Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress (30 page)

“But really, Alicia, you ought to have summoned me at once,” said Lavinia Alston for the fourth time. “If I had known that you were back in town, I would of course have cut my visit to Elizabeth short. I…”

“It isn't of the least consequence, Cousin Lavinia,” interrupted her charge. “The Season has barely begun, and I have gone out only twice. In any case, I am getting beyond the age for a chaperone.”

“Nonsense!”

“Everyone knows me, and…” Alicia broke off as she remembered Ian MacClain's conclusions about her. Would he have judged her differently if Lavinia had been there? Could she perhaps be mistaken? With a quick shake of her head, she dismissed the idea.

Her companion watched her face. Lavinia Alston had always considered herself a forceful woman, and her schoolmates and fellow inhabitants of Woosley-on-Marsh, where she had lived most of her adult life, would undoubtedly have agreed. But since coming to live with her remote third cousin Alicia seven years before, her certainty had begun to waver. She did not understand exactly how it came about, but Alicia usually managed to do just as she pleased, even when Lavinia disapproved. It was not that she was afraid of the girl; indeed, she had a great deal of affection for her. And she was twenty years older and firm in her opinions. But somehow, this never seemed to suffice. They didn't quarrel, but some force in Alicia inevitably overbore all other considerations. Often, Lavinia recalled her life in Woosley with fond regret. It had been very comfortable. She had had enough money, though not the lavish supply she could now command, and she had been quietly content breeding her King Charles spaniels and exchanging gossipy visits with her neighbors. She might have refused when the Duke of Morland had descended upon her in a dazzle of magnificence and requested her services for his daughter. But of course she had not been able to resist. And the seven years had certainly included exciting moments. Whatever else might be said about Alicia, she was never for a moment dull.

Yet today, Lavinia sensed some change. For one thing, it was quite uncharacteristic of her to break off in the middle of a sentence and stare frowning into the distance. Even in the few hours she had been back, Lavinia had found her cousin curiously abstracted. What had happened, she wondered, in the week Alicia had been in London? “Where did you go?” she asked, hoping for some clue.

“Go?” Alicia turned puzzled blue eyes on her.

“You said you went out twice.”

“Oh. A musical evening and a rout party.”

Lavinia waited for her to add that they had been sadly flat, and when she did not, looked at her even more closely. The look of boredom in Alicia's eyes had indeed disappeared—a startling enough development—but it had been replaced by an expression Lavinia could not identify, and she did not find it particularly reassuring. What could Alicia be up to now, she wondered uneasily?

She did not find out. She ventured a few more questions, receiving monosyllabic replies, and then went upstairs to unpack. If Alicia's strange mood persisted, she would make her own investigations.

A morning caller who arrived a half hour later was more forthright, asking Alicia straight out. “For I know you are up to something,” she finished. “You
must
tell me all about it.”

Alicia looked at her dearest friend with a half smile. She and Emma Monroe had come out in the same Season and formed a lasting bond the moment they met. This hadn't changed when Emma became Lady Winthrop six months ago. Her marriage hadn't seemed to alter her at all. But when she started to tell Emma the story of the last few weeks, Alicia hesitated. She could be sure of sympathy and outrage to match her own over the way Cairnyllan had treated her, but she was suddenly reluctant to expose her feeling even to a dear friend. She was still very upset, she realized then. She had thought the incident safely buried, but Emma's warm interest brought up such a surge of tangled emotion that she couldn't bring herself to speak of it. “Up to?” she replied.

“Alicia! I have been in London only a day, and already I have heard the oddest stories. They say you have befriended some unknown Scottish deb, and that Robert Devere is paying court to her. Robert! And Roddy claims you have been in a foul temper for days and days. He says you snapped his head off at the Ellingtons' rout party. What is going on?” Emma's brown eyes were lit with curiosity and amusement.

“I really cannot be held responsible for Robert's flirtations.”

“Hoity-toity. And I suppose you were not seen to introduce the chit to him? Oh no. Nor to leave them alone together as soon as you decently could? And Robert never pays court to unmarried girls. You know that as well as I. You and he are up to something.”

