She closed her eyes and when she opened them, he was gone. Soon, very soon, it would be done and she would be back at Grassmere sinking into its comforting embrace. Her brother would be safe and Lord Savernake would be somewhere else, enjoying what was left of her portion. And she need never see Lord Peter Cerestone again.
Relaxing her fingers, she looked at what he had laid in her hand.
"Oh, my Lord," she whispered.
It was the sapphire necklace Katie had given her, which she had handed over to Lord Savernake. That would mean Lord Cerestone must have followed him, that he might have discovered everything about her brother, and that he truly meant his parting words. Part of her wished he could ride in with sword and lance and win the queen of love and beauty; part of her feared for his life. Now there was even more to worry about.
* * *
With little sleep behind her, Alianora went riding in the park the next morning for her customary meeting with Fanny, hoping that she would not encounter Lord Cerestone. Emerging from the elms, she saw Miss Tavisser and greeted her, expressing the hope that she was completely recovered.
"Why, yes." Miss Tavisser nodded. "A minor thing really. If you'll see to Fanny, my lady, I'll just take Bobbin and Hector over there where they both might run."
Alianora agreed and joined Fanny. The little girl looked as if she might burst. Her brown eyes sparkled.
"I have a surprise! Alianora, watch me!" she insisted and began to push down on the arms of the chair.
Alarmed, Alianora held out her hand but Fanny shook her head, saying she would do it all herself. She then stood, wavered a bit, the white muslin dress settling neatly on the tops of her tiny boots. Concentrating, she took one step, then another. Allanora bit her lip then opened her arms as Fanny reached her.
"What a lovely surprise!" she said lightly, tears starting in her eyes. She touched the soft brown hair.
Fanny looked up at her. "I must also tell you that we are to leave tomorrow."
Alianora stood still.
"Peter will escort us, of course. Mama and Georgy will stay in town to prepare for the wedding.”
“Yes, I had heard she was to wed Buck Rasherly," Alinora said distantly, stricken by the idea that Lord Cerestone would be gone. Had she truly believed that somehow—? Perhaps she had. Now there was no hope at all.
"I must sit down," she said at last and Fanny joined her on the bench.
“Are you sickening for something, Alianora?" Fanny asked in concern. "You do look awfully tired. I know it is not a polite thing to say."
“It is quite all right. And, yes, it is true. I find I do not sleep well in the city."
Fanny considered this. "There are many exciting things to see in the city, but I prefer the country too.” She frowned. "I shall see you again, shall I not?”
"I certainly hope so!” When that might be, she could not say. Fanny bit her lip a moment then spoke quickly. "Shall you not be marrying Peter then?”
It surprised her. "I—I cannot."
"Why? I know he loves you. He tells me ever so many stories about you and about Grassmere.”
"Does he?”
"And I should like most of all to meet your hawk. I have never seen one but in the sky. Does it not hurt to carry it on your wrist?"
"I wear very thick gloves," Alianora told her.
"Do you not love him?” she asked in ambush.
Alianora could not dissemble before the wide brown eyes. "Yes, I do.” It was surprisingly easy to say. A feeling of warmth swept through her not entirely due to the emerging sun.
"Then you must be married”
"How I wish life could be that simple, sweeting. Peter might be able to explain it all to you."
The lower lip quivered. "What you are saying is that I never will see you again.”
Alianora touched the fine-boned cheek. "We shall see one another, that I promise. And to make certain of that, I shall lend you my psaltery until we meet again.”
Fanny reached for the purple velvet-wrapped instrument. "Oh, truly?” Then she sank back. "Oh, but Peter would never allow me to borrow such a fine thing.”
"If he objects, have him speak to me. You may practice all you wish. I shall expect some fine plucking when next we meet."
Fanny looked thoughtful. "But if you were to marry Peter—”
"That is not possible, sweet burde. "
"Is it an evil baron?" Fanny asked anxiously. "Peter has told me just such a story. But he was able to challenge him in combat and pulverize him.”
