by Jane Ashford
Alicia said nothing, Apparently, he hadn’t heard that she had presented Robert to his sister. She found she was glad of that.
“Well, it shan’t go further, so you can stop your laughing,” added Cairnyllan. “I couldn’t keep Marianne from coming to London, but I shall see that she doesn’t become like you.”
The bitterness in his voice inflamed Alicia’s anger so that she didn’t hear the disappointment that accompanied it. Various replies occurred to her, but she was trembling and did not trust her voice to be steady. Thus, she said only, “You are a fool,” before sweeping back to the long windows and into the ballroom. There, a waltz was just beginning, and Alicia scanned the crowd until her gaze met that of an admirer. At once, he approached and begged her to dance. Still raging inwardly, she nodded and they swung onto the floor.
Cairnyllan stayed on the terrace for a while, trying to regain control of his temper. Marianne’s indiscretion seemed somehow ten times worse for having been witnessed by Lady Alicia Alston. He longed to throttle them both, but particularly Alicia. As he forced himself to relax, he wondered at this. Why should he care what the woman did? She was less than nothing to him. He had no respect for her type and no interest in her as an individual. Yet the strength of his emotions contradicted him outright.
Pushing the thought from his mind, he too re-entered the ballroom. The sight of Marianne whirling a second time in Devere’s arms made him grimace, but it was another couple that caused him to turn his back and stalk to the sofa where Lady Cairnyllan was chatting with two older women. The waltz, he decided, was indeed an immoral dance, as certain commentators had suggested. And Lady Alicia’s pliant grace in it was simply another sign of her flawed character. He would not think of her again. But as he took up a position behind his mother, Cairnyllan’s eyes persisted in defying him, following a silver-blue-clad figure around the ballroom.
Five
The following day, Alicia called at Emma’s townhouse in Berkeley Square to look over the new furnishings she had been accumulating. Emma was doing a complete renovation of the place, which had not been touched, she insisted, since Jack’s grandmother died thirty years before.
“What about his mother?” asked Alicia with a smile as they walked through the newly decorated rooms and she dutifully admired shot-silk hangings, Egyptian-style sofas, and intricately inlaid tables.
“She never comes to London. She was telling me when we visited how glad she was to have no daughters to bring out.” Emma grimaced. “She practically ordered me to produce four sons, just as she did.”
Alicia burst out laughing.
“It is easy for you to laugh. You wouldn’t find it so funny if she was your husband’s mother.”
“I’m sure I shouldn’t,” replied the other, eyes dancing.
“Oh, I suppose it is funny. Come back to the drawing room, and we’ll have some tea.”
When they had settled there and rung for refreshment, Emma looked around with great satisfaction. “I had no notion what fun it was buying furniture, Alicia. You should try it. Your house is full of old things.”
Alicia surveyed the blue walls, scarlet draperies tied back with gold tassels, and brilliant Turkey carpet. Emma, she thought, had fallen too far under the influence of the Prince Regent’s style of ornament. She murmured something which might be taken for agreement, having learned years ago that Emma’s enthusiasms were intense but brief.
“It would give you something to do. You are always complaining about being bored.”
“Not always, Emma.”
The tea arrived, and she paused to pour, looking pensive. “It’s true you haven’t mentioned it today,” she admitted. “Nor when I saw you last. In fact…” She eyed her friend closely. “Have you fallen in love, Alicia?”
Alicia almost choked on her tea. “What?”
“I always used to tell you you should, remember? And it would certainly explain the way you have been acting lately.”
“I haven’t been—”
“Yes, you have. Everyone’s noticed it. Even Roddy, though you seem to have diverted him. We’ve all talked about it.”
This disturbed Alicia. She had always enjoyed being the center of an admiring group, but now she realized that her position might have drawbacks as well as advantages. She was not at all eager for such close scrutiny just now. She tried to think of some light answer that would satisfy Emma and turn her thoughts in a new direction.
“Love is amazing,” continued Emma dreamily. “If anyone had told me when I first came to London that I would moon about like a sick calf over Jack, I would have laughed in her face. Why, Jack isn’t even very handsome.”
