My Elusive Countess

by Carolynn Carey

  A moment later, having again instructed his groom to walk the horses, Blackbourne handed Amanda down and opened the door to Madame Sherri’s.

  The shop was empty when they entered, but the modiste hurried from a back room as the tiny bell over the door tinkled merrily.

  “May I help…” Madame Sherri began, then stopped to stare at Amanda. “Why, Miss Stroud. Excuse me, I should say Lady Willowvale. How delightful to see you again.”

  “Good day, Mrs. Baker.” Amanda greeted the woman with an affectionate smile. “I am come to throw myself upon your mercy. As you probably know, I have been residing in the country for some time and I fear my wardrobe is sadly outdated.”

  The modiste clucked solemnly. “Poor child. First losing your husband and then your father, all in two years. Please accept my condolences. And how is little David?”

  “He is well, thank you. I left him in the country with his new tutor, who was hired by David’s guardian, the Marquess of Blackbourne.” She nodded toward Blackbourne. “Are you acquainted with the marquess?”

  Blackbourne inclined his head toward the modiste, who in turn dropped him a quick curtsy. The slight smile on her face seemed to indicate a touch of relief now that Amanda had skillfully provided a valid reason for his having accompanied her today.

  The dressmaker turned back to Amanda. “You were saying, my lady, that your wardrobe needs refurbishing?”

  Amanda grimaced. “Yes, and as quickly as possible, I’m afraid. Lord Blackbourne’s aunt, Lady Cordelia Melbourne, is to sponsor me, and she was to accompany me today but unfortunately was laid low by a severe headache. Lord Blackbourne offered to escort me so that my lack of a suitable wardrobe won’t interfere with Lady Cordelia’s plans for me.”

  The modiste’s smile widened. Obviously the mention of Blackbourne’s aunt had completely allayed any qualms she might have been feeling about Blackbourne’s presence in Amanda’s life. “Rest assured, my lady, that I will help you in any way I can.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Baker. I knew I could count on you. I also need to order a few things for Becky. I assume you still have her measurements.”

  “Of course, my dear. So Miss Thornton is back with you again. I am so pleased. Now, since there is no time to waste, let us get to work.”

  Realizing that the dressmaker would not bother to acknowledge his presence again, Blackbourne lowered his frame into a tiny chair sitting against a wall, stretched his legs out in front of him and prepared to wait for hours while Amanda selected patterns and fabrics.

  Although waiting was not his favorite pastime, he could not but reflect that Amanda had given him plenty to think about to help him while away the time. He was becoming increasingly aware that there was much more to her than he had originally assumed. He doubted any lady in the ton, no matter what her rank, was aware that Madame Sherri was in fact Mrs. Baker, and he was positive that not even a duchess would receive such an affectionate welcome from the dressmaker. Clearly being a merchant’s daughter had its compensations.

  But, he admitted to himself, none of Amanda’s attributes—neither her beauty nor her intelligence nor her unusual background—could wholly account for his attraction to her. He enjoyed being with her. He liked her. He admired her. And his feelings amazed him. After all, she appeared to be everything that Oliver had said she was not and none of the things that Oliver had said she was.

  To continue admiring Amanda, Blackbourne realized, he must be willing to admit that Oliver had misjudged her, which seemed unlikely. After all, Oliver had been her husband. He surely was conversant with his wife’s faults. Or perhaps, as sometimes happened in a marriage, he had merely chosen to magnify them.

  Feeling considerable relief, Blackbourne decided he had at least partially unraveled the mystery. Oliver and Amanda had probably experienced their share of marital difficulties and Oliver had unconsciously recalled her faults as being greater than they were. Smiling to himself, Blackbourne leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and spent the next half hour trying to envision how Amanda would look in the fashionable gowns she would be ordering from Mrs. Baker.

  Chapter Eleven

  Forty-five minutes after she had followed Mrs. Baker into a rear room to examine patterns and fabrics, Amanda stepped back into the front of the shop and glanced around for her escort. He was stretched out in a chair that was too small for his frame. His head lay against the wall behind him and he appeared to be fast asleep.

