Secret Heiress (8 page)

The next morning the doorbell rang constantly in Berkeley Square. Reade, the butler, was kept busy answering it and receiving the stream of flowers, notes, and callers come to see the lovely Miss Chedworth again. Reade accepted the gifts and told the visitors that Miss Chedworth was not receiving today. He had been given strict orders by his mistress to admit no one, for Miss Chedworth needed to rest after her very late night. Actually, she was concerned that Arabella looked a trifle pale, and she did not wish to dispel the vision already created. To do so, she told Arabella, would be fatal.

“But, Mama,” Arabella protested, “am I not to see any of the gentlemen? Look at the lovely note from Mr. Stanhope which he sent with these violets.” She handed the note to her mother, who scanned it quickly.

“It will not do to encourage Mr. Stanhope at this time, my love,” said Mrs. Chedworth. “You would not wish to fix your affections so quickly.”

“But how long must I wait before I fix my affections, Mama?” asked Arabella.

“To favor one gentleman over another so quickly would arouse comment, my love. You might even be denied entrance to Almack's! After you have had time to meet other gentlemen will be the time to fix your affections on one. You still have routs and parties to go to, my love. The Season has just begun!”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” said Mrs. Chedworth. Reade opened the door.

“If you please, madam, there is a young gentleman downstairs who is most insistent about seeing Miss Chedworth.”

“Have you told him Miss Chedworth is not receiving visitors today?”

“Naturally, madam, I have followed your instructions. Mr. Tarkington, however, insists that he must see Miss Chedworth. I thought it better to inform you.”

At the mention of Mr. Tarkington, Arabella had looked up. “Oh, Mama, mayn't I see Mr. Tarkington?” she asked.

Mrs. Chedworth cast a puzzled look at her daughter.

“You did right in informing me of the situation, Reade,” she said to the butler. “I shall come downstairs and speak to Mr. Tarkington myself.”

“Very good, madam,” said Reade. He closed the door as he left.

“Oh, Mama, please let me see Mr. Tarkington,” pleaded Arabella. “He said he would . . . I most particularly wish to speak to him.”

Mrs. Chedworth looked at her daughter sharply.

“It would be most improper to receive Mr. Tarkington after we have denied persons of greater consequence and said you were not well. Why are you so eager to see him? You scarcely spoke to him last night.”

“He—Mr. Tarkington—seemed most pleasant.” She did not want to tell her mother about Jeremy's poetry, because she felt her mother would react as Jeremy's parents had. “I would just like to see him again, for I believe he will be returning to school soon.”

“That may be,” said Mrs. Chedworth, “but it would still be inappropriate to see him. I shall explain the situation to Mr. Tarkington.” She stood up. “I shall have some hot chocolate sent up to you,” she said. “You should rest.”

“Yes, Mama,” said Arabella. Her mother did not miss the tone of regret in her daughter's voice. She had better see to Mr. Tarkington. If Arabella had conceived a tendre for a schoolboy, she would have to put a stop to it; gently, but certainly. As she entered the morning room she saw an extremely handsome young man standing there.

“Mr. Tarkington?” she said.

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied, somewhat uncomfortably.

“You must forgive me for not being able to speak with you last night. I understand that you have come to see my daughter. That is very thoughtful of you, but I am sorry to say that she is unable to see you. She is feeling not quite the thing, as Reade explained to you.”

“I know, ma'am, but I was hoping—that is, I have something I wish to give to Miss Chedworth.”

“I shall be happy to accept it for you,” said Mrs. Chedworth.

Too well-bred to explain that he would rather give them to Arabella himself, Jeremy was forced to hand the flowers and note he carried to Mrs. Chedworth.

“And now, if you will excuse me, Mr. Tarkington, I must have some chocolate sent up to Arabella. It was very kind of you to call.”

There was nothing for Jeremy to do. He made his bow to Mrs. Chedworth and left without waiting to be shown to the door.

