Alicia caught her sister. “Antonia, do not distress yourself,” she urged. “This is Lord Wyndham, my—” Her gaze flickered up at him again with that odd tinge of pride. “My very good friend. He will not tell anyone you were speaking to me.”
Alberta was gazing at him in fascinated awe, Antonia’s fainting fit bedamned, apparently. “This is your lover? But he’s so handsome and fine! Why must he pay for—” Alberta halted, hearing her own tasteless words. She looked at him with horror. “Oh! I’m s-sorry, my lord! I—”
Alicia pressed her twitching lips together as she looked at him. “Oh, he looks well enough on the outside, Alberta, but he has dastardly proclivities aplenty.”
Alberta only seemed further fascinated. “Really? Like what?”
“I eat tabby kittens for breakfast,” Stanton said dryly. “Fortunately, I’m not hungry at the moment.”
Antonia sprang upright like a jack-in-the-box to glare at him. Stanton stepped back. Really, they were the most alarming trio.
Her eyes still fixed on Stanton, Antonia grabbed Alberta by the arm. “I cannot believe you would stand here talking to a rake and his leman!”
Leman? Stanton slid a glance toward Alicia. “Did she actually say ‘leman’?”
“I fear so.” Alicia came to stand at his side, her arms folded. “And she wasn’t even embarrassed.”
Antonia reddened and yanked furiously on Alberta’s arm. “Papa!” she shouted back over her shoulder. “Papa, there’s an intruder on the grounds!”
Alicia sighed. “Oh, Antonia.” Then she took Stanton’s hand. “We’d better run for it. Papa is likely to lead with his flintlock and ask for names after.”
Stanton stood fast. “I don’t run for it. Ever.” His tone was grim. “Lady Antonia! Stop this ridiculous behavior at once!”
Antonia stumbled to a halt, a lifetime of obedience betraying her, as he’d known it would. He approached her slowly, Alicia’s hand still wrapped in his.
He bowed. “Lady Antonia, my deepest apologies for mocking you. It is true, I was not invited here today. It is also true that as the Marquis of Wyndham, I have been welcomed into your home before, so it is arguable that I am not quite the ‘intruder’ you claim.”
Antonia visibly deflated at that. Now her worried gaze was fixed on his, for offending a powerful acquaintance of her father’s might very well surpass the crime of speaking to her wayward sister in the garden.
Alicia squeezed his fingers. “Don’t frighten her, Stanton. She’s only doing the best she can. It isn’t easy being a daughter of Sutherland.”
Antonia’s gaze flickered to Alicia for a moment, and Stanton saw fury and envy and, beneath it all, longing. For the first time it occurred to him that Alicia, even in her disgrace, seemed more contented and more self-assured than either of her more well-behaved sisters.
Voices neared. Alicia tugged at him.
“We ought to go. It will not be good for Alberta and Antonia if we are found here.”
Stanton allowed himself to be pulled into the concealment of the wood like a common thief for the sake of Alicia’s sisters, but he found the entire encounter disturbing.
What sort of house was this, where ruin was preferable to respectability?
16
Wyndham said little to her as they walked back through the wood to the Cross estate. Alicia tolerated it for a while, for her thoughts were filled with her sisters’ situation.
She’d been so wrong not to realize what they were going through as a result of her ruin. Oh, she’d known they would be embarrassed, and that the entire family might lie low for a Season—which indeed they had. Five Seasons, to be precise.
But her father was an earl! Surely such connections outweighed one blot on the ledger of such an old and respectable title.
She said as much to Wyndham, who stopped to turn and stare at her in disbelief.
“Do you not realize that your father is the last of his line?” He sent a sympathetic gaze back toward the house. “Had he a direct heir,” he explained, “or if there was a young and viable Earl of Sutherland on the horizon, then of course Society would turn a much blinder eye to one young lady’s indiscretions. But why should anyone try to stay in the good graces of a family who is already on their way out?”
“Out?” Alicia stumbled. Wyndham’s hand came out to support her, then was immediately withdrawn.
She stayed where she was, stricken. “Out?
