Foxing the Geese

by Janet Woods

  ‘He proposed marriage and you turned him down?’ Edwina almost shrieked. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘I just have.’

  ‘Vivienne. I will definitely write to your father and inform him about your odd behaviour … and just when I was feeling so happy. What was it you said about horses; something vulgar, I believe?’

  ‘I said—’

  ‘No, don’t bother repeating it. I heard it well enough to get your meaning, and you the daughter of a cleric. Jesus will be turning in his grave … if he has a grave; I can never remember because somebody said it was empty when he walks abroad. I must ask your father to explain that to me when I next see him. As for you … well, I can only say you should be ashamed of yourself.’

  Rebellion surged through her. ‘Should I? Well, I’m not.’

  Adelaide had collapsed in a heap of giggles. ‘Wait till I tell Freddie what you said about Simon, Vivienne.’

  ‘And in front of the earl, too,’ her aunt said, looking horrified. ‘Adelaide, stop that caterwauling at once. It’s unseemly. What on earth will Lord LéSayres think?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mama, but since he’s sitting next to Vivienne, you can ask him.’

  ‘I declare … your cousin is having a bad influence on you.’ Looking as if she was on the verge of tearing her hair out, her aunt’s attention turned to Alex. ‘Do you have an opinion to offer, My Lord?’

  ‘If I dare voice one, far from being offended, I have to say it’s the most amusing thing I’ve heard this week, and I couldn’t think of a better way to get rid of an unwanted suitor. In fact, I should like to be there to see it.’ Alex’s laughter told them exactly what he thought and they all began to laugh with him.

  Thanks to Alex the day ended on a friendly note.

  After the earl had taken his leave Vivienne went upstairs and entered in her London journal:

  Simon Mortimer – Attorney at law. Handsome. Wealthy. She ticked the positive words off, then reached: Comments: This man is mercenary, persistent and unlikeable. He indicated that he’d be interested in a marriage with me, and I’ve turned him down. He’s thinking of taking bets on whether I have a fortune or not. I understand he’s been making enquiries about me, and he indicated he’d heard rumours about my inheritance through his colleagues. I formed the impression he was fishing, and his conversation seemed designed to trick me into giving him the answer he wanted. Surprisingly, Alex seemed to be attentive to Simon’s sister, Sophia. It was tedious to find myself seething with envy. I must stop acting like a spoiled brat.

  Notes: Alex is taking me shopping tomorrow. I’m going to find the best ball gown in London, to wear for when he escorts me to Almack’s.

  Eleven

  The gown was the prettiest Vivienne had ever seen. The colour of the silk reminded her of Alex’s blue eyes, the diaphanous overskirt slithered smoothly over her figure and the bodice was decorated with small crystals. She’d never worn a gown so low at the front or so wide at the shoulders. Far from being flagrant, the beaded fichu that kept that area secure was also a subtle tease, for it attracted the eye while drawing a curtain over the mystery that lay underneath.

  She wondered if her bosom would escape when she danced. Other women seemed to manage without disaster, including Adelaide, who was fuller of figure than her. A new respect for the art of dressmaking grew in her and she thought it might be fun to dress up now she could afford the best fabrics and designs.

  Maria, who’d recommended this establishment in Piccadilly, had told her the trick was to make sure the drawstrings in her stays were tight enough to contain her and keep control.

  She turned her back to the mirror, inspecting the gathers where they joined the bodice to allow the skirt ease of movement. She said to the assistant, ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘And it fits you perfectly. We must measure the length before we turn the hem up.’

  There were accessories, dancing slippers created in the same material, a feathered headband and a small bag covered in crystals.

  ‘I know I’m not giving you much time, but can you have it finished and delivered to me on Wednesday?’ If she were not at home her aunt would pay what was owed from the amount she had given her towards her daily expenses. As usual the accounts would be reconciled at the end of the season.

  ‘Certainly, Miss Fox. If you stand on the podium I’ll mark the length. It won’t take long to hem it.’

