An Unconventional Courtship

by Dorothy Mack

  She did not miss the minor stress on the word “cool” but preserved what she hoped was a pleasant noncommittal expression in response. He offered her his arm with a flourish, and she took it after a quick glance showed Philip escorting his mother upstairs.

  The ladies’ pleasure repaid Lord Altern for his efforts to create an attractive setting.

  “Oh, how lovely,” Cecily exclaimed the moment her foot crossed the threshold of his private parlour. “It’s like a bower, Mama.”

  “Indeed yes,” agreed her mother faintly, her eyes moving from the bowl of flowers on the mantelpiece to the large arrangement on the table under the window, past the tea table with its red roses to the dim far corner of the room, which was massed with flowers on hidden stands of varying heights.

  “I fear in my anxiety to disguise the room’s inadequacies, I may have been a bit heavy-handed with the flowers,” Lord Altern confessed, seeing the imminent quiver about Miss Latham’s lips.

  “Nonsense, sir,” she replied briskly. “How could anyone criticize such a profusion of beauty? Look at the size of those snapdragons, Emerald.”

  “Very impressive,” her cousin agreed, but it was left to Cecily and Cleone to inspect the various floral arrangements before settling into the chairs indicated by their host. Emerald had already joined her mother on the sofa.

  During the next two hours, it gradually was borne in on Jason that there was something different about Emerald Hardwicke today, though at first he could not put his finger on the change. He had placed Philip at the foot of the table as assistant host to give legitimacy to his determination to have the two older women as his partners. Emerald had sent him a quick questioning look before taking her seat, but the perennial pout did not appear. All the ladies had waxed enthusiastic over the menu, which featured lobster salad and crisp summer vegetables and was crowned by colourful moulded ices and superb lemon tarts. Philip’s ebullient account of his doings in Brighton kept his sisters interested to the point where Jason was able to converse with Cleone for rather longer than had been possible at Bramble, his duties as host notwithstanding.

  At one point, prompted by Lady Henley, she confided that she was working on a portrait of Louisa.

  “Are you? I imagine the difficulties of keeping a young child in one pose long enough to do any sustained work must be challenging indeed.”

  Cleone’s rich chuckle acknowledged his accurate reading of the situation, and his smiling appreciation of her tactics to cope with the problem brought a warm glow of unguarded friendliness to the deep-brown eyes that were such an intriguing contrast to fair skin and golden-brown hair.

  “I shall look forward to seeing it when you have finished.”

  “Of — of course.”

  His casual remark had brought a startled flash to her eyes. Had she really thought this was the last time they would meet? Jason sighed for the task ahead of him and decided this was the moment for his announcement. Turning to Lady Henley, he said, “I believe you mentioned that you are acquainted with my aunt, Lady Pendleston, ma’am?”

  “Yes, a charming woman.”

  “Then you will be pleased to learn that she is arriving in Brighton in a few days. The poor dear was suffering from a feverish cold when I left London, and it has left her sadly pulled, I fear. I am counting on the bracing sea air to restore her to her customary good health.”

  “We must hope that you are correct, sir. Will she be joining you here?”

  “No, I have hired a house for her in the Marine Parade. This situation would be rather too bustling for her taste.”

  “Well, you must bring dear Lady Pendleston to call on us without fail when she is feeling more the thing.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. It will be my pleasure.” Having gotten what he wanted, Jason smiled at Cleone, who returned it with sparkling interest. “Aunt Bess is especially looking forward to renewing her acquaintance with you, Miss Latham.”

  “And I too. What a lovely surprise!”

  “What a social summer we are having, to be sure.” Cecily laughed. “That handsome Lord Carberry asked permission to call too.”

  Lord Altern’s black brows escalated. “Is this yet another admirer?”

  “Yes, but not mine,” Cecily denied, dimpling. “He could not take his eyes off Emerald.”

  “And how did you come to be acquainted with Lord Carberry?” Jason, aware of Philip’s uneasiness and the half-smug, half-defiant glance Emerald had shot him when Cecily had mentioned Lord Carberry’s admiration, kept his expression teasing as he quizzed the young girl.

