Surrender to Love

by Rosemary Rogers

  As Alexa took yet another turn about the room Lady Margery said mildly: “I am sure it wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience for you, my dear, but you must get used to the thought that more than likely you will start to run into them everywhere, especially after the Sutherlands’ ball, where you will meet everybody, including the Queen and Prince Albert. There is no use in making yourself upset, you know. I’m sure we could think of better ways in which to occupy your time, such as a visit to the theater at Drury Lane if you care for Shakespeare or the Royal Opera House in the Haymarket, although I am afraid that area is rapidly becoming quite notorious!”

  Had it been those innocently uttered words of Lady Margery’s that had spurred her into an act of foolish defiance that might well cost her her entrée into polite society? Or was it merely a sense of boredom and her impatient nature combined that prompted Alexa to embark the very next day on a venture that both her new friends would have strongly disapproved of, had they only known of it?

  In the end it had not been at all easy to accomplish her plan, which involved not only her faithful Bridget’s unquestioning aid but a ride on one of the famous omnibuses every visitor to London talked about. In fact, since it had recently become quite fashionable, if a trifle “Bohemian,” for almost everyone to be able to talk to their friends about having taken a ride on an omnibus, Alexa was provided with her excuse for leaving her house on foot with a drab brown pelisse that belonged to Bridget disguising her afternoon dress of dark green damasked cotton trimmed with bronze lace and green velvet ribbon; and wearing a bonnet that looked remarkably plain once she had ruthlessly cut off all of its expensive trimmings.

  Although no longer easily shocked by any of her mistress’s impulsive whims to do something quite out of the ordinary, even Bridget was driven to protest once they had been dropped off not far from the Haymarket and Alexa, acting as bold as brass, had actually hailed a hansom cab as if she was quite used to doing so. And when the driver had given them a very peculiar look upon being informed of the address he was to take them to, before venturing to suggest that perhaps they could have been given the wrong directions and would never want to go there—not two respectable-looking young women, surely—by then Bridget felt like wringing her hands fearfully, especially when Alexa said in her firm, crisp voice that she did indeed have the right address and would be pleased to be taken there as soon as possible.

  “Please, ma’am, don’t you think we should go back now? It certainly doesn’t look like a very nice neighborhood for you to be in, and the way that man started looking us over really funny like...”

  “Well, he stopped grumbling when he saw his tip, didn’t he?” Alexa said in the same crisp voice she’d used before, adding almost consolingly when she saw Bridget’s wan expression, “You have to admit it looks like quite a nice, smartly kept-up house from outside here, doesn’t it? And for heaven’s sake do try to stop looking like a lamb on its way to the slaughter house! We shall both be perfectly safe, I assure you!” Ignoring a few curious loafers who stared too boldly, Alexa used the heavy brass knocker with force and was soon rewarded by the sound of footsteps just before the door was opened by an impassive looking butler, of all things!

  “May I help you young ladies?” he said inquiringly, still standing there in the doorway until forced to move back when Alexa picked up her skirts and walked inside, with the timorous Bridget all but clinging to the back of her pelisse.

  “Please be good enough to close the door behind us immediately,” Alexa said composedly. “And then you may tell Madame Olivier that her niece is calling upon her. I am her sister Victorine’s daughter, in case she might have forgotten.”

  “It’s a good thing that you seem to have taken more after me than after your poor mother,” Solange said frankly later when they were comfortably ensconced in her elegantly decorated parlor. “But if you had taken after her you wouldn’t be here, would you?” She chuckled richly as her hazel eyes continued to appraise this unexpected visitor of hers. Her niece, by God, and a good-looking little piece she’d turned out to be too! “You’ve got brass, haven’t you, for all that you look like a fashionable lady and speak like one. It’s really almost a pity that you aren’t what I took you for at first, you know! You’d have gone far, my dear, although it can’t compare to how much further you can go now as a rich widow. Ah, how much I’m going to enjoy thinking of it from now on!” The rich contralto chuckle rang out again as Solange leaned forward to pour more champagne into Alexa’s glass before refilling her own and glancing up quizzically. “I suppose, since you have met my friend Orlanda, that you know everything?”

  “Almost everything,” Alexa said, and frowned slightly.

  “There were some things, she told me, that would be better explained by you. That is, of course, if it will not upset you to have the past dredged up.”

  “Ah, the past should remain the past, yes? If I was blind and a fool at one time, then I have only myself to blame for what I allowed to be done. You understand? Ah yes, I hate him! And hate that evil mother of his even more. But, again, it was I who made myself a victim by putting myself in their way; and one learns to be practical as one gets older. After I came back from Europe, having learned many more lessons while I was there, why, my dear, they were generous enough to help set me up in my present establishment once they were sure I had learned my lesson well. They are a strange family, you should be warned. The old witch is the worst and the most dangerous opponent of all, but the men—it is they you should be most guarded against, because they are all charming, and women usually find them quite fascinating. But they are just as evil and as twisted inside as she is. Be careful if one of them should seem to pursue you—never trust them! Me, I know all their secrets and the kind of amusements they enjoy in my establishment here, as well as in the other houses I run that cater to certain specialized perversions.” After a glance at Alexa’s face to discover if her expression had changed, Solange shrugged and shook her head, with its dyed chestnut curls, before awarding her niece an almost grudging smile. “What a welcome surprise you have turned out to be. Especially since I have not been able to shock you yet. And now I think it is for you to tell me what I can do to help you, although I’m sure you understand by now that I can do nothing and say nothing openly. Also, you should be very careful indeed if you plan to visit me again—particularly after they’ve learned who you are.”

