He moved to the drinks tray with a graceful stride, watched closely by his parent, whose eyes shone with a modicum of pride in her offspring. Lady Alana stared at him as well—with a gleam of admiration shining in her eyes he could only suppose for his bearing and manliness.
Lady Eleanor and Sir Gordon, gazed at one another lovingly and missed the conversation entirely. They jumped guiltily when the Countess barked at them—her penchant for mischief growing by the moment.
"Do show some manners as there are others in the room. Gaping at one another like smitten youngsters will not do—not do at all." She fixed them with an amused glance then turned her attention back to the other pair, who had chosen to sit as far away from one another as possible.
Rothburn found his mother's admonishments to Sir Gordon and Lady Eleanor amusing. Upon catching the eye of the delectable Alana whose warning glance disapproved his behavior, he managed to squelch his grin.
"Rothburn, please come closer, I would that I could see you and dislike craning my neck in such an unnatural fashion just to do so."
Rothburn, resigned to dancing her tune, removed to the only chair available that would bring him fully into the view of his parent. The chair was, of course, in close proximity to that of Lady Alana.
"I should not want to be the cause of your discomfort. Is this more to your liking, Mother dear?" His voice—rich with resentment—belied features carefully schooled to a lack of interest.
"Very much so, thank you." The Countess scanned the faces before her and smiled in a deceptively gentle manner, drawing out the silence in the room. Watching each one in turn, she tried to see past company manners and get a fix on their reflections. She was quite good at reading thoughts, and though sometimes she misread, she was not wont to admit it.
So far she had gleaned much. Sir Gordon, whose open features made no pretence of hiding his besotted state, she dismissed. One could not manipulate a person so openly agreeable to his fate.
Lady Eleanor, trying desperately to hide her regard for the knight, failed miserably. Her eyes bespoke her feelings, hands gripping one another painfully to keep them still. Perhaps she could discomfit this young woman a bit, but had no real heart for it of a sudden.
The earl, whom she could see through immediately, was her first choice of victim. He had closed his face and refused to look at her directly, an indication that he was hiding something. He had also gulped his sherry and was glancing covertly at the drinks tray, knowing that she frowned upon over indulgence.
The Countess could see he wanted another, but she'd be dashed if she would offer it. Never do to allow him to get too relaxed, and it would not serve her purpose at all were he cup-shot.
And then there was the indomitable Lady Alana whose features were also politely blank. She would be difficult to maneuver. Her very stubborn nature would not allow her to be easily led.
Pleased beyond measure by this, the Countess refused to show such emotion as would tip her hand to the astute young woman. She liked Lady Alana more with each observance.
Deciding to be frank and open the conversation with something that would overset them all, the Lady Susan harrumphed noisily to draw their attention and once all eyes were upon her, began. "It has been brought to my notice you are all quite foolishly considering the wrong alliance."
"What? Devil take it Mother, what are you about?" Recognizing her opening gambit, he moved to put a stop to it. "Where are the manners you have so diligently instilled in me over the years?"
His voice registered alarm. He'd never spoken to her thus—though a desire to protect Lady Alana had provoked it.
"Never say I have no manners. I am speaking the truth and you all well know it." Lady Susan stared at Rothburn for a long moment.
"Perhaps 'inappropriate alliance' would have been a better phrase. You see, I happen to be aware that Sir Gordon has a fancy for Lady Eleanor, who is betrothed to you and you have a fancy for Lady Alana, who is far too old to wed and produce an heir."
Her statement unleashed a current of speech that well satisfied her, for she had managed to anger, confuse and generally discomfit the entire group. Sir Gordon, sitting straight up, fixed her with a look very close to dislike, while Lady Eleanor nearly swooned with temper. Lady Alana actually flushed, her careful façade of indifference crumbling immediately.
"Mother, this is beyond belief!" Rothburn barked in indignation.
"I must protest, Madam. I cannot have you maligning my tender regard—" Sir Gordon protested with some heat.