Alicia hadn't thought her actions so transparent. Her friend's steady gaze made her a bit uneasy. “Perhaps I have decided to play matchmaker. Robert must marry sometime, I suppose.”

Emma shook her head in disbelief. Then her smile faded. “Don't you
wish
to tell me? Of course I would not pry into your affairs. But we have always…” She broke off, hurt.

This nearly swept away Alicia's resolve. She and Emma had confided every girlish secret; she had followed the progress of Emma's courtship and marriage in minute detail. But somehow, she could not reciprocate now. It was a wholly different matter to be rejected by the man you wished to marry.
Thought
you wished to marry, she corrected herself quickly. There was no longer any question of that. “Really, it is nothing,” she said. “How was your visit to the Winthrops'?”

This succeeded in diverting Emma. “Oh, Alicia, it was dreadful. Jack's mother would talk of nothing but grandchildren. I declare, I did not know where to look. And Jack did nothing but hunt with his father, so I was left with her the whole day. All the neighbors trooped through to stare at me as if I were a freak show. I was never so happy to return to town in my life.”

Alicia laughed. “Well, at least you have done your duty and need not go back for a while. The Winthrops do not come up for the Season, do they?”

“No.”

“Well, then.”

Emma stretched her arms. “You're right, of course. I've hardly realized I
am
back, I suppose. Have you seen Jane or Selina?”

They fell into an exhaustive examination of their mutual friends' plans for the Season and chattered at full bore until Emma rose and declared she must go. “Jack will wonder what has become of me. We are to lunch at my aunt's. Do you go to the Sherburns' ball tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Then I shall see you there.” And with a wave of her hand, Emma went out.

Left alone for the first time that morning, Alicia did not move. It was unlike her to sit in silent thought, but her mind seemed much fuller than usual, and she was in the unfamiliar position of not knowing precisely what she felt. She was sad about her new reluctance to confide in Emma, and slightly uneasy about the gossip evidently starting about her and Marianne MacClain. But there was something more wrong, something she could not identify. Alicia felt a discontent far stronger than the boredom and impatience with silliness she had experienced over the last year or so. In fact, she was suddenly overwhelmed by the notion that her life was empty. It seemed there was nothing to look forward to except a repetition of the parties, visits, and outings she had tired of already. She might achieve her revenge on Cairnyllan through Marianne, but that wouldn't change anything.

Alicia had a moment perilously close to despair. Her plans seemed pointless and petty, her actions ridiculous. But she didn't allow herself to sink beneath this onslaught. Straightening in her chair, she flung back her head and gazed haughtily at the striped wallpaper. It was just feeling so distant from Emma, she thought, that had brought on this melancholy. She would be all right as soon as she began doing something. And to hasten the process, Alicia rose and went upstairs to decide what ball gown she would wear tonight.

The Sherburns' ball was not one of the brilliant events of the Season, but Mrs. Sherburn had wisely scheduled it early so that her guests would not be lured away by other, more prestigious entertainments. She was presenting her only daughter to society this year and meant to do her utmost to make her a success. She had begged every cousin, godchild, and connection of her family to urge their own friends and family to attend, and as a result, she was highly gratified by the crowd that filled her reception rooms at nine that evening. “There is Lady Alicia Alston,” she told her daughter just before they went to open the dancing. “I feared she wouldn't come. You must be very polite when I introduce you to her. She has immense influence among the young people.”

“Who is that man she is talking to?” wondered Miss Sherburn. “He is very handsome.”

“That is Lord Robert Devere,” answered her mother repressively. “He is not a proper person for you to know.”

Miss Sherburn's mouth set in mulish lines, though she said nothing.

“My campaign is going very well,” Devere was saying at that moment. “Indeed, better than I could have hoped. Lady Marianne is…ah, amazingly receptive.”

Alicia felt a pang of uneasiness, but she said, “Didn't I say so?”

“You did.” Devere eyed her. Alicia looked ravishing, as usual, in a gown of shimmering silvered blue. But she did not seem in her customary spirits. This was becoming more and more interesting. “I must be off. The lady has promised me the first dance.”

