The Dowager's Daughter

by Mona Prevel

  After an eventful morning, the brothers found returning to Seacliff something of an anticlimax. After lunch, they read for a while, then Marcus cast aside the book he was reading.

  “Good heavens, John, how do you stand it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This life. I have half a mind to return to London. There is to be a masque taking place at the Vauxhall Gardens later in the week that is supposed to be all the crack. Care to come along?”

  John looked askance. “Thank you, no. I happen to like it here.”

  Later in the afternoon the sun came out, casting a shower of diamonds over the sea. Unable to resist the sparkling water, the brothers discarded their clothes in favor of heavy cotton robes and then leaped from terrace to terrace to the beach like a couple of exuberant schoolboys. Here, they threw off their cotton robes and ran naked into the water.

  “So much for your Vauxhall Gardens,” John called out. “I will race you out to the rock.”

  “Why do you bother? You have yet to win.”

  John laughed. “One day your dissolute life is bound to catch up with you and I intend to be there when it happens.”

  “By then you will be too rusty to move. See you anon, young sprout”

  With that, Marcus sliced through the waves with firm, rhythmic strokes, reaching the rock several yards ahead of John. After expending that first burst of energy, they were content to alternate between riding the waves and basking in the water like seals.

  As Marcus floated on his back, he became so relaxed his eyes closed. John slapped a spray of water into his face. “Wake up, sleepyhead, it is time to go.”

  Marcus gave a start “Good Lord, John, will you ever grow up? Must you persist in playing the aggravating brat?”

  John grinned. “Brings back memories of the good old days, does it not? Only now, Aunt Gertrude is no longer here to give us hot chocolate when we return to the house.”

  “Nothing ever stays the same,” Marcus replied. “Nor should you expect it to. Come on. You are right—we have stayed out here long enough. It’s getting cold.”

  On returning to their chambers, both kept the servants hopping, furnishing them with ever more buckets of hot water as they indulged in long, leisurely baths. Then they went down to dinner, glowing from their afternoon in the sun.

  The cook had prepared a particularly succulent roast of beef served with fresh vegetables from the kitchen garden, but John ate very little. Afterwards, he absently twirled his cognac around the sides of the goblet while gazing morosely into a candle flame.

  Finally, Marcus put down his cigar and thumped the table with his fist. “For goodness’ sake, John, marry the girl and have done with it”

  John scowled. “Go ahead, rub salt in the wound if it gives you pleasure. I would marry her tonight, if she would have me. I even took the trouble to procure a special license lest the occasion should arise.”

  Marcus raised a brow. “Did you indeed? A trifle presumptuous of you, was it not?”

  John felt sheepish. “Picked it up when she agreed to meet with me at the prince’s fete. Had every intention of talking her into a whirlwind courtship. Damned silly of me, eh?”

  “Not at all. Dashed romantic, in fact. As was rushing to her rescue. Knight in shining armor sort of thing. John, old chap, you could not choose a more advantageous time to ask for her hand. Let me tell you what I have in mind …”

  Althea spent the rest of the day moping around her private quarters. The day before, when John had departed without claiming her, she had harbored the faint hope that perhaps he was waiting for a more appropriate time to do so. Today, it had seemed to her that his attitude toward her had been cold and impersonal.

  Why, he scarcely spoke to me. But who can blame him? I am so puffed up with foolish pride.

  When Lizzie came in to help her dress for dinner she waved her away, opting to eat a light supper in her room while waiting for the water to be heated for her bath.

  After Lizzie helped her into the bath, Althea dismissed her, saying she would call when she needed her help. As she soaked in the warm water, her mind quieted and a delicious languor, which she finally recognized as a longing to be held and kissed by John, seeped over her body.

  When you rescued me yesterday, why, oh, why did you not hold me close and refuse to let me go until I promised to marry you? Am I so dreadful—or is love so fickle? Perhaps you never really loved me.

  No longer wishing to dwell on the matter, Althea called for Lizzie. She quietly submitted to having her hair washed, then stood up while Lizzie rinsed her off with fresh water.

  Once Althea was toweled dry, Lizzie selected a nightgown of a fine cotton weave for her, but Althea shook her head. “No, Lizzie, tonight I shall wear the silk with all the lace.”

  “But that was meant for your trousseau.”

  Althea gave her a wry smile. “In the meantime, no one is banging on the door begging for my hand in marriage. It is liable to rot in the chest first. Besides, it can be replaced, you know.”

