A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series)

by Diane Davis White

  Chapter Nineteen

  ~~

  Alana almost had to skip in order to keep up with The Earl of Rothburn's rapid pace as he led her to the far wall of the garden. Seating her by a small fountain, he stood over her with an implacable gaze. She fidgeted and fussed with the ribbons on her bodice, not looking at him—fearing, in fact, to do so. The silence stretched long.

  "I have come to tell you only one thing, Alana." His stiff, angry words broke the strained quiet. "You either believe me or not regarding the on dit in the Times. If you do not, I shall withdraw my suit, for I have not the time nor the patience to wed a woman who cannot trust my word."

  He stepped back and turned toward the wall, his hands clasped behind him, rocking on his heels. He appeared cool and composed but he was not— he'd turned away only that she might not see his misery.

  His heart hammered while he awaited her response. The resolve in his voice had not yet transmitted itself to his heart—therefore, he needed to hide his eyes from her. Were he to show the least compassion, she would undo him, he was certain.

  Alana sat very still, thinking over his words and her sorrow grew in proportion to her anger as she realized he would never admit the truth. Thus, she reasoned she had no choice. "Rothburn, I know you feel I have wronged you in this matter but I cannot believe you would react so strongly to such an insignificant thing. If you cannot admit the truth to me and you do not wish to continue, I will be glad to let you cry off."

  She fell silent, her own heart hammering as she waited, in her turn, for him to respond.

  "Well, then it is settled. I will of course, allow you to be the one who renounces our engagement." He looked at her finally, turning slowly on his heel and assessing her features, hoping to see even a modicum of sorrow that might give him hope that she would relent.

  There was only the smooth glacial gaze that he had never before seen directed at him. It put him in such a foul mood he began to walk away quickly, lest he throttle her—or kiss her, for he wanted to do both. "I shall see this business settled with your mother and be on my way."

  "There is really nothing to settle. We have handled it all. You are, as usual, too late with your assistance." She could not keep from jabbing at him with the allusion that he had not been there when she needed him. "I know not where you have been these last days, nor do I care. I will see to a new bit of gossip for the society pages that will leave no one in doubt that we are no longer a twosome."

  She passed him as she ran into the house and grabbing her shawl, fled the room, calling for Sutherland to fetch her a public conveyance. Alana went to await the vehicle. With some consternation, she realized she was without her slippers—but dared not go back for them.

  The trio in the small salon witnessed her hasty departure, and that of Rothburn, good manners forgotten, as he hastened after her without a by-your-leave for anyone. He stopped only long enough to sweep up the small slippers and clutching them in a fist, went swiftly through the door.

  Sir Gordon stood, accepted the missive from his grandmother and gave Eleanor his hand, moving off toward the exit as well. Lady Grace, still seated at the desk, looked at them as they went. Her eyes glittered with malevolence, lips quivering with unspoken words of anger.

  Lady Alana trembled with the enormity of what had just transpired. Telling herself again it was for the best—she seemed to quarrel with the man more than anything—she couldn't quell her pain. When his carriage arrived before her hired one, she stood to one side as he dropped her shoes before her and went to his carriage, hopped inside and closed the door.

  She was fumbling to put the shoes on and did not see him when he came out of the carriage once more and ran up the steps, therefore she was quite off balance when he dragged her down the path and fairly pushed her into the waiting carriage.

  Sir Gordon and Lady Eleanor emerged from the house just in time to see the earl push a squealing, protesting Alana into his vehicle, and though Eleanor was dismayed, Sir Gordon grinned widely at the spectacle.

  Tucking the missive into his breast pocket, he offered the lady his arm, saying, "Shall we fetch your Missus Crofts and go for that ride now?"

  "As you wish Gordon, but I do hope you will not be too harsh with your grandmother. She is, after all, an old person and if you really withdraw her funds, she may be subject to a terrible decline."

