Azalea

by Brenda Hiatt

  Shaken though she was, Azalea felt a nasty suspicion leap into her mind. "The saddle came with the mare, did it not?" She still did not name her uncle. If Lord Kayce had an unsavoury reputation, as Jonathan had implied, she did not want Lord Glaedon to learn of the connection just yet.

  Tom was nodding. "Aye. Looks fancy enough, too." He fingered the girth. "I think I can tighten this up enough to get you home, miss, but I'll replace the cinch before you ride out again."

  "I should say the entire saddle should be disposed of," said Lord Glaedon firmly. "And I don't recommend you attempt another gallop on that mare for quite some time, Miss Clayton. You should probably hold her to a trot, until you know her temperament better."

  Reluctantly, Azalea agreed. "It is just as well that our gallop was cut short, I suppose, as I will probably be sore enough tomorrow as it is," she added, with an attempt at lightness.

  "My dear Miss Clayton! I had quite forgotten that this was your first ride in some time. I am doubly at fault for suggesting that damned gallop." Lord Glaedon's eyes were concerned again and Azalea felt warmth flow through her.

  "Pray do not blame yourself, my lord. I was enjoying myself immensely and had no wish to stop."

  "Still, if you wish to minimize your discomfort, I recommend you walk for a bit before returning home. Trust me, I speak from experience," he concluded wryly.

  She smiled. "Very well. It will take Tom a few minutes to see to that strap, anyway."

  Christian felt a tremor go through him in response to that smile. Doubtless it was simply reaction to the excitement they had been through, he chided himself. Casting about for a safe topic, he recalled that his father had known Miss Clayton's grandfather.

  "I was surprised to learn of the connection between our families," he began as they strolled down the path.

  His companion coughed delicately. If he didn't know better, he might have thought she was disguising a chuckle. "My—my grandfather spoke of your father often. I believe they served together in India in their youth," she said.

  "So you did not share my surprise. I rather received that impression at the time." Lovely, thick-fringed green eyes watched him expectantly, giving Christian the odd feeling that he was somehow disappointing her.

  "You might have told me earlier, you know," he said, more severely than he had intended. What did she want from him?

  At his words, she frowned, and he discovered that even her frown was charming.

  "And how was I to know that you were ignorant of their friendship? For all I knew, you might have been perfectly aware of who I was but had decided not to recognize the connection."

  Christian was taken aback. "What reason could I possibly have for snubbing the granddaughter of my father's closest friend?"

  "That is best known to yourself, my lord," she returned primly.

  "Come, Miss Clayton, let us cry friends." Suddenly, it seemed imperative that she forgive him. "Now that you know it was mere ignorance on my part, surely you cannot hold my earlier behaviour against me."

  Azalea looked thoughtful. "I think I can," she said after a moment. "You were rude to me on the mere grounds of my nationality, which is not something you could reasonably expect me to be responsible for, even if it were cause for shame. Which it is not!" She flashed a speaking glance up at him.

  Increasingly bewitched by her, Christian fought valiantly against a smile. He nodded. "You are right, of course, and I humbly beg your pardon."

  She regarded him steadily, and he felt his pulse accelerate. He would not look away, however, and after a brief silence she nodded in turn.

  "Very well," she said. "If you will consent to learn a little about America before you condemn us out of hand, I think we could even become friends." Her look challenged him now.

  "You drive a hard bargain, Miss Clayton, as I think you know," said Christian half-seriously. "Very well, I agree to learn more about America in general and Virginia in particular, if you will be my tutor." He was finding Miss Clayton more delightful with every word that passed her lips, though her beauty was already alluring enough. She seemed both intelligent and naive —a combination he found totally enchanting and quite irresistible.

  Azalea regarded him suspiciously. Was he flirting with her? She could not account for the sudden change in his attitude, unless it were merely the discovery that she was Gregory Simpson's granddaughter.

  Such old obligations, she thought, must have more hold on Lord Glaedon than she would have imagined. It was probably all tied up in that unfathomable male code of honour.

