Chapter 47

"For God's sake, Betty! Amanda is a goddamn liar!"

Lady Byrne shouted loudly, made Ava and Mrs. Puck nearly jump from the seat.

"Do you forget when she came back from London, telling everybody she met the Prince Regent at the opera, and the prince asked her out for dinner?"

Lady Byrne shook her head in great disgust.

"That's a lot of damn nonsense! Only a blithering idiot will ever trust her."

Stung, Mrs. Puck shut her mouth and sank to the couch. Her anxiety reduced a bit. Lady Byrne was so convinced that everything was a lie. The lady definitely knew Amanda better than her, she wouldn't judge her harshly without a good reason. Perhaps it was just one of Amanda's made up stories.

"I daresay nobody knows he is very fond of painting."

Amanda knew one significant thing about him. How did she get to know such things? This was bad. Really bad. She wouldn't have an hour of sleep tonight.

Tomorrow was the last day. If he was playing the game, the final hours was the time to make the ultimate move. She was feeling anxious, doubtful and scared about what was about to happen, but she knew she was going to come anyway. Despite the uncertainty, somehow she was sure about one thing. He would not impose something unwelcome on her.

Day 7

"It was a good long time ago when he was still so young, sixteen or seventeen perhaps... I'm older than him... only by a year or two..."

She doubted it very much. From her look, Amanda was at least four or five years older than him. Sixteen or seventeen, she had exploited a boy sexually at the innocent age of sixteen! If it was true, she had committed a crime. It was almost as awful as rape! She had debauched an underage youth. Ava was so disturbed she couldn't keep it to herself, she told Polly about the unbelievably shameless hussy. She told Polly only about her unexpected meeting with Amanda when she was escorting Lady Byrne. Polly didn't know she had been seeing him these past days.

"How come did she exploit a young man at the innocent age of sixteen?! He was merely a boy at the time. It was child molestation!" she said in great disgust.

Polly didn't seem to share the same indignation at the woman's wickedness.

"That was hardly a molestation."

"Polly, he was underage!"

"Many men experience their first time one or two years earlier. They are hot and bothered like rutting stags at the period that you call innocent age. In this case, I'd rather call it a sharing of mutual interest and benefit."

Polly arched a brow as she continued chopping the vegetables.

"And I'm quite certain he doesn't feel he was molested or exploited at all."

"He was too young to have a sensible judgment and she took advantage of it. That woman was a lecherous cougar."

"You're talking like he was a victim. Believe me, even if he was, he was a willing victim. And even if the cougar really took advantage of him at first, I bet he took advantage of her just as much. Besides, he is probably no better than the cougar, maybe he also screwed with the servants."

"Polly!!!"

"Okay, maybe not. I guess a smug like him is too proud to do it with servants. The point is... I don't understand what makes you despise the so-called cougar. Even if the woman never... molested him as you said, he wouldn't remain chaste until now."

"I'm not talking about chastity, no. I'm talking about how could the cougar have a heart to... to deprave and corrupt a naive adolescent!"

Polly made a face.

"That smug a naive? Won't say so."

"That time he was, he was only sixteen!"

"Why are you snapping at me? What's the matter with you?!"

Ava sprang up from her seat and marched toward her bedroom door. A hot rush crept up on her ear when she heard Polly exclaimed a second before she closed the door behind her.

"Whatever the cougar did with him, it has nothing to do with you! What do you care?"

She sank down to the mattress. She would definitely forego dinner since she decided she wouldn't talk to Polly for some indefinite time. She heard her stomach gurgling. She only ate one or two bites for lunch, she must be hungry, but she had lost all appetite.

A few hours later in the middle of the night, she turned and tossed restlessly in the mattress. She was right. She couldn't have an hour of sleep.

***

Ashton contemplated the image of her in the canvas while waiting for her to come to his place for the last time. The last time, the last chance to be with her in this final hours.

After the clock struck twelve today, she would go and never come back. With the passing of time, she would fade into a distant memory. Years from now, she would be a thing of the past. But inside this canvas, she stayed and would never go away. Inside this canvas she would never be far. He would always have a piece of her with him. And it would be enough, it should be enough.

He stared at the blue asters in the vase, their petals shriveled up and dry. That was this infatuation supposed to be eventually. Just like these flowers, their beauty lasting for a very short time, soon it would be withered and dead before the season changed.

There was a soft knock and the door opened a little, and she appeared, coming into the room, looking at him shortly as usual, then she looked away and closed the door. This was the last time she walked past that door into the room. And the last time she would walk out of that door. She would never be here again after this. He watched her thoroughly, feeling an irrational urge to capture every bit of the moment, to memorize every single, meaningless thing she did from the second she appeared in the doorway.

Absurd, the way he thought about her with such a sense of melancholy, and a desperate feeling, like sadness, like loss. He was strongly infatuated with her, but he didn't have further relationship with her, he never touched her. He had been infatuated before, a few times, and there was a woman that once, was his biggest obsession, and was unforgettable until now. But he didn't feel like this when she was gone. He did miss the woman badly at the time, but not in this sort of way. At the time, he didn't feel sad and melancholy. When she walked to the commode, he left the room with a vague feeling, he didn't expect to feel this way when he started this in the first place.

Once he disappeared beyond the door, Ava took the costume and undressed quickly. She kept one eye on the door as she changed clothes, a little bit terrified by the idea that he would come into the room unexpectedly when she was half naked. Silly idea, he would have used a smarter trick to seduce her.

She was already sitting on the settee when he came back. Soon he noticed her unusual behavior and watched her furtively in thorough observation. She looked different today. She barely spoke and her eyes watching him with a curios alertness and interest at the same time.

"I tell you, those days were terrific. He was one of the greatest lover I ever had."

Amanda's words echoed over and over again in her mind. As she stared secretively at him, at his beautiful features, she couldn't help picturing what Amanda had possibly done to him. And what he had possibly done with Amanda.

She stared at his beautiful eyes, half hidden beneath his long eyelashes and imagined how would they look when they were gleaming with desire? How would it feel to be looked at with the gleam of desire by those mesmerizing eyes? To feel desired... by him?

She pictured Amanda kissing him, with the deliciously full lips of her, licking and teasing his lips till they parted and welcomed her tongue into the velvet heat inside. What would it feel like to taste him?

The thought made her feel lightheaded and out of breath, her heart beating irregularly and her palm sweaty. It always happened everytime he looked so awfully handsome, but today she didn't really understand why her feverish reaction to him was a bit too much. There must be something wrong with her. The next second she realized her neck and her face were growing damp as well. Was it because of her steamy thoughts or was it the stifling air?

Conscious of the curiously incessant stare from across the room, he glanced at her and caught her watching him. Usually her eyes would dart down and away, but surprisingly they didn't stray from him, her lips parted a little and her chest rose and fell slightly as if she had a difficulty drawing breath. What was going on?

"Are you quite all right?" he asked.

She licked her lips, that looked a bit pale, he just noticed, before answered.

"I think so."

Both of them realized her lips trembling lightly and her breath uneven.

"You don't seem well at all. I think you should rest on the sofa."

He got up and she watched him walking toward her, her eyes widened. He was a beautiful man, sleek and lean, and he moved with an apparent ease and an incisive authority. Savoring his broad shoulders, his wide chest and his slim waist that were so elegantly masculine, she resisted the impulse to glance down at the lower part of his body. Blast Amanda Chapman to mention his prodigious attribute.