A Question for Harry (6 page)

A life of her own
. A husband. Ramsay.

Fiona flicked a glance up and down Lord
Ramsay’s lanky height. He was everything she had been looking for in a husband, but was he unique? Wouldn’t another do just as well? Lord Temple, perhaps?

Shaking her head, she pushed the traitorous thought away
. No, she had chosen Ramsay for precisely the person he was and everything he would be in a husband.

To think otherwise would be to admit she had been impulsive.

Fiona sighed.

“Is there another?”

“Hmm? What?” Fiona asked in confusion.

“You said that your family would see that there isn’t another you wish to wed,” Ramsay said
. “Are you encouraging other gentlemen? Allowing them court you?”

There was something chilling in his tone, something that hinted at possessiveness that set Fiona’s teeth on edge
. “It is not yet your business what I encourage or allow, Donovan Ramsay,” Fiona scolded, beginning as she meant to go on. “But I will say this, I am allowing my brother his wishes in this matter to prove to him that I know my own mind. You are my choice. If you wish to remain so, I suggest that you, too, allow him this time to be as assured as I.”

“Then you will not elope with me?”

“No, Lord Ramsay, I am not prepared to so blatantly disregard my family nor will I run away like some shameless hussy,” Fiona told him firmly. “What I am prepared to do is wait them out.”

Ramsay tensed as if preparing for battle before visibly relaxing
. “Then I suppose I have no choice but to wait with you.”

“You may call on me tomorrow
and we will talk more.”

“And have your supercilious butler deny me entrance as he did
tonight?” Ramsay scoffed. “It is an embarrassment to be left standing on the stoop. Meet me in the park instead.”

“Very well,” she conceded
. It was just as well. Even if she were actually at home, she didn’t know if Hobbes would admit him, even begrudgingly. She would have to speak with him. “I will.”

“Then I will see you in the morning
.” Ramsay leaned in, not for the kiss he had tried to claim before but simply brushing his lips against her cheek, his mustache tickling her tender skin. “Dream of me?”

Fiona swallowed
. “Of course.”

Chapter
Five

From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – May 1895

I keep telling myself that I don’t care. I won’t care. I can’t care.

And I don’t!

But I cannot help wondering – as a completely impersonal observation, of course – at the change that has come over
Har
Lord Aylesbury. Whatever else I might have to say about him, Aylesbury was unfailingly polite … in society, at least. More than that, he was always unswervingly good natured and humorous. I rarely saw him that there wasn’t laughter in his eyes and on his lips.

Tonight there was none of that in his demeanor
. Nothing in his eyes but misery. What has changed him so?

No
! I won’t care. Not again.

Instead, I shall continue to play Francis’ game
. I will keep company with Lord Temple (though I shall do nothing to encourage him beyond friendship as I have no desire to hurt him.)  I know only too well what that feels like.

But who is she?

The Glenrothes Townhouse

117 Eaton Square

Belgravia, London, England

The next morning

“So then you did keep the letter back from Lord Ramsay?”

Hobbes looked studiously over Fiona’s head and she sighed
. “It hurts my feelings that you would sneak about behind my back, Hobbes. I thought you rather liked me.”

The butler met her eyes briefly before they drifted back over her shoulder
as he handed her her hat. “I did refrain from forwarding your withdrawal from the Ladies’ Open as well, my lady.”

Fiona arched a brow
as she turned to a nearby wall mirror and settled the hat on her head, pinning it securely. “So I should thank you then for muddling about in my affairs?”

“I
never
muddle, my lady.”  A muscle twitched in his cheek that might have been a grimace or a smile as he held out her gloves. One never knew with old Hobbes.

Was he old, she wondered
idly as she drew on her gloves? It was hard to tell. The planes of his cheeks were papery but taut but then Hobbes was far too stiff and starchy to allow a wrinkle to show anywhere, even upon his person.

Still, r
egardless of his demeanor, Fiona was inexplicitly fond of the man and wished for nothing more than his good regard in return. “I know you will do as you wish, Hobbes, but if Lord Ramsay does call, I hope you will at least do me the courtesy of deciding whether I’m in or not before you dismiss him.”

