The Gilded Web (29 page)

“Is it used?” she asked.

“It was every morning during my grandfather's and my father's time,” he said. “The servants were required to drop whatever they were doing when the bell rang and assemble there for devotions. I dropped the custom two years after I succeeded to the title.”

“Why?” she asked. “Do you not feel a responsibility for the spiritual welfare of your servants?”

“No,” he said. “One's spiritual welfare is a personal matter. I could force my servants to come to chapel and behave devoutly. Would I be bringing them closer to God? I think it unlikely. I have made it known that anyone may use the chapel at any time, from myself on down to the lowliest scullery maid. I have on occasion encountered a servant at prayer there.”

“Papa would not agree with you,” she said.

“And you?” he asked.

“I don't know,” she said. “For all my religious devotions and all the importance of religion to my life, I do not believe I have ever felt close to God. Or really wished to be. I can never be worthy of God.”

“But of course not,” he said. “He does not expect us to be. You must go into the chapel, Alex. Go alone. If there is daylight outside, you will see that you are among the hills. If not, then you can remind yourself that you are. You will feel incredibly close to God. And you will realize that he is not a God of censure and vengeance. Those qualities are for men who habitually misunderstand God. God is love. Nothing else. Just simply that.”

“It would not work,” she said. “Love alone would not work. There would be chaos.”

“Yes,” he said. “There was the crucifixion. A chaotic end for a messiah. But there was also the resurrection. Love triumphant, you see.”

It was a sweet, seductive theory. But far too simple to represent an absolute truth. Alexandra smiled ruefully and turned away from the window.

“Madeline and Lord Eden and James will be waiting for me,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “I must not keep you from your ride. The sea will look splendid from the cliffs this morning in the sunlight.”

He led her back to the marble hall, where the three riders were indeed awaiting her. Talking to them were Howard Courtney and his sister.

Howard bowed and looked awkward when he saw the earl.

“Howard has business here with Spiller, Edmund,” Lord Eden said. “Susan was sent by Mrs. Courtney to satisfy herself that the ladies have taken no harm from their exertions of last evening. We have prevailed upon her to come riding with us. I have already sent to the stables to have a horse saddled. Do you not envy Purnell and me? We are to have three ladies between the two of us. That is what I call fair odds.” He grinned and looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

“I could not possibly allow you such a triumph, Dom,” his brother said with a laugh. “Give me ten minutes and I shall make a sixth. The village will not run away if I postpone my visit for one day or even perhaps half a day.” He smiled down at Alexandra.

“I never expected any such outing, my lord,” Susan said, looking up at Lord Eden with her large hazel eyes and glancing up under her lashes at James Purnell. “I expected everyone to be still abed. I would have been quite happy to take tea with the housekeeper while Howard was busy with the bailiff.”

“How glad I am that we had not already left,” Lord Eden said, smiling dazzlingly at her. “I would have been out of all charity with Mrs. Oats if she had had you all to herself for the next hour. Howard, you may return home when your business is done. I shall see that Susan is returned safely to her mama.”

L
ORD EDEN QUICKLY FORGOT ANY ANNOYANCE he might have felt at having his plans for a private talk with Alexandra thwarted. It was, after all, a beautiful summer's day, and he had a pretty girl riding at his side, protesting blushingly that she should have declined joining the outing because she was not properly dressed for it. He was able to assure her in all truth that she made a charming picture on horseback in her light muslin dress and straw bonnet. There was plenty of time to spend with Miss Purnell.

He and Susan fell a little behind the others as they rode up the tree-shaded roadway on the western side of the valley.

“Well, Susan,” he said, “you were much in demand last night. I was disappointed to find it impossible to have a second dance with you.”

“All the gentlemen were most obliging,” she said with a blush.

“And will you tell me now that I do not have to compete with a uniform?” he asked with a grin. “I thought that Captain Forbes and Lieutenant Jennings would come to blows over who should lead you into the final set.”

“The lieutenant is Baron Renfrew's brother,” she said. “I was never more surprised in my life. Do you know him, my lord?”

“Never heard of him,” he said.

“He said that I dance more gracefully than all the ladies at Almack's,” she said. “But I think he was flattering me. That cannot be true.”

“I have not danced with all the ladies at Almack's,” Lord Eden said. “But I tell you what, Susan. I have
seen
all the ladies at Almack's, and there is none prettier than you.”