  Lady Eleanor did not know him well enough yet, it would seem, to ascertain that he had no intention of beggaring his grandparent, though he would reduce her circumstances considerably if necessary. Enough to keep her out of London and society.

  "Do you think I would actually do it?" He looked at her with dismay.

  "Well, it seemed you would. I mean, you sounded as though you would." She looked up at him, studying his face, searching for her answer in the depths of his eyes, then with a smile she took his arm, maneuvering carefully down the steps.

  "But then again, you are a master of deceit, I can see." She leaned against him, squeezing his arm in affection. "I do know you would never carry out such a threat."

  "Do you think your aunt will brain Rothburn with a club?" Lady Eleanor giggled light heartedly. "I do so hope they get things ironed out, they are so entertaining to behold in their constant squabbles."

  "Well, it will be a close call for them both. My money is on Rothburn, however, for he is not the clown everyone thinks him to be. He will have her set to rights quickly if I know my man."

  * * * * *

  The Earl of Rothburn shoved the love of his life—none to gently—into the corner of the carriage, rapped his cane on the ceiling and they were off. She scowled at him, still trying to get her left slipper on. The trembling of her hands prevented success in her endeavor. He reached down and shoved the slipper in place, then dropped the foot quickly.

  Stunned by the touch of his hand on her bare ankle, Alana had no time to react. She sat gaping at him for some moments, while he gaped at her in return. Soon a wide grin came over his features and he could not help the guffaw of laughter that burst forth at the sight of her.

  Lady Alana Fisk was disheveled in the extreme, for her hair had come down from its pins and her perky bonnet had gone askew, the ribbons dangling over her face. Her gown was crumpled from being tossed into the carriage and her face was a study in indignation—and something else.

  Something that smoldered in her eyes that was not a bad thing at all.

  As she set about putting her bonnet straight and adjusting the pins in her hair, she lifted her arms, causing the material of her bodice to come tight over her bosoms, displaying them to ample advantage. Seeing this, Rothburn could not tear his gaze away. His smile melted into something very serious, his eyes glazing over at the sight.

  "Really, Rothburn. To stare so is very rude." Her husky voice was not at all angry. Lady Alana had come so close to losing him she determined to let him think she believed him, if only he gave her another chance to do so. "Be a gentleman and stop gaping at me thus."

  "But Dearest Alana, I cannot help it when you look as you do. I suppose we need to find a chaperone, but for the life of me, I want to take you off to the country now and be wed with all haste."

  "What?" She looked rather stunned and willing to be kissed, so he moved himself gracefully to her side of the carriage and took her hands, lifting them to his lips. She tried at first to pull them back, her confusion growing as the man changed from one mood to another with drastic speed.

  "Rothburn, whatever are you doing? You said we were quit. I do not understand, for I have not said I believe you about the Times."

  "Don't matter. Want you at any rate. If I have to wed you today, I shall do so. You will learn in time that I am a truthful man and if you don't, then I shall beat you regularly until you do learn."

  "And if you beat me, I shall take a broom to you first chance, or mayhap I will simply drown you in Port while you sleep. I vow, you should think twice before threatening me."

  Leaning very close, he whispered against her
lips as her arms came round his neck, "If I beat you, Love, you will be hard put to gainsay me, for I shall do a thorough job of it."

  He kissed her then, and she kissed him back, their mouths clinging hungrily, parting as the coach jolted on a particularly rough patch of street.

  Not one to let a swaying carriage deter him, the earl pulled her onto his lap and clasped her closer with one hand while deftly dropping the shade on first one window then the other, leaving them in near darkness.

  He then proceeded to kiss her so thoroughly they were barely aware when the carriage stopped before the Pendleton townhouse. The driver had assumed the destination—not having been instructed otherwise.

  As there was much to do to rearrange clothing and re-pin fallen hair, they were a very long time emerging from the vehicle. When Rothburn called for his footman to place the step, his voice was gruff and his breathing still rather erratic.

  As for the lady, well, she was breathless as well, and her eyes shown with a light of determination. "We really should get this wedding over with, Rothburn, before you completely ruin my reputation."

