The Dowager's Daughter

by Mona Prevel

  Marcus laid his hand on John’s shoulder. “You had to have obtained that piece of intelligence directly from Althea. Truth be told, she did not get married last Saturday.”

  John shrugged free of Marcus’s hand. “She lied to me? I tell you, Marcus, the females of the species are more treacherous than snakes.”

  “No more so than the males, I would venture. You see, poor Althea was left in the lurch at the altar.”

  John was overcome by a wash of pity and outrage over Althea’s plight. “I say, what dastard did that? The bounder should be horsewhipped.”

  “Dastard is a strong word. The groom was her cousin, Philippe de Maligny, a mere minnow up against his barracuda of a grandfather, I fear. He told the marquis that he was in love with the daughter of one of his other grandfather’s neighbors in Bedfordshire—a young lady by the name of Nancy Milford—well dowered and everything, but the old pirate would have none of it.”

  “What possible reason could that dreadful old man have for destroying his grandson’s chance for happiness?”

  “One does not have to be a genius to come up with an answer. Before the revolution, the marquis was rich, powerful—a man of great consequence.” Marcus punctuated each point with a gesture. “Even in his present circumstances, his arrogance defies description. Philippe is in line for a barony, but that does not satisfy the marquis. I believe he would sacrifice his own mother if it would afford him a British earldom for his issue. Need more be said?”

  “How are you privy to such knowledge?”

  “I happened to call at Camberly Hall that very afternoon and Celeste confided in me.”

  “And right away you told me?”

  “Naturally, I presume it will go no further.”

  “I should hope not. You know, Father always drummed into us that three may only keep a secret if two of them happen to be dead.”

  “Now you are being tiresome. As I see it, you were the only person outside of her family who knew about Althea’s wedding. One can only conclude that you were let in on the secret as a means of softening the blow when your suit was rejected.”

  John shrugged Marcus’s hand away from his shoulder. “Kindly refrain from jumping to conclusions, Marcus. It is extremely irritating.”

  “Oh, stop it, John. Your feeble attempt to gammon me is beyond all reason, but I shall overlook it because you are obviously distressed and you are my brother. I would hope that you could confide in me at such a time.”

  Marcus gestured toward an armchair facing the hearth. “Sit down. I shall pour us some brandy and then you may tell me what happened.”

  Marcus’s voice was soothing. John capitulated and sat down as he had suggested. “You will find some very fine cognac over on the table. One of the few advantages of being a smuggler of sorts. I am more than ready for a glass or two.”

  Marcus poured the amber liquid into two large crystal goblets and joined John by the hearth. He handed one of them to him. “Here. A little cognac will benefit both of us, I should imagine.”

  He sat on a matching chair on the other side of the hearth, then raised his glass. “To health and happiness, John.”

  John responded with a hollow laugh.

  “Oh, dear. Is it as bad as all that?”

  “Where would you like to me to begin?”

  “I shall presume that you fell in love with Althea one night by the river on the wrong side of midnight I shall also presume that perhaps a few kisses were exchanged for you to dare to think that she would look favorably on your offer. So why not get to the part where you actually got down on your knees and asked for her hand?”

  “I did not do that—get on my knees, that is, and I asked her twice. The first time was by the river, and we did kiss. Marcus, I will not go into the details—it would not be the thing. Just let me say that the very first time we kissed, something ignited between us. I know she felt it, too. We are so right for each other—there is no other way of putting it”

  “And the second time?”

  “That was on the esplanade, just before I met you at The Boar’s Head last. I cannot for the life of me fathom why I allowed things to get so out of hand. After Belinda’s perfidy I vowed I would never give another woman the opportunity to inflict that sort of damage again.”

  He drank deeply of the cognac. “I do not understand, Marcus. I know Althea loves me and I told her I was well able to take care of her. Even suggested that she come live with me under my roof, but it would not do. Tell me, brother, does not anyone marry for love these days?”

  Marcus smiled. “Love makes a paperscull of the best of men. It was John Soames whom Althea rejected, not John Ridley, and rightly so. As I recall you came to The Boar’s Head that afternoon looking little better than a ragpicker. Really, John, even smugglers have their standards. The poor girl probably thought you were bent on housing her in a fisherman’s cottage.”

  “Where do I go from here? I doubt that Althea is receptive to anyone’s suit after being treated so shamefully. Besides, I shudder to think how she would react if she finds out I have been deceiving her all these months.”

  “First of all, you have to tell her. Play up the fact that it was government policy to keep your identity secret”

  “Then?”

  “Really, John, I thought it was perfectly simple. You tell her—in your own words, of course—that you realize your courtship was a trifle precipitous and you would like to start all over. You know, get to know her better—that sort of thing.”

  John groaned. “God. I think I would far rather face a cage full of lions.”

  Marcus grinned. “So would I, old chap. At no time did I say it would be easy.”

  Althea was sitting in her sewing room, diligently plying her needle to her embroidery. She had not made much progress with the work, having just put the final stitch to the very first rose when her mother entered and said, “There is a gentleman to see you.”

