Lady Barbara's Dilemma (17 page)

Deborah started to object and David quickly assured her that they would not go far and they he would return her at any time she wanted. “You have nothing to fear, Miss Cohen.”

Deborah at once felt ridiculous. He wasn’t taking her out to proposition her, he was taking her out to say good-bye. He was a kind man, and instead of just never coming back, he was going to end their friendship gently. I can at least be quiet and dignified, she thought, and agreed to accompany him.

After David lifted her into the carriage, they sat silently as the groom drove them out of the East End. “I thought we would not go far, just to Hyde park, Miss Cohen,” announced David, breaking the silence.

Deborah looked startled. “Isn’t it a rather fashionable hour for that, Sir David?”

“It is a bit early, so our pace will be above a crawl, I hope,” he replied with a smile.

“It was not speed I was concerned about. I am hardly dressed appropriately,” complained Deborah.

“You look lovely, Miss Cohen.” And indeed she did, dressed in her second-best muslin, a sea-foam green that complemented her coloring.

“But my hair…”

“Is glorious,” said David, reaching out to gently brush a strand back from her face. Deborah shivered.

“Are you cold, Miss Cohen?” he asked with concern.

“No, not cold…just nervous.”

“Miss Cohen, I have a request to make.”

“Yes?”

“May I call you Deborah and will you call me David?”

Why on earth does he ask that now? she wondered.

“Don’t you think it is foolish to be on a first-name basis only to say good-by?” she blurted out.

“Good-bye? I am not intending to say good-bye, I assure you, Miss Cohen.”

“Oh. Then why did you call for me?”

“I called on you for several reasons. To confirm our friendship. To introduce you to some friends. And for something else.”

Deborah blushed, and cursed herself for speaking without thinking. He would now feel she had put him on the spot.

“Aren’t you at all curious about my third reason, Deborah? There, I’ve assumed your permission.”

“Oh, call me Deborah, by all means. I suppose a mistress would be on first-name terms with her lover.”

“Good God, woman. Will you get that idea out of your head? I did not call on you to give you a slip on the shoulder. I called on you to ask you to marry me.”

Deborah was speechless.

“Well, no, that isn’t really what I had planned to do,” David said more calmly. “I was going to ask you, very respectfully and politely, if we might expand our friendship into something more serious. Then I was going to court you, then speak to your father in the approved manner, and
then
ask you to marry me. But you are like a hedgehog, and have spoiled all my careful planning. So tell me, Deborah Cohen,” said David, putting his finger on her chin and turning her face to meet his, “would you consider marrying me?”

Deborah opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Speechless, Deborah?” teased David. “A first. But are you speechless with surprise or outrage?”

“I don’t know what to say, Sir David.”

“Please call me David.”

“You know I have enjoyed your companionship.”

“Yes?”

“And you know that I find you very attractive…”

“But…?”

“Are you sure you wish to court plain Deborah Cohen from the East End when you could probably find yourself the daughter of an earl?”

“Do you mean, do I want a Jewish woman for my wife?”

“I suppose that is part of what I am asking, David. There is not only a difference in our stations, but also in the way we think about ourselves as Jews. I suspect that had you not met me, you may well have married a Christian lady. I would never have married a Christian gentleman.”

“You may be right, Deborah. I confess that although I have not been eager to rush into it, I may well have ended up marrying an impoverished peer’s daughter. But I have met you, and fallen in love with you. It would be foolish to deny that we have led different lives. But there is more than one way of being Jewish. You and your father are not extremely observant, although you are more so than my family.”

“I just would never want to try to ‘pass,’ David. I am proud of who I am.”

“Is that what you think I do? I assure you, unless you convert, and even then, you are always identified as a Jew, no matter how liberal the circles in which you move,” replied David with a touch of bitterness.

“You have always seemed immune to that kind of prejudice, for you are very much the English gentleman.”

