A Dare to Defy Novel

by Syrie James

  “Ah, yes. As to that.” Longford cleared his throat, glancing briefly at the girls. “You may be wondering why you are here, as it is not one of our usual special occasions. I simply thought, as you girls are getting older now, instead of taking all your meals in the nursery, it might be nice to dine together occasionally.” He darted Alexandra a glance, his eyes silently acknowledging that this had been her idea. “And, as you are accustomed to dining with your governess, I thought I would include Miss Watson as well.”

  “Thank you,” exclaimed Julia. Lillie’s smile also conveyed her delight.

  “Keep in mind, I said occasionally. Do not expect this to be a daily event.”

  “Again, it was a thoughtful gesture,” Alexandra put in. “We are all happy and grateful to be here.”

  “I hope that will still be the case, when you hear what I have to say next.” He gave Julia a look.

  All color drained from Julia’s face. Before Longford could say more, Martha and Susan entered with the first course. Fragrant bowls of soup were distributed, and the maids left. Longford took a spoonful of the broth, then said, “We need to speak about what happened yesterday, Julia.”

  Julia stared into her bowl, as if she’d lost her appetite. Although Alexandra had anticipated that this was coming, she felt sympathy for her young charge.

  “Do you realize the kind of trouble you might have gotten into, Julia, riding off to Trevelyan Manor all on your own, without telling anyone where you were going?”

  Julia shook her head bleakly.

  “A stranger might have accosted you. Your horse might have thrown you, and left you broken and bleeding. Not to mention the lack of propriety in making an unannounced visit at such an ungodly hour. What must Lord and Lady Trevelyan think of us?”

  “I know what I did was wrong.” Julia’s voice wavered. “I am so sorry.”

  “You flagrantly disobeyed a rule. I feel it my duty to punish you for this offense. Perhaps I ought to forbid you from riding Windermere for several weeks, or a month altogether.”

  “Oh, please don’t!” cried Julia anxiously. “Please!”

  Alexandra rushed to the young lady’s defense. “Isn’t that a bit harsh? If this is the first time she’s ever—”

  Longford held up a hand to silence her. “However,” he continued matter-of-factly, “as Miss Watson is so keen to point out, it is your first offense of this kind. Of any kind, for that matter. Yesterday, when I found you, I noted that you were sorry. I have therefore decided to let you off without a penalty.”

  “You have?” Julia nearly sagged with relief.

  “Should you ever transgress in this manner again, rest assured that your riding privileges will indeed be revoked, for a period of some duration.”

  “I understand. Thank you, Thomas. Thank you.”

  Alexandra, greatly pleased by the good sense and kindheartedness of Longford’s decision, lifted her gaze to his. In his eyes she read a question, as if he were seeking her approval. Flattered to think that her opinion mattered to him, she smiled and lifted her wineglass in silent salute.

  He returned her smile, then sipped his own glass of wine. Everyone ate their soup. In a spirited voice, Longford said: “Now, I have another piece of good news.”

  “What?” Lillie asked.

  “I have written to accept the invitation to Lord and Lady Trevelyan’s garden party on Tuesday.”

  Shouts of excitement burst forth from both girls.

  “What made you change your mind, my lord?” Alexandra asked, although she was beginning to suspect the answer.

  “Well, thanks to my sister’s unauthorized adventure yesterday, I was obliged to talk to Lord Saunders. And our former, friendly relations have been restored.”

  Alexandra knew there was a great deal in that statement that had been left unsaid. “I’m glad.”

  “Does this mean I can see Helen anytime I want?” asked Julia.

  “And I can see Anna anytime?” interjected Lillie.

  “Within reason,” Longford replied.

  The girls could barely contain their happiness, and immediately began chatting across the table. The main course was soon served, roast beef with all the trimmings. As they began to eat, Longford looked to be searching for a new topic of conversation. It was Julia who broke the silence.

  “Tell us about New York, Miss Watson.”

