The Bridal Quest (17 page)

"No," she replied, and struggled to pull together the remnants of her composure. "And you doubtless find me foolish to think of such possibilities. Others have told me so, you need not reiterate it."

He paused for a moment, studying her, then asked quietly, "Is it because of your father that you have such a fear of marriage?"

Irene bridled at his words, retorting automatically, "Fear? I do not fear marriage. I look at it sensibly, that is all." But then she let out a sigh, her stiffened back relaxing a little, and she said quietly, "You knew him. You know what he was like. Obviously he must have wronged you in some way, since I found you trying to beat him into unconsciousness."

He looked at her a little quizzically. "I find it reassuring that you assumed that I went after your father because he wronged me first."

"Do not be overly proud of the matter. It was more the result of my knowledge of my father than my knowledge of you," Irene told him drily.

"I prefer to take it as a compliment, if you don't mind. Such things are hard to come by from your lips."

"You may take it any way you please," she replied, and began to stride once more down the path.

Gideon fell in beside her again, leading his mount. After a moment, he said, "I did know your father. I knew him in my world. He attacked a woman who worked for me. He had a habit of assuming that any woman who made her living dealing faro in a gambling den was available to him in other ways." His mouth tightened. "When she refused him, he hit her."

"And that is why you came to our house?"

He nodded. "Yes. But I must be fair and admit that the actions of a man in my part of London are not necessarily his actions among his own kind. In his family."

"I cannot answer for how he was among his peers, but I know how he treated those he considered his inferiors, and I can tell you that his wife and children were among that group. My mother is a woman of great patience and sweetness, but he constantly found fault with her. I do not know what she was like before she came under his power, but I know that around him, she was fearful and timid, uncertain about everything she said or did. None of us ever knew what might set him off. He would go for days, weeks, and do no more than roar about this or that 'mistake' one of us made. Then he would suddenly lash out and hit my mother for the least thing."

"I am sorry."

"It is over now. As you might imagine, I did not mourn his death overmuch."

His jaw tightened as he went on. "Did he hit you?"

"Once or twice he knocked me aside. I am not sure he intended to hurt me, as he was often clumsy with drink. He was, I think, in some way a little proud of me. I did not cower from him. He could not reduce me to tears or shakes, as he could Mother or Humphrey."

Gideon smiled faintly. "I am sure you were a little lioness."

She shrugged. "I saw early on that it only made him worse if one showed fear. It is much the same principle with animals, I think. But I did not need to feel his hand to know what the results of his anger were. I saw what he did to my mother often enough. I knew he was worse with her because she was his wife. She told me once what a fine gentleman he had been when he wooed her, how he had extolled her charms, her virtues. It was only after they were married that he found her foolish."

Irene glanced over at Gideon. She was a little surprised at herself for telling him about her father. Such stories were not something she normally shared with anyone. She was not sure why it was easier to tell him—perhaps because he had known her father's wickedness personally, or because the life he had lived had been far rougher than that of anyone else she knew, or simply because she sensed that any secrets would safely remain with him. Still, she could not help but wonder if he would look at her a little differently now. Men did not like a woman with too much knowledge of the darker side of the world.

Gideon stopped, reaching out to take her arm and turn her to face him. "Not all men are like your father, you know. Many men treasure their wives. They treat them with great care, even tenderness."

"I am no precious jewel," Irene replied bluntly, "to be coddled and wrapped in fine silk. No man would think it, and even if he were
foolish
enough to believe it, I can assure you that I would soon set him straight about the matter. I am, I suspect, more of a thorn in one's side."

She started to pull away, but he held her firm, saying flatly, "Do not mistake me for your father. Or for other men."

Irene raised her eyes, glinting golden in the afternoon sun, and stared at him. "I do not. But if I am wrong, I would not know until it was too late. I assure you, sir, I will not change my mind. I cannot marry you."

* * * * *

She parted from Gideon not long afterward. He went on to visit his holdings, and she walked back to the house, a little surprised by the vague feeling of sadness that hung over her. She felt sure that she must have gotten through to him this time; he would cease his pursuit of her and turn his interest to the women who would attend the party next week. She ought to be relieved, she told herself, not despondent.

Yet, despite her best efforts, she could not seem to dispel the downcast mood. She spent much of the afternoon in her room, staring moodily out the window. Somehow, she thought, she must have let herself slip into some silly girlish dream of love. Why else had she allowed Francesca and the others to talk her into buying those attractive new gowns?

Why else had she agreed to travel to Radbourne Park? Why else had she allowed Maisie to change her hairstyle?