"Countess Rothburn, I beg you, have some pity—" Lady Eleanor, blushing deeply, spoke with a thread of panic.
Lady Alana remained silent, her posture fairly quivering with outrage. She looked to Rothburn and then back at Lady Susan, her eyes sparking in a manner that boded ill for the elder woman.
Her continued silence began to make Lady Susan just a tad nervous, and she realized that the younger woman had neatly turned the tables with her lack of response.
Countess Rothburn tried once more. "Lady Alana, of course I mean no disrespect, but even you can see that it is my son's duty to produce an heir. Now, Lady Eleanor is just one and twenty, a prime age for child bearing, while you are—"
"Cease at once, Mother! I demand that you stop this invasion of another person's privacy! At once, do you hear?"
The earl stood and faced his mother, putting a protective hand upon Lady Alana's shoulder as he spoke. "As it happens, you have the right of it. I fully intend to wed this lady with all haste—with or without your blessing—and Sir Gordon will wed where he wishes as well."
He looked at his mother with eyes brimming anger, his features drawn severely as he waited for her to speak. Never in his life had he rung a peal over his parent, and was a trifle guilty at having done so now. Yet he could not stand by and let her humiliate Lady Alana in this manner.
"I think not, my lord." Lady Alana spoke at last, her voice strong with purpose, her eyes on the Countess with cool regard. "I have no wish to be led in this manner and your mother has given evidence she is every bit as calculating as my own parent. Were I to regard you as a suitor—and I do not—your mother's behavior would certainly put me off the whole thing."
Not one to be bested, Lady Alana played her trump card and appeared greatly satisfied when Lady Susan blanched and withdrew her gaze first.
"I say, Alana, do be more respectful—" Sir Gordon, who was well aware of his aunt's ability to spar unmercifully with anyone who displeased her, tried to head her off, not wanting the evening to turn into a fiasco of bickering.
"You!" Alana fixed him with a sneering glance. "You are most reprehensible. How can you just sit there and allow this—this person to decide your future? Has she the right?"
Sir Gordon flushed, but fell silent, looking solicitously at the lady seated next to him. He patted her hand where it lay on his sleeve, not glancing again at his relative.
Rothburn, the wind apparently taken out of his sails by her abrupt dismissal of his declaration of intent, sat abruptly in his chair and ran a hand over his face. Anger at his mother and his acute disappointment at Lady Alana's comment riling his senses, he glared from one to the other.
Lady Alana, regretting her outburst, refused to look in his direction. The wind, it seemed, had suddenly gone from her sails. She sat very still, except for massaging the shoulder where his hand had rested while he defended her. The hand he removed immediately at her strident words.
* * * * *
As the silence stretched uncomfortably the individuals in the room stole glances at one another. Lady Susan gathered her scattered wits and decided to end this uncomfortable scene with an apology. She shifted in her chair and sighed inwardly.
"Perhaps I have been hasty in my assumptions," she began with a quivering smile, "and if you can forgive an old lady her meddling—"
She stopped abruptly at hearing a snort of derision from the earl, who knew well that she did not regard herself as elderly. She fixed her gaze upon him,
beseeching and suddenly wary. "Rothburn, please allow me to finish. This is not easy for me, as you can imagine."
He nodded reluctantly and chanced a look at the lady of his desire, noting Alana had softened her attitude as his mother implored her with pleading gaze. "Do forgive me, my dear. I actually like you very much and—"
Tears formed in the Countesses' eyes, her voice trailing off as she gulped back a sob. This was not her normal thespian display, but something quite real. She made a concerted effort to control her voice and spoke with more strength. "—and it was very bad of me to say such things. I don't quite know what came over me. Do not disregard my son's affections just because I am a complete fool."
Slumped in her chair, Lady Susan allowed her eyes to drop to her hands as they worried one another in seeming distress. Rothburn watched in amusement as his mater—clearly recovered in his experienced eye—could not resist a bit of playacting.
