Lady Barbara's Dilemma (22 page)

Deborah blushed and then joined the others in their laughter.

“Perhaps there is a grain of truth in it after all,” she admitted. “But I do not think it stubbornness to wish to be married from my own home. It will be hard enough to leave my father behind as it is.”

David took her hand in his. “I promise you, you will be leaving no one behind, my dear. We will only be in another part of London, and you know I have the greatest liking for your father.”

“I know, David,” she replied. “I just find it difficult,” she confessed to Barbara, “to go from poverty to riches so suddenly. I do not want to leave anything of myself behind. Nor am I ashamed of who I am. Which is why we will be married in the East End in a traditional wedding.”

“And I am honored to be invited,” said Barbara.

“We are very lucky to have family and good friends to be with us. Sarah will be the ring bearer.”

“If she doesn’t pocket it, my dear!”

“And Lord Alexander is to play for us.”

“Lord Alexander will be there?” asked Barbara.

“We have become fast friends,” David told her. “And it will be wonderful to have his music at our wedding.”

“Well, I am looking forward to this. I think it will be the high point in a long, dull Season.”

* * * *

After they left, Barbara thought about how easily she might have given in to Wardour, and despite her loneliness, how happy she was to be free. Free to choose her own friends, free to attend their wedding. Free to dream of a certain Scotsman…

How right David and Deborah were together. Deborah’s fieriness was just what David needed, thought Barbara. Not only did her looks contrast wonderfully with his dark and melancholy handsomeness, but her strong sense of who she was had helped David out of ambivalence. While Barbara could well understand the desire to be fully accepted in society, she did not think that denying one’s identity would make for ultimate happiness. She was glad that David had found Deborah and not gone along with his family’s plans to have him marry into the nobility. Deborah was just the wife for him, and ultimately David would be happier fighting for acceptance politically than marrying his way in.

* * * *

When Thursday arrived at last and Lord Alexander MacLeod was announced, Barbara had to take several deep breaths to calm herself before she entered the morning room.

Alec stood up immediately as she entered, and she took in every inch of him before she came forward. He was dressed in a forest-green coat and fawn pantaloons, and looked every inch the fashionable gentleman, yet Barbara found she missed his kilt. She banished her memory of his bare legs immediately, however, and welcoming him, asked if he wished some refreshment before they practiced.

“No, thank you, Lady Barbara,” he answered rather stiffly. “I have less time this morning than I thought, so perhaps we should just begin.”

Barbara felt a sharp stab of disappointment and cursed herself for her foolishness. The man was only here for music, she told herself. Heaven knows, he would not expect a lady to have been attracted to a busker. She led Alec to the music room and, seating herself immediately, waited for him to unpack his case.

“Here is the music, Lady Barbara,” he said as he placed it in front of her. “Perhaps we could start with the second movement, since that is the most intricate.”

“Of course. But you must be patient with me, my lord, for you know your own music well, and I am new to it.”

The second movement was an allegro, and as they played it the first time, Barbara was concentrating so much on her reading that she could not fully enjoy it. But as they went through it again, she began to feel the music. Alec had managed to capture the spirit of a Scottish reel within a solidly classical form. The sonata was a sonata, but it was no clichéd imitation of a master. Instead, he had used the form to express a native joie de vivre, and Barbara felt again that pure joy welling up in her as she played. And yet, when they finished and she turned to face Alec, there were unshed tears in her eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“All right? Oh, these.” She smiled, brushing her hand across her eyes. “Tears of joy, I think,” she added tremulously. “You have written a wonderful allegro, my lord. I could almost hear Alec Gower’s fiddle.”

“You liked it?” he asked anxiously, forgetting his concern for her in his artist’s insecurity.

“Like is a weak word for what I feel. You have revitalized the form, brought something new and original to it.”

“Thank you, Lady Barbara, for recognizing what I attempted to do.”

“You succeeded, my lord, I assure you.”

