The horses circled the ring and slid to a dramatic halt. Harry expelled a long sigh of pure contentment and Louisa turned to Atherton with a smile. “Harry will never forget this day. You have been so good to us -all of us.” Sudden tears came into her eyes and she had to blink rapidly to keep them back.
The Viscount’s hand closed over hers comfortingly. “I collect I was very right to bring you here,” said he. “But you need not be so piteously grateful.” His eyes twinkled dangerously. “If you persist in regarding me with so much gratitude shining in those wide gray eyes of yours I shall begin to think that I have really become a hero rather than an ordinary Corinthian who has escaped his ennui by taking some children to the circus.”
Louisa managed a small smile. She must stop this, she told herself firmly. She was behaving like a schoolroom miss. It simply would not do to go on in this fashion. The best way, perhaps, would be to rally him as he had her. “You had best be careful, milord,” said she with a mischievous smile. “I collect you are in danger of being puffed up.”
Atherton’s eyes glittered. “I trust that you will set me down, if I should become too puffed up. Set me down properly, wouldn’t you?”
Fortunately for Louisa she was not called upon to reply to this. For their performance finished, the military horses thundered from the ring with a mighty pounding of hooves, leaving only the ringmaster behind.
Then a single white horse entered the equestrian circle. On its back, resplendent in pink tights and spangled gauze, was perched a small rider.
“Louisa, oh look!” It was Betsy’s turn to exclaim in joyous wonder as the solitary figure rose gracefully to her feet - on the horse’s back.
Harry appeared to have been rendered absolutely dumb by the events before him, but from time to time soft sighs and exclamations issued from the enchanted Betsy’s lips.
Louisa found her own eyes fastened on the little figure. As the ringmaster indicated with his whip that the horse increase its pace, Louisa held her breath. It seemed incredible that the girl could keep her feet as the horse went faster and faster. And then, Louisa caught her breath sharply as one foot left the surface of the horse’s back and the girl stood balanced on one slender leg.
The girl’s foot seemed to slip and Louisa caught her breath with a gasp that caused Atherton to turn to her curiously. “She is all right,” said he softly. “That is part of her routine.”
And so it seemed for now the slender figure in pink was astride the horse and then she was lying backwards, her head near his tail, her pink legs in the air.
This was too much for Louisa. Her eyes shut of their own accord. “Come now,” said Atherton. “The girl will not be injured. This is her life. Open your eyes and look.”
Obediently Louisa did as she was told and saw the vision in pink comfortably astride again, her horse moving out of the circle.
Through the rest of the show Louisa sat just as entranced as the children. The horses seemed as well-trained as people; with ease and style they moved through their paces. Whether they were the steps of a country dance or the galloping and falling of a charging brigade in mock death, they performed most admirably, Louisa thought, their necks arching proudly as though they were aware of their good performance.
The whole afternoon was one of utter enchantment. The monkeys, the trained dogs, and the little scenes on the stage, all were greeted by cries of admiration.
Some time later, when the four of them exited from the building, Louisa was as flushed and starry-eyed as the children. “Oh, your lordship,” said Harry in tones of awing adoration. “This has been the best day of my whole life.”
“Mine, too,” echoed Betsy. “I’ll never forget it as long as I live. Never.”
Louisa swallowed over a sudden lump in her throat and was glad for the arrival of the carriage. For she was conscious that her pleasure, too, must be showing on her face. And she did not want Atherton to discover that for her, too, this was perhaps the happiest day of her life.
The children settled on the squabs across from Atherton and Louisa, their eyes still shining with enchantment.
“Oh, Louisa,” sighed Betsy dreamily. “She was just beautiful. Like an angel balancing there on that horse. Better than a heroine out of one of Lady Incognita’s books.”
“That was all right,” said Harry. “But the best thing was when they charged like in a war, and the horses fell down, like they were dead. Oh, sir, it was just bang-up, it was.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” said his lord-ship. “And I must offer you my thanks.”