Well, that had changed. She had set things straight with Gideon this afternoon. And tonight she would do her hair as she had done it for years, and she would wear one of her older dresses down to dinner. She had done the right thing, and she would soon be back in her usual spirits.

She did as she had planned, choosing a brown bombazine that had been enlivened only a little with lace at the neck and cuffs, and turning away Maisie's offer to put her hair up in the style she had worn last night.

Nor did she go down to supper early tonight, waiting instead until she heard Francesca leave her room, then joining her. In this way, she managed to avoid having to come face-to-face with Gideon before they all went in to supper. There, she knew, she would be distant enough from him that she would not have to talk to him.

Supper moved along at a glacial pace, seeming even slower due to the lack of conversation—except for that of Lady Odelia, of course, who could apparently always be counted upon to find something to talk about if she so desired.

Late in the course of the meal, however, Gideon spoke up, surprising everyone, as he had not joined the conversation before that point. "Grandmother, I should tell you that I have invited another guest to the party next week."

Irene saw little to shock anyone in such a pronouncement, but his words seemed to stun both Lady Radbournes, as well as Lady Pencully. The three of them turned to look at him, eyes wide and mouths ajar.

"I beg your pardon?" Lady Odelia said at last.

"I have invited one of my friends to join us next week. Piers Aldenham. The party is rather overweighted with ladies. It seemed a good idea to add another man to the group. After all, there will be dancing." When none of the women said anything, simply continuing to stare at him in amazement and, Irene thought, horror, Gideon continued blandly. "I have already informed the butler and housekeeper, of course, so you needn't worry about that. But I thought I should let you know, as well, as you might need to make adjustments to your plans."

After a long moment Lady Odelia said, "A friend of yours? What do you mean? Someone you knew—before?"

"Precisely. Mr. Aldenham and I have been friends for, oh, ten or so years, I should say. I will be pleased to introduce him to you."

Teresa and Pansy both turned to Lady Odelia, who looked back at them, eyebrows raised, then returned her gaze to Lord Radbourne.

"You cannot be serious," she told him flatly.

"Indeed, I am."

"That is absurd! You cannot introduce one of ... of ... those people you used to know to the people we have invited."

"I cannot?" Gideon's voice was mild, but Irene detected an iron tone that seemed to escape his great-aunt completely.

Irene glanced across the table at Francesca, who was watching the exchange with interest, then returned her gaze to Lady Odelia.

"No, of course not," Lady Odelia boomed, looking as if she thought she were on firmer ground now. "You should have consulted me before you asked him. I would have told you that it would not do. It is very good of you, I am sure, to remember those people, but you cannot expect them to mingle with our sort."

"Indeed. So they will shun him, you think?" He continued meditatively. "It is a good thing then, I suppose, that Piers is not easily cast down."

"No, Gideon. You misunderstand me. You cannot invite him. You must send another note, telling him not to come. Perhaps next time you are in London you may visit with him."

"No, Aunt." Gideon's voice was level, but his eyes were cold as stone. "I fear it is you who misunderstand. I have invited him. He is coming here."

Lady Odelia gaped at him. Finally she snapped her mouth shut with a clack, then said, "No. I forbid it."

"You forbid it?" Gideon repeated, but his silky tone did not deceive Irene.

Lady Odelia regarded her great-nephew sternly. The woman was, Irene thought, in for something of a surprise.

"My lady." Gideon leaned forward slightly, and his words, cool and careful, dropped like hard stones from his mouth. "I fear that I have given you the wrong impression. I have gone along with your plans for my future because they coincided with my own intentions. Unfortunately, my acquiescence seems to have given you the impression that I have turned over the running of my life and this household to you. Allow me to remind you that Radbourne Park belongs to me, and that you and everyone else in this room are staying here on my sufferance. I will invite who I want to this house whenever I choose to do so. And while I will show you the respect your age and familial ties deserve, I am not now and never will be subject to your command. Piers will arrive here next week, and I expect him to be treated with courtesy. I hope I have made myself clear."

Lady Odelia, for once in her life, had no answer. She simply stared at Gideon, gaping.

He waited for a moment, then inclined his head briefly. "Ladies. As I am the only man present tonight, I believe I will take my port in my study. Excuse me."

He rose and strode from the room.

The stunned silence continued after his departure. Finally Francesca took a sip of her wine, then said, "Well, one can certainly see the Lilles blood in him."

Irene let out a chuckle, quickly covering her mouth with her napkin.

"What are we to do?" Teresa wailed, looking wildly around the table.

