by Louise Allen
‘Perhaps they are like unicorns and will lie down at the command of a virgin.’ He watched her from beneath heavy lids, like a big cat contemplating a dead antelope and wondering if it could be bothered to get up and eat it. ‘Or no,’ he added in a low voice that would not reach beyond their little space, ‘that will not work, will it? A mermaid, do you think?’
Laura knew the symbolism as well as he did. ‘The female embodiment of lust? The creature that lures men to their doom?’ Why did he dislike her so? What was it about her relationship with Piers that seemed to anger him beyond reason? She found her hands were shaking and clenched them in her lap to still them. ‘Sending you to your doom seems very tempting, Lord Wykeham.’
‘I would like to see you try.’ He looked completely relaxed, that faint, infuriating smile still curving his lips. Those lips… No one glancing in their direction would guess he was mortally insulting her.
‘Then I would be delighted to oblige you, my lord.’ Laura got to her feet, inclined her head and swept over to join the single ladies where she could retrieve the rags of her temper unobserved amongst their self-absorbed gossip.
Avery Falconer was going to pay for his insults. Just as soon as she worked out how to punish him.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day was sunny and Lady Birtwell swept her guests outdoors. ‘The children need to run off their high spirits, the girls can renew the roses in their cheeks and the gentlemen may impress the ladies with their prowess at the archery butts and on the lake.’
There were canvas awnings set up in sheltered corners, with rugs, comfortable seats and footstools for the older guests and they were soon joined by the mothers who were glad to hand over their offspring to the small army of nursemaids on duty.
However, it seemed that the unmarried ladies had decided that a demonstration of their maternal suitability might be a good tactic, given that the bachelors were all assembled outside, as well. The babies were soon removed from the nurses to be cooed over and the little girls’ dolls were admired. The small boys, far less appealing with their grubby knees and tendency to fight, received no female attention and were marshalled into an impromptu game of cricket by some of the fathers.
Laura felt a strong inclination to go and fire arrows into one of the straw targets, imagining the bull’s eye painted on Avery’s chest, but the opportunity to play with Alice was too tempting and, besides, she wanted to keep an eye on how the young ladies interacted with her.
Lady Amelia had apparently overcome her scruples at being seen with a love child. Laura put that down to her success with Avery the evening before when she had held his attention for at least ten minutes before dinner and had coaxed several smiles from him. Now Amelia was posed prettily on a rug, her pale pink skirts spread about her, a Villager straw hat perched on her curls to keep the sun from her face as she helped Alice dress her doll. She kept sending sideways glances towards the lower part of the lawn where Avery, coat and hat discarded, was fielding cricket balls.
Laura strolled across and sat down next to Amelia and Alice, her own forget-me-not-blue skirts overlapping the pink muslin. Amelia gave her own gown an irritable twitch to display it better.
‘Good morning, Miss Alice.’
‘Good morning, Au…Lady Laura. Lady Amelia thinks Clara needs a new sash.’
‘I think so, too. That one is sadly frayed. You must ask your papa for a new ribbon.’ Laura turned to watch the cricketers. ‘He is working very hard.’ Avery sprinted for a high ball, jumped, caught it in one outstretched hand and sent it back, fast and true, to hit the stumps.
‘Oh, well caught, my lord!’ Amelia applauded and Avery turned and sketched an ironic bow before walking back closer to the players.
‘I wish I could play cricket.’ Alice put down her doll and watched, her lower lip sticking out in a pout.
‘Girls do not play cricket,’ Amelia reproved. ‘It is not ladylike.’
‘We could play rounders if we can find enough players,’ Laura suggested, knowing that Alice’s natural energy would not last for many more minutes of sitting on the rug being good. ‘I saw a bat and a soft ball with the cricket things.’ She counted heads. ‘Who would like to play rounders?’ she called and found herself with five girls and four other ladies. Lady Amelia remained alone on the rug, looking decidedly put out.
They moved to the other end of the lawn from the cricketers, improvised four bases with branches from the shrubbery and began to play.