  "Well, Miss Clayton? Have we a bargain?" he prompted when she did not immediately speak.

  "Certainly, my lord," she replied decisively. "How can I refuse, when it was I who demanded your further education? What would you like to know?"

  "Everything, of course," he said laughingly. "But you can begin by telling me more about the excellent horseflesh you claim to have seen there."

  This was a topic with which Azalea was completely at home. She proceeded to describe the breeding programs of some of the landowners of her acquaintance, as well as those of the more famous Virginia horse farms.

  As she pursued the topic, she realized that she was repeating almost word for word much of what she had told this same man six years ago. Noticing his occasional slight frowns, she could not help but wonder whether he remembered at least parts of that prior conversation. Then another possibility occurred to her.

  "I fear this has become quite a lecture, my lord. I do tend to run on when discussing a subject that interests me, and I have no wish to bore you."

  "Bore me? With talk of horses? Impossible! If I seemed distracted, it was merely that I was considering ways of implementing these American innovations in my own stables. Pray continue," he said with every appearance of sincerity.

  Azalea thought this explanation likely enough and resumed her "lecture."

  In fact, Christian had been less than candid. He was certainly not bored; he suspected that Miss Clayton could discuss Greek history without losing his attention. But he was feeling the oddest sensation of having been here before —of having heard these same words spoken in that same voice.

  Flashes of sunlit fields and apple blossoms arose in his mind, and suddenly he was reminded of his nightmares. He realized that Azalea had stopped speaking, and he looked at her questioningly.

  "My lord, I must get back," she said with an apologetic smile. "I will likely be missed as it is. At any rate, you have heard most of what I can remember at the moment about Virginia's best-known stables."

  "Very well, Miss Clayton," said Christian reluctantly. He found he was very much loath to let her go. "I shall look for you to continue my lessons very soon."

  They returned to the horses, where Tom had finished his repairs, and Christian helped Azalea to remount. Retaining her hand for a moment, he brushed her gloved fingertips with his lips. Then, without a word, he swung up into his own saddle and rode off.

  Azalea gazed after him until she suddenly remembered Tom's presence. Almost guiltily, she removed her hand from her cheek, where it had unaccountably strayed, and turned thoughtfully towards the gates.

  On re-entering Beauforth House, Azalea was extremely relieved to encounter neither of her cousins. The details of her outing would be sure to cause some awkwardness.

  If asked directly about her ride, she would mention the meeting with Lord Glaedon, of course. Otherwise, her cousins might very well discover it from Tom, or even the Earl himself, and would think her reticence suspicious. Somehow, though, she rather doubted that Lord Glaedon would mention it.

  Still, she was glad that her resolve to be truthful was not to be immediately put to the test. Reaching her bedchamber undetected, Azalea quietly opened the door, only to be confronted by a reproachful Junie.

  "Thank heaven you're back, miss! It's 'most ten o'clock, and I was near frantic, not knowing where you'd gone off to! I didn't dare ask anyone, for you know how servants gossip," she said self-righteousl
y, "but if her ladyship had asked for you there'd have been the devil to pay, and no mistake."

  "Oh, nonsense, Junie." Azalea laughed to cover her alarm. "I only went riding in the Park to try out my new mare. Tom accompanied me, so everything was perfectly proper. Cook knew where I was also. If you had asked him, you could have spared yourself your mother-hen worrying."

  She knew Junie genuinely cared about her, but it did get tiresome now and again to be treated as though she were an ignorant child.

  "Well, that's all right then, miss," said Junie, only slightly mollified. "I don't suppose you've breakfasted yet?"

  "No, not really. Could you bring me up a tray? I'd like to change before going back down."

  By the time Junie returned, Azalea was clad in a fashionable powder blue cambric gown and had taken the pins from her hair in an attempt to rearrange it. She gratefully allowed Junie to take over that task, then proceeded to do full justice to the ample breakfast provided. By now it was nearly eleven o'clock, and she was scarcely surprised when she was summoned downstairs to greet a caller.