  “I suppose so. If you don’t mind me saying, you are in a strange mood this evening. There’s a full moon out. Perhaps that’s why.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Lizzie brushed Althea’s hair until it crackled, then went to put a lace cap on her head. Althea refused it.

  “It is too warm for that.”

  “Very well,” Lizzie huffed. “Don’t blame me when all your lovely hair breaks off.”

  Before their conversation could deteriorate further, Celeste walked in. She also was bathed and ready for bed.

  “Finished, Lizzie? Good. Go along with you, my dear, I wish to share the beautiful moon with my little girl.”

  Once Lizzie left, mother and daughter stood in front of the window and stared outside. The moonlight gave the garden a magical, otherworldly look.

  “It is so good to be standing here with you, Mama. For a while there yesterday, I truly thought I would never see the moonlight again.”

  Celeste squeezed her hand and did not let go. “I had similar thoughts. Every time I think of that ogre, Reston, I shudder. I am not in the least bit sorry that he is dead.”

  “Neither am I. The brute absolutely terrified me.”

  “And yet when you stood up to him you seemed absolutely fearless.”

  “I knew that he would do with me as he wished regardless of how I behaved, so I was bound and determined not to let him see me grovel.”

  “You are truly a great lady in every sense of the word, my daughter.”

  Althea smiled. “I must take after you. If you had not kicked that Joubert creature on his derriere, I fear that the outcome might have been different.”

  “No, the credit for saving us has to go to Uncle Jean-Claude. Who would have thought that he could be so selfless?”

  “I think, Mama, that it was a case of your actions reminding him of what is expected of a gentleman. He had just forgotten for a while.”

  “I suppose I resent the fact that he took his time doing it. I would rather you had been spared that terrible ordeal.”

  “He is old. He did what he could. My greatest fear was that I had lost my chance to be a wife and mother.”

  Celeste squeezed her shoulder. “Of course it would be, darling. It is only natural.”

  Althea leaned into her mother. “Mama, if I cannot marry John, I do not wish to be married at all.”

  “I am sure that with a little encouragement on your part he will come around. I caught him looking at you once or twice this morning. He is absolutely besotted with you.”

  “I should hardly think so.”

  Celeste nudged Althea’s arm. “Think again, my doubting Thomasina. Look over there and tell me what you see.”

  “Where?”

  “By the river, of course.”

  “A lantern. I see it. Smugglers, do you think?”

  “One of your Corsair pirates, no doubt. No, my little pea-
goose, only one man I know waves a lantern in that particular fashion.”

  “John! It has to be.” Althea wrinkled her brow. “What do you suppose he wants?”

  Celeste laughed. “Not what. Who. John has come for you!”

  “But it will take ages for me to get dressed—then there is my hair. By the time I reach the river he will be long gone.”

  “Nonsense. I can twist your hair and secure it with some combs. Then all you have to do is cover your nightrail with a cloak, accept his offer of marriage, seal the bargain with a lovely kiss, pop back to the house, and he will be none the wiser. He can return tomorrow to iron out the wedding arrangements.”

  “You are making my head spin.”

  True to her promise, with a few deft movements, Celeste fixed Althea’s hair and handed her a looking glass. “See?” she said. “I told you I could do it”

  “Yes, you did. It looks deceptively fine.”

  She went to her wardrobe and took out a dark blue cloak. Celeste followed her and replaced it with a rose-colored one.

  “Yes,” she said, sounding well pleased with herself. “It looks perfect and so do you, my little cabbage. Now run along—no, wait.”

  She dashed into Althea’s dressing room. Althea heard the clink of glass being moved around and surmised that her mother was fumbling in the dark, looking for something on her dressing table. A moment or two later she emerged, triumphantly waving a bottle of perfume.

  “Found it. A lady should not receive an offer of marriage without wearing an absolutely heavenly scent. Thereafter, when she wears what she considers to be her special perfume, her husband remembers that night and the passion of his youth is rekindled.”

  Althea felt the heat rise to her face. “Mama, must you always be so relendessly French?”

  Celeste tweaked her nose. “Until the day I die, chérie. Now stand still while I dab it on you. Let me see, the ear lobes, your throat, your wrists, the backs of your knees.”

  “The backs of my knees? Is that not a little excessive?”

  Celeste smiled. “I rather expect so. Ah! That magical blend of roses and jasmine suits you perfectly.”