*
After ten minutes Laura had discarded her hat, rolled up her sleeves and was poised with the bat raised as Miss Gladman threw the ball to her. She had watched her bowling and was sure this ball would be as feebly delivered as all the previous ones. It was. Laura hit it perfectly, sending it flying away over Alice’s head and towards the cricketers.
Alice ran for it, one stocking falling down, hair streaming behind her. Laura ran, too, straight for first base. Alice reached the ball and came running back, directly towards second base, which was closest to her.
‘Don’t run!’ Lady Catherine at second base squeaked.
‘Run!’ Laura ordered, picked up her skirts to her knees and sprinted. It was a dead heat. Laura hurtled into the branch just as Alice did. They both went flying.
Alice landed on her bottom, ball still clutched to her chest, hiccupping with giggles. ‘You’re out, you’re out!’
Laura, twisted, threw herself to one side to avoid the child and landed in an awkward, jarring, heap. ‘Alice, are you all right?’
She nodded enthusiastically and bounced to her feet. ‘That was such fun!’
Bless her, she doesn’t know enough other children to play games like this, Laura thought as she tugged her tumbled skirts down and began to get up. ‘Ouch!’ Her right ankle gave way under her and she sat back down with a thump.
‘Lady Laura!’ Alice dropped the ball and crouched down beside her. ‘Have you hurt your poorly ankle?’
‘Shh!’ Laura warned. ‘Yes, I must have twisted it.’
‘I will get Papa and he can carry you again.’ Before she could stop her, Alice ran off towards the cricketers. ‘Papa! Papa!’
And this time it really is twisted, Laura thought grimly as the other players, realising at last that something was wrong, gathered round her. ‘No, no, I will be all right, just a sprain, I think. Oh, thank you, Miss Gladman, I would be glad of a hand to rise.’
‘Stay exactly where you are, Lady Laura.’ Avery stood over her, coat and neckcloth discarded, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His shadow blocked out the sunlight as she looked up at him. ‘I will carry you inside.’
*
Time seemed to slip back as he bent and slid one arm beneath her bent knees, the other behind her back, and lifted. The awareness of her body, of her femininity, was heightened by the thin barrier of his shirt, by the sensations of fine fabrics over the bare skin of his forearms. They were both hot from exercise and the scents of two warm bodies mingled in his nostrils. It would be like this if we were making love.
Lady Amelia hurried up. ‘Your skirts, Lady Laura! Here, allow me.’ She smoothed them about Laura’s ankles with a show of concern that effectively drew the attention of anyone who hadn’t noticed to the display of Laura’s legs to the knee. Somehow the little tricks did not seem so amusing when they were directed at Laura. Perhaps Lady Amelia really did want him and was jealous. He could understand jealousy…
‘Now, don’t fret, Miss Alice,’ Lady Amelia, said. ‘You take my hand and we will go in with Lady Laura and Papa. You are so active, Lady Laura, I do so admire your energy, but you have quite spoiled that pretty dress. How fortunate it seems to be an old one.’
She really was a little cat, Avery thought, unable to suppress a rumble of laughter, deep in his chest. Laura must have heard it, or perhaps felt it, for she moved in his arms and he caught her to him more securely with a murmur of reassurance before raising his voice. ‘So kind of you to assist, Lady Amelia. Perhaps you and Alice would w
alk on ahead a little to alert the staff?’
‘Of course, Lord Wykeham. Come along, Miss Alice.’
Laura held her head as upright as possible, stiff and unyielding. She was not going to allow herself to relax against his chest. Perversely Avery tightened his grip and slowed his pace. ‘Let go, Laura. I have you.’
It was a mistake. She gave a little gasp that wrenched at something inside him, provoked a wave of helpless tenderness, just as he felt when Alice fell and hurt herself. And yet it was nothing like that feeling. He did not want to offer hugs and a sweetmeat and a bandage with bunny ears. He wanted to lay Laura down on a bed and pour out his doubts and fears and confusion until he understood them himself. He wanted to make it all right for all three of them. He wanted Alice safe and happy. He wanted to keep her and her innocent, unconditional love. He wanted this woman who could destroy all that with one word.
