Although Noelle had been absorbed in her conversation with Constance, she knew instantly what he meant. "Mr. Copeland, I can't take charity from either of you. You must understand that all I've really ever had is my pride."
"Rubbish! How can it be charity? In the past weeks I have interviewed that fool, Tom Sully, as well as consulted with several barristers. There is nothing I can do to terminate your marriage." Unvoiced was the knowledge that there was nothing he would do, even if he could. "Whether you like it or not, you are legally married to my son, so it can hardly be called charity."
Noelle shook her head stubbornly. "I have taken care of myself since I was ten, and I will keep on." She tried to make them understand. "When you don't have food or clothing or even a clean body, other things become important, like courage, pride."
"You talk of pride," Simon countered, advancing on her. "What of mine? Am I not permitted to care for my own son's wife?"
This was an argument Noelle understood. There was no way a man like Simon Copeland could back away from what he perceived as his responsibility. His pride was as fierce as hers.
Rising from her place beside Constance, she lifted her chin with determination. "There is something you should know, Mr. Copeland. My feelings toward your son have not changed. If anything, they are even stronger. I hate him, and I am going to make him pay for what he did to me. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I will make him pay."
"Fair warning," Simon said easily, "but it does not change my mind in the least. You are my responsibility now, and I will provide for you." He began closing the distance between them.
Impulsively Noelle darted a quick hand under the hem of her skirt and pulled out the knife, pointing its blade within inches of Simon's chest. Behind her, Constance gasped in alarm. Simon's face paled.
"This is the kind of woman I am, Mr. Copeland. The kind of woman you want Mrs. Peale to take into her home. I've been wearing this on my body since I arrived. I stole it from your kitchen because your son took mine. It didn't bother me a bit to steal your knife. I felt it was due me." She lowered the weapon to her side. "But what you're offering, I didn't earn, and I don't take what I haven't earned."
"All right, then! You can God damn well earn it," Simon roared, his face a mask of fury. "You will stay here with Mrs. Peale for a year. More, if need be. Then you will take your place in London as my niece and my hostess. I will pay you a generous salary, but out of that, you must give Mrs. Peale a monthly sum to cover your expenses with her. You must also pay for your own clothing, and, I warn you, I expect you to dress as well as any woman in London. By the end of one year you must be well versed in literature, history, and current events. You must know how to dress, pour tea, and engage in polite conversation. And, by God, if you can't do all of those things by the time the year is up, I'll throw you back on the streets and have every constable in London watching you, waiting for you to dip your hands into a pocket! Now, does that satisfy your damnable pride?"
The room fell silent as the two glared at each other. Constance held her breath. Noelle looked so enraged that Constance waited with horror-stricken certainty for the moment when the girl would again raise the knife that was clenched at her side.
There was the muffled sound of a pot banging from far below in the kitchen… a branch brushing against the window pane… then Noelle threw back her head and laughed so merrily that Constance closed her eyes and released a long sigh.
"It satisfies my pride very well indeed, Mr. Copeland. I am delighted to accept your offer."
Turning her back on Simon, she walked over to Constance and knelt on the floor in front of her. "Will you have me for a year, Mrs. Peale, and continue to teach me?"
"I shall be delighted, my dear." Constance reached out a gentle hand and tenderly brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across Noelle's thin face. "Provided, of course, that you call me Constance and stop wearing that villainous weapon on your body. I vow, Noelle, you shortened my life by at least a year when you pointed it at Simon." Constance shuddered at the memory.
Noelle grinned mischievously. "A most sensible suggestion. You know how bad-tempered I become when you nag at me about my printing. I might forget myself and pull it on you."
Constance's expression of disapproval was somewhat marred by the twinkling in her green eyes. "I will excuse you now to go to your room and put it away. Otherwise, I shan't be able to eat a bite of dinner, and Mrs. Finch has prepared a walnut cake."
Noelle nodded and, with a smile for both of them, tripped from the room.
Simon slammed a triumphant fist into the palm of his hand. "What a wife she's going to make for Quinn! Hire a tutor for her right away. And see that your dressmaker comes soon, Connie. I don't want Noelle in those rags any longer. Soft colors, I think, and not too many flounces. She doesn't need them. And, for God's sakes, do something about that hair!"
Constance shot up from her seat. "You are overstepping yourself, Simon. Do not dictate to me. When I agreed to take Noelle, it was with the clear understanding that you would not interfere."
"Interfere? Is that what you call it?"
There was such outraged innocence on his face that Constance would have been amused if she had not been so annoyed with his overbearing manner. "You were to give me a free hand," she reminded him coldly, "and not interfere with my decisions. Yet here you are dictating her wardrobe, her tutoring…"
"Dammit, Constance!"
"And you watch that vulgar tongue of yours in my presence," she snapped.
"So I'm vulgar, am I?"
With all their old hostilities biting at him, he stormed across the room toward her. For a brief moment she thought he was going to topple her, but he stopped just inches away.
"The way I see it, you're damned lucky I showed up when I did. We could have lost her after that fool thing you did with Finch. You know, after seeing you with her, I'm beginning to wonder just where your loyalties do lie. I asked you to keep Noelle here so that she and Quinn could be reunited one day, but from what I've just seen, I wonder if Noelle doesn't come first in your loyalties, with Quinn a poor second. Or maybe you just want her here to relieve your boredom."
"That's not true, and you know it. Nothing would make me happier than to see Quinn and Noelle together, but I don't want to have it happen on your terms, without her knowledge. She is a human being and deserves to have a choice."
"Are you saying you are going to go back on your word and tell her my plan?" His voice was low and threatening. "Because if that is what you mean to do, you're going to have that girl's future on your conscience for the rest of your life. Do you think she would stay here for one moment under those circumstances?"
Constance felt some of her anger begin to drain away. Wearily she dropped into the small chair next to the window.
"No." She shook her head. "Of course she wouldn't stay."
The room became very quiet. Something stirred inside Simon. She looked so fragile and unhappy, not at all like the self-sufficient woman he was used to seeing. Suddenly he felt like an overbearing bully.
"What do you plan to do, Constance?" he finally asked softly. "The deck is stacked, and it's all in your favor. It looks like it's your game."
Then he went to her and gently put his hand under her chin. Tilting it up, he looked at her almost tenderly. "Don't back out on me now, Connie."
Constance felt a tremor pass through her body. His lips were so close. Would they taste sweet? Her body filled with a longing fora more intimate touch. It yearned to mold naked to his, pliable and yielding. She envisioned him caressing her, burying his lips at her throat, moving them down to her breasts. The frenzy of his touch as she opened herself…