BRIGHTON BEAUTY

by Clay, Marilyn

  Chelsea schooled herself to stay calm. There was, after all, no further need to be frightened of him. Both he and his mother were firmly convinced that she was indeed Alayna Marchmont. "My whereabouts?" she returned quietly

  Rathbone nodded. "The word in Town is that" . . . he shook his head as if he could not put down the oddity of it . . . "you are currently traveling about the countryside in the company of this Mr. Harry Hill."

  "Oh, my." Chelsea smiled feebly.

  Rathbone rose from the wing chair he had occupied near the fire to fetch himself a snifter of brandy from the sideboard. "Apparently the man has got up a troupe of players . . . you being among them," he added, grinning at Chelsea as he recrossed the room to stand before the fire, absently twirling the amber liquid around in the goblet. "I actually heard something about your smashing debut on the boards in Bristol." He chuckled again as he continued to contemplate the absurdity of the notion. "Can you imagine the like?"

  "Um . . . no." Chelsea managed a weak laugh. "I cannot."

  "Of course, I knew that part to be a complete fabrication, for how could you possibly be two places at once?"

  Chelsea chose not to comment. She had no idea where Alayna was at present, but surely she was not touring about the countryside playacting on the stage! Not even Alayna would do something so caperwitted as that.

  "You know, my dear," Rathbone began afresh, his tone now solemn, "we are very fortunate in that by choosing to live abroad, we shall escape London's vicious gossip mill. I can assure you that, on the whole, the women of my community have far better things to occupy their time than fabricating vile rumors about one another."

  Chelsea lowered her gaze from Lord Rathbone's handsome face to her lap. Apparently, he was assuming from her actions this morning that she meant now to fall in with his plan for their future. Their future together. In Honduras. She could not stop the low sigh of longing that escaped her at the thought. Despite the near overwhelming guilt she felt for deceiving the gentleman so shamelessly, another part of her heart sang with joy at the prospect of marrying Lord Rathbone and beginning a glorious new life with him. For that to actually come true would be nothing short of a miracle for Chelsea.

  A small but sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "We are indeed fortunate, Rutherford. To say truth, I can hardly fathom it."

  * * * *

  At table the next morning, Lord Rathbone's countenance was again all smiles and good humor.

  "I had thought that today, Alayna, we might drive into Chester. I have yet to meet with the gentleman the land agent there recommended to me. As I do not expect the interview to take overlong, I thought the two of us might take a leisurely stroll through the shops together."

  Chelsea could not help but feel exhilarated by his suggestion. "Why, I should enjoy that very much, Rutherford."

  "A capital idea!" Lady Rathbone chimed in. "As soon as the mist lifts this morning, the day should turn off quite sunny. If I were not so old and decrepit, I admit I would greatly enjoy such an excursion myself," she added with a laugh.

  "Then you must come with us, Aunt Millicent," Chelsea said, turning a concern-filled gaze upon the feeble old woman.

  "No, no." She laughed. "You children run along. I shall sit by the window and enjoy the sunshine right here."

  "Are you quite certain, Aunt Millicent?"

  "Indeed! I am certain."

  Lord Rathbone began afresh. "I should warn you, Alayna, we've nothing like the Rows in Honduras. If you feel you have need of anything . . . feminine fripperies or such . . . I would advise you to make your purchases now while you've the opportunity."

  "Oh, well, I" . . . Chelsea shot another glance at Lady Rathbone . . . "I can't think of anything I especially need. Perhaps I could purchase something for you, Aunt Millicent. Once Rutherford . . . and I . . . are gone, there will be only Jared and Mrs. Phipps to give a thought to your comfort."

  "You are very thoughtful, Alayna," Lady Rathbone said smiling, her tone sincere.

  "Yes, she is, very, isn't she, Mother?" Lord Rathbone put in agreeably. He turned another warm smile on Chelsea. "I must admit, Alayna, that your good nature and sweet temperament has quite taken me by surprise. As I recall, you were a bit of a terror as a little girl." His lips twitched as he gazed fondly at Chelsea.