“I would never be so foolish
, my lady,” he said, holding out her parasol.

Foolish enough to let her decide
for herself or dismiss Ramsay?

“
Where are you off to, Fiona?”

Fiona took the
parasol and turned with a smile as one of her many sisters-in-law, Ilona, tripped gaily down the main stairs and joined her in the front hall. “I was about to take a walk over to the park for a bit.”

Unlike the townhouse her brother had previously owned in Cavendish Square
, which was miles away from anything of note in London, this one in Eaton Square was just a half-mile off Hyde Park. The proximity allowed for Fiona to partake in her own amusements – or keep a clandestine rendezvous, as it were – without having to continually call up a carriage.

“Oh
! That sounds lovely. Do you mind if I join you?”

Despite her promise to meet Lord Ramsay in the park, Fiona assured Ilona that she didn’t mind at all
. Hobbes sent a maid to fetch a hat, gloves and parasol for Ilona while they waited near the door.

“
Are you sure you don’t mind? I know I’m likely to slow you down.”

“Not at all
! You know I love your company and we haven’t had a moment alone since coming to town,” Fiona told her. “Besides, a brisk walk might be had anytime but a quiet stroll with you is a rare treat.”

Besides, it was almost impossible to be in a gloomy mood when Ilona was about
. The sunshine yellow of her silk morning gown was an outward reflection of her ever sunny disposition.

The maid returned and Hobbes passed the items along to Ilona, one at a time before opening the door for them
. “Mind the sun, my lady,” he said to Fiona, then nodded to Ilona. “Madam.”

The door shut behind them and Ilona cast a wicked smile her way
. “He really does care, doesn’t he?”

Fiona shook her head
. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“Well, I think h
e’s positively doting,” Ilona said as they linked arms and set out toward the park. Despite the wide brim of the hat that shaded her face, Ilona kept her lace parasol held high while Fiona swung her fetching parasol by her side. She rarely used them in the manner for which they were intended, but where she usually eschewed overly feminine frills in her gowns, Fiona had a weakness for lavish accessories.

Although
her robin’s egg blue walking suit and white blouse were only sparingly detailed with silver metallic embroidery at the cuff, hem and wide waistband, her matching leather boots and gloves were heavily detailed with the embroidery as well as glass beads, pearl buttons and silver cording. Her parasol reflected more of the same. The satin dome covered with beads and embroidery while the edges cascaded with white Chantilly.

Still if she hadn’t adored simply carrying it, she would have done so anyway just to make Hobbes happy
. Why did she bother when he seemed to make no effort to do the same? “He treats me like a child just as the other lads do.”

Ilona shook her head merrily
, twirling her parasol as they walked. “He treats you like a daughter,” she corrected. “Oh! What a delightfully glorious morning for a walk in the park! Don’t you agree, Fiona?” Ilona asked with a gusty sigh. “Though I suppose you would rather be riding.”

“If I were to ride, I would rather be at Glen Cairn galloping across highlands, hatless
… and corsetless,” Fiona told her.

“
I would as well, but still it is a surprisingly nice day.”

There was a stubborn persistence in her tone that Fiona knew well
, as Ilona was always adamant on seeing the best of every situation and insisting that others join in her eternal optimism.

But t
he weather
was
fine that morning. Clear blue skies and a cool spring breeze had created ideal conditions for a heavily garbed lady to take some small exercise without expiring from heat exhaustion. “Yes, Ilona, it is a lovely day … made all the brighter by your company.”

It wasn’t a lie
. Ilona was one of her favorite sisters-in-law – Fiona labeled all five of her sisters-in law thus – but like her relationship with Eve, the friendship she had with Ilona was closer than most.

Of course, there was nothing to dislike about Ilona
. She was spontaneous and occasionally mischievous, like Fiona, so they got on very well. She was also the caring sort and possessed a quality Fiona knew she herself was lacking, in that Ilona was also one of the few truly kind people in the world. Far nicer than herself.

It made her easy to love.