“Oh,” she said, looking at him sidelong beneath her lashes, “you are funning me. I am not a grand lady. My gowns are not as fashionable as Lady Madeline's or my hair stylish. I am only the daughter of a farmer.”

“Well,” he said, “all the breeding and dressmakers and hairdressers in the world cannot make a girl lovely, Susan. Nature takes care of that. And I would have to say that nature took very good care of you.”

She sighed. “How lovely it must be, though,” she said, “to be able to be fashionable, to be able to go to Almack's and to other assemblies where the really important people go.”

“They are vastly overrated entertainments, I assure you,” he said. “I found last evening far more amusing than all the other balls I have attended this Season.”

“Oh,” she said, “I am sure you are just saying that, my lord, in order to be chivalrous.”

“Not at all,” he said. “You did not attend all those other balls, you see, Susan, but you were at last night's.” He grinned at her.

They reached the top of the hill. An area of coarse grass and stones stretched ahead of them, buffeted frequently by the strong salt breezes from the sea. Grazing sheep dotted the landscape for as far as the eye could see. Lord Eden smiled at his companion and urged his horse forward in order to catch up to the others.

He was very tempted to flirt with Susan. She was all prettiness and big eyes and feminine frailty. It was so easy to flatter her and make her blush. He was intrigued by the changes two years had wrought in her. She had changed from a girl whom he had treated with indulgent condescension into a young woman whom he wanted to treat far differently. He would like to hold her in his arms and feel her soft curves against him. He would dearly like to kiss her.

But he really must not indulge in anything more than the mild, teasing flattery that he had used on his three encounters with her in the past few days. For one thing, being a nobleman and necessarily a gentleman of privilege also limited a man's freedom. His brother had taken him aside when he was eighteen and had begun to have a roving eye where females were concerned. One must choose with care the females with whom one intended to flirt, Edmund had said. It was cruel and ungentlemanly to set up hopes where one's intentions were not serious. And it was unthinkable to seduce any virtuous girl, no matter how low her birth. He must never assume that because he had rank and fortune, he had a right to any woman who took his fancy.

He had always heeded his brother's advice. And so girls like Susan were beyond his reach. When his need for a woman was strong, he always turned to those who were quite willing to oblige and who had no illusions about his intentions. He always paid handsomely for their services. But he had never set up a mistress. He had always been preoccupied with the latest love of his life and with dreams of marital bliss with her.

It was a shame about Susan. It would be easy to draw her into a pleasant flirtation, he knew. But there was the other reason why he must not do so. He glanced ahead to where Miss Purnell was riding beside his brother, looking elegant, if not dazzling, in a brown riding habit and hat with a yellow feather.

He found that he did not feel nearly so reluctant about marrying her as he had when he had first decided that he must relieve Edmund of the responsibility of making her respectable. He rather liked Miss Purnell. She was far different from his usual taste in women, it was true. He was habitually attracted to small, shy, pretty girls who made him feel protective. But Miss Purnell was not ugly. Far from it, in fact. When one really took a good look at her, one had to admit that she was decidedly handsome. She might even be beautiful if she would let herself be.

She did not have that soft, helpless femininity that he was always drawn to, of course. She was dignified and self-possessed. Yet he did not find her unattractive. He did not feel the need to protect her, but he did find his masculinity challenged by her. He had never thought of the army and marriage simultaneously as he had the evening before. If he had married any of the other girls he had loved, then of course he would have had to stay at home to take care of his wife. He could not have endangered her peace of mind by putting his own life in danger on a battlefield.

But the night before, it had suddenly seemed a splendid idea to marry Miss Purnell, buy a commission in the army, and sail off to Spain to win glory for his country and his wife. She was the sort of woman he would want to impress. She would spur him on to brave deeds. And she had seemed to understand the night before. She had wavered in her answer to his proposal. He would be able to win her, he was sure.

And so he must put his youth behind him. He must not allow himself to be too much impressed by Susan's prettiness or give in to the pleasant possibility of a summer's flirtation.

He smiled at her. “Do you like riding on the cliffs, Susan?” he asked.

“I do not like to be close to the edge,” she said. “I become quite dizzy in high places. Whenever we walk close, I always cling to Papa's arm or Howard's, and then I feel safe.”

“Don't worry,” he said. “I see the others are all dismounting here. The horses will graze quite happily while we walk forward. Let me help you down. Then you shall take my arm and feel quite perfectly safe, I promise.”

