Lady Barbara's Dilemma (13 page)

“Of course, independence need not preclude a close relationship with someone of the opposite sex.”

“I do not see why it should,” conceded Deborah.

“I am glad to hear that, Miss Cohen,” David replied. Deborah wondered if there was a deeper meaning to this exchange and spent the next few days after their outing alternating between hope, despair, and ironic self-castigation for her own foolishness.

David’s calls to the East End had not gone unnoticed, and one day, over afternoon sherry, his father remarked upon his now regular absences.

“I assume it is a woman, David?”

“Why, yes, Father,” replied his son coolly.

“It cannot be anyone your mother and I know, or surely you would have mentioned her name.”

“No, you are right, it is no one you know.”

“It is, of course, quite natural to have a mistress. But we were hoping, your mother and I, that you would soon be thinking of settling down and raising a family.”

“Miss Cohen is not my mistress, Father.” Yet, he added to himself. He certainly could not deny that he wanted her more each time he saw her. But she was a respectable woman, was Deborah Cohen, and he did not know if he had any chance of persuading her to a kiss, much less a liaison.

“Miss Cohen?” said his father.

“Miss Deborah Cohen. She is the daughter of a wholesaler in the East End.”

“You are surely not considering anything serious with her, are you, David? We have not worked all these years to achieve a place in society only to have it thrown away. I was hoping, in fact, that you found Lord Sedgewick’s daughter attractive.”

“Yes, I know,” David replied through gritted teeth.

“Marriage to a Christian woman would guarantee your children’s future, David.”

“It is not so much Lady Emily I find unattractive as her family. Her father is both a drinker and a gambler, and her mother is well-known for her indiscriminate choice of lovers.”

“Ah, but the title is an old one. Our money for their title—a common enough bargain and you know it. But the Duke of Andlem has also made overtures to me, so it need not be Lady Emily if you don’t like her. She is a bit young and spotty, I admit.”

David had long been aware of his father’s plans for him and had never questioned them. After all, the more secure a position in society he achieved, the better he would be able to effect political reform. But for some reason, today the thought of marrying some destitute nobleman’s daughter galled him.

“I assure you, Father, I have not forgotten my obligations. Miss Cohen is someone I met by chance. I enjoy her company, and I like being able to do her the favor of getting her out of Mitre Street occasionally.”

“No need to become agitated, my boy. I am sure you know what you are doing.”

* * * *

Actually, David was not at all sure he knew what he was doing. He had told part of the truth: he did enjoy Deborah’s company and he did like to think he was making her life a little more enjoyable. But the more he saw her, the more he wanted to touch her, and the more frustrated he was with Sarah’s presence. He didn’t think he had a snowball’s chance in hell of making her his mistress, but surely a kiss or two should not be impossible to bring about.

Accordingly, on his next visit he brought his niece’s governess with him.

“This is Miss Crewe, Sarah. We are going to Kew Gardens today, and she has brought all kinds of sketching materials and will give you a lesson in botanical drawing.” David tried to be matter-of-fact with his announcement, but the sharp look Deborah gave him made him feel obvious. Sarah, however, was delighted. She had never had paper or paint available to her, and so she skipped happily along, looking for some “botanicals” to draw.

David let them get far ahead and guided Deborah to a bench in a secluded corner of the herb garden. It was a warm and sunny afternoon and the steady hum of bees and the faint scent of mint combined to relax Deborah’s guard.

David looked down at her ink-stained hands, which rested quietly in her lap. He lifted one gently and brought it up for closer inspection.

“You have clerk’s hands, Miss Cohen,” he teased.

“As well I should, Sir David, keeping the ledgers as I do.”

David bent down and kissed her fingers. Deborah started to pull away and protest, but David leaned down before she could utter a word and covered her lips with his.

To her shame, her protest died in her throat. The warmth of the sun, the bees, the spicy smell of the garden, had all combined to relax her, and the kiss undid her resolve. She had been wanting him to touch her for weeks. Not that she wanted to want him. But she did, beyond all reason.

