by Brenda Hiatt
Once or twice during their ride she glanced back to see whether the man she had noticed earlier was still following them, but saw no sign of him. Most likely it had been a stranger simply enjoying a walk in solitude, she thought with relief. But as she left the Park after parting cordially with Christian, a shadow detached itself from the Park gates and ambled off down the street after the Earl.
Back at Beauforth House, Azalea felt more than satisfied with the results of her outing. She knew without a doubt that Christian cared for her, at least a little. And it was clear that she had managed to at least prick his memory. In time it might return in its entirety.
All would soon be straightened out, she was sure of it. Smiling into the mirror as Junie pinned up her hair, she found herself quite impatient to assume her rightful place as his wife, especially now that she'd had a taste of what joys that position might involve.
Azalea hummed softly to herself as she descended to breakfast a few minutes later. "Isn't it a lovely morning?" she asked her cousins brightly as she entered the dining-room. Walking to the sideboard, she helped herself to a generous portion of kippers and eggs.
"Did you go riding this morning?" asked Marilyn. She obviously considered her American cousin slightly deranged to have formed the habit of being abroad at the uncivilized hour of nine o'clock, or even earlier.
"Yes, I did," answered Azalea, taking her seat and picking up her fork. "And guess who I encountered in the Park?" She had decided that her cousins might need some preparation for what was to occur.
Neither answered, so she continued. "Lord Glaedon! He is returned to Town and promised to call, probably this afternoon." For obvious reasons she had said nothing of his visit yesterday.
Rather to her surprise, Marilyn frowned. "I did not know he was to return so soon. Still, it is flattering, I suppose, that he should wish to see me immediately."
It seemed obvious to Azalea that any pleasure her cousin felt at the news was due to her vanity, and not from any real romantic attachment to Lord Glaedon. Indeed, since her return she had spoken so incessantly of Jonathan Plummer that Azalea doubted there could be much room in her head —or heart —for any other man. Still, if events unfolded as she hoped, it could mean a sore blow to Marilyn's pride.
Lady Beauforth, meanwhile, was agreeing somewhat absently with her daughter's statement, being occupied with the Society news in the Morning Post, which she read religiously every day lest she fall behind in the current gossip. Suddenly, she let out a strangled yelp.
"Azalea, you sly creature! Here you are, to be most heartily congratulated, and you never said a word! How wealthy you will be! Wasn't I right when I told you not to discourage him?"
Her expressive face was wreathed in smiles, but Azalea was completely mystified. She chewed quickly and swallowed.
"I am afraid I do not understand you, ma'am," she said when she was able. "Do I collect that my name is mentioned in the paper?"
"Did you not know the announcement was to go in today? Well, then, I suppose I can forgive you for not having spoken. I shall assume you meant to tell us yourself before we saw it in print." Lady Beauforth still looked enormously pleased. "Here. Perhaps you would like to see the wording yourself. He must have called here yesterday after all, though you did not say so." She handed the paper across the table.
It took Azalea a moment to find the item that had caused her cousin such joy. A wild idea struck her as she searched the page, and her heart began to flutter. Surely, Christian wouldn't have... Then, halfway down the sheet, she found it: an announcement of the betrothal of Miss Azalea Clayton to George Bemler, Viscount Drowling.
* * *
CHAPTER 14
Azalea stared at the paper for a full minute in disbelief, trying to understand how that particular combination of letters and words could have come there by accident. For surely this had to be an accident? Who would intentionally play such a cruel joke on her?
The answer, however, came at once and with blinding clarity: Lord Kayce.
Lady Beauforth, meanwhile, was chattering on about the place in Society Azalea would have as Lady Drowling, the balls and routs she could give, and when the wedding would likely take place.
In near panic, Azalea interrupted her in midsentence. "Cousin Alice, you do not understand! There is no betrothal. Lord Drowling has not offered for me, and if he had, I most certainly would have refused. I cannot imagine how this announcement comes to be in the paper at all!"
