Spirited Brides

by Amanda McCabe

  “Very well,” said Antoinette. “We shall make a party of it, then. This Friday, in the East Tower, I think. We will make a believer of Lord Royce if it is the last thing we do.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I think we should have a ball,” Lady Royce announced the next morning as they all walked along the cliffs on their way to a picnic.

  “A ball, Mother?” Lord Royce said, shifting the large hamper under his arm. “Who would we invite?”

  “Why, all the neighbors, of course! They are all back from Town, and from their holidays in Brighton and Bath, and they haven’t been invited to the castle in a very long time. We should do something to entertain our guests properly.”

  “Oh, don’t go to any trouble on our account, Melinda,” said Chat. “We are quite happy just being here. Are we not, girls?”

  Cassie and Antoinette murmured in agreement, but secretly Cassie thought a ball sounded splendid.

  “Nonsense!” Lady Royce cried. “We will have a ball. A masked ball! There is a dressmaker in the village who can do our costumes for us. I will have her come to the castle this week!” It was obvious that she had thought about this ball idea quite a bit.

  “A masked ball?” Lord Royce said, his handsome face the picture of dismay.

  “Yes! A masked ball. You can wear a toga, dear, or whatever it was Greeks wore. You don’t need to worry about a thing, Phillip. I will plan it all.” Then Lady Royce took Chat’s arm and led her ahead on the pathway, saying, “Now, Chat dear, you do so much entertaining in Bath, I would like your opinion on the menu for the ball . . .”

  Antoinette walked ahead with them, leaving Cassie alone with Lord Royce. They followed the three women slowly.

  “You do not seem very enthusiastic about the idea of a ball, Lord Royce,” Cassie said.

  “It would be very—interesting. You can tell a great deal about people by what they choose to dress as at a masked ball,” he answered, but his expression was still doubtful.

  “Indeed.” Then, since she was rather excited by the idea of the dance and didn’t want him dampening her enthusiasm, she changed the topic. “My aunt tells us that your work on ancient Greece is very well known. I’ve already told you that you are quite admired by the members of her Philosophical Society.”

  He tilted his head as he looked at her, as if puzzled by her words. “I have had some modest success,” he said quietly. “Though some say it is not proper for an earl to write and publish, I feel that the knowledge is too important not to share, no matter what the gossip.”

  “Quite right. And how is it you became so interested in Greece?”

  “Do you truly wish to know, Miss Richards?” he asked, taking her elbow in his free hand to help her down the steps to the shore. Even through the thick wool of her pelisse, his touch was warm and reassuring. “Or are you just being polite?”

  Cassie would never have thought she would truly be interested in the intricacies of ancient Greece. But she found that, strangely enough, she was. Very much. “I am interested.”

  “When I was a child, my father had a book about the wonders of ancient Greece. I read it over and over until it fell apart. It inspired me to study the classics at Oxford,” he said. “But other than that one book, I did not know much about the ancient world. My tutors, and the school I attended, were much more concerned with the running of estates and playing cricket. It was at Oxford that I first read Socrates and Plato and Aristotle, and they opened my eyes to so many things.”

  “Things such as what?” Cassie asked, intrigued.

  “Well, for a beginning, they emphasized logic and the meanings of words. They based their beliefs on empirical knowledge rather than religion or rituals or myth. They sought natural explanations for natural phenomena. Our own world seems so very chaotic at times, do you not agree? With the wars, and Prinny in charge, and all these poets running about.”

  “Hmm,” Cassie answered slowly, going over his words in her mind. “Order can be comforting. It was a great relief to me to be in Aunt Chat’s safe, comfortable home after the confusion of my father’s death. But the Greeks were not always so reasonable, were they? I mean, the Delphic Oracle was not such a sensible idea, was it, yet they believed it. And they had plenty of poets of their own ‘running about.’ ”

  She expected him to quarrel with her, and stiffened her shoulders in preparation to retort. After all, it was rather intimidating to argue with a scholar when one knew almost nothing about the subject.

