Lovers and Ladies

by Jo Beverley

  “That must be very pleasant.”

  He sounded almost bitter. Deirdre sacrificed more daisies. “Are you not satisfied with life, my lord?”

  “Not particularly. I want a bride, and it appears I do not have one.”

  She couldn’t really believe he was hurt to lose her, and yet his words touched her heart. “I’m sorry. But the resolution is up to you, my lord. You have merely to disgrace yourself.”

  There was a movement. She glanced quickly sideways, but he had merely lain back, hands under head, to study the infinite blue of the sky. “I must confess, I am shirking my duty, Deirdre. I find myself liking your parents. I don’t want to embarrass them by making them throw out a guest.”

  Once having looked, Deirdre found herself trapped. She hardly listened to his words for studying his body.

  It looked even more impressive in the horizontal than in the vertical, and the tanned column of his throat, the vee of exposed muscular chest, were having a quite extraordinary effect on her nerves.

  Then she absorbed what he had said and gathered her wits. “Are you going back on your word?” she demanded.

  He glanced sideways, and even his dark eyes and lush lashes took on a new power at this angle. “No, querida. But I thought it might go easier if we all transferred to Everdon. Well, perhaps not your father—I know how it is with him. But your mother would accompany you, I’m sure.”

  She distrusted this move. She distrusted all of this, even as she felt him entangling her, just as a spider entangles a juicy fly. She inched a little farther away. “Why should we move? Are you trying to get me away from Howard?”

  “Why should I do that?” he asked with apparent honesty. “He can come, too, if he wants.”

  “Howard? Come to your home?”

  He rolled on his side, head supported on hand. “Why not? I have no objection to your courtship. The main advantage of moving this farce to Everdon Hall, Deirdre, is that I know all the available females there. I will be able to stage a spectacle to suit our requirements with no danger of hurting anyone, or creating more of a stir than we would wish. It will also mean that when you sever our connection in outrage, you will merely have to order your coach and depart while I stand gloomily by the door bewailing what I have lost. We need never meet again.”

  That caused a strange pang. “You are forgetting your mother,” she pointed out.

  It seemed he genuinely had. “I will try not to come between you. I’m sure you can find ways to meet without encountering me. But then, perhaps not. You will be married, won’t you, and doubtless will not visit London again. I would have no objection to your visiting Everdon when I am absent if your Howard will permit it…But then there will soon be children…Marriage does tend to change things.”

  Deirdre was taken aback by this vision, even though it in no way departed from her expectations of her marriage. “Yes, of course marriage will change things,” she said firmly. “It is not even clear where we will live. We will be at the cottage for a while, but Howard is talking of taking up the offer of a place at Cambridge. He does not want to teach, however.”

  Everdon appeared genuinely interested in her plans. “What he needs, surely, is a quiet place in which to think. The cottage seems ideal.”

  “It is, except that it is on the street, so he has to keep the windows shut. That is unhealthy. And it will be small when…if…” She broke off in confusion.

  “When you have children,” he supplied easily. “You will be able to buy something larger with your funds.”

  Her reaction was sharply defensive. “Howard is not marrying me for my money.”

  “I didn’t say he was, Deirdre. But it will be pointless to stay in a cottage when you have half a dozen children.”

  Half a dozen children? Deirdre had thought in terms of one sweet, smiling cherub of a baby. Now she was prey to a vision of trying to keep the peace at Foote’s Cottage with a horde of little ones underfoot. She’d seen enough crowded cottages to worry her.

  “Lie back,” he said softly.

  “What?” Deirdre was jerked out of her concerns.

  “I’m not suggesting anything dangerous. Don’t you ever lie back and look at the sky?”

  Deirdre did, when alone. Was he seriously suggesting that she lie down on the grass with him?

  “Lie back and study the arch of heaven with me, Deirdre…”

  He was.

  Deirdre thought, however, that this was not an attempt at seduction, but simply what he proposed—a study of the sky.

