The Waltzing Widow/Smith (12 page)

Lady Sara shook her head in repudiation of the whole affair. “What would I know about the schemes of lightskirts?” she asked, in a purely rhetorical spirit. “Perhaps her late
cher ami
was cutting up rusty.”

Avedon considered this possibility and found it feasible. It seemed to jibe with all the facts. Mrs. Percy was hiding on a patron who had become obstreperous. She changed her name and marital status to make following her difficult, but once she discovered Tony, she decided to make herself available. A woman like that would be bored with no masculine company. The only thing that bothered him was why she had selected Tony for her new protector and not himself.

As he reviewed their relationship, it occurred to him that he had been antagonistic toward Mrs. Percy from the beginning. She had decided he was too farouche for her and settled for the young pup. After last night, however, she might quite possibly have changed her tune. It should be an interesting meeting. His first object was to get her away from the chaperon. Negotiations of the sort he had in mind didn’t want an audience. He trusted she had enough town bronze to realize marriage was out of the question. In fact, as he considered it, he thought marriage had never been her intention. That would explain her refusal to move into Milhaven when Isabel invited her.

He rose and said, “I shan’t be home for luncheon, Sal. I’m taking a run down to Seaview.”

Lady Sara looked up with interest. Her papa had bought a seaside house at Shakespeare Cliff, near Dover, when she and Isabel and Adrian were young. The intention had been that they would spend some weeks of the summer there. Lady Avedon had taken the place in dislike and it was seldom used, except recently by Lady Sara and her family.

“Perhaps I’ll come with you,” she said uncertainly. “Are you thinking of opening it?”

“No, of renting it,” he replied. “The place will be a shambles. It won’t be very enjoyable for you, Sal. I’m taking my curricle to save time.”

She envisaged the windy trip, a meeting with an estate agent, and perhaps a tour of the house, with no decent luncheon. “I shall stay home and ask Lady Beatrice to lunch,” she decided.

Avedon breathed a sigh of relief and called for his carriage. On such a fine day the curricle would be pleasant. He knew Mrs. Percy had no objection to the open carriage, as he frequently saw her in Tony’s.

Lucy had made a careful toilette in anticipation of his visit. She wore a fetching sprigged muslin with green ribbons and her curls were dressed
en corbeille.
She sat at her tambour frame, accompanied by her chaperon, when Avedon was announced. It always surprised him to find her at this domestic chore. For just a moment he felt a twinge of misgiving. What if he was wrong about her?

Then she looked up, and he saw the glint of mischief in her brown eyes. “I did not look for you so early, Lord Avedon,” she said. “I made sure you would have estate duties to attend to before calling.”

He bowed to the ladies. “I do occasionally abandon myself to pleasure,” he assured her. “It would be a shame to waste a day like this working.”

“I was thinking of taking my frame into the garden,” Lucy said, “but the dust is still bothersome there.”

“And the cow and chickens just a little closer to home than your nose finds comfortable, I wager,” he added roguishly. “I hoped I might induce you to drive toward the coast with me. I want to inspect my summer house.”

Lucy looked doubtfully at her chaperon. “We are expecting important company soon. I should help with the preparations.”

“Your uncle does not come till the day after tomorrow. Run along,” her aunt said. “It’s such a fine day, and you always liked the sea, Lucy.”

Lucy wasted no time in gathering up her bonnet and a pelisse, in case the sea breezes should prove chilly. Within minutes she and Avedon were cutting along in his open carriage. He handled the ribbons of his blood horse with skill and precision. That jerking motion that made riding with Tony such a trial was totally absent.

“Where is your summer house, Lord Avedon?” she inquired.

“Not far from Dover. And incidentally, don’t you think you might stop “lording” me. My name is Adrian, or if that is rushing things, at least call me Avedon.”

Lucy was unsure whether an “Avedon” merited a “Lucy,” and just nodded. “Are you preparing for a remove there for the summer?” she asked, and was aware of a sinking sensation inside her. Avedon had been a wretched nuisance, yet she knew the summer would lose much of its charm if he left.

He turned a practiced smile on her. “I hope to spend a good deal of time there. It has occurred to me that the sea air might be just the thing for you, Mrs. Percy. Perhaps you will honor me with a visit.” She looked at him uncertainly, but he saw no real unwillingness in her attitude. “Miss Percy mentioned you are fond of the sea.”

