My Elusive Countess

by Carolynn Carey

  She frowned, causing her maid to pause. “Am I pullin’ yer hair, milady?”

  Amanda forced a smile. “No, not at all. Just a stray thought, Janie. Please continue.”

  But after she was tucked into bed, she continued to brood over Blackbourne’s behavior toward her. He’d ignored her ever since their passionate embrace at Willow Place, which of course had led her to believe he regretted kissing her.

  Perhaps he had initiated the kiss only with the intension of distracting her from worry about David and had been astonished when so much passion flared between them. Amanda could easily imagine that being the case, considering how surprised she herself had been.

  But surely that was no excuse for his acting as though she didn’t exist. Could he blame her for participating in that kiss, for prolonging it and for making it obvious that she was enjoying his embrace?

  There was only one way to find out. Amanda decided that she would ask him tomorrow during their drive. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was to ask questions when she needed answers. And she certainly needed answers regarding Blackbourne’s behavior toward her.

  Having decided what action she would take, Amanda at last fell asleep. Unfortunately, her sleep was disturbed frequently by dreams involving Blackbourne, dreams that brought warmth to her cheeks even though she was alone in the dark.

  * * * * *

  Amanda and Rebecca had just sat down for breakfast the following morning when one of the footmen appeared with a note from Blackbourne’s aunt. Lady Cordelia had written to tell Amanda that she was suffering from another headache and would have to cancel their plans for the day. She would be back in touch as soon as her health permitted, she wrote.

  “I cannot say that I am sorry,” Rebecca remarked when Amanda shared the contents of the note with her. “For some reason, I do not like that woman.”

  “Why, Becky.” Amanda stared at her companion in amazement. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you express such an opinion about anyone before.”

  Rebecca flushed, even as her lips tightened. “I should not have spoken so, of course, but rarely has anyone irritated me as quickly as did Lady Cordelia. I cannot explain, even to myself, why I feel as I do, but I cannot help thinking that the lady is being less than honest with you.”

  “Do you think she resents having to sponsor me?” Amanda asked quickly. “Blackbourne once told me that his aunt could refuse him nothing. Perhaps—”

  “Now, now,” Rebecca interrupted. “No need to try to read motives into the lady’s actions. You must, of course, accompany her when she offers again, but I think you need not worry about spending a great deal of time with Lady Cordelia. If I am not mistaken, the Clemmons family is growing very fond of you. With their help, you will soon have enough friends to ensure that David need not be ashamed of his mother when he is ready to take his place in London.”

  “I do hope so,” Amanda murmured. She instantly brightened. “But I am thankful for the free time. Now I can pay a visit to Mr. Mason.”

  “And who is Mr. Mason?”

  “Surely you remember him, Becky. He was Father’s partner in the foundry and he is still managing my part of the business. I tried to give him an extra percentage of the profits for his efforts on my behalf, but he refuses to take more than half. Will you come with me?”

  “To a foundry?” Rebecca stared at Amanda as though she had just suggested a trip to the far side of the world.

  “Yes, of course. Where else would I find Mr. Mason at this hour?”

  Rebecca carefully replaced a piece of toast on her plate. “Ladies do not visit foundries,” she said with compressed lips.

  “But most ladies do not own fifty percent of a foundry, either,” Amanda pointed out. “If you do not wish to accompany me, I shall, of course, go alone.”

  “Absolutely not,” Rebecca said. “How soon do you wish to leave?”

  Amanda’s gaze dropped to her plate as she began carefully spreading butter on her toast. “Not for another hour,” she replied, finally lifting her gaze to stare solemnly into her companion’s eyes.

  “I shall be ready,” Rebecca said, standing stiffly and turning to march from the room, disapproval clear in her every stilted move.

  * * * * *

  “Good afternoon, Miss Thornton.” Blackbourne frowned slightly when Rebecca entered the drawing room alone. He had asked to see Amanda and was surprised by the extent of his disappointment when her companion appeared instead. “I am aware that I am two hours early, but after learning that my aunt had canceled her plans for the day, I had hoped Lady Willowvale would receive me anyway. Is she so upset with my aunt that she refuses to see me?”

