Lady Barbara's Dilemma

by Marjorie Farrell

  He tried to sound matter-of-fact, and seemed to have succeeded, for David answered as though it were just normal curiosity that prompted the question.

  “She spent the winter in Sussex, of course, Wardour was quite the gentleman about the whole thing, so that most of the gossip had died down before the holidays. I expect she will be in town within the week. She is, of course, invited to the wedding.” David opened his mouth as though he were going to continue and then closed it again.

  “You were about to say something?”

  “Well, the thought had occurred to me…umm… I was just going to wonder aloud about Barbara’s reaction to your real identity. I was also thinking that the two of you would make a natural couple. Forgive me, but my approaching nuptials have turned me into a matchmaker.”

  “I am sure the lady has many admirers.”

  “Oh, yes, but Wardour was the only one she had ever encouraged.”

  “Do you think she is still wearing the willow?”

  David looked thoughtful. “I might be wildly off the mark, but when I conveyed my sympathy to Barbara in the fall, she seemed to be suffering more from a general disappointment than a particular heartache. She told me that they had mutually agreed that they would not suit.”

  “I am relieved to hear that, for I fully intend to woo her this spring.”

  “So I am not being foolishly romantic,” David said with a wide smile.

  “Och, Davie, we may both be foolish. Who knows how the lady will react to me? For all I know, she has forgotten Alec Gower and I will have to start all over again.”

  Chapter 41

  Madame Judith’s prediction might have gotten Barbara through the winter at Ashurst, but the approach of the Season brought her back to the hard facts of her spinsterhood. She would be returning for her seventh Season and, she was determined, her last. After this Spring, she would retire gracefully, start wearing a cap, and resign herself to her fate. The only reason she had even agreed to accompany Robin and Diana to London was for appearances’ sake. If she stayed at Ashurst, the gossips would be sure to notice and comment again on her broken engagement. She would have to hide her boredom and loneliness under a carefree facade to earn the retirement from society that she desired. She could only hope that Wardour had decided to stay at Arundel this spring. She did not think she had the courage to face him again and pretend to be good friends.

  It was a surprise, therefore, to hear almost immediately after they arrived in London that not only was Wardour in Kent, but newly married to the youngest daughter of his neighbor, the Viscount Fulcomb. Barbara remembered her as a very pretty girl who had shyly complimented Barbara on her music. “But she is barely eighteen,” she protested, when Robin gently broke the news.

  “Are you terribly upset?” he asked.

  “If you mean, do I have any regrets, Robin, no, not at all. But I must confess to more than a little wounded vanity. After all, his new wife is almost a decade younger than I! I feel like Methuselah. I am relieved, however, to hear that he recovered so quickly,” continued Barbara tartly. “And I suspect his new bride will be much more suitable and pliant than I. I wish him happy, I truly do.”

  “And I wish you the same happiness, Barbara. Perhaps this Season…”

  “Judith has great hopes for this spring,” Barbara replied with patently false gaiety. “Perhaps she is right and I’ll see some old acquaintance with new eyes. Stranger things have happened.”

  * * * *

  But old acquaintances looked the same, thought Barbara a few days into the Season, as she surveyed the crush at the Rosses’ ball. Her dance card was almost full, but as she read it over she realized that she had danced with these same men year after year. She knew whose feet would tread on her slippers, whose hand would squeeze her waist during the waltz, and who would compliment her, yet again, on the way her gown matched her eyes. Thank God David was down for a waltz, she thought.

  When, a few minutes later, she heard David announced, along with Lord Alexander MacLeod, she looked around eagerly for his tall, dark-haired figure. When she saw him, she smiled naturally for the first time that night and began to make her way through the crowd. As she got closer, however, her smile disappeared, for standing with his back toward her was a tall, auburn-haired stranger, who reminded her so strongly of Alec Gower that her knees felt weak. Oh, why did someone with the same color hair, the same broad shoulders, have to be here tonight? She thought she had cured herself of her foolishness, but apparently not, if merely the sight of dark-red hair undid her. Had David not seen her and smiled at her, she would have broken and run.

  She focused on David, refusing to glance to her right. She had to turn at last, as David introduced her to Lord Alexander MacLeod, and found herself looking into the bright blue eyes of Alec Gower. What had David called him? She offered her hand and opened her mouth, but was struck dumb by the surprise, and stood there gaping like a fish.

  “I was as surprised as you are,” David said, coming to her rescue. “Alec told me his story, however, which explains his disguise.”

  “Indeed?” said Barbara, finally finding her voice.

  “I told David about a certain wager,” started Alec.

  “Wager? Was your deception the result of some drunken night out, then?” asked Barbara in her chilliest tones. “How interesting and how commonplace,” she added dismissively. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I see Lady Vane over there and wish to coax her into talking about her new grandchild.” Barbara was gone before Alec or David could say a word.

  “Well, hardly what I’d call an auspicious beginning to my wooing, Davie,” said Alec.

  “I think I would have to agree with you,” said David, smiling despite himself. “But it was a shock to be introduced to you like that, with no warning.”

  “Aye, but there was no better way to do it. It is done now, for better or worse. For worse, it would seem,” admitted Alec with a wry grin.