"It doesn't seem to me that you have much choice," Irene commented.

"You!" Teresa whirled on her. "Oh, yes, it's well enough for you. You won't be the one who is humiliated."

"Oh, dear," Pansy said anxiously, her eyes tearing up. "I'm afraid he's terribly angry with us now. Odelia ..." She turned imploringly toward her older sister.

"Well." Lady Odelia looked shaken. "Well. He is an ungrateful pup, is he not? I have half a mind to wash my hands of him and go back to Pencully Hall."

"No! Odelia!" Pansy cried out, and now the tears spilled over, running down her cheeks. "Please, don't leave us with him."

Lady Odelia's face softened, and she reached out to pat her sister's hand. "There, there, now, Pansy, you know I shall not desert you. If I decide to go, you may come with me."

"Lady Radbourne," Irene said to Pansy, "I should not worry, if I were you. I do not believe, that Lord Radbourne would harm you in any way. He does not strike me as a man who is spiteful."

"Of course he will not hurt you, Pansy," Lady Odelia told her sister. "Though I fear he is becoming recalcitrant." Her brow knitted in thought. "Why is he digging in his heels now?"

"Perhaps, my lady, he has simply become tired of being told what to do," Irene suggested. "No man of my acquaintance would meekly accept being told that he could not invite whom he wanted to his own party."

"There was something about him of our father, wasn't there, Pansy?" Lady Odelia said reflectively.

Pansy's only reply was a small moan of distress.

"Well," Lady Odelia went on. "Clearly the Ferrington chit will not do. No spine at all—she would never be able to direct him. Pity ... Ah, well, good thing we have you, Irene."

"Excuse me?" Irene replied, facing Lady Odelia. "My lady, I meant what I said. I have no intention of marrying Lord Radbourne."

"Yes, well." Lady Odelia shrugged dismissively. "Easy enough to say, my girl. But we have all seen the way you jump to his defense."

"I was only being fair," Irene replied with some heat. "It does not mean I—I—have feelings for the man."

"Hmm. I suppose." Lady Odelia gave her a patronizing smile. "Still, I hope that you wake up to the truth ... before Gideon gives up and chooses one of those other girls."

Irene was wise enough to know that Lady Odelia was baiting her. She hoped, no doubt, to make Irene jealous with the mention of the other women and the suggestion that Lord Radbourne might choose one of them instead.

Irene, however, had no intention of being manipulated by Lady Odelia or anyone else. She reminded herself that it made no difference to her whether Gideon chose another woman for his wife, though she was honest enough to admit that she had felt a twinge of what she supposed might be jealousy at the thought of him marrying another. After all, over the course of the time she had been here, she had begun to like Gideon, and she could not help but think that if she were of a mind to marry, he might well be the man she would choose. And it was a rather heady sensation to be pursued by so eligible and attractive a man as Lord Radbourne.

But she was not going to marry, and she was not so weak as to allow her mind to be swayed by feelings of lust or pride. She sincerely hoped that she was not so ignoble as to wish for him not find happiness with some other woman if she herself would not marry him. So she was determined to ignore the little barbs that afflicted her now and then when she looked at Gideon and thought of him wooing another.

She stayed steadfast in her decision to quell the vanity that had inspired her to wear prettier dresses and arrange her hair in a soft, inviting style. There was no point in attracting Gideon's attention; indeed, it worked against her wishes. Moreover, she felt that returning to her old style sent an overt message to him and the matchmakers that she had no intention of trying to catch his favor.

They continued with the dancing lessons, as well as the rather stilted conversations between the three of them that were meant to improve the earl's social skills, but Irene made sure to maintain a correct distance between herself and Gideon, as well as a rather formal tone. She noticed a certain puzzlement in Francesca's eyes and an irritating amusement in his, but she strove not to let his attitude bother her. No doubt he wanted to goad her into one of their arguments. However, she was as aware as he that their arguments always resulted in an upheaval of emotions and produced a sort of intimacy that her pleasant-but-distant attitude discouraged.

Over the course of the next few days they developed a loose schedule of working in the mornings, then stopping their lessons just before luncheon. In the afternoons Gideon disappeared into his office or on business about the estate, and Francesca and Irene were left on their own to do as they wished—at least sometimes. Francesca spent much of her time helping with the plans for the upcoming week, and as a consequence, Irene often found herself involved in the preparations, as well.