Alicia, who had thought this from the first but never dared say it, raised her pale eyebrows.
“But he’s wonderful. So jolly and kind and…” Emma’s brown eyes misted reminiscently, and her lips curved in a secret smile. Alicia watched her with curiosity, and a little envy. She had never heard her friend talk so before, but they had seen little of one another since her wedding. It was only now, in town again for the Season, that they had the usual opportunities to meet. “I wonder what it is,” murmured Emma, half to herself, “that makes one man stand out suddenly. You are going along quite happily, flirting with dozens of them, and then you turn and meet his eyes, and…” She shrugged. “That’s that. It remains only to inform the gentleman—discreetly, of course.” Her dimples showed. “It is enough to make one believe in Cupid, like the Greeks. Or was it the Romans?”
Alicia laughed again, but she was interested in spite of her desire to turn the subject. What Emma described sounded very much like what had happened to her with Cairnyllan. Not that she felt anything of the kind now, of course, but it was interesting that their experiences had been so alike. Alicia felt another twinge of envy watching her friend’s happy expression. “It is not always so simple,” she replied involuntarily.
“Oh no. How dreadful it must be to fall in love and then find the man isn’t. And I know I was annoyed when someone I didn’t care for followed me about and vowed undying love. I was very lucky.” Her inner smile reappeared for a moment, then her eyes widened and she turned to stare at Alicia. “Don’t tell me that you…”
“This has nothing to do with me, Emma. I don’t know what can have put the idea in your head. Perhaps you think so much of love because of your own situation.”
Emma considered this, frowning. “Do you think so? But you have been different, Alicia, and—”
“I am growing old and crabbed. But I am not in love.” It was perfectly true, she told herself. Whatever she might have felt once, it had died when Cairnyllan had insulted her.
“Oh, well.” Emma looked regretful. “It is too bad. It would be good for you.”
“I doubt it.” Alicia could not keep a certain amount of scorn from her voice. She had seen how good it was.
“It would. But never mind. You’ll see, someday.”
Alicia decided it was safest to leave the subject there, though she felt like protesting again. “Have you seen the new play everyone is talking of?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Jack and I went three nights ago. You would love it, Alicia. It is very amusing.”
“Really? Perhaps I will go tonight. I think Lavinia spoke of taking a box.”
Emma nodded. “I nearly forgot to tell you. I have been hearing all sorts of things about your friends the MacClains.”
Alicia frowned. “They are the merest acquaintances. But what can you have heard?” She wondered uneasily if some echoes of her encounter at Perdy’s had filtered back to London.
“Well, I admit I was curious when I saw Robert Devere flirting so desperately. I have always had a tendre for him, you know.”
They exchanged a grin. At seventeen, Emma had fancied herself madly in love with Devere, who had barely spoken three words to her.
“Of course you know who
his father was?”
“Robert’s?”
“No, Lord Cairnyllan’s.”
Alicia shrugged. “Also the Earl of Cairnyllan, I suppose. And also a Scotsman who cared more for sheep than—”
“No. He was Beau Alexander!”
Alicia’s blue eyes widened, and Emma nodded eagerly.
“No one connects them, because Alexander was his first name, but they are the same.”
“But wasn’t he one of the most notorious gamblers and rakes of—”
“Yes. My mother remembers him. It was she who first told me. And then, of course, I asked everyone. Some of the stories! Do you know that he lost a fortune twice over, and then won one back a few months before he died? And they say he once had three mistresses at once, each in her own very expensive house, and they met in the park one day—all three!—and there was such a row!”
“It’s impossible.” Alicia tried to connect the insufferable Ian MacClain with the infamous figure of Beau Alexander, and failed.
“It is strange, isn’t it? Do you think that is why Robert is so interested in Lady Marianne? Perhaps she is like her father and—”
“No!” Alicia set down her cup with a crash that nearly shattered the fragile china. What had she begun? No wonder he hated gambling!
Emma stared at her. “What’s the matter?”
