The pain of that long ago incident stole into Lady Susan's eyes for a fleeting moment, then her mask of indifference came forth to shutter her look once more. "Fortunately your mother was too clever to put these things about the ton and Pendleton, being a gentleman of the highest order, never would. The incident was kept quiet, but he begged off, giving his love for your mother as his main consideration."
The two young women looked at one another and back to the Countess, their attention fully upon her. Countess Rothburn paused with a theatrical lift of her chin and shrugged her shoulders gracefully, holding the spotlight and withholding her next words with a dramatic pause. When Lady Alana shifted restlessly in her chair and Lady Eleanor opened her mouth as though to interrupt the moment, she continued.
"My father was all too willing to forgo the match for he had not liked my marrying outside the peerage. In fact, he'd only agreed because of the regard he held for the Pendleton family." Her matter-of-fact speech belied the anguish that assailed her in recalling this incident.
"I was allowed to be the one to publicly withdraw, saving face, if you will. But the sad part of it for me was seeing that Lady Grace did not care for him, only his money, and she was ruthless in her pursuit of my beau. Her family was in dire financial straits, you see, and she was determined to marry the wealthiest personage she could find."
Countess Rothburn then paused dramatically once more. Placing a hand to her heart, she continued in what sounded suspiciously close to tears, "Ours had been a love match, at least for me, and I was crushed."
"Surely there were other men of wealth in the peerage she could have chosen from?" Lady Eleanor, curiosity stimulated, could not withhold her comment. "Why did she choose Pendleton?"
"Because he was mine. Because she and I had quarreled on occasion and we were not on friendly terms. She was perhaps jealous of me. Lady Grace disliked any female who came close to rivaling her beauty and I was not exactly plain."
The Countess glanced meaningfully at the portrait hung over the mantle. "That is I, you know, at the tender age of seventeen."
She waited a moment while the two young women gazed at the portrait, then went on. "Although, this is only speculation for I'm not really certain. All I know is that one day I was close to being engaged to Mathis and the next day he had sent 'round a note of apology and begged off from attending dinner at our manor house. He came later, of course, with his father, and they closeted themselves in the study for hours with my father and the end result was that I was left without a suitor."
Both Lady Alana and Lady Eleanor, though attending her words, still gawked at the portrait, for the visage there was indeed quite beautiful and elegant. The girl posed with a small spaniel at her feet, lying against the folds of the russet velvet gown, the bodice of which was cut daringly low to reveal creamy round shoulders and the youthful swell of her bosom.
A fall of raven hair draped over one shoulder, the wide forehead and sculpted, thin black brows were a perfect match for the wide dark brown eyes and sweeping lashes. There was still a look about the woman that suggested that long-ago girl.
Sitting up very straight and assuming a no nonsense posture, Countess Rothburn changed the subject with all haste Her memories were overcoming her and she did not wish for these two young ladies to be privy to her private pain. "Well, I see that it is nearly luncheon, so if you would like to refresh yourselves, I shall do the same and I will meet you in the dining room in ten minutes."
She reached for the bell pull and sent her guests off with the footman to repair their toilettes before the meal. After they had gone, she sat for a long moment gazing at a small miniature encased in a gold locket that she always wore about her neck. The young man—not her late husband—had deep brown eyes and an engaging cleft in his chin, wavy light brown hair, so like Sir Gordon's, and a gentle, appealing mouth. Sighing, she snapped the object closed and rose to follow her visitors from the room.
* * * * *
Susan George, Countess of Rothburn, wanted to impress her young guests with the importance of her standing and wealth and surveyed her table with supreme confidence. The luncheon was splendidly arrayed with the finest Waterford Crystal, the family silver depicting the Rothburn crest in an elaborate pattern of dragons, gleaming against the damask cloth.
The plate was a delicate bone china, rimmed liberally with gold. The centerpiece, a large antique soup tureen, emitted the delicious aroma of turtle bisque on a small furl of steam. This was not the normal every day dinnerware, even for guests. These things were typically kept for banquet occasions with more important personages.
