A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series)

by Diane Davis White

  Allie lowered her gaze, trembling hands hidden beneath the folds of her gown. She looked up as Lady Susan continued.

  "Someone suggested—" and here Countess Rothburn looked archly at the girl, preening slightly so there could be no doubt as to who had done the suggesting "—it might be the daughter of one of our foreign ambassadors. Since no one actually recognized her you can imagine the stir it has caused among the gossips, who cannot stand to be thwarted. They have sat down en mass to try to discover her identity, but of course, they never shall."

  At that moment March came in to announce dinner and Allie could only smile in gratitude for the obvious mechanisms the Countess had created to protect her from gossip.

  Then the Countess changed the subject abruptly by demanding that Sir Gordon escort her in to dine. "Rothburn, you may take this young woman here," she nodded at Lady Alana. "Griffin, do look lively lad and give this lovely lass your arm."

  Without blinking an eye, she put Allie in harm's way.

  "At your service, Aunt Susan." Griffin crossed the room obediently and bowed to his aunt, then turned to Allie, his arm held at the prescribed angle to be taken, his face a blank mask. "Miss Pendleton, may I have the honor of being your escort?"

  His voice betrayed none of the nervousness he experienced but his face did go rather white when Allie's warm hand touched his sleeve. Her fingertips burned right through the cloth of his coat and the fine linen beneath. He forgot to breathe.

  As she moved into step beside him he realized how small she was, not even coming to his shoulder. The fragrance of roses wafting from her hair, coupled with an intoxicating scent so especially hers, assailed his senses. Griffin found a renewed sagacity of purpose. Allie would be his.

  For her part, when Allie placed her hand on Griffin's arm, feeling the swell of strong muscle beneath his coat, she had gone weak in the knees. The quiver that went through his arm at her touch, resonated in her fingertips, traveling to the region of her heart, but it was as nothing to the tremors that had begun in the lower regions of her abdomen.

  She dared not look at him for fear of swooning. He had not spoken, apart from the invitation to walk with her, so Allie held her peace as well. There would be plenty said, she was certain, after dinner.

  * * * * *

  Allie, seated across from Griffin, had Rothburn on her left and her aunt at the end of the table on her right. Good manners dictated that one speak only with the person on either side of one, never across the table. Allie thought the arrangement splendid as she was not required to engage in conversation yet with the man who'd crushed her heart. Another part of her wanted desperately to speak with him. See him smile just for her.

  Still, she thought he might be repentant—judging by the covert and poignant looks he'd been giving her. He looked wonderfully splendid in a tailor made evening jacket of black with silver lapels. His britches were of the finest cloth and fit him fashionably, defining well muscled legs.

  Allie could hardly keep her eyes from drifting to him, and she wondered how long she could sustain this façade of indifference.

  Her aunt had coached her all afternoon on how to behave with him. Allie was supposed to be cool, aloof, indifferent and polite, and that would supposedly whet his appetite. Lady Alana had intoned in a mocking voice 'Men only want what they can't have. Once they have it, it is up to us to make sure they are kept off balance, lest they take us for granted."

  Lost in rumination, Allie did not hear Rothburn's question and had to be prompted by him.

  "Allie, I'll ask you once more are you going to the Harkness Masquerade Ball with us tomorrow night?"

  His eyes cut to Griffin as he questioned her and she was aware of the maneuver. He was speaking for his cousin, of course.

  "I think not, my lord. I will most likely have a headache by then." Her words, so typical of a feminine ploy, did not fool Rothburn. He laughed loudly and defying protocol, leaned past her to take gentle umbrage with Lady Alana, who had given him an icy shoulder all the evening long.

  "Lady Alana, have you been coaching this young woman? She has developed a headache that will not start until tomorrow evening. Is that not strange?" He laughed at Alana with his eyes, eyes that were also full of promise for something more. Then he scorched her with a gaze he could not hold back. A flicker of response in her eyes before she regarded him with cool elegance made him smile.

  "Your manners Rothburn!" His mother interrupted him with a cold glance of her own.