Mrs. Chedworth pondered the envelope in her hand. She could not withhold it from Arabella, because if Arabella met Mr. Tarkington again, he might refer to it. She would have to give it to her, but she would do what she could to neutralize its effect. She could see why Arabella, young and impressionable, would be charmed by such a tall, handsome young man. But he was still a schoolboy. She'd have to find out more about his family, but there was no reason to think he'd be an acceptable match. Arabella would no doubt outgrow her infatuation. Mrs. Chedworth would be happy, she thought with a sigh, when Arabella was safely married to the proper person.

Arabella had been very disappointed at not seeing Jeremy, but when her mother handed her the note and flowers from him, her disappointment vanished.

“Did Mr. Tarkington leave a message for me?” she asked.

“No, my love, he just requested that I give you these. I don't know why he could not give them to Reade as all the other gentlemen did. That is probably the result of his youth. Were he older, he would not be quite so impetuous.”

Arabella was only partially listening. She trembled as she opened the envelope. There was indeed a poem inside. She did not wish to read it with her mother present.

“Mama,” she said diffidently, “could I be alone for a while?”

“Of course, my love,” said her mother, not at all pleased. Thinking quickly, she said, “If you're rested this afternoon, perhaps you would like to go for a ride in the Park.”

“That would be nice, Mama,” said Arabella. Perhaps, she thought, she would see Jeremy if she went to the Park.

“I shall see you later, then,” said her mother as she closed the door.

Arabella barely waited until her mother had gone before she turned to the poem in her hand.

To Venus

When first I beheld you last night

a vision arising as from a dream,

I was swept aside by the thought

of a Paradise as yet unseen.

Her eyes moistened and she could read no further than the first few lines. It was so lovely, and it was about her. She could hardly believe it. She had to see Jeremy again to thank him. She had to find a way.

On the same afternoon, Giles decided to call on Caroline again. He was torn by the conflicting desire to resume his acquaintance with her and the unpleasant thought that he really must warn Caroline that she was becoming a subject for the gossip-mongers.

Even before Arabella's ball, he had heard conversation of a Miss Chessington who was seen frequently with Adrian Bradford. No one seemed to know anything about her except that she lived in Woburn Square with an elderly companion. As there was no indication of great fortune, no one could understand why Adrian Bradford was making her the object of his attentions. The further speculation he had overheard the previous evening had convinced him of the need to inform her of the situation. It was not a task he relished.

When he was ushered into Caroline's parlor, he found the task would be even more difficult than he'd imagined. Sitting with Caroline was Adrian Bradford.

Giles was too well-bred to allow his discomfiture to show, and he responded to Caroline's greeting courteously. He found himself perversely irritated with Caroline upon finding Adrian present, because it both confirmed the necessity for the errand and made it impossible to carry out. How obtuse of her not to see what a false fellow he was! He'd thought her a woman of sense, but if she could not tell a bounder from a gentleman, she was no more than a peagoose.

“Mr. Kendal?” Caroline was saying. Giles returned to the conversation. “Mr. Bradford was saying that Miss Chedworth seems to have taken the ton by storm.”

“Yes,” replied Giles mechanically, “she has.” Damn his impudence! Giles thought. It is not enough that he need make Caroline a source of conversation for the gossip-mongers. If he trifles with Arabella, I swear I'll call him out! He stood up.

“I am afraid I must be going,” he said.

“So soon?” asked Adrian Bradford, a touch of malice in his voice.

“I am afraid so,” said Giles. “Miss Chessington, I should like to speak to you privately about a matter of some importance. May I call tomorrow?”

“Yes, of course,” said Caroline. “I shall be at home and alone in the morning. I shall be pleased to see you then.”

“Until tomorrow, then,” said Giles, making his bow. He barely acknowledged Adrian as he left the room.

“Well!” said Adrian. “I fear your protector was none too pleased to find me here. Though why it should be a concern of his I'm sure I don't know, since the on dit is that the Kimboroughs have him slated for the fair Arabella.”

