Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress (38 page)

“I refused,” replied the girl, smiling.

“Oh, that's all right then. You're so young yet.” She finished working her fingers into her ivory kid gloves.

“It was Lord Devere, Mother,” said Ian in a sharper tone, as if he found her reaction incomprehensible.

“Devere?” Lady Cairnyllan looked from one to the other of them, smiling vaguely, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

“I spoke to you about him,” said Cairnyllan.

“Umm? Oh, yes, that attractive thirtyish man. You wouldn't have suited, Marianne.”

“I know, Mama.” Marianne was grinning by this time, and Alicia was having trouble with her own expression.

“I am going driving with Sir Thomas,” added Lady Cairnyllan. “I expect I shall be back for luncheon. Or perhaps not.” She smiled to herself. “You don't need me, do you?”

Marianne shook her head. “I mean to go to Hookham's to exchange my book, but I can take Annie with me.”

“You should not go out alone,” began Cairnyllan automatically.

“I shan't. I shall take Annie.” Marianne's blue eyes twinkled. “And Mama is going out alone.”

“No, dear,” replied her mother absently, “I am going with Sir Thomas. Is that a carriage?” She went to the window and looked down. “Yes. Good-bye, children. Lady Alicia.” Smiling still, she went out.

Cairnyllan stood very still, an arrested expression on his face, and Alicia could not resist saying, “Your mother seems to be enjoying London.”

“Oh yes,” answered Marianne. “In fact, I think she likes it better than either of us. Certainly better than Ian.” Both girls glanced at him, but he didn't notice. He was obviously trying to assimilate a number of new ideas. Alicia and Marianne exchanged an amused look.

“Sir Thomas is very attentive,” said Alicia. She was enjoying herself. Ian MacClain was always so certain he was right; it was a pleasure to see him dumbfounded. Perhaps if he admitted his mistake in one case…but she turned from this thought. She didn't really care what he believed.

“He is,” agreed Marianne, obviously feeling some of the same emotions as Alicia. “I believe he is sorry for what he did years ago.”

This made her brother raise his head. “Did? What are you talking about?” he snapped.

“Haven't you heard the story? Roddy told me.” Marianne giggled. “He couldn't resist, though he knew it was not quite the thing to gossip about my own mother.”

“What gossip?” Cairnyllan looked outraged, and disbelieving.

Her voice carefully expressionless, Marianne repeated the story of the long-ago romance, much as Alicia had heard it. Her brother's response was abrupt. “That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!”

“But why, Ian? Mama was a young girl once, too. And she naturally…”

“I forbid you to say any more about it,” he interrupted. And turning on his heel, he strode out of the room.

There was a short silence, then Marianne said, “Ian has always practically worshiped Mama. It comes from the way our father acted when he was small.”

Alicia nodded sympathetically. She too had seen the look of confusion in the earl's eyes. It could not be easy to have your ideal image changed. She remembered suffering through certain similar occasions with her father, and they had been far less radical.

“I think London is proving a further education for all of us,” added the other girl. “It's very strange.”

“You, at least, are profiting,” replied Alicia with a smile.

“Oh, I expected to; I'm not sure Ian
or
Mama is getting precisely what was anticipated.”

“I would be willing to wager they are not.”

The girls' eyes met, and they both giggled.

“Are you really going to Hookham's?” asked Alicia then. “I should be glad to go with you. They have a new novel I have been wanting.”

“Splendid.” Marianne jumped up. “I'll get my hat.”

Alicia was not surprised when Lord Cairnyllan sought her out as soon as he entered Mrs. Crestwood's ballroom that evening. She had been certain he would have more to say on the subject of his mother's past, and that, since she had been present when he learned the story, he would say it to her, among others. Coincidentally, a waltz was beginning, and he reached her just ahead of another young man, who looked disappointed. “Will you dance?” asked Cairnyllan.

Alicia didn't think of refusing. She was far too curious about his state of mind. They moved onto the floor and swung into the waltz. The movement diverted both of them from Lady Cairnyllan. Though Cairnyllan had been thinking of little else for the past day, he was now conscious of nothing but the feeling of Alicia in his arms. The top of her head came just to his chin, he realized; she was not a dab of a woman, as so many were, and he needn't feel a clumsy giant. She danced as if she had legs, and did not cling and hesitate in the way he detested. Her scent rose about them in a heady cloud. He was reminded of his earlier thoughts regarding Black Lady, and the nature of fillies, and a smile curved his lips. She was beautiful and spirited and obstinate, and with her so close, he could think of nothing but pulling her closer still, as he had done once.

His clasp tightened involuntarily. Feeling it, and seeing his smile, Alicia became even more aware of him. His palm was roughened; she could feel the calluses that came from hard riding and, presumably, work on his estate. She might have derided such a thing once, but it seemed somehow right for this man and not at all bumpkinish. The tightening of his arm had brought her eyes within three inches of his coat lapels, and the warm grip around her waist was pleasant. She ought to draw back, she knew; they were rather too near for propriety. But she didn't want to. The conviction she had felt on first knowing him—that here was an equal and her natural partner—recurred, as did a flash of memory from Perdon Abbey. That day had been like nothing else in her life before or since. But the recollection inevitably evoked the scenes that had followed as well, and Alicia's cheeks reddened slightly. She searched her mind for an innocuous remark, at the same time pulling a little away. “It is very hot, isn't it?” she managed. “I don't believe Mrs. Crestwood has opened even one window.”

