My Wayward Lady (30 page)
It was a most upsetting state of affairs not to be able to exert the same control over her betrothed that she had always exerted over everyone else, and as if that were not bad enough, he now appeared to be taking an unhealthy interest in things that had nothing to do with her or the life she had planned for herself. In truth, Alicia was feeling quite desperate as she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber after her conversation with Harriet.
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My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
Fortunately her maid was there with soothing lavender water for her temples and several lavish bouquets of hothouse flowers from her usual admirers. That was one consolation; at least Chalfont did not object to the throng of fawning young men who hung on her every word. Alicia frowned as the thought occurred to her that perhaps he did not even notice or, worse yet, was not even jealous of them. As she continued to think of her admirers, Alicia brightened as she remembered Lord Aylward. Now there was a man who appreciated her properly. Unlike so many of the young men who flocked around her simply because their friends did, the earl was entirely capable of recognizing her superiority to the other women of the
ton.
Furthermore, he showed it. Lord Aylward made Alicia feel as though she were some precious work of art to be cherished and treasured, which indeed she was. He would never put her off with desultory replies to her charming conversation while his mind was obviously elsewhere, as Chalfont so often did. No, he focused his entire attention on everything she had to say, and whenever they were together he was completely absorbed in catering to her comfort, whether it was being ready to catch her shawl should it slip from her shoulders, retrieve a dropped glove, or shift his position so she did not have to crane her neck to talk to him. He not only did all these things, but he obviously delighted in doing so. He was desolated when they parted and was patently eager for their next meeting. Now why could not Chalfont be like that instead of being given to such queer starts as offering assistance to an old soldier or jauntering around the countryside talking to 279
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poor people in a manner most unbecoming to a titled gentleman of property?
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At the moment the titled gentleman of property was asking himself much the same thing as he rode around the tenants'
farms on his estate in Oxfordshire. Adrian knew very well why he had left London, however, and it had less to do with ascertaining the true condition of agricultural laborers than with a wish to avoid a certain lively and endearing redhead who exerted a powerful attraction for him. Much to his dismay, Lord Chalfont was fast discovering that the absence of this particular redhead only made him think about her all the more. Away from both Alicia and Harriet, he was at liberty to reflect on the situation endlessly. The more he concentrated on Harriet, the bleaker his future with the frivolous, self-centered beauty appeared, and the more he thought about Alicia, the more precious every laughter-shared moment with Harriet became. Harriet, Alicia. Alicia, Harriet. Both of them offered an existence entirely different from the one he had hitherto experienced: Alicia, closing off every opportunity for adventure, and the passionate immersion in affairs that had been his life until now; Harriet, opening up new vistas, new challenges and ways of making himself useful, and fulfilling his dreams in ways he had never imagined. Harriet, Alicia. Alicia, Harriet. Why did he torture himself by comparing them? It was not as though there were any contest.. Harriet offered vitality and life, and Alicia only a mockery of it. And, it was not as though there was even any 281
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choice. Alicia was his duty while Harriet had never been anything but a brief glimpse of what happiness could be, a dream and nothing more. It would be better for all of them if he were to put that dream firmly from his mind, but try as he would, Adrian could not.
Formerly he had been able to forget his mistresses, no matter how beautiful or how charming, and move on without undue regret. Now he could hardly think of anything else but Harriet and the way she lighted up a room for him with her enchanting presence. From there he progressed to the memory of their brief delicious moments together in the carriage, and his longing for her became so intense that it was physical. He literally ached to hold her in his arms again, to feel that wonderful sense of oneness, of peace and security, of the very rightness of it all. At last, by sheer grim determination, Adrian was able to concentrate on the problems of his farmers who, crippled by the falling prices of corn, were groaning under the double burden of the income tax and the poor rates. He sympathized mightily with them, yet, having seen the poor in the city, and having listened to the sorry tale of the poverty-stricken soldier he had rescued, he knew that simply passing a law to increase the price of corn would not improve the situation. At the moment he could only offer his compassion, promise to do what he could in Parliament to make things better, and instruct his agent to set up a kitchen in an unused outbuilding where soup and bread could be made in large enough quantities to be distributed to all who needed it. 282
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
The evenings the marquess spent reading
The Edinburgh
Review, The Gentleman's Magazine, Cobbett's Political
Register,
and anything he could get his hands on that might give him some insight into the economic woes besetting the nation. Inevitably, as he perused these articles, questions arose in his mind and he longed to ask Harriet her opinion of them, to debate the pros and cons with her in order to gain another perspective. So intensely did he wish this that he could almost picture her sitting on the other side of the fireplace, her red hair glinting in the firelight, her forehead wrinkled in a thoughtful frown as she discussed the issues with him.
