In the deep recesses of his heart, he was glad that he might have the lovely Allie, haunter of his dreams, to keep him company and warm his bed. But the clear, concise scholar that lived in his mind was aghast at the thought of trying to keep up with his learning, follow through with his dreams and at the same time keep a wife happy.
Perhaps—and he near panicked at the idea—even take on the added responsibility of a child. Knowing the decision was out of his hands, fate resting with a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to him. Griffin at last let go of fretting and fell instead into bad humor.
Heaving a dramatic sigh that would have done justice to his aunt—the thespian-like Lady Susan—he returned to his desk and penned a carefully thought out answer. Sealing it with a sloppy blob of wax, he went for the second time that day to the post, his feet dragging along the cobbled pavement, eyes on the ground.
Chapter Twelve
~~
Allie looked a dream in her dress of midnight blue satin. The décolletage cut sedately over her rather large bosoms, a pale blue lace shawl draped negligently over her creamy white shoulders. Matching ribbons of the same pale blue threaded her dark amber curls and a choker of pearls gleamed softly at her throat.
Sir Gordon noticed his sister was beginning to take on the appearance of a very mature young woman. Gone was the carefree child he had first escorted to the city. Allie smiled and spoke politely, responding with good manners, but she moved like a marionette, her actions void of liveliness. Not to his credit, he didn't notice that as well.
It had taken Lady Alana some time to convince the girl to accompany them, for she had wished only to stay in her rooms and brood. What finally convinced her to go along was Lady Alana's admonishment that she had her brother quite worried. In fact, so distracted by her troubles he might not take care with his own burgeoning love life.
It would be a shame, she'd pointed out, if he missed out on romance because of her. Of course, there was no danger of this, but Allie was not aware of the subterfuge and had yet to be told of the events of the day.
The group arrived at Beasely's just after nine o'clock, and took their place in line behind a dozen carriages, moving forward slowly to the entrance. While they inched along the street, Allie gazed at the crowd on the walkway, barely attending the conversation taking place around her. It was only the mention of Griffins name that brought her head around sharply, her eyes shining—for just a moment—before they went dull and lifeless once more.
"Griffin should be here by tomorrow. Should I bring him 'round, or meet you at Rothburn House?" Rothburn and Sir Gordon were well into the topic of just what to do about the situation between the two youngsters.
"Don't know what's best here. Should get him in my study for a nice little chat first, I should think. It's not really your mother's responsibility, after all."
Sir Gordon smiled gently and spoke gently to his sister when he noticed her looking at them. "Allie, we have decided that Griffin needs to be appraised of his responsibilities toward you and you will be happy to know that Rothburn and I fully intend to set things right. He has been sent for; should arrive tomorrow."
"Never say so! Do not drag him here!" The girl was near hysterical and fumbling for the door handle as though to jump from the carriage. Sir Gordon clamped a firm hand on her arm to prevent her flight and she looked at him with such horror that he withdrew. His heart ached at the haunted look in her eyes. "He has made his wishes quite clear and I will never meet with him again. You cannot expect me to—"
"Allie, control yourself immediately! If Griffin has trifled with your affections your brother has a duty to admonish him."
Alana's blunt tone quelled the girl who lifted her hand from the carriage handle, slumping morosely into her seat.
Less severely, she gentled the girl, "You will not see him should you not wish to. It is merely a matter of family honor. Other young men of the ton have to be made aware that you are not to be treated lightly. Therefore, Griffin's behavior cannot be left unanswered.
"Gossip runs high, as you well know and if it should touch you, you will be ruined in society. We have a duty to you—and to our family—to keep that from happening."
"Why should anyone gossip about me—and Griffin?" Allie knew that they had been often in the gardens of various balls and parties, but she had no inkling of any tittle-tattle.
"To our knowledge there has been no gossip," Rothburn's deep voice intoned kindly. "Though, since none of us has been much in society these last few days of course we could not be aware of any.