  Damnation! How could a fellow get on with his mother standing by to thwart him at every turn?

  Sir Gordon, thoroughly enjoying a conversation with Griffin, as well as the many nuances going on around him, had a longing for Lady Eleanor and wished he'd had the foresight to invite her and her parents to dine.

  It would've made for an even livelier entertainment, he was sure. Lord Avonleigh was every bit as eccentric as Rothburn's parent and his wife as outspoken, if a bit less foolish. Excepting, of course, her taste in décor.

  "Sir?" Griffin's voice penetrated his musings and Sir Gordon flushed with embarrassment at having been caught out wool gathering. He turned his attention to the younger man and smiled.

  "Sorry. Just thinking of someone—ah, something, that is." With amusement, he eyed Griffin's attention drifting across the table—not for the first time tonight. "Are you for a game of billiards after our Port?"

  He teased the younger man, knowing full well he would be sent to the far end of the drawing room to chat with Allie and would not take kindly to having it put off by a game of billiards or any diversion, for that matter.

  "What? Billiards, Sir?" Griffin tugged at his collar, showing his discomfiture, and his voice—normally quite deep and manly—took on a higher pitch. "I think not. Hadn't you planned for Allie and me to have our talk after dinner?"

  The note of hope in his voice was not lost on Sir Gordon, who decided to take pity on the poor fellow, having been through quite an emotional ringer himself in the last twenty-four hours.

  "Oh, quite right. I had forgotten." He lied smoothly but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away and Griffin grinned at him, catching on quickly.

  His face turned solemn of a sudden, however, and he leaned close, speaking in a low voice. "Sir, you must know this is very serious for me and her as well. Sorry I cannot find much humor in the situation. Truth be known, afraid she'll reject me. Don'tcha know?"

  "Ah yes, my boy. I know very well what you're feeling. Went through it just this afternoon. Came out very well though, I believe. Lady was reluctant to see me go. Have a date to trot her through the park tomorrow." Glancing at Allie and back at Griffin, he queried. "If she doesn't put a flea in your ear, would you like to join us? You and Allie, that is."

  "I would like that above all things. If, as you say, she don't put a flea in my ear. Ain't spoke to me all night, never looks at me either. Do you think she's gone off me?"

  Griffin looked genuinely worried and Sir Gordon was compelled to ease the lad's mind. "I do not believe you have noticed it, but my sister can't keep her eyes off you. Women have such a talent for peeking at one without being noticed. They are uncanny, I tell you. Can sense when a man looks away and they dart their little glances, then bam! They turn away before we can catch them."

  Griffin then proceeded to spend the rest of the dinner trying to catch Allie staring at him, and discovered Sir Gordon was right. Never once did he actually catch her out, but several times he swore he nearly did.

  "Lovely girl, that niece of yours. Perhaps I should have her for Rothburn." Lady Rothburn laughed loud and long at the stricken look upon Lady Alana's face, drawing the attention of the other diners, who could not hear her whispered words.

  Yet they could not help but hear her laughter. "Oh, do stop looking so. You must learn when I am kidding or you may take a stick to me some day when I least deserve it."

  The Countess was satisfied to see a tentative smile on the younger woman's face. "Now let us retire and leave the gentle
men to their Port."

  Normally that prerogative would have been Lady Alana's or Allie's, for that matter, but they had become accustomed already to the Countess of Rothburn and her rather unconventional behavior, so they did not demur when she suggested their withdrawal.

  Allie, nervously pleating her napkin, was glad to follow as she had been totally thrown off balance by Griffin's constant darting glances. Her own eyes were compelled in his direction, making her subterfuge of indifference even more difficult as the night wore on.

  The gentlemen rose from their seats as the ladies moved from the room. Rothburn's gaze burned a hole of longing into Lady Alana's exposed nape, sending shivers along her spine that were nothing if not pleasant.

  * * * * *

  "Well, we are nearly done with this escapade." Lady Susan, who planned to put the two young people at one end of the long drawing room while she and Lady Alana kept a vigil at the other end, was in high spirits.