Wyndham frowned at her. “Of course. Do you not see what is right before your eyes? This estate is nearly abandoned, the house a ruin. Sutherland is many thousands of pounds past destitute. I would be surprised if the Crown didn’t seize it eventually.”
“I—I never realized.” Alicia sat abruptly on a fallen log. “I knew we had less than others . . . and I knew my father wanted us to wed wealthy . . .”
“Hell, yes.” Wyndham shook his head. “I feel for your father. A hundred years of debt and the burden of three daughters to boot. Poor bloke.”
Alicia jerked her head up at that. “Our sex is not our offense to apologize for.”
Wyndham gazed back at her. “I mean no disrespect to your sisters. I’m sure they are doing their best to be good daughters.”
The shot went deep, whether he meant it to or not. “Unlike me, you mean.”
He did not drop his gaze. “You made your choices. Everyone in this world must bear the consequences of their actions.”
Alicia felt her fingers dig into the punky wood of the log. “Not everyone, Wyndham. Not by far.”
He folded his arms. “You still make no apology for the position in which you have placed your family? You must realize what you did to them.”
His eyes were dark and unreadable, his face stern. He disapproved of her still, last night notwithstanding.
And what about last night would have convinced him that you are anything but precisely what he thinks you?
Alicia wanted to shout at him, wanted to fling sticks and stones and dead leaves at him, wanted to scream at the top of her lungs that it wasn’t her fault!
Then again, she’d tried that before, many times, minus the dead leaves of course, and it had never made the slightest difference. Nothing would erase that stain, nothing but her death, and even then it was likely that her family would bear the tinge of it for generations.
So instead of pelting his blasted face with woodsy detritus, she unclenched her hands slowly, brushed them together with studied care and stood.
“I’ve caused you to miss the morning activities Lord Cross had planned for the gentlemen,” she said coolly. “How careless of me.”
She walked past him, striding down the path, away from Sutherland and all the black doubts and blame it held. “Come along,” she called over her shoulder. “I heard there will be shooting along the river. Gentlemen love shooting, do they not?”
Stanton followed her more slowly. Perhaps he ought not to have taunted her so about the past, but he’d hoped to break through to her some way, any way—
Any way that didn’t involve breaking the habit he’d so severely bent last night. One more strain on his control and he didn’t think it would hold—and once unleashed, he didn’t know that it was possible to bind that other man ever again.
He wasn’t sure it was possible even now.
Once back at the manor house, Alicia made the barest of courtesies to Wyndham for his escort home and escaped into the very place she’d fled earlier that morning—the ladies’ parlor.
As she’d expected, the room was too warm and close with assorted perfumes that stifled the fresh air so recently in her lungs. Alicia engaged another woman in conversation, not caring if she was lady or mistress or serving help, so desperate was she to escape the circling thoughts brought on by her journey home.
“Oh, heavens! What are they doing here?”
Alicia turned at the shocked comment from the woman behind her. Entering the parlor were three ladies who should have been anywhere else but here.
&nb
sp; “That’s Lady Reardon!” Alicia’s neighbor continued. “And Lady Greenleigh—so that must be Lady Dryden!”
Well, at least Lady Dryden was a bit scandalous, unlike the first two unimpeachable social goddesses. Lady Dryden had buried her first husband only weeks before her second marriage—although Alicia thought it was silly to blame her when her elderly Lord Barrowby had been bedridden for years. She must be quite eager to live her life once more.
Apparently, no one else made much of it, for there Lady Dryden stood in the company of two of the highest of the high.
And those two were looking directly at Alicia.
She took a breath, for this had always been a common occurrence. Red hair did make it rather hard to disappear in a crowd. They would soon recall her identity, and then they would look away, intently pretending they had never been the slightest bit interested in a nonpersonage such as she.
Except they were still staring at her. A tremor of alarm went through Alicia. The social opinion of ladies like these could make her purpose here much more difficult, not to mention painful. Would they take after Lady Davenport, who was even now arrowing across the room as if the three newcomers were her nearest and dearest friends? For all Alicia knew, they might be.
