by Jane Ashford
“You did not—do not think much of our London amusements.”
“No. I’m not interested in empty chatter, and half the people I meet do not at all share my concerns. I see no reason to waste my time with them.”
Alicia blinked. This was a new view for her. Though she had often felt bored, she had attributed it to the repetition of events. “But…if you became better acquainted with them, you might find interests in common.”
Cairnyllan shrugged. “Doubtful.”
She scanned his face. “You sound so certain. Have you never made a mistake in this area?”
Arrested, he met her eyes. Was she asking about his opinion of her? But he saw only curiosity in her gaze. Still, the question gave him pause. He had been shaken by some recent developments; for the first time, his judgments were wavering, and due to her. It might be useful to explore the subject.
But before he could form a reply, Alicia said, “Oh dear, we are about to argue again, I fear. However, I have thought of something we can discuss with no danger of acrimony.” Her pale blue eyes sparkled up at him.
“What is that?” he could not resist asking, though he was disappointed at the diversion.
“Horses!” Alicia was triumphant, and he smiled again. “You bought Black Lady, did you not?”
“Yes. She is being taken up to Scotland in easy stages.”
“I hope she will adjust to the cold winters. Will you hunt her?”
He nodded. “After she has been ridden a bit. She requires delicate handling.” For some reason he felt it important to add, “Our winters are not terribly cold. We are near the sea.”
“The northern sea.” Alicia shivered. “I suppose you live at the top of a great dark crag, with the spray dashing over your terrace whenever there is the least roughness.”
“Of course,” he agreed, smiling. “In a dread castle, with turrets and a dungeon liberally supplied with skeletons. My valet is, naturally, a hunchback.”
Alicia was laughing too hard to speak.
“Marianne and my mother are forbidden to mention it, on pain of the most dreadful torments. And I dabble in alchemy.”
“Enough! Enough!” Alicia gasped for breath. “You have given me my own again, and more. I thought you were not a reader of novels. Why, you might write them.”
Cairnyllan was smiling broadly. “I have heard that much from Marianne and some of her friends. And I have twice had to bear my sister’s company in the small hours of the night, when she was terrified herself through reading such a book in her bed.”
This picture intrigued Alicia; it seemed so unlike him. “And what is your remedy for such terrors?”
“Hot milk and common sense,” he replied promptly, his face serious but his blue eyes dancing. “And I would add that our house is set well back from the sea, in a rather fine garden, and has no towers or turrets whatsoever.”
“How disappointing!”
They smiled at one another, more in charity than they had ever been, and both were sorry when the music ended and the couples around them broke up.
“Would you care for some refreshment?” asked Cairnyllan.
“I should like some lemonade.” Alicia put a hand to her hot cheek. “It is warm.”
“Indeed.” Smiling, he offered his arm, and they walked toward the refreshment room.
There they found Marianne mediating a hot dispute between two very young pinks of the ton. “I beg your pardon, sir,” one was saying icily, “but the lady is promised to me for the next set.”
“She is parched with thirst, you blockhead,” answered his rival. “Let her finish her lemonade.” And he turned his back, effectively cutting his opponent off from Marianne.
Alicia threw Cairnyllan a mischievous glance. The disputants could not be much over nineteen, and both were clearly aspirants to the dandy set. Their outrageously cut coats and high starched collars made any movement awkward, and argument nearly impossible. Even to speak to each other they had to face directly forward, for they could not turn their heads more than a few inches.
Marianne saw them. “Oh, here is my brother. And Lady Alicia. I must speak to them. I will dance with you later, Albert.”
The two young men turned, glowering, and eyed the newcomers. But neither could dispute Marianne’s pronouncement, so after a brief hesitation they bowed and stalked away. A continuation of their disagreement floated back in disjointed snatches.
Marianne giggled. “I didn’t want to dance with him anyway. How ridiculous they are.”
Her brother looked gratified.