From the head of the table, the elder surveyed the elegant array with pride and smiled with benevolence upon her companions.
"You may serve now, Claude." She addressed the hovering footman, who sprang into action and began dipping the rich soup into their bowls.
As they enjoyed the first course, the Countess chatted on matters of no import and kept well away from their main topic and reason for being here. She did so love to draw things out, heighten the suspense and satisfy herself that she, and she alone, controlled any given situation.
"As you may or may not know, my rose beds are being considered this year for the Royal Award. Of course, I received it four years ago, but I've been sadly out of the running since Lady Chatham has since then taken the prize, I'm afraid. But this year I intend to win—I've had my gardeners nursing that flowerbed night and day. They practically sleep there. After luncheon I'll show you my gardens. They are quite peaceful."
Both ladies murmured appropriate responses of gratitude for the tour and congratulations for her prize-winning roses, assuring her that they felt she would win this year's competition with ease. The conversation went on in this maddening vein for most of the meal.
However, when dessert—a delectable fruit compote—was served, the Countess decided it was time to get back to the business at hand.
She could detect a certain restlessness and growing irritation in Lady Alana and a definite dispensation toward a nervous fit emitting from Lady Eleanor. Amused and gratified that she had controlled and manipulated the conversation, the Lady Susan returned to the main topic once more. But her next words startled both young women no end.
Placing her fork tines down across the plate, she pierced Lady Alana with a stern and censorious gaze and whipped her words out in a very interrogative manner. "Why is it, my dear, that you have turned down no less than eleven suitors in these five years past?"
Alana returned the other woman's look with a seemingly innocent appraisal, then spoke in a most superior way. "I am the daughter and granddaughter of both an earl and a marquis. As such, I must be allowed to pick a suitable husband, and not one of those men met my exacting standards, if you must know."
"Rubbish!" Countess Rothburn stated with a sternness to her features known to make those of lesser backbone quake. Lady Alana merely smiled and tilted her head in a manner to indicate interest.
"I say you are an independently wealthy and very headstrong young woman who has heretofore not met a man who could handle your proclivity for managing and manipulation.
"I say so, because I knew your mother. Though," she held up a staying hand as Alana opened her mouth to argue, "you appear to be much better mannered and of infinitely better character.
"I should think you do not get along with Lady Grace because you are much like her—in some ways, at least. Perhaps you decline the wedded state just to thwart her?"
"Madam, I did not come here to be insulted, nor have my mother insulted. Although I can understand, from what you have told us you have every reason to dislike my parent. That aside, I would have you cease this criticism for you fool me not one whit."
Drawing a quick breath, Lady Alana allowed her voice to rise just a decibel as she gave full reign to her temper. "Your attempt to dissuade me from my so-called interest in your son has succeeded. I can see that I could not be happy dealing with a mother-in-law who holds me in such conte
mpt! I shall withdraw from this table, and be gone, if you would be so kind as to have my carriage sent 'round."
While she spoke, Lady Alana stood and turned to leave, but spun around again in astonishment as the Countess burst forth with a very unladylike bray of laughter.
"Oh do sit down, young woman. I think you will do nicely. Have backbone, you do!" Between gasps of laughter, the Countess, whose eyes brimmed tears, waved in an authoritative manner to draw the girl back to her seat.
Alana returned to the table with some reluctance and sat down gingerly, glancing at Lady Eleanor whose blank features gave no indication that she was even involved in the conversation.
Indeed, Lady Eleanor had decided upon neutrality as prudent, not wishing to draw such an invective to herself. It also became apparent she was sadly mistaken in thinking she would be exempted so easily.
Turning her head in a regal manner, the Countess of Rothburn fixed her critical gaze upon Eleanor and barked at her in the same manner she had done with the other woman. "What is this I hear of you making such a spectacle of yourself at Almack's as to be put in disgrace with the patronesses?"
