Page 58 of The Pleasures of Passion
Fighting a blush, Brilliana fumbled for how to answer. “Well, he didn’tstartwith the apology, believe me. First he attempted to . . . finish hashing out our argument from earlier.”
“I’m not surprised. I did wonder how he would react once you told him the truth.”
Brilliana paused at the top of the steps. “The truth?”
“About your father. And what he did to you.”
“Oh. Of course.” Brilliana had entirely forgotten how she and her aunt had left things earlier.
“Thatiswhat you were arguing about, isn’t it? You said you were going to tell him later. Or did you turn into mush once you saw Sir Oswald and then decide to put the past behind you?”
“Hardly.”
“Good, good. You shouldn’t.”
Hoping to put an end to the conversation, Brilliana hurried into the house, but Aunt Agatha was right on her heels and caught her in the foyer before she could head for the stairs. “So what did Lord Margrave say when you told him about your wretched father?”
Oh, Lord, would this never end? And how was she to answer? In Aunt Agatha’s eyes there would be no good reason for her to reconcile with Papa. Yet she and Niallhadto continue their efforts.
It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t yet told Niall for certain that she would go on with this farce. She’d said she would think about it.
But she’d mostly meant that she would think about letting him court her. Because the truth was, she’d already made up her mind about Papa. There was no sense pretending she could stand by and watch him hang, not if she could prevent it. After seeing him look so ill today, after hearing the yearning in his voice when he asked about Silas, shehadsomewhat turned into mush.
A pox on Lord Fulkham for putting her in this situation. She’d safely packed away her feelings for Papa—and Niall—years ago, and now the dratted undersecretary was forcing her to experience them all again.
“Well?” her aunt prodded. “What did Lord Margrave say when you told him?”
Brilliana hated that she was so bad at subterfuge. And leave it to Aunt Agatha to make things even more difficult than they needed to be. “Niall said that although he thinks what Papa did was deplorable, Silas is still Papa’s grandson and it’s important to stay involved with one’s family.”
Aunt Agatha snorted. “Then it’s no wonder you argued. I hope you stood firm.”
Oh, dear. “To be honest, once Niall made his case, I saw his side of things. He pointed out that after not having had his own family for so long, he appreciated them all the more. Blood is still blood, after all.”
“And bad blood is still bad blood,” her aunt retorted. “Besides, your fiancé is the one responsible for not ‘having had his own family.’ He’s the one who fought a duel, and for what? The gossips said it was over some woman.”
Brilliana cringed. “You heard that, too?”
Aunt Agatha scrutinized her. “Was the woman you?”
“No. And I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
Her aunt scowled at her. “You have become decidedly uncommunicative of late. This betrothal seems to have you at sixes and sevens.”
What an understatement. “I don’t want to talk about it because there’s no time, if I’m to dress for the ball.”
That clearly took her aunt off guard. “We’re going?”
“If you feel well enough.”
“It was just a trifling headache,” Aunt Agatha said with a trace of petulance. “But I thought perhaps you might notwantto go now that you’re betrothed. Unless Margrave is attending?”
“He’s not invited,” she lied. “So of course I’m going. After I marry, he and I will be retiring to the country and I’ll miss all the balls. So I must kick up my heels while I can.”
Then she fled, desperately needing to be away from Aunt Agatha’s incessant questions. Because how could she admit that she didn’t know why Niall had fought? That his refusal to tell her chafed her?
Indeed, it was the main thing that kept her from agreeing to his proposal that they court. And howcouldhe expect her to fall in with his plans when he was keeping so much from her?
She groaned. He expected it because he knew how susceptible she was to him. And oh, but he was right. She still couldn’t believe how wonderfully naughty it had been to be seduced against a tree by the scoundrel.