  “Oh? And whom might that be?”

  “I think he had better tell you himself.”

  Althea felt her scalp prickle. “Mama, what sort of mischief are you up to now?”

  “La, child. You wound me. All I ask is that you hear what he has to say and give it your kind consideration. But then, I know you will do that, bless your sweet nature.”

  Althea found these honeyed words downright unsettling. Of one thing she was certain—her mother could not possibly be up to anything good and there was only one way to find out what it was.

  “Very well, Mama, show the gentleman in.”

  Celeste left the room and John entered in her stead. At first, Althea did not recognize the impeccably dressed young man. She was too dazzled by the shine of his top boots and the cut of his fawn-colored coat to take in his features. When her gaze finally locked with his, she rose to her feet, her mouth agape.

  “Mr. Soames?”

  He bowed. “That is a matter I have to clear up.”

  “Yes, I rather think you do, but first, may I offer you some refreshment?”

  “Thank you, no. I have recently partaken of an adequate breakfast”

  “Then pray be seated,” she said, and sank back into her chair.

  All the time Althea was trying to observe the amenities of polite society, she was trying to make sense of the transformation that had taken place in John Soames’s appearance and manner.

  His clothes not only bespoke the rank of a gentleman, they were of a quality that proclaimed his position among the very cream of the ton.

  She supposed smuggling could be that profitable, but seriously doubted it. Then it occurred to her that at one time or another he had discarded the soft cadence of the local yoemanry in favor of the well-modulated tones of a gentleman. John Soames had grievously deceived her.

  A feeling of righteous indignation welled up in her. “It would appear that you have made me the victim of some cruel hoax, sir.”

  “On my honor, Althea, I swear to you that wa
s not my intention. When I embarked on this course of smuggling and intrigue, you were a stranger to me, a name heard mentioned only in passing. Then when I met your mother, I learned more about you.”

  “There, I fear, you have the advantage of me, Mr. Soames.”

  “That is a point I should clear up right away. My name is Ridley, John Ridley. Marcus is my brother.”

  “I see. I am very disappointed to learn that Lord Ridley would indulge in such childish games.”

  “I am sorry you see our endeavors to help our country in that light, my dear. Although I must admit to harboring doubts from time to time as to the value of the services I perform.”

  John leaned forward. “Do you not see? It was necessary that I use another name. Marcus thought it might sway you to my side if I said it was at the insistence of those in government, but that was not the case.”

  “I must admit, Mr. Soames—er, Ridley, I do not see at all. To me, the whole matter is completely mystifying.”

  “On the contrary, Althea, I changed my name for the same reason your mother went into France disguised as a peasant—we both sought to protect our respective families. If one is caught, the enemy may well seek reprisals against one’s relations.”

  Althea found his words disturbing in the extreme. On what sort of merry chase had he led Mama, with his talk of capture and retribution against loved ones?

  “Mr. Ridley, I find it absolutely reprehensible that you encouraged my mother to take such risks.’’

  “Encouraged your mother? Althea, both Marcus and I spent hours trying to talk her out of it. Do you think I relished the extra danger involved in taking a gentlewoman with me to France?”

  “You could have refused.”

  “I did, at first. But she was determined to make the trip with or without me.” He shrugged. “What would you have had me do? Stand by and watch while she hired the scum of the docks, who most assuredly would have murdered her for her gold and cast her body into the sea?”

  “I am indebted to you for taking care of my mother, Mr. Ridley. I know only too well that once she takes the bit between her teeth, she is unstoppable.”

  “Not at all, and please, Althea, call me John. Do not push me away with all that formality.”

  “That is something I prefer to consider at a future date. That privilege was accorded to a Mr. Soames, a gentleman who now appears never to have existed. You, Mr. Ridley, I know not at all.”

  “Ah, but you do. I am the one you kissed by the river. Remember? The moon turned the river to silver, and those kisses turned the blood in our veins to fire.”

  Althea felt her cheeks turn pink. Such intemperate words for an English gentleman to be uttering! And oh, how delicious they sounded!

  Looking as cold and as disapproving as she knew how, she rebuked him. “Mr. Ridley. Please comport yourself as becomes a gentleman, or I shall be prevailed upon to ask you to leave.”

  To her dismay, he did not seem one whit concerned; to the contrary, his expression seemed to be one of high amusement. “I must say, Althea, you do that awfully well.”

  “Do what, pray?” she replied frostily.

  “Play the high-in-the-instep grande dame. Give yourself a few years, and you will be the most formidable lady of the ton.”

  “I must say, for someone who wishes to get in my good graces you have a very peculiar way of going about it.”

  “Not at all. You complained of not knowing me. If I tiptoe around you, kissing the hem of your dress every time I say or do something that makes you blush from the top of your pretty head right down to your toes, you will never get to know me, will you? And I, in turn, shall be denied the pleasure of hearing you call me by my first name with your oh-so-very-seductive voice.”

  Althea laughed in spite of herself. “Sir, I suspect that even you do not believe half of what you say.”

