by Jane Peart
The result of Dru's wise planning was evident in Randall's pleased expression as he extended his arms to escort his daughters into the mirrored elegance of the main dining room that evening. And Dru, following with Jonathan, was aware of many heads turning in the direction of the two tall, slender blonds as they found their table.
As they were being seated, Dru had a small nagging concern about her youngest daughter, Evalee, who was becoming more and more of a problem. Earlier, the child had put up a fuss about going with their stewardess to dine with her younger Cameron cousins. Only the promise of the puppet show, a special entertainment arranged for the children afterward, had headed off a threatened tantrum.
Well, she wouldn't worry about that tonight, Dru decided. She was determined to enjoy herself and this wonderful trip with its chance to be with Jonathan, her favorite cousin. It would be the first time they had had any real time together in years—actually, since they both had married. And now they will have the fortnight it would take them to reach England.
Dru looked across the table at Lenora and Lalage. Both young women were flushed with excitement, their great dark eyes shining with delight as they took in everything about them. It made her smile just to see them so happy. This trip will be a wonderful experience for them, something they will remember all their lives, Dru thought.
Their stepmother was not the only one observing the Bondurant sisters with more than casual interest. One diner, in particular, found his attention riveted on them.
Victor Ridgeway, seated at a table opposite, lingered over his coffee and cognac, watching them discreetly. From his vantage point he had a clear view of the serene profiles, the sweep of blond hair caught up from the slender column of their necks. Enchanted, he could not take his eyes off them. One of them was especially stunning. Only the words of a famous poet could adequately describe her golden beauty, he thought: "A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair:" Who were they and how could he persuade the captain to introduce him?
At the Bondurant table, Lally nudged Lenora and whispered in her ear. "Don't look now, but right across from us is the most divine man staring at us!" She squeezed her sister's arm. "He has such brooding eyes. Oh, my! He is so romantic looking!"
Accustomed to her sister's enthusiasm, Lenora's gaze followed Lally's nod. There he was—a distinguished looking gentleman seated alone. His dark hair was cut close, defining a well-shaped head. And his eyes were marvelous. A narrow beard outlined a firm, strong jawline.
Just then those eyes caught and held hers. For a moment she could not draw a deep breath. She felt a tingling coursing through her body, and the color rose into her cheeks. As she looked away quickly, Lally sighed.
"I wish there were some way we could meet him."
The girls never expected that opportunity to come so soon, nor did they expect that it would change their lives forever.
"There he comes now!" hissed Lalage, clutching Lenora's arm just after they settled into their lounge chairs the next day.
Lenora recognized the man strolling toward them as the same man to whom she had had such a strange reaction at dinner the night before. Now at his approach, she was experiencing the same breathlessness. Flustered, she ducked her head over her book, and scolded, "For goodness sake, Lally! Don't be so obvious!"
"He's stopping at the rail right in front of us!" Lally informed her in an excited whisper. "He's looking out at the ocean!"
Lenora forced herself to keep her eyes on her book. But after reading the same sentence over for the third time, she gave in to her curiosity and lifted her eyes to look at him for herself.
It was just as Lally had said. He had paused at the railing as if to contemplate the sun shining on the water, calm as glass, on this third morning at sea. Of medium height, he had a lithe, trim build. He had looked quite splendid in dinner clothes but was equally striking, she thought, in the tweed Norfolk jacket and matching visored hat he was wearing today.
As she was making this survey, he turned and looked directly at her. A slight smile touched his lips as he raised his hand and tipped his cap, nodding before he moved on.
"Who do you suppose he is?" Lally exclaimed when he was out of sight. "He's obviously traveling alone."
"How do you know?"
"That's easy," Lally said. "He was sitting at a table for one last night. So that must mean he's not married."
"Not necessarily," Lenora said cautiously. "Jonathan's traveling alone and he's very much married—"
Ignoring her sister's remark, Lally hurried on. "I think he's a bachelor, or maybe a widower with a tragic past."
