“A small pageant! Your father will be delighted, and I’m sure you’ll look adorable. Youcan sing, can’t you?”
Alyssa’s mouth dropped open; she was dumb-founded by the looming disaster. “Somewhat, but not—”
“Perfect!” Violet was the epitome of calm. “Your father won’t expect much and I have a wonderful idea for our costumes. It will make such a lovely impression during our song. I’ll play the piano and it will be a bit of a duet.”
“Costumes?”
“Come now! You are officially the hostess and are expected to lead the evening’s festivities.”
“Yes, but for simple games, or to make sure the mulled wine doesn’t run low. I’m not sure I—”
Violet raised an eyebrow, her look one of pure challenge. “Don’t tell me you’re shy.”
“Shy isn’t the word I would have chosen. I’m not…a performer.” It was a vast understatement, but Alyssa wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
“But I’ll be performing, too. It’s not as if I’ve thrown you to the wolves to face them alone, cousin.”
That’s what it feels like.“Of course you’re not. You just caught me by surprise.”
Violet giggled. “It will be fun!”
“Fun,” Alyssa echoed tonelessly. The party was two nights away. Until that moment, she’d been only mildly nervous about the gathering. She’d been looking forward to a lively evening of Yuletide festivities. But now, she was wondering if a head cold might be her only escape.
Violet sighed dramatically. “I’d meant to tell you my idea before. Mrs. Wolfe’s sudden appearance reminded me of it. Besides, I didn’t want her to know we were talking about marriage. She might have turned match-maker! After all, doesn’t she have a nephew or two lurking in the Cotswolds?”
“Just one,” Alyssa said, shuddering at the thought.
“Odds are he resembles a pug!” Violet whispered conspiratorially and they both laughed.
Alyssa stood. “Come, I should see what my father wanted.”
“Rescue from Mrs. Wolfe, no doubt!” Violet stood gracefully to follow her.
“Violet, please! They are old friends and nothing more. She is hardly…pursuing him.”
“I meant nothing by it. My mother has always contended that he should have remarried long ago. It’s a mystery why he hasn’t.”
“No mystery.” Alyssa turned back to her cousin. “My parents loved each other very much. Once you’ve known that kind of love, you can hardly expect to marry for anything less.”
“Anything less?” Violet was openly skeptical. “I wouldn’t have guessed you were such a romantic.”
“I’m not a romantic!”
“So you’d consider it wrong to marry for anything less than a great love?”
Alyssa crossed her arms defensively. “We were speaking of my father.”
“And now let us speak of you.”
How to get out of the tangle?“The topic is hardly interesting. I’m not foolish enough to expect any man to melt into a puddle when I enter a room.”
“What do you expect?”
The question was so simple, but it shook her a bit. Mrs. Harris had made it very clear how treacherous the social landscape could be and that love was more often the guise of cruel fortune hunters than of warm-hearted heroes. But she’d seen the love of her parents and secretly hoped for a miracle of her own. It had only been in the last year or two that she’d decided that between the threat of fortune hunters and loveless marriages, she would prefer to just keep house for her father and turn into a happily eccentric spinster. Mrs. Harris had the right of it. Better to live independently than forfeit everything for the wrong man.
“I expect, through no fault of my own, to be a delightful disaster this summer. I’m sure I’ll meet a lot of interesting people and then when it’s all over, I think I will have an amusing journal to mull over for some time.”
“Umm…” Violet appeared to have been struck speechless.
Emboldened, Alyssa went on. “As for the love of my life, trust me, Violet, I have no illusions. He won’t discover me unless he trips over me, and even then, I’m sure he’ll simply enjoy telling his friends about a funny young woman he once bumped into.”
“Unless he’s sworn to secrecy,” Leland’s voice came from behind her and Alyssa froze.
“Mr. Yates!” Alyssa whirled around to face him, “I thought you were riding.”
“The weather drove me in.” He didn’t look pleased.
Violet poked her in the back and Alyssa knew the moment was upon her. “Allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Violet Horner. She just arrived yesterday in the late afternoon.”
