Alissa Baxter (17 page)

“Oh, Alex! You’re as bad as they are!” Letitia said crossly. “Just because a man is
poor
does not necessarily mean that he is a fortune hunter! George has told me all about his worthy ambitions to increase his fortune. He has dealings in the City or some such thing. However, be that as it may, even if George never becomes any wealthier, I shall always love him!”

“I apologise Letty. I am sure that Mr Winters is everything a gentleman should be.”

“Oh — he is, he is,” Letitia said warmly. “George is considerate, kind, handsome — in every way a perfect suitor.” Letitia sniffed and, withdrawing a scrap of lace that passed for a handkerchief from her reticule, blew her pretty nose. “But now, Alexandra, I am to be cut off from My One True Love! I am cast in the role of Juliet, and my Romeo is cruelly separated from me. I shall probably sink into a decline, and die of a broken heart.” Letitia paused to admire this tragic speech. The picture she had painted of herself as a tragic Shakespearean heroine was ruined, however, when she continued with a smug little smile, “That should teach them! Robert, Charles and Cousin Amelia will be extremely sorry when they attend me on my deathbed, and realise that my death is on
their
consciences!”

Alexandra’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I am sure they will be overcome with remorse, Letty, when they realise that they have driven you to an early grave.”

“You are not making light of my predicament are you, Alexandra?” Letitia asked, looking suspiciously at her friend.

Alexandra, controlling a quivering lip, said solemnly, “Of course not, Letty. If I can aid you in any way, I shall.”

Letitia smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Alex. I
knew
I could rely on you. Best of all my friends!”

Alexandra, thinking about her conversation with Letitia after that damsel had left, wondered whether she ought to say a few words in her friend’s defence to Stanford when she saw him later that afternoon. He had arranged, the previous evening, to take her driving in the Park today. Alexandra decided against doing so, however, when, seated beside Stanford in his curricle, she stole a quick look up at his profile. The Duke’s mouth was set in an uncompromisingly stern line, and he did not appear to be in the best of humours. In all probability he would not welcome any interference on her part, she decided judiciously. And, by stirring up coals, she could, perhaps, land Letitia in even deeper trouble.

Alexandra came out of her brown study when, as they were passing through the gates of Hyde Park, the Duke said abruptly, “Miss Grantham, am I correct in assuming that you have eaten your words about the undesirability of the wedded state and that you intend to marry soon?”

Recovering from her surprise at this unforeseen question, Alexandra said, “I am not sure that I understand you, your grace!”

The Duke’s lip curled. “Don’t you? Sir Charles Fotherby appears to have been courting you in earnest, and you, it seems, are not averse to his attentions.”

Alexandra bristled. “Why are you concerned about my friendship with Sir Charles, your grace?”

“The members of the
ton
have begun to link your name and Fotherby’s together,” the Duke said, frowning. “I spoke with your Grandmother last night at Lady Jersey’s ball, and she informed me that she entertains great hopes that you and Sir Charles will become betrothed before the end of the Season.”

“Grandmama said that? “ Alexandra asked, dismayed.

“She did, indeed. Now, will you answer my question Miss Grantham — are the Banns soon to be read?”

Alexandra, seeing no reason why she should enlighten the Duke about the true nature of her relationship with Sir Charles, said vaguely, “Why, I am sure I cannot tell you, your grace. He certainly hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

“And when he does?” the Duke asked coolly.

“I shall make sure that you are the first to know,” she responded lightly.

The Duke’s eyes narrowed. “I would advise you, Miss Grantham,
not
to play games with me.”

“Play games with you, your grace?” Alexandra said, opening her eyes wide. “What ever do you mean?”

“You know precisely what I mean. I have asked you a direct question, and I expect a direct answer. Do you intend to marry Sir Charles?”

Alexandra eyed the man next to her, taken aback at his unwonted interest in her personal affairs. She wanted very much to put him in his place for subjecting her to such an inquisition. On the other hand, his startling revelation that the members of the
ton
believed nuptials to be in the air for her and Sir Charles had come as something of a shock to her. She found it difficult to believe that her grandmother was of the same mind as the rest of
ton
and that, without even discussing the matter with her, had informed the Duke of Stanford of her hopes for a betrothal! Torn between denying the rumour, and giving Stanford the set-down he undoubtedly deserved, Alexandra decided, somewhat reluctantly, to do the former. Speculation about a possible attachment between herself and Sir Charles was embarrassing, not only to herself, but also to her good friend.