  Celeste enveloped her in an embrace and kissed her on both cheeks. “Now put aside all doubt and fear, my darling, and go to John. With him by your side, you will have a good life.”

  As Althea sped along the garden path, she could feel the gravel through the soles of her slippers. Her cloak flew open and she looked down and saw that the silk of her nigh trail flowed with the rhythm of each step and shimmered like liquid silver in the moonlight.

  Without breaking a step, she pulled the cloak about her, wishing she had not paid attention to her mother’s assurances that John would be none the wiser.

  I should have known better than to listen to Mama. She has no sense of propriety. If I am not careful, John will regard my shocking state of undress with disgust and loathing and go away in that little dory as fast as his arms can row. Perhaps I should turn around. He is bound to come calling in the morning. No. No. I want that lovely kiss Mama spoke of, here and now.

  These thoughts played over and over in Althea’s mind. She was tempted to turn back several times, but the passion that comes with young love overrode her doubts.

  Through a break in the shrubbery, she saw the glow of John’s lantern and, with an extra spurt, she was standing before him, her heart beating as fast as hummingbird wings.

  He put an arm around her and shone the lantern in her face. “Just wanted to make sure it was you and not some faerie creature before I kissed you. I do not want to risk losing you ever again.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What would you have done if I had failed to see your signal? Sailed away never to return?”

  He grinned. “It occurred to me that you might not see my signal. I planned on knocking on your door, but it would have been a complete anticlimax. But enough of that”

  He put the lantern down and enveloped her in both arms and kissed her. It was soft and gentle. To Althea it was welcoming her into a place that was safe and warm, somewhere where she would be loved and cherished. So different from the nightmare world she had glimpsed the day before.

  She entwined her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss of her own accord. John held her closer. She tasted his essence and instinctively knew that no other man’s kisses would taste like John’s. No other man’s kisses would ever suffice.

  Suddenly he scooped her up into his arms and started to carry her toward the riverbank. Althea panicked. This was not the way her mother had said it would be.

  “Stop!” she shrieked. “Put me down. What on earth do you think you are doing?”

  “Taking you aboard The Seafoam, of course.” He stood her on her feet. “This can go no further until we do.”

  Althea straightened her spine. “It was foolish of me to dash out here just because you waved a lamp at me. Even more so for not taking the time to get suitably dressed, but that does not mean that I will allow you to take liberties with my person.”

  His face registered pure surprise. “I never thought it did. It is because of that that I was taking you to The Seafoam. The captain is waiting to marry us. Did I not mention it?”

  “No. And whatever gave you the idea that I would consent to spend my wedding night in such close proximity to the captain and his crew?”

  “Whatever gave you the idea I would want you to? By the time we have exchanged our vows, The Seafoam will have reached my house—I mean, our house. I hope you will consent to share it with me.’’

  How strange. I have always thought that house cried out to be filled with children, but I cannot make it that easy for him.

  “It is kind of you to offer, but I believe another little matter has slipped your mind.”

  His brow knitted. “What might that be?”

  “Just a trifle. You did not ask me to marry you, so you do not even know if I will.”

  “But of course you will. You can do no other—we belong together. I knew that the moment I saw you. I would have married the little governess just as willingly as the difficult countess. Lord knows I haunted that house opposite the pier at every opportunity in the hope that I would see you again. Did you not feel the same way?”

  “I took you for a very impudent rascal. No, that is not exactly true. You were a rascal. Still are, I am thinking. And yes, I probably do have a soft spot in my heart for such creatures. What I appreciated about you is the fact that you could look beyond the outward trappings to see beauty in someone you took to be a very dowdy little governess. But that does not give you the right to presume I will marry you without being given the chance to decide.”

  John reached for her and pulled her close. “Darling, admit it. The minute you rushed into my arms, wearing that revealing nightrail and reeking of what I take to be French perfume, you were saying yes to something.”

  Althea grimaced. “I knew it was a mistake to listen to my mother.”

  “Do not believe that for a moment When it comes to matters of the heart, your mother is the wisest person I know.” He tied the ribbons on her cloak more securely. “So?”

  “So?”

  “Will you marry me?” He nibbled her ear. “I shall do my best to make you very happy.” He trailed butterfly kisses across her eyes. “Very, very happy.”

  She sighed. “Your suit is most persuasive, sir.”

  “May I presume that is a yes?”

  “Oh, yes. A thousand times yes.”

  “Good.”

  And he sealed the bargain with the loveliest of kisses.

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