“Yes, I like it very much,” she agreed readily

“I would hate to be parted from you, just when we are finally achieving a less quarrelsome footing,” he said. “You must not think I am always so irritable as you have seen me.”

“That would be difficult indeed,” she replied with a saucy smile.

His answer was as close to flirtation as made no difference. “I think you know the reason.”

“I haven’t the faintest notion.”

“Come now.” He reached out with one hand and seized her fingers. “You aren’t such a slow top as that. It was your pronounced preference for the other gents that got me on my high horse.”

“And here I thought you feared I was angling after your nephew’s fortune,” she retorted.

Avedon released her fingers but held her with a smile. “Mine is considerably larger, you know,” he said temptingly.

“If I were a fortune hunter, which I promise you I am not, that would count for a good deal with me.”

“Then it is Tony’s conversation that appeals to you,” he said in a joking way. “By Jove, Mrs. Percy, I see I must step up m’ compliments.”

She smiled at his impersonation. “That won’t be necessary, sir. It is his attitude that pleases me. He is always so eager to help, whereas some gentlemen go a mile out of their way to make my life miserable.”

“And after all their effort they neither get their tiles laid, nor bounce off the unwanted tenant. Formerly unwanted tenant,” he added, with a wider smile.

“May I conclude, then, that the war is over?” she asked.

“I have capitulated completely to my erstwhile enemy. You have taken the day, Mrs. Percy.”

Lucy settled in comfortably, unaware of any ulterior motives in her host. “Did you really think I was interested in your nephew?” she asked

“Well, I knew he was interested in you. There is  something to be said for persistence, but I daresay a lady of your experience would prefer a—more mature gentleman.”

“I think I would,” she agreed. Lucy was still young and green enough to read his speech into a compliment. “There is also something to be said for worldliness. A more mature gentleman would not outsit his welcome so long.”

The drive continued with good humor and flirtation on both sides. Lucy asked Avedon about his summer house, and he entered eagerly into a list of its merits. “We are close to Dover—I know you ladies like to be near the shops—but not perched on an impossible promontory. We have easy access to the sea for swimming and boating. I keep my yacht anchored there when I visit. Do you like sailing?”

“I’ve never sailed. We are not right on the sea in Dorset. Closer to Wiltshire actually.”

“You will like it. The wind in your hair, the waves rolling under you, with the sun gleaming on the water. I hope you will agree to spend some time at Seaview.”

“It sounds charming. When do you plan to go?”

“I wish we didn’t have to go back home at all,” was his oblique answer.

“I am promised to Milhaven this evening,” she reminded him.

With Avedon’s swift grays, the trip took only an hour and a half. They passed through the low-lying marshlands, with the terrain gently rising as they approached the coast. The scent of the sea, that salty mixture of iodine and seaweed, presaged the sea’s appearance. Soon it came into view, a flat sheet of rumpled metallic motion, dotted with sails.

He drew up in front of a rustic two-story building of flint and Caen stone. It was formed in the Norman fashion with rounded doorways, but the height and generous windows indicated it was of more modern construction. A puff of smoke rising from the chimney told her the place was not vacant. In front there was a patch of lawn, and wild roses climbed up the stone facade. Behind, a meadow of grass and wildflowers stretched in the distance.

“It’s beautiful!” Lucy exclaimed.

“I thought you might like it,” he said with quiet satisfaction. “Would you like to go and admire the sea before we go inside?”

She ran to the bluff, where a tumble of large rocks led to the sea. The wind whipped her hair and skirts. It also caused the water to swell, with whitecaps bouncing on the waves. “Nice and private for bathing,” Avedon mentioned. “On a clear day you can see halfway to France.”

“How lovely! You can take your yacht across the Channel,” she said. A faraway look was in her eyes. She had an image of a halcyon future, with herself on Avedon’s yacht, flitting across the water with the wind in her hair.

“We could gather up a group and have a race to Brighton,” he tempted. “I think you would like Brighton, Mrs. Percy. I’m surprised you didn’t choose to summer there. It is much livelier than our rustic little corner of the kingdom.”