  “Philip presented him to us in front of Donaldson’s just now. What kind of a lord is he?”

  “His rank? He’s a marquess.” Jason, watching Emerald without appearing to do so, thought he saw the green eyes widen slightly at this interesting piece of information.

  “His manners were particularly pleasing,” commented Lady Henley. “Just what one likes to see in a young man. I trust he is a person of good character?”

  “I regret I do not have the honour of Lord Carberry’s acquaintance as yet,” Lord Altern admitted, “but I have heard nothing against his character. Henley no doubt is better informed than I.”

  Philip allowed that he supposed the fellow was tolerably decent and proceeded to talk about something else. Jason smoothly followed his lead and kept the conversation based on the delights of Brighton for the rest of the luncheon. It wasn’t until they were escorting the ladies downstairs to their carriage that there was a minute when he could speak to Miss Latham’s ear alone.

  “We generally seem to be surrounded by hordes of people, but I just thought I’d remind you of our last conversation at Bramble. Ah, I see you remember. I promise we’ll find time soon to reopen the subject.” Jason enjoyed the faint rise of colour she couldn’t control, but her voice and demeanour were quite convincingly puzzled.

  “I’m afraid I have no recollection of any unfinished conversation between us, sir.”

  “No? Then why can you not look me in the eye, my lovely one?”

  “I believe Lady Henley is trying to speak to you, sir,” Cleone said warningly as they caught up with the rest of the party.

  Jason sighed. “Our time will come,” he promised in an undertone that affected her heartbeat once again.

  When the Hardwicke carriage had rolled off toward Bramble Hall, Jason’s mind returned to the present as he and Philip headed back to their quarters.

  “Now,” invited the older man, “tell me about the meeting with Carberry this morning.”

  “You heard it all at lunch; there’s really nothing more to tell.”

  “Would you say Carberry was much impressed with your sister?”

  “If you call sticking to her side like a damned leech being much impressed. The curst fellow was impervious to hints that his company was not desired. Insisted on accompanying us all the way here from Donaldson’s.”

  “And he requested permission to call? Why did you not invite him to join our luncheon party?”

  “Why would I want to do a crackbrained thing like that?”

  “Why, to give Lord Carberry an opportunity to become better acquainted with your sister, of course.”

  Philip eyed Lord Altern’s bland face uncertainly for a moment, then plunged. “Don’t you object to letting that fellow dangle after Emerald?”

  “On the contrary. I devoutly hope Carberry will continue to dangle after Emerald, to borrow your own descriptive phraseology.”

  “But you told me you intended to marry my sister.”

  “It grieves me to have to contradict you, dear boy, but I told you I intended to become a member of your family. I intend to marry your cousin.”

  “My cousin! Do you mean Cleo?”

  “Yes. Have you any objections?” The words were soft, but there was that underlying them that caused Philip to gulp and rush his answer.

  “No, no, of course not! Nothing to do with me. Cleo’s a great gun, she’s like another sister to me, but —”
he swallowed and went on manfully — “if I sounded incredulous just now, it was because I am! I thought, everybody thought you came to Bramble to offer for Emerald.”

  A wry twist contorted Jason’s lips as he considered his reply to this challenge. “I can hardly deny that I went to Bramble because of your sister. She’s extraordinarily beautiful. I imagine Lord Carberry’s reaction today will give you a fair idea of her impact on most men.” He paused questioningly, and Philip nodded. “The thing is,” Jason continued, choosing his words with some care, “once we were under the same roof, nothing happened; there was no intensifying of the initial attraction.” He paused again to fix Philip’s gaze with one of equal seriousness. “I do assure you that had I seen any evidence of a strengthening affection for me on your sister’s part, I would not have simply walked away totally uncommitted.”

  Philip digested this explanation. “And did you see evidence of some strengthening of affection on Cleo’s part?”

