“That may be true, but being an Otley is also not much fun,” replied James with a twinkle in his eye.
“Fun! Of course not. Life is a serious business, and life as the Viscount Clitheroe very serious indeed.”
“But do my duty to name and title mean giving up all duty to myself?”
“James, what has yourself got to do with anything?” demanded his uncle. “It is that ridiculous preoccupation with self that has led to scandals like Lord Byron and Caro Lamb. It is all very well for self-styled poets and madwomen to ignore society and family, but never for an Otley.”
“We are wondering, James,” his mother asked, “whom you have chosen for your viscountess, Miss Hargraves or Miss Clement?”
“Neither,” James replied.
“You see, Brother, I was afraid of this!” exclaimed Lady Clitheroe.
“What do you mean, neither, James?” asked the bishop coldly.
A year ago, James would have been utterly intimidated by his uncle’s tone and his mother’s form of emotional blackmail. But today he realized he was free of all the Otley prating about duty and responsibility.
“I intend to make Miss Lynette Richmond my viscountess. If I can persuade her to marry me, that is.”
His mother gasped. “I knew it. It is Harry Sidmouth that is responsible for all this. I have never understood your friendship with such a rakeshame. But he has managed to turn you against your family at last.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mother,” James snapped, losing patience at last. “I have followed your rules all my life. I have always done what you wanted. I am a grown man and it is time to do what I want. And I want Miss Lynette Richmond.”
“But they are a very odd family, to put it in the mildest of terms, James,” protested his uncle. “They never come down for the Season. They are not at all religious. And Lady Elizabeth, as if the scandal of elopement wasn’t enough, has taken to sheep breeding.”
“And has made a great success of it,” replied James stoutly.
“Do you know what her sister-in-law does, James?” demanded his mother. “Why she is called the Methodist marchioness?”
“Some charitable work in the poorer areas of the city, I believe. I have met her, and she is a delightful woman.”
“Charitable work! You tell him, Brother. I am feeling ill and must go and lie down.”
James led his mother to the door and summoned a maid to help her upstairs.
“The dowager marchioness spends her time giving out hygienic information to women of the streets, James. Now do you see why an Otley could never marry into such a family. She encourages prostitution.”
“Don’t you think rather it is poverty that encourages prostitution, Uncle? One can hardly hold Lady Tremayne responsible?”
“It would be one thing if she were out there trying to save these unfortunates. But she does nothing but help them avoid disease.”
“That is no small thing, Uncle.” To tell the truth, James was a bit shocked by the bishop’s revelation and was doing his thinking aloud. The more he thought about it, however, the more sensible it seemed. “Surely true piety includes a genuine care for the body as well as the soul?”
“I can see it is useless to argue with you, James. Are you truly set on this course?”
“I love Miss Richmond very much. I think she will be very good for me and I for her. I have lived the first part of my life according to what Otleys do. I intend to live the rest of it according to what this particular Otley wants to do.”
“Then I can only pray for you, Nephew.”
“I will appreciate your prayers, your grace,” replied James with a smile. “And now I must take my leave. I have promised my company to Lord Sidmouth this morning.”
* * * *
It was a lovely day, and James decided to walk to Harry’s. Taking a stand against his uncle and mother, declaring his independence, made him feel light and free and when he was ushered into Harry’s morning room, his friend immediately noticed the difference.
“You are obviously over the top about something, James. Did you propose and Miss Richmond accept?”
“Not yet, Harry,” James replied with a big smile.
“Then what has you looking so happy?”
“This morning I feel like I can do anything I want to do,” said James, seating himself at Harry’s table and beginning to butter a slice of toast.
“And why is that?” Harry was both delighted and intrigued by the new James.
“Because I have stood up to my uncle and mother at last!”
“What! Defied the Otleys? I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Harry. My mother summoned my uncle supposedly to minister to the health of my soul. But in reality, they both wished to make sure I did not disgrace the Otley name by furthering my acquaintance with the Richmond family.”
“And you told them…?”
“That I intend to make Miss Richmond my viscountess if she will have me.”
“Well done, James!”
“I never realized before how stuffy and preachy Uncle Herbert is. But I suppose one doesn’t get to be a bishop any other way! I wonder what kind of clergyman Edward Richmond would have made?”
“A poor one, I would guess.”
James laughed. “I suppose you are right. He is too honest and independent to toady to the Church hierarchy. And his sister-in-law’s activities would have kept him from a lucrative living if nothing else did. Do you know what she does, Harry?”
“The Methodist Marchioness? Yes, I thought everyone did.”
“I knew she worked directly with the poor, and I’ve even heard of her infamous bodyguard. But that she advises prostitutes on hygienic matters…”
“A little too much for your Otley sensibilities, James?” teased Harry.
James blushed. “Well, I was a little shocked. But then, when I began to think about it, it seems far less hypocritical than condemning them and leaving them in poverty.”
“I have to agree. And at least hypocritical is not a word one would use about the Richmond family. But when are you going to ask Miss Richmond for her hand, James?”