“Perhaps she is not as fond of fresh air as we are.” His tone implied a host of meanings, and his blue eyes held hers for a moment.

Rightly interpreting this as a reference to their gallop, Alicia turned her head away. How dare he refer to it after the way he had treated her? But she found only the smallest spark of anger in her breast, and it was nearly stifled by a thrill of excitement Annoyed by her own susceptibility, she pressed her lips together. “Did your mother and sister accompany you tonight?” she asked.

Her diversion was successful. Cairnyllan frowned and looked around the ballroom. “Yes.” He saw Marianne dancing with an unexceptionable young man, and Lady Cairnyllan talking to some of the dowagers in the far corner. Relaxing a little, he added, “You should not take the gossip about my mother seriously, you know. Gossip is always exaggerated, and usually wrong.”

“I don't know what you mean by ‘take seriously.' I thought it a charming story.”

Cairnyllan's frown deepened. “Your style of life has made you far too fond of scandal.”

“And yours has made
you
completely misunderstand the meaning of that word,” she retorted. “There is no ‘scandal' in the story of your mother's and Sir Thomas's old romance. It is perfectly innocent. They were two young people who nearly married once; that is all.”

“My mother is not a hardened flirt!”

Alicia looked up at him in exasperation. He really was
so
obtuse. “No one imagines that she is, or was,” she replied. “I really cannot understand…”

“No, you cannot.” He hesitated, then slowly added, “My mother is…like a child, you see. The difficulties of her life—her disappointments and isolation—failed to crush her, but they drove her to a kind of naiveté. I had to do everything for the family. She has no understanding of the sort of thing you mean.” He sounded rather proud of this.

Alicia was unimpressed. “In the first place, it is not I who ‘means' anything whatsoever. I didn't begin the gossip, and I have not repeated it. But I wonder whether it was good for your family for you to do ‘everything'?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your mother and sister may have wished to do some things for themselves.” She smiled slightly. “I know Marianne did, and it might have done your mother good to take charge.”

“This is none of your affair,” he answered coldly, his face closed.

“No. And it is quite off the subject as well. I was merely trying to point out to you that the story of Lady Cairnyllan and Sir Thomas was touching and innocent.”

He did not look at her. “I wonder if you would feel the same if it were your mother?”

Alicia considered. It was a bit difficult to picture her lost mother, but she felt no distaste. As a further test, she imagined her father in the same position, then shook her head. Lord Cairnyllan was simply mistaken. Even when she thought of her father engaged in any number of desperate flirtations now—and as a handsome and eligible man of sixty, he might well be—she felt nothing more than amused condescension. Had he lived in London, of course, or been like the previous Lord Cairnyllan…this thought brought her up short, and she felt a flood of sympathy for her partner. It was no wonder he had distorted ideas about these things, having endured such a father. But it was time he saw the truth, before he hurt both his mother and himself. “Yes,” she said positively, “I should feel just the same. I am certain my mother had suitors before my father appeared, and I'm sure he courted other girls as well. You see it happening all around us.” She indicated the other dancers.

“This was rather more serious, and…Mother is not that sort of person.” He eyed a laughing debutante with distaste.

“Is it because she was, in a manner of speaking, jilted?” said Alicia. “It is not—”

“Nothing of the sort! I do not care to discuss this subject any further.” His face was set.

“But I was only—”

“It is hardly a proper topic for us in any case. Who is that young man dancing with Marianne?” Resolutely, he thrust the thought of his mother's romance away. It was wholly at odds with his image of her as a cloistered and martyred ideal to be protected and shielded by his care. That recent events had called that image into question, he refused to consider just now.

Alicia sighed and gave it up. There was no reasoning with the man. “That is Denniston. He is the son of the Duke of Selbridge. Very charming.”

“Marianne seems quite taken with him.” He frowned. “Why must she throw back her head and laugh so loudly? If she would only curb her natural enthusiasm a little…”

“Yes, she seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself. What a pity.” Alicia's sarcasm was unmistakable.

“You think little of my morality, I know,” responded Cairnyllan. “What you do not understand is that I am wholly responsible for—”

“Nonsense!” He stared at her. “You have convinced yourself that no one but you can look after your family, and that no one but you knows how they should go on. But your sister is an astonishingly sensible girl, who can judge for herself in almost any situation. Look at the way she handled Devere. And your mother seems well able to think for herself as well. Perhaps they are both weary of your ‘morality.'”

For an instant, he looked stricken. Since his earliest youth, he had thought of little but his family, and how to support their spirits and position. Along with caring for the estate, this task had been his life. And now this fashionable Londoner was suggesting that he had been mistaken, or that his duties were over. “You are very ready to offer advice on matters that are none of your affair,” he answered.