  "All the more reason for this, M'dear." Rothburn patted his breast pocket, wherein lay the special license needed for the ceremony. "With all haste, I think we should assemble our party and be off in the morning."

  "Can we be away that soon? I have not even finished my trousseau."

  "It can be done for you and delivered later. You shall not need many clothes for a while at least." He grinned at her and ducked as she swiped at him, a playful grin belying any real intent to harm.

  "Give me two days, Rothburn. After all, we have guests that have been waiting to assemble for a week or more. They must have some notice." She smiled at him, patting his cheek, her softly seductive voice winning him over immediately. She whispered, "We will have all of our lives to be together. I would have this one day as perfect as possible."

  When they came into the drawing room at last, Allie looked up from the letter she was reading and could not help but smile in response to their joy, though her own heart was heavy with pain.

  Griffin, it would seem, was having second thoughts once more about keeping her waiting. He had just written to inquire if she was certain she could or would wait such a very long time.

  "Do you think I could have a moment with you both? I have something I'd like to talk to you about." Her voice was just a little shy, for she could see the lovebirds had only eyes for each other, but in truth, she felt she could not wait to discuss her problem. "Griffin feels that I must change my mind soon, and he has me very upset."

  Sobering at the sight of her troubled eyes, the couple came and sat on either side of her and listened with patience as Allie explained.

  "I have told him countless times I would rather wait for him than choose another, and yet he persists in asking me if I am sure. It is very difficult to carry on a courtship with a gentleman who is so far away. I wish he could give over worrying about my feelings and just accept that I love him and will wait for as long as it takes."

  She then lowered her eyes and crumpled the letter, whispering, "I would rather we were wed right away, though. It is misery in the extreme to be kept from him for such long periods of time."

  "Allie, you will see Griffin in three days time, and you can have him to yourself in the garden of Jennings Manor to discuss this." Rothburn spoke gently to the girl and her eyes brightened.

  "We are leaving morning after next, and will be wed the day after that. You shall convince him, perhaps, not to wait so long and shorten the engagement by at least a year, if necessary."

  He frowned slightly in remembrance of a conversation he'd had with the boy and said, "Griffin is worried, you know, that he cannot provide for you without the charity of the family. You must be certain before you press him, of course. It would do neither of you any good to compromise your original plans for want of a little less time together."

  "You are right, of course. I know I am being selfish, but it is so very lonely without him here and I just did not realize it would be this difficult, you see." She looked from her aunt to the earl with pleading eyes.

  Lady Alana drew Allie close for a hug and smoothed back her amber curls. "Yes, we do see. Be sure of it. Perhaps Griffin will see things more your way, for he, too, must be very lonely and missing you a great deal. He writes nearly every day, does he not?"

  "Yes, but his letters have become a litany of late and say the same things, ask the same questions, over and over. It's as though we've lost the ability to communicate on any subject but the length of our engagement."

  "That is most likely because it is a problem uppermost in both your minds. We'll find a solution, never fear." Rothburn, waxing magnanimous in the extreme with his own good fortune, spoke with conviction, though he was not sure just what solution would serve these two young persons.

  He knew his cousin was set on providing for the girl on his own, but if they wed now, that would not be possible. Deciding to let the chips fall where they may, he vowed to get Griffin to the wedding and let them work out their own schedule.

  He turned to his betrothed with a gentle smile that quickly became a joyous grin, echoing her own. "I've much to do—and you as well—if we are to be on our way in two days time. As soon as Sir Gordon arrives, see if you can get him to alert our small guest list that the time has arrived."

  Smiling, Rothburn went out the door whistling a ditty. Lady Alana went into action—a veritable whirling dervish—Allie close on her heels, her own troubles forgotten momentarily.

  * * * * *

  Griffin opened the letter, delivered by a footman in Rothburn livery, and read it through twice before looking up at the messenger. "Tell His Lordship I will be in Cheshire on time. Here is something for your trouble, good man." He handed the servant two shillings and watched the man bow his way out of the room, grinning and jingling the coins in his hand.

