Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress

by Jane Ashford

  Looking at her again, transfixed by her beauty, Cairnyllan suddenly remembered the things he had said to her on her arrival in town. If he had made a mistake…He clenched a fist. He had not. She had lain in his arms like a common trollop. But Trehune insisted…Unable to decide, and extremely uneasy in this unaccustomed position, Cairnyllan turned back toward the stage and tried to put the girl from his mind. Whatever the truth, they were nothing to each other. But even when the curtain rose once more, he could not banish her from his mind. And somewhere in its depths, unknown to him, a tiny flame of hope ignited.

  Six

  Alicia was able to accomplish at least one goal the very next night. She encountered Lord Robert Devere at an evening party, and at the first opportunity beckoned him to her side, happy to see that the MacClains were not present.

  “My dear Alicia,” he said, bending over her hand. “Breathtaking, as usual.”

  She brushed this aside. “I must talk to you about something.”

  He raised one dark brow and waited.

  “It is Marianne MacClain. You must end your flirtation with her.”

  His eyebrow rose another fraction. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me, Robert.” Alicia was impatient. “It was a mistake. You must end it.”

  “You were the one who began it, Alicia.”

  “I know that, but…”

  “But now you have changed your mind?”

  “Yes.” She met his hazel eyes squarely.

  “Why?”

  “That doesn’t matter. I just…”

  “It does. To me.” Seeing her look of surprise at his tone, he added, “What do you think I am, Alicia? Your lapdog? To be ordered one way, then the other, at your whim? I agreed to flirt a bit with the MacClain chit because the idea amused me, and I was curious as to why you requested it. Those things still hold. Moreover, I find Lady Marianne quite charming, not the least like a debutante.” He smiled slightly and repeated, “Not the least,” in a way that made Alicia very uneasy. “I intend to enjoy the connection as far as I am allowed, as you suggested.”

  “But Robert…”

  “You have become quite conceited, you know, my dear. Do you honestly believe that you need but command, and we will all fall in with your wishes? Your position is not so grand as that.”

  “Robert, I made a mistake. I admit that. I did not know certain things, which have made me think that.…”

  He chuckled. “So you have heard that she is Beau Alexander’s daughter? Interesting, is it not? I did not make the connection myself at first, but now that I have, it is plain that Lady Marianne has something of her father in her. What spirit the girl shows!” He smiled reminiscently again.

  “What do you plan?” asked Alicia uneasily.

  “Plan? You make this sound very sinister. I ‘plan’ to continue my customary habits—enjoying to the fullest whatever life may cast in my way. I believe Lady Marianne feels the same.”

  “She is only a child.”

  His eyebrow rose sardonically again. “Marianne MacClain? On the contrary, my dear Alicia, she is far more mature than you. Do you know why her brother finally consented to bring her to London?”

  “So that she might have her comeout,” faltered Alicia, seeing from his expression that there was more.

  Devere shook his head. “He refused her that until she was the cause of a duel between two young sprigs in their neighborhood. I believe the fathers requested that she be removed from their vicinity.”

  Alicia swallowed, a little shocked in spite of herself. “It needn’t have been her fault. Young men are often foolish.”

  He smiled. “You should become better acquainted with Lady Marianne. I wouldn’t be surprised if she not only engineered it, but watched from the sidelines, clapping her hands with glee.”

  “Robert!”

  “Oh, take a damper, Alicia. You are becoming a dead bore. What’s happened to you lately? I shall do precisely as I please about young Marianne, and that is the end of the matter.”

  She frowned up at him. She had always thought of Robert as a friend, but she realized now that they had never exchanged more than banter and gossip.

  “Come, you are making too much of this. Let us go and speak to our hostess. She will be wondering what I have said to make you look so.” He offered his arm, and Alicia hesitated, then took it, trying to summon a smile. It wouldn’t do to let everyone see her unhappiness, and add fuel to the speculation already circulating about her. But she felt far from easy, and very sorry indeed that she had been so foolish as to meddle in anyone’s life.

