A Secret Affair

“Of course,” Barbara said. “If I do not go, then you ca

“Because I will be unchaperoned?” Ha

“Even you would not be brazen enough to attend a ball alone,” her friend said, looking up.

“I could dash off a letter to Lord Hardingraye or Mr. Minter or any of a dozen others, and I would have a willing escort in no time at all,” Ha

“Not Mr. Huxtable?” Barbara raised her eyebrows.

“After our appearance together last evening at the theater,” Ha

“Oh, I shall come,” Barbara said, picking up her work again. “There is no need to write to any gentleman.”

“Only if you are sure,” Ha

“I must confess,” Barbara said, “that having attended one ton ball with you, Ha

Ha

“You have a long, long way to go before you can legitimately apply that epithet to yourself,” she said. “Unlike me.”

The sunshine beaming through the window was making her feel drowsy. She had woken up at five this morning and had roused Constantine to bring her home, but it had been well after six before they had actually left. She had been quite right about the danger of actually sleeping with a man, especially a man who had somehow got up during the night without waking her and removed all his clothes. They had both been warm and sleepy and amorous, and they had already been tangled together. A whole hour had passed very pleasantly indeed before they got out of bed.

“Was it very difficult,” Barbara asked after a few minutes of silence, her head bent over her work, “to change from who you were to who you are, Ha

Ha

“Not at all,” she said eventually. “I had a very good mentor. The best, in fact. And I did not at all like who I was. I liked who I became. I like who I have become. The duke taught me to grow up, to value myself as I was created to be. And he taught me how to be a duchess, his gift to me. He taught me to be independent and self-reliant. He taught me to need no one.”

That last point was not strictly true. She had not realized quite how much she needed him until he was gone. And he had never told her that she needed no one. Quite the contrary, in fact. He had always told her that she needed love and the precious cluster of persons that would surround that love when she found it—her little community of belonging, he had called it. He had assured her that she would find it one day. He had taught her in the meantime not to be needy, but to rely upon her own i

Like sex, she thought now, closing her eyes briefly. It was far more intoxicating than she had expected it to be. It would be very easy to come to rely upon it, to live for the hours at Constantine’s house when all her needs could be satisfied.

But not all. She must never forget that. She must never make the mistake of believing that the needs Constantine satisfied in her were the fundamental needs of her being.

They had nothing to do with love. He had nothing to do with love.

“I liked you, Ha

“I would soon find myself abandoned if I were,” Ha

“He is not exclusively my vicar,” her friend said with a smile for her embroidery, “though he is exclusively my Simon. I love him dearly, you know. He is bookish and intelligent and quite incapable of holding a frivolous conversation, though he does try, the poor dear. He wears eyeglasses and is losing his hair a little at the forehead and temples even though he has not quite reached his middle thirties yet. He is perhaps an inch shorter than I am, though when he is wearing riding boots we are of a height with each other. And he has the kindest smile in the world—everyone says so. But he has a special smile just for me. It pierces right through to my heart.”

Her needle was suspended above her work. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes shining as they gazed at her embroidery and saw a man who was physically far away.

Ha

“I am very happy for you, Babs,” she said. “I know you thought you were doomed to spinsterhood even though you had several quite eligible offers over the years. But you waited and found love.”

“Ha

The flush deepened in her cheeks, and she lowered her needle again.

“No,” Ha

“But—” Barbara set the cloth down on her knee before she had worked even one more stitch. “But you were in no fit state to make such a momentous decision at that particular time. You were so terribly upset. Justifiably so.”

“I had a guardian angel,” Ha

“But Ha

“He was only fifty-four years older than I was,” Ha

She turned her head rather sharply to look out through the window.

Tears? Tears?

“Ha

“I am home,” Ha

Her friend gazed at her with unhappy eyes.

“Come for my wedding,” she said. “You can stay with Mama and Papa. The cottage will be nowhere near up to your usual standards, but I know they would love to have you. And it would make my wedding day complete if my dearest friend was there. I know that Simon wishes to meet you. Oh, please come.”

“He will not wish it when he knows what I have become,” Ha

“Come anyway,” Barbara said. “They will love you for yourself, as I do. I am straitlaced and puritanical, Ha