Alicia started to reply, then hesitated and smiled slightly. “I have often been told so,” she agreed.

Her capitulation surprised him. “I know that Marianne is growing up,” he temporized. “And soon she will marry. I shall be happy to see her settled with a suitable husband.”

“Of your choosing?” Alicia was still smiling.

“Well, I should hope that I…that is, if she should consult…” He grimaced. “Damn you, no! I am not a petty tyrant. If Marianne will avoid choosing some entirely unacceptable…”

“As she recently did,” put in Alicia.

“As she did,” he agreed savagely. “Then, of course, I will be happy to welcome the man she does settle on.”

“How generous!” Alicia grinned. “And since she has demonstrated her good sense, no doubt you mean to leave her to discover this paragon for herself.”

Cairnyllan glared at her, then very slowly began to smile. “I suppose so.”

“It will be terribly difficult for you.” Alicia was solicitous.

“You know, I begin to see why your father spends most of his time abroad,” he responded. “I daresay he prefers continual foreign travel to trying to deal with you!”

“Oh yes.”

He stared at her.

“Well, we are both strong-minded individuals, with decided opinions, and, though we love each other very much, we cannot seem to agree. So it is best we remain apart most of the time.” She paused. “Not that I deny him the whole of England, of course. He enjoys traveling. When the war was on in Europe, he toured India for nearly a year. So you see, it is not all my fault.”

Cairnyllan shook his head. “You are an amazing creature.”

“You are not precisely commonplace yourself, Lord Cairnyllan.”

Their eyes met, and they both smiled. “Do you think we might finish out our dance without arguing?” he wondered.

“Unlikely. But we might
try
.”

“Good.”

Silence fell. Alicia tried to think of some indisputable topic, and failed. She looked up to find the same perplexity in her partner's face. “It
is
hot, isn't it?” she asked teasingly.

He burst out laughing.

She smiled. “I don't believe I have ever seen you laugh so spontaneously. And I know I have never
made
you laugh. You are a very serious person, aren't you?”

“I?” He seemed surprised. “I am conscious of my duties, naturally, but…”

“And do you ever take time to think of
pleasures
, rather than duties?” As soon as she had spoken, Alicia wished the words recalled. She had been genuinely curious and had not meant the query as it sounded.

Cairnyllan grinned, but he seemed to read her reaction in her face. “I have had little time for such in my life,” he responded. “Yet I believe I enjoy a joke or a bruising ride or a meeting with friends as much as anyone.”

“You did not—do not think much of our London amusements.”

“No. I'm not interested in empty chatter, and half the people I meet do not at all share my concerns. I see no reason to waste my time with them.”

Alicia blinked. This was a new view for her. Though she had often felt bored, she had attributed it to the repetition of events. “But…if you became better acquainted with them, you might find interests in common.”

Cairnyllan shrugged. “Doubtful.”

She scanned his face. “You sound so certain. Have you never made a mistake in this area?”

Arrested, he met her eyes. Was she asking about his opinion of her? But he saw only curiosity in her gaze. Still, the question gave him pause. He had been shaken by some recent developments; for the first time, his judgments
were
wavering, and due to her. It might be useful to explore the subject.

But before he could form a reply, Alicia said, “Oh dear, we are about to argue again, I fear. However, I have thought of something we can discuss with no danger of acrimony.” Her pale blue eyes sparkled up at him.

“What is that?” he could not resist asking, though he was disappointed at the diversion.

“Horses!” Alicia was triumphant, and he smiled again. “You bought Black Lady, did you not?”

“Yes. She is being taken up to Scotland in easy stages.”

“I hope she will adjust to the cold winters. Will you hunt her?”

He nodded. “After she has been ridden a bit. She requires delicate handling.” For some reason he felt it important to add, “Our winters are not terribly cold. We are near the sea.”

“The northern sea.” Alicia shivered. “I suppose you live at the top of a great dark crag, with the spray dashing over your terrace whenever there is the least roughness.”

“Of course,” he agreed, smiling. “In a dread castle, with turrets and a dungeon liberally supplied with skeletons. My valet is, naturally, a hunchback.”

Alicia was laughing too hard to speak.

“Marianne and my mother are forbidden to mention it, on pain of the most dreadful torments. And I dabble in alchemy.”

“Enough! Enough!” Alicia gasped for breath. “You have given me my own again, and more. I thought you were not a reader of novels. Why, you might write them.”

Cairnyllan was smiling broadly. “I have heard that much from Marianne and some of her friends. And I have twice had to bear my sister's company in the small hours of the night, when she was terrified herself through reading such a book in her bed.”

This picture intrigued Alicia; it seemed so unlike him. “And what is your remedy for such terrors?”

“Hot milk and common sense,” he replied promptly, his face serious but his blue eyes dancing. “And I would add that our house is set well back from the sea, in a rather fine garden, and has no towers or turrets whatsoever.”

“How disappointing!”

They smiled at one another, more in charity than they had ever been, and both were sorry when the music ended and the couples around them broke up.