Violet executed a perfect curtsy, her features flushing demurely to show off her lovely coloring, and Alyssa’s stomach churned with dread. They would make a beautiful pair, her cousin’s beauty the foil against his darker coloring. “Mr. Yates.”
“Miss Horner.” He managed a stiff bow, then stood back. “I hope your journey was tolerable.”
“I was ahead of the weather and very lucky, sir.”
“Yes, well…if you’ll excuse me. I have some additional business to attend to before dinner.” He bowed again and then moved past them down the hallway.
It was only when the echo of his steps had faded that Violet found her voice. “Oh, my!”
“My thoughts exactly,” Alyssa whispered too quietly for Violet to hear.
“Why you wicked creature! I was expecting some teetering old thing!”
Alyssa shrugged. “Isn’t he?”
Violet punched her playfully in the shoulder, “You know very well he isn’t!”
“I suppose,” she conceded, gathering her skirts to continue her way to her father’s study.
“So what do you know of him?” Violet caught up quickly, taking her elbow.
Another good question.“Just what I told you before. He is a business associate of my father’s. I believe they met at his club.” At Violet’s unsatisfied expression, she cast about for anything neutral to add. “And he’s…very industrious and hard-working.”
“Is he unmarried? Is he always that serious? Is he rich? And what was that jest about secrecy?”
Alyssa stopped, freeing herself from her cousin’s grasp. “Unmarried; yes; I’m sure I don’t know and as to his fortune, I never thought to ask. Violet, please!”
“I apologize,” her cousin said, appearing a bit distracted. “It wouldn’t have been proper for you to inquire.”
Alyssa could see the workings of her friend’s mind. As she’d dreaded, Mr. Yates had landed squarely into her schemes. If Violet deemed him a wealthy enough target, he’d be in love with her by Christmas morning. Since childhood, she’d learned that anything Violet desired was almost always hers for the taking. “I’m sure Mrs. Wolfe has the answers you seek. Matchmaking or not, she’s unlikely to let a bachelor escape inquiry. She’ll be having tea in the drawing room with Mrs. Cunningham, and I know they’d love the diversion. I’ll join you there after I see my father, all right?”
“Yes, please!” Violet kissed her on the cheek and left her in a happy rush to learn more about the handsome Mr. Yates.
Her father smiled as she entered, and Alyssa basked in the security and welcome of his presence. “Am I disturbing your work, Papa?”
“If you are, I am happy for it. A man can turn gray over columns and figures, and where is the glory in that?” He abandoned his desk and came round to take her hands.
Alyssa pretended to scrutinize his hair and face. “I see no gray.” The lie was lovingly told and earned the laughter she’d expected.
“You have a loving daughter’s gift for not seeing what the world sees, and I won’t scold you for it.” He pulled her toward the cushioned bench near the room’s fireplace, where they settled comfortably. “Now, tell me. Are you enjoying your holiday and your cousin’s visit?”
“Yes, of course!”
His scrutiny was much more honest. “Alyssa, your eyes betray you, my dear.”
“It’s not the holiday. I’m thrilled to be home and to spend time with you. I’m sure it’s just…perhaps it’s nerves over my debut.”
He shook his head. “There’s no cause for concern, then. What’s a quick curtsy at St. James and a few minutes with some crumbling dowagers? The court’s a formality and nothing more for a beautiful girl like you.”
“A formality I would prefer to miss.”
“Every girl dreams of the chance. Besides, how will all those handsome lords and dashing earls discover you if not for a royal presentation and a lovely social season?”
Alyssa reached for his hand. “Father, please. I know you’ve done so much to give me this debut. But I’ve been unofficially out for a while—as your hostess and companion.” She smiled. “You’re very easy to keep house for.”
He shook his head. “Alyssa, you’re too young and beautiful to spend the best years of your life looking after your dusty father.”
“Are you so eager to see me gone?”
“Hardly!” He laughed. “And don’t think I’ll allow the first man who asks to whisk you away! I have high hopes for you, dearest.”
