The Dowager's Daughter (12 page)

“I should hate to believe that of Philippe.”

“Open your eyes, Althea. He shows you no affection whatsoever. I had put his odd behavior down to shyness, but good heavens, I have yet to see him hold your hand, or give you so much as a friendly pat, much less steal a kiss.”

“He kissed me when I accepted his proposal.”

“Tell me, Althea, was it a pleasant experience?”

“Pleasant? It was the same as any other time he has kissed me.”

Celeste looked bemused. “Those cousinly pecks on the cheek? Come now, darling, he had you alone. You said you would marry him. Were you not in the least surprised that he did not seize the chance to kiss you on the lips?”

“Mama, looking back, I cannot believe how dense I was. I convinced myself that only the lower orders allowed free rein to their passions.”

“You mean men like John Soames? Oh dear, I
have
neglected your education. Darling, if
that
were the case, our sort would have died out long ago.”

“In retrospect I suppose it
does
sound foolish. I just so desperately wanted everything to be right”

Celeste responded with a giggle. “John Soames’s kisses must have been exceptionally agreeable to have inspired that mad dash for the altar with the first gentleman you could find.”

Althea thought about those kisses and smiled. “Yes, Mama, they were
wonderful.”

“Then it is agreed?”

“Hmmm?”

“Philippe has to be told that the marriage will not take place.”

Celeste signaled to the driver to bring the carriage forward, and they proceeded to St. Martin’s.

When they arrived at the church, they were surprised to see another carriage waidng outside in the care of an attendant wearing the green- and- gold livery of Philippe’s other grandfather, Baron Bainbridge.

Althea groaned. “Oh, dear. I had not counted on his grandparents being here. This is going to prove most difficult.”

Celeste squeezed her hand. “Stand your ground, darling. Remember, this is as much for Philippe’s sake as your own.”

As they entered the church vestibule, the baron came forward to greet them, the marquis following closely behind.

Althea managed a weak smile. “Lord Bainbridge. What a pleasant surprise.”

The baron looked sober. “I wish that were so. You see, Althea dear, it is my misfortune to be the bearer of bad news.”

Althea clutched her throat. “Philippe has been hurt.”

The baron shook his head. “I almost wish that were the case. It would be the only honorable reason for him not being here.”

He turned to the marquis. “Most of the responsibility for this debacle, sir, lies squarely at your door.”

On thus being attacked, the marquis seemed to sag, reminding Althea of a ragdoll that had lost some of its stuffing.

The baron turned his attention to Althea once more. “You see, two days ago Philippe eloped with a Miss Nancy Milford, the daughter of a friend of mine. He had every intention of honoring his promise to marry you on his arrival at Bainbridge, but according to the letter he left in his chamber, Miss Milford informed him that she was carrying his child.”

“How ironic,” Althea murmured, and to her own consternation began to laugh. She looked to her mother and shook her head, making a gesture that clearly stated she was helpless to do otherwise.

Celeste drew Althea into an embrace. “Ah
chérie,
this is one of life’s more delicious ironies. If nothing else, I should hope that this has taught you to leave the big problems in the lap of God.” Having said that, she, too, broke into laughter.

Philippe’s grandfathers exchanged baffled looks. Then the baron cleared his throat and with a look of deep concern, said, “I say, de Maligny, I would advise you to get your kinswomen home as quickly as possible and then summon a doctor. I fear this shocking affair has completely unhinged them.”

John ran his hands over the books in the library, delighting in the texture of their rich leather bindings. Of all the rooms in the house he had inherited from his Aunt Gertrude, the library and its contents was his favorite.

He moved over to a huge, diamond-paned window and looked outside where a garden descended to a sandy beach in a series of terraces.

“Our own hanging gardens,” his aunt used to say. “I doubt Babylon’s were any more beautiful.”

Recalling her words filled John with a bittersweet sadness. “I hope they had a garden equally as lovely waiting for you in paradise, sweet lady,” he murmured.

Beyond the gardens, Camberly Bay made a sweeping arc to the left of the house. Several fishing boats dotted the harbor and in front of one of the cottages on the shore a fisherman was mending his net.

John recalled the misery he had endured while occupying the neighboring cottage and shuddered. “Nothing you can say or do would induce me to repeat that nightmare, brother dear.”

“What nightmare might that be, old chap?”

John started at the sound of Marcus’s voice.

Marcus looked askance. “Try and pull yourself together. If you go around talking to yourself, people will think you have gone round the bend.”

John smiled, feeling a little sheepish at being caught at a disadvantage in front of his oh-so-suave older sibling.

“Where did you spring from? Reeves must be falling down on the job, leaving guests to wander about like that.”

“Do not blame Reeves. I told him I would announce myself. And besides, I am family, not company.”

Marcus joined him at the window. “I say, I do envy you your view. I have always admired the way all those towers and turrets of Camberly Hall rise above those trees across the bay.”

“That is the only part of the panorama that I would just as lief not be able to see.”

John regretted the outburst almost immediately. Marcus subjected him to a searching look. “I say, John. Cannot imagine why I did not see it right off the bat, but you look positively hag-ridden. Something happen that I should know about?”