  The MacClains came in soon after this, and Alicia watched Devere go up to them and separate Marianne from her mother and brother without apparent effort. Lord Cairnyllan did look slightly grim, but he made no move. What must he feel, wondered Alicia, entering the houses, the very rooms, where his father had played out his disastrous career? No wonder he viewed London with hostile eyes, particularly now that the connection was becoming known. Alicia thought of her own background. Everyone knew and respected her father, and often spoke kindly of him to her. Her mother too, though less familiar, had been well liked. She had been welcomed into society and made much of from her earliest appearances. How different it would have been had her father been a Beau Alexander.

  Alicia had continued to gaze at Cairnyllan as she thought these things, her expression compassionate. Now, he happened to turn and meet her eyes. At first, he seemed surprised. Then, an intent expression crossed his face, and he returned her regard with equal interest. It was as if each were seeing the other for the first time. The look held. Cairnyllan wondered which Alicia Alston he was observing, the reckless girl he thought he had encountered, or the Ice Queen he had heard described.

  Then someone walked between them and each realized the obviousness of his pose. Cairnyllan bent to say something to his mother, and Alicia turned to join a group of her friends nearby. They did not think of coming together. What had passed between them made it impossible.

  The party took its usual course. Before ten, a group of young people had convinced the hostess to organize dancing. An older woman played for the couples who gathered at one end of the room. Other guests retreated to cards or gossip; some left for other engagements.

  Alicia resisted Roddy’s attempt to pull her into the third country dance. She was not feeling festive; she considered finding Lavinia and calling for their carriage, but her cousin was chatting very happily with two friends on a sofa. Rather than pull her away, Alicia slipped through the drawing room doorway and walked along the corridor to a window at the end. Here, it was quieter and cooler, and she could rest a moment before returning to the others.

  She had been there only a little while when she heard murmuring voices behind her. At first, she ignored them, thinking that some other guests had had the same idea as she, and not really wanting to talk. But then some furtive quality to the sound made her turn and look. She saw Lady Marianne MacClain and Lord Robert Devere, standing very close and whispering together. Marianne had a garment draped over her arm. At that moment, the girl nodded quickly and shook it out. It was a black domino, Alicia saw. Marianne put it on. Robert offered his arm.

  Alicia frowned. What were they up to? Surely they were not going to a masquerade so late. No private party would…and then she saw. Devere was going to take Marianne to a public masquerade, and without her chaperone; there was no other explanation for their secretive behavior. Probably they meant to go to the Pantheon itself. How could Marianne be so wildly imprudent? And how did she expect to avoid a scandal? Without considering what she meant to do, Alicia stepped forward. “Good evening.”

  Devere and the girl whirled, Marianne’s hand going instinctively to her throat and the clasp of the domino.

  “How are you, Lady Marianne?” said Alicia, to show at once that she knew her identity. “I have hardly spok
en to you since we came up to town.”

  Marianne pushed back the hood. “No,” she said a bit breathlessly.

  Alicia waited, looking curious.

  “Lord Devere was just…showing me what one wears to the masquerades. I have always wanted to attend one.” Marianne sounded both a little nervous and disappointed.

  “Indeed? I do not know whether a private masquerade will be held this Season. We had so many last, did we not, Lord Devere?”

  “Far too many,” he drawled, not the least discomfited. “And yet even the most familiar event can be amusing when seen with a fresh companion.”

  Marianne smiled up at him, and Alicia raised her eyebrows. She was about to make some dampening rejoinder when a deep voice from the doorway said, “What is this?” They all turned to face Ian MacClain, Devere grimacing visibly. “Marianne, I have been looking for you.”

  “Well, I am right here.”

  Her petulant tone made Alicia smile slightly. She sounded like a child deprived of some treat.

