Defiant Angel (5 page)

No longer as frightened at her future, she smiled.

The voyage across the channel took two days, during which Tiffany and Alysse became fast friends. They were as different as night and day, but as the adage goes, opposites attract, so they did. Alysse thought Tiffany to be everything she was not--bright, amusing, and beautiful, with her long, dark hair and sapphire eyes. She admired the spirit and courage her new friend possessed and was not taken back when Tiffany confessed how she came to board the ship bound for France.

"Heavens, Tiffany, you are so brave; why, I would still be in shock over it all. Of course," she stated sullenly, "I've never had much spirit or courage, for that matter, to even consider such an escapade."

A look of concern crossed Tiffany's face as she sat, legs crossed, on her berth, brushing her hair. "Oh, Alysse, you have been the better for it; look where it got me. Exiled from my beloved Courtland, torn from my true love, Alan, and ..." She broke off, tears filling her eyes.

"Oh, Tiffany. Look what I've done making you remember sad things. Brian always says I don't think before I speak."

"It's all right, I have to get used to the fact that Xanadu is gone."

Alysse looked at Tiffany, wishing to kick herself for causing such unhappiness, although she could never imagine being so attached to a horse. God, she rode only because it was expected of her. Certainly not for any enjoyment. Pulling down the covers, she crawled between the cool sheets. "Will you get the light, Tiffany, when you're finished brushing her hair?"

Tiffany blew out the candle and slid into bed, feeling the lulling motion of the ship.

A long moment passed and was broken by Alysse. "Do you think men will find me pretty?"

Tiffany was shocked by the question, thinking Alysse to be what the time considered a fashionable beauty. "Oh, but of course! I bet your coming out will be such a success."

"I do hope so . . . for the sake of my betrothed, at least." Alysse sighed, turning in bed.

"Have you ever met him?"

"No, it was arranged at my birth. The Allistairs are longtime family friends, and my father had promised the Marquess Allistair his firstborn daughter. The marquess had lost all hope what with mother presenting father with three sons, but alas, I was born."

"Is he much older than you?" Tiffany asked, visions of a gnarled old man crossing her mind. She shivered involuntarily.

"He is twenty-six and holds the title. I overheard my older brother, Chad, say, 'He is quite sought after by the ladies.' " She sighed. "As soon as I am eighteen, the marriage will take place and the contract will be fulfilled."

Tiffany turned to her side, peering through the dark, trying to see Alysse. "Does it disturb you that you had no choice in the matter? For it certainly would bother me."

"What can I do? It is how things are done."

Tiffany wondered about Alysse's calm acceptance of the situation. The rocking motion of the ship caused the girls to drift to the edges of sleep. But before falling off, Alysse softly asked, "Do you think we can have a few girlish adventures before I become a married woman?"

Tiffany smiled in the dark, saying, "Oh, most definitely!"

Tiffany could never recall feeling as anxious as she did this moment. The closer the carriage pushed onward to Paris, the more anxious she became. Her stomach knotted with each passing mile and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Carolyn leaned over to stop her hands from doing irreparable damage to the silk of her gown. "Now, Tiffany dear, don't fret so. Winnie and I go back eons. She's not an ogre, you know, dear."

Tiffany smiled tremulously and stilled her hands, folding them in her lap.

Brian spoke. "I believe we will be crossing the property line of Breatoney. Yes, indeed we have; see there." He pointed at the stone wall. "There lies the beginning of Breatoney."

Tiffany looked out in the direction of Brian's finger, seeing a high stone wall. Her stomach began to flutter anew.

"Oh, thank God, I shall be so grateful when this trip is over; what with all this bouncing around the countryside and jostling, my lumbago is flaring up," moaned Carolyn.

Three pairs of eyes regarded her, and somewhat piqued by their ill-concealed humor, Carolyn retorted, "Well, all this carousing is fine for you young people, but when you get to my age, it is not enjoyable." Waving a gloved hand at them, she continued, "Winnie has asked us to stay, and I thank goodness for it. Winnie will know exactly what to do to relieve my aching bones. Why, she knows exactly what to do and when. Never flustered, no, not Winnie. Why, did I ever tell you about ..."

Resting his head against the squab, Brian rolled, his eyes heavenward. The girls had been treated to a number of Carolyn's long, confusing stories during the voyage, and prepared themselves for another. They happened to glance at Brian and, seeing his reaction, could not suppress a laugh escaping from their lips.

