Passion's Song (A Georgian Historical Romance)

by Carolyn Jewel

  Isobel was sitting down when she saw Lord Hartforde coming toward her. “No, Lord Strathemoore,” she was saying, “it would be positively wicked to dance with you yet again. Besides, I promised this one to someone else.” James was laughing as she put a finger to her lips and wrinkled her brow. “If only I could remember who it was!” He frowned when he saw the light that came into her eyes when she caught sight of Hartforde.

  “I believe ‘twas I.” He bowed and extended his hand to Isobel.

  “Why, Lord Hartforde, I thought you had gone!” She took his hand and suppressed a tremble as he placed his hand around her waist and swept her out among the dancers.

  “How could I leave when you had promised this dance to me?”

  She thought she heard a faintly mocking tone in his voice. “My, your gallantry quite overcomes me,” she said dryly. Why, she wondered, did his hand over hers have to be so warm? His lips curved into a smile at her words and Isobel felt herself blushing.

  “I do seem to have that effect on you,” he remarked, taking in her flush and, mistaking its cause, increasing the pressure of his hand against her back when the opportunity arose. He had thought her beautiful before, but tonight she was disturbingly so.

  “I believe you overestimate your appeal, Lord Hartforde,” she said curtly. “Not every woman in this room is dying to find herself in your arms.”

  In spite of his prior experience with her candor, he was taken aback. “Just most of them,” he teased.

  “You’re nothing but an arrogant…arrogant…” She stuttered with indignation, unable to think of a suitable word to put an end to his mocking.

  “Rake?” he supplied. “It makes life so much more pleasant.” His eyebrows arched at her outraged expression.

  “It is unbecoming of a gentleman, especially one such as yourself, my lord, to think himself the object of every woman’s desire,” she sniffed primly.

  “But am I the object of yours?” He leaned closer and he suddenly found himself intrigued by the soft pout of her tips and the flush coloring her cheeks. For a brief moment, he let himself imagine what it would be like to kiss those curving tips, and there was a disturbing sensation in his belly.

  “What a loathsome thing to say!” She would have pulled away from him if he had not held tightly onto her hand. “I shall cause a scene if you do not let go of me, sir,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “My dear Miss St. James, I apologize if I have offended you.” He knew full well it was an outrageous thing to say to any young woman, and he was at a loss to explain just why it was that he found himself deliberately provoking her.

  “You most certainly have offended me!”

  “Forgive me, I was not aware you were unused to gallantry.” Her eyes looked almost purple, they were so dark. He shook himself, annoyed that he had even noticed such a thing.

  “Sir”—Isobel was furious now—“if you had told me I am the loveliest creature on the face of this earth, that would be gallantry. Asking me if you are the object of my desire is rudeness in the extreme! And I shall not tell you even if you were. Which you aren’t!” she added.

  “I am put firmly in my place.” He inclined his head and attempted to look regretful. He let a few moments pass and then smiled wickedly. “Ah, Miss St. James.” He sighed. “You are the loveliest creature on the face of this earth.”

  “And you, sir, are certainly the rudest!” The dance ended and she walked away from him, his laughter ringing in her ears. She looked quickly around and when she saw Julia talking to Lord Burke, she made her way to them. Lord Burke made an elegant bow when she approached and Julia took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Why, Isobel! Lord Burke and I were just talking about you!”

  “Miss St. James”—Lord Burke nodded—“I was just praising your beauty to Lady Julia.”

  “You flatter me,” she said. She glanced around the room and when she saw Lord Hartforde staring at her she lifted her eyebrows at him in an expression of disdain. She colored when she saw him laughing at her and she steadfastly refused to look his way again.