“I would like to wait a bit longer. Well, that is not precisely true. I would like to ask her today! But I want to be sure that our kiss was not just due to the magical atmosphere of Padstow.”
* * *
Chapter 37
Had he but known it, Miss Richmond had thought of little else but James Otley, Lord Clitheroe, and his kiss. She too wondered if it had occurred only because of the moment, or whether James would attempt another. He had declared his intention to court her, but Lynette had never had any man persist in his courtship once he got over being dazzled by her beauty. She had so little experience that she felt like a sixteen-year-old, shaken by her first infatuation. She had awakened one morning from a delightfully disturbing dream of James kissing her, and walked through the day in a daze, most of her wanting to be back in her dream.
The evening of the Langley rout her hands were trembling as she tied her cloak. She knew that James would be there, that he would ask her to dance, and the thought of being held in his arms shook her to the core.
When she entered the ballroom, James was immediately at her side. He thought she had never looked more beautiful. Her gown was embroidered with silver thread and seed pearls, and she had pearls woven in through her hair. But tonight there was something about her beauty that invited him closer. He signed himself up for two waltzes, one of which was a supper dance.
During their first waltz, Lynette was unable to look into James’s face. She would lift her eyes briefly and respond to a question and then drop them again.
“You seem to find my lapel fascinating, Miss Richmond,” James teased gently.
Lynette blushed. “I am afraid I am still embarrassed by my behavior at Padstow.”
James wasn’t sure if the oblique reference to their kiss was a good or bad sign.
“Was it only embarrassment that you felt, Miss Ric
hmond?”
“Oh, no,” Lynette replied softly.
“Then you might be persuaded to repeat the experience?”
“Yes,” she responded, bravely looking right into James’s eyes.
James watched her face flush pink and pulled her a little closer to him as he said, “It is a very warm evening, Miss Richmond. Perhaps we could walk in the garden after this dance.”
Other couples had had the same idea, but James and Lynette managed to find a little privacy by the herb garden, where they sat on a small stone bench. The scent of mint and thyme perfumed the air.
“Our first kiss was in rather unusual circumstances, Miss Richmond. I would like to be sure that a second is what you want. I would not like to hurry you.”
Lynette looked up and saw the look of both longing and concern in James’s eyes. She had accepted that James cared for her because he had told her so, but it had remained more of an intellectual acceptance. But she had not really felt it before. Now she did. He did not only want her, but he also loved her. She let herself open to the sensation of being loved. Their first kiss had come more on her part, from a sense of joy and fellowship than desire. But tonight she was suddenly flooded with it. She slid closer and lifted her face up to his, a clear invitation. James leaned down and brushed her lips lightly. They were both taken aback that such a brief contact struck strong sparks. Without thinking Lynette put her arms around James’s neck and pulled him into a deeper kiss. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathless.
James heard footsteps and soft laughter and realized that some other couple was making their way down the path to the herb garden.
“We had better go, my love,” he said, the endearment slipping out as he reached out to brush back a strand of her hair.
Lynette nodded and slipped her hand into his without thinking. James linked his fingers through hers and thought he had never been so happy. The approaching couple was too preoccupied to notice them, and so he kept hold of Lynette’s hand until they reached the doors leading back into the ballroom. He returned her to her family, nodded politely, and said coolly that he was looking forward to their next dance.
When he returned for his waltz later in the evening, Lynette went straight into his arms. Neither spoke. Neither had to. They were silent with each other at supper, although they chatted politely to the others around them.
At the end of the evening James bade Lynette good night, adding quietly, “I would like to take you for a drive tomorrow morning, Miss Richmond?” She nodded her consent, knowing that tomorrow would formalize what had been decided between them tonight.
* * * *
Lord Sidmouth had confined himself that evening to dancing with respectable widows and matrons. There was no singling out of one young woman, no laughing pursuit to make her feel the center of his attention. The only unmarried women he danced with were the Misses Richmond. It was well known that Lord Clitheroe was obviously after the elder sister. It was also known that Miss Kate had never shown any particular interest in Lord Sidmouth, and this evening did nothing to dispel that impression. She accepted his invitation politely, they smiled and chatted on the dance floor, and he bowed politely and returned her to her brother’s company.
In fact Harry felt quite a stranger to himself. He had spent the better part of a year pursuing young women he had no real interest in. He had become expert in arousing expectations without compromising himself. And now that he had discovered an interest in Miss Kate Richmond, it was as though he had forgotten everything he knew about flirtation and courtship. He wasn’t feeling driven, but drawn slowly and inexorably to her. And he discovered a diffidence he had not known he possessed.
Kate was also puzzled by his behavior and her own reaction to it. She had despised him for his easy charm, and had been furious at his behavior with Lynette. She had forgiven him that, of course, when the truth came out, but had still seen him as careless and had vowed she would not be taken in.