David pulled back and smiled at the sight of her, eyes closed, face upturned.

“Do you always enjoy kissing that much, Miss Cohen?”

Deborah’s eyes opened and she blushed a deep red. “No…I haven’t done much kissing,” she whispered. “But yes. I seem to enjoy it.”

“We will have to remedy your lack of experience, then,” said David, and pulled her closer.

Deborah wanted the next kiss to last forever, but David pulled away again.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t…stop.”

David smiled down at her red head bent down in embarrassment at her own desire, and gently stroked the nape of her neck. Deborah felt small shivers go through her whole body.

“I have been wanting to kiss you for a long time. Miss Cohen. And now that I have, I want to go on kissing you. But I don’t think I should.”

“I know.”

“What do you know?”

“I know what you want.”

“I don’t know how you could, when
I
don’t. One thing I do know: I cannot take advantage of you,” he said with a groan.

“I wish you could,” replied Deborah, lifting her head.

“Do you?”

“No, not really,” she said, some of her old spirit in her voice. “A part of me would like to be your mistress, Sir David, but I am too much the good accounting clerk to allow myself. I can see the debits and credits, and believe me, it would be me who ended up bankrupt,” she added bitterly.

“You are correct. A respectable woman like yourself needs a husband, not a protector, however loving.”

“I don’t need your protection, thank you,” said Deborah, moving away from him so she would not be tempted to give in and pull him down into another kiss.

“What shall we do, then, Miss Cohen? I very much enjoy your company. I have felt we could be friends, if nothing else.”

“I have enjoyed these afternoons too, Sir David. But everything has changed, and I don’t know if I should continue to see you.”

“Well, I most certainly can’t bring Miss Crewe again. Sarah can go back to being your chaperon, should you come out with me again. I promise we will not be too private.”

“Let me think about it, please.”

“All right, Miss Cohen. I do care about you, you know.” But not in the way I am beginning to care about you, she thought as they rose to meet Sarah, who was running across the grass with her drawings in her hand.

Barbara spent a few more days at Arundel before returning to Ashurst for what was left of the summer. They were quiet days, spent with Wardour and his mother, with a short visit to the vicar breaking the pleasant monotony. She found it hard to leave, for she had begun to feel at home and wished she were safely married already. Why it felt unsafe to be unmarried wasn’t a matter she wished to explore at any length.

The morning she left, she and Lady Wardour had tears in their eyes, and when Peter bade her good-bye, she clung to him in a manner most unlike her.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked.

“I just wish you could come with me and we would just continue on to Gretna,” she answered.

Wardour smiled. “There is nothing I would like better, Barbara, but you know it is impossible. Come, cheer up! We will be wed in less than three months.”

“I know I am being foolish. But it has been such a lovely visit and I am finding it hard to leave, now that I have come to know my new home.”

“I am sorry that leaving makes you sad, but it is just what I hoped would happen if you visited, that you would come to feel Arundel was home. Now, in you go.”

Barbara leaned out the window and waved until they were out of sight. She was very eager to be settled, to be mistress of Arundel and to be Wardour’s wife and experience more than his kisses.

She didn’t want to be returning to Ashurst, much as she loved it. She didn’t want to be traveling north, for traveling in that direction reminded her of Mr. Gower, whom she needed to forget.

When she arrived home, she noticed that all the servants seemed subdued. It wasn’t that they weren’t happy to see her, but kept looking to the right and left of her, as though avoiding her face. She washed and changed quickly and went downstairs to look for her brother.

Barbara found both Robin and Diana sitting quietly next to one another on the sofa in the library. Robin was absentmindedly stroking Diana’s hair, and both looked more serious than Barbara had ever seen them.

“Is there something wrong, Robin? Not…not one of the children?”

“No, the twins are fine, Barbara,” her brother assured her. “Come sit down.”

“Then what is it? Something is very wrong, I can feel it.”

“We just received word yesterday from Sutton…”

“Judith? The baby?”

“According to the letter, the baby came early…it was a difficult delivery…and…”

“And Simon is in danger of losing both of them.” Diana finished what Robin couldn’t.