  Alexandra tensed. “New York?”

  “An excellent notion, Julia.” Longford turned his gaze on Alexandra. “You attended Vassar College, I recall, but I know very little else about you.”

  Since arriving at Polperran House, for obvious reasons, Alexandra had spoken as little about herself as possible. But now all three were looking at her, expectant and waiting. If she were careful, she decided, she could answer the question honestly. “Well, I was born and grew up in Poughkeepsie.”

  “Poughkeepsie?” Lillie repeated. “What a strange name.”

  “It’s a small city on the Hudson River, north of New York City, distinguished by the fact that it was New York’s second capital shortly after the American Revolution. The name comes from an American Indian word meaning, ‘reed-covered lodge by the little-water place.’”

  The girls laughed.

  “I think you mentioned that your father was a banker?” Longford remarked.

  Alexandra nodded, keeping her expression even. “We had a nice two-story house, painted white. Nothing like Polperran House, of course. But I loved it dearly. It had a wide front porch and a small garden in the back where I used to play with my sisters.”

  “You have sisters?” Julia said, her fork halfway to her mouth.

  “I have two: Madeleine and Kathryn.”

  “Are they older or younger?” Lillie asked.

  “I’m the eldest. We’re a year apart in age. Some of the games you and I have played the past few weeks are pastimes that my sisters and I enjoyed at your age.”

  “No wonder they’re so much fun,” Julia observed.

  “I’m so glad you enjoy them.” Alexandra felt Longford’s eyes on her, and noticed he was smiling.

  A plaintive note filled Lillie’s voice as she asked quietly: “Did you have a mother?”

  Alexandra’s heart caught. “Yes. I still do.”

  Julia looked interested. “Do you ever get to see her?”

  “I haven’t seen her in a while.”

  “Do you miss her?” Lillie asked softly.

  “Sometimes,” Alexandra replied carefully, “I think that being parted from your mother only makes you stronger.”

  Another silence fell, as everyone focused on eating their meal. A few moments later, Julia asked: “Miss Watson, did you ever have a beau?”

  Alexandra stifled a smile. It was just the sort of question Julia would ask. “A beau? Not really, no.”

  “So, you never received a proposal of marriage?” pressed Julia.

  “I didn’t say that. Actually, I received two offers, but I turned them—” Alexandra broke off, cursing herself. That can of worms was better left unopened.

  “Why did you turn them down?” Lillie asked.

  “The men did not suit me.” Again, Alexandra felt Longford’s eyes on her, and her heart skittered.

  “I hope you never marry,” Lillie insisted. “I hope you stay here forever.”

  “She can’t stay here forever,” Julia pointed out reasonably. “We will marry one day, and have no need for a governess. Although,” she added, darting a glance at Alexandra, “I am glad you are here now, Miss Watson.”

  “Thank you, Julia. So am I.”

  Thomas sipped his coffee, listening to Miss Watson’s and the girls’ amiable chatter as they finished their plum cake.

  Things had gone rather well tonight.

  It had been a stroke of genius to invite Miss Watson to dine with them. An even bigger stroke of genius to buy her the new gown. Even in that black dress of hers that screamed governess with every stitch, she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever met. B
ut in this new royal blue silk creation, which showed off her creamy skin and décolletage to perfection, she was breathtaking. All evening long, it had been a pleasure not only to listen to her, but to sit and look at her.

  It had, of course, been frustrating as well. He would have far preferred to dine with her alone. An intimate evening, just the two of them conversing about literature and art, followed by . . . further intimacies. As it was, he’d found his mind constantly wandering to the things he wished he was doing with her upstairs in his bedroom.

  He gave himself a mental shake, returning his thoughts to the proper channel.

  All of his instincts for the evening had proved right. Miss Watson’s presence here had made everything less awkward. She had been helpful—indispensable, really—in getting the conversation going. He’d been obliged to reprimand Julia, but he’d taken care of it in a way that seemed to fill his sister with relief, and appeared to have met with Miss Watson’s approval.