  But, to her surprise, Lord Royce just laughed, and said, “Touché, Miss Richards! And quite right, too. There are some things about human nature that never change. I should know that, from all the reading I have done of late on the foolishness of the Greek wars.”

  “Exactly so. The horrors of war do not change. Neither does family, or honor, or—or love.”

  Lord Royce looked at her, and, for one long, sweet moment, Cassie felt that they were in accord with one another. She wanted so much to go on talking of these things, things she had never really stopped to think about before, but Lady Royce called out to them.

  “Come along, you two!” she cried over the sound of the waves. “What are you dawdling about for? We have found the perfect place for our picnic, here behind these rocks.”

  Lord Royce smiled at Cassie, and led the way over to where the others were waiting. Chat had already spread the blanket out carefully on the sand, and they waited only for the hamper Lord Royce carried.

  It was the perfect place, Cassie thought as she settled herself on the blanket next to Antoinette and leaned back against a large rock. The crash of the waves was muffled here, and the wind turned away. She would almost have thought herself warm, with the pale sunlight beaming down on her uncovered head. It held all the promise of a perfect afternoon, with good friends and the sea.

  Yet she almost wished she was alone with Lord Royce, so they could just go on and on talking, with him watching her with his lovely gray eyes.

  “What were you two speaking of?” Lady Royce asked, unpacking the bounty of pork pies, cold chicken, and apple tarts from the hamper. “You were talking so intently.”

  “Your son was telling me about his work, Lady Royce,” Cassie said. “About the philosophy of ancient Greece.”

  “You poor dear! Here, you must be in need of some sherry.” Lady Royce poured out a generous measure of the dark gold liquid and passed it over the hamper to Cassie.

  “Mother! I am hardly in the habit of boring guests so deeply that they require potent drinks to stay conscious,” Lord Royce muttered.

  Cassie laughed and sipped her sherry. “Indeed, I was not bored, Lady Royce! I found it quite fascinating.”

  “After the exciting life you must have lived in the Indies?” Lady Royce sounded most disbelieving.

  “Jamaica was not always as exciting as all that,” Cassie said, thinking back on the long, hot, lazy days, and the flower-scented nights, when the distant sounds of drums and the ocean would come through her open window.

  No, not terribly exciting. But very sweet.

  “Not exciting at all?” Lady Royce said in a disappointed voice.

  “Well, there were a lot of parties. Especially when my mother was alive. How she loved to dance!” Cassie smiled at the memory.

  “My brother’s wife was a beautiful woman,” Chat offered. “And a vivacious spirit.”

  “Indeed? What of your mother, Miss Duvall? Was she also a—vivacious spirit?” Lady Royce asked Antoinette.

  “My mother was devoted to her studies, Lady Royce,” Antoinette answered. “Just as your son is.”

  “People came from all over the island to hear her wisdom,” said Cassie.

  “Just like the Delphic Oracle,” Lord Royce murmured. “I should very much like to hear about it sometime.”

  “Would you truly? Or are you just being polite?” Cassie teased, echoing his earlier words to her.

  He laughed. “I assure you, Miss Richards, I am never ‘just polite.’ ”

>   After they finished eating, Cassie, Antoinette, and Lord Royce set off to look at the tunnels, leaving Chat and Lady Royce to their gossip and the last of the sherry.

  The passages were mostly blocked up, just as Lord Royce had said they would be, and what was left was drafty and damp. Sand and pebbles had blown in to form a thin layer on the hard-packed floor. There were crates piled up along the cold walls, and a few upturned fishing boats.

  Cassie thought, with a small thrill, that it looked like a smuggler’s lair. She leaned back against one of the boats and looked around, wondering what sort of daring adventures had once happened in these tunnels.

  Suddenly, her reverie was broken when Antoinette gave a scream and collapsed into a heap on the dirty floor. Her green cloak spread about her in a dark pool.