“Why are the men my own age such idiots?” she finished, and Cairnyllan’s approval dimmed.
“They have not acquired much polish,” agreed Alicia. “But you must remember that they have been in town only a few weeks.”
“Well, so have I, but…” Marianne stopped and grinned. “I should not judge them so quickly, is that what you mean?”
“Actually, I meant nothing. You are far more poised than most young men your age. I think that is often true of girls.”
“There you are, Ian!” Marianne laughed up at him. “Have I not always told you so? You should let me guide you through the intricacies of the Season.”
“I am some ten years your senior,” he pointed out. “However, there may be something in what you say.”
Marianne stared at him, astonished. She had expected a setdown.
“You have certainly done very well so far,” he added, completing his sister’s stupefaction.
Alicia looked from one to the other, smiling. Marianne was gazing openmouthed at her brother, and he was looking thoughtfully at his feet. They seemed a very different pair from the MacClains she had first met. “I am going to get some lemonade,” said Alicia.
“Here, take mine,” responded the younger girl. “I don’t want it.” She kept her eyes on Ian.
Alicia did so. She really was thirsty.
Cairnyllan looked up, smiled, and said, “I beg your pardon. I offered to fetch you a glass of your own.”
Marianne seemed unable to quite take this in. But the change did not appear to displease her. She was still watching her brother when a movement caught her eye. “Oh, here comes that ridiculous Albert again. You must help me hide from him.” She linked arms with each of them and moved off. “Look, there’s an anteroom behind that curtain. Come on.”
She pulled them away before either could protest, and in another moment they were through the curtain and inside a small chamber furnished with two sofas. Marianne breathed a sigh of relief, bending to peer through a crack in the drapery and say, “He is going.”
Alicia and Ian, however, had noticed that they were not the only tenants of the room. A couple was half reclining on one of the sofas, deeply occupied with each other. Indeed, they were locked in a passionate embrace and oblivious to any intrusion.
Automatically, Alicia and Cairnyllan each grasped one of Marianne’s elbows. “I think we should go back,” said Alicia.
“Come along, Marianne,” commanded her brother simultaneously.
Turning to look at them, Marianne glimpsed the couple. “Oh!” She flushed a bit and giggled, then her blue eyes grew wide. “Mama!”
Thirteen
This exclamation reached the passionately embracing couple, and the three young people watched, transfixed, as Lady Cairnyllan and Sir Thomas Bentham disentangled themselves. Alicia had some trouble retaining her composure; it was so ridiculous that the MacClains should come upon their mother in such a position—like a French farce. Marianne seemed inclined to the same attitude, though she was of course more startled and embarrassed.
Cairnyllan, however, was flushed with outrage. Despite the gradual softening of his opinions in the last few weeks, he still thought of his mother as above such vagaries as human passion. Finding her in the arms of a—to him—total stranger could lea
d him to only one conclusion. “Villain!” he cried. “Blackguard! Release my mother at once.”
“Lower your voice, Ian!” retorted Lady Cairnyllan. “Do you want to bring half the ton down upon us?”
His flush deepening alarmingly, Cairnyllan pressed his lips together. Sir Thomas did not move away. On the contrary, he put an arm around Lady Cairnyllan’s waist as if to support her.
“Mama! And you have lectured me for being fast.” Marianne’s voice trembled with a combination of laughter and uncertainty. It really was very odd to see her mother being embraced by a stranger. She had never seen even her own father do so.
“Thomas and I have reached an understanding,” answered Lady Cairnyllan. “I would have…”
“You sanction the attentions of this…” Cairnyllan appeared unable to find a label emphatic enough. “Do you actually tell me you willingly engaged in this libertine display? There is a ballroom full of people just beyond that curtain, Mother. Someone might have come in at any moment. Indeed, someone did come in! You have exhibited your lack of moral principles to Lady Alicia as well as your own children!” His irritation seemed to be increasing rather than diminishing. “Must you stand in that man’s embrace?” he finished.