  Cairnyllan’s stern gaze took in Devere, Alicia, and the domino that still hung from Marianne’s shoulders. “Were you going out?” There was steel in his voice.

  “Lord Devere was showing me a domino,” replied his sister sulkily.

  “Was he?” His gaze brushed the other man contemptuously, then went back to Marianne. “Are you certain that is all? You were not thinking of attending a masquerade, after I expressly forbade it?”

  “And what if I was?” the girl exploded “I am sick to death of your rules and commands. You don’t want me to enjoy myself at all. It is perfectly all right to slip into the masquerade for a short time, if one keeps one’s mask on and stays with one’s own party. Everyone says so.”

  “Everyone?” He looked at Devere, who merely smiled.

  “Yes, everyone! Ask Lady Alicia. She knows what is proper.”

  Cairnyllan gazed challengingly at her. For some reason, Alicia flushed a little. “Sometimes,” she admitted, “parties attend the Pantheon masquerades. But it is not considered quite…”

  “Oh, not you too!” cried Marianne. “Everyone seems determined to prevent me from enjoying my first Season, but I thought you at least were different. You do as you please. I daresay you have been to a masquerade.” Before Alicia could protest that indeed she had not, the girl added, “I thought when you presented Lord Devere to me that you were on my side.” She looked accusingly at Alicia, whose heart sank.

  “You introduced them?” said Cairnyllan in an icy tone. In a rush, all his doubts about Alicia came flooding back. He had made inquiries about Devere since Marianne had shown such a marked preference for his company, and the result had made him both angry and uneasy. Devere was not the sort of man any girl should be acquainted with; there could be no two opinions about that. He had been told so even by sophisticated London matrons. And he had been wracking his brain ever since for a way to separate Marianne from the man without making matters worse. He knew if he forbade his sister Devere’s company, she would simply see more of him in defiance. He knew her temper too well. So he had been contenting himself with watching her carefully and trying to think of some scheme.

  But with the revelation of Alicia’s complicity, all his calm resolutions flew away. She was as bad as he had first believed, and the death of the small flame of hope that had started in his breast was bitter. “Marianne, you will take off that domino and come with me,” he commanded.

  “I shan’t! I am not a child any more, Ian. You cannot order me about in that way. I have waited all my life to come to London, and now that I am here, I am going to do everything!” She spread her arms, the black domino belling out, her red hair brilliant above it. “I am so tired of being hemmed in and bullied. You have been bullying me since I was three, Ian, but that is over now.” She laughed. “I will never leave London again. I am going to live here all my life.”

  Cairnyllan looked grim. “On the contrary, we will leave for Scotland tomorrow.”

  Devere grinned, and even Alicia could see that this was an error.

  “You may leave. I don’t care. I have friends here now who will take me in. The Congdons would be happy to have me. Anne and I are best friends. Or perhaps I shall find a husband who lives always in town, and then I shall never set foot in Scotland again, Ian.”

  Seeing that he had goaded her into a flaming temper, Ian tried to fall back. “You are overwrought. Come to Mama now, and—”

  “No!” Marianne tossed back her head and turned to Devere. “I think I should like to dance.” She held out her hand imperiously.

  He bowed. “Delighted. Will you, er, wear the domino?”

  Marianne held it out as if she had forgotten it, pulled it impatiently from her shoulders, and threw it on the parquet floor. Devere smiled and offered his arm. As she took it, Marianne added, “It will do you no good to run to Mama, Ian. I shall speak to her tonight in her bedchamber, and she will do as I ask.”

  They swept through the doorway and into the drawing room, leaving MacClain and Alicia gazing after them. “And she will, too,” muttered Ian bitterly.

  Alicia said nothing. She had noted the flash of fear that had accompanied the anger in Cairnyllan’s eyes, and known that his treatment of Marianne sprang from concern rather than fusty morality. And in this case, he had been quite right. It would have been disastrous for her to attend a masquerade escorted only by Devere. What had been his plans for afterward? Once again, Alicia fervently wished she had never introduced them.