“What do you think of this measure?” he asked, leaning forward to turn back a page. His hand brushed her cheek and she sat very still, willing him to stay there, close to her, his breath softly stirring her hair, as he sought his place. Did he linger on purpose? she wondered. Did he feel their closeness or was he only thinking of his music?

“Here. Can we play this again at a slower tempo?”

All business. “Of course, my lord.” Why had she thought that if she was attracted to him, he must needs be to her?

They played the piece through once more, but this time Barbara was on guard against her emotions. She still felt delight, but did not let it carry her away. And so she was able to offer her hand and bid Alec good-bye quite calmly.

“Will I be seeing you at Heseltines’s?”

“Yes, Robin and Diana and I have been invited.”

“Until then,” said Alec, and waved his good-bye.

“Till then,” repeated Barbara, unsure of whether she was looking forward to or dreading their next meeting.

The Stanleys arrived early to the Heseltines’s party, and Barbara saw no sign of Alec. She tried to appear interested in the conversation around her and willed herself not to turn her head each time the next guest was announced. She felt very foolish, for there had been nothing, after all, to indicate more than a friendly interest on Alec’s part. He obviously saw her as a musical partner and nothing else.

When he was at last announced, she allowed herself to look across to the receiving line. He was accompanied by a tall woman with gray-streaked auburn hair who could only be his mother and two slender gentlemen, one with an abundance of silver hair. Alec towered over them, or so it seemed to her from that distance.

Before she could tell whether he had seen her and whether he intended to introduce her to his family, she was claimed for a country dance.

* * * *

“Is the Lady Barbara Stanley here, Alec?” inquired the duke, who was gazing imperiously around.

Alec had seen Barbara immediately and had been about to approach her when she moved onto the dance floor.

“She is in the second set of the dance, Grandfather. The tall blond lassie who is stuck with the undersized and over-bellied guardsman.”

“Alec!” chided his mother.

“Ah, well, Mother, but we danced so well together the other night that it fair makes me want to weep.”

“Are you never serious, Alec?” asked his father.

“I promise you, I am very serious about this young woman.”

When the music stopped, Alec was quick to approach Barbara and bring her over to his family.

“Lady Barbara Stanley, my grandfather, the Duke of Strathyre. My father, the Marquess of Doune. And Lady Doune.”

“I am delighted to meet you all. You are not down for the Season often?”

Alec’s mother smiled. “Not if we can help it. My father-in-law is in London frequently for political business, but we prefer to go only as far as Edinburgh.”

The duke said nothing beyond his first greeting, but as others joined their little group, Barbara was always conscious of his presence. For a small man, he exuded an almost palpable sense of power. She glanced over occasionally, but could see nothing revealed on his face. She marveled that someone as open as Alec was a part of this family, but it became clear, during the next quarter hour, that he had inherited his mother’s warmth and sense of humor.

“They are striking up a waltz, Lady Barbara. May I have the honor?” asked Alec.

“Why, yes, I believe I am free,” answered Barbara, barely glancing at her dance card. To tell the truth, she did not care whether she had already promised the dance. She wanted to feel Alec’s arm around her again.

They were silent for the first few measures, enjoying their compatibility once again. When Alec finally spoke, Barbara almost regretted his breaking the spell.

“What did you think of the MacLeod family, lassie?”

“I think your grandfather must be a formidable opponent, political or otherwise. Indeed, despite the fact that he and I are of a height, I felt he was looking down on me. I admire you for challenging him.”

Alec chuckled. “Yes, I learned a long time ago that my size gave me no advantage over either my father or the duke. In fact, when I was younger, it worked against me. I ever felt the clumsy oaf as an adolescent. It took me years to learn how to deal with them.”

“And how is that?”

“With charm and guile, lassie. How else?”

“Not a thing to brag about,” replied Barbara with tart humor, as the music came to an end and he guided her off the dance floor and over to the refreshment table.