  Half-an-hour later she paid a deposit and gave instructions of where to deliver the gown. Her father would likely have a mild conniption when he learned how much she’d spent on one ballgown, and she smiled. She doubted he’d ever get used to her spending money at all without careful consideration, even though he’d indicated he’d be quite happy for her to spend what she wished.

  She joined Alex, who was inspecting books on a stall across the street. ‘I’m sorry I took so long, Alex. You could have waited in the antechamber, where there’s a chair or two for superfluous men.’

  He smiled. ‘I did for a short while, but I’m not used to being superfluous. Women kept smiling at me. I felt rather … noticeable. Women have a way of examining you without it being obvious.’

  ‘That’s what you get for offering to take a female shopping. I must admit that males seem more comfortable when they’re in herds.’

  He laughed. ‘That’s not a bad observation. You were quicker than I thought you’d be. The last time I took a woman shopping it took her an hour to buy a hat that was little more than a couple of large feathers sewed to a pleated satin object that resembled half a pumpkin. I never saw her wear it.’

  A hole appeared where her heart should be. ‘What woman was that?’

  ‘My stepmother. You’d like her, I think. She raised me and my brother and we both adore her.’

  Relief was a swift rush. If she wanted this man – and she did – she’d have to set her cap at him, she thought. Wednesday would be a good time to tell him of her fortune … to tell him of her warm feelings towards him … to propose, if she could summon up the nerve. Saying she would was one thing, actually doing it was another. Just thinking about it brought a surge of butterflies into her stomach.

  She slid her arm through his. ‘I haven’t got to be back yet. Shall we stroll in the park a little and I’ll buy us something to eat?’

  They ate some hot muffins and bought a large apple to share, then sat on the grass to watch a Punch and Judy show.

  Alex polished the apple to a soft ruby glow on the sleeve of his coat. She imagined him doing the same as a small child, sharing it with his younger brother. ‘We have a tree at King’s Acres that produces apples just like this,’ he said, an ocean of wistful longing in his voice.

  ‘You miss being there, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I do … I like having the countryside outside my door, and the bounty nature brings with it.’ He twisted the buffed apple, and it snapped into two even halves. He handed her one. The juice was sharp and cleansing against her tongue when she bit into it.

  They wandered through the various stalls, set up by opportunists trying to make a living. That the stallholders were chased off now and again didn’t seem to bother them, for they sprung up again like mushrooms an hour later, with plenty of clients lining up to buy their wares. Alex bought her a gift from a trinket stall, a silver brooch shaped like a star. It was not new but it sparkled with faceted garnets, peridots and amethysts, all set around a centre moonstone.

  ‘I wish they were diamonds,’ he said, pinning the brooch to the collar of her pelisse.

  His fingertips were a cool but sweet caress against the skin on her neck. She gazed up at him, her heart aching. ‘The value is in the giving, and I shall treasure it.’

  ‘I know you will.’ The parkland surrounding them became a muffled kaleidoscope of noise, bustle and colour while the space between them enclosed the beat of a hundred drums to replace the heartbeats. It was a warm day … indeed the whole of summer had been warm.

  ‘Were we alone I’d reque
st a kiss as a thank you,’ he murmured, and then grinned. ‘Or perhaps I’d just help myself to one.’

  She took a step back, reminding herself how public they were. ‘If you will allow it I’ll owe you one. Tell me, is it your intention to seduce me, Alex?’

  His eyes widened a fraction and he laughed. ‘How honest do you want me to be, woman? It crosses my mind from time to time. Your lack of guile is attractive, and I’m drawn to you physically … you must have sensed it else you wouldn’t be asking. However, it would be wrong of me to take advantage of you without clear intention, which isn’t to say I wouldn’t if circumstance allowed. After all, I’m only a man.’

  A warm glow ran through her and she gave a shaky little laugh. ‘I don’t know much about men. I just know I feel comfortable with you, and … safe.’

