Anne Barbour (4 page)

“Indeed, Lady Fortescue,” March said, bending a smile on the elderly beldam with whom he stood in conversation, “I could not agree with you more. The latitude allowed young people today is most disturbing. Scandalous, no less. Their goings-on in London are simply appalling.”

Bidding a firm adieu to the lady, who obviously wished to hear more on this fascinating subject, he moved to a position near the doorway where he could watch Miss Fox unobserved.

How could he have thought her colorless? he wondered again in bemusement, observing her head thrown back in laughter at a witticism delivered with what the earl could only consider a fatuous guffaw by her partner. Below a graceful sweep of midnight hair, her eyes sparkled like sunlight dancing on a tropic sea. The flush tinting her cheeks put him in mind of roses on snow and the skirt of her silk gown swirled to reveal the lush curves beneath it. March felt his throat tighten.

Steady on, my lad, he told himself grimly. Casual seduction had never appealed to him, and this woman above all was forbidden territory. He watched sourly as the set ended and another gentleman approached to gather her decorously in his arms for a quadrille. Slightly younger than the colonel, this fellow possessed more hair on his head and was also somewhat plumper than the retired warrior. Probably plumper in the pocket, too, surmised the earl with a certain degree of cynicism, judging from the warm smile with which she greeted her new partner.

“Haven’t seen you out and about much, Miss Fox,” Squire Hadley said, beaming at the glowing face before him.

Alison relaxed momentarily. The squire could also be said to be her admirer, but his attentions were so obviously spread among every other presentable female in Bath that she did not feel threatened by them. Indeed, with his self-deprecating sense of humor and genuine appreciation of her company, she thought more of him as a valued friend than a suitor to her charms.

“I see Marchford is in town,” continued the squire. “Come to visit his aunt, has he?”

If Thomas Hadley noted the sudden stiffening of the slender back beneath his gloved hand, he said nothing. “Yes,” said Alison quietly. “He arrived this afternoon. Lady Edith was most pleased to see him,” she continued in rather a breathless rush. “I believe he plans to stay a week or so.”

“Ah,” replied the squire. “I hear he is on the verge of falling into parson’s mousetrap.”

“As to that, I could not say.” Her voice was cool and she turned the conversation to a more innocuous subject. She stepped away from Mr. Hadley quickly as the music faded into silence, intending to return to Lady Edith’s side, but she was halted by a now-familiar voice speaking behind her.

“I understand they are going to play another set, Miss Fox. I should be honored if you would try me as a partner.”

Wildly, Alison tried to form words of refusal, but without waiting for an answer, Lord Marchford swept her into the rhythm of the music. She almost gasped as he placed his hand on her back, its warmth penetrating the thin silk of her gown. She could only be grateful that the mechanics of the dance would keep them apart for most of its duration. Her temperature seemed to rise in an alarming fashion as he bent to whisper to her. His mouth was terrifyingly close to her ear.

“Miss Fox,” he whispered, “I may not have another opportunity to speak with you in such, er, close proximity.” Alison’s heart pounded wildly. “I would very much appreciate,” he continued, “the opportunity to speak to you in private.”

The words were an icy shower that effectively quelled her temperature if not the beat of her heart, which plummeted into her shoes. Her gaze flew to his and her eyes widened.

“I d-don’t understand, my lord,” she quavered.

“Please,” he responded, and it seemed to Alison that he must be overset, for he was somewhat breathless, “I have no evil designs on your person. There is, merely, a matter that we must discuss.”

“I see.” Alison forced her voice to a semblance of composure.

“May I suggest a stroll through Sydney Gardens tomorrow? That is, if your duties to my aunt will permit,” he added with some irony.

“It would have to be fairly early, my lord.” Dear God, surely he must hear the thundering of her heart beneath its modest covering. Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Lady Edith rises at eight and breakfasts in her room. She will want to visit the Pump Room afterward. I would have to return to accompany her by eleven or so.”

“Excellent. An early appointment will assure us of some degree of privacy. I shall call for you at eight.”

As the earl predicted, Alison saw little of him for the rest of the evening, for later he left the two ladies at the door to their home with a tip of his hat, promising to be on hand for what would probably be the boisterous arrival of his sister, Meg, on the morrow.

