Sweet Awakening by Marjorie Farrell Page B

affection. He knew Clare very well, and knew she had worn the amethyst as a message of friendship. The sweetness of her nature was one of the things he loved her for. But for much of the evening, he had to admit, he was angry and heartsick. There was the necklace, fitting as perfectly as he had envisioned it, drawing compliments about Clare’s eyes, but he was not the man beside her basking in the glow of those compliments. He was on the sidelines watching her wear what he had meant to be his own betrothal gift with Justin Rainsborough as her betrothed.
    He was aware of the gossip. Who could not be? He had known about the wagers weeks ago and had ignored them. In fact, had he not been one of the objects of speculation, he would have bet on Giles Whitton himself over a flashy newcomer like Rainsborough. Which only showed what a fool he was. He responded to the veiled sympathy that was offered him by smiling and saying how pleased he was that Clare had found someone who could make her happy.
    It was a long evening, however, and his mouth was stiff from all the smiling. He was very aware of the betrothed couple, and when they disappeared onto one of the balconies, he had a hard time concentrating on his conversation with his companions. When Clare and Justin emerged, Giles noticed immediately that Clare’s neck was now empty and overheard her explanation to a curious acquaintance: “No, no, the pendant was not lost, although it may well have been. The clasp is defective, and luckily I discovered this before I did lose it.”
    The clasp defective, my eye and Betty Martin, thought Giles. Justin Rainsborough did not want his wife-to-be wearing anything that was a gift from a former suitor, even if that suitor was an old family friend. Well, I am not sure I blame him, Giles admitted to himself. It was sweet of you, Clare, but naive to think that you could carry some symbol of loyalty to our friendship into this marriage. Rainsborough expects all your loyalty to be with him, as well it should be. And he has begun as he means to go on.
    Giles slipped away early, eager to get away from the gossip and the looks of pity and the sight of Clare and Rainsborough waltzing together as though they were one person already and not still two.
    * * * *
    The next morning as Giles was finishing the morning paper in the library, his butler knocked at the door.
    “Come in,” he called.
    “I beg pardon, my lord, but a footman from the Rainsborough household just delivered this.” The butler held out a small brown paper parcel.
    Giles reached out and closed his hand over it, a puzzled frown on his face. “Thank you, Henley.” Whatever would Rainsborough be sending him? he wondered, as Henley closed the door behind him. And then, as he turned the parcel over, he knew. He opened the paper, and out slipped the amethyst necklace he had given Clare. It lay there on his desk, the jeweled pendant resting on a pool of gold chain, but all he could see was the way it had nestled in the soft hollow of Clare’s throat. He threaded his fingers through it and spread them apart, letting the pendant dangle and catch the sunlight.
    “God damn his small soul to hell,” he whispered fiercely.
    It was a fragile piece, which is what had drawn him to it in the first place, and the filigree broke easily as his fury took him over. The stone fell out and onto the floor and Giles ground it under his heel, wishing he could reduce it to powder and with it all the passionate longing which he had tried so hard to subdue. But it remained whole.
    How could she love Rainsborough, someone capable of such a gesture? How could she have turned her back on our friendship? Giles didn’t know what was worse, his desire for Clare, which could never be satisfied, or his sudden anger at her. She had betrayed her own affection and awakening passion for him. For desire had been between them, he was sure of it. He had just been so bloody careful with her. Instead, he should have swept