"Oh, Lally!" Lenora had to laugh, knowing what a romantic her sister was. A devotee of Brontë novels, she was prone to give people dark histories and secret tragedies.
"Well, anyway, I wish we could meet him," said Lally plaintively.
Sooner than either of them could possibly have imagined, they did. The very next day, while strolling with their parents on A deck, they came face-to-face with the gentleman in question in the company of the ship's captain, and introductions were made all around.
Later, in the privacy of their stateroom, Victor Ridgeway became the main topic of conversation. Lally was ecstatic.
"Did you hear his accent? So very British—so definitely upper-class. Why, he's probably of the nobility or most certainly of the aristocracy. Victor Ridgeway—" she repeated the name, drawing out each syllable. "He must be of a very fine old family, one with a country estate or an old castle or a manor house that's been there for generations—" Lally's voice drifted off dreamily.
That evening as the Bondurants were having their after-dinner coffee in the lounge, Victor Ridgeway himself entered and their father waved him over to join them. Although Randall and Mr. Ridgeway monopolized most of the conversation, Lenora found herself drawn to the melodious voice, the warm, intelligent eyes—
"I understand you have just made an extensive tour of the United States," their father was saying.
"But only the northeast and west," Victor corrected him almost apologetically. "I'm afraid I missed the southern states and historic South Carolina—a pleasure, I understand, that I should not forego next time I visit your country."
A few more pleasantries were exchanged before Mr. Ridgeway moved on to another table.
But the following day, as the girls joined other passengers routinely strolling the decks for exercise, they encountered Victor Ridgeway again, this time alone, and this time it seemed perfectly natural to stop and chat with him.
He fell into step beside them and afterward sent a note to Druscilla's stateroom, inviting her and the two young ladies to join him for tea in the First Class lounge. It was then that his warmth, pleasant personality, and interesting conversation won over their stepmother completely. They learned that he was widely traveled and had spent several winters in Italy, so they found much in common, since the Bondurants had lived near Rome when the girls were younger. Later, Dru commented favorably on Mr. Ridgeway's intelligence and charm.
Every afternoon thereafter, it seemed entirely natural that Victor should join the family for strolls on deck or engage with them in other shipboard activities, such as shuffleboard and quoits. And it became almost a daily event to have afternoon tea together and share after-dinner coffee in the lounge.
Of course, Evalee was sometimes around, and Lally, being the one most easily persuaded to "play" with their younger sister, often went off with the child, frequently leaving Lenora alone with Victor. Since he was at least ten years older than she, Lenora was surprised that they quickly found so many mutual interests.
They talked for hours about books, music, poetry. Before long, Lenora, always shy, found herself sharing more of herself than she ever did with anyone other than very close family members. It had all happened so quickly, so naturally, that even Lenora did not realize just when their friendship had deepened into love. Not until the morning of their sixth day at sea, when she answered the steward's knock a
nd was presented with a single white rose and an envelope containing a note addressed to her.
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever, Its loveliness increases—" from "Ode on a Grecian Urn," Keats
First glance, first word, our first hour together will remain a shining memory pressed to my heart. Like a lovely flower,it will always retain its sweet perfume.
Yours devotedly,
Victor Ridgeway.
As she read it, Lenora's cheeks flamed and her heart thudded crazily.
"What is it, Noey?" her sister asked curiously.
"It's a flower, a rose—" She held it up, then put it to her nose, inhaling its fragrance. Then, eyes, wide with wonder, she turned to her sister. "And . . . a note . . . from Victor Ridgeway."
"From Victor Ridgeway?" The younger girl paled. "For you?"
There was something in her sister's voice that tugged at Lenora's heart, and she turned a stricken look on her. "Yes . . . Oh, Lally, I'm sorry! I never meant... I hope you didn't... Here, you read it," she faltered, handing the note to Lally.