Lady Cairnyllan looked a little daunted, and Alicia felt sorry for her. She had been unwise, perhaps, in giving way to her feelings in such a public place, but she did not deserve this tirade.
Sir Thomas apparently agreed. “Take a damper, young man,” he said, in a deep, melodious voice. “How dare you speak to your mother so?”
“I speak as she deserves, if she chooses to behave like a wanton. And as for you, sir…”
Hearing dangerous overtones in his voice, and also feeling his unfairness, all three women broke into speech at once.
“Ian, stop being a beast,” said Marianne.
“I think, Lord Cairnyllan, that you are making too much of this scene,” suggested Alicia.
“Oh, Ian, do be reasonable,” begged Lady Cairnyllan.
They succeeded only in drowning one another out, and Cairnyllan and Sir Thomas continued to glare.
“As for me,” said Sir Thomas then, “I have done nothing wrong. I merely strove to engage the affections of the woman I have loved since I was a stripling. And I have been fortunate enough to receive a second chance, after I behaved like an absolute fool thirty years ago.” He smiled down at Lady Cairnyllan, who responded timidly. “I ask no more of life.”
Alicia found this very affecting. “Don’t you see, Lord Cairnyllan, that this is the most romantic and natural—”
“I don’t care for your opinion,” he snapped. He was feeling confused, and in the turmoil of his mind he once again relegated Alicia to the ranks of corrupt Londoners. Though some part of him murmured that he was acting like an idiot, the convictions of years overrode it. His mother and sister were to be protected from the anguish and abuse he had witnessed from his earliest youth. He had observed only one man in the character of husband and lover—his father—and he had never trusted the role since. A flood of old memories dispersed the last of his common sense. “If you do not take your hands off my mother, sir,” he said between clenched teeth, “I shall make you.”
Lady Cairnyllan grasped Sir Thomas’s hand where it lay on her waist. “Ian!” Sir Thomas smiled confidently.
Cairnyllan surged forward, Marianne hanging on his coattails to stop him. He grabbed Sir Thomas’s upper arm and flung him away, then hit him across the face with the back of his hand.
“Ian!” shrieked both of the MacClain women, forgetting the crowd outside. Alicia put a hand to her mouth and tried to think what to do.
Sir Thomas stood very still, his lips set in hard lines, his gray eyes icy. “You badly need a lesson in manners, you young whelp.”
“And you intend to give it me?” replied Cairnyllan contemptuously.
“I do. My seconds will…”
“Thomas!” pleaded Lady Cairnyllan. Marianne began hitting her brother’s broad back with her fist.
Sir Thomas paused, and considered. His expression remained bleak, but finally he shook his head. “You are right, Mary. I won’t challenge him. But it is only for your sake.” Lady Cairnyllan threw herself on his chest.
“Then I challenge you!” cried Cairnyllan. “Coward as well as blackguard.”
Sir Thomas paled with the effort of remaining silent, but he did so.
“For God’s sake, be quiet,” said Alicia. It was the third time she had offered this advice, but the previous two attempts had been drowned out by the dispute. It was, however, too late. Even as she spoke, three young men poked their heads through the draperies, excited and curious.
“Did I hear a challenge?” asked one.
“It was,” insisted another. “Plain as anything. Who’s to fight?” He looked from Cairnyllan to Sir Thomas eagerly.
The intrusion of strangers subdued even Cairnyllan, however, and he replied simply, “Get out of here. This is a private matter.” His voice was savage.
The newcomers blinked, then retreated, but Alicia knew that they would waste no time in spreading the story throughout the ton, with whatever wild embellishments occurred to them. “Oh, why would you not be quiet,” she moaned.
“It was Ian who made all the noise,” accused Marianne. “You are always such an idiot, Ian.”
