Free Elizabeth Kidd by My Lady Mischief Page A

yet arrived.
    She made her excuses to go in search of Carey and found him with her husband in the billiard room. Kedrington was concentrating on lining up his next shot and her brother, a morose expression on his face, observed his opponent’s skill at the game with the look of a man who knows he will never be as good at something as he hoped.
    “Oh, what a good shot, Duncan.”
    He looked up, smiling. “My dear, you have never taken the least interest in billiards. How do you know it was a good shot?”
    “Well, that ball went into the pocket—isn’t that the object of the game?”
    “It wasn’t the ball I wished to put into the pocket,” he replied, racking his cue.
    “Well, how should I know that?” Antonia asked reasonably.
    “Is Elena here?” Carey asked hopefully, apparently as eager to call an end to his losing game as to see his beloved.
    “No, and that is why I have come. It is nearly eight o’clock, and neither she nor Mr. Melville has arrived. Could something have delayed them?”
    Carey glanced at the clock, frowned, and replaced his cue as well. “I had no idea it was so late. You should have come sooner, Tonia. I’ll go to Gloucester Place at once. Perhaps I shall meet them on the way.”
    Suiting the action to the word, he made a hasty exit, leaving the door open behind him. A moment later, the sound of the street door closing broke Antonia from her trance and she turned to find her husband gazing at her, one eyebrow raised quizzically.
    “Well, what?”
    “I only wondered what sort of punishment you mete out to guests who are late for dinner. Or is it only husbands who must bear your wrath?”
    “Oh, don’t be foolish. Anyway, you weren’t late.”
    “It was a near-run thing. I suspect only Robin’s presence the other day saved me from a scolding—or worse, a cold dinner.”
    “Which reminds me,” Antonia said, disregarding this nonsense, “I must see to tonight’s meal at once.”
    After she had taken Trotter aside and told him to hold off announcing dinner for a short time, both Kedringtons returned to their guests, to find them enjoying one another’s company with no apparent restlessness to get to their dinner, for which small favor Antonia felt excessively grateful.
    She was continually aware of the clock for the next half hour, however, even if her guests were not, and the effort to maintain her equanimity quickly gave her an ache in her neck and a dryness in her throat that finally propelled her into the library to seek relief in a surreptitious glass of brandy.
    She had scarcely crossed the hall on her return, however, when the front door opened and Carey came in, looking so unlike his usual cheerful self that Antonia, alarmed, came to an abrupt halt.
    Confirming quickly that all the doors leading off the hall were closed, she whispered urgently, “Carey! Whatever is the matter? Are you quite well?”
    “She’s not coming,” her brother informed her in a choked voice. He took a deep, half-choked breath and handed her a letter. Antonia opened it.
     
    Dearest Carey,
     
    I wish I did not have to tell you this in this way, but I cannot continue to deceive you. I cannot let our engagement continue. I do love you—I did not deceive you about that—but I am not the woman you thought me and I cannot involve you further in my sordid affairs. I can say no more now, but I beg you to forgive me and to believe that whatever pain I may cause you at this moment is no greater than mine on having to cause it.
     
    With all my love,
    Elena
     
    Antonia stood perfectly still for several moments, attempting to absorb the meaning of this amazing missive. She failed.
    “Carey—” Her brother started, as if he had forgotten she was there and had followed his mind’s eye to some other place or time.
    “I don’t understand, dearest. How has she deceived you? What sordid affairs could she possibly be involved in?”
    Carey shrugged, then spoke so quietly that Antonia could scarcely