Double Deception (23 page)

"Put that notion out of your head, Martin," he said, conscious of the regret in his voice. "The lady has taken a deep dislike to me. With good reason, I might add."

"Then you must change her mind, my lad," Ridgeway said jovially. "You have no idea the lengths I went to in order to persuade this lass of mine that she could not live without me." He grinned down fatuously at his blushing countess. "I am living proof that old bachelors do not have to sleep in cold beds."

"I imagine you were proof of that long before you wrecked your curricle in front of Lark Manor, my lord," Lady Ridgeway said tartly, and was rewarded with another hug from her doting husband.

"You are making a spectacle of yourself, Martin," the countess hissed, her blushes deepening.

"Come to think on it, lass," Ridgeway murmured in a husky voice, "I fear I am not much in the mood for dancing tonight." He winked at her suggestively. "What do you say if we escape upstairs—"

"Martin!" Lady Ridgeway exclaimed, quite sharply. "You are putting me to the blush. What will Lord St. Aubyn think?"

"Nothing that he has not known these twenty years or more, love," her unrepentant husband remarked, letting his arms fall with obvious reluctance. "But for your sake, sweetheart, I shall try to behave."

"I am glad to hear it," Sylvester remarked dryly. "I had hoped to persuade Lady Ridgeway to open the ball with my son, while you, Martin, do the honors with my aunt."

"I would prefer the lady in blue," the earl teased, his black eyes fixed on his host's face. "Or are you reserving that pleasure for yourself, old man?"

Sylvester was saved from having to reply to this leading remark by the sounds of the musicians signaling the opening of the ball. Perry detached himself from a group of young friends and came across to claim Martin's countess, with whom he was to open the festivities. Martin himself went off in search of Lady Sarah, who, in spite of her advanced age, delighted in the more sedate dances.

He himself was obliged by strict protocol to lead out the plump Marchioness of Oldham, a distant relative, who would doubtless fill his ear with salacious stories from her recent sojourn in the Metropolis.

His eyes were drawn again to the low settee shared by Athena, her aunt, and Lady Potter, whose purple plumes bounced restlessly as the old Tabby chattered with her two companions.

Sylvester willed Athena to raise her eyes from her lap. She looked rather wan and forlorn to his anxious gaze, and he wondered what measures he might take to convince the lady that— to borrow Martin's expression—she could not live without him.

For Sylvester had already convinced himself—again like his outspoken friend—that he had no wish to sleep in a cold bed for the rest of his life.

***

The opening strains of the first set caused Athena to glance up at the crowded dance floor. She saw Perry, looking as fine as fivepence in his new blue satin coat and white knee-breeches, leading out a tall redhead in shimmering gold brocade. The lady's smile was wide and generous and Athena wondered who she was. She had not come downstairs all day and had missed meeting the dozen or so dinner guests and those special friends who had arrived throughout the afternoon to spend the night at the Castle.

She had broken a vow to herself in coming down at all, but Lady Sarah's entreaties, joined to those of Aunt Mary's, had weakened Athena's resolve. Even her determination to wear her plainest gown had been overridden by her maid, who had been shocked that her charge had decided to forego the deep-blue shot silk in favor of a sober dove-gray confection left over from her period of mourning. Very inappropriate for Master Peregrine's birthday, Betsy had declared, shaking her head in disapproval.

So she had worn the shimmering blue gown, knowing that it made her conspicuous, drawing attention as it did to her slim but shapely form, and emphasizing the expanse of ivory skin above her low neckline. The extravagant gown was one that Perry had insisted upon having made up for her in London. He had also purchased her pale blue gloves and the beaded reticule she held limply in her lap.

She wished that she had at least been permitted to wear the lace cap she had tried to borrow from Aunt Mary. But even that attempt to appear inconspicuous had been denied her, and Athena had been obliged to sit silently as Lady Sarah's own hairdresser skillfully teased her auburn curls into an elegant cluster, held in place by a sapphire clip that her ladyship insisted was just the thing to set off her gown.