  Not that he was required to satisfy Miss Watson in such things. But it gratified him to think that she had been pleased. After the difficult part was gotten over, and Miss Watson had talked a bit about herself, things had progressed in such a cheerful and congenial manner. He had truly enjoyed himself, and believed that Julia and Lillie had as well.

  A fact which was verified some minutes later, after he nodded good night to the girls and they sped out of the room, promising to go to bed straightaway.

  The table was being cleared, leaving himself and Miss Watson briefly alone.

  “Thank you,” she said in a low voice, coming up to him as they both rose from their chairs.

  “For what?” His heart quickened as he gazed down into her blue eyes. She really was absolutely stunning, and in that low-cut gown. . . .

  “For dinner. For the gown. For being so lenient with Julia. She was dreading what you might say or do. Her visit to Trevelyan Manor yesterday was actually a rather heartbreaking experience for her.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Julia has a crush on James Grayson, which is apparently unrequited.”

  “Ah. So that explains why she looked so unhappy when I encountered her. I wondered.”

  “I did my best to comfort her afterward, but there were a great many tears.”

  “I appreciate you being there for her.” Thomas was touched by her sensitivity, and knew that he would have been useless at such a task.

  They moved to the door and said their good nights. He was sorry to see the evening end. She was about to go, but turned back and said: “I’m so glad to hear that you mended fences with Lord Saunders.”

  “So am I.”

  She looked up at him then, a thousand questions in her eyes.

  At that moment, Hutchens returned. Thomas felt it best to keep the details of that matter to himself. “Suffice it to say,” he replied with a smile, “that I have a new perspective on the matter.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The morning sun shone through the mullioned windows of Thomas’s study, bathing the room in natural light.

  As he ate breakfast, Thomas realized that, for the first time in years, he felt no pain over Saunders’s betrayal and Elise’s desertion. Quite the reverse, in fact. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Since Saunders’s revelations, Thomas had become increasingly convinced that he had escaped what would have been a calamitous marriage.

  If anything, he felt he owed Saunders a debt of gratitude for bringing to light his former fiancée’s true nature.

  Glancing about the room as he drank his coffee, it suddenly struck Thomas how gloomy his study was. He couldn’t do anything about the faded furnishings and decaying fabric on the walls. The pictures, however—the hideous hunting scenes, and the paintings of horses and dogs—they had all been hung there by former masters of the house. Perhaps it was time to change them.

  He thought about the paintings he had completed in Italy, then banished to the attic in a fit of . . . what? Temper? Self-pity? Perhaps both. Well, those feelings were gone.

  He stood, filled with a sudden yearning to see those works of art again.

  He dashed up the grand staircase, then up the steps to the attic, emerging into that dusty space for the first time in years. Bending low beneath the sloping ceiling, he found his canvases lined up against the wall exactly where he had left them. Locating an old rag, he wiped grime from the inside of the nearby windows, letting a bit more light into the cluttered space. Then he crouched down and looked through the paintings, some of which he had forgotten entirely. Others were like coming upon long lost friends.

  He set aside the works of his youth that, although favorites of his departed mother, deserved no better fate than to evoke fond memories upon future attic viewings. A half dozen others, however, from his Italian period, he determined to be quite good. These he would enjoy seeing again on the walls of his home.

  One painting in particular stood out as being head and shoulders above the rest. It was the landscape of the Italian garden that Miss Watson had mentioned. She had called it a masterpiece, comparable to the paintings she had admired in the museums of New York City and Europe. He couldn’t say if it truly fell into that caliber. But he had to admit, it was one of his better works.

  Thomas picked up the painting and set it atop a trunk, where it caught the light from the window. As he stepped back to study it, he was reminded of the pleasure he’d had in painting it. The sense of accomplishment he had felt when he’d finished.

  Except that he’d never felt as though it was quite finished. Somehow, he’d always sensed that something was missing from this particular painting.