  III

  Isobel awoke the next morning and quickly shut her eyes against the faint light penetrating the curtains. She had no immediate inclination to leave her warm bed, so she pulled the covers up to her chin and drifted back to a semi-sleep, remembering every dreamy detail of the previous night: the way men had crowded around her, anxious to dance with her, how they had begged first for the privilege of walking with her to the punch bowl, and then for the honor of handing her a glass. She could see herself dancing. The refrains echoed in her mind as she was gavotted and pavaned and minueted nigh on to exhaustion. It was no wonder she had eventually needed a rest! The scene she had witnessed while sitting on the stairs…Lord Hartforde kissing…in her dreaming mind it wasn’t Angelica he held so closely. The woman in his arms was blond and she was having trouble getting her breath. There was an aching, fluttering feeling that burst into a longing for…she didn’t know what.

  Her eyes opened and she sat up, angrily ringing for Bridget. Even the thought of letting that man kiss her was humiliating! Why, he was nothing but an arrogant rake! His behavior toward her the past evening had bordered on the rude, and if he hoped she was going to make a fool of herself over a common rake, he had best think again! Further expostulating over Lord Hartforde was interrupted by Bridget’s coming in and opening the curtains.

  When she came downstairs at last, her father was waiting for her. He reached to fill her cup with coffee when she sat down and then leaned back in his chair, looking pleased with himself.

  “What is it, Father?” she asked, wondering at his being in such a happy mood.

  “Were I to judge only by our drawing room, my dear, you were quite a success last night.”

  Isobel put down her delicate china cup. “What do you mean?”

  “We are virtually inundated with flowers and various fancy gewgaws!”

  “We, Father?” She cocked her head at him.

  “Go look for yourself!” He followed her to the drawing room and stood in the doorway while she looked through the cards piled on a tray at one end of the table.

  “Small reward for my sore feet!” she commented, pleased to hear him laugh. She opened a note that accompanied a bouquet of tulips. She could barely recall the earl who had sent them. “But what am I to do with all this?” She gestured at the flowers covering the table.

  “You will have to acknowledge them. Of course, you must return jewelry or anything else of value.”

  “But it will take all day! This is ridiculous.” She picked up a box of chocolates, then let them fall back on the table with a thump. She reached for the card with a huge vase of fragrant blood-red roses. They were from Lord Strathemoore.

  “Do you continue to think I shall have trouble finding a husband for you?” He paused. “I have received no fewer than five offers for you just this morning.”

  Isobel turned to him. “Will I have any choice in the matter, Father?”

  “As long as I approve. As long as I approve,” he said slowly.

  “Only Hobson’s choice, then?” She hid a bitter smile by bending her head to the roses Lord Strathemoore had sent. Had Lord Hartforde sent her roses? she wondered.

  Chapter 11

  I

  One of Lady Julia’s passions was going to the Haymarket to see the Italian opera, and after she had persuaded Isobel to accompany her once, they became regular visitors on Tuesday nights. Lord Burke frequently escorted them, and even when he did not, he could always be counted on to arrive before the last act to join them for coffee afterward. When Isobel hinted that he might be in love with Julia, she only laughed and professed not to care more for one man than she did for any other. Still, when he did not accompany them to the theater, Julia seemed distracted until he arrived

  One Tuesday night Julia and Isobel were escorted to the Haymarket by Lord Hartforde, who was making a rare appearance at the opera. This was one evening when Isobel
could not attend to the singing onstage. All three of them were out of sorts, and trouble had started in the carriage. Julia was put out because Lord Burke was absent. Isobel was trying to pretend Lord Hartforde’s presence did not unnerve her in the least. She was sitting quietly with her hands folded in her lap staring out the carriage window, from which she could see absolutely nothing, while she listened to Julia and her brother chatting. Lord Hartforde seemed put out at Isobel’s presence. He had greeted her coldly and proceeded to act as though she was not there. She was, therefore, startled when he spoke to her.

  “Has our conversation bored you, Miss St. James?” he inquired in a voice of gallingly false concern.

  “Certainly not, my lord.” She hoped she succeeded in sounding surprised at the thought of being bored by any word chancing to fall from his lips.

  “I think, then, you must have been reciting one of the classics to yourself, you are so quiet.”

  “Gallia est omnis …” she intoned, making a wry face at him.

  “And have you the idea to conquer Gaul?” he asked. “You’ve come to the wrong country for that!”

