The Dowager's Daughter (13 page)

“Play the high-in-the-instep
grande dame.
Give yourself a few years, and you will be the most formidable lady of the
ton.”

“I must say, for someone who wishes to get in my good graces you have a very peculiar way of going about it.”

“Not at all. You complained of not knowing me. If I tiptoe around you, kissing the hem of your dress every time I say or do something that makes you blush from the top of your pretty head right down to your toes, you will never get to know me, will you? And I, in turn, shall be denied the pleasure of hearing you call me by my first name with your oh-so-very-seductive voice.”

Althea laughed in spite of herself. “Sir, I suspect that even you do not believe half of what you say.”

He leaned forward and gazed intently at her with his clear, gray eyes.
“Brava,
Althea, that is much better. Without a little lightheartedness to our natures, life would stretch before us one joyless day after another.”

His words struck a chord. “That is something my mother might have said. Indeed, I do believe she did. Worded a little differently, perhaps, but the meaning was the same.”

“Without such an oudook on life, I doubt your mother would have come through the horrors she experienced in her youth half so well. She winnowed away the ugliness and sorrow and made her bread out of all that is good in life.”

Althea thought this over, wondering why this man who had known her mother but briefly had recognized her strength in the face of adversity, whereas she had only seen frivolity. Suddenly, Althea felt very small.

“I love my mother very much, but until you pointed it out, I did not see her qualities in such heroic terms. I am led to believe that you have a very generous spirit.”

John made a deprecating gesture. “One does not have to be clairvoyant to see that in your mother’s case, happiness was a deliberate choice.”

As in yours? Althea pondered. She studied him closely. He was pleasant-looking enough, but most likely she was the only female whose heart beat faster when he smiled. Of a certainty, he did not possess the sort of devastating manly beauty that caused foolish young girls to swoon. On top of that, he no doubt had had to come to terms with being a second son. In other words, all his life he had had to contend with being Marcus Ridley’s younger brother.

“Happiness a deliberate choice? That is a lovely thought to which I shall give more consideration.”

“As shall I.”

She raised a brow. “Do you mean to tell me that you do not practice what you preach?”

“By and large, but some sorrows in life are very hard to surmount. For instance, when the love of one’s life refuses to marry one.”

“And who might that be, sir?”

“I am not sure. You see, John Soames fell in love with a little governess who put him in his place, then stormed out of his life. By George, that slip of a girl carried it off with all the hauteur of a grand duchess.”

“Mr. Soames fell in love with a figment of his imagination.”

“Perhaps. But John Ridley is in love with a tender, passionate young lady who is very real. Given time, there is a possibility she might return his love.”

The humor left his face to be replaced by a desperate earnestness. “All I ask, Althea, is for permission to pay you court. Let us get to know one another and find out what is real and what is not.”

Althea rose to end the interview. With a look of devastation, he followed suit Althea was touched. His distress looked very real.

She held out her hand—something she rarely did, and certainly not without others present. “I shall look forward to your next visit—John.”

He broke into a smile, the expression on his face reminding Althea of the way the sun sometimes pierces the clouds after a sudden summer storm.

“Let it be tomorrow, Althea. We could ride into Camberly and take a walk on the pier, perhaps stop for refreshments at that little tearoom on the esplanade.”

“And have tongues wagging from here to Brighton?”

He shook his head. “Althea, you surprise me. With your regal presence, I did not picture you as the sort of young lady who gave a fig for what other people think.”

She looked arch. “I believe you have me confused with the older Lady Camberly.”

“Then you refuse?”

“Of course not—I was merely pointing out the consequences of such behavior.”

He bent down and kissed the tip of her nose.

“You know, Althea, I believe you are more like your mother than you realize. You are only just coming into your own.”

“My mother is a very formidable lady. The average gentleman would flee from here as fast as his horse could carry him.”

He grinned. “We Ridleys are made of sterner stuff. I shall be on your doorstep promptly at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

Althea watched his horse carry him the length of the approach to the house. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that she realized there was a huge smile pasted on her face.