  He leaned forward and gazed intently at her with his clear, gray eyes. “Brava, Althea, that is much better. Without a little lightheartedness to our natures, life would stretch before us one joyless day after another.”

  His words struck a chord. “That is something my mother might have said. Indeed, I do believe she did. Worded a little differently, perhaps, but the meaning was the same.”

  “Without such an oudook on life, I doubt your mother would have come through the horrors she experienced in her youth half so well. She winnowed away the ugliness and sorrow and made her bread out of all that is good in life.”

  Althea thought this over, wondering why this man who had known her mother but briefly had recognized her strength in the face of adversity, whereas she had only seen frivolity. Suddenly, Althea felt very small.

  “I love my mother very much, but until you pointed it out, I did not see her qualities in such heroic terms. I am led to believe that you have a very generous spirit.”

  John made a deprecating gesture. “One does not have to be clairvoyant to see that in your mother’s case, happiness was a deliberate choice.”

  As in yours? Althea pondered. She studied him closely. He was pleasant-looking enough, but most likely she was the only female whose heart beat faster when he smiled. Of a certainty, he did not possess the sort of devastating manly beauty that caused foolish young girls to swoon. On top of that, he no doubt had had to come to terms with being a second son. In other words, all his life he had had to contend with being Marcus Ridley’s younger brother.

  “Happiness a deliberate choice? That is a lovely thought to which I shall give more consideration.”

  “As shall I.”

  She raised a brow. “Do you mean to tell me that you do not practice what you preach?”

  “By and large, but some sorrows in life are very hard to surmount. For instance, when the love of one’s life refuses to marry one.”

  “And who might that be, sir?”

  “I am not sure. You see, John Soames fell in love with a little governess who put him in his place, then stormed out of his life. By George, that slip of a girl carried it off with all the hauteur of a grand duchess.”

  “Mr. Soames fell in love with a figment of his imagination.”

  “Perhaps. But John Ridley is in love with a tender, passionate young lady who is very real. Given time, there is a possibility she might return his love.”

  The humor left his face to be replaced by a desperate earnestness. “All I ask, Althea, is for permission to pay you court. Let us get to know one another and find out what is real and what is not.”

  Althea rose to end the interview. With a look of devastation, he followed suit Althea was touched. His distress looked very real.

  She held out her hand—something she rarely did, and certainly not without others present. “I shall look forward to your next visit—John.”

  He broke into a smile, the expression on his face reminding Althea of the way the sun sometimes pierces the clouds after a sudden summer storm.

  “Let it be tomorrow, Althea. We could ride into Camberly and take a walk on the pier, perhaps stop for refreshments at that little tearoom on the esplanade.”

  “And have tongues wagging from here to Brighton?”

  He shook his head. “Althea, you surprise me. With your regal presence, I did not picture you as the sort of young lady who gave a fig for what other people think.”

  She looked arch. “I believe you have me confused with the older Lady Camberly.”

  “Then you refuse?”

  “Of course not—I was merely pointing out the consequences of such behavior.”

  He bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “You know, Althea, I believe you are more like your mother than you realize. You are only just coming into your own.”

  “My mother is a very formidable lady. The average gentleman would flee from here as fast as his horse could carry him.”

  He grinned. “We Ridleys are made of sterner stuff. I shall be on your doorstep promptly at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon
.”

  Althea watched his horse carry him the length of the approach to the house. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that she realized there was a huge smile pasted on her face.

  Chapter 14

  John arrived at the portals to Camberly Hall, driving a black curricle pulled by a pair of perfectly matched grays. The horses had been groomed until their coats had taken on the sheen of polished marble.

  Before the carriage came to a complete stop, his tiger, Grimes, leaped from his perch in the back ready to settle them. A groom brought from the stables in expectation of John’s arrival came to Grimes’s aid, and each held a horse firmly under control.

  John had climbed only the first three of seven steps when Althea came through the great double doors. The sight of her took his breath away.

  She was clad in a curricle coat in a kerseymere of pale sea green. A dress whose color reminded John of a robin’s egg made a subtle contrast. This ensemble was matched with a silk bonnet of the same sea green, with matching ribbons securing it under her chin. The underside of the brim was fashioned out of a ruched silk, matching the color of her dress.

  She waited for him on the top step. “La, sir,” she called out. “What a handsome pair of grays. They go so well with your carriage.”

  John warmed to her praise, then felt somewhat sheepish that her approval meant so much to him. Especially since it was not completely deserved.

  “Thank you,” he replied, and then bowed to her. “I inherited the grays from my aunt. Fine horseflesh was one of my Uncle John’s few extravagances. The curricle is one of mine.”

  He offered her his arm and led her down the steps. He then handed her into the carriage, a gallantry that required very little effort on his part, for she proved to be extremely nimble. When she was comfortably settled, he climbed next to her on the driver’s seat.

  Once he had the spirited horses well in hand, the groom and the tiger got out of the way, the latter jumping back into position at the rear of the carriage.