  As he stared at it, Thomas suddenly realized what was missing. And he knew precisely how to rectify the matter.

  Alexandra paused in her tracks. Three days had passed since she and the girls had dined with Lord Longford, one of the most pleasant evenings she’d spent in years. The invitation had not been repeated, but since then, Longford had stopped by the nursery on two separate occasions to say hello. Once, she had even spied him from afar in the garden, sitting on a bench, and was almost positive she’d seen a sketchbook in his lap and a pencil in his hand.

  Now, having just left the nursery, intending to fetch a book from the schoolroom, Alexandra was distracted by a faint aroma coming from further along the corridor.

  The unmistakable smell of oil paint.

  A smile worked at her lips. Could this mean what she hoped it did? Alexandra followed her nose down the hall and around the corner to a distant part of the house she had not yet seen. The further she went, the stronger the smell became. When she came to an open doorway from which the scent seemed to emanate, she stopped, peering around the doorjamb.

  Afternoon sun flooded the room with light. The room appeared not to have been used in a long time. What little furniture it contained was covered by white sheets, all except for a small table, upon which were spread the familiar tools of an oil painter’s trade. In the center of the room, the Earl of Longford stood at an easel, deep in concentration as he worked on a canvas.

  Although curious to see what he was working on, Alexandra had no wish to disturb him. Silently, she withdrew and retraced her steps back to her own region of the house, warmth radiating through her.

  The day soon arrived for the garden party at Trevelyan Manor.

  As Alexandra looked the girls over to make sure they were tidy and neat, Julia said, “Do not forget your bonnet, Miss Watson.”

  “My bonnet? But surely I am not to attend the party.”

  “Of course you are.” Julia eyed Alexandra as if that were something even a simpleton should know. “We could not go without you. Governesses are expected to watch over all the children. Not that we require any looking after,” she added with an impish smile.

  Alexandra received this news with mixed feelings. Since her arrival in Cornwall, the only place she’d been beyond the perimeter of Polperran estate was Longford village. Trevelyan Manor was in the other
direction, fives miles away on the coast, which she was very interested to see.

  On the other hand, she wasn’t keen on the idea of attending a party. She’d had her fill of them in London. She worried that at a social event like this, she might be recognized, but then decided that was unlikely. The people she’d met in town were still in town, for the Season. This was to be a relatively small gathering, attended, she’d been told, only by the social elite of this remote part of Cornwall.

  Unfortunately, she had nothing to wear other than her blue day dress, for the new silk gown was far too elegant for an afternoon outing. There was nothing for it, however; she double-checked with Longford, who insisted that she was not only expected, but he relied upon her to go.

  The June sun had painted the sky a bright, cloudless blue. Longford rode alongside on horseback while John drove the coach carrying Alexandra and girls. For some time, they rumbled past endless fields. Eventually they crested a hill, opening up a new vista, and Alexandra drew in an appreciative breath.

  A vast green valley stretched before them. Boulders of various shapes and sizes lay scattered willy-nilly, as if tossed about by giants. The road wound down through the valley like a ribbon, ending at an enormous great house of granite and gray slate, surrounded by vast gardens.

  “There it is.” Julia’s eyes were glued to the window. “Trevelyan Manor.”

  As impressive-looking as the manor house was, the most spectacular aspect of the scene was the backdrop. Less than a quarter mile beyond, a stretch of low, green cliffs undulated around a curve of azure bay, where the sea spewed white foam as it crashed onto blackened rocks and a golden sand beach.

  Alexandra drank in its beauty as the carriage made its approach. Longford trotted up to the house and dismounted from his steed as they all arrived.

  Their party was kindly received in the front drawing room, which was in many ways similar to the one at Polperran House, except that here, the furnishings appeared to be new and well maintained. Lord and Lady Trevelyan, a beautifully dressed middle-aged couple, professed their delight in receiving Lord Longford and his sisters, making no reference to the gap of years since their last such encounter.