Read Online Azalea by Brenda Hiatt - Free Book Online Page B

Blinking rapidly against the
darkness that seemed to be advancing on the edges of her sight, she
nodded vaguely to something her cousin had said.
    Think! Think!
    Christian had distinctly
told her, once upon a time, that Herschel not only detested
whistling, but that he had never learned to do it. And that tune—it
had been the same one she had heard Christian whistle in
Williamsburg. Azalea herself had been struck by Lord Glaedon's
uncanny resemblance to the Chris she remembered. Could he possibly be her
husband? How? How?
    Clasping her hands tightly together in her
lap, Azalea strove to organize her whirling thoughts. That he had
not recognized her was patently obvious.
    Or... was he merely pretending not to?
    She honestly didn't think so. Surely he
would have betrayed himself somehow, if only with a flash of
awareness at his first sight of her.
    And what of Herschel? If Christian was now
the Earl of Glaedon, then Herschel must also be dead. She and her
grandfather had heard no word of that tragedy, though she doubted
anyone would have informed them. But how could Christian possibly
have been alive all these years without her knowledge? And could he
have changed so much?
    The Christian she remembered had been a
carefree, easygoing young man with engaging manners, nothing at all
like the curt, cynical fellow she had met an hour ago. And he could
never have aged that much in only six years. She supposed he could
have received that scar in the shipwreck, but how could his whole
personality have changed so completely?
    What was far more likely was that Herschel
had taken up whistling late in life, perhaps even in tribute to the
younger brother he had lost. Likely, but... somehow she didn't
think so. That sense of familiarity had nagged at her from the
first moment she had seen Lord Glaedon. And when she'd heard him
whistling, she had known beyond any doubt, for one crystal-clear
moment, that he was indeed her Chris.
    But without any facts, she realized, her
guess was only wild conjecture. She must have the facts.
    Would they be common knowledge? If so, Lady
Beauforth could undoubtedly tell her what she so urgently needed to
know She had heard enough at dinner last night to realize that very
little of what went on in the fashionable world escaped her
ladyship's notice.
    The moment she had put off her cloak, Azalea
went in search of her hostess.
    Glancing up and down the empty upstairs
hallway, she decided that the corner room at the far end was most
likely Lady Beauforth's, as it was undoubtedly the largest. Before
she could reconsider, she walked quickly to the door and knocked,
more loudly than she had intended. Her cousin's startled "Yes?"
told her that she had guessed correctly.
    "It is I, Cousin Alice. Azalea. May I speak
to you for a moment?"
    "Of course, dear, come in."
    Azalea opened the door and
found herself in a chamber that bore no resemblance to the tasteful
decor of the rest of the house. Cousin Alice's boudoir was a
hodgepodge of antique and modern tables, chairs, étagères, pillows and
ottomans. Incredibly, there was even a stuffed elephant's foot in
one corner, with a bright pink cloth on top.
    Every colour of the rainbow was present,
though red and purple predominated, and every available surface,
including the elephant's foot, was crowded with a dizzying variety
of ornaments, valuable works of art competing for space with
obvious trumpery pieces.
    After a moment, Azalea succeeded in locating
her cousin among the startling assortment. Dressed in a magenta
wrapper, Lady Beauforth reclined on a chaise longue in the centre
of the room.
    "Yes, dear child, what is it?" she asked,
completely at home in her astonishing surroundings. "Is something
troubling you?"
    With a start, Azalea
recalled her purpose. "Not troubling me precisely, Cousin Alice,"
she began with studied casualness, "but I am curious about
something and was hoping that you could enlighten me." Ever eager
to be a source of information, Lady Beauforth