For the better part of the marquess's life, the idea of settling down with a woman had been anathema to him. He had chased after adventure and excitement, changing women as easily and as often as he changed locale. Now, settling down with one particular woman was all that he could think about. Even the idea of having children with Harriet was appealing.
I must be touched in the upper works,
Adrian muttered to himself as he shifted in his chair, took another sip of brandy, and tried for the hundredth time to focus on
The Times
in front of him.
Finally he gave up trying to read and concentrated on the problem at hand. Think about it, Chalfont, he admonished himself, with Alicia you will never have a moment's worry. She will look and act the part of the Marchioness of Kidderham to perfection, leaving you to pursue whatever course you wish, so long as you escort her to the requisite number of
ton
functions. Since she cares only about your 283
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title, property, and position, she will never be jealous should you have other interests, and she is far too well-bred ever to comment on such a thing. Life will be comfortable. Unfortunately, this line of reasoning turned out to be as disastrous as every other because Adrian soon found himself wondering if Harriet would be jealous and if he would want her to be. It was most disconcerting to reflect that he was not at all certain whether she cared enough to be jealous. Did she feel about him the way he did about her? He had thought so in the carriage, but the more he considered it, the less sure he became. Such doubts were unique for a man who was far more accustomed to raising them in the minds and hearts of others than he was to experiencing them himself. Worse yet, would he be jealous of Harriet? The answer, a resounding
yes,
sent him flying from his chair in search of his longsuffering batman.
"Richards, Richards," he bellowed most uncharacteristically as he headed toward his bedchamber.
"Yes, my lord?" Richards emerged from the dressing room where he had been sorting cravats.
"I wish you to pack at once. We are returning to London tomorrow."
"Yes, my lord, very good, my lord." Richards's face remained impassive, but his mind was working furiously. What could have caused this sudden change in plans? There had been nothing in the post this morning that would have occasioned such a decision and while it was true that Lord Chalfont did have a penchant for travel and changing of 284
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locale, the man was not quixotic by any means. He usually gave his servant several days warning before decamping. No, this was decidedly uncharacteristic for the marquess, Richards mused as he set about packing. In fact, it was so unlike his lordship that the batman did not have far to look for an explanation. "It is that Lady Harriet," he muttered beneath his breath as he closed the lid on one of the valises.
"She is the only person who has affected him enough to be the cause of such a queer start."
Lord Chalfont's air of abstraction during their sojourn in Oxfordshire had not been lost on his servant, and Richards had a fair idea of the agony his master was suffering. The marquess had been unusually taciturn and, though he was never one to abstain from the bottle, he had consumed far greater quantities of brandy and port than Richards could ever remember. For a man of action, his lordship had wasted an inordinate number of hours staring out across the vast lawns of Chalfont or gazing into the fire, and it was obvious to even the most casual of observers that he was wrestling with thoughts of a most disturbing nature.
With all his heart Richards wished he could help his master. It did not seem fair that a Trojan like his lordship should be condemned to spend the rest of his life with a cold fish like the De Villiers' girl, especially when Lady Harriet was such a right one. The batman shook his head as he opened another valise. Even he, resourceful as he was, could not see a way out of this one.