"Pulverize?" Alianora asked faintly.
"Well, it was all in a story, and perhaps not pulverize precisely, merely run him through.”
"Yes, in stories the hero always defeats the villain, but in real life I'm afraid the endings are not always so neat."
Fanny looked wistful. "I wish they might be."
So do I, thought Alianora. Aloud, she said, "Shall I teach you one more song to take with you?"
"Oh yes, please do."
And the two of them sat for a comfortable half hour until Miss Tavisser said it was time to leave. Alianora rode away from them feeling quite bereft.
Time seemed to pass too quickly and yet not quickly enough, Alianora thought as she answered a cordial note of apology from Jane Finsbury and an invitation to her wedding with the Reverend Andrew Colley. Another couple marrying for love. She sighed. At least she would soon see Percy and see that no harm had come to him. She sighed again. Lord Cerestone was gone now, back to Woodhurst and his history studies. She imagined Fanny dancing like a fairy on the lawn when she recovered. The thought made her smile.
"That man is here again," Mrs. Bowman said with an expansive sniff as she entered the drawing room.
Alianora looked up from the desk. "Thank you, Mrs. Bowman. I shall go below directly."
The older woman's look beneath her lace cap was eloquently disapproving, but she said nothing, having learned that Alianora, for all her quiet ways, was quite stubborn. It did not keep her from watching anxiously out the window as Alianora was handed up into Lord Savernake's curricle.
It was another of his "puff-off" rides, Alianora thought as she sat beside him. He had told her quite frankly that being seen with her improved his credit and his standing with her brother's creditors.
"For if you have no more jewels to pawn or any of the ready then it must be seen that there is potential for future payment," he told her. "Although your brother is still, most unfortunately, in some danger from the bailiffs."
"I have no more to give you," Alianora said with a sigh, watching absently as a small gig passed them.
"The solution then is to be married as soon as possible. With your portion I may settle your brother's debts and continue to live comfortably."
If it were a hundred years from now it would be too soon, Alianora thought as they entered Hyde Park.
"Smile, my dearest," he whispered. "Else people will think me holding you here against your will."
She let the comers of her mouth rise, but her smile did not light her eyes. It was then that she noticed the gig again, noting it for the small driver, a man easily mistaken for a boy but for the withered-apple face. Lord Savernake frowned and told her that that was a bailiff—the man had been following him for several days now.
"As surely as you breathe, he is looking to find your brother."
She shuddered but was distracted by the appearance of Buck Rasherly and Henry Parkington, both of whom slowed their horses and rode alongside the curricle.
Alianora congratulated them on their forthcoming nuptials, feeling that it was balm to her wounded spirit that they had not cut her. Her companion, of course, was not pleased. His smile was filled with the cold contempt of a true Corinthian.
"Quite a surprise," Buck admitted to her. "But then my Georgy has blossomed into the veriest rose."
"Yes, you knew her when you were quite young," she remembered.
"Visited Woodhurst every vacation. Hated our old castle in the north,"
he mused. The mention of Woodhurst sent a pang through her, but she kept smiling.
"Will you then live in London?"
"My dear, without doubt."
She searched her mind for questions, wishing to keep Lord Cerestone's closest friends by her side for just a little while longer.
"And you, Mr. Parkington, will you live on your estate?" she asked.
He nodded, controlling the sudden caracole of his mount admirably. "First, stop off in Ireland."
"To view his new acquisition, that is, not Lady Morfey but her excellent stable," Buck explained a bit awkwardly as if he were a little nervous.
"When do you plan to be married?" she continued.
"End of the summer, I believe. Miss Everhurst must have a big, flashy ceremony so we have engaged St. George's for that time. Parkington, here, will simply jump the broom or whatever the Irish do."
Henry looked affronted. "Fine ceremony. Lots of lace," he objected.
"Over the anvil," Buck supplied.
"That would be appropriate for two horse lovers," Savernake observed nastily.