Lalage's expression underwent a series of changes, from interest to disappointment, and at last, resignation. Then she looked at Lenora, her eyes huge. "You realize, don't you, that Victor Ridgeway is in love with you?" she demanded. She shrugged and gave a rueful smile. "And just when I was hoping I could be the one. Well, I guess he couldn't be in love with both of us!" The usual mischievous twinkle returned to her eyes. "I'm sure he had to draw straws to decide which of us it would be!" Then she laughed and gave her sister an impulsive hug. "I'm glad for you, Noey. Besides, I was too young for him anyhow!"
chapter
12
SINCE RANDALL BONDURANT had come into her life, first as her employer after she accepted his offer to become governess to his two daughters, then as her husband, Druscilla had become a world traveler. Always a keen observer of people, she could not fail to notice Victor Ridgeway's increasing attentiveness to Lenora.
Having been the witness to many "shipboard romances" that ended abruptly once an ocean liner docked in port, Dru was wary. She did not want Lenora to be hurt by the older man's flattering attention. Dru was afraid that, in her inexperience, the young woman might mistake it for more than it meant.
Yet, as she continued to watch the relationship develop, what had at first appeared to be only a brief romantic attachment for the duration of the Atlantic crossing became much more. At length, Dru felt she must discuss her concern with Lenora's father.
"Randall, I really need to talk to you about something," she said one day as she entered their stateroom after breakfast and her morning stroll.
A look of impatience crossed her husband's face. "Can it wait, my dear? My bridge partner is waiting for me in the salon."
By the third day at sea, Randall had found three other avid card players and had initiated a daily game. Although he had long ago given up gambling as a profession, Randall enjoyed the skill and competition of the game of bridge, just now coming into popularity.
"It's important. At least, I believe that it is." Dru's brows furrowed in concern. "It's Lenora."
"Lenora?" Randall looked surprised.
Of his three daughters, Lenora was the one least expected to cause a problem. Indeed, she had never given them a moment's worry. Now, if Dru had said Evalee, that would have been an entirely different matter. His youngest was a little minx, with the promise of turning her parents' hair gray in the years ahead. But Randall did not want to contemplate that—not just yet.
"Yes. Lenora," Dru repeated. "It's about—Victor Ridge-way. Well, I think . . . I suspect . . . actually, I'm sure he is quite smitten with Noey and . . . well, he's much too old and sophisticated for her!" Dru finished breathlessly.
"What makes you come to such an astonishing conclusion?"
"Why, it's obvious! At least, to me. He can't take his eyes off her, he follows her every move, he hangs on her every word, he takes every opportunity to be near her. He walks when she walks, he accompanies her to her deck chair, he manages to be at the tea table when she arrives—oh, any number of things tell me it is true!"
"Well, has he behaved in an unseemly manner, taken any advantage—?"
"No, no, of course not. Mr. Ridgeway is a perfect gentleman. A perfect English gentleman, which adds all the more appeal to his attentions. Our girls are quite sheltered, you know. We live so simply on the island, with no social life to speak of, except when we go to Charleston at Christmas time to stay with your mother and sisters. But Lenora has no experience with the likes of Victor Ridgeway—" Dru hesitated, struggling to put her vague uneasiness into words.
"Besides, there's some mystery about him," she continued. "Nothing I can put my finger on, but he is treated with such deference by the officers and crew, even Captain Streicher, almost as if he were—I don't know—somebody?
A suspicion of a smile curved Randall's mouth. "Somebody? My dear, everybody is 'somebody'."?
"Oh, Randall! Don't mock me. You know what I mean! He is forming a . . . an attachment to her!"
"So what do you want me to do about this so-called 'attachment,' which I must say—" Here Randall paused, regarding his wife with outright amusement— "seems a most unnatural attraction. I can't imagine why a vigorous young man with two good eyes should notice a beautiful young lady!"
"Don't tease, Randall. This is serious."
