My Wayward Lady (32 page)
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
and Aylward were meant for each other as it is that we will not suit, and I hereby release you from all obligation." Alicia hesitated, not entirely pleased by the ease with which the marquess relinquished her and concerned lest the least breath of scandal attach itself to her name. Correctly divining her thoughts, Adrian strove to reassure her. "Calm yourself, Alicia. I shall put a notice in
The Morning
Post
that owing to unfortunate experiences in the late war we have decided that we shall no longer suit and that the engagement has been broken off by mutual consent. How does that strike you, Aylward?"
The earl, unable to believe his good fortune, stood stockstill for some minutes, too bemused to reply, a beatific smile on his face. Then, coming to with a start, he replied,
"Perfectly unexceptionable, but you are too generous, too—" Adrian waved away the earl's thanks. "You have done us both a favor. Alicia is correct in thinking she deserves better than a life with me." The irony of this was lost on the happy couple who were gazing at one another with mutual delight. Leaving them to their newfound felicity, the marquess strode back into the ballroom, scanning the crowd for a mop of bright red curls, but it was nowhere to be seen.
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Harriet had indeed left Lady Margrave's elegant town house. Cursing herself for being a coward, she had pleaded a headache and asked Charlie to take her home the moment she had caught sight of Lord Chalfont entering the ballroom. She had thought that the marquess's absence had given her the opportunity to regain the equilibrium that had been so upset by his revelations in the carriage on the way home from St. Albans, but she had been thoroughly mistaken. To be sure, life had seemed very empty without him, but in a way it had been more peaceful; and while it was true that she missed his energizing presence, she at least was not subject to the strange fits of breathlessness that overcame her every time she saw him.
Harriet had begun to hope that this embarrassing condition had remedied itself while the marquess was in Oxfordshire, but the instant she had laid eyes on him at Lady Margrave's, she knew she had been utterly and completely wrong. Not only did she feel her cheeks flush and her heart pound, but her knees threatened to buckle underneath her, and her stomach seemed to be turning somersaults. Whatever was ailing her? Totally disgusted with herself, Harriet had plucked at Charlie's sleeve and declared herself seriously unwell. Ordinarily Charlie would have questioned such an odd state in someone who as far back as he could remember had never suffered a headache in her life, but he had just caught sight of the determined approach of Miss Wolverton and her 300
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formidable mama, and he himself longed to be anywhere but this particular ballroom. Miss Wolverton was a plain, earnest young woman whom Charlie, in a mistaken moment of pity for the eternally partnerless miss, had once asked to stand up with him. He had been paying dearly for this generous gesture ever since as he found himself hounded from one ballroom to another and it looked as though he were about to be forced to pay again.
Such a golden opportunity for escape was not to be questioned, and he hustled his sister out of the ballroom and into their carriage with dispatch. Too wrapped up in thoughts of his own close call, he had been silent during the short ride home and Harriet had been able to escape to her bedchamber without any comment.
Arriving in the safety and privacy of her own boudoir, she threw herself, fully clothed, onto the bed and stared fixedly at the embroidery on the counterpane. This foolishness must stop immediately, my girl, she scolded herself. It is bad enough for you to behave like such a ninny, but it is even worse to suffer weakness when he, if he thinks of you at all, looks upon you as an intellectual companion with whom he can discuss the issues of the day and nothing more. Harriet would not allow herself to acknowledge the fact that having striven all her life to enjoy precisely that sort of relationship with a man, she now longed for something quite the opposite. The situation was impossible. She could not go on like this. There was nothing for it but to avoid contact with Lord Chalfont altogether for she could not trust herself to remain unaffected when he was around.
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Having come to this conclusion, Harriet decided that the only solution lay in putting as much distance between her and the marquess as possible and she resolved to return to Buckinghamshire at the earliest opportunity. She would inform Rose tomorrow that she was to begin packing. After all, she had done her duty and supported Elizabeth. Her sister's marriage date had been set at last and there was no further need for Harriet's presence.
There was gentle scratching on the door. 'Thank you. Rose. I shall not need your services." Harriet dismissed her maid who, hearing of her mistress's early return, had come to ready her for bed.
Rose smiled slyly to herself. The rest of the household might ignore her mistress's pale face and listless behavior, but it had not been lost on her. And now, it was reported that Lady Harriet was suffering from the headache. She, Rose, knew it was no such thing, but rather the return of a certain marquess that ailed her mistress. Having correctly divined the cause of Harriet's general lack of interest in life during the marquess's sojourn in Oxfordshire, the maid had made certain that she knew the moment the Marquess of Kidderham had returned to town and thus she had heard from a stable boy, bribed with delicacies from the kitchen, the instant his lordship's traveling carriage had pulled up in Mount Street. If there had been any doubt in Rose's mind as to her ladyship's attraction to his lordship it was now thoroughly dispelled, but what was she to do about it? Rose racked her brain, but to no avail. There was nothing to do but trust in the course of true love and stand ready to be of service to her 302
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mistress in whatever way she could. Rose made her way back to her own room under the eaves in a thoughtful mood. Meanwhile, Harriet was entirely mistaken in her belief that the marquess remained totally unaffected by her. In fact, as he prowled the darkened streets later that night trying to work off some of his restless energy, he could think of nothing but Harriet. The heady feeling of freedom and the elation at having successfully terminated his engagement to Alicia had long since subsided to be replaced by a nagging sense of doubt and uncertainty, which was as unsettling as it was unusual.
Heretofore, Adrian had never stopped to wonder what any of his many inamoratas had thought of him or how they had felt about him. Though ostensibly he had been the pursuer and they the pursued, he had never approached a female until he had seen that particular look in her eyes that invited his addresses. Now he was cudgeling his brain trying to remember if he had ever seen that look in Harriet's eyes, and he could not, in all honesty, say that he had. It was a lowering thought indeed.