“I wanted peace and quiet,” she said simply.

He put a hand on her arm and turned her back toward the house. “And I gave you noise and dust. What a shabby fellow. Let me offer you a quiet tea at least. I see by the chimney that my housekeeper is at home.”

Avedon tapped at the door before entering. A local matron in a white apron and cap made them welcome.

‘This is Mrs. Landry,” he told Lucy. “I hope you can give us a cup of tea, Mrs. Landry, and perhaps some of your excellent bread or muffins.”

“I have some buns in the oven this minute,” she assured him. “The fire is laid in the grate if you’re feeling chilly. I have only to set a light to it. There’s always a nip in the air hereabouts.”

“I’ll light the fire,” Avedon said, and led Lucy into the parlor.

While Avedon busied himself with the tinderbox, Lucy looked around the room. There was no real elegance here, but a cozy atmosphere, with the big stone fireplace occupying a whole wall. Around the grate ranged a fat stuffed sofa and two chairs. It was not a room for formal entertaining but a room for comfortable family living. Shelves of books and games ranged below the windows that gave a view of the sea. Sunlight slanting through the panes lightened the somberness of paneled walls. He lit the fire, and flames leapt up the chimney.

“This must certainly be a change from Chenely,” Lucy said, looking all around.

“You don’t care for so much rusticity?”

“It is charming, Avedon, for a little summer place.”

Was she saying she had no intention of being satisfied with so little? Avedon felt a stirring of anger. “One would hardly expect to spend the whole year here, of course,” he agreed.

“I expect it would be very cold in winter, and rather isolated, too.”

“But wouldn’t you prefer it to Rose Cottage—for the summer?” he asked.

Lucy looked at him in surprise. Was he inviting her to visit him for the entire summer? A flush colored her cheeks as she gazed into his brightly curious eyes. “I have just rented Rose Cottage,” she reminded him.

“I would be happy to rent it back from you. There would be no expense in it for you.”

“It’s not the money.... It would seem odd to abandon it. Do—do you and Lady Sara intend to move here for the whole summer, Avedon?”

“Lady Sara?” he asked. “No, she will soon be returning to Hampshire.”

Mrs. Landers brought tea, and Lucy poured for them. “Then it will be just yourself here?”

“You and myself, I hope,” he said.

Lucy looked at him, with a smile trembling on her lips. She had always been aware of a tension between herself and Avedon. She knew that feeling was not all antipathy, but that it should turn to love in the twinkling of a bedpost was difficult to comprehend. “That sounds—rather—unusual,” she said.

“There is nothing unusual in a gentleman falling head over ears in love with a beautiful lady,” he said, and set her teacup aside to grab her two hands.

Lucy looked at him, blinking in astonishment. “This is so sudden, Avedon.”

“Adrian,” he said, gazing into her eyes and squeezing her hands till they ached. “And may I not call you Lucy?”

“I—I suppose that would be all right,” she said primly.

He touched her nose and laughed. “Such a prim and proper little hoyden. This is not sudden at all. I have wanted to kiss you from the first moment I met you in the village, flashing your dark eyes at me and rattling me off for being a yahoo.”

His head inclined to hers. Lucy was aware of a fierce thudding in her breast as the dazzle of his eyes came closer, blurring to a haze as she stared, hypnotized. His hand came to her shoulder. The other stole around her waist and he pulled her into his arms. She felt the solid, warm wall of his chest pressing against her as his arms tightened.

Her hands fluttered uncertainly a moment, then went around his neck. Lucy knew the treachery of allowing a man to embrace her. Even with the now-despised Ronald Pewter, she had felt these strange stirrings of passion. But Avedon was different. There was no reason to doubt his motives. He was a wealthy lord, and if he loved her, it had nothing to do with self-interest. She gave herself up to his embrace. His lips firmed as they clung together.

Strangely it was Avedon who brought the embrace to an end. He wasn’t surprised at the warmth of her response. He knew she was experienced; it was the depth of his own feelings that startled him. There had been more in the embrace than just desire. There was a strange new tender feeling. Perhaps it was the onset of love. It didn’t do for a man to go falling in love with his mistress. That could lead to disastrous consequences. For the time being, however, he meant to forge ahead with his scheme.