Although somehow they didn’t look the type. Lady Reardon was a rounded brunette with a bold manner and bright blue eyes that glimmered with mischief. She appeared to be on the short side, but that might be simply in comparison to her companion, Lady Greenleigh, who towered over her two friends in voluptuous grandeur. Her hair was a dark blond that picked up the light from the windows in sleek shine. She surveyed the room with a half-smile already in place, as if she were sure to find something amusing.
Both ladies were lovely in their way, but the scandalous Lady Dryden was beautiful in every way. Alicia found herself dismayingly fascinated by the woman’s perfection. Then she saw that a few strands of unruly blond curls had escaped Lady Dryden’s severe hairstyle. Knowing that such a woman still had difficulty with her hair made her more human. Alicia found herself smiling at Lady Dryden in a friendly way.
Lady Dryden’s gaze caught on hers and Alicia nearly took a step back from the sharp inquiry there. This was no vague and insipid beauty!
Lady Davenport descended upon the trio at last. Now Alicia wished she were close enough to hear the exchange of greetings, for she didn’t think those three women were the sort to suffer fools lightly.
Yet even as they greeted Lady Davenport with no visible sign of enjoyment, their gazes still continued to flick back to Alicia. She had the uncanny impression that they were here to see her.
Which was ridiculous and more than a little alarming. She wasn’t sure she wanted to come to such attention.
Then again, that was why she was here, wasn’t it? To do battle with Society? Well, Society—true Society, not just these decadent hangers-on—had arrived on the field.
Right. Headfirst then. Alicia took a deep breath, pasted on an irreverent smile, and sailed closer to the door.
Lady Davenport shot her a look full of venom as she approached.
“Oh, yes. Here we have Lady Alicia herself.” Lady Davenport sneered a barely legitimate smile at Alicia. “We were just speaking of you.”
Alicia smiled widely. “I’ll wager you were.” She turned to Lady Dryden. “Hello.”
By not waiting to be introduced, Alicia had crossed that shady boundary of her social limbo. She was as highborn as any of these ladies—or nearly so—and as such would normally have been their equal.
Or they could legitimately cut her, for she was in her way worse than the lowest street whore, who could be but pitied for her predicament.
The tall Lady Greenleigh bent to whisper in the smaller Lady Reardon’s ear. “She’s quite pretty.”
Lady Reardon sedately stepped upon her friend’s foot. “She can hear you,” she said, her voice normal.
Lady Greenleigh sighed and straightened. “I never could whisper properly.”
Lady Dryden, who was obviously in charge, sent a repressive glare over her shoulder at her friends. “You’ll have to excuse them, Lady Alicia,” she said coolly. Ignoring Lady Davenport’s indignant sniff—which immediately endeared the beauty further to Alicia—she held out her hand. “I am Julia.”
The other two ladies surged forward. They flanked the exquisite Lady Dryden like a pair of Valkyrie guards.
Alicia eyed the diminutive Lady Reardon. Perhaps a Valkyrie and a half.
“I am Willa,” the curvaceous brunette declared.
“Call me Olivia,” the taller woman offered.
Lady Davenport, apparently offended that she had not received a similar welcome, drew herself up. “I fear I’m needed elsewhere.” With a sharp, angry dip of a curtsy, she flounced off.
“Oh, God, I thought she’d never leave,” Olivia said, inviting Alicia to join her in a smile.
Alicia was not entirely gullible. She folded her arms and gazed at them warily. “That’s very nice, I’m sure, but why do I have the distinct feeling that you came in here looking for me?”
Lady Dryden sighed. “You two are about as subtle as Huns,” she said to her companions.
“Subtlety is a blooming waste of time sometimes, Julia, and you know it.” Lady Willa smiled at Alicia with satisfaction. “Something I think Lady Alicia understands very well.”
“She’s really very pretty,” Olivia insisted. “Do you think Wyndham notices?”
“Wyndham isn’t blind,” Alicia said wryly. “Whether or not he wishes to do more than look is still in doubt.”
Olivia’s eyes lighted. “Oh, good. Tell us everything.”
