she might have done lasting harm to her beloved father. Surely she was the most wretched of mortals.

After dinner, the three women withdrew to the cozy drawing room again. Lilah, drained by her efforts at normalcy during dinner, perched unhappily on a low chair near the fire and stared silently into the flames. Polly and Eugenia talked in low tones on the sofa behind her, but she made no effort to hear what they said. She felt unable to hold up her end of a conversation anyhow. The emotional toll taken on her by the past few days was proving difficult to bear.

It was a relief when Nat and Drake joined the ladies just a few short minutes after they had withdrawn. Nat still looked perturbed, and Drake morose, but Lilah felt that almost any addition to the company would improve the evening. If she had to spend it in quiet conversation with Eugenia and Mrs. Peabody, she thought she might go mad.

As Drake hesitated inside the door, eying the room, Nat walked over to join his wife and Eugenia. He sat on the settee facing them and immediately leaned forward and took Eugenia’s hand, speaking to her in a low and earnest tone. Drake frowned, appearing uncertain of his welcome among that threesome. Eugenia, concentrating her attention on Nat, did not look up to invite him over, so he hovered near the door for a few seconds, fidgeting, and then went to join Lilah. He dropped moodily into the chair beside hers and stretched out his long legs toward the blaze.

“My engagement to Eugenia is receiving a rather lukewarm reception in the bosom of my family, don’t you think?” he muttered. “Nobody seems to be breaking out the champagne or falling on my neck with tears of joy.”

“You must make allowances for them,” said Lilah, trying to reassure him. “A surprise of this nature is unsettling. When they become used to the idea, they will see that it’s all for the best.”

She glanced sideways at him. His mood had not visibly lightened. He was staring into the fire, frowning. The firelight edged the somber planes of his face in gold. “It is all for the best, isn’t it, Drake?” she asked, a catch in her voice.

He looked at her, then, his expression bleak. “I hope so. There’s no turning back, Lilah. She’s already written your father to give him the news.”

Her heart sank. “Oh.” Her hands twisted in her lap and she shivered again. “In that case, Drake, congratulations. I…I wish you happy.” She forced a smile, but he did not return it.

“Thank you,” he said tonelessly. His eyes met hers. The firelight leaped and burned, turning his eyes to molten gold, mesmerizing her. A strange ache formed at the core of Lilah’s being, tightening her throat as if with unshed tears. A profound sense of loss gripped her. If only things had been different. If only she and Drake could get along. If only…

But Nat Peabody’s good-humored voice broke into their tete-a-tete, calling out a suggestion that the company put together a game of commerce. Lilah was loath to offend her genial host, so she turned courteously and feigned enthusiasm for the idea. Drake’s negligent shrug was interpreted as his having no objection, so servants were called and a round table set up.

Lilah was careful to avoid sitting beside Drake, fearing that the temptation of his nearness might cause her to touch him more often than was necessary. She chose a place between Polly and Eugenia. Drake and Nat sat facing the women, and the game began.

Lilah did not expect to derive any real pleasure from a silly game of commerce. She was not in spirits, and braced herself for a tedious hour of pretending an enjoyment she did not feel. It was plain that Drake felt the same way she did, because he, unlike Lilah, took no pains to hide his surly mood. Eugenia dealt the cards and Drake, barely glancing at his hand, knocked on the table.

“What are you doing?” demanded Lilah, annoyed.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s how the game is played.”

“We haven’t played yet,” Lilah pointed out. “You can’t knock on the table until you have a winning hand.”

“I was dealt a winning hand.”

Lilah rolled her eyes. “You always think that,” she said provocatively.

Drake leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. “Fortune favors me. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“It won’t favor you this time,” Lilah told him sweetly, studying her own cards with a knowing smirk. When the play came round to her, she bartered a card and waved it triumphantly.

Drake cupped a hand behind his ear. “I don’t hear you knocking.”

“Just you wait,” promised Lilah.

What followed was the most entertaining game of commerce Lilah had ever played. The cards flew thick and fast, with much shouting and laughter. Formality disappeared immediately; within ten minutes Lilah was calling the Peabodys Aunt Polly and Uncle Ned, as Eugenia and Drake did, and they were calling her Lilah. Eugenia smiled more often than she laughed and therefore kept her dignity throughout the game, but the Peabodys were as noisy as children. Their merriment was infectious, and Lilah and Drake’s competitive natures further enlivened the table with a bloodthirsty spirit that added tremendous excitement to the game.

It seemed that Drake, like Lilah, was constitutionally incapable of losing gracefully. Although they were playing for pennies, both played with a cutthroat intensity more appropriate for matters of life and death. Fortunately, they coupled this tendency with a lively sense of their own ridiculousness, so that their table-pounding and fist-shaking and cries for vengeance caused hilarity rather than ill-will.

When the servants entered with the tea tray, the players were startled to discover how late it had grown. The game broke up, tea was drunk, and everyone went to bed pleasantly tired.

After the candle was blown out, Polly leaned over and patted her husband’s shoulder in the dark. “Nat, dear. Thank you for not making a fuss over Eugenia’s change of partners.”

Nat grunted. “Can’t say I approve of it, for I don’t. Never thought Eugenia would use a fellow so ill.”

“No,” said Polly thoughtfully. “It’s very unlike her. But that’s what gives me pause. I wonder if she’s playing a deep game.”

“Hey?” Nat opened one eye. “Shouldn’t be playing a game of any sort. That’s my point.”

“And a good one it is,” agreed Polly. “But, still…I couldn’t help but notice…”

“Notice what?” asked Nat sleepily.

“Never mind, my love. Go to sleep.” Polly smiled into the dark. It would be cruel to keep Nat from his slumbers to discuss romantic entanglements, a subject he followed with difficulty when wide awake. But she had noticed that Drake and Lilah had eyes for no one but each other. And that Eugenia faded into the woodwork in their presence, seeming to allow it. Eugenia was not in the least ruffled when her supposed fiancé neglected her entirely for several hours, never even glancing her way, because his attention was completely riveted on another woman. This was strange. In fact, it was unnatural.

Eugenia must have something up her sleeve. Polly drifted off to sleep wondering what it was…and hoping that, whatever it was, it would cause a minimum of scandal.