  “Now, don’t give up hope. I will make sure you have some time with her tonight.”

  * * * *

  Talking to Nora about her new granddaughter was not difficult, for she was ecstatic about little Margaret Lavinia. By the time her husband, accompanied by David, joined them, Barbara had recovered from her shock and let David confirm his two dances before she was swept off by her next partner.

  When the time came for David to claim his waltz, he was nowhere to be seen, and Barbara was about to sit down when Alec Gower—no, Lord Alexander—appeared before her.

  “Sir David is unavoidably detained, and begged me to take his place,” Alec announced.

  “David, I suspect, has hidden in some corner and sent you over instead, Mr. Gower. I mean Lord Alexander.”

  Alec’s eyes twinkled down at her. “You’re a canny lassie, but will ye no dance wi’ me all the same? Unless you are too tired,” he added, in his best English. “In that case, perhaps we could find a private corner for conversation.”

  “No, I am not quite at my last prayers, my lord,” replied Barbara. Surely dancing would be easier than a private chat, but she shivered uncontrollably when Alec put his arm around her.

  “You are cold, Lady Barbara?” he asked, with such a concern in his voice that she almost lost her composure.

  “Just a goose walking over my grave,” she said lightly, trying to ignore the warmth of his arm around her waist and the feeling of her hand in his.

  Alec had no desire to ruin the dance with explanations, so he kept silent. Barbara would have expected their silence to be strained and uncomfortable, but the longer they danced, the more relaxed she felt. They danced as they had played, effortlessly, and by the time the music stopped, she was only sorry that their closeness must end.

  “I would like to talk to you, Lady Barbara,” said Alec seriously. “I believe I owe you an explanation. May we go out on the balcony for some privacy?”

  Barbara was too bewitched to refuse, and they slipped out through the French doors and faced one another, breathless from
their waltz and the realization that the next few minutes could determine the course of their acquaintance.

  “I am not given to drunken wagers, Lady Barbara, and I want you to know that,” Alec began. “There were unique circumstances, as I think you will agree.” And he explained the whole. “So you see, it was absolutely necessary that I not reveal myself to anyone, even when I wished to.”

  “And you assure me that ‘Alec Gower’ was the disguise, and not ‘Lord Alexander,’ ” she said, only half teasing.

  “Oh, aye. My parents and my grandfather are just arrived and I know that you will be meeting them at some party or other. Will that convince you?”

  “Oh, I am convinced, my lord. In fact, I always wondered about Mr. Gower and how he could play Mozart as well as he could a reel. I suspected you were from some good family, although not of the nobility, I admit. And so you will be able to make your dream come true,” she added wistfully. “It is easier for a man, even if he is the grandson of an earl.”

  “Up to a point. I will be free to study and compose. Perhaps get away with a public performance occasionally. But most of my playing will be for friends and family, as yours is. My father and grandfather are in good health and have long lives ahead of them, as does my brother, I hope. But one never knows, which is why I was so determined to have this time now.”

  “I wish you well, my lord,” said Barbara.

  “I was hoping…that is…would it be possible for us to play together again? If you have forgiven me for my deception.”

  “There is little to forgive, my lord. After all, your masquerade harmed no one. Perhaps we could look forward to a duet again.”

  “I have a sonata of my own composition, for pianoforte and violin. I would love to practice it with you.” Alec did not add that he had spent the winter working on this piece with Barbara in mind.

  “I would be free on Thursday,” Barbara replied, shocking herself by her own boldness, but not wanting to let him go before they had set a date.

  “Thursday it will be, then,” agreed Alec.

  Chapter 42

  The next few days went by very slowly, and Barbara found herself unable to concentrate on anything for longer than ten minutes. She would sit down to her music, begin her warm-up scales, play the first three measures, and then have to get up and move. Only a visit from David and Deborah to discuss their wedding plans was able to keep her attention focused for any length of time.

  Deborah had insisted on being married from her home, a decision that had displeased the Treves family, which had wanted to make the wedding more of a social occasion than a religious ceremony.

  “Deborah has been quite stubborn about this,” said David.

  “It is not stubbornness, David,” Deborah started to protest.

  “You can see that my fiancée’s temper is as fiery as her hair,” announced David in a loud aside to Barbara.

  “It is quite untrue,” protested Deborah, immediately incensed, “that redheaded people have a quicker temper than others.”

  “Yes, David,” added Barbara, with a twinkle in her eye, “I am surprised at you for repeating that old saw when Miss Cohen is clearly the meekest of women.”

  Deborah blushed and then joined the others in their laughter.

  “Perhaps there is a grain of truth in it after all,” she admitted. “But I do not think it stubbornness to wish to be married from my own home. It will be hard enough to leave my father behind as it is.”

  David took her hand in his. “I promise you, you will be leaving no one behind, my dear. We will only be in another part of London, and you know I have the greatest liking for your father.”

  “I know, David,” she replied. “I just find it difficult,” she confessed to Barbara, “to go from poverty to riches so suddenly. I do not want to leave anything of myself behind. Nor am I ashamed of who I am. Which is why we will be married in the East End in a traditional wedding.”

