Authors: Cynthia Wright
Clive Speed forgot his place and rushed to the aid of the dazed-looking Grey. "My lord, may I present to you the Countess of Faircastle."
"Hello, Grey," Alycia said softy, extending her hand. "How very pleased you must be to be home."
Chapter 10
April 1-2, 1814
"Pleased to be home?" Grey repeated as his mind whirled crazily, attempting to make sense of the present situation. Once again, Speed had tried to warn him, and he had interrupted with another barrage of self-absorbed prattle. "Pleased to be alive, my lady, but rather more confused to be home. Nothing is quite as I expected."
"Life rarely is, so I'm told." In spite of herself, Alycia felt her heart go out to him. "You must call me Alycia, you know. We're old friends."
Speed made unobtrusive good-byes and disappeared, leaving them alone in the vast hallway lined with flickering oil lamps.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Grey said harshly, "but I am. I'd hoped—"
"That I would still be waiting for you, as I did during the first two years you were away? Waiting even after you turned away from the love I offered and took another as your wife?" She paused to calm the bittersweet throb in her voice, then continued more softly, "If I believed that you had truly loved me and simply made a mistake when you wed Mrs. Burke, I might have waited. However, I forced myself to be honest for the first time. You are a hard man, Grey, and have grown harder as you've aged, I think. That does not diminish your many excellent qualities, but I finally had to face the fact that you were never going to offer me the tender romance I longed for." They were walking slowly toward the front door as Alycia spoke. "I used to fool myself, thinking that our next meeting would be the occasion on which you would reveal your tender, loving side. Sad to say, that day never did come."
Memories flooded back to him of their romps in bed, the sound of Alycia's laughter, her knack for having everything just as he liked it, from the soap in his bath to the way his meat was cooked. And he remembered feeling her gaze and turning to look into her great, sad eyes so filled with longing. Sometimes Grey had wished that she'd forgotten the soap or botched his dinner, and toward the end, the sight of her hungry gaze had made him want to bolt. There was no use denying the truth now that he wished it were different. Looking at her now, contented and big with Faircastle's child, Grey realized that there was no more point in defending himself to Alycia than there had been in trying to lure Speed back to his side.
"I suppose I was a fool, and may be yet," he said ruefully.
Tears sparkled in her eyes. "You never understood that I needed more from you than even the house and security you were afraid to give me. After your marriage, I resolved to change my life. I did not want to end like the many aging 'fashionable impures'—entertaining old titled gentlemen who continue to keep them in style. Edward offered me not only security, but love." A smile faltered on her pretty mouth. "You see, I really had no choice."
"That's quite plain." He put his hand on the door handle. "I wish you happy, Alycia."
"Thank you. I hope, with all my heart, that you will find peace now, Grey. So much has changed for you—and how sorry I am about David's death! Such a shock to us all. But, knowing you as I do, I have no doubt that you will cope brilliantly with the challenges ahead. I shall keep you in my prayers." It was all Alycia could do to refrain from inquiring about the scar on his hand and reaching out to touch the silver hairs that had not been there when last they'd met. She longed to urge him to take care of his health but knew she must not. It was no longer her place. Perhaps it never had been.
Grey bent to kiss Alycia's hand so that she wouldn't see his face. Then, stepping into the starry London night, he added, "I'll be grateful for your prayers, my lady. I've a notion that you're a good deal nearer the ear of God than I."
* * *
"Was your dinner with Mr. Murray
very
grand?" Adrienne Beauvisage demanded as she perched on the edge of her cousin's bed. "You must tell me everything!"
"I'm afraid there really isn't very much to tell that would interest you," Natalya replied a trifle apologetically. "Mr. Murray and one of his associates named Laurence Poole took me to dine at the Clarendon Hotel in Bond Street, which I was curious to see since that is where Grey—that is, Mr. St. James—would have had me stay had I not encountered you in Piccadilly. The chef's name is Jacquiers, and Mr. Murray told me that he was a refugee from the revolution in France. We had an excellent meal, cooked in the French style, and Mr. Murray and Mr. Poole flattered me excessively. They made a gift to me of a presentation copy of my book."
