She had prepared herself to endure the evening. She had worn her favorite sea-green lace gown with its underdress of midnight blue. She had had her maid dress her curls high in an elaborate coiffure. And she had sparkled as she left her room and joined the other members of the house party in the drawing room at Oakland. More than one person there had commented that she looked as if she were about to attend a London ball, as if she were about to make her come-out again.

She had shared a carriage with Sir Herbert Fanshawe, Miss Ames, and the Marquess of Stanford, and she had monopolized the conversation with her bright chatter and gay laughter. She had entered the dining room on the arm of the marquess, knowing that several people around her were murmuring at the apparent renewal of a London courtship. Through dinner her relief at not having to face David had been enough to sustain her mood. All attention at her end of the table had been focused on her. Everyone around her had appeared happy and full of laughter.

But she could not sustain the mood. It became clear when the music had started that David was not coming at all. And so Rachel was desperately unhappy, feeling that only his presence could have given her the strength to continue her playacting. Suddenly, without David there, there seemed no point in keeping up the deception.

Algie had been so kind to her all week. He had been kind to her tonight, smiling the length of the table at her whenever there was a burst of laughter from her group, leading her into the opening set, complimenting her on her appearance.

She felt cheap, shoddy. Wretched. Her life was one big lie. Her smile became actively painful to maintain.

At the end of the second set, Rachel grabbed Algernon by the arm, smiling brightly up at him. "Take me outside, Algie," she said. "I want to talk with you."

"Are you very warm, Rache?" he asked. "It is a wicked night for a ball, is it not? I wish that wretched storm would break. You will feel better when it does."

"I need to talk with you," she said, her smile slipping a degree.

"I have asked Madeline for the next set," he said. "Can you wait half an hour, Rache?"

"Please, Algie."

He looked closely at her and frowned slightly. "Wait here," he said. "I shall go and make my excuses to Madeline."

Rachel's smile had slipped all the way by the time he rejoined her a few minutes later. Algernon looked at her in some concern as he tucked her arm through his and led her through the French doors onto the lawn outside.

Chapter 13

ALgernon kept his hand over hers.

"What is it, Rache?" he asked when they were out of earshot of the couples strolling on the terrace in an attempt to escape the heavy heat of the ballroom. "It is unlike you to miss any of the dancing and to request that I do so. too."

"Will this storm never break?" she asked rather petulantly, glancing up to the dark sky. As if in answer, a distant rumble of thunder seemed to shake the air around them.

Algernon squeezed her hand. "You aren't afraid of storms, Rache," he said. "Tell me what is the matter."

"I can't marry you, Algie!" she cried, pulling her arm from his and turning to face him. "Just a few weeks ago I had the effrontery to ask you to offer for me and to persuade you almost to promise that we would be betrothed in the autumn. And you were so kind and understanding and have been ever since. But I have changed my mind, and I feel so dreadful about it. You are easily the nicest man I know, and I do love you dearly, believe me I do. But I can't marry you."

Algernon clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at her. "Don't upset yourself, Rache," he said calmly. "If you feel you cannot marry me, I am not going to force you. And neither is anyone else. It is nothing to get dreadfully upset about, you know. There was nothing official after all, was there? Do you want to tell me what has happened? Has Stanford offered again? And do you wish to accept him? You must not feel guilty about me if that is so. It will be a splendid match for you. And I believe he will make you a good husband. Come, talk to me. We have always been friends, have we not? We have always been comfortable together."

"Yes, we have," she said. "And loved each other. And that is the trouble. I cannot marry you because I would not be able to make you happy, and it would break my heart to know that I was causing you misery. Lord Stanford has nothing to do with this, Algie. I will not be marrying him either, though I believe he means to offer again later this evening. I am not going to marry anyone."