“What for?” asked both the children in surprise.
His lordship’s face remained quite serious. “Why, for accompanying me to Astley’s.”
“Oh,” said Betsy. “You’re teasing us.”
“Indeed, I am not,” said Atherton seriously. “Your presence brought back to me my first attendance at Astley’s. I have to admit, however, that I found today’s excursion even more enjoyable than my first.”
Again that sadness that Louisa had seen once before crossed his lordship’s features. He saw her eyes upon him and shrugged nonchalantly. “My tutor was not a particularly fun-loving person,” he observed with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “And I had no friends as a boy.”
His eyes met Louisa’s and he smiled cynically. “That was one of the privileges that wealth earned me - a boyhood spent in the company of tutors.”
Louisa, remembering her rather harsh comments about wealth, found herself coloring up but did not reply.
Atherton shook his dark head. “Enough of this,” said he. “I collect your childhood was a lonely one, too.”
“I suppose it was,” agreed Louisa. “It was very secluded, but I had Mama and Winky, and the little ones, so I didn’t notice it.”
The Viscount’s hand again closed over hers. “At any rate, I am pleased to have been the first to take you all to the circus.”
Louisa, very much aware of his fingers on hers, managed to smile. “Thank you for that.”
“Yes! That’s what I shall do,” announced Betsy suddenly. “I have decided.”
“What have you decided?” asked Louisa with a startled smile.
“I have decided to be a bareback rider at Astley’s - like the beautiful lady. And everyone will look at me and say how lovely I am. Yes, that’s what I shall do.”
While Louisa stared in dumbfounded silence, Harry spoke. “I would rather be a rope dancer, like I heard Drimble telling cook about. He saw him at Bartholomew Fair. You get up and walk across this rope. And it’s very dangerous, of course, because the rope is up high.”
“What I want to do is dangerous, too,” Betsy insisted.
Louisa turned dismayed eyes to his lordship.
“That sounds like an admirable idea,” said he, his fingers tightening on hers, warning her to silence. “I’m sure Betsy would look famous up there on a horse. It would only take her about ten years of practice every single day to get that good. But that’s not much time, not when it’s what she wants. And if she falls, as they always do when they’re learning, well, the sawdust is soft. I’m sure she won’t get hurt.
“And Harry will make an admirable rope dancer, with yellow tights and a parasol like a lady. Of course some people may want to laugh at a boy in such clothes, but I’m sure Harry won’t mind. Not for something that important.”
There was silence as the carriage moved along through London’s crowded streets. Louisa found she was holding her breath as though she dared not say anything. And then Betsy spoke.
“The lady was lovely,” she said. “But, well, the more I think about it, the more I realize that perhaps I should not do so well. I am not particularly fond of horses either. I suppose I had better just come out as we planned and look for my hero.”
Louisa was so relieved at this that she didn’t even wince at the mention of heroes.
And then Harry was heard from. “Para-sols, sir? Are you sure?”
“Quite sure, my boy,�
�� said his lordship without a hint of amusement in his deep voice.
“... I do not think I should do so well at rope dancing either,” admitted Harry. “After all,” his voice rose eagerly as though he had lighted on a sudden inspiration. “There will be my duties as Baron to be considered.”
“Quite true, Harry,” said his lordship, still keeping all amusement out of his voice. “A gentleman must regard his duties and responsibilities if he is to be worthy of the name. I think you have made a wise choice. As Baron Penhope you will want to care for your sisters.”
“Of course,” said young Harry with a pomposity that caused Louisa to choke suddenly and reach for her handkerchief.
Atherton’s eyes met hers with great warmth and she found herself smiling at him. How extremely well he could handle the children. If only ... But she pushed that thought resolutely from her mind. Certainly the children were benefiting from his lordship’s friendship now, no matter how short its duration. And that was all there was to it -nothing more.