“Ach, I learned a long time ago that you cannot go head to head with unbending power. You must flow over and around it. Like water over a rock.”

“Or like quicksilver.”

Alec smiled down at her. “Not quite so slippery as that, my lady. I am a very concentrated fellow when going after what I want.”

“Yes, your success as a busker certainly proves that,” admitted Barbara. “You wanted your music and you got it.”

“And is there anything you want?” asked Alec.

“Oh, once I would have envied you your freedom to choose, but I think I am finally content with music’s place in my life.”

“Our lot is not all that different. I am not as constrained as a woman, but I am by rank. I am confined to composition rather than performance, as I have told you already. Although I have held onto the old plaid in case I get restless!” he added, his eyes twinkling. “But is there nothing else you want in life? You were betrothed last year. I do not mean to pry, but did you not lose something you wanted then?”

Barbara looked up in surprise and then quickly down, embarrassed by the concern in Alec’s eyes. “I thought I wanted to be Wardour’s wife. But then I came to know him better and decided we would not suit.”

“He seemed a very kind and serious man to me.”

“He was—is—a kind man. But there was an area of disagreement we discovered which made it impossible for me to marry him.”

“It must have been something important to make you give up someone you loved,” Alec said gently. He knew he was going beyond politeness, but he wanted to find out if she had any lingering regrets.

“Well, I am not at all sure now if I loved him. I suppose I didn’t, if love is defined as giving up a piece of oneself.”

“Was it your music, lass?”

“In part. He saw it as something analogous to sketching or embroidery, appropriate for a woman when not taken too seriously.” Barbara hesitated and then decided to tell Alec the whole. “The heart of our disagreement was over whom I could choose as friends. He wished me to end my acquaintance with David Treves,” said Barbara. “I found I could not do so.”

Alec had known months ago that he wanted Barbara. That he was in love with her. But until now he had not known her except through music. He thought of the courage it had taken to give up an ideal marriage for a private moral conviction, and knew that he was lucky indeed to have fallen in love with a woman he could share more than music with. He had found someone he could also love.

Alec’s silence worried Barbara.

“You think I was foolish, I suppose.”

“Ah, lassie, would that the world had more fools like you,” he said, and his hand caressed her cheek so quickly and so lightly that she could almost doubt he had touched her at all.

“David knows nothing of this and I do not wish him to,” she said. “I did not do it for him, but for myself. Do you understand the difference?”

“I do, lass, I do. As a Scot, I have sometimes been on the receiving end of liberal gestures that humiliate more than offer friendship.”

“Thank you for understanding. You are one of the few people who does.”

Alec broke the tension of the moment by asking her what she thought of his “wee mither” and she laughed delightedly at the thought of Lady Doune, who was an inch taller than herself, being referred to as “wee.”

* * * *

They danced once more that evening, but their conversation returned to its light and humorous level. When they bade each other good-night, it was with the promise of seeing one another at David and Deborah’s wedding.

After Barbara returned home and had said her good-nights to Robin and Diana, she found herself unable to sleep. She realized that she had felt understood by Alec in the way she felt understood by Judith and David. What was different, however, was that with Alec, on her side at least, the potential for combining friendship with passion was a reality.

Was there anything she wanted? he had asked. Had he been there with her at this moment she knew what she would have answered: she wanted Alec MacLeod. She wanted to experience again and again, not only the union that they shared as musicians, but the feeling of being seen and heard and understood, which had happened tonight. What their conversation had revealed to her was that here was a man with whom she could indeed have what Simon and Judith had found: passion and friendship. But did Alec find the same in her?

Although part of what had drawn him to Deborah was her pride in being a Jewish woman, David was relieved that they were being married from her home and not a synagogue. His great-grandfather had attended the synagogue of Bevis Marks regularly, his grandfather on high holy days, but he and his father only on rare occasions. It was hard enough for his father to accept his marriage to a penniless woman who would only hinder his social progress. He was glad that the ceremony, although religious, would be in somewhat neutral territory.