  “Antoinette!” Cassie cried, running across the tunnel to fall down on her knees at her friend’s side. “Antoinette, what is it?” She placed Antoinette’s head carefully on her lap and rubbed at her cold wrists, wishing desperately that she was the sort to carry smelling salts around with her.

  “What happened?” Lord Royce said, his voice hoarse with concern, as he knelt down beside them. “Is Miss Duvall ill?”

  “She was perfectly well before,” Cassie answered, frantically waving her hand in front of Antoinette’s face. “Perhaps it was something she ate!”

  “But we all ate the same things. Do you feel ill, Miss Richards?”

  “Not a bit. Oh, Antoinette, do wake up, please!”

  As if in answer to Cassie’s panicked entreaties, Antoinette’s ebony eyes fluttered open, and she glanced quickly about. “Cassie? What has happened?”

  “Thank heaven you are conscious!” Cassie said in great relief. “You fainted.”

  “Did I? How very odd.” She struggled to sit up, with Cassie and Lord Royce’s help. Her turban was askew, and she pressed her palm to her forehead as if in pain. “I would like some water, please, if there is any.”

  “I will just fetch it, then,” said Lord Royce. “Miss Richards, you stay here with Miss Duvall and lower her head to her knees if she feels faint again. I will not be gone long.” Then he hurried off on his errand.

  As soon as he was gone, Antoinette clutched at Cassie’s hand and whispered, “We must come here on Friday night, not the East Tower. I feel that Lady Lettice’s presence is very strong here.”

  “Is that why you fainted?” Cassie whispered back. “You sense something frightening here?”

  Antoinette shook her head slowly. “Not frightening. Just—strong. We must come back here.”

  “Of course we will come back. On Friday. But you mustn’t worry about it now. Are you feeling better?”

  “Oh, yes, quite. I must have just been overwhelmed. Here, help me to stand, and we will wait for Lord Royce outside.”

  “How is Miss Duvall feeling, Miss Richards?”

  Cassie, who was hurrying past the open door of the library with a basin of lavender water in her hands, paused to peer into the dimly lit room. Phillip came to stand in the doorway, his gray gaze inscrutable behind his spectacles.

  “Much better, thank you, Lord Royce,” Cassie answered, thinking how odd it was that he should care. All the men in Jamaica, and even in Bath, had seen Antoinette as nothing but a servant and an oddity. They would never have inquired after her health.

  But Phillip appeared truly concerned.

  “I was just taking this to her,” Cassie added, holding up the basin. “Lavender water is very good for headaches.”

  “Does Miss Duvall care for wine?” he asked. “I have some very nice German wine put away in the cellar. I could send it up to her.”

  “How kind of you!” Cassie said with a smile. “So thoughtful . . .”

  Phillip waved away her thanks with an awkward gesture. “Not at all, Miss Richards. I am only sorry that your day, and Miss Duvall’s, was marred by illness.”

  “Yes. It was such a lovely day.”

  He nodded. “Lovely,” he murmured. Then, looking rather abashed by that one word he had spoken, he backed up into the library. “I will send that wine up to Miss Duvall. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

  “Thank you, Lord Royce.” Cassie went on her way with her basin, thoroughly bemused by the mystifying Lord Royce. It seemed like every day she found that there was much more to him than books and studies and logic.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Don’t they make a charming picture?” Lady Royce said, looking up from her embroidery to smile fondly across the drawing room at her son and Cassandra.

  Antoinette had retired after supper with a lingering headache, but the others had gathered in the drawing room. Phillip and Cassandra were seated together at the pianoforte, attempting a duet. Unfortunately, neither of them was particularly musical, and the discordant plonking noise echoed in the large room.

  Chat winced at an especially strident note, and laid down another card in her game of Patience. “Charming. But do you suppose they could engage in something quiet, like cards? Or reading?”

  “Then we could not admire your niece’s talent at the pianoforte!” Lady Royce protested. “Every young lady should play a musical instrument, do you not agree, Chat?”

  “Almost every young lady,” Chat murmured. She had to agree that Cassie looked very pretty bent over the ivory keys, her dark pink silk skirts spread about her. Chat only hoped that, with all the ghosts floating about the castle, Mozart did not choose to join them, full of wrath at the mangling of his concerto.