Laura was watching Lady Amelia as she moved ahead of them, her pretty skirts swishing on the grass, her parasol tilted elegantly and one of Alice’s hands was linked with hers. The perfect picture of modish motherhood, Avery thought.
‘Cat,’ Laura muttered, echoing his thoughts of a minute before.
‘Jealous?’ Avery murmured in her ear, the merest brush of her skin on his lips sending goosebumps down his spine.
‘Of her gown? Certainly not. I do not begrudge her all the help her dressmaker can give her. I have plenty of new gowns, I just do not choose to flaunt them all the time,’ she said tartly as he shifted his grip to negotiate the steps to the lower terrace from the lawn.
‘Of my attentions to her, then?’ What the blazes was he doing, putting his thoughts into words?
‘Certainly not. You are implying that you and I have a relationship that might be threatened by her.’
But we do have a relationship, of sorts. We have a child in common. We have those memories of Piers. We have our own different guilt and our own needs. We have desire. Surely I am not the only one that feels that even after what has happened between us? Don’t be a fool, Avery told himself harshly. He was keeping what she wanted from her—the thing most precious to him was threatened by her very existence.
‘I am sure Lady Amelia will make some lucky man an excellent wife,’ Laura said. Her voice was tight with an emotion he could not read. He could not tell whether she was flustered by being in his arms, furious with Amelia or simply in pain. ‘However, you should be aware that she disapproves strongly of Alice.’
‘Nonsense. Look at them now,’ Avery said. Jealousy, that is all it is.
‘You did not hear her in the hallway when I arrived, telling the other ladies that it was shocking to bring a bastard to a respectable house party.’
‘That is low, even for you, Laura, to make up such a thing.’ Yes, he had been correct. She was jealous at the thought that Lady Amelia might be Alice’s stepmother, that the child might grow to love her.
‘How dare you! I am not a liar—’
‘Of course not,’ he said. ‘Mrs Jordan.’
Laura ignored the jibe. ‘She is making up to Alice because she has set her sights on you.’
‘On the contrary, I imagine she cannot be unaware of my interest and is very sensibly finding out how she gets on with my daughter.’ It was time to stop this agonising and self-doubt. He was right to keep Laura from Alice. His plan to marry, to give the child a new mother, was the right one.
Avery strode across the upper terrace. At any moment they would be at the side door into the house and he could put Laura down, get her out of his arms.
‘You have heard how she makes snide remarks—’
‘I have heard no more than the sniping that seems commonplace between young ladies in the Marriage Mart. And amongst married ladies, come to that.’
‘You have made up your mind that she is perfection, in other words!’
‘By no means, if by that you mean I intend to fix my interest upon her. Frankly, my dear, your antagonism towards her makes me incline towards Lady Amelia. I doubt I would wish to marry someone who had your approval.’
‘And why, exactly, is that?’ she demanded, twisting in his arms in an attempt to face him.
‘Because you are inconstant, flighty, deceitful—’ They were at the door. Avery bit off the words, smiled. ‘Ah, thank you, Lady Amelia. Lady Laura’s maid is just the person we want. And two footmen with a chair. Excellent.’
‘You sanctimonious libertine,’ Laura hissed and pushed against his chest as he turned to place her in the chair. It was so unexpected, he was so off balance that his grip slipped and she slid free. Avery reached for her, his wrist cracking down on the carved wooden arm with a sickening thud.
Laura landed on her feet, clutching at him. She gave a gasp of pain as her injured foot took her weight and then she was slipping down. This time he caught her, held her tight despite the pain in his wrist.
‘I never faint…’ she whispered, and passed out.
*
‘That’s a new pair of half-boots ruined. And a good pair of stockings without a single darn in them covered in grass stains and as for this gown, I don’t know I’ll ever get it clean.’
That was Mab. Laura turned her head on the pillow and squinted against the light. She was lying on the bed with her foot propped up and something cold and wet draped over her ankle. She wriggled her toes experimentally. ‘Ow!’
‘You’re awake then.’ Mab came over and peered down at her. ‘What a pickle. His lordship’s none too pleased, believe me.’