  "Soon, my young lass, you will know your heart and perhaps if you are fortunate, you will know his as well." She winked at the girl, much in the fashion she had done with the aunt earlier, and proceeded to seat herself in the most comfortable chair near the fire.

  Allie, too restless to sit and chat, wandered to the windows, then to the bookcases where she selected a novel she could not concentrate upon.

  Finally, she closed the book and gave over to staring into the fire, calmed by the darting yellow and blue flames.

  Griffin appeared and went to stand by his aunt, as instructed. Wont to snuggle down in her chair and take a nap after a heavy meal and four glasses of Port, the Countess managed to prevail and her nephew escorted her to the drawing room.

  Lady Alana nodded to Allie, who rose and followed with her aunt, pulse pounding in her throat.

  "We shall just leave you two here to get on with your little talk." The Countess looked sternly at Griffin and intoned in a grave melodramatic voice, "The pair of you are not to leave this area. You may get up and move around, of course, but you must stay within our sight at all times."

  With that, she touched Lady Alana's sleeve and the two women departed to the far end of the room to sit by the fire.

  Griffin stared at Allie—fully at her—and Allie stared back. It was the first eye contact they had shared this whole evening and both were jolted by the intensity of feeling that coursed between them.

  Griffin could have sworn Allie had actually looked at him with longing, but he could not be sure as her face had immediately become a mask of indifference. Then she moved to sit at the round study table.

  Griffin took the chair opposite her. He was careful not to let his knees touch hers, lest she take offence and withdraw. Silence stretched between them as Griffin gripped the edge of the mahogany surface and looked at the wall behind her.

  He could not find words open the conversation. Frantic, he tried to order his scattered thoughts, uncertain how to begin. Hoping Allie might speak first, he waited.

  Allie knotted her hands together and placed them atop the table, as she too stared beyond Griffin's broad shoulder at the wall behind him. She would not be the first to speak. She waited.

  The clock on the mantel struck ten o'clock, then the sweep hand moved to five past. Still, neither of them had made a move to open the conversation.

  Allie, grown morose, could hardly hold back tears, and thought of running from the room. She started to rise, a sob crowding her throat. Griffin's hand stole across the table and touched hers. She blinked back the tears poised on her lashes and paused.

  Griffin swallowed hard, as her hand trembled beneath his, evoking a desire to defend her, keep her safe. Reminded of the incident with Beasley, he spoke harshly. "I would have killed the bastard, had I been there. I may still do so." His eyes sought hers with such fierce protectiveness her breath caught in her throat.

  "Oh, never say so, Griffin!" Allie, knowing that he alluded to poor Beasley and knowing that she had used the fellow abominably, could not countenance such a move. "I must tell you what happened."

  She lowered her gaze to her clasped hands. "I haven't told anyone," she began, and lifted her eyes to his with an imploring look, "and you must promise never, never to tell anyone."

  "I do so promise, Allie. I give you my word of honor." Griffin put his hands over her tightly clenched fists. "Pray tell me."

  Allie whispered her confession. "At Lady Beasley's ball, I was spying on Rothburn and my aunt. They went out into the garden and so I asked Beasley to take me out for fresh air. He did not try to kiss me. I thought myself quite safe with him, you see, for he was the perfect gentleman."

  Then he did try to kiss me and when I resisted, he grabbed at me.

  "When he continued his pursuit, I pushed him and he fell into the gooseberry bush—"

  She fixed Griffin with an indefinable look. "He is so much without dash or charm, you know. I really do feel quite sorry for Beasley, for he is not a bad sort. Just not a dasher, if you will. And he so wants to be."

  "Allie, do let me interrupt for just a moment." Griffin squeezed her hands reassuringly and posed his question. "Why did you want to spy upon your aunt and Rothburn?"

  "I thought it was because I wanted to make sure that they were going to make a match and I liked them both so well, that I thought I could help."

  She smiled for the first time and Griffin's heart skipped a beat. "But I guess what I really wanted was to discover that is, I wished to know—"

  She looked at him helplessly, unable to admit her shameful secret, only just realized. Gathering strength from his understanding gaze, she went on in a mere whisper so he leaned closer, ignoring the loud harrumph from the opposite end of the room, followed by a shushing noise.