Athena listened with half an ear to the endless chatter of Lady Potter, a female of uncertain age garbed in a purple velvet gown of dubious vintage. In the short time since she had slipped into the ballroom to join her aunt on one of the settees placed strategically for the elder guests, Athena had learned more than she cared to know of the effusive though obviously kind-hearted Lady Potter. Aunt Mary had diverted the bulk of the lady's questions, but it was obvious that Lady Potter was possessed of an insatiable curiosity about the ladies presently sojourning as guests at the Castle.

Finally Lady Potter had resorted to direct questioning. "And how long have you been acquainted with the Steeles, my dear?" she shot at Athena, taking her by surprise.

Athena blinked, but before she had a chance to think up a sufficiently ambiguous answer, she was interrupted by Perry's voice at her elbow.

"Athena," he said in his eager way, "Lady Ridgeway has begged me to make you known to her, my dear. May we escort you to the refreshment room?"

Had she not been so sorely accosted by Lady Potter, it is doubtful that Athena would have accepted this invitation. As it was, she was glad to escape the impertinent questions and rose instantly, murmuring her excuses, and placed her fingers on Perry's proffered arm.

"We could see you needed saving from that dreadful old quiz, Athena," Perry remarked flippantly. "Could we not, Lady Ridgeway?"

"Oh, that is true enough, you shameless rogue," the red-haired countess laughed. "But it is also true that I have been wishing to meet you, Mrs. Standish. St. Aubyn speaks very highly of you."

Athena felt herself blush and stared at the countess in alarm, but the redhead's smile was guileless. What had the earl told his guests about her? she wondered.

"Athena and her daughter are spending the summer as guests of my great-aunt," Perry informed the countess quickly, letting Athena know indirectly that their brief betrothal had not been mentioned.

"You have a daughter, Mrs. Standish?" Lady Ridgeway exclaimed, her intelligent eyes lighting up. "I hope we may meet her tomorrow, my dear," she added impulsively. "I do adore children."

"I wager you will have one of your own before another year is out, my lady," Perry remarked with paralyzing candor. "Penelope is a great gun. I am teaching her to ride. Perhaps you would care to accompany us tomorrow afternoon, Lady Ridgeway?"

"Perry!" Athena exclaimed in a shocked voice. "You really must watch what you say. You are putting Lady Ridgeway to the blush."

"Oh, pray do not consider it," the countess said, her face flushed and smiling. "And the outing sounds quite delightful. I shall look forward to the opportunity of a quiet coze with Mrs. Standish."

Flattered by the countess's interest, Athena nevertheless shook her head. "I doubt I shall have time to join you my lady," she said with sincere regret. "I must supervise our packing."

"Do not say so, my dear," the countess exclaimed. "I had thought we might become friends. But I see I am to be deprived of that pleasure." Her smile was so warm and friendly that Athena wished things had been different.

Perry handed glasses of punch to both ladies and then addressed himself to Athena. "Aunt Sarah tells me you might be persuaded to stay a few more days, Athena. I trust that was not all a hum."

Athena wished she could reassure him, but the presence of his father was an uncomfortable reminder of things she would rather forget. No, she thought, that was not strictly true. She would remember the earl's kisses, the pressure of his lean body against hers, the heat of his blue-black eyes as long as she lived. She could not forget this man even had she wished to. Part of her cried out for him, while the other part cringed at the deception he had practiced upon her.

"You are very kind, my lady—"

"Please call me Jane, my dear," the countess said, a perfectly irresistible smile transforming her unremarkable face into quiet beauty. "And I hope you may be persuaded to ride with us tomorrow, Athena. I hope I may call you Athena? I fear I am hopelessly informal."

"Of course." Athena returned the countess's radiant smile, suddenly tempted to prolong her acquaintance with this charming female. "And perhaps I will join you tomorrow after all. Penelope has been badgering me to do so."

"Has my wife been badgering you already, Mrs. Standish?" a deep baritone murmured behind her.

Athena looked up at the gentleman standing at her elbow and blinked. Sleepy gray eyes regarded her with deceptive blandness. He took her fingers lightly in his and raised them to his lips, managing to infuse the simple gesture with a world of sensuality.