  “Lord, no! Your cousin is most likely convinced that I am an inveterate flirt, if not the greatest rogue unhung. I’ll have my work cut out for me to convince her of my honourable intentions.”

  “You sound mighty cheerful about it.”

  “You have helped immensely, my dear chap, by introducing Lord Carberry to your sister. What was needed was another candidate for her lovely little hand, preferably a candidate of at least equal rank and fortune to myself and possessing superior address. I have great hopes of Lord Carberry based on his initial performance.”

  They had reached the earl’s suite by now. Lord Altern held the door for his young friend to pass through. He clapped Henley on the back and steered him over to the dining table that had been set up by the hotel staff for the luncheon. Taking up the bottle of claret that stood unfinished, he quickly poured out two glasses and handed one to his guest.

  “Let us offer a toast to successful courtships,” he proposed, raising his own glass and drinking deeply.

  Philip, unable to withstand the dancing devils in his host’s eyes, grinned and echoed the toast.

  His own courtship could scarcely be said to have commenced at all, Jason regretted several days later as he awaited the arrival of his aunt’s coach in the hired house on Marine Parade. He hoped that Lord Carberry’s pursuit of Emerald Hardwicke was off to a more promising start. He knew from Philip that the young marquess had dragooned his inamorata’s brother into bringing him out to Bramble to call within a day or two of the initial meeting. He also knew that Henley, unimpressed with Carberry’s self-satisfied mien, had undertaken his role as fidus Achates solely in a spirit of reciprocity for his host’s patronage, but it cost him no pangs to make use of Philip and even dear Aunt Bess in his own quest. He needed every advantage to overcome Cleone’s foolish predisposition against marriage.

  With a mental apology to the author, Jason put down the novel he was reading for the third time in an hour and wandered over to the windows in the front room to check the Parade for carriages. Still no sign of Aunt Bess. He turned his back on the busy scene of people promenading in pairs or groups and critically regarded the interior of the main saloon. The furnishings were tasteful, if impersonal, better than one might have expected of a leased establishment. Again he had been lavish with flowers to create a welcoming atmosphere. There were a couple of good landscapes on the walls and some porcelain figurines on the mantel that he personally considered hideous. He had kept on the entire staff of local servants the Breedons had selected, relieved to be free of that onerous chore. Everything was in readiness, spotless and shiny with polish.

  The sound of carriage wheels in the street interrupted his inspection and brought his head around again. Yes, that tan-coloured coach piled high with baggage looked familiar. Jason was at the door to the carriage before the coachman had brought the team to a complete halt. He waved away the butler, who had followed him outside, and opened it himself, assisting his aunt to climb down partway before he seized her about the waist and swung her to the pavement in an undignified spurt of jubilant affection that took her breath away, as Lady Pendleston was quick to inform him when she at last managed to extricate herself from an enveloping bear hug.

  “I never thought to be thankful for my wrinkles, but they are probably all that stands between me and a lost reputation after that disgraceful public exhibition.”

  “I have bad news for you, Aunt,” rebutted Jason, leering grotesquely. “There are no wrinkles showing under that vastly becoming bonnet, so you’d best resign yourself to being an object of universal censure.” He planted a smacking kiss on her cheek just in case anyone in the immediate vicinity had missed the first embrace.

  “Shameless creature!” Lady Pendleston slapped her nephew smartly on the arm that slid around her waist, but two dimples peeping out belied her severity. Her charm was much in evidence as she greeted the stiffly correct butler, who had assisted her maid to alight from the carriage. When the servants had set about unloading the baggage, she stepped back to get a better look at the bow-fronted villa that was to be her temporary home.

  “Very nice, Jason,” she murmured. “Whom did you murder to acquire it in the middle of the season?”

  “No one, I assure you. It was a simple case of being in the right place at the right time.”

  Lady Pendleston was even more approving a half-hour later when she had been conducted around her domain by her nephew.

  “Spacious, plenty of light and air, and more than adequately furnished,” she gloated, sinking down onto the green sofa in the main saloon. “You did very well, Jason, including this beautiful display of flowers.” She had removed her hat and gloves by then and was ready to enjoy the tea that the butler had just deposited on the table in front of her.

