by Mary Balogh
“Alexandra will do as she is told,” her father said. “This is entirely between you and me, Amberley. I should not have raised the matter until we were alone together, perhaps. But both Lady Beckworth and Alexandra need to know what we plan.”
They had all stopped walking. Alexandra watched her betrothed with raised chin and compressed lips. He smiled at her.
“I would say rather that it is a matter between Alex and me,” he said with quiet courtesy. “We will discuss the matter and let you know our decision while you are still here. I can understand your wish to know what our plans are. But I believe I can say with some certainty that we will not be marrying quite as soon as you suggest. And probably not in London.”
“Not in London?” Lord Beckworth said, his brows drawing together. “You are to marry in the country, as if you are hiding your shame? Under the circumstances, Amberley, it is quite imperative that your wedding be a very public occasion.”
“When I marry,” Lord Amberley said, his voice no louder or less courteous than it had been at the start, “I will be marrying Alex, my lord, pledging myself to her for the rest of my life. Frankly, it will not concern me at that moment what the rest of the world thinks, or where the rest of the world is. Provided Alex is there, and the people we love most, I shall be entirely happy.”
Papa was breathing rather heavily, Alexandra saw. Mama was looking frightened. Alexandra raised her chin another inch. And then the tension was broken by the sound of Uncle William’s voice calling from across the river.
“No point in going any farther,” he called to Lord Beckworth. “There are only more trees and more water up there.” He laughed. “And the water is all coming this way.”
“We have been showing Mr. Purnell one of the best fishing spots,” Anna called gaily. She was clinging to his arm, looking very pleased with herself.
James Purnell looked assessingly at the group across the river and met his sister’s eyes. They exchanged that smile of theirs that would have been almost undetectable to anyone else.
“I am quite fatigued,” Lady Beckworth said petulantly as the other group continued on their way back to the house. “We must have walked for almost half a mile already.”
Lord Beckworth took her arm.
“Alex,” Lord Amberley said, “would you care to stroll a little farther before we turn back?”
She was aware of the look of surprise both her father and her mother gave her. She caught herself just in time before making the automatic reply.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, and took his arm.
YOU ARE UPSET,” LORD AMBERLEY SAID, TOUCHING Alexandra’s fingers lightly with his own. They had been walking in silence for a couple of minutes.
“Yes,” she said.
“Because your father talked of our wedding?” he said. “He cannot force you into marrying me at the end of the summer, Alex, or at any other time. I will not allow it.”
“I know,” she said.
He looked down at her again after another minute of silence. Her expression had not relaxed at all or her chin dropped.
“What is it?” he said. “You had better tell me. I know you well enough to know when something is on your mind, but not well enough to read that mind.”
“You will not allow it,” she said, her voice tight with fury. “How grateful I must be.”
“So,” he said, “it is me you are angry with, not your father. You are angry because I spoke up to protect your interest. I cannot win at this game, can I, Alex?”
“How humiliating it is,” she said, “to have two men arguing over me as if I were inanimate. Of course I am far less than inanimate. I am a woman, and as such cannot have a mind or a voice of my own. How very fortunate I am to have a champion.”
He felt angry. He had never allowed himself to feel anger with her before. He had been too constantly aware of his obligation toward her, of his need to protect her, to make her happy if possible. But now he felt angry.
“And apparently no ears either,” he said. Her head jerked around and she looked at him in surprise. His voice really had sounded far more irritated than he had intended. “Did you not listen to what was said, Alex?”
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Very well. The question was, I believe, where and when we are to be wed. You were pleading my need to have longer in which to become acquainted with you. I do not want longer, my lord. I have had quite long enough, thank you. You are just my father in different clothing.”
“Enough!” he said, his anger thoroughly aroused. “Your trouble, Alex, is that you have grown sorry for yourself in the past few weeks. Every man is your enemy. Someone who tries to give you orders is your enemy. Someone who tries to include you in decisions to be made about your own future is your enemy. What do you want? I give up.”
“Someone who tries to include me in decisions!” she said. “Do you not see? I am included only because you choose to include me. What freedom does that give me? I am beholden to you for every favor. You should not be in a position to give me that choice. I should have the choice by right of my humanity.”
“Nonsense!” he said. “You want the moon and the stars. You want what is beyond my power to give you, Alex. We live in a certain social system. And in that system, unfortunately for you, males are dominant. That is fact, my dear. Neither of us is going to change that fact merely because we might wish to. If we wish to fight it, we can do so only within our individual lives. I feel no guilt for what I have said or done this afternoon. I was trying to protect your interests.”
“Yes,” she said bitterly. “Protect!”
“If you do not like it,” he said, “you will have your chance next week to go and seek your fortune and your freedom as a governess or whatever else you choose. You may not like what you find, Alex. I think you are appallingly naive about the world in which we live. But at least you will have freely chosen your destiny.”
“Yes,” she said, “I will. And I will not come complaining to you if I do not like it. You may depend upon that.”