"My darling wife, I don't agree. I don't think it's at all serious. Certainly nothing for you to be upset about. Listen, we are fewer than four days away from England. This attraction that worries you so much can last only a few more days at most. Once we dock, we whisk our daughter away to the English countryside, where your aunt has promised to supply her with all manner of proper young British blades nearer her own age. No doubt, some of them will be equally smitten, as you call it, with the lovely Lenora. So, for goodness sake, put your mind to rest and concentrate on keeping Evalee out of mischief—a much more worthwhile occupation, if you must worry about something."
With that, Randall crossed the room, took Dru's face in both hands, and kissed her long and thoroughly. When she opened her eyes, he was smiling down at her.
"Now, go enjoy your day. This is a wonderful chance for you and your cousin Jonathan to have a nice leisurely visit—one I know you've been looking forward to for a long time. And now I must go. Wish me luck and a good hand. Arthur Pelham is a wicked opponent."
After Randall left, Dru gave a long sigh. She hoped her husband was right. That there was really nothing to worry about. Maybe she had overreacted. But there was something about Lenora—a certain distant look in her eyes, except when she was in Victor Ridgeway's presence, when she came truly alive. In Dru's opinion, her stepdaughter's glow was more than the effects of the invigorating sea air!
Dru sighed again and picked up her mohair shawl. She had better hurry or she'd be late for her daily deckside stroll with her cousin. Her visits with him had been delightful, if somewhat unsatisfactory. Something was troubling Jonathan. Maybe, before long, he would tell her what it was.
As Dru came up on deck, she paused for a moment before she caught sight of Jonathan. He was leaning on the railing, his head turned to study the horizon, where the deep blue sky met the foam-flecked ocean swells.
In that unguarded moment, Jonathan looked vulnerable, sad, even melancholy. He was keeping something from her! The easygoing manner he had adopted since setting sail on this trip was only a facade. Why hadn't she noticed the signs of strain, the lines around his mouth, the deep unhappiness in his eyes?
Unaware of her presence until she touched his arm, Jonathan turned quickly to greet her. But for a split-second before the smile came—the endearing, boyish one—Dru could read the tragedy in his face, and it wrenched her heart.
"Dru! Good morning!" He tucked her arm through his as they began to walk.
After a few turns around the deck, Jonathan showed no signs at all of dropping his determined air of cheerfulness. But the fact that only three days remained bef
ore reaching their destination gave Dru the courage to blurt out the question she had been wanting to ask from the first.
"Are you happy, Jonathan?"
He looked startled but recovered quickly. "Why, of course! Why wouldn't I be? Seeing you again, Cousin. Fine accommodations, superb cuisine, excellent companions. Even the weather has cooperated in giving us a perfect crossing."
"Oh, Jonathan, that isn't what I meant! It's just that I want so much for you and Davida to be happy. I had hoped that having Montclair—your rightful heritage—would give you a good start. Was I right?"
Jonathan patted her hand but didn't reply right away. Finally he pulled her into a sheltered passageway.
"You're wondering if you did the right thing deeding Montclair back to me? It was such a generous thing to do, Dru, and so like you to do it. And I appreciate Randall's sensitivity to our family as well—and yes, it did make me very happy—"
"But?" she persisted. "I feel there is an important 'but', Jonathan."
"Dru, I hope you'll understand what I'm about to say."
Try me."
"I could be completely content, Dru. It's Davida. I've tried everything to please h e r . . . and I guess I just don't know how to make her happy—" he trailed off miserably.
"You can't make someone else happy, Jonathan," Dru said gently.
"I know that but . . . well, you see, she never really wanted to move to Virginia . . . away from her father. She agreed only because she thought it was expected of her—" Jonathan paused again, looking out toward the ocean, dark blue now and sparkling with sunlight "It hasn't worked out, Dru. Each year when she goes to visit her father in Massachusetts, she stays away longer and longer—"
Dru felt a rush of sympathy for her cousin but could think of nothing to say to comfort him.