Joan Wolf (13 page)

“Valentine,” said Diccon charmingly. “I don’t believe you’ve met Lady Barbara. As you’ve been sharing the same dancing partners all Season, I thought you girls ought to be formally introduced.”

“How do you do, Lady Barbara,” I said politely. Up close she was even more beautiful than I had thought. Her eyes were the color of sapphires. Mine, alas, are quite dark, more gray than blue. I looked at her beautiful face and hated her.

Lady Barbara was looking at Martin. “Where have you been hiding yourself all evening, Mr. Wakefield?” she asked sweetly.

“I have been talking politics with Brougham,” he replied with dignity.

“It seems to be quite a political evening,” Diccon remarked. “I was cornered for half an hour by Liverpool and Sidmouth.”

Martin looked scornful. “Hah,” he said. “Two of the rankest bigots in London.”

“They are friends of my papa,” said Lady Barbara.

Martin looked even more scornful. “I know.”

“My cousin is a reformer, my lord,” I explained to Diccon. “A radical, if you will. He doesn’t approve of the old ways and is in favor of progress.”

“Is he, by God?’’ Diccon looked at Martin with great skepticism. “What precisely are you in favor of, Mr. Wakefield?”

“Parliamentary reform,” said Martin vigorously. “Universal suffrage; the secret ballot; more frequent general elections and an end to rotten boroughs and corruption at Westminster.”

“And what do you think all that will accomplish, Mr. Wakefield?” It was Lady Barbara.

“Greater equality among Englishmen,” Martin said stoutly.

Diccon’s eyes on Martin’s face were level and enigmatic. “What I think, Mr. Wakefield, is that if all you radical gentlemen stayed home and looked after your own land and your own people, we would see far more prosperity and equality in this country. When I think of progress I think of the factories of Leeds and of Bradford. There isn’t a tenant of mine in the Dales who isn’t better off than the poor wretches toiling in the cities under the shadow of progress.”

“People are being forced off the land, Lord Leyburn
.
”

“They are not being forced off
my
land,” Diccon returned implacably.

“You,” said Martin with flashing eyes, “you run your own little kingdom up there in Yorkshire.”

“You’re damn right I do.”

“You are medieval, my lord.”

“I am honest,” returned Diccon pleasantly. I knew that tone of voice and waited for the dagger. “I don’t go about spouting progressive ideas that make me feel moral without damaging my position.”

Martin’s back was ramrod straight. “Just what do you mean by that, my lord?”

“I mean that I haven’t heard anything about your renouncing your inheritance. You will be Lord Ardsley one day, will you not?”

“Are you accusing Mr. Wakefield of insincerity, Lord Leyburn?” asked Lady Barbara.

“I’m quite certain that Mr. Wakefield wants to
feel
sincere, Lady Barbara. But it seems as if all his ideas are theories only. It’s a sort of amusement, I suppose. People in London spend a great deal of thought and time and money on amusement.” Diccon spoke with a kind of cool detachment that was belied by the flicker of temper I saw in his eyes.

Without another word, Martin turned on his heel and left us.

“You were very rude, my lord,” said Lady Barbara reproachfully.

Diccon shrugged. “I see he’s lighted under the tropical hanging plants. I think you’d better go hold his hand, Lady Barbara. He might be about to cry.”

She gave him an uncertain look but walked off after Martin. Diccon turned to me.

“Are you going to insult me as well?” I asked affably.

“I might. What an insufferable prig that fellow is.”

“He is not,” I returned. “He is very nice and he is sincere.”

Diccon raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for that pap?”

“Not exactly.” I sighed. “Martin is truly in earnest about reform, Diccon. But I see your point too. He seems to want to do away with a good many things, but he seems to want to stay himself. I suppose that’s natural, but it is rather inconsistent.”

His face relaxed a little. “I have no patience with a fellow like that,” he informed me unnecessarily.’ ‘He will inherit a position of great responsibility and he’s all in a muddle about himself, his position, his power—about everything, in fact.”

“I like him,” I said stubbornly. “He may be a muddle, but he’s a very nice muddle.”

“Is he?” There was a strange stillness about Diccon suddenly as he looked at me. I looked back inquiringly, and another face appeared from behind the azaleas.