“I hope I will not spoil your pleasure, my lord,” she said anxiously. “I really do not want to go too close.”

She set her hands on his shoulders as he took her by the waist to lift her to the ground. But somehow she lost her grip, with the result that she swayed against him and slid along the length of him before her slippered feet finally touched the ground. She blushed hotly, and her long lashes fanned her cheeks, hiding her eyes completely from his view.

“I do beg your pardon,” he said, releasing his hold of her as she brushed down the skirt of her dress. “How clumsy of me!”

“It was my fault, my lord,” she said breathlessly, peeping up at him. “I was not quite ready.”

Lord Eden offered her his arm and regretted anew that she was as untouchable to him as a vestal virgin. He was having to make a concerted effort to control his breathing.

A
LEXANDRA DID NOT HOLD
to anyone's arm as they approached the edge of the cliff. She was enjoying the almost bleak emptiness of their surroundings, the coarse grass underfoot, the fresh breeze, from which they had been sheltered just a couple of minutes before. She was reminded of the moors except that there was a salt tang to the air here. She felt exhilarated. She wanted to throw off her hat, spread out her arms to the wind, and run.

And then she came to the crest of a slight rise of land, and her heart somersaulted inside her. The world fell away almost at her feet, and the sea sparkled far below and stretched to the dark blue horizon. The wind whipped her skirt against her legs. She drew in deep lungfuls of air and closed her eyes for a moment. She looked around for James so that she might share the moment with him.

But it was Lord Amberley who stood at her shoulder.

“It takes your breath away when you are not used to it, does it not?” he said. “Indeed, it does so even when one knows what to expect.”

“It is magnificent,” she said, and turned back to gaze out over the sea and downward to the white line of the waves breaking against the beach far below. She could see the rock to which she and Lord Eden had raced two days before. She was grateful that Lord Amberley did not say anything. It was not the time for small talk. And to put into words what she felt was quite as impossible now as it had been the day before when she had seen an equally magnificent, though quite different, view from above the valley.

“I think there is nothing as awe-inspiring as wild nature,” she said, breaking the silence at last. “Tamed nature, gardens, can be appreciated with the senses. But this”—she drew in a deep breath again—“this one feels here.” She placed a hand against her ribs. “It is too deep for words. It is almost an ache. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “Perfectly.”

She turned her head toward him after a minute more of silence. She smiled fleetingly. “I might also say that it is lovely,” she said.

He smiled back in some amusement. “You were quite right yesterday about the inadequacy of words,” he said. “It was foolish and quite unreasonable of me to hope that you would respond to the places I love with the words I have never been able to find for myself. But then, I have never been called upon to do so. I am a very private person, as you may have realized, Alex. I have a close relationship with my family, but my deepest feelings I have never shared.”

She had been looking into his eyes. But they were so very blue in the sunlight, so very kindly, that awareness of his physical presence returned and broke the rare ease of their conversation. She turned sharply away.

“Is the cliff quite sheer?” she asked. “Is it possible for it to be scaled?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, “though it is very dangerous to do so, especially in this particular place. I did it for the first time when I was thirteen years old, with Peregrine Lampman. He is two years younger than I. It was strictly forbidden, of course. We would not have been caught except that Perry got stuck close to the top. He had made the mistake, I believe, of looking down, and then would not move up or down or sideways for all my cajoling. I had to run home for help. I felt like something of a hero until all the excitement was over and Perry had been borne home by his father. I did not feel quite so heroic after a sound thrashing. I believe poor Perry suffered a like fate.”

He was grinning when she looked back at him. “Your parents must have been frantic with images of what might have happened,” she said.

“Oh, yes,” he agreed. “I realized that even at the time. I have always vowed that I will bring my sons here myself when they are of suitable age, and perhaps even my daughters too if they are anything like Madeline, and supervise them on a climb. Perhaps that will destroy the lure of it as a forbidden activity.”

Papa would never handle a situation in that way, Alexandra thought. A forbidden activity was wrong, an offense against God as well as the moral laws. Supervising such an activity merely because one knew it would be attempted anyway was moral weakness. It merely taught children that wrongdoing is sometimes excusable. That was what Papa would say. He would approve of the thrashing. He would doubtless have added a week or more of confinement to the schoolroom or a bedchamber.