As Harry and Betsy, reconciled to the loss of their brilliant careers, chattered happily on about the various feats of horsemanship that they had witnessed, Louisa leaned back against the squabs with a sigh of contentment. At the moment at least life was going rather well.
Mr. Grimstead had been pleased with Love in the Ruins. Even the blond, blue-eyed hero had earned his approval. And now that she was getting one hundred pounds a book, her financial worries were eased.
Suddenly she became aware that Atherton was gazing at her. “You look very relaxed and happy,” he said softly.
Louisa smiled. “That is because I am,” she replied.
The Viscount’s mouth curved into an answering smile. “I am glad. You often look worried and harassed.”
In her present mood of euphoria Louisa spoke without thinking. “Sometimes I feel that way.”
His hand covered hers at once. “Please remember that I am your friend. Come to me if you need assistance - of any kind.”
With his hand still on hers and his dark eyes so close, Louisa found it difficult to breathe. What if he saw in her eyes some hint of her regard for him? Regretfully she withdrew her fingers from his. “I thank you, milord,” she said somewhat stiffly. “But I assure you that I can man-age quite well. You needn’t concern yourself with my problems.”
“Perhaps I needn’t,” said his lordship firmly. “But I shall. I warn you, I am not easily set down.”
Louisa’s mood of contentment vanish-ed. “But I do not wish for any more help - either in the financial or in the matrimonial area.” She was conscious that she had colored up and she was angry about it.
“I am aware of your feelings in the matter,” said Atherton formally. But she was quick to notice that he did not say he would do anything about those feelings.
“I do not want you to find me a husband,” hissed Louisa, her voice rising more than she meant it to.
“How silly,” Betsy piped up, drawn into the conversation by the tone of Louisa’s voice. “Husbands are not found, Louisa. They appear. Like heroes, they are just there when you need them.” Betsy’s pert freckled nose screwed itself up. “At least, they are supposed to be there.”
His lordship chuckled, but Louisa did not find the discussion amusing. “Perhaps that is why I do not believe in heroes,” she said sharply. “For my experience has shown me that they are not there when needed.”
Betsy opened her mouth as though to retort to this calumny on herokind but, apparently thinking better of it, shut it again without saying anything.
“I think,” said his lordship, with that glint in his eyes, “that you do not look in the proper places.”
Before Louisa could reply to this statement, or even consider exactly what he might mean by it, the carriage had drawn up before the house in Arlington Street and Atherton was helping her descend.
As the children turned to race for the door, eager to tell Winky about their wonderful trip, Atherton spoke. “Wait before you go scurrying off. Today’s excursion was an extremely pleasant one for me. I wonder if you might be kind enough to accompany me to Vauxhall Gardens some evening soon. I should like to see it through young eyes.”
Betsy and Harry looked at each other and grinned. Then Betsy smiled. “That’s most kind of you, sir. Thank you. We’d all be pleased to go with you, wouldn’t we, Louisa?”
“Well, it is most kind of you,” Louisa faltered. She wanted to make these magic moments continue and she was very much aware of the joyous beating of her heart at the thought that she would see the Viscount at least once more. But common sense made her protest, “Milord...”
“Louisa, my dear,” said Atherton in a tone so reminiscent of Aunt Julia’s that both the children broke into giggles, “you are impeding the progress of science.”
“I?” said Louisa in surprise, relieved to be able to respond lightheartedly. “How can that be?”
“Here am I, well on my way to discovering a new cure for ennui. And you would deprive me of my glory and the world of my great discovery.”
Louisa ceased fighting. His lordship was a strong-willed man and how could she expect to hold out against him when two pairs of childish eyes were also regarding her with pleading and when she herself could think of nothing she would rather do than visit Vauxhall Gardens in the company of Viscount Atherton?
“Very well,” she replied. “I will not stand in the way of progress and science.”
“Capital,” said his lordship with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about next week Monday?”