“I confess that until the incident with Malachi, I tried to keep myself as unaware as possible. I had convinced myself that the less people thought of me as a Jew, the better chance I had at working for reforms.”

“With me as your wife, you will hardly blend in, David,” said Deborah, wanting with all her heart to accept him, but not willing to gloss over the difficulties.

“Oh, I can tell them you’re Irish!” he teased. “With that red hair and those freckles, you could well be. Although, as Miss Cohen, you are probably as acceptable as a Miss O’Toole. It is hard to say whether anti-Jewish or anti-Irish sentiment is more virulent.”

“David…”

“Yes, Deborah?”

“I would like two things.”

“Anything.”

“I would like to give a ‘yes’ to the question you intended to ask me. I would like to be courted.”

“Done. I never wanted to rush you. And the other?”

“I would like you to kiss me.”

“Nothing would delight me more,” David replied with great formality. He leaned down and quietly touched her lips.

“I am afraid there is one other thing,” said Deborah a moment after his brief kiss.

“Yes?”

“Give me a real kiss, David.”

David touched her lips again, gently at first, and then hungrily as he felt her response. When they at last pulled away from one another, they were immediately drawn back into another kiss.

David finally broke their embrace. “I think Richmond would have been a better choice for this afternoon, Deborah. We are almost to the park.”

Deborah reached up to smooth her hair with shaking hands. “I did not realize kissing could be like that,” she admitted shyly.

“Neither did I,” said David, smiling at her. “I hope this courtship will be a relatively short one.”

“Perhaps it will,” said Deborah.

Both Deborah and David were dazed by the time they entered the park, but David still had enough presence of mind to greet several acquaintances with a wave of his hand. His face lit up, Deborah couldn’t help noticing, when a statuesque blond pulled her horse over to the carriage and leaned down to say hello. It was clear that whoever Lady Barbara Stanley was, she knew David well and liked him even better. After her introduction to Deborah, Barbara made sure to include her in the conversation, but there was not much Deborah could add to the news of mutual acquaintances they were trading back and forth.

“Do you like music, Miss Cohen?” inquired Barbara.

“Why, yes I do,” replied Deborah. “Very much.”

“David, I am having a musical evening next week to welcome Wardour back to town. I have extended an invitation to the Duke of Wellington and I think he will attend. Perhaps Miss Cohen would like to be your guest?”

David assured her that they would both love to attend. “And speaking of music, Barbara, I do not think I ever thanked you for sending Alec Gower to me. I have enjoyed his company almost as must as his music. Will he be among the musicians?”

Barbara hesitated. It would indeed seem odd if she did not hire someone she herself had recommended. “Perhaps, if he has no other engagement.”

“You must have him there if Wellington is to be present.”

“I suppose I must, then,” said Barbara with a smile. “Would you do me a favor and ask him?”

“Of course.”

“It was delightful to meet you, Miss Cohen. I will be looking forward to seeing you again when we have more time for conversation. Good-bye, David.”

As Barbara turned her mare and trotted away, David reached for Deborah’s hand and said, “I am pleased I was able to introduce you. Lady Barbara is a good friend.”

Deborah drew her hand away. “I could see that,” she replied coolly.

“You did not like her, then?” asked David.

“I think the question is how much you like her. You seem very close.”

“We became good friends almost immediately that we were introduced.”

Deborah hated herself for asking, but couldn’t help it. “Did neither of you want more than friendship? She would seem the perfect choice of bride for you. You move in the same circles, share a love of music…”

“Actually, Barbara is quite a talented musician herself.”

“She would be,” Deborah muttered, not quite under her breath.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. It is just that I am wondering whether you spent so much time with me this summer because Lady Barbara was out of town.”

“As instantly as we became friends, Barbara and I agreed that we would not suit as anything else. Is it jealousy that is making you waspish, Deborah?”

Deborah’s voice trembled as she answered. “If you wish to make a place in English society, it is clear that someone like Lady Barbara is more appropriate for you, David.”