  Amanda’s breath caught deep in her chest as she stopped to stare at Blackbourne. His dark eyelashes, long and thick, lay against his cheeks. His mouth, which so often appeared on the verge of a sneer, was relaxed, his lips slightly parted. His face in repose reminded her of the sweet innocence of David napping, and she suddenly understood that Blackbourne had a soft core—a core that she very much wanted to explore.

  Aghast at the direction of her thoughts, Amanda gave herself a mental shake. What was wrong with her? After her marriage to David’s father, she had vowed never again to become entangled with a member of the aristocracy. While some women might be able to move from the merchant class into the beau monde successfully, she was convinced she was not one of that number.

  Besides, the Marquess of Blackbourne was a dangerous man. She had recognized that the moment he stepped into her library at the old dower house. Even now, a chill ran down her spine when she thought of him leaning so languidly against the doorframe and staring at her. She’d realized immediately that he was a man who could cause her a great deal of trouble.

  But he was also a kind man, her heart screamed silently. Had he not been patient and considerate with David? Had he not been generous with his time and efforts in attempting to help her attain a place in London society?

  But he was still dangerous, her mind insisted. She had seen the flares of passion that frequently darkened his eyes, indicating that he craved her body, even while he rejected who she was and where she came from.

  Suddenly Blackbourne opened his eyes and looked at Amanda, his lips curving into a genuinely amused smile.

  She took one quick step backward, suppressing a gasp. He had not been asleep at all. He had known she stood staring at him, and he had sat there while she gazed down at his face. She felt a blush creeping up from her neck to suffuse her cheeks, but still she stood frozen in place, unable to look away.

  His face no longer held that look of innocence that had so enthralled her, but Amanda was no less mesmerized by the bulge of muscles she could see playing beneath the sleeves of his form-fitting coat when he placed his palms on the arms of the small chair and straightened from his seated lounge.

  He stood slowly, that lazy, knowing smile still flirting with the corners of his lips. “Finished already, Lady Willowvale? You cannot have ordered more than two gowns in less than an hour’s time.”

  Amanda squared her shoulders and affected a calm manner she was far from feeling. Her face was still warm, but she was determined not to be further discomposed by Blackbourne. “Mrs. Baker is familiar with my tastes,” she said. “We have decided on a total of twelve costumes.”

  Blackbourne’s raised eyebrows expressed both surprise and approval. “You are to be commended. No other lady of my acquaintance could have made so many decisions in fewer than five hours.”

  Amanda felt her lips tightening of their own accord. Blackbourne’s words, however complimentary they might appear on the surface, had been voiced in a tone she could only consider condescending and she glared at him, willing her anger to be written clearly in her eyes. “My father always impressed upon me the futility of taking unnecessary time to make decisions. For a merchant, you know, time can be synonymous with money.”

  For a second, Blackbourne appeared taken aback by the hostility in her tone. His lips thinned, but he recovered quickly. “A wise man, your father,” he said in a moderate tone. “Shall we go?”

  Amanda murmured an affirmative reply and allowed Blackbourne to escort her out of the shop.

 
“Where do you want to go next?” he asked when they were once again seated in the curricle. “The milliner’s? Or do you perhaps wish to shop for gloves or slippers?”

  “I must decline your offer, Lord Blackbourne,” Amanda replied, aware that her tone sounded unusually prim. “You see, Rebecca would be disappointed if I were to continue my shopping without her. She will wish to visit the shops also.”

  “Very well.” Blackbourne lifted the reins. “In that case, you must allow me to take you to Gunter’s for an ice. After all, you have not yet apprised me of David’s and Thomas’ progress—or lack thereof.”

  “Oh my,” Amanda said. She had forgotten Blackbourne wanted a report on his ward’s progress. “Of course I’ll be happy to accompany you and give you a report about David and Thomas.”