“I don't know what you are talking about,” said Caroline stiffly. “Mr. Kendal is most certainly not my protector, and I am certain he can have no interest or concern in whom I choose to have as my guest.” Then, spoiling the effect of her words, she added, “And his romantic affairs are certainly no concern of mine!”

When Adrian merely raised an eyebrow in cool amusement, she went on, “I think his discomfort was the result of his not finding me alone when he wished to talk privately. I am certain he would have felt the same way had my cousin been present.”

“Perhaps,” said Adrian skeptically. “What do you think he has to say to you which is of such a private nature?”

“I have no idea,” said Caroline.

“Perhaps he wished to warn you about me,” said Adrian playfully.

“That's nonsense,” replied Caroline sharply. “I do not need his judgment. Do you not think we've spent quite enough time wondering about Mr. Kendal?”

“Yes, indeed,” said Adrian, taking his cue from her. They chatted for a few moments more on inconsequential topics and then Adrian took his leave.

It may be time for me to show my hand, he thought as he walked down the street.

For her part, Caroline was exceedingly angry. She had told Adrian that she did not know why Giles wanted to speak to her, but that was not completely true. It had not taken her long to discern that Giles Kendal did not like Adrian Bradford. Their personalities were too different for either to feel comfortable with the other. But if Giles were to use his dislike as the basis for a warning about Adrian, it would be the outside of enough! She would not tolerate any such interference in her personal affairs. Certainly not from someone such as Giles Kendal, who seemed to be smitten by a child distinguished by more beauty than brains. She'd thought him a man of superior sense, but anyone who would be infatuated by a silly widgeon such as Arabella Chedworth was not in a position to give advice to anyone else.

Caroline was therefore in a dangerous mood when Giles came to call the next morning. Had he known her better he would have recognized this from the hard gleam in her eyes. Aurelia, who had teased her at breakfast over her “many conquests” had discovered that Caroline was in no mood to be teased.

She greeted Giles in the parlor, speaking rather formally.

“I am sorry that it was necessary for you to make a special visit here,” she said as she bade him to be seated.

“It was no trouble at all,” Giles replied.

There was a silence.

“Pray tell me the object of this visit,” said Caroline.

“The errand is not an easy one. Miss Chessington,” said Giles. “I trust you will not misinterpret my intentions.”

“I wish you will state your intention,” said Caroline. “So far I have had little to misinterpret.”

“All right, then,” said Giles, plunging in. “I have heard comments about your relationship with Adrian Bradford. People wonder about the ‘mysterious' Miss Chessington. Your frequent appearances with him have attracted attention which I am certain you do not desire. Perhaps this sounds harsh, but Adrian Bradford cannot add to your consequence. You know that.”

“I beg you go no further,” said Caroline. “You have no right to censure my conduct. If gossip-mongers have nothing else to do but wonder about me, then London is flat indeed! And if Mr. Bradford is, indeed, a fortune hunter, it should surprise everyone that he is seen in my company. If it were thought that I had a fortune, that, too, would be food for the gossip-mongers!”

“I do not know why Adrian Bradford has attached himself to you . . .” began Giles clumsily.

“Naturally not,” said Caroline icily. “We have established that I have no fortune, and you have made it clear that there is no other reason for anyone to show a preference for me. It is clear that you do not. It is apparent that you prefer someone of sweet but insipid demeanor.”

“Just what do you mean by that, Miss Chessington?” he asked.

“Merely that I believe our tastes to be quite different,” she replied.

“My taste is not setting the ton on its ears!” said Giles angrily.

“Of course not,” agreed Caroline. “When a man chooses to make a fool of himself over a child, no one considers it improper.”

“I am not making a fool of myself!” shouted Giles.

“Then you are not listening to yourself,” replied Caroline sweetly. She stood up. “I do not think there is anything further for us to discuss, Mr. Kendal,” she said. “I do not wish to appear rude, but I have an engagement this afternoon and I must change my gown.”