  "I wanted to know what magic drew them. I could not see them, of course, for I was on the other side of the hedgerow, but I could tell that they were kissing and I—"

  Large tears gathered in her eyes and she could not speak for a moment. Then, "I had never been kissed and I wanted so to know—"

  "Allie, look at me." Griffin interrupted, his voice commanding. "Come now, let me see those lovely eyes." He brushed his knuckles along her jaw line then spread his fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face so their eyes were on a level.

  "I will teach you all you ever need know about love and kissing and the magic between a man and a woman." He smiled at her and his eyes danced with laughter. "If those two would disappear for a few moments, I would begin right now."

  Allie giggled and gulped—laughing and crying were so difficult to do at the same time. The sweet dimple Griffin so loved danced in her cheek and she pressed her face against his hand as he lifted it to caress her creamy skin. "I would that they were gone as well, Griffin."

  She gazed at him, heart in her eyes, and his pulse raced wildly.

  "I would love to kiss that sweet dimple in your cheek, just there," he whispered as his fingers traced the outline of that indentation.

  "And put my lips just there," he traced her swollen lower lip with a fingertip. "Oh Allie, I do love you and I'm so sorry that I went away. I cannot think what came over me."

  "I know just what came over you, Griffin. I read your letter, you know." She reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled forth a crumpled, tear-stained page. "See? I have even kept it."

  "Yes, but whatever did you do to it?" Griffin surveyed the damaged sheet with its curled, burnt edges and a tear nearly through the center. He noticed as well the splotches where her tears had dropped and the ink had run. "Oh well," he sighed, "I guess I shall never write another of these."

  She straightened and withdrew her hands. "Whatever do you mean?"

  "If what I write makes you cry and toss my letters into the fire, it would be wrong of me to write to you." His hands sought hers once again, the letter crushed beneath their embrace.

  "You are going away again, Griffin?" A lump formed in her throat and tears threatened to spill over once more, giving Allie's eyes a very glassy look. She had entir
ely forgotten her aunts instructions on aloofness.

  "Not just yet, but yes, eventually I'll have to return to school." He allowed her to release her hands from his gentle grip and watched her face as she thought over his words. He took one wispy amber curl between his fingers and rubbed the silky stuff, feeling the soft texture and releasing more of the orange blossom scent.

  Once again, he ignored the harrumphing sound from the far end of the room, knowing Lady Alana would not allow his aunt to interfere with them as long as he did not actually try to kiss Allie. As though to prove him right, once again the shushing noise followed.

  "Allie, know that I am here of my own free will. I spoke with your brother. He gave me a choice that, for me, can have but one answer."

  Unable to keep his hands entirely to himself, Griffin began to stroke her smooth cheek once more, his knuckles grazing against the silky skin. He leaned closer and whispered, "What he and Rothburn have suggested is that we marry right away. We could find a small cottage in Cambridge. There are plenty of married students and we have been offered a substantial allowance upon which to live until I finish my studies."

  "Yes," Allie's voice was breathless, but her eyes had become rather insightful as she posed a question. "But what about after you finish school? Don't you need time to establish yourself, as your letter states?" She tapped the dilapidated missive for emphasis.

  "While that is true, I'm sure the family plans to assist us." He drew breath and spoke the words that he knew would hurt her, but he had to be honest. Too much unspoken between them had already caused one rift. "I would prefer to do this on my own, however.

  "It is unseemly for a man to depend upon his brother-in-law for his sustenance. But Allie, were I to ask you to wait all that long time—and I'm not asking, you understand—it would be too hard on you. You are so young and vibrant. You deserve more than mooning about waiting for a penniless fellow to come up to scratch with the blunt. And what if I do not succeed? What then? You'd be left on the shelf."

  "Would I, Griffin?" The young woman had placed her hands beneath her chin and rested her elbows upon the table, her eyes boring into his as she showed that dimple in a small grin. "Would you not find a way, just for me? Am I not worth every ounce of effort you can dredge up?"