  Half an hour later, they were seated at a small table at the very crowded Gunter’s. Amanda’s ice melted in front of her while she struggled to keep from laughing at the expression on Blackbourne’s face. “Then,” she said, continuing her description of Thomas’ teaching methods, “after spending half the morning in the stable constructing a miniature replica of the Spanish Armada, they carried their ships to the pond to launch them. Unfortunately, the ships promptly sank. David, of course, fell into the pond trying to rescue them and Thomas had to jump in and pull him out. Both returned to the house looking like drowned rats.”

  Blackbourne buried his face in his hands. “You would be quite within your rights, my lady, if you took me to task for saddling you with a tutor who appears incapable of teaching a lesson without precipitating a disaster.”

  “But I am delighted with Thomas,” Amanda said, smiling broadly. “He has the ability to elicit David’s natural curiosity and channel it into worthwhile learning. While it’s true that David lost interest in the history lesson Thomas was attempting to teach him, he immediately developed an intense desire to learn about the art of shipbuilding. Soon he and Thomas were combing through all of the books in the library. By that evening, both had considerably increased their knowledge of ships, and the next day they enlisted the assistance of the estate carpenter to help them construct some pond-worthy vessels.”

  “Still,” Blackbourne said, “shipbuilding is not a topic that will be of value to David when he goes away to school.”

  “Perhaps not, but there is plenty of time for him to learn the less enthralling subjects. In the meantime, I am content to know that he is happy.”

  Blackbourne looked at her sharply. “You obviously love your son very much.”

  “Of course.” She gazed into Blackbourne’s eyes, which appeared, strangely enough, to reflect a degree of accusation. “I’m like most mothers, I’m sure, in believing that my son is the sweetest, most handsome and smartest young man ever born.”

  “Do you really feel that way?” Blackbourne asked, his eyes narrowed.

  Amanda inhaled swiftly, then lifted her chin. “If you are inquiring, Lord Blackbourne, as to whether I am distressed because of David’s slightly deformed ear, then I take leave to tell you—”

  “Good god, no,” Blackbourne interrupted. “I wasn’t thinking about his ear. I barely notice it. I was merely wondering—well, not all mothers, you know, seem to have any special preference for their children.”

  Amanda stared at him for a few seconds. “What would make you say that?”

  He shrugged, then smiled. “No reason. No reason at all. Now eat your ice before it melts completely.”

  Amanda cast him one last questioning glance, then picked up her spoon and turned her attention to her treat.

  Blackbourne took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He had instigated this trip to Gunter’s with the intention of furthering a flirtation with Amanda. Instead, he had allowed himself to become sidetracked by her humorous description of David’s and Thomas’ adventures, and then he had steered the conversation into waters he normally avoided. He hadn’t mentioned his mother to anyone in years and he couldn’t imagine why he had brought up the topic of motherhood today.

  He glanced at Amanda, who was delicately spooning her now-watery ice. He should be attempting to charm her. Unfortunately, his thoughts had proved strangely reluctant to move beyond the amazing fact that her love for her child appeared unconditional. He couldn’t help but compare her feelings for David to—

  “Garath? Is that you? Yes, it is. Well met, my friend!”

  Blackbourne jumped to his feet as Anthony and Judith Clemmons approached the table.

  Judith paused at Blackbourne’s side and affected a pout. “For shame, Lord Blackbourne. You have not called on me in at least two days. Is that any way to treat the woman who loves you?”

  “Hush, brat,” Anthony demanded, scowling. “Will you never learn how to behave properly in company? Garath’s guest does not know you and has no doubt already decided you are naught but a hoyden.”

  Blackbourne bowed gallantly over Judith’s hand. “Greetings, minx,” he said, grinning as he straightened. “I fear you are an incorrigible flirt. But you must allow me to introduce you to Lady Willowvale. My lady, I beg permission to present my childhood friends, Judith and Anthony Clemmons.”

  Anthony bowed and politely professed his pleasure at meeting Amanda. Judith grinned unrepentantly and informed Amanda that she must ignore anything her brother or Lord Blackbourne might say about her because both had known her since she was born and thus were unable to appreciate her mature charms.

  “You are absolutely correct, Miss Clemmons,” Amanda said, returning Judith’s grin. “Men who have known one since childhood are invariably biased. Will you and your brother join us?”