"I—I cannot say. I only danced with Sir Gordon—" She halted as though she realized that she was indeed being baited by the Countess, who already knew the entire story. She sat up straighter, giving the older woman a level look.
Lady Alana, amused by the change of tactics and relieved to be out of the line of fire, so to speak, looked on in curious speculation.
"Oh very well, if you must know," Eleanor stated with spirit, "I danced four times with him and I am not sorry, nor do I regret the loss of my vouchers. It is quite beyond belief that we should have to dance to the tune of those dried up old—old hags!"
With that said, she wilted against the back of her chair and lifted her fingers to her lips as though to contain further words, appearing as surprised at her outburst as the others.
"Ah hah! So you have some backbone as well Eleanor. Who would have thought it?" Countess Rothburn gazed slyly at Lady Alana then back to Lady Eleanor, "Mayhap your association with this veritable paragon of women's rights has rubbed off well upon you."
The Countess, who would have spoken again, was interrupted at that moment by the butler whose purpose was to announce new arrivals, one of whom was close on his heels and did not wait to be announced.
"Really, Johnston, don't be absurd. No need to tell Mater I've arrived." Quashing the butler with a look, he strode into the room only to come to a full stop. Mouth agape, he stared at the two women who were uppermost in his mind sitting sedately with his mother over a lingering cup of tea.
He actually shuffled his feet in alarm under the stern gaze of his parent, which angered him no end. A deep flush came over his face.
"Ah, how do ladies. Mother." He bowed at them and then subsided, mind whirling at this unexpected development.
"I did tell his lordship that you had guests, My Lady. He would come in here regardless. I'm terribly sorry." The butler, who was quite put out with the young master, bowed his way out the door, stepping aside as Sir Gordon, looking much astonished, entered the room.
"Good grief!" Rothburn burst out, unable to contain his chagrin any longer. "What are you two doing here?" It was a very foolish question. One which no one answered. All three ladies looked upon the earl as though he were a bug that had crawled in through the wainscoting.
He turned to Sir Gordon and shrugged, his hands splayed in a gesture of supplication. "Didn't know she had guests—and these two guests, I'd never have thought... " Well aware he appeared foolish standing there under the condemning gaze of his mother—as though he were a naughty child—his voice trailed away.
"We are lunching, as you can well see for yourself." Lady Alana, who could not like his tone, answered the scowling earl with heavy sarcasm. "Are you then blind, that you cannot perceive our purpose at table?"
Sir Gordon sketched a hasty bow to the Countess, as well as his aunt and Lady Eleanor, and cleared his throat before speaking, a sure sign of nervousness. "Forgive the intrusion. Actually, Rothburn and I were just off to the billiards room, were we not, old fellow?"
He looked a question at Rothburn whose only answer was to turn on his heel, muttering under his breath. Sir Gordon followed him from the room. His mournful glance at the delicacies on the sideboard amused Alana, who knew he lamented the loss of a good meal, having shared his torture of late at their own table.
"Whatever are they doing here?" Lady Eleanor, hand to her heart to quiet the fluttering there, gazed longingly after her beloved. At sixes and sevens—caused by the implications of being found here with Lady Alana—she waxed faint. She retreated from her earlier burst of defiance, adopting her rather mild and unobtrusive demeanor once again.
"We shall soon find out as I plan to invite them—and you as well—to stay for high tea. It is time, ladies that we put all of our cards on the table." The Countess was pleased as punch, having disconcerted both young women, who exclaimed together, "No! Never say so!"
The Countess of Rothburn prevailed, however, her young companions having no choice but to comply or risk losing her as an ally in their plotting. For her part, The Countess was quite delighted with this turn of events. It gave her ample opportunity to observe the foursome close up and decide for herself if their affections were indeed engaged as they had professed. She also saw opportunity to manipulate to her heart's content.
* * * * *
"Bit of a sticky wicket, eh?" Sir Gordon sounded shocked.