That gave Lady Beauforth pause for a moment. Then she fastened her attention on what seemed to her the most significant part of Azalea's statement.
"Why ever would you refuse him, child? Drowling is one of the wealthiest men in England. You cannot hope to do better, even as Kayce's ward."
A sudden thought seemed to strike her. "Perhaps that is the answer! Everyone knows that Kayce and Drowling are very close; perhaps he applied for your hand through your uncle —and very properly, too, I may add—and has been accepted. Of course, he should have spoken to you before any announcement was made, but if Kayce approves the match, then no real harm has been done."
"No real harm!" exclaimed Azalea indignantly. "Ma'am, think what you are saying! All of London will believe me betrothed to Lord Drowling now, when I am no such thing!"
And what will Christian think when he sees this outrageous announcement? she wondered frantically.
"Please, Cousin Alice, promise not to discuss this with anyone, unless to deny it, until I have seen my uncle. If, as you say, he and Lord Drowling are responsible for this, then it seems to me it should be up to them to have a retraction printed." And in the afternoon papers, she hoped.
"A retraction! Oh, Azalea, my dear, how scandalous! Do you wish Society to think you a fickle young lady who accepts a man one day and rejects him the next? 'Twould ruin your reputation, I vow!" Lady Beauforth groped for her smelling salts to underscore how shocking she found such an idea.
"Better my reputation than my life, ma'am," replied Azalea grimly. "And I have accepted no one. Pray have the carriage sent round. I will call on my uncle at once, in hopes of straightening this out. Do cheer up, Cousin Alice! Perhaps it is merely some prank, after all."
Lady Beauforth seemed not at all cheered by this idea, but Azalea had already left the room to fetch her pelisse and reticule.
"Shall I have the carriage sent round, Mama?" asked Marilyn, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange.
Lady Beauforth nodded gloomily, "We can only hope that Kayce will be able to bring the girl to her senses," she said.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Azalea presented herself at the door of Kayce's mansion to request an interview with her uncle. Her temper had cooled somewhat during the drive, and she now wondered whether the betrothal announcement might truly be a prank, perhaps by Drowling, rather than a plot by Kayce. In any event, she would know soon enough.
After leaving her to wait in the drawing-room some ten minutes, the skeletal butler returned to inform her that her uncle would see her in the back parlour, where he was at breakfast.
Looking about her as she followed the thin, black-clad back, Azalea was relieved to find that the mansion appeared considerably less eerie by daylight. In fact, the parlour she was shown into appeared almost cheerful. A measure of the high spirits she had enjoyed after her ride in the Park returned —until she encountered the cool, appraising expression in her uncle's eyes.
"Good morning, my dear," said Kayce without rising from the small table. His voice seemed pleasant enough.
But as soon as the manservant had bowed himself out of the room, he continued, "I fancy your presence here at such an unseasonable hour means that you have seen a morning paper. I rather expected that you would call."
"You know about it then?" Azalea's eyes narrowed, and anger began to well up in her again, along with a cold touch of fear. "You do not seem particularly surprised or upset that someone would play such a tasteless prank upon us."
/> "Why should I be surprised or upset at the appearance of an announcement I wrote myself?" returned Kayce with a thin smile. "I regret the shock this may have caused you, but I thought it best not to delay the announcement, when the wedding is to take place so shortly."
His matter-of-fact tone put her off her stride for a moment and she raised her hand to her head, overcome by a sudden feeling of unreality. "Wedding? But there has been no betrothal!"
"Indeed there has, my dear," replied Kayce calmly. "Drowling and I have come to a most satisfactory arrangement on the matter."
"Without my consent?" She was aghast. "I refuse to have anything to do with this! I do not even like Lord Drowling, and could not marry him if I did. I intend to send a retraction to the Post the moment I return home." Azalea's fear was forgotten in her indignation at this blatant manipulation of her future.