Lady Alana, seemingly satisfied that she'd nipped the elder woman's manipulations in the bud, began immediately to repair the damage she had done. The earl's eyes upon her, burning into her, drew her gaze.
Though she spoke for his benefit, she returned her attention to his mother. "Madam, please forgive my outburst as well. You spoke in such a manner that I was compelled to defend myself, and I must confess that I, too, have thought of my age as a deterrent to the purpose you mentioned."
"Balderdash!" Countess Rothburn recovered herself with some speed and sat straight up, her voice firm. "You are quite healthy and should have no trouble giving me grandchildren. Why, your own mother had three, did she not, and well past your age, I should think."
Rothburn decided to end this conversation lest it erupt into another disagreeable stalemate—and wishing to get Lady Alana alone—he spoke up without delay. "Mother, since dinner is nearly an hour off, please excuse myself and Lady Alana. We are going to walk in the garden."
Recovering his self confidence at her confession, he gave Alana such a look that she could not disavow him and she arose from her chair when he looked at her expectantly. The pair quit the room, gazing at one another with deep longing.
"Well, that seems to be settled. Now for you two." The Countess grinned saucily at Sir Gordon to counter his frown of censure. "I suppose you want to walk in the garden as well?"
Not waiting for an answer, the Countess waved her hand at the French doors and spoke in a thoughtful tone. "Just beware the others who walk among my flowers. It would not do for the four of you to try to work things out. I will be the mediator in this."
Fully aware that she had lost all control over the situation, Countess Rothburn was not dissatisfied with the results of her meddling. She had managed to get them all to come forth with the truth and she was certain that before the evening had waned, she would be welcoming a new future daughter-in-law and giving congratulations to the other pair as well.
Her only job now would be to soothe her friend Lady Janice, for the two of them had long hoped for a wedding between their children. She was certain, however, Lady Janice would uphold her support for the match between Sir Gordon and Lady Eleanor, for his manner and reputation were impeccable, and his coffers overflowing.
She did frown slightly at the thought of having to deal with Lady Grace, whom she had seen from a distance at various functions but had not come face to face with since her youth. She would, she decided with a squaring of her shoulders, be quite up to the task and would brook no interference from the woman, should she prove to be difficult.
Lady Susan watched Sir Gordon escort Lady Eleanor from the room, his arm about her waist, his eyes glued to her countenance with tender regard, her look mirroring his own. The Countess exhaled a melancholy sigh and fingered the locket at her throat, opening the clasp with dexterity borne of long practice.
Perhaps it was time to put the locket away, she thought, gazing upon her long lost love. She was young yet and her son would be married soon. Her purpose would be spent and she should look for a life of her own.
She had no taste for being consigned to the dowager status that would be her fate and allowed her thoughts to stray to a certain gentleman who had shown a marked regard for her over the years. Perhaps she would have a romance of her own.
* * * * *
Rothburn, guided his lady love to a bower seat in the far corner of the rose garden. "I know that my outburst was inconsiderate. I should have made my feelings known to you first, but Mother angered me so thoroughly that I could not contain myself. Can you forgive me?"
He stood gazing at her with pleading eyes that wandered to her lips.
Assailed by an impish desire to discomfit him before she allowed him a kiss, Alana kept her features smooth, her gaze bland. "You exposed me to censure with your avowal! I would that you had spoken with me first."
Seeing him squirm beneath the accusation, she relented with a smile. "However, as you have publicly announced your feelings, I shall allow you to do so again—privately."
Her last word was breathless as he reached down and drew her to her feet, crushing her against him, his open mouth descending on hers with fierce passion. His tongue swept between her slightly parted lips, ravaging her almost savagely and wrapping ardently around her own tongue, drawing it into his hot mouth.
Alana trembled, waves of heat washing through her blood and over her sensitized flesh. She strained against him as he slid a hand down her back, cupping her buttock with one hand, pulling her against his grinding hips, the evidence of his passion pressing hard against her abdomen.