Carolyn was stopped midway into her story by their laughter. A confused expression crossed her face as she glanced between the girls and her second son, who sat beside her, a calm look etched across his face.

Brian responded with an arched brow and inquired, "Yes, madam, you were saying."

Tiffany was able to stifle her laughter, but Alysse giggled louder.

Still not understanding what Alysse found amusing, Carolyn quickly admonished her, saying, "Stop giggling for naught, Alysse; people will think you've gone daft."

Further comments were forestalled by the halting of the carriage. Tiffany's heart pounded harder and harder and her hands began to sweat when the carriage door was opened by a footman dressed in blue and white livery, the colors of Breatoney. Tiffany was assisted down by the footman. While she waited for the others to alight, she gazed up at the house that was to be her home. She took in the marble edifice three stories high. Terraced levels led to the front entry, which was covered by a large portico that served as a second-floor balcony, supported by large pillars, giving the relatively new building a Grecian flair.

An impeccably dressed butler answered their summons, taking their coats and hat. Tiffany stood in the foyer gazing up at its ceiling, which vaulted to a peak three stories up with windows, allowing the flow of light to burst onto the foyer. A balcony encircled the foyer, supported by carved columns. In the center of the foyer was a U-shaped staircase, which curved gracefully and met at the second-floor landing.

"Her Grace is awaiting you in the salon." The butler handed their coats to the waiting footman. "If you will kindly follow me." He proceeded up the staircase, leading them through an arched doorway to the gallery.

Tiffany stopped so suddenly when her eyes caught the extraordinary view of the formal gardens that she nearly stepped on Lady Devonshire's heel.

"Lady Devonshire and party have arrived, Your Grace." The butler stepped aside, allowing them to enter.

Winifred De Namourie, the dowager duchess of Breatoney, was sitting on a settee in front of a large group of windows. The sun streaming in behind her bounced off her graying auburn hair. Bright emerald eyes gleamed out, touching the assembled group before her. She rose gracefully, grasping Lady Devonshire's hands in her own. In perfect French she said, "Carolyn, you are looking as young as ever. It appears traveling agrees with you."

"Oh bosh, Winnie. You always say the nicest things, but I feel as old as Methuselah. Traveling is for the young, I keep telling Charles. I am practically worn out with all that bumping along, and do believe my lumbago is flairing up again."

Smiling gently, Winifred led her dear friend to a soft, comfortable chair. "I remembered your lumbago, Carolyn, and as we speak, water is being heated for a nice warm soak. But first, I thought you'd like a spot of tea."

Carolyn laughed. "Oh, Winnie, all these years in France and Italy, and still the proper Englishwoman. Perhaps a bit of sherry first." Carolyn settled herself comfortably.

Winnie turned to face the others, her green gaze resting on Alysse. "My child, you have grown. Do not worry. I won't bore you with the nonsense of how little you were the last time we met. You indeed are a lovely girl, Alysse."

Alysse curtsied and replied, "Thank you, Your Grace."

"Poo poo 'Your Grace,' Alysse; Aunt Winnie will do.

After all, Carolyn is the sister I never had." She directed Alysse to a chair near Carolyn.

"And you, you handsome devil, must be Brian. It is a pleasure to see you again."

Brian, bowing over her hand and gently placing a kiss on it, replied, "It has been over a year since my last tour of France."

"Ah yes, a captain in the English military it is now. I had heard your regiment was instrumental in Napoleon's defeat." Winnie smiled.

"Along with a number of others, I must confess, Your Grace."

Winnie smiled in response and turned to Tiffany.

Tiffany had been waiting, trying not to fidget or show her trembling hands. She discreetly wiped her sweating palms on her dress and licked her lips in a nervous reaction. When Winifred turned to her, she dropped into a curtsy.

Winifred reached out to cup Tiffany's chin gently with her hand. "And you must be Tiffany."

Tiffany swallowed, replying, "Yes, Aunt, oh, umm, Your Grace."

Winnie's smile broadened. Stepping closer to Tiffany, she enfolded her in an embrace and pulled away, holding her at arm's length. "Now, none of that 'Your Grace' nonsense; Aunt Winnie will do nicely. I have waited a long time to be called that."

Tiffany shyly smiled. "Yes, Your . . . Aunt Winnie."