Lord Kayce, however, appeared completely unruffled. "The announcement has appeared in the other papers as well, my dear —did you not see them? In any event, no retraction will be printed. I am your legal guardian, and you will marry whomever I think best suited to the position. The contracts are already drawn up. Pray try to accustom yourself to the idea. Drowling seems to think quite a lot of you, and may even make you happy. He is not unskilled, by all accounts."
Irresistibly, Azalea was reminded of Christian's caresses yesterday, then thought of Drowling in his place. A wave of revulsion swept through her.
"You can hardly force me to take the vows against my will, Uncle," she said in what she hoped was a reasonable tone. "I assure you that I cannot marry Lord Drawling."
"Certainly you can."
The utter confidence in his voice alarmed her. If he had been the one behind the attack on Mr. Timmons, he must have obtained the marriage proofs —and had probably already destroyed them. Something of her dismay must have shown in her face, for her uncle again smiled thinly.
"I believe you begin to understand. I wouldn't bother trying to talk Drowling out of it either, if I were you. He stands to gain almost as much as I do from the match. He appears to desire you for other, ah, reasons as well. A most eager bridegroom, in fact. You should be flattered."
Azalea hesitated. It was still just possible that she was wrong. Perhaps Lord Kayce was yet unaware of her existing marriage. If that were the case, then bringing Christian's name into the argument at this point might do more harm than good. She bit her lip, trying to decide her best course.
Kayce's glance became impatient. He disliked having his morning routine disrupted, and though he had known this scene was inevitable, he felt that everything necessary had been said. Besides, there was something in the girl's face that reminded him all too forcibly of his brother, the one person who had exerted a measure of control over him in his youth.
"There is no more to be said," he told her abruptly. "I shall send for you in a few days to discuss the wedding." She was pointedly being dismissed.
"There is quite a lot more to be said, Uncle," replied Azalea determinedly, "but I suppose it can be said later."
Without waiting for the ghoulish butler to show her out, she left the house and re-entered the waiting carriage.
* * *
One glance at Azalea's face told Lady Beauforth that Lord Kayce had not been able to change his niece's mind. Looking as grim and determined as she had an hour ago, she proceeded directly to the library upon her return, not even pausing long enough to remove her pelisse.
Although her ladyship knew it would be wiser to say nothing to her young cousin while she was in this mood, her curiosity overcame her good judgement, as it so often did. Following her into the library, Lady Beauforth attempted to find out what had gone on.
"Well, my dear, what did your uncle have to say? Was the announcement a hoax, as you thought?"
"No, Cousin Alice, it was not," Azalea stated flatly. "In fact, this whole thing is entirely my uncle's doing, and he had the effrontery to tell me that I can do nothing about it. I mean to prove him wrong." As she spoke, she was purposefully pulling paper and pen out of the writing desk.
"What— what do you intend to do?" asked Lady Beauforth fearfully.
"I intend to send a retraction to the papers —all of them. If I do so immediately, it might make the afternoon editions."
Lady Beauforth made a last, despairing effort to talk Azalea out of such a disastrous course. "But, my dear, is it not possible that your uncle knows best in this matter? After all, Lord Drowling is a brilliant match, far above what you might have expected as a virtual unknown with only whatever dowry Lord Kayce sees fit to bestow. No doubt he has been very generous on your behalf to bring this about."
Azalea was already writing and made no reply. Encouraged by her silence, Lady Beauforth continued. "Besides, it is not as though Lord Drowling were ugly, or so very old— why, many account him quite handsome, and he is but two or three years older than I. Pray try to accustom yourself to the match, my dear—it will save so much trouble and speculation if you do. And just think of the fun we shall have shopping for your trousseau! No doubt Lord Kayce will forward you a substantial sum for that purpose, as he is so set on the match."
At that happy thought, Lady Beauforth looked hopefully at the girl, certain that this last consideration would sway her. She was, after all, female.
Azalea, however, merely folded up the note she had written and addressed it. "Would you mind if I had one of your footmen take this round to the papers, Cousin Alice? I'd like to have it done as soon as possible."
Lady Beauforth's face fell. "Very well," she said heavily, and rang for the footman.
