The Waltzing Widow/Smith

by Joan Smith

  “Your menagerie at Rose Cottage becomes crowded, does it?” he joked. “If the animals become tiresome, you must come to Chenely and escape them for an afternoon.”

  “I have been severely hinted away from that prestigious pile of stones by the owner,” she reminded him. “And his character is such that I dare not disobey.”

  “You flouted his orders to stay away from the garden party. If he ordered you to keep out of his house, would you disobey that, too?”

  “If he sees fit to issue such an order, we shall see.”

  “You have piqued my curiosity, Mrs. Percy. I hereby order you not to come for dinner tomorrow evening, and not to bring your sister-in-law with you.”

  Lucy was thoroughly amazed to find such an accomplished flirt hiding beneath Avedon’s harsh exterior. She feared he might revert to his old nature at any moment and hardly knew how far she might push him. “We shall have to wait for another occasion to test my docility. I am having dinner at Milhaven tomorrow.”

  Avedon’s voice held an edge when he next spoke. “At Tony’s or Morton’s request?”

  “Why, it is usually the hostess who issues invitations. Lady Bigelow asked us.”

  Frustrated in his attempt to learn which gentleman held the lead, he pressed on with his own overtures. “The next day, then. Are you free not to come to Chenely then?”

  Lucy remembered her Uncle Norris’s visit and preparations for the trip to Canterbury. “No, I am quite busy this week.”

  “Oh, doing what and with whom?” he asked, quite as though it were any of his business.

  “Entertaining a gentleman,” Lucy said unhelpfully. “We designing widows, you know, do not waste our time on ladies.”

  “Is another apology called for?” he asked, with a disarming smile.

  “If you truly think I came here to angle after your nephew, it is. You have completely misjudged my motives in running to ground. I came to escape a gentleman, not to chase one.”

  “How intriguing! And the visiting gentleman—he is not the one you wish to evade, I assume?”

  “Certainly not!”

  Curiosity robbed Avedon of his manners, and he quizzed her bluntly. “Is it because of this unwanted gentleman that you don’t return to Dorset?”

  “No, Fernbank was sold, as I believe Miss Percy has already told you.”

  “I meant return to your own home. Surely your family—the Walcotts, isn’t it?—would be happy to welcome you. Miss Percy mentioned it was close to Fernbank.”

  With the excuse of an unwanted lover ready to hand, Lucy did not hesitate to use it. She had not foreseen the plausible expectation that she should return to her own home. “Yes, and now you have the whole story,” she said, hoping to put an end to the discussion.

  “Not quite the whole,” he countered. “There are a few details that still puzzle me. Would your family not protect you from an unwanted suitor?” He saw Lucy’s frown, and found his own answer. “Or is it your family that press the match forward?”

  “You ask a good many questions,” she parried.

  “I am interested to learn all about you,” he said simply. The remark was accompanied by a steady gaze that unnerved her to no small extent. Avedon felt the swelling of pity and a desire to protect this woman, so recently considered an intractable foe, from all male advances, whether welcomed by her or not.

  “It is a long story. I cannot think you would be interested to hear it.” Yet she felt a strong desire to unburden the whole of it onto Avedon’s chest.

  “I am extremely interested,” he persisted.

  “Another time. This is hardly the place. We should be joining a square.” She glanced to the floor, where sets were forming.

  Avedon made no move to join the dancers. “Let me call on you tomorrow morning.”

  Lucy looked at him uncertainly. Why was it to this stern adversary that she wanted to tell her story and not to either of her more amusing and closer friends?

  “Please let me come,” he said, sensing her uncertainty, and consumed with curiosity to know her history, for he was now quite convinced she was not at all the kind of woman they had all believed.

  “Very well,” she said.

  “I look forward to it. And I shall get a look at this whelp Morton has given you, too. Why didn’t you tell me you wanted a dog? I have a new litter I want to be rid of.”

  “What a lot of unwanted creatures have come to disturb your peace this summer.” Lucy laughed. “A pity you could not just give me away to someone, or drown me, as you probably will the puppies.”