Since interminable conversations regarding seating arrangements, floral decorations, menus and music bored her almost past bearing—and conversations about the merits of the various possible brides for Gideon were irritating in the extreme—Irene often avoided the drawing room after lunch, secreting herself in the library with a book or occupying herself in her room with the needlepoint she had been halfheartedly working on for the past month, or writing a letter to a friend or her brother.

She would have preferred to take a long walk, but after her experience the first day she was at Radbourne Park, she had been reluctant to run the risk of running into Gideon. However, she grew more and more restless, so on her fourth afternoon of inactivity, she decided that a walk through the gardens would be safe enough. After all, if Gideon was locked up in his study or out looking at his lands, he would not be idling about in the gardens. And in just a few more days the other guests would begin arriving, which Irene feared meant that she would rarely have much chance to be by herself.

She pulled her bonnet off the shelf and slipped out the back entrance onto the terrace, then down the steps into the upper garden, where she wandered onto the path, tying the strings of her hat as she went. With no destination in mind, she randomly took whatever paths forked off, looking at the autumn flowers. She stepped through a lattice archway, covered in ivy, and on the other side, as she turned to go through a gap in a hedge, she stopped.

There, in front of her, a small boy was crouched, intently studying the progress of a snail across the path. He whirled at the sound of her approach, looking alarmed. But when he saw her, he relaxed and stood up.

"Sorry," Irene said, smiling reassuringly. "I did not mean to frighten you."

"I thought you were Miss Tyning," he told her confidentially. He was a pleasant-looking, sturdy lad of five, with a thatch of sandy hair and a sprinkling of freckles across his snub nose. His eyes were the same light blue as Teresa's, confirming Irene's guess that this must be Timothy, Teresa's son, who had been rather inexplicably invisible since her arrival.

"She is my governess," he went on to explain. "And she will be ever so annoyed when she wakes up and sees that I've gone. But it was much too pretty a day to stay inside."

"Much too pretty," Irene agreed solemnly.

He regarded her for a moment. "You are the lady come to marry Gideon, aren't you?"

Irene lifted her eyebrows. "I am Lady Irene Wyngate. I am here to help his lordship, but no, I have no plans to marry him."

"That is what Mama says. She said it would never happen. But Lady Pencully said it would. And people always do what Lady Pencully wants."

"Indeed?" Irene smiled faintly. "I imagine they do, most of the time. But I think, this once, she will not get her way."

"Really? I hope not. I don't want Gideon to marry. Mama says that if he does, that will be the end of me."

"The end of you?" Irene repeated, shocked. "Whatever do you mean?"

Again he shrugged. "I don't know." He paused, then confided, "I think she does not like Gideon." He heaved a little sigh. "She does not like for me to be with him. But I like Gideon." His face lit up as he went on. "He is my brother, you know. I didn't have a brother until he came."

"It's very nice to have a brother," Irene commented. "I have one, too."

"Really? Is he as big as Gideon?"

"No, I do not think so. Your brother is rather large."

"I know. He says that I will be large one day, too. I hope so. I would like that."

"I imagine he is right. Your uncle Jasper is tall, as well."

Timothy nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, he is. Uncle Jasper is nice. But not as nice as Gideon. He doesn't say much to me. Mama doesn't like Uncle Jasper, either. But I don't think he's bad. Do you?"

"I don't know him well enough to say. Nothing about him struck me as bad, though. He is a little quiet and stiff."

"Gideon is much better," Timothy circled back to what was apparently one of his favorite subjects. "He likes to see the things I collect. Rocks and bugs and such. Sometimes in the afternoon he comes through the garden. That's why I come down here when Miss Tyning falls asleep."

"I see." Irene cast a look around, her heart suddenly picking up its beat.
Drat the man! Must he be everywhere?
"Do you think that he will be here today?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Perhaps I should go back into the house then—so that you and your brother can have your talk."

"He won't mind that you're here," Timothy assured her. "He likes people."

"Really?" This was a side of Gideon Irene had never noticed.

Timothy nodded. "He always talks to the gardeners and the grooms. Sometimes, when I sneak down to the kitchen for a snack, he's down there, talking and laughing with the cooks and the footmen and all. Except Horroughs." The boy pulled his face into a fair approximation of the butler's taut face. "I don't think Horroughs likes him."

"I'm not sure Horroughs likes anyone," Irene commented.

Timothy giggled and began to jump, chanting, "Horroughs doesn't like anyone. Horroughs doesn't like anyone."

Irene watched the boy's antics, smiling. It was hard to imagine this cheerful, lively child being Teresa's son. Irene hoped that he would manage to remain relatively unspoiled by his mother's influence. At least he seemed to have disregarded her when it came to Gideon.