  He then pocketed the three ten pound notes that had been included with an instruction to buy a decent set of clothes for the occasion. It would also pay for his travel expenses, which relieved the student immensely.

  Turning to his desk, he quickly pulled the lecture notes into a pile, stuffed them in a small valise, and went to pack a bag. Griffin was coming up on midterms and thought he should take at least some of his studies with him. He was anxious to do well and make his mark, that he might provide well for Allie and any children they would have.

  His heart quickened at the thought of seeing her in two days' time. It had been several weeks since the pair had seen one another and it had been a very lonely time for him—as Rothburn and Alana had predicted.

  Sometimes he regretted the waiting with such intensity that on more than one occasion he'd almost gone to his cousin with a plea for assistance so they might be wed immediately. Most often though, he banished the impulse by thinking of how much happier they'd be in the long run were he able to provide for them from the beginning, and so resolved to wait.

  If he could.

  He hurried along with his preparations, anticipating a much needed break from his studies—but mostly the mental image of Allie and her brilliant sapphire eyes held him in thrall. He was so engrossed in thinking of her that he nearly forgot to take his notes with him.

  At the last minute he snatched up his most recent letter to Allie and stuffed it in his breast pocket, thinking to deliver it in person—after finishing it, of course.

  * * * * *

  Cheshire was a veritable garden of spring, the trees full with new budding leaves, the wildflowers spread over the downs in a bright profusion of color, the sky more blue than any sky in the world. That is how the entourage viewed it, climbing the long drive to Jennings Manor.

  The first carriage held Rothburn, his mother and Sir Gordon. Behind them came Lady Alana, Allie and Griffin—who'd caught up with them at the last posting inn. The following six carriages held numerous relatives and friends, including Lady Eleanor and her parents, Lord and Lady Avonleigh, who were d
elighted to be included.

  Sir Gordon had been designated to give away the bride. Lady Alana's oldest brother—expecting his first child—could not very well leave his wife at a time like this. The next oldest brother, being in India with his regiment, the 16th Lancers, regrettably could not attend, either. The absence of her brothers on such an auspicious occasion saddened her, but Alana, looking forward to a new niece or nephew, was somewhat mollified.

  Conspicuously absent were the parents of the bride. By a marvel of maneuvering, Lady Grace had been kept in ignorance, much to the relief of all parties concerned. The bride was hurried to the suite assigned her, along with mounds of luggage and several ladies to assist in preparations. Allie, though reluctant to leave Griffin—even for a moment—understood the urgency of getting the wedding underway and left him in the library with the other gentlemen.

  * * * * *

  "Well, Rothburn, does your neck feel the noose tightening?" The Marquis of Darlington, who had come from his nearby estate, teased the groom, his tired old eyes studying the younger man." I made the leap four times, and it never got easier. I do hope you have better luck than I did."

  His words caused some laughter, excepting the nervous groom, whose cravat felt tight enough to choke him, as evidenced by his red face.

  Rothburn replied to the elderly peer with an air of one who is about to go to the gallows, "I admit to some hesitation, now that the moment is upon me, but I would hope that you all enjoy the spectacle, for I shall be calm as a stone after I finish this brandy."

  With that, he tossed back the amber liquid in such haste that he began to choke in earnest, eliciting more laughter. The mood was light, the participants eager for gaiety, consequently ready to laugh at nearly anything. Even the sight of a man choking—although he was in no danger of expiring from his hasty guzzling.

  Jennings—a cousin of Lord Champlay—eagerly greeted his gusts. He and Mrs. Jennings were a middle-aged, childless couple, happy to have all the excitement in their otherwise uneventful lives. Mistress Jennings had gone to great trouble to prepare her parlor for the nuptials and hothouse flowers were everywhere. The ancient oak furniture gleamed with polish and the atmosphere was cozy throughout the manor.