It helped, too, that they were nearly the same age and of similar enough dispositions enough to become fast friends rather than mere in-laws upon Ilona’s marriage to her brother, Colin. The only difference between them was that Ilona had been married for three years now, while Fiona faced near spinsterhood.

Alone.

“I saw you dancing with Lord Temple last night,” Ilona said brightly, taking Fiona by the hand to pull her out of her sudden onset of melancholy and across the street to Belgrave Square.

“I think he means to court me,” Fiona confided as they cut across the gardened square. “He practically said as much.”

Ilona studied her for a moment as if something in Fiona’s tone worried her
. “Would that be such a bad thing? He seems to be an amiable man and is already friendly with your brothers.”

Fiona chewed her lip, a bad habit when she was troubled
. She’d been doing a lot of it of late. “He is very nice. It just came as something of a surprise, and you know I am all but engaged to Lord Ramsay.”

“I know nothing of the sort,” Ilona
refuted. “What I do know is that you are stubborn. Stubborn enough to refuse to admit you might ever be wrong about something.”

“Ilona!”

“I know it is not my place to lecture,” her sister-in-law continued as they rounded Wilton Crescent and the border of the park came into sight down the street. “But as your friend, who wants only your happiness, I must say that I cannot believe you will find it in Lord Ramsay.”

Another voice to add to the steadily growing chorus disparaging her choice
. A troubled frown creased Fiona’s brow. “But you haven’t even met him,” she pointed out. “How can you say such a thing without laying eyes on him?”

“Because I can lay my eyes on you,” Ilona said
softly, squeezing Fiona’s arm kindly. “There is no fire in you when you speak his name, no anticipation of the years to come. If you haven’t got that before you wed, you are unlikely to find it awaiting you on the other side.”

That observation was
philosophical enough to occupy Fiona’s thoughts as they worked their way up Wilton Place and under the morning shadow of St. Paul’s Church. True, she did not love Ramsay in the way she knew was possible but she had not considered that her family might be intuitive enough to read her feelings. Perhaps that was why they had taken a dislike to Ramsay. They were assuming that she was looking for a love match with him.

They reached the park and Ilon
a slowed their brisk pace. “Might we sit for a bit? I am loath to ask it.”

“No, I don’t mind at all, you know that
.” Despite the kindness the good Lord had heaped upon Ilona, He had proven rather stingy when blessing her with good health. Ilona tired easily, and despite her vivacious personality, her physical energy was less than comparable.

Finding a shade tree near the southern tip
of the Serpentine, they lowered themselves to the grass near a bed of flowers. Ilona set her parasol aside and spread her bright silken skirts about her until each ruffled hem encircled her like the petals of a daffodil. With a smile she watched the swans and ducks paddle through the water.

Without a single ruffle or furbelow
to have a care for, Fiona only smoothed the straight lines of her blue cotton skirt to avoid any wrinkles as she took note of Lord Ramsay looking rather displeased as he waited for her not far ahead.

“I apologize
if I was talking out of turn,” Ilona said quietly.

“
You weren’t,” Fiona said, favoring her with a loving smile and reaching over to squeeze Ilona’s hand. “And never apologize to me.”

“For anything?”

Fiona shook her head and Ilona sighed, absently plucking a nearby dandelion and twirling it between her fingers. “Then I will feel free to say what I think.”

“Haven’t you all ready?” Fiona said with a wry smile.

Ilona smiled brightly, her good humor restored. She pointed the dandelion at Fiona and twitched it like a lecturing schoolmarm. “I think you do not bear any love for Ramsay at all. Admit it.”

Looking across the water at Ramsay again, Fiona sighed
and opted for honesty rather than another denial. “No, I don’t. But that is not why I am marrying him.”

With a little nod, Ilona said,
“And there is nothing wrong for marrying for reasons other than love. People do it all the time and are happy enough with their choices.”

“But…?” Fiona prompted
, picking a seeded dandelion of her own and blowing gently until the fluffy seeds took wing and floated away.

“Of course there is that
.” Watching the white flush float into the sky, Ilona picked one of the white fluff balls and repeated Fiona’s actions with a delighted grin. “I don’t believe you are one of those people, Fiona. Grasping at straws won’t bring you happiness.”