Lady Edith retired promptly and Alison soon followed, only to spend most of the night staring at the ceiling above her bed, conjuring up visions of the imminent conversation with the Earl of Marchford. None of the scenarios she envisioned were pleasant to any degree, and when she finally fell into a fretful sleep an hour or so before dawn, her rest was disturbed by fitful dreams in which his lordship either drove her from his aunt’s home in a flaming rage or screamed her perceived iniquity from the rooftops of the Royal Crescent.

“You’re being quite absurd, my dear,” Lady Edith had told her on their return from the Upper Rooms. “But if you are frightened, I will talk to him myself.”

“No—thank you, my lady. He will want to determine my character for himself, and for this I cannot blame him. I shall see him as arranged.”

Thus, when the earl arrived at the appointed time the next morning, Alison was waiting for him in the library. She was icy with apprehension, feeling that she was congealing into a rigid pillar of pure anxiety. When he was announced, she affixed what she hoped was a confident smile to her lips and rose to greet him.

“How charming you look today. Miss Fox,” said the earl. Since she had changed her clothing four times before descending from her bedchamber in a sturdy ensemble of brown wool left over from her days at the vicarage, she was in no danger of interpreting his words as a compliment. Shooting him a sidelong glance, she contented herself with a cool, “Thank you,” and allowed him to escort her from the house.

The walk from Royal Crescent to Sydney Gardens was long and seemed even longer, but Lord Marchford had little difficulty in filling the time with light conversation. By the time they had reached Bath’s version of Vauxhall, Alison had learned more than she really cared to know about the situation in Spain, the likelihood of the Prince Regent divorcing his unattractive wife, and the difficulties posed to England’s underclass by the Corn Laws. Once inside the gate, however, he steered her with unnerving speed to a bench that was private without being indecently secluded—though, in truth, there was no one else in sight along the leafy paths at this hour of the morning.

“Now then, Miss Fox,” the earl began pleasantly, “I am not a man to waste time in unnecessary preliminaries, so let me get right to the point. You have been with my aunt for some two years, have you not? And in that time,” he continued without waiting for an answer, “you have insinuated yourself most cleverly into her affections.”

Alison resisted an urge to rise abruptly and sweep out of the gardens. She clenched her hands in her lap instead and faced Lord Marchford squarely.

“I find your tone and your words offensive, my lord. It is true that Lady Edith regards me with affection, but it is an affection that is sincerely returned. As far as insinuating myself—I began by being agreeable to her because that is what I was hired for, but before long I found her to be all that is genuinely good and kind. Now, I hold her in very high regard, and I feel honored by the kindness she has shown me. Not that it is any of your business,” she finished tartly.

“Now there you are quite wrong, Miss Fox,” he replied amiably, although Alison sensed the soft threat behind his words. “Your involvement with my aunt is very much my affair, and, though I fear it will distress you greatly, I am here to put a stop to it.”

“I’m afraid,” said Alison tightly, “that it is beyond your power, or your wealth, to put a stop to genuine friendship.”

To March it seemed as though the sky-colored eyes were suddenly tinged with thunder, and he smiled despite himself.

“Ah, yes,” he continued, “but the operative word there is ‘genuine,’ is it not? I remain unconvinced that what you feel for Lady Edith Brent is anything beyond the impending gratification of your dreams of easy wealth.”

Alison felt an urgent desire to slap Lord Marchford across his imposing jaw line, but once more she schooled herself to calm. Long ago she had discovered in herself a peculiar sensitivity to the emotions of others—even though those emotions might be masked. This ability was partially responsible for her success at the gaming tables. Now, gazing at the earl in frustrated silence, she was suddenly aware that behind the cynical sneer that accompanied his words was a very real concern for his aunt’s welfare. His love for her was patent, and, she considered ruefully, she could hardly fault him for feeling Lady Edith needed rescuing from the grasping adventuress her companion appeared to be. She sighed.