  “No, sir, I shall be happy enough with just a small part of London, I think.”

  Julia laughed and pretended not to notice the glare Isobel sent her brother’s way.

  They took their seats in the box engaged for the season at a cost of fifty guineas, and Lord Hartforde, sitting some three seats away from Isobel, began stirring restlessly and tapping his fingers on the arm of his chair. Isobel was tempted to tell him to go away if he could not bear to let others enjoy the singing. Instead, she contented herself with a stern frown in his direction. His look in return was one of innocence, but the tapping did not begin again until some quarter of an hour later during an aria she particularly wanted to hear. She finally screwed up enough courage to lean over and briefly cover his hand. He stopped, but thereafter she was unable to think of anything but how warm his hand had felt.

  During the first intermission they were joined by Lord Allryn, an anemic young man who seemed delighted to find Julia without Lord Burke in attendance.

  He sat next to her and earnestly engaged her in conversation. Just before the end of the intermission, Lord Burke stepped into the box.

  “Good evening,” he greeted Isobel and Lord Hartforde before turning to Julia, who very coldly said how surprised she was he had been able to tear himself away from his engagement and then turned back to Lord Allryn as though she could not bear to miss anything he might say.

  The second act started and for all of five minutes the box was quiet. Then Lord Hartforde started his fidgeting again and Lord Allryn kept up a constant sibilant chatter. Isobel could hardly follow the performance because of all the whispering and finger-tapping going on in the box. Lord Hartforde smiled when she propped her elbows up on the railing and leaned forward in an attempt to follow the music. She would have covered his hand again, but he was tapping—deliberately, she surmised, from the grin he gave her when she glared at him, with the hand farthest from her.

  The second act ended and Lord Allryn, clearing his throat, said, “My dears, it occurs to me Easter is almost upon us! I go to Bath at Easter, you know. It is becoming an annual pilgrimage for me.” He leaned back in his chair and fingered a button on his coat. “I expect that during the fortnight I shall be there, my health shall be vastly improved. I took physic for a certain complaint of mine.” He coughed behind his hand. “I suffer so, you understand, that at last the doctor quite insisted I should go to Bath.” Just as he was getting into his stride, he was interrupted by Lord Hartforde, who rose and excused himself to the company. “Hartforde, my good man,” Lord Allryn called out before he could leave, “you ought to go to Bath yourself. One’s health is such a delicate thing. And if I may be so bold, I might ask you to bring your vastly lovely sister with you, and of course”—he looked at Isobel—“if you can persuade the vastly lovely Miss St. James to come as well, Bath will be the pleasantest spot in all England.” Proud of his gallantry, he looked to see if Julia was impressed.

  “I am afraid, Lord Allryn, that my sister makes her own schedule, and as for Miss St. James, I have no influence with her at all. If you will excuse me.” He nodded and left the box.

  After Alexander was gone, Lord Burke did his best to divert Julia’s attention from Lord Allryn, but his reserve of manner and good breeding prevented him from having any success. He sighed and, except for a single glance at Isobel, kept his gaze steadily fixed on Julia. Lord Allryn, not being completely obtuse, perceived he had Julia’s undivided attention and proceeded to take full advantage of it by relating to her in particular detail the diet recommended him by his physic. His fervent recitation of the condition of his stomach was brought to a halt by Lord Hartforde’s return—this time with Mrs. Vincent on his arm. The brief silence ended when Allryn turned to Mrs. Vincent and began telling her about the shocking consequences of inattention to diet.

  There was no finger-tapping during the last act.

  When the final scene was over, Isobel leaned over to Lord Hartforde and whispered, “Really, sir, you might have found a more private place for your assignation!”

  She felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder and his breath in her ear. “The idea, I do confess, was not mine, but if I have succeeded in annoying you, Miss St. James, my happiness is complete.”

  When she turned to scowl at him, he was engrossed in kissing Mrs. Vincent’s hand.