"Your Season in town has made you restless," he said, smiling kindly down at her. "I guessed when I saw you in London that the country would no longer suit you. You have learned that society has a great deal to offer someone with your beauty and your gaiety. And there is nothing wrong with that, Rache. You must not feel guilty that you now find me somewhat dull. I am dull, and make no apology for the fact. And if Stanford does not suit, you must not become upset over that either. You will find the perfect husband eventually, I promise, and be happy for the rest of your life. Come on, cheer up, you little goose."

"Oh, no," Rachel said, looking earnestly into his eyes. "You misunderstand quite, Algie. I do not want more of social life. All of that has grown remarkably tedious. It has meant nothing to me since I have discovered that what I really want is a useful purpose in life. I am not rejecting you because I consider you dull. Oh, please don't think that. I don't want London. I don't want balls."

"A useful purpose," he said, flicking one finger beneath her chin. "Like all this tripping off to your father's tenants and hauling along books to read to the elderly, Rache? Is that what you mean by being useful?" He frowned. "But you cannot make a way of life of that. You will need a home and family besides."

Rachel shook her head. "I am going to start a school," she said. "I want to teach the children to read."

Algernon grinned. "You, Rache?" he said, amusement in his voice. "And you are quite serious, are you not? I can see it in the set of your chin. What will your papa say to that?"

"I am not sure," she said. "But his opinion will make no difference, anyway."

Algernon placed his hands on her shoulders and continued to grin down at her. "You know, Rache," he said, "it is David you should be marrying."

Rachel stared at him numbly.

"Good God!" His hands tightened and his expression instantly sobered. "Have I been that blind, Rache? Is that it? Is it David?"

"I think I would have discovered what I have even without him," Rachel said carefully, "but probably not quite so soon. Perhaps I never would have found the meaning of my life and I would always have wondered why I was restless and not quite happy."

Algernon nodded slowly, his eyes searching hers. "And you love David too."

Rachel did not answer. She did not need to. Algernon's words had not been a question.

"I would not have expected it," he said. "He is devilish handsome, of course, but I wouldn't have thought that he would attract you in the least, Rache. You seem such opposites. And does he love you too?"

Rachel hesitated. "He is going to leave," she said. "He is waiting until his brother goes home and then he is going to talk to you. I will not be going with him."

"Even knowing that you are not going to marry me, he is still leaving alone?" Algernon asked. "Poor Rache." He spoke very gently.

"How can you sympathize with me?" she asked. "I have done dreadful things to you, Algie. Persuading you that we should be betrothed soon and all the time loving David. I should have told you sooner. I owed you that. We have never had secrets from each other, have we?"

"People always have to have secrets from each other, Rache," he said. "There is a part of each person that has to be private even from those we love. Otherwise we would lose our individuality, our very selves, perhaps. I think your love for David has been painful, has it not? Still is, doubtless. No, Rache, you have had every right to keep those feelings to yourself."

Rachel's eyes were troubled and tear-filled as they looked up into his. "You are such a dear man, Algie," she said. "Will you still be my friend? You will not hate me and shun me after this embarrassment? I do not think I could bear it if I thought I could no longer run to you with my troubles. I will not feel quite safe without you."

Algernon squeezed her shoulders again and drew her against him. "Silly little goose," he said. "When two people have loved each other all their lives, as you and I have, their feelings do not alter just because of one very minor embarrassment. Of course you will always be able to come to me. And of course I will always protect you from harm whenever I can. You must never doubt that. Just as I will never doubt that you will always bring a little ray of sunshine into my life whenever I see you."

"Algie," she said, lifting her face to look up into his. She paused as there was another low rumble of thunder from the distance. "You will marry? You must marry. Though I shall probably be horridly jealous of your wife and will kick myself from here to London and back for giving you up when I had the chance to marry you."

He laughed. "You will probably be one of the first to know if I ever decide to marry anyone else," he said. "So you will still have a chance to engage the lady in fisticuffs and win me back, Rache. I rather fancy the idea of two females fighting a duel over me."

Rachel laughed in spite of herself. "Oh, you do say some absurd things, Algie," she said. "I do love you so."