  ‘Safe?’ Laughter huffed from him, and it was threaded with disbelief. ‘That statement is a coup de grâce on a relationship if ever I heard one. I shall have to try harder.’ He ran a finger down her nose, saying regretfully, ‘I must get you home otherwise you’ll miss the Baron’s visit and that will upset your aunt.’

  ‘Yes it would. Are you able to stay for the event?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. Besides … I’m of the belief that a man should do his proposing in private. I’ve accepted another invitation for this evening – Charles Cresswell is an acquaintance of mine from university, and he has asked me to join his family party at the theatre. Please pass on my congratulations should the event go as planned.’

  ‘You sound doubtful. Have you heard anything to the contrary … it’s not one of Freddie’s inane japes, is it? I’d hate for Adelaide to be disappointed … she’d be heartbroken. You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. I just thought it came about rather quickly, but then I’m not used to the swift London ways of courtship.’

  ‘You sound disillusioned by it.’

  He shrugged, said tersely, ‘Of course I am. You can’t fairly judge a man or woman by their looks, their pedigree or their wealth. Being part of it has shifted my comfortable perspective somewhat. I’m trying to reconcile myself with the thought of taking a stranger home as my wife and pretending to love her, all the while relieving her of her wealth. It strikes me as being hypocritical and shallow.’

  ‘Then why did you bother to become part of it? There’s more to it than you describe. There is fun and dancing and the theatre and socializing. If you hate it so much, go home and marry the farmer’s daughter.’

  ‘He hasn’t got one.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Remind me not to argue with you again. I forgot you’re as without means as I am. We can only scratch in the ashes and hope we turn up a gem for ourselves.’

  Her heart softened. ‘Let’s not argue, Alex. We can at least agree that we’re better off than many.’

  ‘Yes, we can do that. It’s just a pity that someone as young and beautiful as Adelaide is so desperate to become a chattel to a man who is almost a stranger.’

  ‘I must correct you on that. Adelaide has known Frederick since she came out, three years ago,’ she said. ‘It’s not the first time he’s shown more than a passing interest in her, but Aunt Edwina thought Adelaide could do better. Frederick appears to be frivolous, but he is good-natured and constant. He has waited all this time for Adelaide, and now has a title to commend him to Aunt Edwina. Believe it or not, he does have a brain as well as family honour.’

  ‘I stand corrected.’

  ‘And what of you when you find a woman to fit your purpose … one you care for? Will you say it’s too soon, or regard her as your chattel, when she will bring you so much in the way of fortune, children and affection? Remember, you only have a month or so to achieve your purpose here in London.’

  He stabbed the point of his stick into the grass. ‘Like most men I will do what society expects of me when the time comes. I don’t obey another’s rules blindly. Neither do you, otherwise you’d be planning your step up in the world … marriage to Lord Statham for title and fortune, or to the wealthy Simon Mortimer, whose character is motivated by greed which he hides under a thin veneer of gentlemanly behaviour, or so I’m reliably informed.’

  ‘No information can be claimed as reliable during the London season.’

  ‘Then you should not be taking me to task about my imagined shortcomings and should be able to understand why I must put my estate before my own happiness.’

  She sighed. ‘I confess, I do not understand men. It is you who is doing that. You cannot blame me because I didn’t invent the season, and you are a free agent.’

  He shrugged, visibly nettled. ‘To answer your question, whether I wed for fortune, pedigree or both … or for neither of those desirable elements … the woman I choose will never be regarded as a chattel and will be treated with the utmost respect and affection. First, because she is a woman; second, because she will be my wife; and third, because I value the LéSayres name and will put her above all others.’

  ‘Then you’d better choose carefully to find one who suits your exacting requirements.’

  He now looked uncomfortable, eager to be rid of her. Vivienne wanted to cry so badly that a lump formed in her throat, one she almost choked on. She shouldn’t have been so outspoken. ‘I do understand … I’m sorry I was disrespectful … I’m ashamed,’ she said, and began to walk rapidly away from him.