Therefore, rather tartly, she replied, “Well if you must know, your grace, I do
not
intend to marry Sir Charles! I have every intention, as I have told you before, of remaining unmarried. I value my independence far too much to willingly relinquish it.” After a few moments of reflection, she continued in a different, more solemn tone, “I had no idea, your grace, that the
ton
had begun to link my name with Sir Charles’s. He has become a very good friend and is, of course, Grandmama’s godson, but he is certainly not one of my suitors. I hope he will not be embarrassed by this speculation.”

“I doubt he will feel any mortification at all, Miss Grantham,” the Duke replied urbanely. “No man is embarrassed when his name is linked to that of a beautiful young woman’s.”

“Oh!” Alexandra said, at a loss for words.

“I would advise you, my dear, if you wish for this speculation to cease, not to be seen so often in Sir Charles’s company.”

Alexandra frowned. “I suppose I shall be obliged to stop riding with him in Hyde Park every morning, then.” She sighed despondently. “I do so enjoy the early morning exercise, and I cannot think of anyone else who would be willing to accompany me on my rides. Sometimes Letty does, but more often than not she decides to sleep in late. And it is not nearly as enjoyable riding when one has only a groom for company. Besides,” Alexandra continued thoughtfully, “I am not sure whether Grandmama would allow me to go out with only Williams for an escort. I think she is concerned that I may do something dreadfully improper, like riding down St James’s Street and peering in at the windows of all the gentlemen’s clubs!”

The Duke, manoeuvring the curricle between a laundelet drawn up on the verge of the carriage-way, and a barouche passing him on the other side, said briefly, “I am perfectly willing to accompany you on your morning rides, Miss Grantham.”

Alexandra looked at Stanford in surprise. “But, your grace — won’t the
ton
then begin to link
our
names together?”

The Duke smiled enigmatically. “My dear girl, you must be aware that it will do your image the world of good if Society believes you to have captured my attention. Remember, my continued endorsement is necessary for your social success. Sir Jason Morecombe’s malicious rumours have been ignored because you have my seal of approval. But if the
haut monde
believes that my interest in you has waned, they will, in all probability, listen to Morecombe’s sayings — they are, after all, added grist to the rumour mill. It is necessary, therefore, for you to be seen as often as possible in my company.”

Alexandra said doubtfully, “You will not mind being the subject of idle speculation, your grace?”

The Duke smiled again. “As I said before, Miss Grantham — no man is embarrassed when his name is linked to that of a beautiful young woman’s.”

Alexandra flushed and decided, wisely, to change the subject. She found it far easier to spar with Stanford, than accept his compliments. So, to the Duke’s secret amusement, Alexandra began rattling on about what a crush Lady Jersey’s ball had been the previous evening. When her disjointed monologue eventually came to an end, he kindly took pity on her and introduced another subject of a general — and uninflammatory — nature. They discussed at some length their shared appreciation of the English countryside in summertime, until the Duke delivered his companion safely back to Beauchamp House.

Alexandra, after she had bid him a formal goodbye, hurried upstairs to Lady Beauchamp’s bedchamber. Her ladyship often had a nap in the afternoons, and Alexandra found her there now, reclining on a day-bed. After apologising to her grandmother for disturbing her in her hour of rest, she said abruptly, “Grandmama, the Duke of Stanford has just informed me that you entertain great hopes of Sir Charles and I becoming betrothed before the end of the Season. I cannot understand why you said such a thing to him. His grace quizzed me about it when I went driving with him.”

Lady Beauchamp yawned sleepily. “Did he, my dear? That is a charming bonnet you are wearing, Alexandra.” She put her head on one side and regarded her granddaughter. “Even though the price we paid for it was extortionate, I am of the considered opinion that it was well worth the expenditure. Blue really suits your colouring, my dear. And that afternoon dress you are wearing is quite lovely. Even though I say so myself, my dear, my taste in clothes is never far off. You present a very pretty picture.”

