But her sister-in-law still looked puzzled. “There was a time when I thought …”
“Do not, Eve,” Fiona said quietly, holding her gaze solemnly. “Whatever you think you know about where my affections lie, you are very wrong.”
Eve watched her young sister-in-law push the pram into motion, the chromed spoke wheels grinding against the pebbled path once more. Curiosity had long abounded in the family regarding what exactly had happened between Fiona and the marquis in the Haddington House gardens two years past. Fiona had been surprisingly tight-lipped about it all, and other than knowing that the pair had exchanged words and that Vin and James had both witnessed the remnants of a hard slap across Aylesbury’s cheek, nothing more was known.
Over the years, the incident had slipped from memory as life and time progressed. Only upon seeing them together again had Eve begun to recall that night and wonder.
Curiosity raged, but Fiona was as stubborn as any MacKintosh lad and Eve knew prying for information would get her nowhere. So be it; there was still another topic that needed to be raised.
“You also did not mention that Lord Ramsay was in town.”
Only the small hitch in her pace revealed Fiona’s surprise at Eve’s words. Just enough for Eve to know that Fiona’s former beau’s presence in London came as no surprise to her sister-in-law. It was enough to make her wonder what else Fiona might be hiding from them. “Were you planning on mentioning it to anyone? Or is this another topic that is none of my business?”
“How did you know?”
“He approached Francis yesterday at his club,” Eve told her. “It seems Lord Ramsay has finally summoned the nerve to ask for your hand. Did you know he was here?”
Clearly picking through the details, Fiona told Eve of meeting Ramsay in Eaton Square after the Onslow ball. Whatever more there was to it, Fiona kept to herself.
“He dared to …” Eve’s eyes widened and she lost a bit of the restrained polish she was rather known for. She couldn’t believe that Fiona had gone out in the middle of the night to meet with a strange man. Francis would likely murder Lord Ramsay if he ever heard such a thing. “We will never, never speak of this to your brother.”
“Well, in my defense, you did always say that you were the very worst chaperone ever.” Fiona bit her lip to stifle a smile. “You should be glad that I did not have him come up to my room as he wished.”
“Mama!” Eve bit back a piteous moan as her toddler, Preston, ran up to her as they reached their intended destination. “Ducks!”
“Yes, there are ducks, darling,” she said, brushing his dark hair affectionately with her fingers. “Do you want to feed them? Shall I go with you?”
“I’ll do it, Mother,” Laurie offered in a sacrificial tone and Eve bit back a smile as it was clear that he was eager to toss the breadcrumbs himself. Even at seven, Laurie was perhaps too conscience of his position as Earl of Shaftesbury and tended to forgo many childish amusements. She often had to remind him that he was still just a little boy himself.
“Thank you, Laurie,” was all she said, digging the bread they had brought along out of the pram and handing it to Ilona. “Please mind Preston around the water,” she warned as the boys dashed away. “He took a spill last time we were here.”
Ilona grinned, merrily. “There shan’t be so much as a speck of mud on his knickers, I promise.”
Turning back, she found that Fiona and the nanny had already spread a blanket nearby where the nanny was seated with Alice in her arms. Fiona was walking slowly away toward the water holding Lela’s little hands in hers to steady the one-year old as she stumbled in baby steps after her brothers.
Very well, she would let Fiona evade the question for now. They had a long morning ahead of them and even four rambunctious children would grow bored and sleepy before long.
Taking Alice from the nanny, Eve laid her daughter on the blanket before reclining next to her. Cooing to her, she tickled Alice’s belly and embraced the joy that filled her heart when the baby kicked her legs and laughed with delight.
“Good morning, Lady Glenrothes.”
Chapter Ten
From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh – Feb 1893
Harry brought red roses tonight for Moira. I think he might actually be on the verge of asking her to marry him. How can that be when he flirts with me so shamelessly? Or does he flirt with every lady like that?