  “Brighton has grown out of all recognition,” Lady Pendleston commented idly when she handed her nephew the cup she had prepared to his taste.

  “It has been some time since you were here last?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “I’ve never understood what you had against this place, or is it merely a case of preferring Worthing?”

  “Robert died here.”

  Jason put down his cup and sent her a dismayed look. “Lord, Aunt Bess, I had no idea! I —”

  “It was fifteen years ago, my dear, time to stop looking backward. I was thrilled to get your letter — your rather incoherent letter,” she added with a mischievous twinkle.

  A boyish grin illuminated the face of the man lounging in the chair across the table from her, erasing a dozen or so years in the process and tugging at her memory. “Desperation and the pressure of time robbed me of my usual literary style,” he admitted.

  She smiled tenderly. “To think that you should have fallen in love with my goddaughter. I could have asked for nothing better if I had planned it myself. Cleone is a sweet girl, so like her mother.”

  “She is a sweetheart,” he agreed, “all cool competence on the outside, but with an inner warmth that draws me irresistibly.”

  “Where will you be married?”

  Jason’s features hardened again. “If it were that simple, I would not have had to drag you down here. She is so totally involved with the affairs of her family, their day-to-day concerns, their future, that she doesn’t spare a thought for herself or her own future, except that she has some ridiculous notion of taking lodgings in London and devoting her life to painting once her family’s need of her is over.”

  “Good heavens!”

  He nodded. “Weaning her away from them will not be easy.”

  “But she does love you?” Lady Pendleston probed gently.

  A brooding, frustrated expression came over her nephew’s features. “No, not yet. At least, if she does or might, she doesn’t know it yet. That’s why I sent for you, Aunt Bess. I need to remove her from her family’s influence for a time. Under the circumstances of my visit to Bramble Hall, I could scarcely conduct a courtship of another female than Emerald Hardwicke.”

  “Ah, I confess I had
forgotten the beauty.” A thoughtful frown puckered Lady Pendleston’s brow.

  “I wish I might be allowed to forget her,” Jason said gloomily.

  “It is a bit awkward, to be sure, but once we get Cleone here in Brighton, matters will arrange themselves.”

  “If she’ll come.” Jason was reluctant to abandon his pessimism.

  “Of course she’ll come,” Aunt Bess said bracingly. “I am her godmother, after all; it is her duty to spend some time with me, and obviously Cleone responds to the call of duty.”

  Jason grinned, his mood swinging back to optimism. “It would help if you could look a little less healthy when you meet. I’ve prepared them for an invalid in need of convalescence. Could you manage to look pale and interesting when we call?”

  Lady Pendleston’s lips twitched. “So I am to be the sacrificial lamb, am I? We are to take advantage of Cleone’s good nature to demand her nursing talents? I shall warn you here and now, Jason, that nothing would induce me to go near Martha Gunn and her bathing machines. Not even for verisimilitude would I allow that horrible old woman to dip me into the sea.”

  “Nothing that drastic will be necessary, Aunt,” he soothed. “I have another string to my bow where Cleone is concerned. How would you like to have your portrait painted?”

  “I wouldn’t,” she replied with daunting promptness.

  “No, really, Aunt Bess, Cleone is a talented painter. Sitting for your portrait would give the two of you a good opportunity for private visiting without Emerald’s inhibiting presence. And I would like to have a portrait of my favourite aunt.”

  Lady Pendleston ignored the blatant flattery at the end and honed in on his earlier remark. “What has Emerald Hardwicke’s presence or absence to do with me? I am not acquainted with the girl.”

  “Well, you see, Best of my aunts, I fear it is going to be necessary to invite Emerald to make you a visit too. Along with Cleone,” he added in the face of her obvious confusion.

  “What a perfectly idiotish notion! If you could not court Cleone in front of her cousin at Bramble Hall, how do you expect to do so in this house?”