  “I shan’t drown them. They’re valuable animals. Much better than Plimpton’s. Sure you won’t have one?”

  She noticed he was minutely aware of her smallest doings, and smiled to herself. “One is sufficient. Puppies are liable to be jealous of each other, you know.”

  “I’ve noticed,” he said playfully. “Morton and Tony are at each other’s throats.”

  “You cannot call Mr. Carlton a puppy.”

  “You don’t hesitate to call Tony one, eh? Poor devil, he’s been run off by that hound of a Carlton.”

  “I didn’t mean that! I am very fond of Tony.”

  “Is it a bitch Morton gave you? I have a male in my litter. Males are less trouble.”

  “That has not been my experience. And in any case, I am very fond of Sinbad. We call the puppy Sinbad.”

  “We do, do we? If he takes after his dame, Morton has given you a load of trouble.”

  “No, he takes after his papa. The same coloring, and such a lively nature. He teases the chickens to death.”

  “He wants a good thrashing.”

  “Morton says it ruins their disposition to be harsh on them.”

  “I see Morton has a deal of nonsense to say, as usual,” Avedon charged, peevish to hear his cousin quoted as an authority.

  Lucy stared to see him so angry at nothing. “You are a confirmed grouch, Lord Avedon. You cannot even discuss a puppy without losing your temper.”

  “I shall require a good many lessons to tame me,” he said, and smiled to show her how eager he was to be tamed.

  When the music resumed, it was a waltz that was played. Avedon drew her into his arms and they floated around the floor in a giddy whirl. It was like no dance Lucy had danced before. Ronald was just learning the waltz and performed it awkwardly. With Avedon it seemed to come naturally. Conversation ceased, and they gave themselves over to the reeling rhythm.

  Lady Sara sat in a corner, watching her brother make a fool of himself over the waltzing widow, as all her other male relatives were doing. She decided it was time to enlarge the widow’s circle of male acquaintances and looked around the hall for a likely candidate for presentation. She settled on Mr. Edgar, a successful merchant of Ashford, and sallied forth at the end of the music to make the two known to each other. She took Avedon’s arm and drew him away while the other two chatted together.

  “You shouldn’t have presented Edgar to Mrs. Percy,” Avedon said. “He is the very sort to take advantage of a woman in her circumstances.”

  “Au contraire, Adrian. He is the sort she ought to be taking advantage of. God knows there is nothing she prefers to traipsing through the village fingering the buttons and mauling the ribbons. A tradesman will do very well for her if she insists on having another husband. Or a husband, I ought to say, as she was very likely never married at all.”

  “Of course she was,” he said gruffly.

  “It was you who told me she was not! I know I told you to play up to her a little to make sure she doesn’t trap Morton, but I hope you aren’t going to be the next one requiring extrication from her clutches. Really I think the woman is part witch. She seems to bewitch everyone who gets near her.”

  “She is a charming lady.”

  “My dear, you have no idea how besotted you looked dancing with her. Everyone was smirking to see you so easily gulled by a nobody. You must think of your position, Avedon. Would you really want that woman to rule a
t Chenely? Another man’s leavings ...”

  Lady Sara let her eyes stray to the floor. She observed that Mr. Edgar, too, was smiling like a moonling. Perhaps Mrs. Percy had a supply of jokes that she used to entertain her partners. Lady Sara took the precaution of separating the parties from Milhaven and Chenely for dinner. She sat Lady Beatrice at Avedon’s elbow, where she was largely ignored while her companion looked jealously across the hall to the table from Milhaven.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning at breakfast Lady Sara received her reply from the Wesleys in Hampshire. A smile of triumphant astringency settled on her broad face as she read it.

  “What have they to say?” Avedon asked.

  “Just as we supposed,” she answered, her bosom swelling with importance. “There was no Captain Percy killed at Ciudad Rodrigo. There was no Percy there as an officer at all. George Wesley knew them all, and there was no one there by that name. He does not even recall any noncommissioned Percy, and if the husband was only an enlisted man, you know, he was nobody.”

  Avedon set down his cup with a blank look on his face. “It’s impossible,” he said.