  Somewhat hesitantly she eased back onto the grassy slope, keeping the space between them. A quick sideways glance assured her that he wasn’t planning an attack, but had rolled onto his back and was looking up at the sky. He’d put his hands to cushion his head, which made his shirt gape further open…

  Deirdre hastily turned her own eyes upward.

  The sun, fortunately, was behind them a little, and so there was little glare. There were no clouds today, and no trees just here, and so all she had to look at was infinite blue.

  He quoted, “‘I have learned to look on nature, not as in the hour of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes the still, sad music of humanity.’”

  “Wordsworth,” she identified with pleasure, and made her own offering from the same poem, one composed on viewing the remains of Tintern Abbey. “‘And I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts…’ I’m afraid we have no such noble ruins here.”

  “There is Glastonbury not so far away.”

  “True. Do you know they say the young Jesus visited Glastonbury with Joseph of Arimathea? Some even say that the Holy Grail is to be found there.”

  “Is this the land of Arthur, then?”

  “And of Guinevere.”

  “Who married a worthy man,” he said softly, “but was carried off to destruction by the fevered power of romantic love…” After a moment, he carried on. “The stars are still up there, you know. They never go away, but we are blinded to them by the gaudy brilliance of the sun.”

  “But the moon sometimes prevails. Sometimes it can be seen in the daytime.”

  They lay there looking up at the sky and talking of wonders and little things. For a while they were free of social conventions and polite inhibitions. Then Deirdre looked sideways and found he was no longer looking upward. He was looking at her.

  Her heart fluttered madly at the experience of being eye to eye with a man in the horizontal.

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “As if I were beautiful.”

  “You are.”

  “Don’t mock me!” She would have scrambled up, but he rolled, and a strong arm and leg trapped her there. Caught in that heated prison, she stared at him, fearful yet excited.

  “I do not mock,” he said, his rich dark eyes flashing with anger. “Beauty is more than the shape of a jaw, the curve of a cheek. But if you want beauty,” he said, and touched her cheek with heated softness, “your skin is beautiful. It has the luminous pallor of a pearl.” A finger traced down her forehead, nose, and chin. “And your profile is delightful. I don’t suppose you study your profile much. And your voice charms me. It sparkles with your spirit.” That wandering finger traced her lips. “And your smile, mi corazón, your smile touches my soul.”

  His face was inches from hers, and his limbs pressed her down. This was more intimacy than Deirdre had expected in a lifetime.

  She reached for a defense, any defense. “You can’t pretend I blush prettily.”

  “No,” he agreed with a smile, “but it still delights me to make you blush. As you are blushing now.”

  Her heart was doing a mad dance in her chest, and she felt hot from head to toe. “Oh dear,” she said. “You’re flirting with me, aren’t you?”

  His smile turned brilliant. “My dear Deirdre, don’t you know?”

  “No.”


  “Ignorance can be dangerous. Perhaps I should instruct you. This, little one, is rather more than flirtation. We are being very wicked.”

  At that, she made a tentative move to push him off, but her arms seemed to have become as weak as water. “Why are you being wicked with me? You don’t really want to seduce me, I know you don’t.”

  He eased his weight over her an alarming fraction further. “Don’t I?”

  “No,” she said, but instead of a firm declaration, it came out as a squeak. “If you did, we’d have to marry.”

  His knuckles traced the secret underside of her jaw, and that brief touch sent excitement throughout her body. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you, Deirdre Stowe.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “So if you decide that you and Howard would not suit, you mustn’t hesitate to take me up on my offer.”

  That brought her back to reality. It reminded her that this was just a clever game he played, mostly fueled by boredom. She’d had a lifetime to learn she was not attractive to men, and to this man she was just a lottery ticket, no better, no worse, than any other.

  Her strength came back and she pushed more effectively, though she failed to move him. “Get off me! I’m sure you’d like to save yourself the trouble of finding another ticket in the lottery of life, my lord, but I can’t oblige.”