“There you are, Miss Langley. Lady Ardsley asked me to find you and escort you into supper.”

It was the narrow, clever, humorous face of Lord Stowe. I put my hand on his arm, nodded to Diccon, and allowed Lord Stowe to escort me to the supper room.

Martin and Lady Barbara were before me, sitting together under the displeased eye of the duchess, Barbara’s mother. Fifteen minutes later Diccon came in with a smoldering-looking brunette. They appeared to be absorbed in each other and I found I hated the unknown lady quite as much as I hated Lady Barbara. I was very glad when it was time to go home.

Chapter 18

Every Season the Marchioness of Ravensworth had a garden party at her home on the Thames and All the Best People attended. My grandparents, though long absent from society, were definitely Best Persons and so we were all invited to this annual alfresco affair. Borrow House was only a few miles outside of London and the day was delightfully sunny and warm. I wished I could spend the afternoon hacking a horse over the countryside instead of making conversation at a large party.

I didn’t know if Diccon would be there. I didn’t know if I wanted him to be there. I was in a worse muddle than Martin, I thought gloomily.

Borrow House was right on the river, and the gardens and the views were indeed beautiful. I strolled around with Grandpapa for a while, meeting and talking to a great variety of people. Then Lord Stowe came up to me and Grandpapa was hailed by one of his old cronies.

“Lord Stowe is going to show me the rose garden, Grandpapa,” I said, and he smiled and nodded, delighted to get me off his hands so he could settle down to a long gossip with General Rawley.

“I’ve been looking for you for an hour, Miss Langley,” Lord Stowe said as we strolled off together. “I was at the theater last night and the most hilarious thing happened.”

I looked up at him expectantly. He was one of the funniest people I had ever met. “Tell me,” I demanded.

He did. It was a long story that involved a Romeo who forgot his lines and a Juliet who had tripped and nearly fallen off her balcony. It was not so much what had happened as the way he told it that was so funny. I laughed so hard there were tears in my eyes.

We came out of the path and into the rose garden, and the first thing I saw as I looked around me was Diccon. Lord Stowe and I were still gurgling with hilarity.

“Valentine,” said Diccon, and nodded. He was not smiling.

I gave a joyous gulp and tried to compose myself. “Good afternoon, my lord.” I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and the sultry brunette of Carlton House made a sudden appearance.

“I’m Leyburn
,
” Diccon was saying to Lord Stowe.

“Stowe,” the young man replied with dignity. The two men looked at each other and I looked at the brunette. She was disgustingly voluptuous. No one made any attempt to introduce me.

“How do you do,” I said to the woman who was now standing next to Diccon. “I’m Valentine Langley.” I forced myself to smile.

“May I introduce the Vicomtesse Kirkton,” said Diccon. He looked annoyed.

The vicomtesse and I made polite noises, and then Lord Stowe said, “We must go find your grandmother, Miss Langley. She will be looking for you.”

“Yes,” I said. I nodded as haughtily as I could manage to the vicomtesse and barely glanced at Diccon. I smiled up at Lord Stowe and we walked back down the path we had come along. But all the time, as I laughed and chatted with my escort, I saw only one thing in my mind’s eye: the vicomtesse’s face as she had looked quickly at Diccon just before we left. No woman’s eyes had ever said more plainly, “I am one of your possessions.” I felt unutterably bleak. Lord Stowe was talking on and on about his mother and how she wished to meet me, and I nodded and smiled and listened with less than half my attention.

We found Grandmama, and Lord Stowe exerted himself to please her, for which I was very grateful. I was not feeling very sprightly myself.

We were sitting on one of the benches sipping iced punch when Martin appeared. His face looked as bleak as I felt. When he proposed taking me out in a boat on the river, I agreed promptly. There is a great deal of truth to the proverb that misery loves company.

We were drifting along in one of Lady Ravensworth’s little rowboats when I said to him, “Did you and Lady Barbara quarrel?”

He looked startled. “How did you know?”

“I’m not blind, Martin. Or stupid. I know you love her. And I know she is not uninterested in you.”

He rested his arms on the oars and regarded me drearily. “She says she loves me. But she won’t marry me, Val.”

“Why not?”