"Nevertheless, you know as well as I that my cousin has squired you almost constantly for three weeks to every conceivable function of the ton, and has danced with you multiple times at Almack's. That in itself could give rise to conjecture among the gossipmongers. We would have Griffin stand ready to do his duty by you should the need arise."
"Duty? You think that I would wed him for duty?" Allie, her romantic heart—bruised and battered by Griffins departure—beat wildly at this moment with consternation. "I'd sooner go home, if you don't mind."
The girl near begged, "I've been thinking on it these last days, Gordon. I should like to return to the country, for I cannot be happy here."
"Allie Pendleton, you cannot just go home." Lady Alana spoke sharply once again, her patience with her niece on a short tether. "For one, it would really give the ton something to speculate upon, were you to hie away to the country. As well, there have been great expenditures made for your season and for you to just up and toss away all your chances would be beyond belief."
"Then what shall I do? You are telling me that people are probably talking about us—my reputation may be in shreds at this very moment and yet, you would have me stay here and be humiliated?"
Lady Eleanor, who had been silent until now, joined the campaign. "We know of no gossip. We are only trying to provide a way to protect you should the need arise. If your feelings for Griffin have been noticed—and they likely have—sooner or later someone is going to remark upon his absence. If you leave town as well, it would give rise to a deal of unpleasant speculation regarding your virtue. Do you not understand?"
Allie blushed profusely at Eleanor's words and looked down, nodding that she did indeed understand. Deep in her heart, Allie wished Griffin had truly taken her virtue, but another part of her knew he would never do so.
Yet a third part of her rebelled at the four adults who all looked at her with overwhelming sympathy. She tossed her head and looked back at each one in turn, saying, "Very well then, I shall stay—for awhile at least."
"We have arrived," Sir Gordon announced. "Chin up, little one. You will find that, per chance, Griffin George is not the only young man in the world." He smiled at her reassuringly. "Perhaps even tonight, you shall meet a young man who will sweep you from your doldrums and you may be wed before the week is out—"
"Gordon, do not tease the child!" Seeing a mutinous light in Allie's eyes, Lady Alana was alarmed and wanted to forestall a scene. She was unaware it was her calling Allie a child and not Sir Gordon's words that had brought on the look.
She held her next comment until she had been assisted from the carriage, then she stationed herself next to the girl. Lady Alana took Allie's hand, squeezing it affectionately. "Just be your sweet self and we shall protect you from any unwanted advances, my dear."
Alana looked a warning glance at her nephew, then continued, "And should you find someone to your liking—"
Whatever she would have said was lost in the process of negotiating the steps to the townhouse, the crush of people nearly separating them more than once. For a card party there was a deal of company—Lady Beasley being inclined to invite everyone to every function she hosted.
* * * * *
Allie found herself ensconced at a small table in the library with The Honorable Calvin Beasley as her whist partner. The young man was genuinely glad to have her company. Sadly, Allie could drum up no enthusiasm for th
e freckled and stiffly proper heir to the Beasley fortune.
She spent an hour not attending the game and they lost badly to the table, though Beasley was gracious about it. Indeed, he asked to escort her to the veranda for a breath of fresh air, to which Allie agreed listlessly.
She cared not where she went, for her mind was upon Griffin and the news she'd had of his imminent arrival.
Beasley, unaware of her befuddled state, thought the girl was actually mooning for him. This assumption on his part gave him every expectation that the lovely Allie would not be adverse to his romantic advances.
Hope rising in his rather thin breast, he escorted her into the throng on the veranda and tried in vain to find a secluded spot. The result of his search landed them in a crush against the balustrade, only half hidden by a large palm and a gooseberry bush. Though they were in plain view, Beasley attempted a very awkward seduction.
He raised his scanty eyebrows in what he considered a rakish manner, pulled Allie close without preamble and put his thin, puckered lips on hers.
