He drew closer. “I am honored to escort such a graceful lady. And proud too, to be seen in your company. My brother must be mad!”
Alaina had to set him straight. “Things have changed a bit. Richard and I have...” Have what? “...have come to an understanding.”
But still, there could be no doubt that Nigel was inching closer to her.
Really, these Cransworth brothers are too much. Imagine hitting on your own sister-in-law. How much longer could she wait until she asked to return home?
Squirming in her chair, she spotted two boisterous couples making their way to the booth. The men had their arms around their companions and thought nothing of touching the women intimately on the bosom.
Whoa. Here's where I get off. About to suggest they leave, she was interrupted by one of the men.
“Pretty little wench you have there, Cransworth. How ‘bout if we swap and you take Mabel here?”
Nigel glowered at the man. “Slader, you're foxed. Don't make me have to call you out.”
“George Slader?” Alaina asked.
Nigel nodded.
Oh, great. Her first night out and there was talk of a duel. No, thank you. Lucy had told her about George Slader's reputation. He was a living legend with a gun.
Standing, she said loudly, “We were just leaving.” Under her breath, she whispered, “Let's go, Nigel. We don't want any trouble.”
He also stood, uncertain of what to do next.
“You are a just a cub, Cransworth,” the older man barked. He then lurched forward and pulled on Alaina's arm. “Come with me, sweetie. I'll show you what a man can do!”
Yanking her arm away, she spoke in a deliberate tone. “Leave me alone. I'm not interested.” She made a motion to Nigel to keep his distance.
George Slader laughed harshly. “Begad, a doxy with spirit! You will be mine tonight, darlin'” He grabbed her about the waist and leaned over to place his intoxicated lips on hers.
Heart pounding, she waited until he was in optimum range, then flung her hand out as far as it would go, giving him a karate chop against the neck. When he reeled back in surprise and pain, she gave a finishing kick to his knees. The man would now think twice about bothering women.
Hurrying over to Nigel, she pulled him with her, setting a pace as fast as their legs would carry them. George Slader's companions were left to pick up his slumped figure.
In the safety of the carriage, Nigel exclaimed on how she trounced the beggar. “That was a move as smooth as any at Gentleman Jackson's on Bond Street. Where the devil did you learn it?”
Alaina sank back in the cushions. “Just something I picked up from television,” she uttered wearily. From under half closed lids, she saw his puzzled expression.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Surprisingly enough, Richard didn't comment on Alaina's trip to Vauxhall Gardens. In fact, she hardly saw him at all, which made her wonder all the more about his unusual behavior in the Library. So when Charlie and Lucy returned from Paris, Alaina welcomed their return with open arms.
The couple's arrival threw the household in an uproar. Running down the marble staircase, Alaina eagerly looked for her friend, but instead saw box upon box containing the latest in French designer fashions filling the Cransworth entranceway.
“Higgins!” she called out over the din of footmen and messenger boys. “Where's Mrs. Cransworth?"
Higgins made his stately bow. Quite a feat, actually, with the circus around him. “Milady, Mrs. Cransworth was fatigued from her travel and has retired to her room for a rest.”
“Thank you, Higgins.” Alaina turned to go. Darn. Now she'd have to wait until dinner time to see Lucy.
“Indeed, Milady,” the butler called up to her, “if you are wondering, the Honorable Mr. Cransworth is conferring with His Lordship in the Library."
Alaina nodded, then returned to her bedroom. She tapped her chin, thinking furiously. Now just what were those brothers conferring about?
~*~
As Alaina and all the Cransworths entered the Dining Room, everyone seemed in good spirits for the big reunion. The Dowager looked fit and healthy, and she positively beamed at her middle son and his wife. Charlie and Lucy were happy to receive the attention. But every so often they'd gaze at each other and smile as if they shared a special secret.
The family members found their places at the table, and as Charlie and Lucy regaled them with tales of their Parisian adventures, everyone sat, spellbound.
“To top it off,” Charlie continued, looking as if he could no longer contain himself, “Lucinda haunted every mantua-maker she could find. She now has a wardrobe that will be the envy of every woman in Polite Society!”