"Ridgeway, at your service, madam," he drawled, his gaze raking her face. Then he grinned and the impression of dissipation on his face disappeared instantly, and Lord Ridgeway appeared as he must have been in his youth, an utterly charming rascal.

Athena could not resist smiling back. "Lady Ridgeway is doing no such thing, my lord," she retorted. "We were merely planning a ride together if the weather is fine tomorrow."

"Are we gentlemen invited?" The gray eyes slid past her to the countess, and Athena blushed at the depth of passion she saw in them. The countess seemed unable to tear her gaze away from her husband's, and her cheeks flushed enchantingly. Athena felt a deep stab of longing at the obvious affection between them.

She quickly lowered her eyes, intensely conscious of the tall dark man beside her, so similar in looks and bearing to that other gentleman she had sworn to put out of her mind.

"I see no reason why we should exclude you, Martin," the countess said rather breathlessly. "Do you, Athena?"

Unable to find a plausible reason to disagree with Lady Ridgeway, Athena assented, wondering if she were not once again breaking her vow to avoid Lord St. Aubyn.

Perhaps deep in her heart she really did not wish to stay away from him, she thought, as the evening progressed. She danced twice each with Perry and Lord Ridgeway, and then with several other gentlemen of the neighborhood, some of whom had visited at the Castle during her stay. But the Earl of St. Aubyn did not approach her. Lady Sarah had informed Athena that her nephew had promised not do so, since she found his presence so distasteful.

Unhappily, Athena soon discovered that it was not the earl's presence that she found distasteful but his deliberate avoidance of her company. She could find no rational explanation for this ironic development. And what her heart whispered every time she caught his deep blue gaze fixed upon her during the course of the evening was clearly irrational on all counts.

But what would she do if her heart was right? a little voice murmured persistently.

***

Long after the last guest had left and the family retired for the night, Sylvester sat moodily before the library fire idly swirling his brandy around in his glass and gazing into the flames.

"If I had not seen this with my own eyes," the Earl of Ridgeway remarked in his rich baritone, "I never would have believed it. You are behaving like the veriest slowtop, Sylvester. Why the devil did you not dance with the chit, lad, and then take her out on the terrace and kiss some sense into her?"

Sylvester grimaced at his friend's blunt advice. "Lady Sarah promised Athena that I would not come near her, that is why."

"Since when do you allow a female to make promises for you, old man?"

"Athena would not have come downstairs otherwise," Sylvester said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "She has taken me in extreme dislike."

He relapsed into silence again.

Ridgeway rose to pour himself another brandy, then looked down at his friend, an amused light in his gray eyes. "Having just gone through a similar experience with my dear Jane," he remarked languidly, "I can tell you that a frontal attack will eventually carry the day. None of this shilly-shallying around, lad. That is for callow youths and moonlings. Men our age have no time to waste on frivolous courting rituals, old man. Nor do females past what society considers
marketable age
wish to be treated like chits in their first Season. They like a man to be forceful. They may pretend they are outraged, of course. My Jane certainly gave me the sharp edge of her tongue on various occasions, but women are secretly delighted when we men confess we cannot live without them."

Sylvester took a long gulp of brandy and grinned wryly. "And was that true in your case, Martin? I confess I find it hard to believe that you are actually leg-shackled after all these years on the Town."

Ridgeway reached for the decanter and filled his friend's glass. "I can scarce believe it myself, if you must know the truth, lad. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat just thinking about it; but then my Jane opens her eyes and smiles at me, and I wonder why in blue blazes I waited so long."

"You could have had your pick of the Marriage Mart any time these twenty years," Sylvester pointed out. "And you cannot say Adrienne and I did not produce our share of eligibles for your benefit."

Ridgeway laughed. "How could I forget it. I remember spending a good part of my stays at the Castle dodging mealy-mouthed little ninnyhammers without two thoughts in their heads to rub together." His face became suddenly serious. "It took that firebrand Jane to show me that all females are not either Haymarket ware or insipid chits with more hair than wit. It was a rude awakening, let me tell you." His expression softened into a fatuous grin.

"How can you be sure this is not an aberrant start brought on by advancing years?" Sylvester wanted to know. "You are over forty, after all, Martin. As am I," he added pensively.