Everyone ignored him.
"You will come, of course," Buck invited. Henry echoed him.
Alianora looked from one to the other. "I wish that I might; however, I—I'm not certain where I shall be." She wanted to ask of Lord Cerestone, but what could they know? He had been gone only a few days.
"Of course," Buck agreed. He held out his gloved hand, a light of concern in his gray eyes. She seemed unusually melancholy, he observed.
She took it, a little puzzled as something hard was pressed into her palm. Buck tipped his hat with a smile and lifted his chin toward Savernake, then he and Henry rode on.
She glanced into her palm held down by the side of the curricle. A Roman coin. The Roman coin. The one the viscount and Buck passed back and forth after their war of wits. What did its appearance mean? What could it mean? Was it a final token of Lord Cerestone's esteem or a sign of hope? She tucked it inside her glove, hoping that the viscount would do nothing foolish.
"Now that we are rid of the Walking Stick and the Obtuse Horseman—"
"You will not speak of them except with respect for they are my friends," she told him fiercely.
"Ah, now. I only wish I might inspire such fervor. No matter. One finds passion where one might." He leaned a little closer. "I have procured a special license, my dear. The sooner we marry, the sooner your brother may move freely again. Today," he suggested.
"No!" she insisted then moderated it. "I must see Percy first."
His lips thinned. "You endanger him with your delay. Have you heard nothing of the miseries of Newgate? Perhaps it is time someone enumerated them for you." He truly did not need to exaggerate to overset her, telling of those forgotten in dank cells who had only rats for friends, who could not afford to bribe guards for a minimum of human comforts including food that went beyond a tasteless gruel; one acquired wretched diseases, the teeth would loosen and fall out . . .
"Stop!" she cried softly. "I—I won't let him go there, you may be sure."
"I am the one to help you save him without doubt. If you still insist on seeing Percy, we must make plans to escape the notice of our dunning friend."
She knew of whom he spoke: the small man in the gig. He then went on to tell her of his strategy, mentioning closed carriages and dominoes and the dark of night then suddenly cried "Ah!" with satisfaction. "There is our fellow conspiratress now."
He drove the curricle to the inner side of the tanbark and stopped. There strolled Miss Cressida Finsbury, a picture of demure femininity, with her maid.
"Miss Cressida," he greeted.
She gave him a coy smile from beneath the poke of her bonnet.
"Lord Savernake, a surprise and a pleasure," she said. "And Lady Alianora," she added as if it were not.
"We have been speaking of the Blackworth masque," he told her.
"Oh yes. I am quite looking forward to it."
"You will be 'round to fetch Lady Alianora at ten. I believe that was the time agreed upon."
"Yes, ten," she agreed.
"My men and I shall distract any followers as you go to the masque. Do not worry if you hear shots."
Cressida laughed. "Such a lark! You are quite an intrigant, my lord."
He smiled at that and bowed. "Until then." He flicked the ribbons. "Such an unusual girl, quite prepared to do anything to get what she desires, even Lord Cerestone."
She winced a little at that but now understood Cressida's interest. By helping Lord Savernake elope with Alianora, she would eliminate a rival for the viscount’s affection. Cressida and Lord Savernake had certainly been whispering together during the ball at Hurst House, she remembered. Then she wondered—Lord Cerestone could never marry Cressida, could he? Even her own sister Jane thought it a miserable match. He had been so angry and hurt—could he turn to someone like Cressida for support? The thought made her ache. No one noticed that Buck and Henry managed to stay within earshot.
"Of course, you will dress appropriately: a costume, a black domino that I will have sent 'round to you. You should really take a cue from Miss Finsbury, my dear love, and endeavor to please me more."
She looked up at him, her dark blue eyes ice cold. She was becoming rather weary of his managing hand. Perhaps she was marrying him to save her brother, and spare her father from scandal, but she no longer thought she would be such a biddable wife.