  “And I am honored to be invited,” said Barbara.

  “We are very lucky to have family and good friends to be with us. Sarah will be the ring bearer.”

  “If she doesn’t pocket it, my dear!”

  “And Lord Alexander is to play for us.”

  “Lord Alexander will be there?” asked Barbara.

  “We have become fast friends,” David told her. “And it will be wonderful to have his music at our wedding.”

  “Well, I am looking forward to this. I think it will be the high point in a long, dull Season.”

  * * * *

  After they left, Barbara thought about how easily she might have given in to Wardour, and despite her loneliness, how happy she was to be free. Free to choose her own friends, free to attend their wedding. Free to dream of a certain Scotsman…

  How right David and Deborah were together. Deborah’s fieriness was just what David needed, thought Barbara. Not only did her looks contrast wonderfully with his dark and melancholy handsomeness, but her strong sense of who she was had helped David out of ambivalence. While Barbara could well understand the desire to be fully accepted in society, she did not think that denying one’s identity would make for ultimate happiness. She was glad that David had found Deborah and not gone along with his family’s plans to have him marry into the nobility. Deborah was just the wife for him, and ultimately David would be happier fighting for acceptance politically than marrying his way in.

  * * * *

  When Thursday arrived at last and Lord Alexander MacLeod was announced, Barbara had to take several deep breaths to calm herself before she entered the morning room.

  Alec stood up immediately as she entered, and she took in every inch of him before she came forward. He was dressed in a forest-green coat and fawn pantaloons, and looked every inch the fashionable gentleman, yet Barbara found she missed his kilt. She banished her memory of his bare legs immediately, however, and welcoming him, asked if he wished some refreshment before they practiced.

  “No, thank you, Lady Barbara,” he answered rather stiffly. “I have less time this morning than I thought, so perhaps we should just begin.”

  Barbara felt a sharp stab of disappointment and cursed herself for her foolishness. The man was only here for music, she told herself. Heaven knows, he would not expect a lady to have been attracted to a busker. She led Alec to the music room and, seating herself immediately, waited for him to unpack his case.

  “Here is the music, Lady Barbara,” he said as he placed it in front of her. “Perhaps we could start with the second movement, since that is the most intricate.”

  “Of course. But you must be patient with me, my lord, for you know your own music well, and I am new to it.”

  The second movement was an allegro, and as they played it the first time, Barbara was concentrating so much on her reading that she could not fully enjoy it. But as they went through it again, she began to feel the music. Alec had managed to capture the spirit of a Scottish reel within a solidly classical form. The sonata was a sonata, but it was no clichéd imitation of a master. Instead, he had used the form to express a native joie de vivre, and Barbara felt again that pure joy welling up in her as she played. And yet, when they finished and she turned to face Alec, there were unshed tears in her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “All right? Oh, these.” She smiled, brushing her hand across her eyes. “Tears of joy, I think,” she added tremulously. “You have written a wonderful allegro, my lord. I could almost hear Alec Gower’s fiddle.”

  “You liked it?” he asked anxiously, forgetting his concern for her in his artist’s insecurity.

  “Like is a weak word for what I feel. You have revitalized the form, brought something new and original to it.”

  “Thank you, Lady Barbara, for recognizing what I attempted to do.”

  “You succeeded, my lord, I assure you.”

  “What do you think of this measure?” he asked, leaning forward to turn back a page. His hand brushed her cheek and she sat very still, w
illing him to stay there, close to her, his breath softly stirring her hair, as he sought his place. Did he linger on purpose? she wondered. Did he feel their closeness or was he only thinking of his music?

  “Here. Can we play this again at a slower tempo?”

  All business. “Of course, my lord.” Why had she thought that if she was attracted to him, he must needs be to her?

  They played the piece through once more, but this time Barbara was on guard against her emotions. She still felt delight, but did not let it carry her away. And so she was able to offer her hand and bid Alec good-bye quite calmly.

  “Will I be seeing you at Heseltines’s?”

  “Yes, Robin and Diana and I have been invited.”

  “Until then,” said Alec, and waved his good-bye.

  “Till then,” repeated Barbara, unsure of whether she was looking forward to or dreading their next meeting.

  Chapter 43

  The Stanleys arrived early to the Heseltines’s party, and Barbara saw no sign of Alec. She tried to appear interested in the conversation around her and willed herself not to turn her head each time the next guest was announced. She felt very foolish, for there had been nothing, after all, to indicate more than a friendly interest on Alec’s part. He obviously saw her as a musical partner and nothing else.

  When he was at last announced, she allowed herself to look across to the receiving line. He was accompanied by a tall woman with gray-streaked auburn hair who could only be his mother and two slender gentlemen, one with an abundance of silver hair. Alec towered over them, or so it seemed to her from that distance.

  Before she could tell whether he had seen her and whether he intended to introduce her to his family, she was claimed for a country dance.

  * * * *

  “Is the Lady Barbara Stanley here, Alec?” inquired the duke, who was gazing imperiously around.

  Alec had seen Barbara immediately and had been about to approach her when she moved onto the dance floor.