Abruptly contrite, Azalea rose to give her cousin a quick hug. "Please don't worry so. Trust me. This will all turn out for the best."
Lady Beauforth felt somewhat reassured by her young charge's confident tone. She had always acted intelligently before, after all, and perhaps, just perhaps, she really did know what she was doing.
Azalea, meanwhile, prayed that her words might prove true. In reality, she felt far less confident than she sounded. If Kayce had obtained the marriage documents, she might not be able to persuade him to call off this horrible wedding he planned.
As the fashionable hour for afternoon callers drew near, Azalea vacillated between hope and fear that Christian would come as he had promised. Would he have seen the announcement by now? How would he react? Would he be angry? Or, even worse, what if he did not care?
She would have to tell him the truth about their marriage, she had decided, whether she'd prepared the ground well enough or not. With the marriage documents gone, he was her only hope for thwarting Kayce. But when, and where, was she to do so?
She intended to deny her betrothal to anyone who would listen, so there would be no need of privacy for that, at least. Surely Christian would listen to her explanation about the announcement; and, if not, there would be the retraction tomorrow to validate it, she comforted herself. As to the other —she would have to wait until they were alone for that explanation.
Did everyone read the Society columns, as Cousin Alice asserted? Surely not. Before today, Azalea herself had scarcely ever glanced at them, though of course she knew that she was not exactly a typical member of the London haut ton. At any rate, the majority of the fashionable world would not be in Town until April, and by then all of this would have been long settled. But oh, how she wished that it were settled now!
Christian did not come.
While Azalea considered his absence a definite setback to her plans, Marilyn did not appear to notice it at all. This was likely because Jonathan arrived early, then stayed for tea. He was to go to his grandfather's for a few days on the morrow, and clearly wished to spend as much time as possible with Marilyn before leaving.
Lady Dinsmore called as well, fairly bubbling over with congratulations on her friend's betrothal. She, it appeared, did not neglect the social news.
"My dearest Azalea, I had no idea!" she exclaimed upon her arrival. "Did all of this occur while I was gone
over Christmas? I would have liked to have been the first to congratulate you, but of that I despair."
"No fear, Barbara," said Azalea wryly. "You are indeed the first, not counting Cousin Alice, but I am afraid congratulations are somewhat out of order. You see, there is no actual betrothal, and I expect a retraction to be printed on the morrow."
Lady Dinsmore looked confused. "Do you mean it was a hoax? You are not betrothed to Lord Drowling after all?"
"Yes, a hoax," answered Azalea, having decided that this would be the easiest explanation. "Lord Drowling has not even offered for me, much less been accepted. So please, if you would be so kind, if you hear anyone else speaking of it, let them know it is all a misunderstanding."
Lady Dinsmore agreed good-naturedly, although she still seemed a little puzzled, and turned the talk to poor Empress Josephine's famed rose gardens at Malmaison.
"I vow, I am dying to see the new tea roses from China, which reportedly bloom nearly all year round —and the centifolias smell like a bit of heaven, I hear." Their conversation revolved about this and other botanical matters until Jonathan managed to break in several minutes later.
"What did I hear you saying about a 'misunderstanding' a few minutes ago, 'Zalea?" he asked with interest. "Did someone actually put a betrothal announcement in the paper as a joke? Pretty poor taste, if you ask me."
She quietly agreed, but tried to convey with her eyes that she wished to speak to him later. Unfortunately, Jonathan had already turned back to Marilyn and missed her unspoken plea.
At least he is not ready to believe the worst of me, Azalea thought, vaguely comforted in spite of Christian's absence.
Throughout the afternoon and evening, several notes of congratulation and good wishes were delivered to her, some accompanied by flowers, as well as a syrupy-sweet poem from Lord Chilton, declaring his heart to be broken.
Lady Beauforth had been right, it appeared, and Azalea finally began to realize how awkward her situation was. When the Gazette was delivered that evening, she eagerly turned to the Society news. Another announcement of her fictitious betrothal appeared there, but no retraction.