"After all, I am quite a catch," he continued with a smile for her that bordered on contempt. "You shall be the envy of many women and that should please you."
What would please her, she thought, grinding her teeth, would be the sight of a long hat pin stuck in the thigh that he pressed against her. And she'd not regret doing it for a moment this time.
Buck lifted his quizzing glass as Alianora and Savernake drove out of the park, fingering the crushed pearl design of the handle. He tapped the glass against his cheek in thought, thinking about what he had overheard.
"Something is afoot," he decided. "What say you?" "More like something is a-curricle," Henry commented.
"Why, dear boy, how clever," Buck observed absently. He nodded to the small man in a gig as he drove past and out the gate. "Mr. Carnaby will discover it if anyone might."
"Strange man," Henry pronounced.
"But persistent. He is on Savernake like a terrier. We'll keep her safe until friend Cerestone's return. By the by, dear boy, had you heard Cerestone's latest plan? It'll put you in St. Bart's. Pure romantic folly—" He proceeded to explain and had Henry guffawing so loudly that horses on the other side of Rotten Row shied from the noise. Parkington choked, wiping his eyes.
"Armour! Wish I might see it!" he said fervently.
"We must be content with only the report," Buck sighed and they proceeded out the gate.
Alianora arrived home to discover that the worst possible thing had happened. "William!" she greeted blankly, her mind in a whirl.
He kissed her cheek. "Alianora. You do look rather wan, as Katie has been telling me."
Katie stood, laid her hand on her husband's arm and looked directly at Alianora.
"It is the city, as I also said, my love, nothing more," she told him.
Alianora relaxed a little and sat down, removing her bonnet. William could not have seen her arrive with Lord Savernake or he would have said something immediately. William was not a subtle man.
"Did you—did you have a pleasant journey in the north?" she asked.
"Pleasant enough, but it was to be no vacation, purely business. Brought in some new tenants, ousted a few lazy fellows, bought some new animals—all quite normal estate business." He looked down at her. "Have you enjoyed your stay in town at all?"
"In some ways," she answered carefully.
"Well, no, I wouldn't expect you to take to the city but then new experiences have the potential for good." he mused. "But I had hoped you might make some friends, perhaps discover an interesting young man."
&
nbsp; No, he was not truly subtle. She smiled at him. "There are any number of interesting young men in town."
"Any in particular?"
"William!" Katie scolded with a smile.
"All right, yes, cease the inquisition, I know, my love. Not even a word about that Savernake fellow since you have ceased to see him. I was wondering, however, about our brother. Have you heard aught from him, Alianora? He was gone from his rooms."
"He did come to visit once," she said, thinking it was safe to admit that.
"He did?" Katie asked in surprise.
"In the afternoon while you were lying down," Alianora told her.
"What had he to say?" William asked. "I know he's been hanging about with that Captain Sharp Savernake. I fully expected to find Percy in the suds when I arrived. Did he come to ask for money?"
"No, he did not ask for money," she answered truthfully. She had given it to him without his asking.
"Did he say where he'd gone to?"
"I believe to a fight or race just outside town."
William nodded. "To be expected, although one might believe he left town to escape the duns. I wish I might know the extent of his debts so that they could be settled before he returns to school."
"I thought you told him you would not advance another penny and would be happy to see him languish in prison," Alianora accused. Those had been his words at Grassmere.
"Ah, said merely to put the wrath of God in him."
"Rather, the wrath of William," said his loving wife.
Alianora was stunned. "Then you would never allow him to go to prison?"
"Do you think me such an ogre?" He was astonished.
Well, yes, she did, at least she had thought so.
"He should be made to suffer for his follies—but debtor's prison? Never! After all, a young boy must sow his oats."
"No matter the amount of debts?" Alianora was still amazed.
He frowned. "You have heard something."
"No, not specifically, not precisely, that is." She was babbling and stopped herself before she gave it all away. Percy, Savernake, the marriage . . .
Maid of Honor Page 15