  She entered the parlour to discover Lord Kayce engaged in desultory conversation with her cousins. The sight of her uncle immediately recalled to her mind her earlier suspicions about the saddle, but in retrospect, she decided they were rather absurd.

  Upon Azalea's entrance, Lady Beauforth immediately made excuses to both Azalea and her uncle, saying that she and Marilyn were expected at Madame Clarisse's shop, where they were to meet Lady Silverton and her two daughters. Without giving her own daughter a chance to speak, she bustled her out the door, leaving Azalea alone with Lord Kayce.

  "It is good to see you again, my lord," Azalea said cautiously.

  "The pleasure is entirely mine, my dear, I assure you. And have you forgotten so soon that I am to be Uncle Simon?" He was dressed as elegantly as before, his exquisitely tailored maroon jacket opening over a matching waistcoat richly embroidered with silver. "Now that I am officially your guardian, I thought a personal visit in order."

  "Is it completely settled then, Uncle Simon?" asked Azalea, surprised that she had not heard from Mr. Timmons.

  "But for a few legal formalities." He airily waved those aside. "I came to assure you that I have all well in hand regarding your future."

  "My—my future?" asked Azalea.

  "Certainly. As my ward, your future is my concern, and I did not wish you to spend a moment worrying your pretty head over it."

  Lord Kayce was smiling benignly, almost smugly, Azalea thought, and her uneasiness grew.

  "I am to remain in this house for the present, am I not, Uncle?"

  "Of course," he replied reassuringly, having apparently noticed her anxiety in spite of her effort to conceal it. Her uncle was far more astute than his man of business, Azalea realized.

  "It would be inappropriate for you to reside with me, unless a suitable female companion could be found for you," he continued, "and, as Lady Beauforth is willing to house you and act as chaperon, the need does not arise. However, I would like to ask a favour of you while we are on that subject."

  "Yes?" Her most immediate concern had been allayed, but she still did not wholly trust him. Was he going to ask her again to sign those documents? How could she refuse a second time?

  "I shall be having a small dinner party Friday evening and I would be honoured if you would consent to act as hostess. I am anxious to show off my new-found niece to a few of my oldest friends. Will you be so kind as to do this for me?"

  "Of course, Uncle Simon, I would be delighted to." Azalea was relieved by this apparently innocent request after what she had feared. "What time shall I be ready?"

  "I'll send a carriage for you at seven-thirty," said Lord Kayce with barely concealed satisfaction. "Are you happy with the mount I purchased for you?" he asked then, neatly changing the subject before she could question him further.

  "Oh, she's marvellous," exclaimed Azalea. "Did not your Mr. Greely convey my thanks? I rode her this morning, and her paces are like silk, though her manners are just the slightest bit rough, I fear. We nearly had a mishap. But I have no doubt she will improve with training." She couldn't quite bring herself to mention the saddle, though she watched him closely as she spoke.

  "Indeed! My apologies, in that case. I assure you she came highly recommended." Was it her imagination, or did she detect a certain wariness in his expression?

  "No apology necessary, Uncle Simon, I assure you. She's a splendid animal, really."

  He smiled thinly. "I am happy that she pleases you. And now, I really must be going. I'll see you a few days hence." Lord Kayce rose smoothly, executed a graceful half bow and departed.

  Perhaps he really did mean well, she thought hopefully after he was gone. Still, she would call on Mr. Timmons in a few days if she had not heard from him, to see whether Mr. Greely had indeed brought him those documents.

  * * *

  A little over an hour later Lady Beauforth and Marilyn returned, accompanied by Jonathan Plummer, who, Marilyn said, they had encountered upon leaving Madame Clarisse's shop. Naturally, they had invited him for nuncheon, knowing what a good friend of Azalea's he was.

  Watching Marilyn's rapt expression when she looked at Jonathan, Azalea doubted whether this last consideration had actually carried much weight, but she was happy to see her old playmate in any event. She carefully observed both his behaviour and Marilyn's, and was able to conclude that her hopes in that direction were not completely unfounded. There was obviously a fair degree of attraction on both sides.