Eve looked up from beneath the wide brim of her hat to find Lord Aylesbury pulling his mount to a halt a few yards away. He dismounted, sweeping off his hat with a slight bow. Pushing herself up to a more proper sitting position, she greeted him, shooting a look at Fiona who hadn’t yet noted his arrival. “Good morning, Lord Aylesbury. Would you care to join us? We’ve brought a picnic.”
The marquis also looked at Fiona before casting a smile down at Eve. “I would love to.”
Tying his reins off to a nearby branch, Aylesbury joined her, dropping down on the edge of the blanket, tossing his hat to the side. Reaching out, he too tickled Alice’s belly and grinned down at her. “She’s a splendid girl, Lady Glenrothes. You’re very lucky.”
Eve nodded. “I am. Alice seems to like you.”
“I’ve fear I’m becoming quite fond of her myself.” He let Alice entrap his finger and draw it into her mouth with a smile but his gaze had already been drawn away. Eve didn’t have to follow it to know where he was looking.
“And not only fond of Alice, I believe?” she asked softly.
He inclined his head slightly, conceding the point. “She hates me, you know?”
Given the conversation she had just had with Fiona, it would have been senseless to deny it but Eve felt the need to add, “Hate is a strong word and a stronger emotion.”
“Yes,” he nodded, watching Fiona as she handed some bread to Lela and helped her toss it into the water. She looked so happy. As fresh and appealing as a summer day in her simple beige linen walking suit, her laughter lifting his heart with its joyful lilt. “But I’m glad for it. I know that sounds odd but indifference would have been harder to bear. Hate I can work with.”
“So you do intend to ‘work with it,’ as you say?”
It was pushy and more than a little improper to ask such a thing but Eve couldn’t help herself. The marquis was certainly more likeable than Ramsay. Aylesbury turned back to her, his bright blue eyes filled with more delight than Eve had seen from him yet since coming to London. “Yes. Would Glenrothes mind, do you think?”
“Vin and Richard might,” she teased. “But I believe Francis would approve. But, dare I ask, considering her feelings toward you, are you certain this is a project you wish to take on just now? I fear you have more than enough on your mind.”
The light in his eyes dimmed and Eve was sorry for it but she’d had to ask. Aylesbury nodded. “That isn’t a problem that is likely to solve itself anytime soon.”
“Have you had any news of her?”
His head shook in a grim negative. “No and while I’m not likely to, I find as time goes by that my own life needs some tending to. I need to do something for my own happiness.”
Something in his wording sat ill with Eve. “I shouldn’t like to think that you would consider Fiona to be some sort of compensation.”
“Please have no worries there. I have an honest affection for her.”
Eve frowned. She didn’t quite like the sound of that either. She wanted something more for her sister-in-law than something so blasé as “honest affection.”
“What are you doing here?”
They both looked up to find Fiona standing above them with Lela propped on one hip. Her expression, which had been sunny all morning, was as dark as a thundercloud.
“Lord Aylesbury just happened by,” Eve told her. “I invited him to join us on our picnic.”
“Uninvite him.”
“Fiona!”
“No, Lady Glenrothes,” Aylesbury jumped to his feet, smoothing down the sleeves of his jacket as he cons
idered Fiona steadily. “It is quite all right. I’ll go.”
“No,” Eve insisted firmly. “You will stay. Fiona, please sit down.”
Fiona shook her head stiffly.
“Fiona …”
A child’s bawling nearby had them all turning as a girl of about six or seven stumbled across the grass. “Nanny?” she cried. “Na-a-a-nny?”
Happy for a diversion and escape from Aylesbury’s unwelcome company, Fiona set Lela in her mother’s lap and hurried over to the lost child, dropping to her knees in front of her. “Hello, there,” she said soothingly. “Are you quite all right?”
“I-I,” the little girl babbled between sobs, “c-can’t find my nanny. I l-lost her.”
“Or rather she lost you,” Fiona said calmly. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her. What is your name?”
“Darcy,” she said with a sniff. “Will you help me look for her?”
Smiling down at the grubby little girl before her who looked more like a lost street urchin than a child from a family with means enough to employ a nanny for their child, Fiona stood and held out her hand to Darcy. “Yes, I shall. Where did you last see your nanny?”