Alyssa sighed, but did her best to appear cheered at her father’s pronouncement. There was no sense in belaboring the issue. “Mrs. Wolfe said you wanted to see me?”
“Oh…yes! It wasn’t anything pressing really. It’s just that Mrs. Wolfe has offered to accompany us to London to assist in outfitting you for your launch and I thought since Mrs. Hale might not be in a position to continue as your chaperone, this might present the perfect solution.”
“Oh!”
“You seem surprised. But you’ve known dear Mrs. Wolfe for some time, and she assures me that such familiarity can be a great comfort. Especially as you’ve admitted to suffering some nerves—”
“No! I mean, yes, of course, I did say that I was a little…nervous. But Mrs. Hale hasn’t indicated that she won’t be back before…I mean, I already have a chaperone, Father.”
“But her sister is ill enough to keep her at her side, and I’m sure she would be relieved to be released from her responsibilities here. We cannot take her from her family at such a time.”
His argument was sincere and Alyssa felt heartless to contest the point. Mrs. Hale was a good friend but she could hardly insist that her debut was more important than an ailing sister. However, the thought of Mrs. Wolfe hovering over her for her first Season was unacceptable and a guarantee of incidents beyond reckoning!
Before she could compose a diplomatic reply, her father went on. “I know Mrs. Wolfe may seem a bit effusive, but I truly believe she has your best interests at heart.”
I’d rather have Lady Peabody.
“I’m sure she does.”
He beamed at her, as if she’d declared an end to taxation. “It will be a Season to remember, I promise you!”
He drew her into an embrace and Alyssa could only smile over his shoulder.
Oh, Father, I can make the same promise.
Five
The pugs created quite a stir the following day. The ringleader, Binkley, disappeared from his doting owner’s rooms and the search for him was nothing less than a catastrophe in motion. In despair at the loss of her favorite dearling, Mrs. Wolfe suffered an attack of the vapors and took to her bed, while guests and staff were charged with his recovery and safe return. Alyssa quickly volunteered to look outside. She was sure that Violet would latch onto Mr. Yates, and she was in no mood to watch their romance unfold.
Now she had a wonderful excuse to escape the house. Or at least to take a brisk walk to clear her head of dreary fancies about Violet’s perfect face being kissed by Mr. Yates or his lean strong hands unpinning Violet’s brunette curls.
“Binkley!” she called out, but not with any urgency.I’d have run away too, little man. Poor Binkums might have had his fill of little sweaters and his mistress’s endless attentions. Then again, he might just be planning another ambush. The image of him lurking in the hedgerows like a black-masked highwayman made her laugh.
“Where are you, Binkley? I’m wearing my best boots! Yummy footwear and tender ankles!” She pulled her muffler a little tighter, and kept up her pace. The snow had receded to small drifts under the trees, leaving the lanes muddy and slick. Alyssa tried to concentrate on her path and avoid dwelling on how many times Violet had innocently managed to touch Mr. Yates during lunch. At least Alyssa tried until a blur of yipping black and tan burst from the undergrowth. She gave a startled cry and the chase was on. Alyssa tried to catch him before he disappeared, but Binkley was enjoying himself far too much to allow for a quick end to the game.
It was like trying to catch a greased pig. Down the lane and around trees they ran until she was dizzy and short of breath. Still, she wasn’t going to let her nemesis win, so she tried a new tactic by running around the opposite way to catch the little bounder before he realized she wasn’t still on his heels.
The strategy was flawless, except for her narrow concentration on her quarry and not the ground beneath her. The puddle was deep and icy cold, and before she could alter course to minimize the damage, she lost her footing on the slick ground and landed on her rump smack in the middle of the mess. A squeak of surprise and dismay gave way to laughter, as she admitted to the disgraceful finish of her short career as dogcatcher.
“And what exactly is so amusing?”
Alyssa instantly quieted in astonishment, and gained her feet in embarrassment. “Mr. Yates!”
My God, the man has a gift for seeing me at my worst, doesn’t he?
“Are you all right, or is the laughter perhaps a first sign of illness?”