Come to think of it, Richards reflected glumly, his own existence was also bound to become less comfortable, for 285
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undoubtedly his new mistress would insist that her husband hire a proper gentleman's gentleman to see to him. Was there ever such a coil? Richards doubted it. Well, there was no use repining. They would just have to make the best of it, and he would do his utmost to support his master while keeping his eyes, ears, and mind open.
At least they were returning to London where Lord Chalfont was bound to encounter Lady Harriet. Richards had been of the mind that distance would ease the situation, but he had quickly changed it when he saw how much Lord Chalfont missed Lady Harriet. Although the marquess could not hope for anything more than friendship from her ladyship, he could still enjoy that, and Richards had been a witness to the happiness that friendship had brought his master. It was not difficult for the batman to know when Lord Chalfont had been spending time with the lady in question for he always returned to their quarters full of energy and brimming with ideas to put into action. There was always a light in his eyes and a secret smile hovering on his lips that told as plainly as if he were wearing a placard that he had been with Lady Harriet Fareham.
Richards could not remember anyone, certainly no previous mistress, or even a brother officer, who had brought such companionship into the marquess's life. Any contact with a person such as Lady Harriet, no matter how little, was better than none at all. Why even just seeing her from afar; as Richards had occasionally witnessed, seemed to put Lord Chalfont in a happier frame of mind. Surely returning to London along with the possibility of seeing Lady Harriet would 286
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restore some of the vitality so notably lacking in the marquess during their trip into the country. The batman devoutly hoped so, but only time would tell.
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Lord Chalfont was not the only one suffering from his absence from the metropolis. Much to her dismay, Harriet was also discovering that life without the Marquess of Kidderham was decidedly flat. She continued her lessons at the Temple of Venus and had the distinct pleasure of seeing Lucy moved by her new protector, a wealthy brewer, to a snug little house of her own in Marylebone. To Harriet it did not seem much of an escape from her former life, but Lucy was ecstatic. "I know it is not a tavern of my own, but all I have ever really wanted was a house of my own and a gentleman to take care of me. I know that the connection will not last, but at least I am established now and I know I can continue that way. You have taught me to act like a lady, which is what first captivated Mr. Ruggles's fancy, that and my knowledge of brewing. But what with the house and knowing how to read and do sums, I expect I shall do well for myself."
But somehow, despite her pleasure in Lucy's good fortune, Harriet was not as thrilled as she expected to be, partly because she had no one with whom to share the news. She longed to be able to tell it to the only person who could truly appreciate the significance of it all. Lord Chalfont. But it was not only Harriet's visits to the Temple of Venus that lacked their usual interest, so did her rides in the park, not to mention her appearance in the various ballrooms of the
ton's
fashionable hostesses. With something of a shock, 288
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Harriet realized, as she was joining in a country dance at Lady Milford's, that, when the Marquess of Kidderham was present, she had almost come to enjoy such affairs. Then she knew she could expect intelligent conversation for at least one dance.
What Harriet did not acknowledge was that she missed waltzing with Lord Chalfont, not so much because of the conversation as because of the way he made her feel. She had tried most assiduously to put aside all thoughts of the warmth of his hand on her waist and the closeness of the tall lean body to hers. Such memories brought back the even more aching one of his arms around her in the carriage and the feel of his lips on hers evoking longings and desires in her that she could barely identify, but which now, try as she might, she could not put out of her mind. Harriet kept telling herself that over time these feelings would disappear, leaving her with the peace of mind and the enthusiasm for the pursuits she had enjoyed before meeting the Marquess of Kidderham, but they did not. In fact, the longer Lord Chalfont was away from town, the stronger these longings became and the only thing that truly seemed to distract her thoughts from such dangerous channels was her continuing campaign to bring the Earl of Woodbridge and Alicia De Villiers together. It was extremely lowering to be involved in such machinations at all, much less to take such an interest in them, but even this connection with the marquess, tenuous as it was, was better than none at all, though of course, Harriet could not admit such a thing even 289