  Nuncheon was a lively meal, with Jonathan and Lady Beauforth carrying the bulk of the conversation, though by no means excluding the others. As before, Azalea noticed that Marilyn's speech was far less affected when she spoke to Jonathan.

  Between anecdotes, Azalea managed to relate Lord Kayce's invitation. Jonathan's look of concern reminded her of his earlier cautions, and after the meal she again contrived to have a brief moment alone with him.

  "I fear you may have been quite right about my uncle," she told him without preamble as they lingered in the dining-room after her cousins had proceeded to the parlour. "He seems uncommonly anxious to be made my guardian, and now I have reason to suspect he may actually wish me ill." She related the story of that morning's mishap, omitting, however, any mention of Lord Glaedon.

  Jonathan nodded grimly. "You never were anyone's fool, 'Zalea," he said. "You look so much like the other London belles now, I had dashed near forgotten how sharp you can be. Just as well you are, though, with the likes of Kayce to deal with."

  "I'm beginning to realize that. I'll be careful, though, I promise you. Should I refuse his invitation to dinner, do you think?"

  Jonathan thought for a moment. "No, it should be all right. He'll hardly try to harm you in front of a crowd, and it will be well known to your cousins that you are in his company. My advice is to play along —for now— but to keep your eyes open."

  "That's precisely what I had intended to do," she agreed.

  Lady Beauforth called to them from the parlour then, querying about their tardiness.

  "Don't forget, 'Zalea —if you need a friend, I'm always here," Jonathan whispered hastily as he turned towards the door. "At least until summer."

  "Thank you, Jonathan. I'll remember."

  But with Jonathan's cautions added to her original suspicions, she was beginning to suspect that she would need more than a friend, or even a lawyer, to deal with Lord Kayce.

  She would need a husband.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  The next morning Azalea again rose early. She had decided to make a regular habit of riding before breakfast, for she could tell that even in the few weeks she'd been living in London, her physical condition had deteriorated. In spite of her soreness yesterday, she had more of the energy she had always taken for granted back in Virginia.

  She would not admit to herself that the hope of seeing Lord Glaedon played any part in this virtuous resolution. Sti
ll, she could not suppress the feeling that had buoyed her since yesterday morning. Surely he had shown something beyond simple courtesy towards her. What that was exactly, she didn't quite dare to speculate —not yet.

  Her sore backside distracted her for most of the brief ride to the park, but as she neared the entrance, she finally allowed herself to consciously wonder whether Lord Glaedon would be there. Before she could summon the willpower to banish the fearful, hopeful, question, it was answered. He was waiting just outside the gates. If she had any doubts about whether he was expecting her, they were erased at once by his cheerful wave, along with his greeting.

  "Miss Clayton! I was hoping you intended to repeat your morning ride, though I must admit I rather feared you would be too sore to do so." He grinned as she attempted to find a position in the saddle that would cause her less discomfort. "You have a new saddle, I see."

  "Yes. I am a bit stiff, as you are obviously aware —and I think it most ungallant of you to mention it, my lord. But after being deprived of riding for so long, it would take more than a passing ache to keep me from it." She returned his grin, both delighted and relieved to find him not only present, but still amiably disposed towards her.

  "I was counting on that, actually," he said. "I propose a brief trot this morning, followed by a lengthier stroll. That should set you up admirably and relieve your, ah, stiffness somewhat."

  Azalea knew he was teasing her for downplaying her soreness, but found that she really didn't mind. "Very well, my lord," she said crisply, to conceal her conflicting emotions, and immediately sent Ginny into a brisk trot.

  Lord Glaedon kept pace with her on his beautiful black and they rode, as yesterday, in silence for a few minutes. Before the horses could become winded, the Earl pulled up and motioned for Azalea to do the same.

  "I said brief, and I meant it," he explained to her questioning look. "Trust me. You still have the ride back, and I wouldn't wish you to be unable to dance at Lady Sunham's rout tonight."