Darcy pointed to a thick copse of trees some distance north of them and tugged her hand once more. While there was quite a bit of traffic around them – riders like Aylesbury and carriages passing on Rotten Row despite the unfashionable hour, families and children all rushing about near the water and the adjoining lawns – the grouping of trees was rather off the beaten path, Fiona thought. Hardly the area of Hyde Park where a nanny might take her charge for an outing. “Are you quite sure, Darcy? Perhaps you’re mistaken. It is a very large park.”
“No, that’s where we were,” she insisted, tears miraculously gone. “Will you come with me, please?”
Glancing back toward the blanket, she saw that though Eve was watching curiously, she was still sitting with her girls, however Aylesbury had started toward them. “I shall come with you.”
“No!” both Fiona and Darcy said at the same time. The child tugged her hand impatiently, eager to be gone.
“I’m sure we can do without your assistance, can we not?” Fiona said and Darcy beamed up at Fiona gladly, perhaps a little too gladly.
Fiona hesitated uneasily. Something didn’t seem quite right. Hating herself for it, she looked to Aylesbury for some reassurance but he was frowning as well. “Perhaps we should just call upon the authorities to help her?”
“No!” Darcy wailed. “I want to find my nanny now!”
“Cease!” Aylesbury commanded and the girl silenced immediately, glaring at him balefully. “No more crocodile tears either.”
Darcy’s lower lip trembled and Fiona’s sympathy prevailed. “Harry, please. I’m sure it would do no harm to help her look.”
Aylesbury couldn’t help but think that the girl seemed almost satisfied by Fiona’s offer. “Then I will come along. No, no arguments,” he added when both of them opened their mouths.
“Very well,” Fiona sighed and squeezed Darcy’s hand. “Shall we?”
But surprisingly Darcy stood firm, glaring at Aylesbury.
“Darcy?”
To her amazement, the little girl yanked her hand away and pulled a face at Aylesbury before dashing away as fast as her legs could carry her. Not to the trees to the north but to the east and the heavy traffic of Hyde Park Corner beyond.
Aylesbury watched her go. “You know, I think the little minx meant to lead you into an ambush. To rob you,” he clarified. “It’s probably her specialty, luring wealthy ladies into a situation where a footpad or two is waiting to fleece them.”
“What a horrid thought,” Fiona said with a shudder.
Aylesbury shrugged. “It’s often a horrid world.”
Fiona shifted from one foot to the other. “I suppose you expect me to thank you?”
“Thank me. Forgive me.” Aylesbury shrugged as if either would do.
“You make it such an easy choice.”
Aylesbury canted his head to one side, his blue eyes probing deeply into hers. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”
Eyeing him just as intently, she tilted her head in an allusion of a shrug. “It doesn’t matter really. I’ll be gone from London before too long and it will be a moot point.”
“Gone from London?” he repeated. “With this man you say you love? Are you going to marry him then? Who’s the lucky man?”
“Donovan Ramsay.” Fiona’s dark side found no little pleasure in the ability to provide a name. To let him know how thoroughly she had moved on. “Do you know him?”
Aylesbury raised a brow. “Donovan Ramsay? Good God, Fiona, the man’s a knock away from Death’s door!” He whistled under his breath then. “Damned but you’ll be a rich widow before the honeymoon’s over. My hat’s off to you, my dear.”
“You’re such a bastard, Harry,” Fiona muttered under her breath. Though the words carried all the derision she hoped for, Aylesbury’s jest without a hint of upset scored at her heart. It shouldn’t, she knew. Aylesbury had made his feelings for her quite clear long ago. “I am not referring to the Earl of Carron himself but his nephew. Quite likely you knew that and are only poking fun, as you tend to and…”
But Aylesbury wasn’t listening, instead his attention was wholly focused on something else. Following his gaze, Fiona could see nothing but pedestrians on foot and a carriage or two.
“What …?”
“I must go,” he said abruptly, already turning away. “My apologies.”