  At Mrs. Vincent’s urging, the whole party went to take coffee. Though she tried to avoid it, Isobel ended by sitting between Lord Hartforde and Lord Allryn, who turned his attention to her once he saw Lord Burke had usurped Lady Julia. They were soon joined by Lord Strathemoore, who took the seat closest to Isobel and struggled unsuccessfully to divert her attention from Allryn. Mrs. Vincent saw how frequently Lord Hartforde’s eyes fell on Isobel, and her plump lips turned down in displeasure.

  “My lord”—she put a hand on Alexander’s arm and gave him a weak smile—“I do not feel at all well. May I impose upon you to drive me home?”

  “Of course, madam,” he said, almost instantly erasing the wrinkle of annoyance that appeared on his forehead. “If you will excuse me,” he said to the company as he rose and extended his hand to Mrs. Vincent. “I trust I am leaving my sister and Miss St. James in good company.” He nodded at Julia and, as he bent over Isobel’s hand, murmured, “I leave you, then, with some small part of London yet to be conquered.”

  “I shall be happy only if that part includes yourself!” Isobel retorted, chagrined that he had so easily divined her feelings and did not care to spare them one iota.

  II

  After the night when Lord Hartforde had so clearly demonstrated his disdain for her, Isobel swore to herself she would give up thinking about him. To that end she decided she would take more interest in other men than she had in the past.

  One exceedingly fine morning she let herself be persuaded to go to Hyde Park with Julia. They had just joined the line of carriages when Isobel saw Lord Burke and Lord Strathemoore waving to them. From Burke’s expression of relief, Isobel suspected he had been looking for them. She leaned forward and instructed the driver to slow down. When the two men reached them they exchanged idle banter for a few minutes before Lord Burke finally mentioned he had tickets to a masquerade. “I should be honored if you two ladies would accompany me.” He looked at Julia with such sheep’s eyes that Isobel had to glance away so he would not see her smile.

  “Oh,” said Julia, sounding terribly disappointed, “my lord, at another time we should have been delighted, but Miss St. James and myself are engaged for the next fortnight!” Lord Burke’s hopeful smile faded. She turned to Isobel. “Lord Allryn’s invitation was so kind, do you not agree, Miss St. James?”

  “Indeed, Lady Julia, vastly so,” answered a startled Isobel.

  “And really”—Julia looked back at Lord Burke—“as I said to Allryn, I do not want to wait until Easter for Miss St. James to see Bath.”


  Lord Burke, who was trying not to look crestfallen, wished them a safe journey and a pleasant visit, then begged their leave to go.

  “You don’t really mean to go to Bath, do you?” Isobel asked when the two men had left them.

  “Of course not!”

  “Well, don’t you think Lord Burke will notice when we are still in London during the next fortnight?”

  “Have you ever been to Sussex?” she answered. “We have an estate near Ashdown Forest, and I find I have a sudden hankering to visit it.”

  As it happened, Lord Burke proposed to Julia the day before they were to leave for Sussex, but Julia declared that she was not at all certain she ought to accept him. She thought him too somber and not nearly romantic enough for her. She assured Isobel that their trip to Sussex was more necessary than ever in order that she might determine without distraction what she ought to tell Lord Burke. And, anyway, she had no intention of accepting a man the first time he asked.

  Chapter 12

  I

  Ashdown Grey sat impressively at the top of a slight incline about five miles from the closest village. The long approach was lined with chestnut trees up to the iron gates, where the road curved around immaculately kept lawns. Rolling fields of green spread out on three sides, and on the fourth the edges of Ashdown Forest made a smudge on the horizon. The house itself was a huge stone building. The original central portion had been built during the time of Elizabeth, but the rest of the house was intricately ornamented with balusters, pilasters, and other fancy stonework. There were two brick side wings that had been added under the Hanovers. The effect was not at all displeasing, if somewhat eccentric.

  The interior of the house lived up to the promise of its facade. The massive oak doors swung open into a large marble-floored hallway, with gilt arches curving up into high, frescoed ceilings.

  “Is there a music room here?” Isobel asked as they followed a footman up the stairs.