Having once been thoroughly kissed by Griffin, she was quite disappointed with this effort and drew back, not so much in alarm as in desperation to be quit of his attentions.
Beasley, taking her withdrawal as coy and sprightly behavior, pursued her once more and found his mouth pressing against her hair as her head turned sharply away. He pulled her face around with his hand, hurting her with an awkward grip, and forced another dry kiss upon her lips.
Allie drew away once more, irate that the young man should be so forward. She shoved against his chest with all her might. Beasley, thrown off balance, crashed into the gooseberry bush.
The plant teetered in its heavy base then crashed over the railing, taking Beasley with it. He grabbed at it desperately, striving for purchase. Arms and legs flailing, he landed awkwardly in a heap at the feet of Sir Gordon and Lady Eleanor while Allie peered at him from above.
"I say, what the devil is going on here?" Sir Gordon—barely able to withhold his guffaw of laughter at the sight of the young man sprawled in a pile of potting soil and broken branches—sobered instantly when he espied his sister peering at them from above.
Her face red with mortification, eyes round with fright, the girl looked ready to give justice to a bout of histrionics.
"Allie! Whatever are you doing—?" Sir Gordon bellowed at his young charge, his face thunderous.
"Hush Gordon! You'll draw more attention to Allie!" Lady Eleanor, less inclined to emotional behavior than she'd previously been given credit for, whispered to her beloved, "Help Beasley up and do hurry. Let me get Allie away from here. I think no one has noticed her yet, so do be quiet!"
Lifting her skirts a bit to aid her progress, Lady Eleanor hurried up the steps and went to stand next to her future sister-in-law.
"What have I done? Is he dead? Shall he be very angry?" Allie leaned over the balustrade. Lady Eleanor pulled her back sharply.
"I doubt Beasley will be anything but mortified. Quickly, let us away from here before someone connects you with his fall."
Lady Eleanor, having had experience with such assignations, did not doubt what had happened. "Foolish girl. Who gave you leave to be out here alone with him? This is the very thing that can ruin a lady's reputation."
As Lady Eleanor hustled Allie away from the scene, she continued to lecture, causing Allie to form a great resentment. Allie, who should have been grateful for Lady Eleanor's quick maneuver to remove her from the sphere of probable gossip, was developing a modicum of dislike for her.
But then, lately Allie had not been thinking straight and her perceptions were quite muddled.
Unaware she had given the girl cause for dislike, the gentle Lady Eleanor was pleased for having aided her beloved in the rescue of his sister. "Really, young woman, I should think you would know better!"
"You did not call me a child!" Allie, forgetting her resentment, was happy to hear herself described as a woman, and gave over her scowl with a tremulous smile for her benefactress. "I guess it was foolish of me. He seemed so—so harmless. Beasley has never done this before."
She put a hand to her lips as she admitted a previous assignation, horror at her slip causing her eyes to go round and large once more. "Ah—that is, he has never given me cause—"
Allie tried to withdraw her comment, but Lady Eleanor, eyes sparkling, gave the girl a shrewd look and Allie subsided, at a loss.
"Well, do not fret. I'm sure it is not the first time such a thing has happened." Lady Eleanor, absorbing Allie's allusion to not being called a child, was acutely aware of the importance of giving the girl status. "I can remember, for instance, a time during my first season—" and the lady described an amusing anecdote regarding herself in a similar situation.
Allie brightened considerably and by the time they had reached her Aunt Alana's side, she was laughing merrily at Lady Eleanor's antics.
Lady Alana was relieved to see her charge in such good humor and joined them in recounting a few of her own mishaps. The ladies were thus engaged when Sir Gordon joined them, frowning mightily.
The earl was close on his heels, and though he was not exactly smiling, his eyes twinkled merrily, for he had not been so hugely entertained in years. He drew his features into a solemn cast, however, when his friend glanced at him with irritation.