“Aside from the fact that we are not at all attracted to one another physically, Lady Barbara Stanley would never be allowed to marry a Jew. Her family is liberal, but not that liberal. And they are far from destitute. I have had a few chances already to marry into the ruined nobility, my dear, and have never even been tempted. Plain Miss Cohen is the bride I want.”

“Plain Miss Cohen?”

“Your words, my dear, and I can see I will have to kiss you into submission again to convince you. But before I do, I want you to know that you are the equal of any woman I’ve ever met, titled or otherwise. I love
you,
my dear.” And David leaned over and proceeded to prove it.

Barbara spent the next week alternating between nights at home to avoid a chance encounter with Mr. Gower and nights spent in a frenzy of activity to keep her mind off her musical evening. As it turned out, he was not playing for any of the events she attended. Why she had ever given him David’s name, she didn’t know. She
did
know. She
had
wanted to see him again. She still wanted to see him again, but it was a futile and shameful feeling, she told herself. Surely she had discovered that a quiet and steady affection seasoned with physical compatibility was what she wanted.

When Wardour finally arrived in London, his welcome was all that a prospective husband could wish for and more. If Barbara did not quite run to throw herself into his arms, neither did she wait for him to be shown into the morning room. She was in the hall just after he was announced, and the expression on her face was all that any fiancé could hope for.

“I am delighted to see you, Peter.” Barbara drew him into the morning room and, shutting the door, lifted her face for a kiss.

Wardour bent down and gave her a gentle kiss. Surely the fact that I want him to kiss me more passionately is a sign that I am not lost, she thought. But why am I always left wanting more?

“I can only stay for a moment or two, but I wanted to see you,” said Wardour. “I have to help Mother settle in. But we have an invitation to the Hardwicks’ tonight. Will you be there?”

“I will be now,” Barbara replied. “And my invitations? Did you receive them?”

“We did, and it sounds delightful, my dear. Until tonight.” Wardour drew her into his arms for another kiss, one that was far more satisfactory, and Barbara decided that her doubts were just the normal pre-wedding nervousness.

* * * *

Alec had spent the past week with one eye on his instrument and the other looking for Lady Barbara Stanley. He couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when he found himself playing at a gathering that did not include her. Sir David was present on a few of these occasions, and always took time to come up to the musicians and chat with Alec for a few minutes.

“Are you engaged next Wednesday night?” David asked him the night after he had spoken with Barbara.

“No,” said Alec. “Did you want me for the evening?”

“Actually, it is Lady Barbara who wishes to hire you.”

Alec’s face registered his surprise.

“I saw her in the park yesterday,” explained David. “She is having a small gathering and would like you to come and play. The Duke of Wellington has been invited, so this is a great opportunity to demonstrate your talent.”

“Wellington?”

“The Stanleys know him quite well. Major Stanley served under him at Waterloo.”

Aye, and the Duke of Strathyre knows him very well also, thought Alec. He’s only met me briefly, though, and I don’t resemble my grandfather at all, so perhaps I will be safe. At any rate, it is too late to invent a previous engagement now.

“The duke used to play the violin, you know, and was supposed to be very talented.”

“Then he will be a critical audience. I hope I don’t disappoint him.”

“I hardly think there is any danger of that, Alec. I will be looking forward to next week.”

As I will not, thought Alec as he watched David return to his friends. Not only would he see Barbara, something he wanted and dreaded at the same time, but he would be risking exposure. It would be better to take the coward’s way out and leave town, he thought.

But one week later he found himself knocking at the side entrance of the Stanley home, early enough to be introduced to the other musicians and become familiar with the acoustics of the music room. They were to play quartets this evening, and it did not seem that Lady Barbara would be playing. Alec was relieved that she would be safely in her place as hostess, which would keep distance between them. The other musicians were known to him and quite competent, but not of his caliber, and he carefully monitored his playing so he did not stand out for his superiority. It was something he was used to doing. It was something he had not had to do with Barbara, which had made playing with her such a joy.