  "Indeed, she was!" Lady Rathbone added. "Why, I never saw a more selfish and willful little girl, and . . . "

  "And you and our other aunts spoiled her shamelessly!" Rathbone sputtered accusingly, though affection was still evident in his tone.

  "Well, she was a darling child nonetheless, all golden curls and . . . " Lady Rathbone cast a gaze at Chelsea, who held her breath while awaiting the conclusion of this sentence, " . . . and dimples."

  Exhaling a relieved breath, Chelsea hurriedly put in, "As I recall, you were positively horrid, Rutherford. You used to tease me incessantly simply because I was a girl and too little to defend myself."

  "Well, we are both grown up now," he reached for his coffee cup and sat back in his chair to sip it, " . . . and I should like to take you into Chester and buy you a gift."

  "A gift?" Chelsea's brown eyes became round with delight. "But . . . why?"

  "Because I've not yet bought you a betrothal present, and I should like it to be something special."

  "Oh-h-h," Chelsea drew the word out tremulously. She had never received a gift from a gentleman before.

  Dressing for their outing, Chelsea could not put down the feeling of breathless anticipation that had assailed her yesterday morning when she saw Lord Rathbone at table again and that continued to beset her every time she found herself in his delightful company. She had hardly slept for thinking about him, reliving again and again the wondrous feel of his lips on hers, and going over and over in her mind all that he had said to her since. Uppermost in her thoughts was the fact that he had said he loved her. But, of course, she told herself, he did not really love her. He loved Alayna. A pang of sadness stabbed her. If only she could remember that.

  Last evening, she had thoroughly enjoyed sitting by the fire with him as they continued to talk far into the night about the wonderful life that awaited them in Honduras. Chelsea sat enthralled as Lord Rathbone spoke at length about the plantation. She learned that a portion of his land was given over to the growing of sugar cane and that he was experimenting with a new type of irrigation pump, as well as the rotation of various crops.

  In spite of the niggling anxiety in the back of her mind that she was showing far too much interest in affairs that did not really concern her, she asked question after question of him, knowing all the while that her questions pleasured him. And pleasing Lord Rathbone, she found, gave her the greatest joy she had ever experienced in her life.

  Now, as Dulcie helped her into another of Alayna's lovely frocks . . . this one a pretty blue and white striped round gown with a tiny blue velvet spencer jacket . . . she greatly looked forward to spending the entire day with him. After settling the matching blue toque bonnet onto her curls, she drew on a pair of long kid gloves and hurried belowstairs.

  In the hall she caught sight of Lord Rathbone imparting instructions to one of the liveried footmen. Not even trying to squelch the tingling sensation that pulsed through her veins as her eyes raked over his attractive form, she openly admired his rugged masculinity. He looked as handsome as ever this morning in a cut-away coat of dark brown superfine with a pair of thigh-hugging beige breeches tucked into polished brown top boots.

  Upon hearing her clipped footfalls on the bare stone floor behind him, he turned to face her. Chelsea at once returned the smile of greeting on his face, then noticing the canary yellow waistcoat he wore, her smile became a laugh.

  "How very fetching you look!" she said, reaching a gloved finger to flirtatiously tap his broad chest, brilliant in the yellow silk brocade affair.

  Rathbone laughed a bit sheepishly. "A bit showy, I expect. I confess it is not my usual style."

  "Nonetheless, I like it very mu
ch. It makes you look like a . . . a . . . "

  "Swangra buckra?"

  Chelsea laughed merrily "A what?"

  "Swangra buckra," Rathbone said again, as he curled her hand over the crook of his arm and escorted her into the sunny courtyard. "It's a term the Negroes use when referring to an elegantly dressed white man. I believe the literal meaning has something to do with a powerful or superior being."

  "Then they are exactly right," Chelsea returned gaily.

  "I daresay you flatter me, my dear."

  "No, I don't," Chelsea returned quietly, then blushed to her toes when his answering smile sent waves of pleasure coursing through her.

  As the small curricle jounced along the sun-dappled countryside, Chelsea thought she'd never felt so happy and content in all her life. Even the blood red poppies and sky-blue cornflowers dancing in the fields they passed seemed to nod gay greetings to them. Overhead she was aware of birds chirping and trilling in the tree-tops and when a butterfly, looking much like a flying splash of color, whizzed past her nose, she felt as giddy as a child being let out of doors after a long cold winter of confinement.