To be sure, he had seen the dark blue eyes sparkle with curiosity and interest, but had there ever been anything more, anything to indicate that she longed to spend the rest of her life with him as much as he longed to spend it with her? Adrian was not at all certain. In the carriage he had told himself that she wanted him as much as he wanted her, that her body was responding to the need in his just as strongly as he longed to draw her close and feel one with her. Now, examining it all with the cold clear light of objectivity, he 303
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began to wonder if his own desires had colored his interpretations of her response to him.
"I don't know, I don't know," he muttered to himself as he paced one street after another in an agony of indecision. Finally, unable to think anymore, he simply wandered from Mayfair to Whitehall, along the river to Westminster, and back to Mayfair again until he was at last exhausted enough to rest, if not to sleep.
But by the time he had reached home, the sky in the direction from which he had just come was growing pink. There was no time for sleep now. If he were going to put an end to this hideous state of uncertainty, he would have to seek out Harriet as she took her early morning ride in the park, for that was the only chance he had of seeing her alone, or at least with only her groom for company. The marquess ordered a pot of coffee and some hot water and then, stripping off his evening clothes, he plunged his head gratefully into the steamy washbasin that Richards had brought him.
An hour or so later, freshly shaven and somewhat revived by quantities of hot black coffee, he was dressed immaculately in a superbly cut coat of blue kerseymere, his snowy cravat perfectly tied, his top boots gleaming as though he had arisen and dressed in a most leisurely fashion. Mounted on Trajan he made his way slowly to the park, keeping a weather eye out for an enormous black stallion with a red-haired rider. Once in the park he rode back and forth along Rotten Row trying to catch a glimpse of Harriet while at 304
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the same time trying to appear as though he had nothing more on his mind than the fineness of the morning. At last he caught sight of Brutus trotting sedately along the edge of the park. Harriet had arrived some time earlier, but her senses heightened wherever the Marquess of Kidderham was concerned, she had quickly identified him and was now doing her best to avoid him without seeming to do so. But she soon heard the thundering of hooves behind her and knew herself to be unsuccessful in her attempt. There was nothing for it but to allow him to catch up with her and then deal with it as best she could.
Biting her lip nervously, Harriet waited for Lord Chalfont to come alongside her and greeted him with as much equanimity as she could muster, which was not a great deal. In fact, she could not even bring herself to meet his eyes as she inquired after the success of his journey into the country.
"Thank you. I had a most rewarding trip which I found to be extremely enlightening, but it was not all I had hoped for."
"Oh? And why was that?" Completely forgetting her resolution not to become involved in any sort of conversation with Lord Chalfont, Harriet made the mistake of looking at him. She regretted it the moment she had done so for having looked into his eyes, she could not look away again. Their curious amber color reminded her of warm sherry, and the expression in them was disturbing in the extreme, being at the same time both caressing and demanding, expressing admiration, yet at the same time asking questions she was not prepared to answer.
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"It was not all I had hoped for because you were not there to talk to, to help me think things through," Adrian responded, still fixing her with his enigmatic gaze and not giving her a chance to recover herself.
"Oh?" Harriet's voice rose to a squeak. One gloved hand clenched at her breast as if to quiet her thudding heart. This was dreadful! He had no right to stare at her in that unnerving fashion. She wished he would stop. No, she wished he would not. What did she wish? Harriet could not think when she had ever been at such a loss for words. A curiously tender smile quirked the corner of the marquess's mouth. He was enough of a man of the world to sense her unease and to be able to take some credit for it. This was promising, for it meant she must be a little attracted to him. Before his rescue of her, Harriet had never exhibited shyness or self-consciousness in his presence, quite the contrary. But since their embrace in the carriage she had been uneasy in his presence. Good. That meant there was hope for him.
"Lady Harriet, I feel I must tell you that Miss De Villiers and I have broken our engagement."
"What?" Occupied as she was trying to regain control of her composure, Harriet was shocked out of her selfabsorption by this piece of news. "I mean, I am sorry to hear that."
"I am not."
The blue eyes looking up at the marquess widened in surprise.
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"Come now, you, more than anyone must have seen how ill-suited Alicia and I were to one another. It is the best for both of us. We would only have succeeded in making one another miserable. Besides, Aylward adores her and will be able to give her everything that she wants."
"Aylward?" Harriet echoed in wonderment. Who would have guessed that her little plot would have been so successful so quickly? She could have hugged herself at her own cleverness.
Mistaking her surprise for dismay, Adrian suffered a pang of jealousy stronger than he thought he was capable of feeling. After all, Aylward had been a more constant companion to Harriet than to anyone else until Alicia had caught his attention. Had Harriet cared that much for the earl then? No! It was impossible. He would not believe it. Having gone this far, he was not about to lose heart. "Yes." He persisted. "And Alicia appears to feel that he will be all that she needs. I expect they will make a match of it and be very happy. And now, at last, I am free to live my life as I please without having to answer constantly to ... well, that is all behind me now. What is more important is that now I am at liberty to ask you if you would do me the very great honor of becoming my wife."
"Your wife!" Harriet exclaimed in astonishment. Her head was in a whirl. Things were moving too fast even for her to react to. The marquess free of his confining engagement to Alicia was one thing, but marriage was quite another. "But I never had any intention of getting married. I prefer to remain in control of my own life," she responded mechanically, too 307
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overwhelmed by the surprising turn of events to think before she spoke.
"I know you did not, but I need you. You are the one who started me on this budding political career. Now you must share it with me."