“My lord,” she began again, “I am truly not what you think me.” She ignored his quirked eyebrow. “I have no desire to rob Lady Edith of her sustenance. She has been generous to me, and she has indicated that she intends to continue her kindness. You must know,” she continued hesitantly, “that when she first broached the idea of including me so handsomely in her will, I argued against this at some length.”

“This does not surprise me,” murmured the earl. “The most successful schemers lake great pains to persuade their victims of their altruism.”

“That is very true, my lord.” Alison’s fingers were by now clenched so tightly in her tap that she thought she must be digging slits into her gloves with her nails. “But those who are sincerely altruistic behave in the same fashion, so perhaps it might be difficult to make a considered judgment on such short acquaintance.”

Again, March was unable to suppress a smile. No fool Miss Fox, he thought with reluctant admiration.

“Have you tried simply telling my aunt that you will not accept her bequest?” he asked, still in the same quiet tone.

“No. For, as a matter of fact, I have every intention of accepting it.” She sat back in some satisfaction as his brows drew together in surprise. She continued in a voice of calm reason.

“Every time I mentioned my distress at her munificence, she became distressed herself, and it was soon borne to me that the gift she is planning for me brings her a great deal of pleasure. Perhaps you have never known the joy of bringing happiness to one you love,” she concluded, turning an innocent gaze on him.

The earl flushed but said nothing for a moment. When he spoke again, he didn’t bother to conceal his anger.

“Are you saying my aunt loves you?”

“Yes,” she replied defiantly. “And though I hesitate to say it, for you will not believe me, she is family to me and I love her as well.”

“Your protestations are beyond credibility, Miss Fox,” his lordship snapped.

Alison suddenly knew a surge of exasperation. How was she ever to convince this man that her interest in Lady Edith lay not in her wealth but in the woman herself?

“Lord Marchford,” she said quietly, “I suppose there is nothing I can say to relieve you of your belief that I am a monster of iniquity, so I shall merely take my leave, informing you that I have spoken my heartfelt thanks to Lady Edith for her bequest, as well as for the fifteen hundred pounds she intends to bestow upon me at the end of the year.”

“What?” bellowed the earl, an expression of outrage on his face.

“Yes, for she knows I wish to open a school for young ladies. She has said I may leave my position at that time, but I have, of course, refused that particular offer. Oh, can’t you see?” cried Alison, her patience deserting her. “She wishes to do this. It will bring her great pleasure, and she assures me the cost to her is negligible. To me, however, it is like manna from heaven and I intend to accept her benevolence in the spirit with which it is intended. My lord,” she continued in some desperation, “my mother died when I was a small child. I was raised by my father—a wonderful man, but not a replacement for a mother. I have found in Lady Edith a warmth and an affection I never expected. Please believe me, her own daughter could not love her more than I do. In reciprocation for her generosity, I offer the only commodity at my disposal—my unstinting friendship for all the years she has left. Be assured, my lord, my hope is as genuine as that of everyone else who loves her that the day I receive her bequest will lie many years away.”

“A splendid way you have of showing your friendship, my dear,” he snarled. “Love her like a daughter, do you? Permit me to tell you the word ‘love’ is an obscenity on your lips, for daughters generally do not make a practice of grasping with despicable avidity at their mothers’ purse strings.” Drawing a deep breath, the earl continued in a milder tone. “Miss Fox, I do not propose to continue this discussion any further. I am an eminently practical man, you see, and I am prepared to offer you a thousand pounds to leave my aunt’s employ at the earliest opportunity. You will no doubt reply that this is a great deal less than you will receive from my aunt’s bequest, but I warn you that if you refuse my offer, I shall make every effort to assist my aunt in seeing your true colors. Do not,” he concluded with a narrow smile, “underestimate me, Miss Fox. I can be a formidable opponent, and I have it in my power to destroy your grand plans—and yourself as well.”

Although she had expected just such a declaration, she nonetheless felt as though he had thrown a pitcher of ice water in her face. She shivered in humiliation and rage, and it was some moments before she was able to control her voice.

“My lord, even if you were to offer me twice the sum Lady Edith has promised me, and even if Lady Edith were to unexpectedly change her mind about the bequest and the gift, I would not leave her. I will stay as long as she wants me with her.”