‘And what has it got to do with him, pray?’ Laura reached behind her for more pillows so she could sit up.
‘Miss Alice was frightened and was in floods, saying it was all her fault that you hurt yourself, so he had to cope with that until Miss Blackstock arrived. Then he banged his hand on the arm of the chair, trying to catch you, and it must have hurt like the devil, but being a man, he can’t or won’t admit it. And on top of that he’s surrounded by silly chits all of a-fluster because he was striding about carrying you, like some fool in a poem, and they were ogling his arms and his chest and cooing about how strong and noble he is… Well, you can imagine, I’m sure.’
‘Only too well.’
‘Like I always said, he’s a fine figure of a man. But with his coat off I can see what they were carrying on about. Buttocks you could bend a sewing needle on, I’ll be bound.’
‘Mab!’ But a snort of laughter escaped her.
‘That’s better. No use you looking like a dying duck in a thunderstorm, that ankle’s bad enough without you getting yourself in a pother about a man.’ She scooped up the discarded clothing. ‘We had to cut that half-boot off. I’ll take these downstairs and have a word with the laundry maids, see what we can do with the grass stains. I’ll have some tea sent up, shall I, my lady?’
Alone, Laura lay back with a sigh. Now she was doomed to be an immobile audience as Lady Amelia wormed her way into Avery’s favour. She did not trust her one inch over Alice, for surely no one went from spluttering with disgust over the presence of a love child to finding themselves charmed out of their prejudice in a matter of hours.
A tap on the door heralded a maid with a tea tray and, hard on her heels before Laura could think of the words to deny her, Lady Amelia.
‘I thought I would come and keep you company as your woman is struggling to salvage your wardrobe,’ she said with a sweet smile. ‘Put the tray there.’ She nodded to a side table and sat beside it, regarding Laura across the chinaware with perfect composure.
‘How kind.’
‘Not at all? Milk and sugar?’
‘Lemon, thank you.’ At least it would give an excuse for a sour face.
Amelia stood to place the cup on the bedside table, inconveniently, and no doubt deliberately, at the exact angle that ensured Laura must twist inelegantly to pick it up. ‘Miss Alice is quite unharmed by the incident,’ she remarked as she resumed her seat, sweeping her pretty skirts around her with some emphasis.
‘I had no r
eason to suspect otherwise. She seems a sensible child who would say something if she was hurt.’ Laura managed to pick up her tea without slopping any in the saucer and took a sip. ‘You seem very concerned about a child who you referred to as a bastard and whose presence you deplored only yesterday.’
‘Naturally, a lady is concerned for the well-being of any creature.’
‘Especially if she is intent on ensnaring the creature’s father?’ There, at least we both know where we stand now. ‘Might I trouble you to pass me a biscuit?’
Amelia stood again, placed the entire plate on the bedspread next to Laura and returned to her place. ‘Do have them all. Ensnare? I have no need to aggressively hunt after a gentleman. They come to me and seek my approval.’ She gave her skirts another twitch. ‘After all, in addition to breeding, connections and style, I have an impeccable reputation.’
‘Which I do not. That is understood. But this is not about me, Lady Amelia.’
‘I could not agree more. You may throw yourself at Lord Wykeham, but a gentleman of his nature would have only one use for a woman demonstrating that kind of behaviour.’
‘Are you suggesting that Lord Wykeham would set up a mistress?’ Laura ate a biscuit without tasting it.
‘They all do,’ Amelia said with a shrug. ‘A lady ignores that kind of behaviour. And the women involved,’ she added with a faint smile. ‘The child is evidence of his proclivities.’
‘And yet you would accept his offer if he makes one?’
‘Certainly he will make one. And I may well accept it. After all, I doubt the other gentlemen are any different.’
‘And Alice?’ The teacup rattled in the saucer. Laura set it down awkwardly on the bedside table. ‘It is rather difficult to ignore a child.’
‘Once I am in control of the household the child’s place will be clearly established. As soon as I give Wykeham a legitimate heir then he will lose interest in her, I will make certain of that. A separate establishment would be necessary. Naturally, one would not want her mixing with one’s own children.’