Running back to his horse, Aylesbury mounted hastily and spurred the horse into a gallop before he had even fully gained his seat. Wandering back towards Eve, Fiona watched him go only to realize that he was chasing after a pair of ladies in one of the carriages. Even from a distance she could hear him call to them.
“What was that all about?” Eve asked curiously as Aylesbury pulled up next to the carriage and tipped his hat to greet the ladies.
“Are you surprised?” Fiona grumbled, rejoining her sister-in-law on the blanket and drawing Lela into her lap. Ilona had returned as well, leaving the two boys under the supervision of their nanny. Fiona shrugged as if it were nothing to have a care over, even though she was stung by sudden Aylesbury’s abandonment. Who were the ladies in the carriage? Was one of them his mysterious “she?” “He’s a practiced flirt who simply cannot help spreading himself around.”
Taking the toddler’s hands in hers, Fiona clapped them together in a gentle Pat-a-Cake.
“I don’t think he’s as capricious as you think,” Eve disagreed. “In fact, I do believe he fancies you, Fiona.”
Fiona snorted dismissively, denying herself the stab of pleasure Eve’s words brought. “There are many things Aylesbury fancies, not the least being Vin’s wife or Richard’s for that matter. But not me. Aylesbury was quite clear on that point. Why I’d have a foot in the grave before that changed!”
A frown furrowed between Ilona’s brows. “He said as much?”
Two years ago. But, “Yes.”
“Did he really?” Eve tapped a finger against her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps he changed his mind.”
“Perhaps he has.” Fiona looked from Eve to Ilona, seeing the understanding there. “That doesn’t necessarily mean I have changed mine. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you?” Eve asked, sharing a look of concern with Ilona. “You still don’t carry a torch for him somewhere deep down inside just as my heart lingered with Francis in all the years between our first meeting and our second?”
Eve was far too perceptive to be having a conversation such as this with her. But Fiona wasn’t about to admit a thing to Eve that she refused to admit to herself. Not that there was anything to admit, of course.
“No I don’t because I, for one, believe that it is preferable to be Elinor Dashwood rather than Marianne, facing the future for what it is rather than pining for the past,” Fiona said referring to the characters in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. “I hav
e a plan for my future, Eve, and Harrison Brudenall is not in it.”
“But did Elinor truly move on, Fiona?” Ilona asked skeptically. “Did she find happiness where she could or did she still long for Mr. Ferrars in her heart and remain a single lady as the result?”
“She was content,” Fiona argued. After all, every tale was open to interpretation by the reader and that was how she chose to take it. “Content with her choices as I am with mine.”
Eve raised a doubtful brow. “Was she? Are you? Elinor was burdened by an overabundance of good sense, I think.”
“Yes,” Ilona agreed. “She was exceedingly cautious and practical.”
“And I’m not.” Fiona didn’t even dare to inflect a question into it. Such a query would have lifted that brow even higher; besides, Fiona wasn’t so blind to her own attributes and failings that she might even pretend to think she possessed those qualities. No, she wasn’t cautious or even practical, but Fiona was a realist and she told her sisters-in-law as much.
“No, Fiona dear, you are not,” Ilona agreed softly. “You’re impulsive; I said as much the other day. But while grasping imprudently for one thing, you’re also running. Running from what troubles you and replacing it with a whole new set of troubles won’t solve anything.”
“You don’t understand,” she whispered, the words bitter at the back of her throat. “Neither of you do. You can’t imagine what it is like to stand back and watch it all!”
Eve looked puzzled but Ilona only nodded with understanding, reaching out to draw Lela into her lap with a dejected sigh. “Can I not?”
She trailed off with a shrug but Fiona knew her sister-in-law’s thoughts often as well as she knew her own. While Ilona had found at least a part of what Fiona longed for with her marriage to Fiona’s brother, Colin, three years past, the couple hadn’t yet been blessed with a child of their own.
Brown eyes filled with caring and warmth, Ilona lifted her eyes back to Fiona’s. “I know what it is to want what you don’t have, Fiona. But I cannot evoke from nothing that which would make me happiest. And neither can you.”
A Question for Harry Page 8