Page 35 of Unending Joy
“Impossible. My sisters would think me overset by a parlour game.”
He smiled. “Nonsense.” Then, in a tone half teasing, half coaxing: “Will you permit me to tell your chaperone?”
Joy hesitated. St. John’s solicitousness was very pleasant. Yet accepting would be to acknowledge weakness, and she had lived her whole life determined not to be thought fragile. She opened her mouth?—
“Joy?” Freddy stepped from the larger room, concern plain upon his handsome, slightly flushed features. “Are you unwell?”
“I am perfectly well,” she said, too hastily.
Colonel St. John released her hand and straightened. “Miss Whitford may benefit from quieter surroundings. I was about to find her chaperone.”
Freddy’s eyes flicked to their joined hands and away again. “I will see to it.”
St. John’s smile held no warmth. “As you wish.”
Joy wished the carpet might swallow them all. “I am sure either of you would do, but since Mr Cunningham feels responsible?—”
“Thank you,” Freddy said, offering his arm with exaggerated gallantry. “Shall we?”
She accepted, aware of St. John’s disappointment, though he bowed with impeccable grace. Freddy steered her through thedim corridor, his pace leisurely so that she need not jolt her aching head. When they had gained the foot of the staircase, he paused beneath a lantern and studied her face.
“You are truly in pain.” It was not a question.
“Merely fatigued. My right eye rebels, that is all.”
“Why did you not tell me at dinner?”
“Because you were occupied with Miss Partridge.” The words emerged sharper than intended. She sighed. “Forgive me. I am out of sorts and therefore unjust. Besides, I can never refuse charades.”
“Occupied,” he repeated, as though testing the taste of it. “Joy, Letty Partridge is a feather-brained flirt. I would sooner marry my bay gelding.”
“That is unkind to Letty.”And a relief I ought not to acknowledge.“Besides, your gelding cannot play the pianoforte, and you have no other candidates.”
“My horse has other merits.” Freddy’s smile became crooked. Then, more seriously, he said, “I saw St. John take your hand. Did that distress you?”
“I—” She faltered. “No, only surprised me. He…looks at me as though I were not merely an amusing companion but—” Her voice dwindled.
“A woman,” Freddy supplied quietly.
“Yes.” Silence pressed. “It is—sufficiently odd that I scarcely know how to respond.”
Freddy’s gaze grew intent. “You need respond only as you feel. If his attention troubles you, I shall speak with him.”
“Absolutely not,” she cried, then winced at the echo in her skull. Moderating her tone, she added, “I can manage my own affairs.”
A flicker of something—hurt, maybe—crossed his face, gone almost before she registered it. “Joy,” he said, taking her hand, his voice rougher than usual, “you are—not merely adequate, orcapable, or my dearest friend. You are extraordinary and need not settle where your heart is not affected.” He released her as though daring her to dispute him.
Speech deserted her. Heat rose from her collarbones to her hairline. The throbbing in her skull battered a rhythm equal to horses’ hooves. When at last she managed to breathe, she found her reply woefully feeble. “Thank you.”
He offered his arm once more. “Come. Let us find Lady Westwood to see you to your pillow before the household concludes you have eloped with the Colonel.”
She managed a laugh and allowed him to guide her to a quiet place to await her escort home. Pain notwithstanding, her heart felt strangely buoyant, as though she had stepped from solid earth onto a craft of which the destination remained undecided. Freddy’s steady presence at her side, the remembered heat of St. John’s fingers, the lingering hiss of Letty Partridge’s laughter—all blurred together into something new and unsettling. She did not know whether she liked it, only that she was vividly, terribly awake.
As Westwood and Faith joined them to see her home, Freddy returned to wish her goodnight. “Rest, Joy. Promise me?”
“I promise.” She hesitated, then rose on tiptoe to press a swift kiss to his cheek—nothing more than any sister might bestow. “Good night, Freddy.”
He touched the spot lightly, as though surprised to find it still warm. “Good night.”