  He laughed, but she saw with amazement that she had made him blush. “My damn mother.” Then he sobered and looked deep into her eyes. “No, Deirdre, you are by now far more than a lottery ticket to me.”

  Under that gaze, Deirdre weakened again. “I am going to marry Howard,” she said firmly. “Let me up, please.”

  This time he obeyed and rose smoothly to his feet. He held out a hand to help her up, but she rose unaided. The farther she stayed away from Don Juan, the better.

  He picked up his jacket and waistcoat but did not put them on. He climbed the bank beside her with them slung over his shoulder. “You will, of course, do just as you wish,” he said calmly, as if those heated moments had never occurred. “I am looking forward to meeting Mr. Dunstable.”

  Deirdre looked back once at the slope, where flattened grass showed where they had lain. The grass would soon spring back and the evidence would be gone, but an impression of this interlude would linger in her heart.

  She glanced uneasily at Don Juan. “You are not to be cruel to Howard.”

  “I am never cruel,” he said, and they strolled back toward the house as if they were a conventional lady and gentleman, who would never dream of behaving in any way even remotely improper.

  Thoroughly alarmed by the event, Deirdre disappeared in the afternoon to visit Anna. Though Anna had not had the opportunity of going to London, she was much more worldly-wise than Deirdre, and much more practiced in the art of flirtation. Perhaps she would be able to make sense of what was happening. The visit to Starling Hall would also serve the excellent purpose of removing Deirdre from any occasion of further wickedness.

  “I don’t know how I came to permit it!” she declared to her friend, after having confessed all.

  “Well, it wasn’t so very terrible,” said Anna, who was bright-eyed at the story. She giggled. “It wasn’t even as if you broke your mother’s law, and let him get his hands inside your clothing.”

  Deirdre stared into space. “But it felt as if I did,” she whispered.

  Anna shivered in delight. “I can’t wait to meet him. If you truly don’t want him, can I have him?”

  This drew a laugh from Deirdre. “What a wonderful solution to everyone’s problems! But I’m afraid nothing can come of it, Anna. Once he disgraces himself to set me free, your parents will not look kindly upon his suit.”

  Anna’s bright blue eyes twinkled. “Unless he disgraced himself with me.”

  “Anna!”

  Anna was rather pink, but she carried on. “It wouldn’t have to be anything too outrageous. If you were to find us in a heated embrace, you’d be within your rights to return his ring, and he’d be obliged to marry me.”

  Deirdre didn’t know why she felt such violent aversion to the plan, but she did. “I couldn’t let you make such a sacrifice. And what about Arthur?”

  She expected Anna to laugh at that, but her friend sobered. “There is that.” She fiddled with her blue satin sash in untypical bashfulness. “There’s no comparison in wealth or rank,” she said, “but I rather think that in time, I may want to marry Arthur. It would be a pity to be already married to someone else.”

  “It certainly would,” said Deirdre. “And hardly fair to Everdon. He’s had one wife run off with another. He deserves to do better this time.”

  “Yes,” said Anna thoughtfully.

  “Anna, why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Looking at you?” asked Anna innocently.

  “Looking at me. I know that look. You’re planning something. Oh, Anna! Have you thought of someone here with whom Everdon can disgrace himself? I really would prefer not to have to go to his home.”

  But Anna shook her head. “No, I haven’t thought of anyone. Now, tell me who will be at the party…” And no amount of urging could bring Anna to confess to plans, or secret thoughts.

  Deirdre left Starling Hall an hour later, little wiser as to the ways of rakish men, and with no preventative techniques in her armory. She also now had to wonder what Anna might be up to. Hadn’t it been Anna who had locked Deirdre in the buttery with John Ransom, because she thought it would promote a romance?

  When Deirdre arrived home she disappeared into the safety of her boudoir, which was more precisely her sewing room. She needed the discipline of her art and the security of privacy.