  Blackbourne raised his brows as Judith flashed him a mischievous smile. “May we, Lord Blackbourne? It cannot but do your reputation good to be seen in my company. I am considered this year’s Incomparable, you know.”

  Anthony groaned aloud but Blackbourne immediately pulled out a chair for Judith. “Of course you’re the Incomparable, my dear. I could have predicted as much when you were six years old and lacking your two front teeth.”

  “Wretch,” Judith said, smiling as she took her seat. “A gentleman is never supposed to recall such details in public.”

  She immediately turned to Amanda. “I like you already, Lady Willowvale. You do not poker up at my teasing as so many here in town are wont to do. But how is it that we have not met before?”

  “I have just come up from the country,” Amanda explained. “No doubt we shall see more of each other in the future.”

  “I do hope so. Are you an old friend of Lord Blackbourne’s?”

  Anthony heaved a disgruntled sigh and muttered something about inquisitive chits, a remark Judith ignored. She continued to watch Amanda with unalloyed curiosity written large on her expressive face.

  “Lord Blackbourne was a friend of my late husband’s,” Amanda said. “He is also my son’s guardian.”

  “You have a son? How delightful. How old is he?”

  Blackbourne leaned back in his chair and watched as Judith charmed Amanda into telling her all about David. Then, as a result of Judith’s gentle probing, Amanda explained that she had lost her husband and her father within the space of two years.

  “You poor dear.” Judith’s eyes brightened with sympathy. “How you must have suffered. But you still have your son. We can always find something to be thankful for, can we not? I’m so pleased you have come to town. May Mother and I call upon you? Or perhaps I should not ask. I can never remember all of the rules here in London. We were much more informal in the country. Perhaps we should just leave cards—”

  “You must not stand on ceremony with me,” Amanda said. “My companion and I would be delighted to see you whenever you wish to visit.”

  “Mama and I will be at home tomorrow. Will you call on us?”

  Blackbourne decided it was time to intervene. “Do not rush Lady Willowvale, Judith. She has just arrived in town and has only begun to do her shopping. She wishes to refurbish her wardrobe before venturing into s
ociety. Besides, my aunt Cordelia plans to sponsor Lady Willowvale, so I am sure you can expect both to call on you in the next few weeks.”

  “Your aunt Cordelia what?” Judith exclaimed with widened eyes. “Why Garath, your aunt Cordelia— Ouch!”

  Judith instantly quieted, the expression in her eyes flickering from surprise to anger to dismay.

  “We must be going, Judith,” Anthony said, jumping to his feet. “Mother will wonder what has become of us.”

  “But Anthony…” Judith began, then hushed when she saw the scowl on her brother’s face. “You are right, of course,” she said, smiling a bit too brightly. “Mama will be worried. I am so pleased to have met you, Lady Willowvale. We will expect you to call soon.”

  Amanda said her goodbyes and after Anthony and Judith had moved a few feet away, she turned to Blackbourne. “I, too, must be going. Rebecca will wonder what is keeping me so long.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” Blackbourne replied. This day had not gone at all as he had envisioned it and he was not quite sure why. He only knew that he had never behaved more ineptly around a woman in his life.

  Both Blackbourne and Amanda were quiet on the drive back to her town house. He spent a few minutes berating himself for not having taken better advantage of his time alone with her. Then he began wondering what was occupying her mind. She gazed straight ahead and sported a slight frown. He hoped she wasn’t speculating about what Judith Clemmons had been about to say before Anthony kicked her under the table.

  Judith, of course, knew that his aunt Cordelia would never come to another’s aid of her own accord and she had no doubt been prepared to express her disbelief. Blackbourne was thankful that Anthony had intervened before Judith could say too much. The girl was refreshingly honest most of the time but still tended to be a bit green.

  He didn’t speak again until he’d drawn his horses to a halt in front of Amanda’s house. Still gripping the reins, he shifted slightly in his seat to look at her. “When do you expect the bulk of your wardrobe to be delivered?”