  “Miss Richards is a very pretty girl indeed,” Lady Royce continued. “I must confess I had no idea what to expect, since she had spent so long away from England.”

  Chat gave a little smile and laid down another card. “Did you think she would wear grass skirts or some such, Melinda?”

  Lady Royce blushed, ducking her head over her sewing. “Of course not! I just—wasn’t sure.”

  “Yes. Her parents were not precisely conventional, not like my older brother the viscount. I am not sure Cassandra would pass muster with the high sticklers at Almack’s! But she has her own charms.”

  “Oh, assuredly! She is very pretty, as I said. And obviously kindhearted.” Lady Royce gave Chat a sly smile. “Phillip seems to like her a great deal.”

  Chat looked back over at the young couple. They appeared to be quarreling over a piece of sheet music, with Cassie attempting to pull it out of his hands. “Oh, yes,” she said wryly. “You can tell how much they like each other just by looking at them.”

  “She seems just the sort who could make him come out of his library and into the world. He never would have left his books to go on a picnic before Miss Richards came here, let alone agree to a masked ball!” Lady Royce nodded decisively. “Yes, she is very good for him.”

  But would he be good for her, Chat wondered. He did have a title and a tidy fortune. But Cassie had her own fortune and was such a free spirit. Could someone like Lord Royce make her happy?

  Chat’s own comfortable marriage to Lord Willowby, which had lasted twenty harmonious years before his death, made her want nothing less for her niece. A title could not make deep incompatibilities just disappear.

  Still, she had to admit that they did look very handsome together.

  “You are playing it all wrong!” Cassie said, taking the piece of now rather tattered music from Lord Royce’s hand and putting it on the stand. “See these notes here and here? All wrong!”

  “My dear Miss Richards, I am not the one who is tone-deaf,” he muttered.

  Cassie stared at him. “Look at the tin ear calling me tone-deaf! I thought earls were supposed to be gallant, or at the very least polite.”

  “Very well! I am very sorry, Miss Richards. Please forgive me for my rudeness. Why don’t you play the solo part, and I will turn the pages?”

  Cassie looked from him to the music doubtfully. The truth was, she was a bit tone-deaf, and had always detested the music lessons her father made her take. Only polit
eness to Lady Royce, who had asked her to play for them, had made her sit down at the pianoforte. She had not thought Lord Royce would join her there, and now her self-consciousness was making her rather testy.

  She gave him an apologetic little smile and said, “I do not really feel like playing anymore. Perhaps you would favor us with a song, and I will just go and sit down by the fire for a while.”

  “As you wish, Miss Richards,” he answered. “But I really do apologize for what I said. I am sure you are truly a masterful musician.”

  “Apology accepted,” she said with a laugh. “But flattery denied. I am really a horrible musician.”

  “That cannot be true.”

  Oh, but it was true. And what was worse, Cassie found as she went to sit down beside Lady Royce, Lord Royce was quite a competent musician. Not a Mozart, by any means, but tuneful and regular. Only trying to keep up with her had made him play in the wrong key.

  She had to laugh inwardly at herself, for always behaving like such a silly goose around him.

  “Your aunt and I were just talking about what your life must have been like before you came to England, my dear Miss Richards,” Lady Royce said. “How interesting it must have been in Jamaica! And how very different from here.”

  That was certainly undeniable. “It is rather different, yes.”

  “But you did say that your parents gave a great many entertainments. There must have been some society there.”

  “There were the families from the neighboring plantations, like Mr. Bates and his sister, and the Smith-Thompkins, and several people who lived in Negril. They came quite often to our house, and we went into town frequently. After Mother died, Father and I kept to ourselves more, but we still went to card parties and musicales, and even the occasional ball. No, there was no lack of society in Jamaica, Lady Royce.”

  “You must have had a good many suitors, too,” Lady Royce said, pretending great absorption in her embroidery.