  She took out the watercolor sketches of her wildflowers, and considered how best to portray them in silks. She knew the effect she wanted; that of wildflowers scattered on a dark green velvet cloth. She wanted them to look real, almost as if they could be picked. She began to set stitches in a scrap of fabric, trying out different approaches and different threads…

  A knock on the door made her glance at the clock. She had been here for two hours. Her mother must have sent up some tea. She called permission to enter and returned to her work.

  It was the heaviness of the step that alerted her. She looked up sharply as Everdon put the tray down on a table.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, alarmed.

  He grinned. “Bringing your tea, milady. And mine. I encountered a maid sent on the mission, commandeered the tray, requested an extra cup, and here I am.” He lifted the china pot, just like a worthy matron. “How do you take it?”

  “A little milk only, thank you,” said Deirdre weakly. Then she added, “Is this how you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Tangle women in knots. By always doing the unexpected?”

  He considered it. “I don’t think I’ve ever planned to tangle anyone in knots. Doing the unexpected makes sure people won’t grow bored, but I do what I do because I want to.” He brought over her tea, and a plate of cakes. “I invaded your sanctum for two reasons, Deirdre. One, because you are hiding from me here. Two, because I want to see your work.” He placed her tea and cake on the small table by her elbow, but then stayed to study her embroidery.

  Deirdre wanted to shield it, unused to this attention, and sure he would scoff. She had progressed to embroidering over little silk pads, to raise the petals and give them contours.

  Everdon looked thoughtfully from the sketch to the velvet. “How real that looks. You have the colors exactly, and even the shape. I feel as if I should be able to pluck the bloom, able to smell the perfume of it. I beg you, don’t make it into a cushion. No one will ever dare to lean their head on it.”

  He moved away to sit and drink his tea.

  Deirdre glowed under his praise. Part of her was saying that he only flattered to manipulate her, but she had confidence in her work, and she knew this was good. She took a piece of seedy-cake and nibbled on it.

  “Thank you
,” she said. “As to its use, I don’t know what I shall do with it.”

  “Then give it to me as cloth, and I will decide.”

  When she looked at him in puzzlement, he said, “It was agreed, was it not, that this was to be my price for setting you free?”

  Deirdre took a fortifying draft of tea. “Only if you behaved well in the meantime, my lord.”

  “And I haven’t? In what way have I misbehaved?”

  But Deirdre knew that talking about these things was extremely dangerous. She changed the subject. “Have you spoken to my parents about a visit to Everdon Park, my lord?”

  “Yes, and your mother is completely agreeable.” His lips twitched mischievously. “I confess, I neglected to tell her that I would be inviting Dunstable.”

  Deirdre almost choked on a mouthful of cake. “You can’t do that!”

  “It’s amazing what one can do if one is shameless enough. Are you all right? Should I slap you on the back?”

  Deirdre regained her breath and waved him away. “But she’ll be most put out!”

  “Put out enough to forbid you to marry me?” he asked hopefully.

  Deirdre sobered at that. “I have come to realize that breaking this engagement is going to be unpleasant for you, Everdon. I’m very sorry. If I could act in your place, believe me, I would.”

  He considered her thoughtfully. “As to that, Deirdre, if you were to be found in Dunstable’s bed, you would doubtless end up at the altar with him within the week.”

  Deirdre’s mouth went dry and she wondered how she could have made such a foolish offer. He was correct, though. It was the obvious solution. How on earth was she going to bring herself to do such a thing? What would Howard have to say about it…?

  Everdon laughed. “I’m teasing, little one. I wouldn’t expect you to act in such a way. For a hardened roué such as I, it is a mere nothing.”

  Deirdre’s heart calmed, and she felt more kindly toward him than ever before, for she knew that despite his words, it would not be easy for him. Though his reputation was well known, she gathered that his affairs had always been conducted with discretion. She tried to imagine what anyone would feel—roué or not—at being caught in intimate disarray…