“Yes,” Julia said, although her tone implied she wanted more than good gossip. “Come to my room in ten minutes. Left at the top of the stairs, seventh door on the right. Do try not to make a fanfare, if you please.” She turned to the other two. “Let us make our escape before Davenport comes back. That woman gives me hives.” She cast a look back at Alicia. “Do not keep us waiting, Lady Alicia.”
The three beauties strode from the room, taking with them the greater portion of class and elegance present. Alicia was torn between running after them and fleeing them for her life. Willa and Olivia seemed kind, even friendly, but Julia—
Alicia shivered. Lady Dryden reminded her of someone. She couldn’t think who, but it was someone else with that sharp watchfulness and that assessing gaze that made one constantly wonder if there was a crumb on one’s chin.
Someone like . . .
Wyndham.
She blinked. Well, now. That was an arresting thought. Now what could Lady Dryden and Lord Wyndham have in common?
She glanced at the standing clock in the corner of the parlor. She still had eight minutes.
Wyndham wasn’t in their bedchamber, although Herbert was present, tending to his lordship’s wardrobe.
“Lord Wyndham is playing billiards, I believe, my lady,” he told her when asked.
The door opened and Garret strolled in with yesterday’s gown over his arm. “Oh, hullo, love!” he caroled to Alicia.
Herbert went into paroxysms—which for Herbert meant quivering and twitching his sideburns—at Garrett’s impertinence. Garrett grinned at Alicia.
“Sorry, milady, but I cannot help myself. He’s such a monstrous stick about everything. Do you know he waits until the minute hand is precisely on the hour before he’ll pick up his breakfast fork?”
Herbert twitched with more ferocity. Alicia gazed at him worriedly. “Garrett, I think he might be having an attack of some kind.”
Garrett threw a pillow at Herbert. “You there! Calm down. You’re alarming her ladyship.”
Herbert stiffened, his wild gaze traveling between Garrett and Alicia at great speed. “If—if you’ll excuse me, my lady—” He left the room in strangled haste, leaving Wyndham’s shirt on the bed.
Garrett took it and held it up to himself. “Would you look at these shoulders, lover? I’m telling you, your man is a god among
men!”
“He isn’t,” Alicia denied with a sigh.
Garrett slid her a knowing look. “Isn’t a god or isn’t your man?”
Alicia shook her head. “Not now, darling. I need your help. I need to know everything you can find out about Lady Dryden, Lady Reardon, and Lady Greenleigh. They just cornered me downstairs and they are far too interested for my comfort.”
Garret blinked and dropped the shirt on the bed. “The Sirens? What are they doing here?”
Remembering the cool glint in Lady Dryden’s gaze, Alicia shook her head at the nickname. “More the Fates than the Sirens, I’d think. Julia’s on the scary side, to be truthful.”
Garrett narrowed his eyes. “The Sirens cornered you, eh?”
Alicia pressed fingers to her aching temples. She had already had a rather trying day, and now had only four minutes left. “I’ve been summoned to Dryden’s room. Quickly, tell me anything you know.”
Garrett folded his arms, thinking. “Lady Reardon married Reardon while he was still in disgrace. They called her his ‘broomstick’ bride, for he compromised her while passing through the village where she lived. I heard she stood up for him when everyone told her wedding him was a mistake. Then of course, the whole truth came out about his scandal and he was a hero and she was his heroine.”
“That’s a nice tale.”
Garrett was merely warming up. “Lady Greenleigh got her man by falling into the Thames and letting him rescue her. There was a spot of trouble after the wedding, something about the Prince Regent taking her as his mistress and Greenleigh kidnapping her back, right out from under his highness’s nose. I heard there was a duel or some such, and she was accidentally shot.”
“Goodness. Another epic story.”
Garrett grinned. “These are only the high moments, you understand. Then there’s Lady Dryden. She was Lord Barrowby’s widow for less than a month before she wed Dryden. First, I heard she disappeared for a bit, was kidnapped or fled or some such, and nearly died before she was found. Some say she killed a man.”
Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 04] Page 15