Adrienne rushed to retrieve it from the side table near the door, her long, lustrous hair flying out behind her. Watching her, Natalya was poignantly reminded of the girl-child she had known at Chateau du Soleil, the innocent her parents held still in their memories. Wonderingly Adrienne ran her fingers over the handsome volume of
My Lady's Heart,
bound in morocco and stamped in gold.
"How very peculiar it is to think that my own cousin is an
author
," she mused. "Will you be celebrated like Lord Byron—or Miss Jane Austen? How I adored
Pride and Prejudice!
I have heard that she is not very pretty, though, and cares nothing for society. She lives very quietly in Hampshire and comes to London to visit her brother very infrequently. Only think, cousin, how easily you might eclipse her!"
"I assure you that I have no such ambitions, Adrienne," Natalya protested, with perhaps more vehemence than was called for. In truth, she was discovering that the prospect of becoming the toast of London, if only for a few days, was not altogether distasteful to her, and she wondered at such vain impulses.
"Will you be
very
rich?" asked Adrienne.
"Haven't you been taught that such questions are entirely inappropriate?" Natalya smiled to soften the gentle rebuke.
Adrienne grimaced. "I beg your pardon, Talya, but I couldn't help myself. I hoped that one was allowed to breach etiquette with one's relatives."
She laughed. "So one should. No, I doubt that I'll be very rich, but I do believe that I may have independent means. Mr. Murray says that my book has earned nearly a hundred pounds for me in the month since its publication. I'll admit I am very excited. And, he has presented me with a handsome payment in advance for the novel I am currently writing."
After absorbing this with wide eyes, Adrienne remarked, "Mrs. Sykes says that Mr. Murray offered Byron a thousand pounds for
Giaour
and
The Bride of Abydos
last year."
"Truly?" she laughed. "Tactless child! But then, Byron is at the pinnacle, isn't he? I hardly think I ought to aspire to such heights." She paused, then added wryly, "At any rate, not just yet, hmm?"
"I didn't care for either
Giaour
or
The Bride of Abydos,"
Adrienne confided, "though I didn't say so in company for fear of being shunned. I found them both to be quite nonsensical and barbarous. I daresay I shall like
your
book a thousand times better, no matter how little Mr. Murray paid for it."
"Your loyalty is touching, dear cousin," Natalya replied, trying not to betray her amusement. "Now, I wish that you would tell me about Miss Harrington's Seminary for the Daughters of Gentlemen. How are you progressing with your studies? And how does Miss Harrington feel about your not living at school any longer? I must say, I find it queer that she would condone such an arrangement without first receiving Uncle Nicky's approval."
Adrienne squirmed on the bed. "There simply wasn't time to write Papa and Maman and wait for a reply that might never arrive. You must be able to see that my life here with Mrs. Sykes is
far
superior to my dreary existence at Miss Harrington's Seminary." Her expression at the mention of her school conveyed her distaste.
"I still do not understand why Miss Harrington allowed you to leave. Do you continue to attend school in the daytime?"
"When it is convenient," Adrienne replied vaguely. "Oh, all right, I shall tell you the truth, but you must promise not to scold me."
"No such thing," exclaimed Natalya. "Now, kindly enlighten me."
Her young cousin began to twist a long strand of hair round and round her finger as she said reluctantly, "When Papa sent me the latest payment to give Miss Harrington, I kept it. I told Miss Harrington that the war had drastically reduced my father's circumstances and he could no longer afford to keep me at her seminary. Mrs. Sykes spoke to Miss Harrington personally and assured her that I would have the best of care here, as would Venetia, and the deed was done."
Barely concealing her horror, Natalya inquired, "And Uncle Nicky's money? What has become of it?"