The way he had looked at her in Cornwall when their paths had crossed and their eyes met during that long day of singing and dancing almost undid her resolve. And tonight, when he asked her to dance (and she was well aware she was the only unmarried female aside from her sister he had partnered), she had armed herself against this charm. But it was rather like preparing for a battle that never occurred. He was polite, he held her at exactly the proper distance, and he wasn’t charming at all. She wondered why he had even bothered to ask her since he treated her like an aging spinster who held no attractions for a man.
She was annoyed with both herself and him for the rest of the evening. With him for not being his more easily dismissible lightweight, and with herself for having wanted him to be. Just so she could have given him his comeuppance, of course. But was she so unattractive to him that he didn’t even care to try?
She was in a very bad mood indeed by the end of the evening. She hated her ambivalence, and yet she was probably the only young woman in London he had not tried to maneuver onto a balcony or out into the garden. She despised his rakish behavior and yet wanted him to act the rake with her!
Her night was long and fretful, her sleep interrupted by dreams of Sidmouth. In one, she was walking down a garden path, and at every turning she came upon the marquess with yet another woman on his arm. In another, she was living on an unrealistically long street in Mayfair, and emerged from her door only to see other young ladies emerging from theirs and stretching out their arms to accept beautiful floral tributes all being delivered by Lord Sidmouth’s footman, while she stood empty-handed.
* * * *
Harry’s evening was not much better. The ball had been very tame, nay, boring, except for his one dance with Kate. But then that dance had probably bored her to tears, for he had been about as exciting a partner as Bishop Otley!
When he got home, he also tossed and turned, finally giving up on sleep and going down to his library to pour himself a brandy. The May Day song from Padstow kept running through his head, and he kept seeing Kate’s face as she was dragged laughing and protesting under the ‘oss. It was such a strong, honest, open face. Not plain, but certainly not beautiful. Kate Richmond was a young woman of integrity, common sense, and a sense of humor. She had not been afraid to confront him about his supposed behavior with her sister. He had certainly been mildly aware of her as a woman before Cornwall, but now there was nothing but that awareness. It drew him to her side like a lode-stone, and at the same time it paralyzed him once he was there. Surely it was ironic that the one woman he finally thought he was capable of loving made him lose everything he needed to woo her: his charm, his intensity and most of all, his unavailability. For he knew it was that challenge that drew women the most. They often wanted men desperately whom they knew they could never have. The present irony was that Miss Kate Richmond could have him, all of him, and most likely would, therefore, never want him.
* * *
Chapter 38
James arrived to take Lynette for the promised drive in the late morning. He wished to avoid the later crowds and hoped they would be able to find a secluded corner of the park. Lynette had her abigail with her, but he had already primed his groom to distract the young woman long enough for him to have some time alone with Miss Richmond.
When they reached the park, he was relieved to see it was fairly deserted. The early morning had been sunny, but the day had grown increasingly cloudy, and that had probably kept people away. Of course, going for a walk when it was threatening rain was not the most romantic idea, but he had his groom drive them to a certain spot he knew where a path led into the trees on the edge of the park. “Henry, Miss Richmond and I are going to stretch our legs. After you have secured the horses, please escort her abigail and join us.”
Henry winked at Lynette’s maid. “ ‘E wants a little time alone with your mistress, luv. Shall we give it to ‘im?”
“My mistress already told me to give them fifteen minutes. But no more.”
“Wot! Miss Richmon
d said that?”
“Oh, no, not Miss Richmond. The dowager marchioness is really my mistress, and she thinks Lord Clitheroe is going to propose today.”
“Well, ‘e tipped me this for nothing then.” Henry grinned, pulling a guinea out of his pocket. “But I won’t tell if you won’t.”
* * * *
James glanced back once or twice, but there was no one following yet, so he assumed his scheme had worked. He drew Lynette’s arm through his and felt her tremble a little.
“You are not worried about being alone with me, I trust?”
“No, James, I am not.”
It took him a minute to realize she had used his first name. “You called me James.”
Lynette started to apologize, saying it had just slipped out.
“Please don’t apologize, my dear. Just give me permission to call you Lynette.”
“Yes, James, I should like that.”
They were walking slowly, arm in arm, each thrilled by the unaccustomed intimacy of the secluded path, their physical closeness, and their mutual desire to be more to each other than Miss Richmond and Lord Clitheroe, when James heard a soft pattering. At first he thought it was someone following. Then he realized it was raindrops falling on the leaves over their heads.
“Damn,” he said aloud.
“What is it, James?” asked his surprised companion.
“It is starting to rain.”
Lynette put out her hand and a few raindrops hit it. “I believe it is.”
“We will have to turn around.”
“So soon?”
“I cannot let you get wet, my dear.”
“You forget I am a Yorkshire lass,” she said with a mischievous smile. “T’weather doesn’t bother me.”
James stopped and turned toward her. “I had imagined a warm day with the sun dappling the path,” he said with a rueful smile. “There is a small clearing ahead where I might have spread out my coat and knelt at your feet…”
Lynette laughed. “Then I am glad it is raining, James, for I could never have that.”
Heartless Lord Harry Page 16