“I…don’t care to hear such stories.”
Her friend’s eyes grew wider. “What do you mean? You are usually the one telling them.”
“Well…but…Marianne MacClain seemed a sweet girl. I’m sure you are mistaken.” Alicia knew this sounded weak, but she could think of no better reply. No wonder Cairnyllan hated London and distrusted the haut ton, she thought. Fragments of old gossip came back to her—elders expressing pity for the families of men like Beau Alexander, rumors of a public humiliation of his wife at the King’s levée.
“She is not behaving like a ‘sweet girl’ from what I hear. She is said to be ready for any mad romp, and very fast.”
Alicia’s feelings were too confused to answer this. If she had known the family’s history, would she have thrown Marianne and Devere together? Guilt rose within her, to be countered by memories of Cairnyllan’s insults. He had it coming! Perhaps he had cause for his prejudices, but he was still mistaken. Yet Marianne hardly deserved to be an object lesson for her stiff-necked brother. Her thoughts going round and round, Alicia yearned for solitude. “I must go,” she said, rising.
“Now?” Emma gazed up at her.
“Yes. I…I forgot an appointment…with my dressmaker.”
“But you saw her yesterday morning. You were telling me about the blue pelisse…”
“A fitting,” blurted Alicia. “I will see you again soon, Emma. Good-bye.” She rushed out, leaving Emma staring after her, her mouth a little open. She remained in that pose for a long moment, then leaned back on the sofa with a speculative frown. Alicia might say what she liked, but something was wrong with her. And Emma was beginning to form an idea of what it was. Slowly, she smiled, then began to giggle. Much as she loved her friend, it was refreshing to see the imperturbable Alicia so agitated.
For her part, Alicia rode home in a kind of daze. She was trying to understand what had happened to her since meeting Ian MacClain. She had been acting strangely; Emma was right. In fact, she thought now she must have been mad. Why had she urged Robert to lure Marianne MacClain? She knew his reputation, better than most, and how much of it was deserved. In her privileged position, she could be his friend without danger of gossip, but no other unmarried girl dared as much. Marianne knew nothing of London, and what if some similarity to her debauched father waited within her? Even as she rejected this melodramatic idea, Alicia decided she must talk to Robert and make him moderate his flirtation with the girl. She could find other ways of punishing Cairnyllan. Or better yet, she would simply forget him altogether. He was not worth such worry.
With these laudable resolves, Alicia descended from her barouche and swept into her own townhouse through, doors held by deferential servants. But by the time she reached her bedchamber, she was wondering why her resolves did not make her feel any better. Nothing seemed right lately, and she almost missed the days when her largest problem was how to conquer her ennui.
Lavinia was determined to see the new play that evening, and Alicia allowed herself to be coaxed into accompanying her. She was heartily tired of her own thoughts, in any case. They had an early dinner and arrived in the box Lavinia had secured a few minutes before the curtain. Lavinia leaned out to survey the crowd and nod to those of her acquaintances she had not yet seen this Season. Alicia fixed a smile on her face and sat still. She was too preoccupied to notice when Ian MacClain entered and took a seat in the pit.
For his part, he kept his head down, his expression stiff. He did not feel entirely comfortable about his decision to come to the play. His mother and sister were spending a rare night at home, so that he was not needed to dance attendance, but he could not rid himself of the notion that he was being self-indulgent. His distrust of town amusements told him that he should have stayed away, yet curiosity and a taste for drama had overcome his better judgment. He had always enjoyed reading plays, but he had never before had an opportunity to see one performed. Despite himself, he felt a thrill of anticipation when the curtain rose and the actors appeared.
The play was definitely above the average. Even Alicia found herself caught up in the action. Lavinia was enthralled, and Cairnyllan scarcely moved in his seat until the interval. When the curtain fell again, he sat back with a deep sigh and admitted to himself that he was glad he had come. Watching a play was utterly different from reading it. Perhaps London had something to offer after all.