John arrived at the portals to Camberly Hall, driving a black curricle pulled by a pair of perfectly matched grays. The horses had been groomed until their coats had taken on the sheen of polished marble.

Before the carriage came to a complete stop, his tiger, Grimes, leaped from his perch in the back ready to settle them. A groom brought from the stables in expectation of John’s arrival came to Grimes’s aid, and each held a horse firmly under control.

John had climbed only the first three of seven steps when Althea came through the great double doors. The sight of her took his breath away.

She was clad in a curricle coat in a kerseymere of pale sea green. A dress whose color reminded John of a robin’s egg made a subtle contrast. This ensemble was matched with a silk bonnet of the same sea green, with matching ribbons securing it under her chin. The underside of the brim was fashioned out of a ruched silk, matching the color of her dress.

She waited for him on the top step.
“La,
sir,” she called out. “What a handsome pair of grays. They go so well with your carriage.”

John warmed to her praise, then felt somewhat sheepish that her approval meant so much to him. Especially since it was not completely deserved.

“Thank you,” he replied, and then bowed to her. “I inherited the grays from my aunt. Fine horseflesh was one of my Uncle John’s few extravagances. The curricle is one of mine.”

He offered her his arm and led her down the steps. He then handed her into the carriage, a gallantry that required very little effort on his part, for she proved to be extremely nimble. When she was comfortably settled, he climbed next to her on the driver’s seat.

Once he had the spirited horses well in hand, the groom and the tiger got out of the way, the latter jumping back into position at the rear of the carriage.

John could not believe his good fortune. What could be more blissful than to drive his curricle under the sun-dappled trees of the Camberly Hall approach with Althea Markham by his side?

He was acutely aware of a thrill of excitement passing between them. She smiled at him. His throat convulsed and his heart began to pound. He found he could scarcely breathe, much less hold a conversation.

As they approached the outskirts of Camberly, he leaned toward her, intending to break the silence with an inane remark regarding the weather, at the same time she did.

He was so enthralled by the elfin quality of her pale green eyes, he quite forgot what he was going to say.

Althea was the first to look away, seemingly interested in her gloved hands which were demurely folded in her lap. He saw her face and throat slowly diffuse into a rosy glow.

She feels as I do. Oh, Lord, I hope this does not turn out to be one of those elaborate mating dances. I cannot endure much more of this.

They drove past the pier and Althea thought fondly of their first meeting. The man she knew as John Soames had been able to look beyond her dowdy appearance and consider her beautiful. She had spurned George Delville’s offer of marriage for the opposite reason.

Could it be that John Ridley is in love with me? I pray so. I cannot endure the thought of it being otherwise.

She chided herself for allowing her unfortunate experience with Nigel Fortescue to give her cause to doubt John’s sincerity. After all, did not Mama vouchsafe his character?

Keeping this in mind, she set aside her worries and scanned the esplanade to see if anyone she knew was taking the air, but to no avail. It seemed that Camberly attracted more strangers all the time. Then in the distance she saw two men who seemed familiar to her come out of The Boar’s Head and walk in their direction. One was tall and thin, his companion shorter and rather stout.

When they drew nearer, she recognized them and tugged on John’s sleeve. “Those two men.”

“Which ones? There are quite a few gendtlemen squiring their ladies along the esplanade.”

“I doubt you would call them gendtlemen. Look. They are about to walk past Hansford’s”

“Hmm. I see what you mean. How on earth did you come to know such a seedy-looking pair?”

“They came to the Hall to visit my uncle.”

“Did they indeed? I do not mean to be rude, but one cannot help wonder what dealings he could possibly have with such as they. French, I take it?”

Althea nodded. “Monsieur Joubert is the taller one. His friend’s name eludes me for the moment.” She leaned forward. “Why, they just entered Hansford’s”

“You find that odd?”

“Every bit as much as my uncle’s gracious condescension toward them.”