Winnie brought her arms about Tiffany's shoulder, leading her to the chair next to her own. Tiffany sat primly while tea was served, hoping her manners were acceptable to her aunt. She listened with half an ear to the conversation, thankful she was not its topic.

The shadows thrown by the setting sun indicated the hour had grown late. Winifred stood, causing Brian to rise as well. "How utterly thoughtless of me. I lost track of time and made my guests suffer through a long tea." She pulled the bell rope, summoning the butler, who returned posthaste.

"Oh, nonsense, Winnie; why, I'm quite comfortable now. Must be the sherry. Charles always did tell me I should stay away from strong libations. Makes me dizzy, a bit confused at times," remarked Carolyn as she sipped her second glass. "It is quite medicinal, though. There was that time when Charles and I were in India ..." The timely appearance of the butler ceased any further discussion of the matter.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Jacques, kindly escort my guests to their rooms so they might refresh themselves before dinner."

Brian assisted a tipsy Carolyn from her chair, leading her to the door. Alysse followed behind, as did Tiffany.

"Tiffany dear."

Tiffany turned, "Yes, Aunt Winifred?"

Winifred softly smiled before speaking. "If you are not too tired, dear, I'd like to speak with you."

Good heavens, what have I done? she thought, walking toward Winifred.

Winifred saw fear wash over Tiffany's face, and seeking to still her doubts, quickly added, "I thought it would be nice for us to get to know one another."

"Oh yes, I would love that, too." She smiled, her blue eyes reflecting relief.

Winifred was momentarily startled by Tiffany's smile; it was reminiscent of her dear late husband, Robert's. Having taught herself over the years not to betray her emotions openly, she quickly pushed the memory aside. They sat on the settee together. Winifred leaned back to regard her niece. "So, dear, tell me a bit about yourself."

Tiffany was in a quandary, for surely her father had written every horrible prank and episode she was guilty of. Winifred, aware of Tiffany's predicament, easily broke the silence. "Of course, your father has written me, but men tend to have a different perspective on things. Don't you agree?"

A soft smile lifted the corners of Tiffany's mouth. "Yes, I do think you are quite right about that, Aunt Winnie." Tiffany, feeling decidedly more comfortable, leaned back against the settee and unconsciously brought her legs up under her. When she realized what she was doing, she quickly rectified the situation, only to be stopped by her aunt's hand and accompanying words.

"Tiffany, if we are to be housemates, so to speak, I think it best we feel comfortable with each other. It makes living with one another far easier."

Tiffany resettled herself, tucking her legs beneath her. Winifred smiled, cocking her head as Tiffany began to tell her about her love of horses, including Xanadu. Winifred listened with half an ear, for she had already learned a great deal about her niece prior to her arrival. And as Tiffany's sweet voice filled the air, Winifred watched this young child-woman, seeing the promise of exquisite beauty in her face, the passion and spirit so like Robert's that emanated from her. She was again drawn to her smile, the same full lips, the same shape but with a feminine flair. She thought it really incredible, but with that smile, Tiffany could almost have been Robert's daughter.

Thinking of Robert made Winifred's heart ache, for he was her first and true love. Memories, both bitter and sweet, flooded her mind. The only thing worse than his death was that she had had no children by him; children would not have lessened the pain his death had caused her, but they would have left her with a part of him.

Tiffany's peal of laughter brought Winifred to the present. A smile crept over her lips as she thought, Yes. While Tiffany is not our daughter, she shall be treated as if she were. She will have the happiness she's been denied by William.

She recalled the disparaging remarks William had written about Tiffany. Oh, yes, Winifred could see the impulsiveness and spirit, but would not break that spirit, nay, she would channel it, and Tiffany would be a success while continuing to be who she was.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Tiffany's question. "I'm sorry, dear, I must have been wool-gathering." Seeing the hurt expression cross her niece's face, Winifred smoothed over her remark. "When you smile, dear, you remind me of Robert."

"You really loved Uncle Robert, didn't you?" She rushed on as a fourteen-year-old usually does, not waiting for an answer but asking another question. "Was yours an arranged marriage like Alysse's, Aunt?"

"Robert's and my marriage was indeed a
manage de eonvenance. "

Seeing Tiffany's smile fade, Winifred added, "However, it turned into, as the French say an
affaire de coeur. "