Lucy actually giggled.
“But the devil of it is,” he added, “she won't be able to wear those gowns for long.”
“Charles!” Lucy warned, turning red with embarrassment.
That could only mean one thing. Alaina glanced at Richard and saw he was smiling. He caught her gaze and the smile intensified.
Wow. She gulped down hard. Looking away in confusion, she then turned to Lucy. “This is so great. Congratulations! When's the baby due?”
Lucy, Nigel, and Isabel fought for who could claim the deepest blush. Oh, big faux pas. How could Alaina have forgotten that talking about such a delicate matter was simply not done.
“Charles.” Lucy scolded her husband again.
“It's okay to talk about the baby, Lucy. Honest. Tell us!” Alaina tried to coax the mother-to-be.
“I am so thrilled,” trilled Lady Wilhelmina. She fanned herself with a napkin. “This is wonderful news, Lucinda. I cannot wait to become a grandmother again.”
“But the men,” protested Lucy.
“Richard knows all about this kind of thing, Lucy. And Nigel, why he's a man of the world now,” Charlie assured his wife.
Nigel gulped nervously and agreed. For a second, Alaina was reminded of Roger Farnsley's bobbing Adam's apple.
The restraints for this topic of conversation set aside, Lucy launched into the details. “Our ‘interesting event’ should arrive by the end of the year. We are so excited!” She looked to Charlie for confirmation and he smiled indulgently at his wife.
Then she suddenly grew alarmed. “Oh no! I forgot, I am not supposed to eat.” She stared at her recently emptied plate.
“What do you mean, you're not supposed to eat?” Alaina questioned.
“The doctor I saw in Paris said I am only to eat bread and water.”
“Why, that's ridiculous! Nothing could be worse for you. Or the baby. You have to find a good doctor here in town. Everyone knows proper nutrition is important.”
Richard watched his would-be wife with interest. It was evident she felt strongly on the subject. He hoped to learn more about the stranger at his table. But in the meantime, Lucinda's eyes filled up with tears.
Charles could not remain quiet. “But the French doctor came very highly recommended. He is one of the best. He even said he would journey to London at the time of Lucy's confinement.”
The enchanting stranger knitted her brow, as if a small fact were teasing her mind. “Wait a minute, there's something I have to remember.” For a moment she seemed lost in thought. “I have it! Don't you recall Princess Charlotte's physician, Sir Richard Croft, prescribed the same diet? And also prescribed bleeding. Look what happened there.”
Since both the baby and the princess mother died after a torturously long labor, Lucinda started to sniff audibly.
The stranger winced. She must have realized she had frightened Lucinda. “Don't worry, Lucy. We'll find you the right doctor. And you'll be able to eat your meals along with us.”
These words seemed to calm her. “I must admit, you do make sense, Alicia. Living on bread the entire time! Why I'd be down to nothing!” Lucinda smiled. “And besides, you had a healthy boy. Who was your physician?”
Biting her lip, the stranger looked down the table at Richard. How would she answer tha
t question? Memory loss again? “Such a long time ago. I forget. Do you remember his name, Richard?”
He hid his chuckle. How could she remember the name of the royal physician, yet forget the name of their own country doctor? Especially after the difficult delivery? This was another fact confirming her as an impostor.
“I believe it was Doctor Yates,” he replied.
“Would you recommend him then? Do you feel he is competent, Alicia?” Lucinda asked.
Richard choked on Lucinda's question. Charles and his mother also coughed into their napkins. The three of them vividly remembered the agony of Alicia's screams and her subsequent charge that Doctor Yates caused her unnecessary scarring. Who could have forgotten?
Richard waited expectantly for the woman's response. She paused, unaware his attention.
“Doctor Yates,” she said quietly, obviously stalling for time. “Doctor Yates, yes! He saw me when I was, um, ill last December.” For some reason, she blushed. “I mean, no, Lucy. I think you should see a London physician. Doctor Yates isn't a specialist.”