“No. I was just reminiscing over some of the things that Aunt Gertrude used to say and do, and it saddened me.”

“You are bound to feel that way for a while. This place is full of memories. But that isn’t the reason for your dreadful appearance and you know it. I would say you have been spending a lot of time drowning your sorrows in spirits of some sort and it has to do with Camberly Hall—or more to the point, someone who lives there. The dowager is not your type, so it has to be her daughter. You are suffering from unrequited love for Althea Markham.”

“Try not to be so ridiculous. There is nothing between Althea Markham and me. She was married last Saturday, if you must know.”

“Must I?” Marcus replied, an arch expression on his face. “And how did you come to know of this?”

“Er—Reeves happened to mention it, I believe. It is hard to keep that sort of thing quiet in a village as small as Camberly.” John dropped his gaze to his shoes, shamefaced for having told a deliberate lie.

Marcus laid his hand on John’s shoulder. “You had to have obtained that piece of intelligence directly from Althea. Truth be told, she did
not
get married last Saturday.”

John shrugged free of Marcus’s hand. “She lied to me? I tell you, Marcus, the females of the species are more treacherous than snakes.”

“No more so than the males, I would venture. You see, poor Althea was left in the lurch at the altar.”

John was overcome by a wash of pity and outrage over Althea’s plight. “I say, what dastard did that? The bounder should be horsewhipped.”

“Dastard
is a strong word. The groom was her cousin, Philippe de Maligny, a mere minnow up against his barracuda of a grandfather, I fear. He told the marquis that he was in love with the daughter of one of his other grandfather’s neighbors in Bedfordshire—a young lady by the name of Nancy Milford—well dowered and everything, but the old pirate would have none of it.”

“What possible reason could that dreadful old man have for destroying his grandson’s chance for happiness?”

“One does not have to be a genius to come up with an answer. Before the revolution, the marquis was rich, powerful—a man of great consequence.” Marcus punctuated each point with a gesture. “Even in his present circumstances, his arrogance defies description. Philippe is in line for a barony, but that does not satisfy the marquis. I believe he would sacrifice his own mother if it would afford him a British earldom for his issue. Need more be said?”

“How are you privy to such knowledge?”

“I happened to call at Camberly Hall that very afternoon and Celeste confided in me.”

“And right away you told me?”

“Naturally, I presume it will go no further.”

“I should hope not. You know, Father always drummed into us that three may only keep a secret if two of them happen to be dead.”

“Now you are being tiresome. As I see it, you were the only person outside of her family who knew about Althea’s wedding. One can only conclude that you were let in on the secret as a means of softening the blow when your suit was rejected.”

John shrugged Marcus’s hand away from his shoulder. “Kindly refrain from jumping to conclusions, Marcus. It is extremely irritating.”

“Oh, stop it, John. Your feeble attempt to gammon me is beyond all reason, but I shall overlook it because you are obviously distressed and you are my brother. I would hope that you could confide in me at such a time.”

Marcus gestured toward an armchair facing the hearth. “Sit down. I shall pour us some brandy and then you may tell me what happened.”

Marcus’s voice was soothing. John capitulated and sat down as he had suggested. “You will find some very fine cognac over on the table. One of the few advantages of being a smuggler of sorts. I am more than ready for a glass or two.”

Marcus poured the amber liquid into two large crystal goblets and joined John by the hearth. He handed one of them to him. “Here. A little cognac will benefit both of us, I should imagine.”

He sat on a matching chair on the other side of the hearth, then raised his glass. “To health and happiness, John.”

John responded with a hollow laugh.

“Oh, dear. Is it as bad as all that?”

“Where would you like to me to begin?”

“I shall presume that you fell in love with Althea one night by the river on the wrong side of midnight I shall also presume that perhaps a few kisses were exchanged for you to dare to think that she would look favorably on your offer. So why not get to the part where you actually got down on your knees and asked for her hand?”

“I did not do that—get on my knees, that is, and I asked her twice. The first time
was
by the river, and we did kiss. Marcus, I will not go into the details—it would not be the thing. Just let me say that the very first time we kissed, something ignited between us. I know she felt it, too. We are so right for each other—there is no other way of putting it”

“And the second time?”

“That was on the esplanade, just before I met you at The Boar’s Head last. I cannot for the life of me fathom why I allowed things to get so out of hand. After Belinda’s perfidy I vowed I would never give another woman the opportunity to inflict that sort of damage again.”

He drank deeply of the cognac. “I do not understand, Marcus. I know Althea loves me and I told her I was well able to take care of her. Even suggested that she come live with me under my roof, but it would not do. Tell me, brother, does not anyone marry for love these days?”

Marcus smiled. “Love makes a paperscull of the best of men. It was John Soames whom Althea rejected, not John Ridley, and rightly so. As I recall you came to The Boar’s Head that afternoon looking little better than a ragpicker. Really, John, even smugglers have their standards. The poor girl probably thought you were bent on housing her in a fisherman’s cottage.”

