The Gilded Cage Read Online Free PDF Page B

touch of a man. Her reputation for chastity was ill-deserved, for she had never once been tempted to lose it. When a man touched her, she didn’t feel revulsion; she just felt nothing, even from gentle, strong Horatio, whom she liked so well.
    Bell’s cheeks flooded with heat at the thought of what this lack had driven her to do lately. Sin. Sin of the blackest and most depraved kind.
    â€œBell?” Horatio saw her rigid back, the way one hand gripped the faded curtains. He sighed. “I’m sorry I upset you. I’ll go.”
    Bell spun, her honey-colored eyes worried. “You’ll come back?”
    The question hung in the air while they heard the carriage outside. Hooves clattered to a halt, and Bell turned to look out the window. “It’s Ned and Columbine,” she said. “I didn’t expect her until the early hours of the morning.”
    They were both silent as they waited for Ned and Columbine. Bell wanted to beg Horatio’s pardon, to ask for his patience. Horatio toyed with giving Bell an ultimatum, of threatening never to return to the house again. And then, fleetingly, Marguerite’s vivid blue eyes, young but so suggestive, flickered in his mind. He pushed away the image of the white breast, the small fingers with childishly bitten nails brushing against his. He felt himself stir again.
    â€œDamn,” he said fiercely, and Bell looked at him, startled, just as Columbine swept into the room.
    Her black velvet cloak whirled as she tossed it into a chair. “A fine start to the new year,” she said. “How do you do, Mr. Jones. Bell, how lovely you look. I hope your evening was pleasant, at least.”
    â€œVery fine, Mrs. Nash,” Horatio said politely. His eyes were on Ned, who greeted them stiffly and crossed to the fireplace, his hands in his pockets. Usually, Ned Van Cormandt was the soul of graciousness.
    â€œIt’s beastly cold in here,” Ned observed tightly. “Bell, you’ll catch your death.”
    Columbine looked at him sharply. She didn’t care for the omission of her own comfort. But then, they’d barely exchanged a word since they left the Hartleys and Columbine had refused to go downtown with him.
    Horatio quickly crossed to the scuttle. “My fault, I’m afraid,” he said. “I was just about to rekindle the fire.”
    â€œThank you, Mr. Jones, but Ned is perfectly capable of doing so.” Columbine gave her lover an eloquent look. “Mr. Jones, Bell, would you care for a brandy?”
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Nash, but I’ve stayed too long.” Horatio bowed stiffly to the company. “I’ll call tomorrow, if I may.”
    â€œOf course,” Columbine said. “We always receive on New Year’s Day.”
    â€œI’ll say good night as well,” Bell said gravely.
    Ned said good night and shook hands with Horatio and returned to poke the fire. Bell walked Horatio to the door. Silently, they looked their goodbyes, for there was nothing to say.
    In the parlor, Ned looked into the fire. Not turning, he said, “I would appreciate it if we could keep tonight out of the papers, Columbine.”
    Angrily, she sat erect in the armchair. “Are you suggesting that I’ll tell Mr. Jones to make that tragedy a headline for all New York?”
    â€œI don’t think it will do Devlin any good at all. Tomorrow I’ll ask Ambrose what he plans to do. If he refuses, I’ll see that Devlin gets a settlement.”
    â€œThat’s good of you, Ned.” Columbine sighed. “It’s been a very long night.”
    â€œI’ll go now.” Still without looking at her, he picked up his hat.
    Columbine stood. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what. Once, she would have felt the need to say something, anything so that Ned’s arms would go around her. But not anymore.
    â€œWe’re changing, Ned,” she said suddenly.