The woman's reply was noncommittal. She showed that she knew the doctor, but did not commit any further blunders. The only solid piece of evidence he had against the woman was that she had forgotten the doctor's name.
Interesting, very interesting.
Charles agreed that they should seek another man in the medical profession. The tension in the air now lifted, and the ladies adjourned to the Drawing Room,
~*~
Counting the days until Ian Bogg's talk on the altar of Romulus and Remus, Alaina kept a low profile. Finally, the morning of the May Dilettani Society meeting arrived, but Alaina quickly put it out of her mind when Dana came rushing into the bedroom.
“Oh, Milady, somethin’ terrible has happened.” The maid stood in front of Alaina, wringing her hands and nervously bobbing to and fro.
“Tell me about it, Dana."
“'Tis Master Terrence, Your Ladyship. Miss Kerns, his governess, says he feels as hot as blazes. He's a-layin’ there ... unconsh ... well, he won't wake up.”
Alaina threw on her dressing gown and ran over to Terry's room. As she entered, Miss Kerns hurriedly stood and curtsied.
Dear Terry lay motionless on the bed. A touch to his forehead confirmed the presence of a raging fever.
Alaina took a steadying breath. “Okay, Dana. Tell Higgins to send for a doctor.” She then wet a cloth and wiped Terry's heated face. It was the only treatment she could think of to ease the child's discomfort.
Soon Isabel, Lady Wilhelmina, and Lucy came in to see what they could do. What little reassurance Alaina could give, she dispensed freely, but then escorted the Dowager and Lucy out of the sickroom.
Alaina was firm about it. After all, what if Terry's condition was contagious? Lucy needed to be especially careful. And after Lady Wilhelmina's close call, she also needed to exercise care.
“Isabel and I will wait for the doctor. We'll take turns bathing Terry to keep the fever down. Try not to worry.”
Not worrying was, of course, impossible. But seeing wisdom in Alaina's words, the Dowager and her daughter-in-law left to hold their vigil downstairs in the Blue Salon.
Alaina tried to inform Richard of his son's illness but the usually impassive Higgins apologetically related to her that His Lordship was still gone from the previous night.
The previous night? Alaina was taken aback for a second. Where had he spent the night? And with whom?
Get a grip, kiddo. That wasn't important now. She shrugged aside her feelings and sent messengers to every place she could think of to try to run the man down. Richard was certain to be present at the Dilettani Society meeting, but that was later in the day.
A high fever could be extremely serious, even fatal. Especially since antibiotics and such hadn't been invented yet.
Alaina put another cool cloth on Terry's forehead and tried to be brave. Richard needed to know his son was in critical condition. He needed to pray.
She blinked back a tear. Richard. Rick, where are you?
~*~
“You are sure my coming to dinner won't throw your household in disorder, Saybrooke? ‘Tis nigh on eight now. Devilish little time to change the place settings. Bound to set everyone in an uproar.” Ian Boggs pulled on his mustache, and smoothed down his hair.
Inside the phaeton, Richard reassured his guest. “Cook is a gem and Higgins can handle any disaster I throw his way.”
In a low chuckle, he added, “Stole him away from Lord Kincaid, you know. I took great pleasure in doing so.” Richard grimaced, remembering how the Viscount had followed Alicia around like a dog after a bone, before her exile to Saybrooke Hall.
“Not pleased at being likened to a disaster, old chap. But I'll let it pass. Demmed odd, though, about your wife not appearing for my talk. I say, I counted on seeing Alaina's lovely face in the audience.”
“Doubtless something else came up. Do not fret over it.” Richard also thought it peculiar that she did not attend. It seemed she had talked about nothing else since the last Dilettani gathering. Perhaps her interest was an act, after all.
He did not correct his friend concerning his wife's true name. He himself was beginning to think of the stranger as “Alaina.”
The carriage pulled up in front of the Hanover Square townhouse. They both alighted and were admitted in. Before they could shrug off their outer raiment, an angry female accosted them in the entranceway.