  “No, no,” Rebecca murmured, dropping into a chair near the doorway. “And no one is upset with your aunt. The poor lady is not to be blamed if she is beset by frequent headaches.”

  “I see,” Blackbourne said, although his expression indicated that he was still puzzled. “Perhaps I called at a bad time then?”

  “Yes. No. I mean, Amanda is not at home.” Rebecca took a deep breath. “I am glad you are here, your lordship. I have been extremely worried about Amanda. She went alone into one of the less savory sections of town nearly three hours ago. I blame myself. She asked me to accompany her, but when I made no secret of my reluctance, she slipped away without me.”

  “Where has she gone?”

  “To the Mason Foundry. Are you familiar with it?”

  “A foundry? I fear not. But why would Lady Willowvale wish to visit such a place?”

  Rebecca sighed. “Because Mr. Mason is an old friend of her father’s, and because Amanda owns half of the business.”

  “Lady Willowvale owns half of a foundry?” Blackbourne was aware that his tone suggested stupefaction, which pretty much summed up how he felt.

  “Yes.” Rebecca sighed again. “I assume you are unaware of Amanda’s circumstances. Ordinarily, I would discuss her affairs with no one, but as David’s guardian, you must find out someday. Upon her father’s death, Amanda inherited two factories in the north, half of the Mason Foundry here in London, a small fleet of ships, and—”

  “Dear god,” Blackbourne interrupted. “If word of her holdings got out, Amanda would be ruined socially. Why has she not sold her interests?”

  Rebecca grimaced. “The terms of her father’s will do not allow her to sell any of the businesses she inherited. They are to go to David when he turns twenty-four and then he may do as he wishes with them. Fortunately, Amanda has been able to employ excellent managers and, as a rule, she has no contact with the day-to-day operations. The foundry, however, is run by Mr. Mason himself, and he is a favorite of Amanda’s. She refuses to cut the acquaintance merely because she married into the peerage.”

  “Could she not have invited the man here rather than dashing off to visit him in a section of town that probably sees few ladies?”

  “I suspect he would not have come,” Rebecca said. “Many in the merchant class possess a stubborn pride that would astound you. Mr. Mason might well have feared that his manners would embarrass Amanda, although she herself would not have cared. Lord Blackbourne, will you try to find her?”

  “Of course. But first I must learn the location of the Mason Foundry. Do you know the address?”

  “No, nor do any of the servants. I have already inquired.”

  “In that case, I had best consult my valet.”

  “Your valet?” Rebecca’s expression indicated she was certain he had lost his senses.

  Blackbourne grinned. “Yes. Rest easy, Miss Thornton. If anyone can help us find the foundry, Stephens can.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Half an hour later, Blackbourne was driving his curricle toward a section of town he had never visited before. Stephens, seated beside him, gripped the side of the carriage and cursed quite fluently under his breath. He gasped audibly when Blackbourne wheeled around a cart, missing it by mere inches. “Lord Almighty,” Stephens muttered. “If ye expect me
to guide ye, yer lordship, ye’ll have to slow this rig down. At the rate we’re goin’, everything’s jest a blur to me.”

  “You would make a more effective guide if you would open your eyes,” Blackbourne noted with a scowl, but he also slowed his pace. He had, after all, almost convinced himself that there was no reason to worry about Amanda. For one thing, she had taken her coach, which meant that her coachman would be along to watch over her. In addition, assuming she had arrived at her destination without encountering problems, Mr. Mason would surely see to it that she was returned home safely.

  So why were his palms damp and his mouth dry? He was overreacting, he silently admonished himself. Amanda would be safe. Unlike the ladies of the ton, who were carefully shielded from contact with anyone outside their own milieu, Amanda had been raised among the common people. She would know how to take care of herself. Wouldn’t she?

  “How much farther, Stephens?”

  “Not more’n a mile. Turn right at the next cross street.”

  Ten minutes later Blackbourne pulled his horses to a stop in front of a sprawling building sporting a sign that read “Mason’s Foundry.” He glanced toward the front door just in time to see Amanda stepping outside. She smiled broadly while looking at her escort, a burly man with an expression of fondness on his square face.