  And even more, she wished that Cairnyllan had not found out. His low opinion of her must seem confirmed by this fact, and just when she had been trying to atone for her misjudgment.

  Cairnyllan looked up. “Enjoying the spectacle?” he inquired coldly. “Did you hope for such scenes when you presented my sister to your ‘friend’ Devere? You and he are in this together, I suppose. Does it amuse you to drag innocent girls down to your level? Or are you simply his creature, providing prey for his snares?”

  “How dare you?” Alicia gasped. She had been feeling sorry for him and wondering how she could help, but this accusation was so vile that she forgot her sympathy.

  “Oh, I dare a great deal, as you will find out soon enough. I will stop at nothing to save my sister from such as you and Devere. Be warned. I am not impressed by your consequence or daunted by his reputation. You have chosen the wrong victim this time!”

  “You are mad,” she retorted. “I have never heard such an insane rigamarole in my life. Lord Devere is a friend of one of my cousins, and I—”

  “If that is the sort of company your family keeps, I don’t wonder you behave as you do.”

  “If we are to talk of families, Lord Cairnyllan…” But she stopped at the look in his blue eyes.

  “So you have heard. I daresay it is one of the on-dits by this time. I have noticed that you Londoners are fond of French words. Do you think they hide the real nature of your interests? It is still scandal you talk, whatever you call it. And scandal you live. Stay away from my sister, Lady Alicia.” And he turned on his heel and was gone.

  Alicia was breathing rapidly, her fists clenched at her sides. But she forced herself to wait and grow calmer before she followed him back into the ballroom. The man was hopeless, she thought. Whatever his father had done, it was no excuse for the kind of insulting stupidity Cairnyllan repeatedly exhibited. She would forget the MacClains, all of them, from this moment forward.

  Seven

  The following evening, Lavinia and Alicia were promised to Mrs. Julia Beaufort, who had organized a party for Vauxhall. Alicia dressed for it with some care but no great enthusiasm. Mrs. Beaufort was an old friend of her family, and she could not seem to understand that Alicia had long ago left the schoolroom. Alicia did not dislike her—indeed, one could not—but she did object to being treated with amused indulgence at the age of five and twenty. Yet Mrs. Beaufor
t’s invitations and attentions were so well-meant that she rarely refused her.

  She did, however, choose one of the most sophisticated of her gowns, a sea-green gauze trimmed with bunches of dark green ribbon. To the matching wrap and slippers, she added a fan her mother had left her. It had come from China and held a delicately painted landscape in various shades of green and gray on its slender wooden panels. Alicia felt it gave her toilette a certain worldly air; surely their hostess must at last notice that she was past fifteen.

  They arrived at the Beaufort townhouse at nine, and were greeted in a flurry of lavender silk in the drawing room. Though Julia Beaufort was a large woman, she always moved in sudden rushes, with much expressive gesture. Alicia’s father had once attributed her manner to the fact that she had been widowed very young and never chosen to remarry. Certainly if she saw herself as thirty, Alicia had realized, she must see the younger generation as children.

  “Alicia, darling!” she cried as she enveloped the girl in a scented embrace. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen you.”

  “How are you, Aunt Julia?”

  “Oh, perfectly well, as ever. But let me look at you.” She held Alicia away from her ample bosom. “I declare, you are more like your mother each day. And what a sweet gown, dear.”

  Alicia smiled. She wondered what the extremely fashionable, and expensive, Bond Street modiste who had made the dress would say if she heard it described so. It was, in fact, the antithesis of “sweet,” as the two of them had intended. Though not quite unsuitable for an unmarried girl, it was certainly at the limits of what one might wear. Its tiny sleeves and scooped neck showed Alicia’s lovely neck and shoulders to their best advantage. But Julia Beaufort saw only what she wished to see. “Thank you, Aunt Julia,” replied Alicia, still smiling.