Looking around the theater, he saw several people he had met in the past few days, but it did not occur to him to go up to the boxes as he saw many of the other gentlemen in the pit doing. He was content where he was. Then he noticed Alicia in a box almost directly across, and his breath caught. Whenever he came upon her suddenly, he had the same reaction; her beauty seemed almost like a blow. Tonight, in a simple gown of pale peach and a glitter of topaz, she stood out from the others in the audience like a jewel among pebbles. Though he knew he should not, he could not help staring.
“Won’t do you a particle of good,” declared a lugubrious voice nearby.
Cairnyllan started violently and turned to gaze at the young man on his other side. He had fleetingly noticed him when he sat down, and dismissed him with contempt, for his neighbor clearly aspired to the dandy set, which Cairnyllan detested, and he found his strangling collar, profusion of fobs, and padded coat ludicrous. “Were you speaking to me?” he asked coldly.
“Saw you lookin’ at Lady Alicia. Just thought I’d drop a word in your ear. Friendly warning, you know.”
“Warning?” Cairnyllan’s icy tone would have put a more sensitive man to immediate flight.
“No sense in other fellows suffering as I did—do.” The slight young man put a hand over his heart and sighed. His large, rather protuberant brown eyes swiveled to gauge his listener, then back to Alicia. The candlelight gleamed in his pomaded hair.
“I haven’t the slightest notion what you are talking about,” replied Lord Cairnyllan. “Or for that matter, who you are.”
“Good Lord. Beg your pardon. Ned Trehune’s the name. I believe my misfortune has affected my manners.” He looked rather pleased at this idea. When he saw that Cairnyllan was still mystified, he added, “Lady Alicia, you know. She turned me down.”
“Ah?” Cairnyllan was interested in spite of himself.
Trehune nodded, then sighed again. “I call her the Ice Queen. That hair, you know, and her eyes can certainly freeze a fellow quicker than…” He paused, at a loss for a neat comparison.
“Indeed?” Still more curious, Cairnyllan surveyed his companion. Though ridiculous in his eyes,
he was obviously a member of the haut ton. Yet his information was wholly at odds with Cairnyllan’s own observations. He sought a way to question without arousing Trehune’s curiosity. “I had, er, heard that she was a bit…fast.”
“Alicia?” He shook his head. “Must have been someone else. Oh, she’s up to every rig and row in town and knows all the on-dits, but she never so much as gives a fellow an opening. And all sorts of them have tried. I don’t think she has a heart.” He sighed dramatically again.
Cairnyllan was astonished, and not convinced. “I’m certain a friend told me she had been quite indiscreet in at least one instance.”
Trehune turned to focus a suddenly sharper brown eye upon him. His dandiacal pose wavered. “Your friend was mistaken. I’ve known Alicia for years. Everyone has. And they’d all say the same. She’s above reproach. I’d advise you to discourage your friend from that sort of gossip. She’s pretty well liked, you know. Could get sticky.” And with this, he turned back to gazing soulfully up at her.
Cairnyllan followed his gaze, a frown drawing his ruddy brows together. Trehune was serious, he could see that, and he had also seen the deference paid Alicia since he came to town. He had put it down to the general corruption of London society, to admire such a woman, but now his opinion was shaken. Yet how else could he explain the girl’s behavior with him? No sane man would call that “above reproach.” For almost the first time in his life, Cairnyllan felt confusion and self-doubt. From an early age, he had been forced to support his mother against an unreasonable and libertine father. The issues had been clear-cut, and he had known with a comforting certainty that he was right. This conviction had helped him through experiences most boys never even imagined. And as he grew older, watching over his permanently subdued mother and rebellious sister, he had had no reason to change his mind. He knew what was right and best for them. He understood the world as they did not.
Now, he was forced to wonder if he indeed understood it. Many things in London had seemed odd to him, but Trehune’s calm pronouncement was oddest of all. Could the codes of conduct be so different…but he knew they weren’t. How, then, to explain Lady Alicia Alston’s contradictory nature? To Trehune, she was the Ice Queen; to him she had been…He turned from the thought; it was too unsettling.