  Without considering what she was doing, she snuggled a bit closer to Lord Rathbone on the cushioned bench, enjoying to the hilt the warm feel of his hard thigh pressed to her softer one.

  Apparently feeling every bit as contented as she, he edged closer to her. "Having you close beside me feels nice, Alayna," he murmured.

  Her heart fairly bursting with joy, Chelsea smiled up at him. "I've never been so happy, my lord," she whispered, gazing at him through mist-filled eyes.

  "Nor have I," he returned gravely. "To say truth, I am very pleased with the way things have turned out between us. I admit, when Mother and our aunts Lettie and Eudora first began to push for the match, I was against it." He paused, as if considering whether or not to proceed. "If you must know, it was your letters, Alayna, or rather, what I perceived from your letters . . . as infrequent as they were," he added, his tone growing hard. "At any rate, they were quite full of . . . well, your ton activities, new ball gowns, your various jaunts here and there, riding in Bath . . . " He halted abruptly. "By the by, you never did tell me why you ceased to ride. As I recall, you were quite an accomplished horsewoman." He turned a questioning gaze on Chelsea.

  The moment he had begun to speak of Alayna had been so jarring to Chelsea, she had fairly reeled from the blow. "I . . . I simply gave it up," was all she could manage now.

  "Hmm, I see. Well, in any event, you seem to have also given up many of your former undesirable traits. And I daresay I am glad enough for the change in you. Mother is quite right, you have become a very charming and selfless young lady. I confess I feel privileged to make you my wife."

  Chelsea felt like dead weight on the bench. How quickly she had forgotten that she was, indeed, only playing a part.

  The sickening feeling in her stomach had not left her by the time they arrived at the famed Rows in Chester. Before they even reached the land agent's office, several townsfolk recognized the pair of them and remarked gaily upon the forthcoming fair to be held on the castle grounds.

  "I expect in my absence you and Mother have finalized your plans for the upcoming festivities," Lord Rathbone remarked to Chelsea, after yet another person had commented upon it.

  "Yes." She nodded. "All is readiness now. The placards were posted near a week ago."

  "Ah, yes. I quite forgot I had promised to do that for you. But I see that in your usual competent fashion, you handled it quite well without me. You are a marvel, Alayna." He smiled down upon her.

  Chelsea made no comment, though the compliment warmed her.

  After spending a few moments at the land agent's office, the two set out to browse through the many interesting shops. To appease the gentleman, Chelsea felt forced to make a few small purchases . . . a half dozen pairs of kid gloves, a box of linen handkerchiefs and two lengths of plain white muslin suitable for light summer gowns.

  "You will be glad enough for it," Lord Rathbone said as they exited the shop. "Summers can be quite warm in the tropics. More often than not, I return to the house at the end of a long day in the sun with my shirt sleeves rolled up and perspiration dripping from my brow."

  Chelsea found it difficult to imagine that the elegantly attired gentleman striding along beside her could ever appear so disheveled as all that.

  Apparently divining her thoughts, he grinned. "I doubt you will refer to me as a swangra buckra then. In fact, I wonder if you will admire me at all when my trousers are splattered with mud and my once white shirt is soiled, or torn beyond repair."

  In an effort to keep from saying that she would admire him no matter what, Chelsea turned her face away, biting her lower lip so hard she feared it might bleed.

  They strolled in silence for a spell, then at length Lord Rathbone said, "I daresay the time has come for me to select a gift for you, sweetheart."

  They were approaching a small shop with a window full of sparkling jewels. Pausing before it, Lord Rathbone slipped an arm about Chelsea's slim waist and drew her closer to his side. "Just there," he said, pointing a gloved finger at some item displayed in the window. "What do you think? I spotted it a week ago and almost purchased it then, but decided to wait 'til we came into town together. Do you like it?"

  "I-I'm not sure which piece you mean," Chelsea said quietly, realizing that even if she wanted to, she would be unable to stop him from purchasing a gift for her. Of course, whatever he bought, she would hand it over to Alayna the minute she returned to the castle.

