Page 88 of Just Imagine
“Compared to what?”
Veronica’s laughter tinkled through the room like glass bells. “You’re without doubt the most refreshing female in this decidedly tedious county.”
“If it’s so tedious, why do you stay here?”
Veronica fingered the cameo brooch at her throat. “I came here to heal my spirit. I’m certain that sounds melodramatic to someone as young as you, but my husband was very dear to me, and his death hasn’t been easy for me to accept. In the end, though, I’m finding boredom almost as great an enemy as grief. When one has become accustomed to the company of a fascinating man, it’s not easy to be alone.”
Kit wasn’t sure how to respond, especially since she sensed a subtle calculation behind the words, an impression that Veronica quickly reinforced.
“Enough! You cannot want to spend your afternoons listening to the maudlin reflections of a lonely widow when your own life is so new and young. Tell me how you’re enjoying being married.”
“I’m adjusting much like any other new bride,” Kit answered carefully.
“What a conventional and proper response. I’m quite disappointed. I’d expected you to tell me with your customary bluntness to mind my own business, although I’m certain you shall do just that before I leave. I came here with the express purpose of prying into the intimacies of this most interesting marriage of yours.”
“Really, Mrs. Gamble,” Kit said weakly. “I’m sure I can’t imagine why you’d care to do that.”
“Because human mysteries make life amusing. And now I find one right in front of me.” Veronica tapped her cheek with one oval fingernail. “Why, I ask myself, does the most attractive couple in South Carolina seem to be at loggerheads?”
“Mrs. Gamble, I—”
“Why do their eyes seldom meet in public? Why do they never touch each other in the casual way lovers do?”
“Really, I don’t—”
“That, of course, is the most interesting question of all, because it makes me wonder if they truly are lovers.”
Kit sucked in her breath, but Veronica waved her silent with a lazy flick of her hand. “Spare me any dramatics until you’ve heard me out. You may discover I’m doing you a favor.”
A small, silent war took place inside Kit, with caution on one side and curiosity on the other. “Go on,” she said as coolly as she could manage.
“There is something not quite right about this couple,” Veronica continued. “The husband has a hungriness about him that is foreign to a well-satisfied man. While the wife. . . . Ah, the wife! She is even more interesting than the husband. She watches him when he isn’t looking, drinking in his body in the most immodest fashion, letting her eyes caress him. It’s most puzzling. The man is virile, the wife sensuous, and yet I am convinced the two are not lovers.”
Having had her say, Veronica was now content to wait. Kit felt as if she’d been stripped bare. It was humiliating. And yet . . . “You came here with a purpose, Mrs. Gamble. I’d like to know what it is.”
Veronica looked surprised. “But isn’t it obvious? You can’t be so naive that you don’t realize I’m attracted to your husband.” She tilted her head. “I’m here to give you fair warning. If you don’t intend to make use of him, I certainly do.”
Kit found herself almost calm. “You came here today to warn me that you intend to have a liaison with my husband?”
“Only if you don’t want him, my dear.” Veronica picked up her lemonade and took a delicate sip. “Despite what you may think, I formed an exceptional fondness for you the first time I met you. You remind me so much of myself at your age, although I hid my feelings better. Still, fondness can extend only so far, and in the end it will be better for your marriage if I share your husband’s bed, instead of some scheming hussy who’ll try to come between the two of you permanently.”
Up until that moment, she had been speaking lightly, but now her green eyes bore uncompromisingly into Kit’s like small, polished emeralds. “Believe me when I tell you this, my dear. For some reason that I can’t possibly fathom, you’ve left your husband ripe for the picking, and it’s only a matter of time until someone does just that. I intend that someone to be me.”
Kit knew she should sweep indignantly from the room, but there was something about Veronica Gamble’s utter frankness that triggered the part of her that had so little patience with dissemblance. This woman knew the answers to secrets that Kit could only glimpse.
She managed to keep her face expressionless. “For the sake of conversation, suppose some of what you say is true. Suppose . . . that I have . . . no interest in my husband. Or suppose—again for the sake of conversation—that . . . my husband has no . . . interest in me.” Color flushed her cheeks, but she plunged determinedly on. “How might you suggest I go about . . . getting him interested?”
“Seduce him, of course.”
There was a long, painful silence.
“And how,” Kit asked stonily, “might one do that?”
Veronica considered for a moment. “A woman seduces a man by following her instincts without giving the slightest thought to what she’s heard is proper or improper. Seductive dress, a seductive manner, a willingness to tantalize by giving a glimpse of promises to come. You’re an intelligent woman, Kit. I’m certain if you put your mind to it, you’ll find a way. Just remember this. Pride has no place in the boudoir. It’s a room devoted to giving, not holding back. Do I make myself clear?”
Kit nodded stiffly.
Having accomplished the purpose of her visit, Veronica gathered up her gloves and reticule and stood. “I warn you, my dear, you’d best learn your lessons quickly, for I shan’t give you much time. You’ve had quite enough already.”
