Lady Lovett's Little Dilemma

When she opened her eyes again, Catherine was hustling her into the drawing room, leaving the butler to attend to the pounding on the door.

“I made a mistake. I must go to Justin.” Cressida tried to pull away but her cousin held her firmly, pushing her down onto the Egyptian sofa and adopting an attitude of the greatest solidarity as she positioned herself close, her arm about Cressida’s shoulders.

“So I was right?” The edge of prurient interest was greater than the sympathy for which Catherine obviously strove as she pursed her mouth and patted Cressida’s knee, saying, “My poor love, I thought you were the lucky one and that nothing could touch the magic that seemed all too apparent between you and Justin. Now you see he’s like all the rest and you have to learn that sorrow is a woman’s lifelong companion.”

Her words were cut short by the drawing room door being thrown open over the whispered admonitions of Catherine’s butler that Justin wait to be announced.

“Evening, Catherine. I’d like to see my wife, alone.” His glance did not even encompass his wife’s cousin. The tightness around his mouth and the flare in his eye as he rested his gaze upon Cressida indicated the storm raging within. Never had Cressida seen Justin so discomposed.

Despite the raw hurt that scored deep into her heart, there was no denying Cressida’s pride at being allied to such a handsome man, or her admiration as she raked her gaze over his tall, determined form. Certainly these were cosmetic, but it had always given her a thrill to know that Catherine—and others like her—envied Cressida her husband for his outward charm, good looks and obvious intelligence, in addition to his pocket book. Catherine must indeed be curious as to the extent of Justin’s manly attributes, which only Cressida was in a position to know.

As Cressida’s eyes met Justin’s, the intensity of his look sent her stomach lurching. In an agony of anticipation she watched him rake back his hair and draw in a breath…to apologise? Beg her forgiveness?

Relief made her nearly weep, despite the suspicion of his infidelity and the guilty knowledge of her own part in pushing him away. The fact that Justin was standing here now showed he’d made her his priority. If Cressida valued her happiness, she must show the good sense to sweep everything under the carpet and simply forgive and forget. They were bound to one another for life and, if he’d strayed, it was only because she’d denied him his marital rights for ten months.

She started to go to him. Justin was her world. She belonged with him.

As long as he didn’t cast her as the credulous fool in front of Catherine, the wife who could be relied upon to turn a blind eye to future peccadilloes, she could put all this behind her.

She patted her cousin’s hand, which had swooped up to stop her, whispering, “It’s all right, Catherine, I’m going with Justin.” If there was more resignation than joy in her tone, she needed to convey her acceptance of the situation so she could simply depart. Justin’s confession could wait.

Catherine thought differently. “Let Justin say what he came to say, first,” she responded, gripping Cressida’s skirt and pulling her down, hissing in an undertone, “Be strong, Cressy. If you meekly accept everything he tells you, he won’t respect you.”

Justin glared. Damn, but how could Cressida resist a man who incorporated everything her heart desired—determination, charm, good looks, a desire to see to her happiness and that of their children? She sucked in a wavering breath. If he’d strayed, he regretted the pain it had caused her. She still came first in his world. She had to believe it, or her world was nothing but dust.

He spoke quickly, holding out his hand before Cressida could reply. “Please, Cressy, I need to speak to you alone.”

Justin could always make him want her. Even now she felt her desperate need for him override every other painful emotion she’d endured during the past week. He could put her through nameless torments and she’d still want him. The knowledge threaded its way uncomfortably through her veins.

Should she accept everything he said so meekly? Catherine was right. There came a time when, for her own survival, it was incumbent upon her to stand up for herself.

With another short, sharp tug, Catherine forced Cressida to resume her seat on the sofa beside her while she took the initiative, saying in her thin, superior voice, “Cressida came to me because she was deeply upset by recent events.”

Although Catherine had had no direct confirmation that Cressida had ventured into Mrs Plumb’s sinful establishment, her words suggested a knowledge that went far deeper than any confidence with which Cressida had entrusted her. Catherine’s capacity for interference suddenly frightened her. Justin would not, could not, deny the existence of Mariah Zirelli, but now was not the time for such a confession. Catherine would be like a dog with a bone. She would use Justin’s guilt for her own ends. His remorse, and the torture Catherine would put him through, would go some way towards alleviating the pain caused by Catherine’s own husband’s painful lack of any finer feelings, but it had the potential to destroy Justin in his own eyes.

“It’s all right, Catherine.” Cressida stood once more, no longer desperate to hear her husband beg her forgiveness. He could do that later, without Catherine to witness it.

She was prepared for silence, even for a mumbled, “We’ll talk about this later,” but Justin’s response struck a heavy blow to her new resolve when, in a tone almost of injury, he said, “I’m sorry to see you’ve been caused pain, Cressy, but you’ve misunderstood matters.” The flinty gaze that he’d levelled upon Catherine softened as he held out his hand to Cressida. “I’m so glad to see you, my darling. Everything will be all right when we are alone.”

Alone… Oh, how Cressida longed for it.

“So Cressida’s eyes deceived her.” Catherine’s voice was smug. She smiled at her cousin. “I’m sure you’re greatly relieved to hear that, my dear, but I think the fact you’ve woken me at such an ungodly hour deserves an explanation. What is the cause of your distress, which Justin is so anxious to make you believe was nothing?”

“It is nothing, but clearly Cressida thinks otherwise.” Justin fixed a cold look upon his wife’s cousin, adding in clipped tones, “Leave it, Catherine, so I might explain everything in private.”

Torn, Cressida sank back in her seat, wavering, then ultimately rejecting the hand her husband extended towards her. Justin had quite clearly denied the truth of that which could not be denied. Did he think her such a gullible fool? Was she nothing more than a doormat who could be relied upon not to make a fuss and to turn a blind eye whenever he chose to stray?

Catherine was not to be denied her evening’s entertainment. Ignoring Justin, she ran her hand over Cressida’s black silk skirts. Her eyes glittered with curiosity. “Where have you come from tonight, Cressy? I can see it’s not masquerade, so surely it’s some wild disguise?”

“Nowhere you’d know,” Cressida mumbled while she still agonised over whether she’d stay or go with Justin.

“Nowhere I’d know.” Catherine repeated Cressida’s words slowly, clearly intrigued. “Why, Cressy, I didn’t think you had it in you. It’s Wednesday, isn’t it? And if you weren’t at home or with me, why surely you’ve been at Mrs Plumb’s? Look at you. I’ve never seen you look so dashing…” Her words trailed away. She tilted her head to look at Justin and her mouth curved in a speculative smile. “But I fear something at Mrs Plumb’s has upset you. Something involving your husband and—” she added, carefully, “perhaps another woman.”

Justin seized Cressida’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Cressida’s eyes deceived her. She is coming home with me.”

Cressida’s eyes deceived her? Indignati

on gained the upper hand and banished Cressida’s desire to meekly return home with him. She was prepared to accept a watered down version of the truth but, unless she showed some backbone, as Catherine put it, she realised in this instant that this might well be only the start of even greater sorrow. She had to stand up for herself.