Page 29 of Secrets of the Heart

Rachel made up her mind and changed it countless times as she tossed and turned in her bed that night, unable to sleep. By the next morning, when she got up, she was certain, however, that she must call on Michael’s sister if there was any chance that it might put her mind at ease.

That afternoon she dressed in a dark-green silk day dress, its only trim an embroidered flounce around the hem, and went to call on Araminta. She took her carriage, even though Araminta’s house was not far, because Araminta had more than once criticized what she felt was Rachel’s deplorable tendency not to employ the proper trappings of her station in life.

Araminta’s home was a cream-colored abode built in the Queen Anne style, and though it was a graceful and attractive place, Rachel had heard her remark more than once with a faint sigh that it could not compare to Westhampton Place. Rachel was not sure what her purpose was, other than a general dissatisfaction with life, but it always made her feel faintly guilty for living there, another of the many reasons that she usually avoided her sister-in-law.

The butler showed Rachel into the drawing room, and a moment later Araminta entered. Unlike Michael, she was not tall, and her figure had an unfortunate tendency toward stoutness, but her coloring was much like Michael’s, blond haired and gray eyed. She was seven years older than Michael and still given to dispensing her advice to him freely. Michael’s quiet, courteous nature had in her frozen into a rigid propriety.

She greeted Rachel now with a thin smile, saying, “Rachel. I had heard you had returned to London.”

“Yes. I have been settling in the past few days.” Rachel knew that Araminta’s remark was meant to point out that Rachel had been in London for too long without paying her a call.

A small silence fell upon them. Rachel struggled for some way to broach the topic of Lilith Neeley.

“I, um, I stayed at Westhampton longer than I usually do,” she said finally, deciding to try to ease into the matter. “The Duke of Cleybourne married shortly after Christmas, and Michael and I took his ward with us to Westhampton.”

As she had hoped, Araminta warmed up a little at the mention of a duke. She would love to be able to drop details about the new duchess into her next chat with friends. So Rachel described Jessica in detail, as well as some of the startling events that had taken place at the Castle during the snowstorm before Christmas. Here she had to walk a fine line, giving Araminta the pleasantly important sense that she was privy to the life of a duke without getting into the details of the crime that had been committed at the Castle, which Araminta would disapprove of as being “vulgar and scandalous.”

When she was through, Araminta then regaled her with some of the activities in which she had been engaged this winter, during which Rachel had to fight to keep her eyes open and her face set in lines of interest. Rachel tried to work the conversation around to Michael and the family estate at Westhampton, hoping to find some opening to the topic that had brought her here.

However, she could not, and finally, during a lull in their rather stilted conversation, Rachel blurted out, “Have you heard—do you know anything about Lilith Neeley?”

The heat of embarassment flooded her cheeks, and she dropped her eyes from Araminta’s face, so she did not see the expression that crossed her sister-in-law’s face, but she heard the sharply indrawn gasp that Araminta made. Her gaze snapped back up to Araminta at the sound, and she saw, with a sinking heart, that Araminta was staring at her in horrified surprise.

“Rachel! How can you—I cannot believe that you would bring up such a…a delicate and, frankly, embarassing matter.” Araminta set her mouth primly. “I refuse to discuss a woman like that. And I must say, you are doing yourself a disservice if you go about talking about her. In situations like these, it is much better to keep silent.”

Rachel felt as if her heart had wound up in her toes. So it was true, then. Michael was having an affair.

9

The “prunes and prisms” expression on Araminta’s face had told Rachel what she needed to know; her careful words had confirmed it. Araminta had obviously heard the tales about Mrs. Neeley and Michael, and believed them to be true.

“Our father was what he was,” Araminta went on bitterly. “But I never dreamed that Michael would—”

She broke off, rising to her feet, her face closed. “I think it is time that you were going, Rachel.”

Irritation flared in Rachel. One would think from the way Araminta acted that Araminta was the one who had been hurt by Michael’s keeping a mistress. She stood up, too, saying with some sarcasm, “I am sorry to upset you, Araminta.”

“Yes, well, I am sure that you cannot help it. Propriety is learned at an early age, I find.”

Rachel had to clamp her teeth together to keep from retorting something rude. Giving Araminta a nod, she managed to get out a clipped goodbye and left the house.

Annoyance at Araminta’s set-down distracted her at first, but by the time her carriage let her down in front of her house, Rachel’s mind was occupied by nothing but the painful realization that everything Leona Vesey had told her the night before must be true. Michael kept a mistress, had had one for years. And she had not even suspected. What she had feared was true: she did not know her husband at all.

Over the course of that day and the next, she could think of nothing else. Her emotions ran the gamut from hurt to embarassment to anger. She had followed their agreement to the letter—she had not seen or spoken to Anthony since that fateful day, and she had taken the utmost care not to do anything that would bring scandal on Michael and his family. She had been very circumspect in all her dealings with men. Yet he had had no such loyalty to her!

She knew that she had been the one who had first broken trust with him, that she had been foolish and it had killed his love for her. But, she wondered, had she not made up for that long ago? She had been young and in love, and, in fact, she had not actually done anything immoral. She had not given herself to Anthony; she was still as virginal and innocent when she married Michael as she had been the day they were engaged. It seemd to Rachel that Michael could have forgiven her somewhere along the way. Perhaps he might not feel the same way about her that he once had—but why did he dislike her so much that he had sought out another woman?

She was aware that men were apparently driven by stronger desires than women, but she could not understand why he had had to turn to a mistress. Why had he never come to her? In their whole marriage, Michael had never made any advances toward her. Was she so horrible? So undesirable? So unlovable? Had what she had done been so terrible?

Or was it that this other woman was simply so desirable that he could not resist? Perhaps it was because of Lilith Neeley’s beauty that he had broken his wedding vows. Rachel wondered what she looked like. Was she a flame-haired beauty like Jessica? A blonde? What manner of face did she have? Was she tall, short, graceful, witty?

Rachel became possessed by a desire to see the woman. She wanted to look at her, talk to her. It would be highly improper, of course, but Rachel did not care. She wanted to meet her, had to meet her.

The problem was that she did not have the slightest idea how to accomplish that. She had no idea where the woman lived, and she felt sure that none of the women she knew would, either. And, frankly, even if they did know, Rachel did not think she could bring herself to talk to any of her friends about it, even Sylvia. And a man, of course, would be horrified by the very notion of her asking about the woman; he would guard the address from her as if it were the most precious secret in the world. Besides, it seemed even more embarrassing to ask a man about the matter.

However, when Perry Overhill came to call on Rachel the following afternoon, it occurred to her that of all the men she knew, he was the one from whom she would most likely be able to wheedle at least an address for Mrs. Neeley. And since he had been with her the other night when Leona broke the news to her, it did not seem quite as embarassing.

“Perry!” Rachel rose and crossed the room, holding out both her hands to him. “You are just the man I wanted to see.”