It was a long time before the couple broke apart, only to come together once more as their hungry feelings erupted and overflowed in an erotic display. Yet when his hands strayed to her bodice, intent on pushing the material down and freeing her breasts, Alana came to her senses, pushing him gently away.
"Then you will marry me?" Rothburn's voice, rough with unfulfilled desire stroked her senses. His eyes burned into hers with such intensity that Alana quivered beneath his hot gaze.
"Answer me with a 'no' and I will not stop kissing you until you have changed your mind," he murmured against her lips as he nibbled upon them, giving her no chance to answer.
His hands returned to their busy task, and nearly pulled the ribbons at her bodice free before she could manage to stop him. His groan of frustration matched her feelings, but Lady Alana was not wont to lie in the grass and be tumbled like a scullery maid. She refrained from saying so.
Drawing back, she turned her head away, took a deep breath and whispered shakily, "Rothburn, I would marry you, yes, but you must learn to share your thoughts with me before you do so with others."
Her words were immediately stopped by his seeking mouth and this time his hands were not stilled or swatted away. Having gained her consent, Rothburn felt free to explore those places upon her person that he had heretofore only dreamed of. The lady did not protest, and in fact gave every evidence of welcoming his burning touch.
* * * * *
On the far side of the garden, Sir Gordon pressed his suit with Lady Eleanor. Seated side by side on the marble bench, the pair gazed silently at one another, seeking without words to convey their extensive feelings.
Lady Eleanor, blushing under his hot-blooded stare, lowered her eyes.
Sir Gordon, very much the courtly gentleman, looked away once he realized she was embarrassed by his eager passion.
Shyly, she stole a glance at his profile and sensing her eyes upon him, he turned his face to hers once again. A spark of electricity hummed between the pair and he drew closer, aching to touch his lips to hers. When she did not withdraw, he moved closer still, his breath warm against her mouth. Her parted lips invited him. Cajoled him. Called to him.
Murmuring her name with a tremor in his voice, he placed his hands upon her face and pulled her mouth up to his.
The touch of their flesh, one upon the other, burst into a fire of questing as their tongues contacted and the shy Lady Eleanor melted beneath his touch. Breathing in the es
sence of her scent, Sir Gordon lifted his head long enough to murmur, "I fear the waiting for you will be intolerable. Will you give me permission to call upon your father soon?"
Lady Eleanor, clasping her hands behind his neck, drew him closer and whispered, "Oh yes, Gordon dearest—the sooner the better."
A long silence prevailed in that corner of the garden, relieved only by occasional sighs and restrained moans.
Chapter Ten
~~~
Come away from there immediately!" Lady Susan spoke to her maid whose face was pressed to the window of the sleeping chamber. "For shame, spying upon those young people in such a manner."
She moved across the room and pushed her way in front of the servant, glimpsing the scene below with a loud harrumph. "Can you not see they are engaged in very—private conversations?"
"Conversations, Milady? Looks like not much is getting said at the moment." Aggie, long accustomed to her employer's eccentric ways, did not hesitate to wedge herself into the space, causing the Countess to shift her person aside to allow the maid access once more to the window.
"Impertinent baggage! I shall fire you tomorrow." Of course, having said this many times over the years, Countess Rothburn did not mean it, but as always, felt compelled to chastise her personal maid for her forwardness.
Both women trained their gazes upon the scenes unfolding in the garden and forgot to spar in their normal manner. Aggie, unafraid of her mistress and quite familiar with her in speech as well as behavior merely smirked. She had served Lady Susan as personal maid since they had turned fourteen. Being only a few weeks older, Aggie felt a deep abiding camaraderie with her mistress.
Lady Susan never spared her a scolding yet had shown many kindnesses, aiding Aggie's parents through famine and illness. She'd also given the old couple a cottage on the estate where they were now retired and content, well fed and prospering with the stipend allotted them by the largesse of the earl.
"So we are to have a wedding then?" Aggie regarded her employer with eagerness, knowing the other's longing for grandchildren, especially an heir to continue the line."Perhaps two, if my eyes don't deceive me."
A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) Page 10