  “There was an unmarried chap named Percy from Dorset in the Light Dragoons. He left his sweetheart at home and spoke of her often. George was there; he would know. And anyway, he says nothing about that Percy being killed. She is a liar, as we always suspected. She heard of the Percys somehow— perhaps she is from the area, but she is not at all who she says she is. And I greatly fear, Adrian, that she has got Morton under her spell.” She lifted her brows and nodded her head.

  “But she is a lady! So well-spoken and genteel.”

  “Genteel? Oh, my dear, you make me laugh out loud to hear you say such a thing. A pretty wench may do as she pleases with you men. Do but recall her having Tony hold her ice while she licked it—so vulgar, I nearly retched. And how well she got on with Mr. Edgar last night. Two limbs from the same tree, I swear. There is a little money there, I grant you. The establishment is well run, and she had on those diamonds. She might be a cit’s daughter, looking for a leg up the social ladder. Or an actress ...” Her voice trailed off as she mentally considered other possibilities.

  Avedon listened critically. “I noticed she doesn’t wear a wedding ring,” he said.

  “I didn’t notice it! Well, that settles it. A grieving widow would not be in a hurry to remove the pledge of her husband’s love.” She looked at her own ring finger and smiled wanly. “I would not remove mine for worlds. Odd she didn’t think of such an obvious thing as buying herself a gold band.”

  “I took another look at her letter applying for the house last night. It says quite definitely her husband is in the Peninsula. We thought the husband was supposed to be alive when she came here,” Avedon said.

  “She sat right there, bold as brass, and said, ‘He is with Wellington,’ or some such thing. She definitely indicated he was alive. She only decided to be a widow when she saw Tony, single and rich and ripe for plucking.”

  “But why did she come here in the first place, if she planned to pose as a wife and not a widow?” Avedon asked. “She could have had no thought of marrying at the time.”

  Lady Sara shook her head in repudiation of the whole affair. “What would I know about the schemes of lightskirts?” she asked, in a purely rhetorical spirit. “Perhaps her late cher ami was cutting up rusty.”

  Avedon considered this possibility and found it feasible. It seemed to jibe with all the facts. Mrs. Percy was hiding on a patron who had become obstreperous. She changed her name and marital status to make following her difficult, but once she discovered Tony, she decided to make herself available. A woman like that would be bored with no masculine company. The only thing that bothered him was why she had selected Tony for her new protector and not himself.

  As he reviewed their relationship, it occurred to him that he had been antagonistic toward Mrs. Percy from the beginning. She had decided he was too farouche for her and settled for the young pup. After last night, however, she might quite possibly have changed her tune. It should be an interesting meeting. His first object was to get her away from the chaperon. Negotiations of the sort he had in mind didn’t want an audience. He trusted she had enough town bronze to realize marriage was out of the question. In fact, as he considered it, he thought marriage had never been her intention. That would explain her refusal to move into Milhaven when Isabel invited her.

  He rose and said, “I shan’t be home for luncheon, Sal. I’m taking a run down to Seaview.”

  Lady Sara looked up with interest. Her papa had bought a seaside house at Shakespeare Cliff, near Dover, when she and Isabel and Adrian were young. The intention had been that they would spend some weeks of the summer there. Lady Avedon had taken the place in dislike and it was seldom used, except recently by Lady Sara and her family.

  “Perhaps I’ll come with you,” she said uncertainly. “Are you thinking of opening it?”

  “No, of renting it,” he replied. “The place will be a shambles. It won’t be very enjoyable for you, Sal. I’m taking my curricle to save time.”

  She envisaged the windy trip, a meeting with an estate agent, and perhaps a tour of the house, with no decent luncheon. “I shall stay home and ask Lady Beatrice to lunch,” she decided.

  Avedon breathed a sigh of relief and called for his carriage. On such a fine day the curricle would be pleasant. He knew Mrs. Percy had no objection to the open carriage, as he frequently saw her in Tony’s.