“Where do I go from here? I doubt that Althea is receptive to anyone’s suit after being treated so shamefully. Besides, I shudder to think how she would react if she finds out I have been deceiving her all these months.”

“First of all, you
have
to tell her. Play up the fact that it was government policy to keep your identity secret”

“Then?”

“Really, John, I thought it was perfectly simple. You tell her—in your own words, of course—that you realize your courtship was a trifle precipitous and you would like to start all over. You know, get to know her better—that sort of thing.”

John groaned. “God. I think I would far rather face a cage full of lions.”

Marcus grinned. “So would I, old chap. At no time did I say it would be easy.”

Althea was sitting in her sewing room, diligently plying her needle to her embroidery. She had not made much progress with the work, having just put the final stitch to the very first rose when her mother entered and said, “There is a gentleman to see you.”

“Oh? And whom might that be?”

“I think he had better tell you himself.”

Althea felt her scalp prickle. “Mama, what sort of mischief are you up to now?”

“La,
child. You wound me. All I ask is that you hear what he has to say and give it your kind consideration. But then, I know you will do that, bless your sweet nature.”

Althea found these honeyed words downright unsettling. Of one thing she was certain—her mother could not possibly be up to anything good and there was only one way to find out what it was.

“Very well, Mama, show the gentleman in.”

Celeste left the room and John entered in her stead. At first, Althea did not recognize the impeccably dressed young man. She was too dazzled by the shine of his top boots and the cut of his fawn-colored coat to take in his features. When her gaze finally locked with his, she rose to her feet, her mouth agape.

“Mr. Soames?”

He bowed. “That is a matter I have to clear up.”

“Yes, I rather think you do, but first, may I offer you some refreshment?”

“Thank you, no. I have recently partaken of an adequate breakfast”

“Then pray be seated,” she said, and sank back into her chair.

All the time Althea was trying to observe the amenities of polite society, she was trying to make sense of the transformation that had taken place in John Soames’s appearance and manner.

His clothes not only bespoke the rank of a gentleman, they were of a quality that proclaimed his position among the very cream of the
ton.

She supposed smuggling
could
be that profitable, but seriously doubted it. Then it occurred to her that at one time or another he had discarded the soft cadence of the local yoemanry in favor of the well-modulated tones of a gentleman. John Soames had grievously deceived her.

A feeling of righteous indignation welled up in her. “It would appear that you have made me the victim of some cruel hoax, sir.”

“On my honor, Althea, I swear to you that was not my intention. When I embarked on this course of smuggling and intrigue, you were a stranger to me, a name heard mentioned only in passing. Then when I met your mother, I learned more about you.”

“There, I fear, you have the advantage of me, Mr. Soames.”

“That is a point I should clear up right away. My name is Ridley, John Ridley. Marcus is my brother.”

“I see. I am very disappointed to learn that Lord Ridley would indulge in such childish games.”

“I am sorry you see our endeavors to help our country in that light, my dear. Although I must admit to harboring doubts from time to time as to the value of the services I perform.”

John leaned forward. “Do you not see? It was necessary that I use another name. Marcus thought it might sway you to my side if I said it was at the insistence of those in government, but that was not the case.”

“I must admit, Mr. Soames—er, Ridley, I do not see at all. To me, the whole matter is completely mystifying.”

“On the contrary, Althea, I changed my name for the same reason your mother went into France disguised as a peasant—we both sought to protect our respective families. If one is caught, the enemy may well seek reprisals against one’s relations.”

Althea found his words disturbing in the extreme. On what sort of merry chase had he led Mama, with his talk of capture and retribution against loved ones?

“Mr. Ridley, I find it absolutely reprehensible that you encouraged my mother to take such risks.’’

“Encouraged your mother? Althea, both Marcus and I spent
hours
trying to talk her out of it. Do you think I relished the extra danger involved in taking a gentlewoman with me to France?”

“You could have refused.”

“I did, at first. But she was determined to make the trip with or without me.” He shrugged. “What would you have had me do? Stand by and watch while she hired the scum of the docks, who most assuredly would have murdered her for her gold and cast her body into the sea?”

“I am indebted to you for taking care of my mother, Mr. Ridley. I know only too well that once she takes the bit between her teeth, she is unstoppable.”

“Not at all, and please, Althea, call me John. Do not push me away with all that formality.”

“That is something I prefer to consider at a future date. That privilege was accorded to a Mr. Soames, a gentleman who now appears never to have existed. You, Mr. Ridley, I know not at all.”

“Ah, but you do. I am the one you kissed by the river. Remember? The moon turned the river to silver, and those kisses turned the blood in our veins to fire.”

Althea felt her cheeks turn pink. Such intemperate words for an English gentleman to be uttering! And oh, how delicious they sounded!

Looking as cold and as disapproving as she knew how, she rebuked him. “Mr. Ridley. Please comport yourself as becomes a gentleman, or I shall be prevailed upon to ask you to leave.”

To her dismay, he did not seem one whit concerned; to the contrary, his expression seemed to be one of high amusement. “I must say, Althea, you do that awfully well.”

“Do what, pray?” she replied frostily.