“Had I believed that my concern would be so amusing to you, I should not have bothered to come here,” said Giles coldly. “I came because I thought myself your friend; because I cared what happened to you. I shall not disturb you again. Please accept my apologies and my best wishes for your future.” He strode out of the room.

“Oh!” said Caroline, clenching her fists. “How could I have let him leave while he had the last word!”

Caroline was so enraged at Giles's interference that she was unable to keep the details from Adrian. He listened soberly.

“I am not surprised at Kendal's feelings,” he said when she had finished her tale. “I have never been a favorite of his; despite our fathers' acquaintanceship, he has never liked me. It is true that I have a reputation as a fortune hunter; it is easy to despise fortune hunters when you yourself have no need to be one. Kendal may be a younger son, but his prospects in the Diplomatic are good. He was fortunate in having Lord Walsingham to sponsor him. I was not so fortunate.”

“Indeed, I have often noticed that rank may substitute for fortune and fortune for rank,” replied Caroline warmly.

“I began by saying that I have a reputation as a fortune hunter, and that is true to an extent. It is also true that the only way for me to restore my name would be to regain the fortune which my father and uncles lost.”

“Then why . . .” Caroline paused and reddened. “Then why . . .”

“. . . do I seek out your company when you have no fortune?” finished Adrian.

“Yes, that's it,” said Caroline, turning away.

“I find that you, my dear Caroline, have something more lasting than fortune. Your spirit, your vitality, make me feel that somehow I can succeed and restore my family name in some other way. I had not meant to speak, but I cannot permit Kendal to poison your mind against me!”

“I am not so suggestible,” said Caroline.

“No, but if I thought that you doubted my motives in coming to see you . . . forgive me. I do not wish to embarrass you, and I have no right to speak. You know my situation; it would be unfair to you.”

“Why is it that men feel they must make decisions for me? I can decide what is best for me!”

“But surely you can understand my reluctance to leave you open to the comments of those whose acceptance you would desire.”

“I am past the age of caring what others think.”

“But if you stayed in London, you would soon wish to be a part of the fashionable world.”

“Thus far I have managed to avoid the temptation.”

“Ah, but you have not been long in London! Were you a resident, you would crave the balls, the routs, the promenades in the Park.”

“Will you believe me when I say that I would not!” Caroline exclaimed impatiently. She took a turn around the room. “I would not spend all my time in London,” she said. “I would like to return to—to my home in Lancashire, for I would not wish to be away from there too long. You see,” she said with a smile, “I am a country girl at heart and would soon feel out of place in London.”

Adrian looked sober. “If I could believe that to be true . . .” he said.

“It is true!” she cried. “What must I do to make you believe me? Has Giles Kendal convinced even you that he is right? If I refuse to accept his notions of propriety, then you should do the same.”

Adrian walked to her and took her hand. “I must think,” he said. “There is so much to say, but I must be alone to think. In your presence, it is impossible for me to think rationally.” He kissed her hand and strode out of the room.

Caroline, her cheeks burning brightly, pressed the hand he had kissed to her face. She knew she should be feeling happiness, but what she felt was confusion.

“What have I done?” she wondered aloud. “What have I done?”

Giles, for his part, left Woburn Square in a rage such as he had rarely known. He felt contempt for Adrian Bradford, but his rage was reserved for Caroline Chessington, for being stubborn, arrogant, sarcastic, and for putting him in the position of making a fool of himself. That he had initiated the exchange he did not consider: he had done it for her own good, and all he had to show for his concern was humiliation! Who did she think she was, this Caroline Chessington? How could he have felt drawn to her? Why did he still feel so? If she weren't careful, she'd find herself married to Adrian Bradford and all his debts. The one thing he could not understand was why Bradford continued to court Caroline. There was something wrong there. Bradford needed money desperately. That was a puzzle. He couldn't understand that at all.