“And completely beyond the line,” added Lady Cairnyllan. “You had no right to speak so, to me or Sir Thomas. I insist you apologize at once.”
“Really, you are making a great fuss over nothing,” said Alicia.
“Not nothing,” claimed Sir Thomas, “but certainly an unwarranted fuss.”
Attacked thus from all sides, and conscious that he had brought down the gossips on his own family, a thing he had always cautioned them against, Ian could not be rational. “My seconds will call on you,” he told Sir Thomas. And before any of them could object, he strode from the room.
Marianne made an exasperated noise. “He is the most pig-headed, conceited, unbearable…”
Lady Cairnyllan gazed worriedly up at Sir Thomas. “You will refuse to meet him, of course?”
He frowned. “I…it is a deuced tangle. They will say I was afraid of a younger man.”
“Who never should have challenged you in the first place,” interrupted Alicia, who was growing angry. “He had no cause whatever, and so I shall tell everyone. Moreover, I shall tell him!” She followed Cairnyllan from the room.
“Oh dear,” murmured Lady Cairnyllan.
“Never mind.” Sir Thomas patted her hand. “I will refuse him. It was galling for a moment, but I can face down worse than that for you.”
The lovers exchanged a tender glance. Marianne sighed.
“Your mother and I are going to be married, you know,” added Sir Thomas, eyeing her sternly. He was not in a mood to tolerate opposition from any MacClain.
“I thought perhaps you were,” replied Marianne. “I wish you very happy.” Stepping forward, she embraced her mother. “I was only a little startled at first.”
“Well, of course we meant to tell you in a suitable setting,” said Lady Cairnyllan, slightly flustered. “It was just tonight that we settled things between us.”
“Ah.” Marianne grinned. “That was the reason for the way we found you, I suppose?”
Her mother flushed and looked down, but Sir Thomas smiled. “I think we shall get on very well, at any rate.” He held out a hand.
Marianne shook it. “I’m sure we shall.”
Alicia caught up with Cairnyllan in the front hall where he was waiting impatiently for his hat and cloak. In the short time since he had left the others he had partly regained his composure, but her appearance destroyed it once more. Her presence at the preceding scene had made it a great deal worse for him. He told himself that this was because she was an outsider, and a fixture of London
society who might spread the tale. What he did not fully admit even internally was that he felt exposed and embarrassed. How often had he criticized her for behavior much less shocking than that his own mother had exhibited. The destruction of his most cherished prejudices had been witnessed by a victim of them, and a woman whose good opinion he was coming to value above all others, though he had not yet consciously acknowledged the change. It was intolerable. Cairnyllan felt like smashing things. He wished bitterly for his home and the wide empty moors. If he could gallop alone for the rest of the night, a half moon lending just enough light to see the dirt track, his mount’s breath frosty in the predawn chill…but he was trapped in London instead. Turning his back on Alicia, he strode impatiently after the footman who had gone to fetch his things.
“Lord Cairnyllan!” said Alicia, whose annoyance was not lessened by this rudeness.
“What is it?”
“I wish to speak to you.”
“I’m sorry. I am just leaving. If that numbskull of a servant will only bring my hat.”
“Well, if he does not, you can challenge him.” Alicia’s voice dripped sarcasm. She walked around to face him. “It would be nearly as sensible as your recent actions.”
“That is none of your affair.”
Alicia’s blue eyes flamed. The fact that he was right merely increased her anger. She had a right to intervene, she told herself, because of her liking for Marianne and Lady Cairnyllan. Their obstinate relative must be set right so that they did not have to endure such outbursts. That she herself had been the victim of several, and that they had hurt her, Alicia did not consider. “What exactly do you plan to do?” she asked, ignoring his objection.
The footman returned, and Cairnyllan silently put on his things. When he strode to the door without speaking, Alicia followed.
“What do you think you are doing?” asked the earl.
“I am coming with you. I do not mean to end this conversation until you understand your folly.”