She reached up to straighten her muffler and soggy coat, and stepped out of the mire. “I’m fine! I was picturing the headmistress of my school and wondering what she would say about ladies and mud puddles.”
“She would have something to say, I take it?” He was impossibly handsome and undisturbed by her mishap.
“Undoubtedly something about ladies steering clear of mud puddles in the first place.”
“Not something about waiting for men to lay their coats down before attempting to cross one?”
“Oh, no!” she corrected him playfully. “Mrs. Harris would never advise such a missish display. It isn’t in keeping with the curriculum of her School for Young Ladies.”
“Exactly what kind of lessons are you receiving at this school?”
She shrugged and gave him a mischievous smile. “The usual lessons, I’m sure.”
He laughed. “I doubt that anything about your life qualifies as ‘usual,’ Miss Martin.”
Alyssa glanced down at her muddy coat and skirts before perching with a resounding squish on a nearby stone outcropping. “As a confirmed bachelor, wouldn’t the life of young ladies fall outside your area of expertise?”
Leland watched her and knew she was unaware of the muddy smudge on her nose—and of the fetching picture she made. He couldn’t think of a woman he had ever met who wouldn’t have been a screeching harpy at this moment. Instead, Alyssa was a cheerful mess.
“True enough. From a distance, I suppose I’ve made some assumptions.”
“And what did you assume?”
“You might take offense as a representative of your gender.” He was stalling, enjoying the conversation more than he wanted to acknowledge. After their ride yesterday during which he’d uncharacteristically let his desires overrule his good sense, he was relieved to find her once again relaxed in his company.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to take the risk. How can I assure you of my ‘usual’ life if I don’t know what you consider to be ‘usual’ for a young lady?”
“Very well,” he said, leaning against a tree. “I’d always heard that young ladies spend more time at their dressing tables than anywhere else. That their interests and topics of conversation were limited to fashion, baubles and gossip. I imagined they embroidered and painted watercolors all day.”
Her mirth was
obvious, as she clapped her hands. “Helpless and hopeless!”
“And so I take it that young ladies are not?” he deliberately baited her.
“Well,I am not, though I suppose my tumble into the puddle may not bode well for my defense. Or at least I don’t aspire to be helpless.”
“And other young ladies do?”
“They might because they believe that that is exactly what men desire,” she conceded.
“It is our fault, then?”
“Not that all men have the same opinions, but not all young ladies are in a dire state of constant fainting, chained to their vanities, Mr. Yates. If they feign weakness, I’m sure it’s only because it’s expected of them.”
“A prevarication you don’t attempt?”
She blushed, but didn’t drop her gaze. “I have no talent for it. I am well versed in most of the required skills thought necessary for a refined young lady, but I’m afraid I will never master myself entirely.” Her voice lowered theatrically. “I’m dreadful at watercolors and I have no patience for embroidery and I have never fainted in my life.”
He made a great show of mock horror and shock at her confession, striving not to laugh. “Youare unusual!”
She leapt from her perch to give him a playful punch on his shoulder. “Wretched man!”
He caught her hand and the warmth of laughter yielded to something much more powerful. Slowly Leland drew on each wet tip of her glove, peeling the leather from her wrist to soothe the sensitive skin. Frosted clouds of their breath intermingled and disappeared and Leland knew the thrill of a dangerous heat and desire.
Kiss her.
Release her.
The conflicting impulses kept him in place but only for a fleeting moment, her fingers imprisoned against the rhythm of his heart. She didn’t shy away from him; her face was tipped up toward his, waiting innocently for another taste of the maelstrom that kicked up whenever they were close to each other. But with every indulgence, he found it harder and harder to let her go. The title of gentleman was everything he’d measured himself and others by, but whenever she was near, it was the last thing he aspired to. When her father had requested that they ride together, it had been too easy to accept the gift of fate. He’d meant to apologize for his blackmail kiss in the library, but there was little he regretted. When she’d tangled herself in the thicket, regret had been even harder to summon.
The School for Heiresses Page 31