“Why, she was not due for another month,” protested Barbara, as though there were someone somewhere she could complain to rationally. She got up immediately. “I must go to her.”

“We were only waiting for you to arrive, my dear,” said Robin. “The carriage is ready.”

All Barbara could think about as they drove to Sutton was her first days at school. She had been tall and gangly and shy. It had seemed that all the girls stared and giggled and whispered except for one small freckle-faced young woman who approached her and helped her find her room, and her place at table, and who cheered her up by saying, “Don’t mind them. They’ll stop staring by the end of the week and become friends. They’re like this every time someone new arrives.”

But Barbara already knew that she didn’t want one of those vapid daughters of the
ton
for a friend. She had found her friend in Judith Ware. And had kept her over the years, despite distance and difference in rank. She felt ashamed of her recent anger at Judith, and her jealousy, and had the irrational sense that it was her resentment that had somehow caused this tragedy.

What would life be like without Judith to confide in? She hadn’t confided much of her recent feelings, it was true, but she had been looking forward to a comfortable visit after the baby was born, when she could share both her happiness with Peter and her confused feelings about Alec Gower. To whom else could she ever admit her attraction to a wandering musician?

By the time they reached Sutton it was late afternoon. Barbara was terrified. What if the door opened and the butler was wearing a black armband? Please, God, please, spare my dear friend, she said over and over to herself as they walked up the front steps.

But the butler was not wearing black, and his face was creased in a smile that went from ear to ear. He ushered them into the drawing room, where Francis, the duke’s secretary, was waiting.

“Cranston was smiling. He is either gone mad with grief—or is there good news?” asked Robin.

“Good news,” said Francis quietly. “But it has been thirty-six hours of hell here, I assure you.”

“What went wrong, Francis?” inquired Diana.

“Judith slipped going down the stairs out to the garden and her fall evidently brought on a premature labor. The baby was born five hours later. He was very tiny and weak, and she was hemorrhaging terribly. The doctor thought we might lose both of them.”

“He, Francis? Then it was a boy. Judith was so sure. How is she dealing with the loss?” asked Barbara.

Francis rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked at her, puzzled. “Loss?”

“You said the baby was very tiny…”

“Oh, yes, and he still is small and weak, Lady Barbara, but the doctor managed to save both of them.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Barbara, tears of joy and relief streaming down her face. “Where is Simon? Can I see Judith?”

“The duke is in the nursery with Lady Sophy. You may go up, if you wish. Her grace is sleeping right now, but perhaps this evening…”

Barbara took the stairs two at a time, feeling as if she could fly. The door to the nursery was open halfway and she could hear Sophy humming quietly to herself. As she slipped in, Sophy looked up and raised her finger to her lips.

“My papa is very tired, Auntie Barbara. We mustn’t wake him.”

Simon was stretched out on the window seat, sound asleep. His clothes looked as if they hadn’t been changed in a week, and his face was rough with stubble. It was only then, as she looked at him, that Barbara was able to imagine what the loss of Judith would have meant to him.

“My mama is sleeping too, and my new baby brother.” Sophy’s lower lip trembled.

Barbara opened her arms. “And here you are all alone, entertaining yourself, you brave girl. Come, sit on my lap and give me a hug.”

Sophy crept onto Barbara’s lap and clung to her. Barbara kissed the top of her head and felt the little girl’s shoulders begin to shake.

“There, there, everything is all right now.”

“But it wasn’t for a long and scary time, Aunt Barb. And I’m afraid my mama has gone away after all.”

“No, no, she really is just sleeping. Haven’t you seen her?”

“No one would let me, Aunt Barb.”

“No, I suppose not. I’ll tell you what. Let us go down to the kitchen and get cook to make us some chocolate. Then, when you feel better, we’ll tiptoe up to your mama’s room and you can give her a kiss.”

“Oh, thank you, Aunt Barb.” Sophy gave her a hug. “Should we leave Papa here alone?”

“I think he needs the rest, Sophy. And he can find his way down when he wakes up.”