  Lucy had made a careful toilette in anticipation of his visit. She wore a fetching sprigged muslin with green ribbons and her curls were dressed en corbeille. She sat at her tambour frame, accompanied by her chaperon, when Avedon was announced. It always surprised him to find her at this domestic chore. For just a moment he felt a twinge of misgiving. What if he was wrong about her?

  Then she looked up, and he saw the glint of mischief in her brown eyes. “I did not look for you so early, Lord Avedon,” she said. “I made sure you would have estate duties to attend to before calling.”

  He bowed to the ladies. “I do occasionally abandon myself to pleasure,” he assured her. “It would be a shame to waste a day like this working.”

  “I was thinking of taking my frame into the garden,” Lucy said, “but the dust is still bothersome there.”

  “And the cow and chickens just a little closer to home than your nose finds comfortable, I wager,” he added roguishly. “I hoped I might induce you to drive toward the coast with me. I want to inspect my summer house.”

  Lucy looked doubtfully at her chaperon. “We are expecting important company soon. I should help with the preparations.”

  “Your uncle does not come till the day after tomorrow. Run along,” her aunt said. “It’s such a fine day, and you always liked the sea, Lucy.”

  Lucy wasted no time in gathering up her bonnet and a pelisse, in case the sea breezes should prove chilly. Within minutes she and Avedon were cutting along in his open carriage. He handled the ribbons of his blood horse with skill and precision. That jerking motion that made riding with Tony such a trial was totally absent.

  “Where is your summer house, Lord Avedon?” she inquired.

  “Not far from Dover. And incidentally, don’t you think you might stop “lording” me. My name is Adrian, or if that is rushing things, at least call me Avedon.”

  Lucy was unsure whether an “Avedon” merited a “Lucy,” and just nodded. “Are you preparing for a remove there for the summer?” she asked, and was aware of a sinking sensation inside her. Avedon had been a wretched nuisance, yet she knew the summer would lose much of its charm if he left.

  He turned a practiced smile on her. “I hope to spend a good deal of time there. It has occurred to me that the sea air might be just the thing for you, Mrs. Percy. Perhaps you will honor me with a visit.” She looked at him uncertainly, but he saw no real unwillingness in her attitude. “Miss Percy mentioned you are fond of the sea.”

  “Yes, I l
ike it very much,” she agreed readily

  “I would hate to be parted from you, just when we are finally achieving a less quarrelsome footing,” he said. “You must not think I am always so irritable as you have seen me.”

  “That would be difficult indeed,” she replied with a saucy smile.

  His answer was as close to flirtation as made no difference. “I think you know the reason.”

  “I haven’t the faintest notion.”

  “Come now.” He reached out with one hand and seized her fingers. “You aren’t such a slow top as that. It was your pronounced preference for the other gents that got me on my high horse.”

  “And here I thought you feared I was angling after your nephew’s fortune,” she retorted.

  Avedon released her fingers but held her with a smile. “Mine is considerably larger, you know,” he said temptingly.

  “If I were a fortune hunter, which I promise you I am not, that would count for a good deal with me.”

  “Then it is Tony’s conversation that appeals to you,” he said in a joking way. “By Jove, Mrs. Percy, I see I must step up m’ compliments.”

  She smiled at his impersonation. “That won’t be necessary, sir. It is his attitude that pleases me. He is always so eager to help, whereas some gentlemen go a mile out of their way to make my life miserable.”

  “And after all their effort they neither get their tiles laid, nor bounce off the unwanted tenant. Formerly unwanted tenant,” he added, with a wider smile.

  “May I conclude, then, that the war is over?” she asked.

  “I have capitulated completely to my erstwhile enemy. You have taken the day, Mrs. Percy.”

  Lucy settled in comfortably, unaware of any ulterior motives in her host. “Did you really think I was interested in your nephew?” she asked

  “Well, I knew he was interested in you. There is something to be said for persistence, but I daresay a lady of your experience would prefer a—more mature gentleman.”

  “I think I would,” she agreed. Lucy was still young and green enough to read his speech into a compliment. “There is also something to be said for worldliness. A more mature gentleman would not outsit his welcome so long.”