Alicia merely nodded, but her eyes followed Robert as he walked across the room to Marianne, bowed over her hand, and led her into the set which Miss Sherburn had opened. Marianne looked radiant. She was obviously vulnerable to Robert's practiced charm. Why did this not give her more satisfaction?

“Alicia,” said someone behind her.

She turned to face Roddy. “Oh. Hello.”

“I asked if you wanted to dance,” he added.

“I don't know.”

“You really make a fellow feel welcome, don't you?”

“I'm sorry, Roddy. I was thinking. Let's do dance.”

They walked out onto the floor together and joined in.

“What's the matter with you, anyway?” said Roddy after a while. “You've been acting strange since before we left Perdy's.”

Alicia started a little and gazed at him. This was the last thing she wanted. “I? Nonsense, Roddy. It is all in your head.” And she launched into a determined stream of chatter to divert him from such ideas.

The evening passed in a routine that had become all too familiar to Alicia, but she exerted herself to seem the same to her friends, and by the end of the supper interval, she was satisfied that she was succeeding. Even Roddy no longer looked puzzled. And the rest appeared to have noticed nothing out of the way. She was finding the banter and gossip difficult to sustain, however, and rather than joining the dancing after supper, she slipped through the long red velvet draperies and out onto the terrace that ran along the back of the house. A small garden lay below the broad stone balustrade, and the scents of boxwood and verbena rose to meet her. The sky was clear and moonless, and the stars glittered coolly above. Alicia leaned her elbows on the stone and took several deep breaths. It was lovely to stand here in the fragrant silence and listen to the babble of the crowd inside. The contrast made her solitude the more precious.

But even as she thought this, she heard a step nearby, and a tall figure emerged from one of the other window embrasures and walked to the balustrade a bit further down. An evergreen shrub stood between them, so that the newcomer did not notice Alicia. She had recognized him, however. It was Ian MacClain.

To Alicia's annoyance, her heart began to beat faster. She was displeased at having her idyll interrupted, but at the same time, she felt an involuntary excitement at Cairnyllan's proximity. She tried to suppress it, and could not. Unseen, she watched him. He looked dissatisfied and impatient. The starlight cast deep shadows over his face, but Alicia could see his strong fingers drumming on the stone. Outlined against the lighted window, the lines of his body communicated vast, tightly controlled energy.

They stood this way for several minutes. Alicia was reluctant to move and be discovered, and Cairnyllan seemed happier outside the ballroom than in it. The country dance that had been playing ended, and the babble of voices rose higher. Then the curtains over the window where Cairnyllan had exited stirred again, there was a low laugh, and a man and woman came out very close together. “You see, it is much cooler,” said Robert Devere's voice.

“It's lovely,” murmured Marianne MacClain.

Alicia stiffened, but before she could react, Ian MacClain had spoken. “Just exactly what do you think you are doing, Marianne?” he asked.

The girl started visibly, and peered into the darkness. “Ian?”

“Indeed.” He strode forward and confronted them.

“I was just…getting a breath of air. It is terribly hot inside.” Marianne sounded both defiant and a bit frightened.

“And I suppose this…gentleman suggested a stroll?” His tone was so contemptuous that Alicia drew in her breath sharply.

“Robert Devere,” supplied the other. “I did, actually.”

Even from a distance, Alicia could see MacClain stiffen and his fists close. But Robert's tone had been supremely confident and unconcerned.

“Let's go back in,” urged Marianne, clearly hoping to escape her brother.

“You will go back in with me,” said the latter. “And I shall take you directly to Mother.”

“I won't. Come, Lord Devere.” Marianne turned on her heel and hurried through the draperies. After a moment, Devere followed her. Alicia could imagine his crooked smile.

Cairnyllan blew out his breath and started forward, then stopped, paused, and returned to the balustrade. He pounded on the stone twice with his fist, the picture of anger and frustration, then turned back to the ballroom. Alicia poised to move as soon as he was gone, but even as she leaned a little forward, the glorious song of a nightingale burst from the garden behind her, stopping Cairnyllan and making him look around. Alicia's skirt had swung out of shadow and now shimmered in the starlight. “Who's there?” asked Cairnyllan sharply.