“Frankly, Alex,” he said, “once you are away from here, I will not spare a thought to caring how you like your life. I can scarce wait for the moment. Do you think my life has been pleasant for the past few weeks?”
He was appalled by his own words after they were spoken. They had been spoken in anger, an emotion that he rarely allowed in himself. They were vicious words that had been chosen to hurt. They had been chosen out of his own frustration and pain. They were unforgivable.
He looked down at her bent head. He could not see her face beneath the brim of her straw bonnet.
“Alex,” he said softly, “I did not mean a word I said then. I was behaving like a petulant schoolboy, wanting to hurt you. Please forgive me if you can.”
She looked up. Her dark eyes were suspiciously bright. They were also hostile. “No,” she said, “don’t ask forgiveness. You are too well-mannered by half. Your courtesy and your kindness are like a shield. I think I have just seen the real man behind that shield. And I respect you the more. Why should you not wish to see the back of me? I have brought you nothing but trouble. And it is true that you have done a great deal for me. And I have been thoroughly ungrateful. I understand and appreciate, but I cannot accept what you have done for me and keep on doing. Of course you hate me. It would be strange if you did not.”
“I don’t hate you, Alex,” he said. They had stopped walking. His hand was over hers.
“Well,” she said, “once your ball is over, I will be leaving. We will both be glad. You will be able to get your life back to normal.”
“Yes,” he said.
“And this very naive young lady will find what the wide and wicked world is like,” she said.
“Yes.”
She smiled at him, a rather bleak effort, it was true. But he could not bring himself to return even as much.
“I wish we had met under different circumstances, Alex,” he said. “I would like to have got to know you without all the bitter
ness you feel.”
She shook her head. “There is no use in thinking thus,” she said. “Without the scandal, you would have met me—if at all—as the Duchess of Peterleigh. And I think I would rather you did not have that pleasure. I have something to thank your brother for, you see.”
“Are you going to marry Dom?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes widened. “Marry Lord Eden?” she said. “Of course not.”
“He told me you had not said no,” he said. “He had hopes that he would be able to persuade you.”
“I was tempted,” she said, “before I realized that I do not have to marry anyone. But not now. The answer will be no if he asks me again.”
“But why were you tempted?” he asked. “If you felt marriage was necessary at the time, why be tempted when you were already safely betrothed to me?”
She shrugged.
“Do you have an aversion to me?” he asked. “But no, I do not believe it. When I have kissed you, you have responded to me.”
She was examining the backs of her hands. “You have caused too much turmoil in my mind,” she said. “Lord Eden has not. Lord Eden seems like a younger brother, though he is older than I.”
He touched his fingers to her cheek. “I would like to have made love to you, Alex,” he said. “I regret that I will never have the chance.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flaming.
He smiled. “You regret it too, do you not?”
She did not reply, though her eyes grew larger, if that were possible.
“Alex,” he said with something like a groan, catching her by the shoulders and pulling her against him, “why is it that I could shake you and spurn you, that I cannot wait to see the end of you, and that I want to hold you and fold you into myself and love you and love you?”
She sagged against him and put her arms around his waist. But she said nothing, and she did not lift her head. He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes.
“Is there any hope?” he asked. “Is there any chance that you will change your mind and decide to stay with me? Is there any future for us, Alex?”
“No!” She raised her head and looked earnestly into his face. “No, Edmund. I would always be sorry if I stayed, always accuse myself of weakness. I would be restless and miserable, and I would make you miserable, as I have already done. Yes, I want you to make love to me. No! I want to make love to you. I want us to make love. I want you. I cannot deny that, and I would be foolish to try. You have held me, and you know that I have wanted you. But that is not enough. It is not enough to fall into each other’s arms and assume that for the next fifty years or so we will live happily ever after. I am not sure I am capable of happiness. That I will have to discover. But I cannot be happy with you, Edmund. And I care for you too much to risk trying, for I would make you miserable. And you do not deserve misery.”
He nodded his head and swallowed. “I don’t know if you are the most courageous woman I have ever met or the most foolish,” he said. “But I see that I have to let you go. There is to be no keeping you. I am sorry, Alex. I am truly sorry.”
She raised herself on her toes and set her lips to his. He stood quite still. She removed her arms from around his waist and set her hands on either side of his face, her fingers pushing into his hair. She removed her mouth after a while, but she kept her hands where they were.
“I can tell you,” she said. “I am a foolish woman. In years to come I will regret you, Edmund Raine. I know that as surely as I am standing here. I know just as surely that if I don’t go, I will lose my self-respect. And I have been without that for so long—all my life, in fact—that I know life is not really worth living without it. I have to put it first. I have to, Edmund.”
She kissed him once more and then released him. He let his arms drop to his sides.
“Papa will have a search party out if we are much longer,” she said. “As it is, I am in for a thundering scold. Take me back.”
He smiled ruefully at her and gave her his arm.
MOST OF THE ATTENTION of the neighborhood was focused during the following week on the approaching ball. The annual event was always the highlight of the summer. On this occasion there was the added excitement of knowing that there were visitors at Amberley Court, most notably the young earl’s new fiancée.