Louisa considered. “That should be fine. And thank you again.”
“Yes, thanks,” cried the children as they hurried off to pour this double portion of good news into Winky’s eager ears.
Louisa looked to his lordship. “I do not see how we can cure your ennui,” said she with a smile. “And I really must say again what I have said before. Whatever your father’s debt to the Colonel or your sister’s childhood regard for Mama, you have both done far more than the circumstances require.”
Atherton’s dark eyes regarded her closely. “I take my responsibilities rather seriously,” he said gravely. “But you must not impute to me virtues that I do not possess. I am not a naive philanthropist. I have reasons for whatever I do. Sound, sensible reasons, though not perhaps easily observable ones. I shall see you on Monday next.”
And with that the Viscount clapped his beaver over his dark locks, vaulted easily into the vacant seat beside the driver, took up the ribbons, and tooled off.
Louisa, unaware of the dreamy quality of her smile, watched until he was out of sight before she turned and with a puzzled frown made her way through the door that Drimble stood patiently holding.
What had he meant by that remark about his reasons for doing things? Sane, sensible reasons, he had said. Not easily observable. Could he still be seeking for Lady Incognita’s identity, Louisa wondered as she moved slowly up the stairs to her sitting room. Oh, if he were and if he discovered it!
The thought left her quaking, but then anger came to the surface. Who did he think he was, the high and mighty Lord Atherton? Just because he was a viscount, just because he had a certain undeniable charm, that didn’t mean he could bully people around. And besides, said that sane sensible part of herself, finally coming to the fore, she was making much too much of his lordship’s remarks. He was probably just referring to his attempt to defeat ennui. That was sane and sensible, she told herself and, thus reassured, she took her place before the writing desk, picked up a fresh pen, and gave herself up to the adventures of Percival and Corrine.
Chapter Eleven
As the days passed, Louisa found life growing more and more complicated. Lady Palmerton was an almost daily visitor. Louisa, always an early riser, had to get up earlier still in order to finish her daily quota of pages before the arrival of Atherton’s sister.
Many mornings she found early rising difficult. For the sweet sound sleep of her childhood and youth seemed t
o have vanished forever. Now her nights were a troubled mélange of the adventures of Percival and Corrine and haunting memories of her times with Atherton.
Still, she forced herself to rise and produce the required number of pages. For inexorably as the sun climbed to its noonday height and then began its downward descent, Lady Palmerton would arrive and calling hours would begin.
That estimable lady’s head was full of plans for Louisa’s future - so full, in fact, that Louisa’s words and desires on that score found no path of access there. For the first time, thought Louisa, she realized what feather-headed really meant.
But Lady Palmerton was a kind-hearted soul. Mama’s old friend, and, as Louisa admitted to herself in her stronger moments, most importantly she was Atherton’s sister.
Had Louisa been able to fly so completely in the face of convention as to insult Lady Constance and send her packing, the latter thought would undoubtedly have deterred her.
And so there she was - her whole life turned upside down, nothing the same. Reality had lost its clear sharp outlines and become blurred around the edges. The absolutes that she had centered her life on - particularly the nonexistence of heroes - had been tumbled from their lofty perches. And now anything seemed possible - or almost anything.
In spite of her reluctance to do so, Louisa was forced to accept Atherton’s statement about Harvey and Reardon, and their matrimonial intentions. For several times a week the little exquisite and the big pomposity, as Louisa could not refrain from styling them to herself, showed up to call. Inevitably they arrived together, Reardon shooting his cuffs and Harvey clearing his throat before launching into another disquisition on phrenology.
At first Louisa had seriously considered leaving instructions with Drimble that she was not at home to gentlemen callers. But that, of course, would include the Viscount and so was impractical. Louisa was aware that she could give Drimble orders that would except his lordship, but the thought of facing the old retainer with an order that showed so much partiality caused her to blush as rosily as any heroine.
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