  He caught up to her, taking her by the hand to still her flight. Gently he turned her round and gazed at her. The depths of his eyes displayed a small, dark kernel of hurt – one she’d inflicted by her abrupt departure. ‘I was enjoying our time together alone. What has happened between us to change our friendship?’

  What had happened? Love! Cupid had fired his damned stupid arrow right into her heart. Couldn’t he see she was head-over-heels in love with him? She couldn’t even think straight when she was with him.

  Her emotions churned. She’d goaded him, blamed him for all that was male, when of course she was aware of what the London season was all about.

  A solitary tear slid down her cheek and he collected it on his finger. ‘I’ve made you cry … forgive me.’

  ‘Forgive you for what?’

  ‘Being a man, perhaps?’

  Laughter trickled from her and she hiccupped. ‘Next to my father you’re the nicest man I know … did I sound like a shrew?’

  ‘The shrews that live on King’s Acres estate are sweet, quiet little creatures, but they bite if they’re cornered. Does that sound like you?’

  She gave a cautious, ‘Well … possibly.’

  He laughed. ‘Then you’ve answered your own question. I’m quite sure that the shrews living there would adore you.’

  ‘You don’t have to humour me,’ she grumbled.

  Gruffly, he answered, ‘Not another word, Vivienne Fox, else I’ll throw you over my knee and smack your backside.’

  She gave an outraged gasp and placed her hands on her rear. ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘Try me.’

  She flicked him a look and caught the fading moment of his wry grin.

  ‘Here, take my arm and I’ll escort you home. Perhaps I’ll stay for an hour to observe any hopefuls who may call on you. You see, I’m learning to play the game.’

  In the next few minutes she contemplated the punishment of her behind being smacked. How absolutely embarrassing … well, in public at least. He had big hands. What if she smacked his behind, how would he like it?

  She stifled her laughter. He’d probably enjoy it.

  Stop having disgusting thoughts, Miss Fox.

  Easier said than done since my mind has developed a mind of its own.

  Very droll!

  She grimaced and said nothing for the next five minutes. When they turned a corner into her street she saw several carriages lined up outside the house. Feeling safer she looked up at him. ‘You didn’t really mean that, did you? What happened to your utmost respect fo
r women?’

  He slid her a grin. ‘You pushed it to its limit.’

  Alex stayed at the house long enough to be polite and then stood to leave, citing a business meeting and his theatre invitation as an excuse.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ she said, hoping they’d find a private moment where she could offer him the kiss she owed him.

  To her disappointment they almost collided with Simon Mortimer, who was coming in.

  ‘Good day, My Lord. I hear you’re part of Lord Cresswell’s party tonight.’

  ‘Yes. We studied at university together, so I’m eager to resume my friendship with him.’

  ‘Sophia is also a guest of the earl and his sisters. She’s looking forward to seeing you again.’

  The corner of Alex’s mouth twitched and Vivienne wondered why he hadn’t told her there would be eligible women in the theatre party. But then, she didn’t own him and it was none of her business. All the same there was a yawning sense of despair inside her. She’d heard that if you really loved someone you’d put their happiness before your own. So was it selfish of her to want to keep Alex for herself?

  He’d already made his thoughts on Sophia Mortimer clear … but Lord Cresswell’s sisters? Goodness … one was sixteen and the other seventeen, and they were reputed to be so superior, eligible and delightful that Alex was bound to fall in love with one … or even both of them.

  If Alex was surprised by the news that he’d be in the company of Sophia Mortimer, he didn’t show it. He just turned to her and smiled. ‘Thank you for your company today, Miss Fox. It was most enjoyable … and illuminating too. I look forward to the dance on Wednesday.’

  She gently touched a fingertip against the brooch, thinking, traitor! ‘I hope you enjoy the opera, My Lord. I believe the heroine perishes.’

  ‘I’m sure I shall, and in true heroine fashion, no doubt she will be resurrected in time for her next performance.’ He placed his hat on his head and nodded to Matthew, who opened the door for him as he strode off.