  "Just there. The heart-shaped locket with the tiny diamond in the center. I realize it isn't at all showy, but upon our marriage, you will, of course, inherit a good many lovely pieces from Mother. In the meantime, I have not seen you wear even one piece of jewelry, Alayna, and I should like to give you something that you might wear every day." His voice grew hoarse. "To remind you how very much I love you," he concluded, his final words just above a whisper.

  "Oh-h," Chelsea breathed, longing with all her soul to echo the sentiment. "It's . . . beautiful, Ford. I shall be very proud to wear it . . . always," she added sincerely.

  Lord Rathbone's chest expanded proudly. "Then it's yours. Come, I shall purchase it straightaway."

  * * * *

  On the return trip to the castle, Chelsea could not help reaching up at intervals to finger the golden locket clasped around her neck. The warm metal against the bare skin of her throat felt rich and smooth. She had not worn jewelry these last weeks for the simple reason that she did not own any, and apparently thinking that jewelry or accessories were unnecessary in the country, Alayna had not included any of her own when she had packed the two trunks that had accompanied Chelsea to Chester. Though, of course, Chelsea knew that Alayna did have quite an extensive collection of very costly pieces . . . diamond brooches, pearl necklaces, ruby earrings and a number of expensive bracelets to match. And Chelsea knew Alayna wore them often. Chelsea again fingered the locket. Alayna, she feared, would find this little trinket quite plain, perhaps even too plain to wear.

  Chelsea tried to show a cheerful face that evening and again when she came down to breakfast the next morning. She knew her time with Lord and Lady Rathbone was growing short. Alayna would be returning to the castle any day now. What would happen to Chelsea then was anybody's guess.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Her Circle of Deception”

  "We shall take an excursion to Pemberton Keep this afternoon," Lord Rathbone declared, turning a smile upon Chelsea as she slid into her place that day for luncheon. "I sent word to the Pembertons last evening that we would be calling. It's been an age since I visited them. I collect you were once a favorite of Lady Pemberton, Alayna."

  "Why, you are quite right, Rutherford," Lady Rathbone put in. "I completely forgot how fond Eleanor was of Alayna. We should have sent a note 'round telling her you were here. I am sure she would have come to tea."

  "Indeed, we should have," Chel
sea murmured, at a loss as to who the woman was and unable to summon the least bit of enthusiasm for yet one more trial she must endure before this hated charade was behind her.

  "You are welcome to come with us, Mother," Lord Rathbone said, his eager tone a direct contrast to Chelsea's flat one. "You and Alayna could visit Lady Pemberton while I consult privately with Arthur. It seems Mr. Osgood, whom I am thinking of hiring as your new steward, was once employed by Arthur. I mean to quiz Pemberton thoroughly about the man."

  "Well, you may go right ahead and do so," Lady Rathbone said with a laugh. "I shall be content to stay right here. Give them both my regards and tell Eleanor that I am greatly looking forward to seeing her at our ball come the end of the week. Alayna, you must remember to show Eleanor your new locket. She has such an appreciation for lovely things."

  "Indeed I will," Chelsea murmured, reaching to finger the pretty necklace, which she had not taken off since Rutherford clasped it around her neck.

  Lord Rathbone directed another smile at Chelsea. "Alayna has promised to wear the locket always."

  "That was very sweet of you, my dear," Lady Rathbone said.

  "Well then," his lordship concluded, reaching to help himself to yet another serving of roast beef and asparagus. "We shall leave just as soon as I have gone over last week's accounts. Shouldn't take overlong."

  Chelsea nodded in silent agreement and in spite of the gnawing anxiety she felt over being put to yet another test, found herself quite looking forward to spending the long afternoon in Lord Rathbone’s agreeable company.

  Abovestairs, she took her time leisurely donning another of Alayna's lovely gowns . . . a lavender sprigged dimity trimmed with blond lace at the neck and sleeves. She finished off the picture perfect outfit with a wide-brimmed leghorn bonnet that tied beneath her chin with a lavender satin ribbon.

  "You look as charming as ever, Alayna," Lord Rathbone said, a flick of his wrist setting the horses drawing the small carriage into motion.