“Thank you, Grandmama,” Alexandra said shortly, trying, rather unsuccessfully, to hide her impatience at her grandmother’s obvious avoidance of the subject. She regarded Lady Beauchamp in a perplexed fashion. “Are you hopeful of seeing me married to Sir Charles, Grandmama? Because, I am sorry to inform you that I do not regard him in the light of a suitor, if you do. He is merely a very good friend.”

Lady Beauchamp settled herself more comfortably on the day-bed. “Well then, my dear, there is nothing more to be said on the matter then, is there?” Yawning again, she murmured, “Would you be so kind as to pass me that book on my bedside table? It is such an improving volume that it is sure to make me fall asleep. When we visit Hookham’s next, Alexandra, I wish to borrow
Pride and Prejudice
. It is reputed to be a very witty piece of work. Thank you, my love,” Lady Beauchamp said with a smile as Alexandra handed her the book. “Now you run along, dearest, and rest awhile in your bedchamber. We have a busy evening ahead of us.”

Alexandra, seeing that her grandmother refused to be drawn, reluctantly withdrew from her bedchamber. She was totally bewildered by her unusual behaviour, but knew that it would be futile to ask her grandmother again about the mystifying nature of her remark to the Duke of Stanford. Because, although Lady Beauchamp had often declared that Alexandra was far too stubborn for her own good, this characteristic was just as much in evidence in her own nature as in her granddaughter’s. And Alexandra knew of old that once her grandmother had made up her mind about something she rarely, if ever, departed from the stance she had taken up.

Later that day, at a musical evening given by Lady Selby, Alexandra informed Sir Charles about the gossip linking their names together. The baronet’s unexpected reaction to the news left Alexandra wondering whether she had been mistaken in thinking that he merely viewed her as a friend.

“But, Miss Grantham,” he said, frowning, “is the gossip so rampant that we must not be seen together at all?”

Alexandra nodded her head. “Unfortunately, yes, Sir Charles. The Duke of Stanford told me this afternoon that many people expect us to become betrothed before the end of the Season.” Alexandra refrained from mentioning that his own godmother had been one of their number until recently. Sighing, she continued, “I’m sorry to say that our morning rides will have to cease. It is most vexing, but in order to put an end to such comment, it is necessary.” She smiled wryly. “The Duke has offered to accompany me instead. It is ironic, is it not, that when you accompanied me on my rides, the
ton
immediately supposed that you intended offering for me. When the Duke of Stanford does so, however, all they will say is that he is setting me up as his latest flirt!”

Sir Charles looked searchingly at her. “Are you aware — that is — will Letty still accompany you on your rides on occasion?”

Alexandra looked at Sir Charles in surprise. “I do not see why not, Sir Charles. Although her brother exasperates her sometimes, Letty is very fond of him, you know. She is sure to join us in the Park some mornings.”

Sir Charles smiled. “Well then, Miss Grantham, the tongues of the gossip mongers cannot wag if I meet you there — quite by chance, of course — some mornings. A foursome, I suspect, will give rise to less talk than a party consisting of only three riders!” He laughed suddenly. “Either that, or gossip will arise linking Letty’s and my name together!”

Alexandra shook her head. “In our world, indulging in speculation about other people’s lives is more natural to some people than breathing. I should not be surprised if such gossip did arise, Sir Charles.”

“I wonder what Letty will say if her name is linked to mine?” Sir Charles said thoughtfully.

Alexandra laughed. “Letty regards you in the light of a favourite brother, Sir Charles. She would think such rumours ridiculous, as indeed they would be.”

“Yes, indeed,” Sir Charles said, frowning a little. Recollecting himself, he smiled at Alexandra. “Well, my dear, may I say that I shall miss our morning expeditions together? You are a young woman of remarkable sense, you know. Not many ladies of my acquaintance are as well educated or as intelligent as you are.”

Alexandra, her eyes dancing, put a finger to her lips. “You must promise not to let it become known that I am a bluestocking, Sir Charles. My continued social success rests entirely in your hands!”

“Never fear, Miss Grantham. Your secret is safe with me,” Sir Charles said, grinning.

Alexandra curtseyed. “Thank you, kind sir. I am most obliged to you!”