"What the bloody hell are they doing here?" Rothburn chalked up his cue, looking down its length for straightness, bouncing it in his hand to test the balance and weight. "Should never have thought they even knew one another. And to find them both here with my mother! Do you suppose they are hatching some sort of plot?"
He shuddered at what might have transpired among those ladies.
"I shouldn't think so. Why would they?" Sir Gordon, looking down the cue and sizing up his shot, straightened immediately, and intoned with alarm, "What sort of plot? What could they be plotting, do you think?"
"Probably jumping through hoops trying to get my mother to help reinstate Lady Eleanor's vouchers, I should think. That and getting me married off as well. Do hurry up and shoot, Gordon."
Forgetting that his original purpose in coming here was to get his mother to accept Lady Alana as the bride of his choice, Rothburn sounded quite resentful. "What else do women do besides plot matrimony?"
"Should think you would be glad. Why else are we here?" Sir Gordon sounded puzzled. He neatly clicked off his shot and reach for the chalk, ruminating as though to himself, "I would be glad, don't you know, if your mother aided us and—"
"Aid us? Not her, I should think!" As though explaining to a dimwitted child, he told Sir Gordon once more that his mother was not likely to countenance a match with the daughter of her old enemy. He'd come to fly in the face of convention and defy her, hoping—at best—she would cause no problems, but never, never did he expect her to aid them.
He stretched his long body over the table, carefully keeping one foot upon the floor and smoothly applied the cue, knocking into the ball of his choice, which glanced off the rail and fell short of its mark.
"Well, I should think you would withhold that opinion until you have at least spoken with her on the subject. After all, your mother is not disagreeable, nor have I ever found her to be less than gracious—"
"Oh do leave off! I know my mother much better than you. Perhaps she does not appear disagreeable to you, but you have never done anything to bring on one of her tantrums. And trust in me, she can play the wounded matriarch to the hilt. Regular thespian she is at times."
"I think you are just a bit shy of the noose and I find it rather amusing." Sir Gordon dodged expertly as the other man took a half-hearted swipe at him with his billiards stick. "Besides, it looks as though the ladies have been here for hours, luncheon and all that. Expect that your mother would have sent them on thei
r way with a flea in their ear before now, were there anything to worry about."
He then bent to his task and neatly clicked one ball against another at such an angle as to make Rothburn's next shot nigh impossible.
"Stop grinning! You never beat me at this; you have just had a lucky shot. 'Sides, I'm quite distracted at the moment. Let's stop talking about it." Rothburn, looking askance at the position of his next shot, tried and failed to get back his position, swore softly and went to lean against the wall.
"Seems you have put yourself in a rather awkward position," Sir Gordon noted, his comment referring to both the billiards shot and the situation in the dining room.
"I'm sure Mater is not aware of who Lady Alana's mother is, or she would have been gone long before now. Seems rather incredible that Lady Eleanor should be prancing about with her. Didn't know they were acquainted. Did you?"
Rothburn, puzzled in the extreme and not quite himself, wiped a bead of perspiration from his upper lip.
"Thought you said not to talk about it," Sir Gordon goaded. "Likely met at one of those ladies' teas and Lady Eleanor invited her along to see your mater. Probably a very simple explanation for it all."
Rothburn, giving his normally quiet and composed companion a piercing glance, noted Sir Gordon's pallor and wondered how the man would hold up should his mama, Countess Rothburn, turn a bloody diatribe on the fellow. He snickered at the thought, earning a questioning gaze from Sir Gordon. He ignored it, as he ignored the comment.
* * * * *
The Countess gathered her brood of love-struck visitors in the small drawing room for a before dinner sherry, her purpose well hidden behind a façade of good breeding and polite manners. "Rothburn, it would please me were you to pour us a small libation, for I believe a sherry before dinner is quite the thing."
"Of course Madam, I would be most delighted." Rothburn noted the absence of servants with some consternation, for it could only mean that his mother had wanted total privacy for this venture.
A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) Page 9