John shrugged. “They could be buying dress stuffs for their wives. People from all over patronize the place. But of course I do not have to tell you that.”

“On a Sunday? It is rumored that Mr. Hansford has smugglers to thank for the variety of his goods. Perhaps that is the answer. It would certainly explain where my uncle gets his cognac.” She looked at him and smiled. “For a while, I
thought
he was getting it from you.”

His eyes widened. “Did you, now? I am afraid you are wrong about that Mind you, I would not be at all surprised if they turned out to be smugglers, but they are not likely to ply their nefarious trade in broad daylight, are they?” He shook his head. “No. I would have to say that they must have another reason for calling on our friend Hansford.”

“Then you agree that they
could
be smugglers?”

“Absolutely. They could be anything. Anything except exiled emigres, that is. Nothing in their bearing suggests to me that they might be aristocrats.”

His words gave Althea a sense of unease. When John reined the horses at the teashop, the pastries it was noted for had lost their appeal for Althea, so she begged off the treat He claimed not to mind.

“In any case,” he said, “it looks deucedly crowded in there.”

They came to the pier once more, and John asked her if she would care to take a stroll. “Rekindle the memory of our first meeting?”

In view of the people already crowding the pier, Althea was tempted to refuse him. From the start, his anxiety had hovered over them like a thick fog. She decided that a little lighthearted teasing might clear the air.

She put her index finger to her cheek and pretended to consider the matter. “You wish to rekindle the memory of our first trip? That poses a problem.”

“How?”

“With whom shall I take this memorable walk? The respectable Mr. Ridley or the outrageous Mr. Soames?”

“Mr. Ridley?”

Althea gave him what she hoped was a saucy smile. “Pity. You see, it will not be the same without Mr. Soames.”

By this time they were on the pier and John did not pick up the gauntlet she had tossed him until they had walked several yards.

“So Mr. Soames’s company is preferable to mine? That is most distressing.”

“Oh, I find you quite amiable, Mr. Ridley, but he is the one whom I met here.”

John sighed. “Soames lays claim to the pier
and
the riverbank so I must needs create my own memories with you—but what is left?”

She pretended to ponder the question. “It is hard to say. The tail of the north wind? Or the rainbow’s end, perhaps?”

He cast her a sly look. “Or, I could steal Soames’s boat—which is not really his, incidentally—poor chap has not a farthing to his name—and we can claim the seven seas for our very own.”

Althea gave his arm a tap. “Fie, Mr. Ridley. And to think that I took Mr. Soames for the greater rascal.”

“So you think that I am a rascal?”

“Without a doubt”

He inclined his head and whispered in her ear. “I am very happy to hear it.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because, my dear Lady Camberly, I have a strong suspicion that you have a soft place in your heart for rascals.”

Althea pretended to be shocked. “You, sir, are beyond redemption.”

As she anticipated, her rebuke was countered with a wicked grin. The tension had been replaced with jollity. The rest of the afternoon could prove to be pleasant.

Being more relaxed allowed them to enjoy their surroundings. John pointed out the amusing antics of the seagulls as they wheeled overhead, waiting to scavenge what they could from the nearby fishing boats.

Althea laughed out loud when one rapacious bird stole a scrap of offal from the beak of another while they were both in full flight.

Only then did she realize that they had become the objects of the questioning stares of ill-mannered bystanders. The final indignity was delivered when the gossipmongers huddled closer together to add their own opinions anent the scandal concerning the local countess which was obviously brewing under their noses.

As far as Althea was concerned, the pier had lost its appeal. As the person around whom everyone and everything in Camberly revolved, she regretted having exposed herself to the idle speculations of those who had nothing better to do with their time.

She looked imploringly at John. “If you please, I should like to go home now. I hate being stared at”

John looked wry. “So I notice. But surely you are used to that? It happens to our family quite frequently. It is best to ignore them.”

“I know you are right but lately I have been forced to endure far too much of that sort of thing.”

He was instantly contrite. “Forgive my thoughtlessness—we shall leave immediately.”