  Amanda turned toward the curricle just as Blackbourne tossed his reins to Stephens and jumped into the street. “Lord Blackbourne,” she exclaimed. Her eyes suddenly widened with apprehension. “Has something happened to David?”

  The man beside Amanda stepped closer to her side. “Is this the feller yer late husband appointed to see to David’s welfare?” he asked, scowling.

  “Yes, Uncle Martie.” Amanda laid her hand on the fellow’s arm as though to calm him. “Lord Blackbourne is David’s guardian.” She still stared at Blackbourne, her eyes wide. “Why are you here, my lord?”

  Rarely had Blackbourne felt more the fool than he did now. The street on which he stood was not elegant but it was certainly respectable. Clerks dressed in black and footmen sporting their masters’ livery hurried about their business, appearing harried but not at all dangerous. Not a single pickpocket or procuress could be seen lurking in the shadows. “Nothing is wrong with David,” Blackbourne replied stiffly. “Miss Thornton was concerned about your safety and asked me to find you.”

  Amanda moaned. “I am so sorry that she sent for you. She should have known I was in no danger. You must be growing tired of our running to you with our problems.”

  Blackbourne smiled at last. “Not at all. In fact, Miss Thornton did not send for me. I happened to call in Berkeley Square to see you.” Still smiling, he turned to Amanda’s escort. “Mr. Mason, I assume.”

  Mr. Mason did not return Blackbourne’s smile. Instead, he surveyed him critically, his gaze shrewd and penetrating. “You’d be that friend of Mandy’s late husband,” he finally said.

  Blackbourne raised his eyebrows. “That is correct.”

  Mr. Mason’s expression hardened as though Blackbourne had just confirmed that he was a felon on the run.

  Blackbourne was perfectly aware that he had been judged by Mr. Mason and found wanting. He did not, however, understand why Mr. Mason had so instantly taken him in dislike, nor, he told himself, did he care.

  But why could he not subdue his sudden fury upon finding Amanda not only safe but also quite at ease in the company of the scowling Mr. Mason? Clenching his teeth, he turned to Amanda. “Perhaps we should postpone our drive in the park until another day, Lady Willowvale. You will, no doubt, be weary by the time you return from this expedition.”

  Amanda blinked, then narrowed her eyes. Clearly she realized that he was angry with her and she was irritated with him in return. “I am not such a pathetic creature as to be exhausted by visiting with an old friend for a few hours. But no doubt you are feeling that Becky and I have infringed upon your time enough for one day. Perhaps you would prefer that we postpone our outing indefinitely.” She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him.

  “As you wish, my lady.” Blackbourne spun on his heel and vaulted into his curricle. He did not look back as he drove away.

  * * * * *

  When Amanda stepped into the entrance hall upon her return to the town house, Hammond immediately informed her that Miss Judith Clemmons and her maid had called. Miss Clemmons was presently being entertained by Miss Thornton in the green drawing room.

  Amanda was delighted. She needed someone sparkling and cheerful like Judith to help her banish the depression that had settled upon her during the ride back from her visit with Uncle Martie. That depression, she realized, resulted from her disappointment in Blackbourne. Prior to this afternoon, she had begun to believe that he was different from Oliver, that he was capable of seeing the good in all people, regardless of their status. She found she could no longer believe that, and her sense of loss was almost overwhelming.

  Amanda hurried to the drawing room and greeted her guest with undisguised pleasure. “Good afternoon, Miss Clemmons. How kind of you to call.”

  “Not really,” Judith responded with an impish grin, jumping to her feet when Amanda entered. “I have a very selfish reason for being here.”

  “And that would be?” Amanda asked, smiling in anticipation of Judith’s answer.

  “Mama and I wish to remind you and Miss Thornton about the small gathering to be held at our house tonight. The formal invitations went out weeks ago, before we had met you, and although Mama invited you in person, she feared you might feel slighted because you did not receive a written invitation. Thus you see me here, pleading with you to believe that your presence is critical to the success of our evening.”

  “I appreciate your visit and assure you that we look forward to attending,” Amanda said immediately. “Don’t we, Rebecca?”