"Why, I gave it to Mrs. Sykes, of course. It was very little to offer in return for her tremendously unselfish generosity. How much she has taught me! And the routs and assemblies, even at this time of year, have been too thrilling for words! Can you imagine how it will be when the Season begins in earnest? When Papa sends more money, Mrs. Sykes promises that I shall have gowns worthy of a princess." Adrienne's lovely, innocent face was flushed with excitement. "Already I have gained the notice of a handsome baron, one of the Carlton House set. Mrs. Sykes assures me that I'll have a dozen proposals of marriage to choose among before the spring is out." She put a hand out toward her cousin. "Is it not wonderful? You really ought to stay on, Talya. I know that you're rather past the age most men consider marriageable, but you haven't lost your looks yet, and if you become celebrated for your book, your age might be overlooked. Mrs. Sykes would be a great help. She's quite knowledgeable about such matters."
Natalya took her cousin's outstretched hand, smiling in spite of herself. "That's very charitable of you, cousin, but I'm not in search of a husband, and if I were, I would not enlist the aid of Mrs. Sykes."
"Is your heart set on that dashing viscount who brought you here?"
"No!" she cried, then took a breath to recover. "Let us return to the subject of
you
and your present situation. I can see that you are quite carried away by all that has happened, and I appreciate your feelings. However, I cannot help being concerned, particularly about the fact that Uncle Nicky and Lisette are completely uninformed about all this."
"Don't say you mean to
tell
them?" wailed Adrienne, squeezing Natalya's hand to the point of pain. "Papa is so old-fashioned, he would spoil everything! Oh, Talya, if you see to it that I'm sent back to that horrid seminary for young ladies, I shall simply wither away and
die!"
"I highly doubt that," her cousin replied. "Now there's no need to predict doom, Adrienne. No one shall lock you in a dungeon. I simply want to remind you that you are only seventeen and still under the protection of your parents, and you have deceived them. Uncle Nicky would throttle me if he learned I had been a party to this. I realize that at your age you believe you are a woman, but I can assure you that you are not. You're a Beauvisage through and through, impetuous and eager for adventure, but—"
Adrienne pulled her hand away and mimicked, "But, but, but! I vow, cousin, you are sounding like a proper spinster! You may be younger than Mrs. Sykes, but her attitudes are far more enlightened. If I'd known that you meant to spoil everything, I never would have begged you to stay with us, or confided in you. I thought that you cared for me!"
"I do care, dearest, more than you know," Natalya replied, sighing. Obviously there was no way to resolve this situation in one evening, and it would do no good to upset Adrienne further. "Pray don't be angry with me. I only worry because I love you. Perhaps I am being overanxious. Let us enjoy our time together and not speak of this again for a day or two."
"Mrs. Sykes was going to invite you to accompany us to a rout tomorrow evening," Adrienne muttered, "but perhaps you are above such amusements."
"On the contrary, I would like it immensely." Natalya gave her a winning smile and opened her arms. "Do give me a hug, puss, and let us cry peace." The cousins embraced, and Adrienne retired for the night, faintly reassured.
Alone in her ornate crimson-and-gold bedchamber, Natalya stood and stared about her in distaste. There was a quality to the furnishings in her room that she feared was rather vulgar, and unfortunately the rest of Mrs. Sykes's house was decorated in much the same manner. The style was a bit too grand to be in good taste and only added to Natalya's vague sense of unease regarding Adrienne's situation. Pacing restlessly to the window, she drew back the velvet drapery and looked down on the cobbled street. Hacks and carriages clattered by under the streetlamps and starlight, and she wondered who the passengers were and where they were bound. Suddenly Grey St. James pushed past her concerns about Adrienne and Mrs. Sykes to fill her thoughts. Where was he tonight? Natalya wondered. Dancing at a fashionable rout? Gaming with old friends? More likely he was in the arms of a lover, she thought, and her heart tightened. Certainly he must be far too occupied to spare a thought for her....