Because of the noise Timothy was making, she did not hear the crunch of boots along the path until they sounded right behind her. She whipped around to see Gideon stepping through the ivy-clad trellis that she had passed under a few moments earlier. He stopped when he saw her.

"Ah. Lady Irene. I wondered who Timothy was talking to."

"Lord Radbourne." She had delayed too long, she thought. She should have left as soon as Timothy had raised the possibility of Gideon appearing.

It occurred to her that he might think she had come this way in an effort to meet him. There were women, she knew, who spent a great deal of time making careful, precise plans to run into a man "accidentally". The practice was particularly in use at house parties.

"I was just out for a stroll when I ran into Master Timothy," she explained, then instantly regretted that she sounded as if she were making excuses for herself.

"I told her you might come," Timothy said, jumping happily into the conversation. "And you did!"

"Yes, I did. I am doubly glad that I did so now, as I get to see both you and Lady Irene." Gideon's face softened as he looked down at the boy, and he smiled, his usual wariness falling away. "What have you got to show me today?"

Gideon squatted down beside the boy to be face-to-face with him. Timothy smiled and began to dig in his pockets, pulling forth a variety of treasure: rocks, marbles, a ha'penny, a bent and rusty nail and an old key.

"My, look at that," Gideon commented, inspecting the items gravely. He picked up the key. "This looks as though it has been around for a long time. Someone must have been unhappy, don't you think, years ago when they lost it?"

Timothy nodded and began to explain when and where he had found each of the things he had deemed worthy of being shown to Gideon. When he had finished this rambling discourse, he pulled Gideon over to show him the snail he had been watching earlier, only to find that the creature had finally made its way across the path and had disappeared beneath a bush.

Irene, watching the two of them, was amazed at both Gideon's patience with the boy and his obvious affection for him. She would have said there was no softness in him, especially after the blunt set-down he had given the other evening to Lady Odelia.

But there was no hint of the autocrat in the man who listened so carefully to the small boy. Nor would she have guessed that the man she saw now would be intent on marrying for such cool, unemotional, businesslike purposes.

Gideon turned and saw her watching them, and he smiled at her. Her heart did a little turn in her chest as the full force of his easy, unfettered, genuinely happy smile hit her. The cold, hard angles of his face changed into a handsomeness that was both warm and compelling, pulling her in, and she could not have kept from smiling back at him even if she had wanted to.

Gideon rose lithely to his feet. "Well, much as I enjoy talking with you, Timothy, and seeing your treasures, I suspect that the excellent Miss Tyning is no doubt searching madly for you. We should take you back to the house."

The boy gave in without much complaining, and they turned to go back down the path. Gideon paused beside Irene. "Won't you walk with us, my lady?"

"Yes, do," Timothy added, reaching out to take Irene's hand. He looked back toward Gideon and added confidingly, "I like her. She didn't scold me for getting dirty." He pointed toward the smudges on his knees where he had knelt on the path.

"Lady Irene is a jewel among women," Gideon agreed, casting an amused glance at her.

"I don't think she likes Horroughs, either," Timothy went on.

At that statement, Gideon chuckled. "Then she is definitely worthy of our friendship."

Timothy smiled happily. "I knew you'd like her." He turned to look up at Irene. "Are you going to come live here, too?"

Irene ignored the sideways look Gideon sent her and told Timothy, "I am merely visiting. I shall be here only for a week or two."

"Oh." Timothy looked downcast.

They emerged into the upper garden. As soon as they did, they saw a thin, nervous-looking woman in a plain brown bombazine dress hurrying along the main path, glancing anxiously down each row of shrubs she passed.

When the woman saw them, she let out a cry and hurried in their direction. "Master Timothy! There you are!"

She came to a stop before them, managing to look both furious at Timothy's escape and cowed by the sight of the Earl of Radbourne.

"I beg your pardon, my lord. I am so sorry if the boy has troubled you. I promise you it will not happen again," she said in a rush, reaching out to grab Timothy's other hand.

Irene gave Timothy's hand a reassuring squeeze before she released it, but in fact, she could not see that he looked particularly frightened at the prospect of his governess's wrath.

"Miss Tyning!" A shrill voice issued from above them on the terrace.

They all looked up and saw Lady Teresa standing there, her pretty doll-like features twisted into an expression of venom. She lifted her skirts and hurried down the steps toward them.

"Have you lost track of him again, Miss Tyning?" she exclaimed as she drew near, her voice high and shrewish. "I cannot conceive how a grown woman can be so easily outwitted by a five-year-old boy!"