Alexandra had taken well in the neighborhood, far better than she had done in London. Most people admired her dark beauty, which had been largely lost on the ton, inundated as it was during the Season with young ladies of far more obvious and adorned prettiness. And her quiet dignity won the approval of those who knew they would look to her as the leading lady of that particular part of the county.
It had been observed that she was willing to be friendly, willing to listen, and willing to participate in any of the activities of village or countryside without in any way pushing herself forward or putting on airs because she was to be the Countess of Amberley. Even the poorer people of the village, most of whom worked for the earl, acknowledged her with a nod and a smile whenever they saw her. Her kindness to Mrs. Peterson and her sons and her appearance at Joel Peterson’s funeral had not gone unnoticed.
Alexandra was not idle during the days leading up to the ball. She took tea most days with one of the neighbors, usually calling on them with Lady Amberley and sometimes with her mother and Madeline too. And she found herself having to fight against the warm feeling of belonging that was beginning to steal up on her. Mrs. Carrington, who insisted that she call her Aunt Viola, constantly protected her from Uncle William’s teasing; Anna plied her with eager questions about London and the assemblies and balls; the Misses Stanhope displayed all their lacework and embroidery for her inspection; Mrs. Courtney showed her the large vegetable garden that she always planted and tended herself, although she now had a couple of servants who could do the work for her; the rector’s wife told her about Lord Amberley’s charitable works in the neighborhood, which were supposed to be a closely guarded secret; Lady Lampman showed her the large flower garden at the back of her house, which was the pride and joy of both her and her husband.
It was difficult to face the knowledge that she was an impostor. What would these people think of her when she left? That would not matter, of course. She would not know what they were thinking and saying, and consequently their opinion would not affect her. But what would they think of Lord Amberley? Would they feel sorry for him, or would they blame him?
It would be very unfair if they did the latter. Indeed, they must not blame him. She must be very sure that she was the one who broke the engagement, she decided. It was enough that she knew he was willing to do it, to prove to her that he was willing to allow her to take some of the burden of life upon her own shoulders. But she did not wish to humiliate him publicly. And it would be a dreadful humiliation for him to be known as a gentleman who had ended a formal betrothal.
Her relationship with her father was not as bad as she had expected it to be. It was true that he had taken her to task on a few issues, but he had not tried to dominate her every move. He had not tried to impose any punishments on her.
He did not like the Earl of Amberley. The man was a weakling, in his judgment.
“What in thunder does he mean by saying he has to talk the matter of the wedding over with you, Alexandra?” he asked the day after the garden party. “What does it have to do with you anyway?”
“It is my wedding you were discussing, Papa,” she said. “Surely it is only natural that Lord Amberley and I should be the ones to make the decision.”
“Nonsense!” he said. “Nothing would ever be decided if women had always to be consulted. You should feel thankful enough that you are to be respectably married, my girl. Let your menfolk take care of the practical matters.”
“That is not the way it will be with me, Papa,” she dared to say. She looked him carefully in the eye.
“Alexandra!” her mother said in a shocked whisper. “Remember to whom you are speak
ing.”
But Papa did not explode as she had fully expected him to do. He looked at her long and hard, his eyes steely. “Who has been putting such nonsense into your head, Alexandra?” he said. “Amberley? He seems to have some strange notions. And that brother and sister of his seem a ramshackle pair. Well, you will be his problem soon. He will doubtless discover soon enough that you are a stubborn and a headstrong woman despite my training. He will have to learn how to handle you. You had better be careful, miss. Talk to him as you just did to me and he is likely to answer you with a heavy hand.”
Alexandra did not reply, and the matter was not alluded to again. Her father’s words to her tended to be confined to unimportant grumblings.
“You are foolish to have allowed Amberley to call you by your given name,” he said once. “And ‘Alex,’ too. You should have more pride, girl. Is that the only liberty you have allowed him?”
It was a rhetorical question. He did not wait for an answer.
“The Courtneys are Amberley’s tenants?” he said on the day she was to visit Mrs. Courtney with Lady Amberley. “And you are going to take tea with them, Alexandra? That is a foolish precedent to set, my girl, take my word for it. They will be expecting you to socialize with them forever after. It would be quite enough to stop your carriage as you drive past to inquire after their health.”
Again he did not wait for an answer. Alexandra went on her way.
James stayed away from his father as much as possible, Alexandra was both relieved and disturbed to find. She so longed for a reconciliation between the two of them. She knew it was very improbable. Papa was not likely to admit that what he had done to James had been wrong, and James was unlikely to forgive him unless Papa did ask his pardon. But she always hoped. As things were, she was thankful that there was no open hostility between her father and her brother.
James spent much of his time alone or with one or more of the other men. He played endless games of billiards with Sir Cedric. If they were in company, he often allowed Anna Carrington to hang on his arm. Indeed, she seemed almost as taken with him as she was with Lord Eden. Surprisingly, James was willing to humor her. He seemed to understand the frustrations of being fifteen, so close to being grown-up and yet still a child.