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allowed to marry. Then there would be no secret shame. It was
reprehensible of her father to have prevented it by withholding the letters,
and reprehensible for Mr. Kirkham to treat Evelyn so badly because of it.
Calista had no doubt that there had been other women for Mr. Kirkham before he
married. Young men were expected to know all about women. Sadly double
standards ruled the day.
    On the other hand, Calista thought more
charitably, if Mr. Kirkham loved Evelyn then it must have been hurtful to him to
learn that she had not only given her heart, but also her body, to another man.
She could still not believe that justified him treating her so cruelly over the
years. There was such a thing as forgiveness.
    She wondered if Blanche really would be
ruined by such a revelation and conceded that she might well be. Perhaps it
would not have been before their visit to Almacks. Her behaviour with Purbeck
at the ball had already shown her in a bad light. The truth of her birth might
at the very least be one more strike against her in the society to which she so
desperately aspired. It would also ruin Evelyn, and that was something that
Calista did not want to see happen.
    “Life is not fair,” she said out loud as
she climbed into bed. “People are not fair.” She sent up a silent prayer that
Evelyn would be safe from censure and that one day she might be able to marry
Mr. Benedict.
    Then, as happened so many times last
thing at night, Calista’s thoughts turned to the colonel. She began to wonder
why Lady Bedlington thought he might be in danger. He was a man who was more
than capable of taking care of himself, of that Calista had no doubt. She
wondered where he had gone when he left Almacks. He had not returned to Lady
Bedlington’s as far as she knew.
    Instead of going to sleep as she
intended, she went to the window and curled up in the window seat, looking out
in the hopes of seeing him return. With her head rested on the cool window
pane, she began to doze.
    It was much later still when she became
vaguely aware of being carried in strong arms to her bed, and then covered with
a blanket. She was sure she dreamed it all, including the gentle kiss on her
lips that followed. She awoke the next morning and found that she was indeed in
bed, with no memory of having got into it herself.
    At breakfast, with they took in their
sitting room, Blanche was surprisingly cheerful, and even more surprisingly,
attentive to her mother. “Let me pour your tea, Mama, dearest,” she said,
picking up the teapot. “Would you like some honey for your bread? No, I shall
spread it for you. There.”
    “Thank you, dear,” said Evelyn. Whilst
Calista was immediately suspicious about Blanche’s sudden ministrations, Evelyn
seemed relieved. “You are in good spirits this morning.”
    “Love has softened me, mama. I
understand now how you felt about Mr. Haywood, and I wish to apologise for my
unkindness. To you too, Calista. I had no idea that love could be so
overwhelming, so all-encompassing. Why, I could become a poet!”
    “I’m glad you’re happy,” said Calista,
hiding her own reservations. “Are we to assume Mr. Purbeck is the lucky man?”
    “Why of course? Who else?”
    “You danced with a lot of handsome men
at the ball last night. Anyone of them might have won your heart.”
    “You do say nice things, Calista.
However, despite my popularity at the ball, it is indeed Mr. Purbeck who has my
heart. Our shared troubles have brought us closer together. And you need not
worry. I have written to him this morning, censuring him for his hot-headed
behaviour with the colonel and demanding that he apologise.”
    “So are all your thoughts of revenge
gone?” asked Calista.
    Blanche laughed heartily at that. “I was
embarrassed and ashamed last night, so do not know what silly things I may have
uttered in the heat of the moment. As if I could have any bearing on Lady
Bedlington’s standing in society. No, I have had time to think and