“You took your own sweet time returning. Here, we are, sick with worry about him and you do not even bother to put in an appearance. We sent messengers all over London to track you down. I thought you cared about him! I used to be in awe of you but no longer. Earl, indeed! Hah!” The woman flounced away and headed back up the stairs.
Richard exchanged a puzzled look with his guest. “What the devil is going on here?”
Before Higgins could reply, Mr. Boggs asked, “Who was that avenging Fury? What fire! What spark!"
“Cousin Isabel. Meek, mild-mannered Cousin Isabel,” Richard replied distractedly.
“Begging Your Lordship's pardon.” The butler cleared his throat. “'Tis the young master. He is gravely ill.”
Without another word, Richard flew up the marble staircase, taking two steps at a time. He entered Terrence's bedchamber to find an exhausted-looking Alaina bending over his son. A hands-on-the-hips Isabel watched him approach the bed.
“How is he?” Richard gingerly touched his son's hair, afraid any movement would upset the boy.
“Mama,” Terrence murmured in the throes of sleep.
“Shhh, it's okay, Terry,” the stranger, Alaina, soothed. She then turned to Richard. “He's much cooler. We think the fever's broken.”
“No thanks to you,” Isabel accused Richard.
“Did you send for a doctor. What did he say?” Terrence's pale color struck terror at Richard's heart.
Alaina dipped a cloth in water and dabbed at his son's forehead. “He was no help. He wanted to put ... leeches ... on the boy. To bleed him.” She shivered with obvious disgust.
“We had to physically remove the doctor from the room,” Isabel snorted. “Alicia has had her hands full.” Her eyes sent dagger-darts through Richard.
Alaina gave her defender a weak smile. “That's enough, Isabel. The worst is over with, I think. Why don't you grab a bite to eat? Richard and I need to talk.”
The “timid” Isabel said a loud “Harumph!” and stalked out of the room. Alaina motioned Richard to a corner of the room where she sat to rest her feet. “He's asleep now. He awakened a short while ago and recognized Isabel and me. That's a good sign. He asked for you, too.”
He took her cold hands in his. They were shriveled from being in water all day. “My dear, I did not get the message. I would have returned the moment I had the news. To think he could have....”
Closing his eyes, he thanked the Lord for His mercy. Thank the Lord she knew enough to bath Terrence in cold water to reduce his fever. And
thank the Lord his son had been in danger less than a day. But what a day it must have been. The burden of worry sat as heavily on her slim shoulders as a two-ton iron collar.
She stood up, slightly swaying. “I think I'll get something to eat too.”
Alaina made it halfway to the door. As she passed out, he caught her. He carried her to her bedchamber and laid her gently on the bed, smoothing the hair out of her eyes. Signaling for her maid, he gave his new wife and his new love a tender kiss before he left to watch over his son.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Taking tea in the Blue Salon, Lady Wilhelmina insisted Alaina attend the Marchioness of Ravenwood's upcoming ball. “Poor Denise somehow feels responsible for my becoming ill at her rout this past March.” The Dowager fluttered her handkerchief in the air. “Nonsense, of course. But all the same she and the Marquess are holding a grand ball for me—to celebrate my return to health. So, you see, you must be there!”
While she took a sip from her fragile tea cup, Lady Wilhelmina fingered a pearl pendant and surveyed the newest addition to the Blue Salon: a carved, mahogany teapoy, resting on cabriole splay legs.
“Such a handsome piece, don't you think, my dear?” she queried.
Alaina also eyed the teapoy: a piece of furniture that contained equipment for making tea. She retrieved the enamel teapot and refilled the Dowager's cup. Since the style of this small table was very ornate, and a trifle on the Gothic side, she kept her thoughts to herself. Lady Rococo and Grandma Gothic she certainly wasn't!
“But, back to the point,” the older woman continued. “I can think of numerous reasons why you must break your fast from bon ton encounters. Lucinda, dear girl, is a shade hesitant to appear in public. In her condition. Not that anyone can tell, goodness knows! Having you attend with us would give her the extra self-confidence she requires. Since you took a hand in her improvement last December, I cannot tell you how that child has blossomed.”
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