  Judith turned to Rebecca. “Please say you plan to come, Miss Thornton.”

  “Very well,” Rebecca replied. “At what hour would you like us to arrive?”

  “At nine o’clock, if you please. Mama will be so happy. Thank you for your understanding. I look forward to seeing you tonight.”

  “A nice young lady,” Rebecca commented after Judith had made her exit.

  “High praise indeed, coming from you, Becky,” Amanda said with a cheerful smile. “Personally, I think she is delightful. She is both kind and unpretentious.”

  “Yes. An original, one might say.”

  Amanda’s smile faded. “Definitely an original,” she agreed grimly. “Kind and unpretentious are not adjectives one can accord to all members of the ton.”

  Rebecca looked up sharply. “I asked Lord Blackbourne to follow you this afternoon, my dear, because I was concerned for your safety. Did he locate you?”

  “Yes,” Amanda replied shortly.

  “And did something untoward occur?”

  “No, nothing at all out of the ordinary,” Amanda answered, turning away to hide the sudden rush of tears to her eyes.

  “In that case, shouldn’t you hurry and change clothes so you’ll be ready when he comes to take you for your expedition to the park?”

  Amanda blinked her tears away, turned to face her companion and affected a smile. “Oh, did I not tell you? Lord Blackbourne and I discussed the situation and decided to postpone our drive until another day. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Becky, I wish to choose a gown to wear tonight.” Still holding her smile in place, she turned and hurried through the door and up the stairs toward her chamber before Rebecca could question her further.

  * * * * *

  The Clemmons’ town residence in Charles Street was ablaze with light and the street was crowded with carriages as Amanda’s coach made its way toward the front of the house.

  “Miss Clemmons’ definition of a ‘small gathering’ does not coincide with mine,” Rebecca commented.

  “Nor mine,” Amanda said. She was beginning to wish she had not accepted Judith’s invitation. She feared her only acquaintances at th
is gathering would be the Clemmons family members, and they could not be expected to devote all of their time to a single guest. Everyone else would probably ignore her, just as they had when Oliver had escorted her to the functions of polite society.

  “Perhaps we should turn around and go—” she began, only to be interrupted by a liveried footman who had stepped forward to open the coach door. It was too late to instruct her coachman to leave.

  Ten minutes later, Amanda and Rebecca received a sincere welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Clemmons and from Judith and Anthony who had formed a receiving line at the top of the stairs. The rooms beyond teemed with people. “Thank you both for coming tonight,” Mrs. Clemmons said. “We would have been so disappointed had you been otherwise engaged.”

  Amanda took a deep breath. It was obvious the Clemmons family was on excellent terms with the cream of the ton. Amanda recognized half a dozen people who had snubbed her during her previous foray into society. The uncertainty she thought she had put behind her rushed back, but she refused to be intimidated. She lifted her chin and smiled.

  “How charming you look this evening, Lady Willowvale,” Anthony Clemmons said, bowing over Amanda’s hand. He turned to his mother. “I pray you will excuse me, ma’am, but, as you are aware, I’m a selfish creature and cannot bear being separated from these two lovely ladies. With your permission, I shall take one on each arm and drive the other gentlemen mad with jealousy.”

  Mrs. Clemmons regarded her son with a fond smile. “Very well, but you must not monopolize the ladies’ company. Our other guests will be eager to meet Lady Willowvale and Miss Thornton.”

  “You can depend on me, ma’am.” Anthony bowed to his mother before taking Amanda on his left arm and Rebecca on his right. He immediately led them toward a group of young people clustered near one of the doors leading out onto a balcony.

  “Mr. Clemmons,” a petite brunette called as they approached the group. Amanda recognized her as the Earl of Simpton’s daughter, Lady Sarah, who had once snubbed Amanda when Oliver had left her alone among strangers. Amanda’s face burned as she recalled the occasion when she had tried to initiate a conversation with the pretty young woman standing beside her at a musicale before the program started. Lady Sarah had stuck her nose in the air and turned her back. Now, over three years later, Amanda noted that Lady Sarah was still pretending that Amanda did not exist. She reached past Amanda to grasp Anthony’s arm and pull him into the group.