"I believe it would be prudent for us to leave now. Beasely's in a snit and I had to threaten him with bodily harm to prevent his spreading 'round this sad tale," the knight intoned gravely.
Sir Gordon then fixed his young sister with a quelling gaze. "He is not a very stable young man and you have managed to humiliate him dreadfully. He will only keep quiet about this if we are not here to remind him of his disgrace. A dozen persons at least have spied the two of you walking out to the terrace together and I shudder to think what tomorrows gossip will be. Not well done, Allie. Thought you'd have better sense."
Thoroughly chastised by her brother's censure, Allie shrank back into the shell of misery she had so recently withdrawn from, her eyes taking on a dullness once more.
Noticing this, Lady Eleanor gave the man a frown, and let fly with an invective. "Give over your pompous lecturing, Gordon! Can you not see the damage you are doing Allie? She has only just begun to emerge from her doldrums and you give her a setdown and a lecture for something that is no fault of hers. Better you whip that young man and chastise him for his behavior toward your sister."
With that, Lady Eleanor turned her back, pulled Allie's arm through her own, and with a haughty lift of her chin marched the girl away.
Her statement had not gone unnoticed by a few of the personages nearby, and before the evening was over a vast array of rumors had begun to fly about. One such rumor was that there would be a duel between Sir Gordon and Beasley at dawn. Another inferred Allie Pendleton had enticed the hapless Beasley to the veranda then, in an attempt to look the innocent, pushed him over when their tryst had been discovered by her brother.
And worse, there were those who suddenly remembered Griffin George having been much in Allie's company, only to disappear suddenly, giving rise to the dreaded speculation regarding her virtue.
There were other rumors, of course—gossip being what it is—but the main thrust was Beasely's behavior. Beasley himself, by his silence, did nothing to disabuse anyone of their particular notions, damning Allie.
Alas, gossip had come Allie's way at last.
When they were all once more seated in the carriage, a quiet came over the group as Allie sulked. Lady Eleanor fumed silently and stared a hole through Sir Gordon, who sat stiff and outraged under her gaze.
Lady Alana, as well as Rothburn, found it prudent to keep silent in view of the high tempers boiling at the moment.
The carriage crawled along slowly, traffic being quite a snarl due to the many balls and parties just breaking up at this hour. As a result, they were nearly forty minutes getting back to the Pendleton town house, without a word spoken by anyone.
<
br /> The air fairly crackled with tension and no one in the carriage sorry to depart its cramped interior. Sir Gordon took Lady Eleanor's arm to assist her up the steps, but she pulled away dramatically, startling all with her unusual display of ire. The usually mild-mannered lady was truly in a snit.
"I say, Eleanor. What is this exhibit for?" Sir Gordon protested her withdrawal with some heat in his voice.
"You, Sir, need to curb your excessive temper. The very idea of speaking so to your own sister!" She tossed her head and walked on, once more linking her arm through that of her would-be sister-in-law. It seemed her own rant to the girl was tolerable, but his was not.
Allie allowed herself to be led along, hardly aware of the goings-on around her. The girl had fallen so hard into her depressed state that Lady Eleanor was alarmed. Thus she could not countenance her beloved's seemingly callous behavior toward the obviously suffering young lady.
Falling in behind them, Sir Gordon merely shrugged. He raised his eyes to the sky in silent sufferance of women's tantrums, while Rothburn held out his arm for his own lady love and helped her up the steps.
Rothburn would have done well to keep silent, but his natural tendency to fix things got the better of him. When they were all seated in the small library, he made his fatal comments.
"Eleanor, your attitude wants thinking over. After all, Gordon is her brother, and as such, has a perfect right to chastise the girl if he feels it necessary. Don't be so hard on the poor fellow."
His voice was calmness and reason itself, but the flash of temper in her eyes told him immediately that he had made a grave mistake. Trying to overcome his faux pas, he turned to Lady Alana, hoping to enlist her aid.
A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) Page 12