“Her father doesn’t approve of me. He says I’m a radical. He wants her to marry Leyburn
.
”

“You
are
a radical,” I pointed out.

“Yes.” He looked fierce. “And I cannot change my political views—not even for Barbara.”

“Good for you, Martin,” I said approvingly.

“I don’t feel very good,” he mumbled.

“I know.” I reached over and covered his hand briefly with mine. “Does—does Lady Barbara want to marry Lord Leyburn?”

“No. He frightens her, I think. But she is very much under her father’s influence. And he is set on the Leyburn alliance.”

“Has Lord Leyburn proposed?”

“No, thank God. He’s a slippery devil and proud as Lucifer. Who knows what he’ll do.”

“Hmph. He seems to be spending a great deal of time with Lady Kirkton.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, but he’s not about to marry
her,
Val.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not necessary,” he said.

I remembered the look on Lady Kirkton’s face and knew exactly what Martin meant.

“Well, I think it’s too bad of Lady Barbara to want you to change your convictions,” I said bracingly. “And I think she is an idiot to allow her father to dictate to her whom she is to marry. She is the one who has to live with the man, after all. Not her father.”

“Barbara isn’t spineless, Val,” he protested.

“She sounds it. I certainly wouldn’t let anyone marry me off to someone I didn’t care for.”

He was watching me with a small smile on his handsome fresh-skinned face. “I know that,” he said. “I doubt anyone could have moved you to do anything you didn’t want to do at age nine, never mind at nineteen.”

He was probably right. My father had expressed himself similarly on a variety of occasions.

“Are you quite certain the duke doesn’t like you?” I asked Martin.

“He thinks I’m poison.”

“Well, then, Lady Barbara will have to elope with you.”

“You’ve lost your mind, Val. Barbara would never do such a thing.”

“You said she loved you.”

“She says she does.” His gray eyes were very bright. “I know she does. She’d marry me in a minute if her father agreed. She doesn’t really care about my politics. It’s the duke.”

“Then eloping is the only way.” He opened his mouth to protest again, but I went on relentlessly. “Martin, do you or don’t you want to marry that girl?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then stop being such a mule and help me think of some scheme that will persuade her to elope with you.”

He looked scandalized. “Do you mean compromise her?”

“No.” I frowned. “There must be some way to shake her composure, Martin. One of the problems is that she’s too sure of you. You hover about her like a half-starved wolf.”

“Val.” He reached forward and took both my hands in his. “You marvelous wonderful girl. That’s it. I need to make Barbara jealous.”

I smiled with pleasure. “Of course. That’s just what you must do. But with whom?”

He beamed at me and raised one of my hands to his lips. “With you, Valentine, my darling. With you.”

Chapter 19

Martin docked our boat and helped me out with great solicitude. I bit my lip and tried not to giggle. When we were walking up the lawn, he took my arm and bent his head to murmur in my ear.

“We are being glared at from three different directions.”

I gazed up at him soulfully—at least I thought it was soulfully. In general, soulfulness is not just my style.

“Three?” I inquired.

“Barbara is standing with Leyburn pretending not to notice us. But she does.” Martin sounded very smug. “And your two swains are looking daggers at me. I only hope this doesn’t end in one or both of them calling me out.”

“Don’t go,” I advised, and batted my eyelashes.

He grinned. “I won’t. At least not with Sandcroft. He’d make mincemeat of me.”

“May I escort you back to your grandmother, Valentine? I believe she is desirous of your company.”

“Why, yes.” I glanced quickly up at Diccon’s face and then to Lady Barbara’s. There was a very faint line between her beautiful brows. Good. “Why don’t you show Lady Barbara the rose garden, Martin?” I continued. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our drive in the park.”

He gave me a very sweet smile. If he smiled like that at Lady Barbara, I didn’t see how she could resist him.

“Till tomorrow, Val,” he said, and we looked quickly away from each other before we burst into laughter. He moved off with Barbara and I turned to Diccon.

“You are behaving like a trollop,” he said to me coldly.

“What!”

“You heard me. Holding hands with that meretricious radical in full view of the entire population of this bloody garden party.”

“There is no need for you to swear,” I said with great dignity. “And speaking of trollops, where is your friend Lady Kirkton?”