  “Perhaps you can help me with your suggestions? For I would like very much to come back and see you as often as I can—without their knowing that we have found each other, naturally.”

  “Oui, naturellement!” Solange affirmed and burst out laughing again at the drollness of it all. Perhaps she would finally have the revenge she had dreamed of for so many years. She emptied her fourth (or was it the fifth?) glass of champagne and rang for more, remembering how it had been when Gavin Dameron, Marquess of Newbury, and her brother-in-law, had grown weary of her throwing herself at him and had taken her as his mistress. Taken her to the little private villa he kept in St. John’s Wood, with its stone wall around it for privacy and its pretty garden with a small pond and a fountain and even a sundial with a verse on it. Inside, the villa had been even prettier, and she had thought herself in heaven when he first took her there. Ah, bon Dieu, how passionately, how insanely she had loved him then! Enough to do anything he asked of her, be anything he wanted her to be for him, go to any lengths to please him. What an imbecile!

  “I let myself become his slave, you see. No, not even that. I was his thing. Ah yes, I can see that you wonder how such a thing could happen to a woman as worldly-wise as I was even then—and why! But that must be because you have never believed yourself in love, my dear, and you should pray that such a foolishness will never happen with, you!”

  “If it is too painful for you...” Alexa began awkwardly, but her aunt brushed aside her words almost scornfully.

  “Why should it be painful now? It has been over a long time, and I am free from that obsess
ion that possessed even my soul for a time.” After she had taken another sip of champagne Solange said: “It was after the time he spent in that Turkish prison that he changed. My sister never knew him the way I did later. He was a charming, rather reckless boy when they decided it would be a great adventure to get secretly married—he and my sister Victorine. He had plans to be a poet, like his idol Lord Byron. But when he came back—he was even more handsome in a harder way that made him seem all the more attractive to me, and that was all I saw at first. Later, when he would talk in his sleep sometimes and twist and turn and scream out loud with his nightmares, I began to guess what they had done to him.” Solange laughed, but it was a bitter sound with none of the earlier richness in it. “It was because of that, I suppose, that he did what he did with me— and does with the other women he keeps or buys for a night. You look horrified, my dear! I have learned since then that such things are quite common; and there are many other perversions men indulge in which are much worse. You may see for yourself, if you think your stomach is strong enough!”

  For days afterwards Alexa herself had nightmares from which she would wake to find her body streaming with perspiration. Her father! Impossible to reconcile that earlier description of a laughing, golden young man who was an idealist and a poet with the cold, dissipated rake who found his real pleasure in inflicting pain and degradation on others. Although Orlanda had hinted, her aunt Solange had held nothing back from her, not even the very worst details.

  “Here, unhook my gown for me,” Solange had said abruptly, standing up. “You’ll soon discover why I can never wear a gown that exposes my back. And I used to have a very pretty back—all my lovers said so, even he— before he gave me those ugly scars you see. I suppose it is fortunate for me that there are certain men who find even scars an excitement!”

  Was this a part of what her dear Sir John had wanted her to learn early enough so that she could better protect herself? And were all men ugly and twisted and perverse behind their polite manners and charming smiles? Remembering against her will one particular smile that had never been meant to charm her at least, Alexa could not prevent herself from shuddering when she thought of how close she had come to succumbing to that frightening physical chemistry that her aunt had called obsession. But from now on, having been warned, she would take care to stay away from that particular Dameron at least. She had even made a point of finding out that he was away from London buying horses in the country and had informed nobody when he might return; which while being typically inconsiderate on his part, certainly made her plans easier to carry out. In fact, even now, as she admired the stylish cut of her new riding habit in the unusual shade known as “London smoke,” Alexa hoped quite fervently that his horse-buying would keep him busy for the next few weeks. With a last glance at the mirror to make sure that her black silk hat with the chiffon veil that had been modelled after a man’s top hat was still set on her head at exactly the right angle, Alexa ran downstairs to find her patient friend and tell her she was ready at last to go riding in the park for the first time.

  Chapter 31

  “They say that she has her riding habits designed and tailored by Stultz himself. And the hats she wears with them are from Lock’s, of course—boots from Medwin’s. Recognize their touch anywhere.”

  “But those are gentlemen’s establishments!”

  “What’s the difference, my dear? All the ladies will be going there now for their new riding habits, I suppose. Barlow was complaining his wife and daughters have already ordered everything new.”

  “I had it from the Countess herself that she has ordered most of her new gowns for the season from Mrs. Bell of Cleveland Row. And I had been wondering why she was always too busy of late.”

  “ I have heard that she actually owns a house in Belgrave Square, next to Lord and Lady Morecambe’s. Do you think we ought to leave cards? After all, if dear Lady Margery is vouching for her...”

  “Some rich nabob’s widow is what I heard, old boy. No trade involved, though. Husband had a title and all that—very old family, I understand. But she’s worth a fortune, I’m told.”

  “Dammit! Join the fortune hunters myself if I was younger! Fine horsewoman—good seat too. Showed up even our incomparable Miss Skittles on the Row this morning. Should have been there yourself.”

  Much to the annoyance of Lady Helen Dameron, who had looked forward to the “informal” levee they were attending that evening, it seemed as if everyone present could talk of nothing else but that bold creature. “La Belle Inconnue,” some silly romantic had called her, and everyone else had taken it up. Why were men so very gullible in some ways? A “horsebreaker”—wasn’t that what they called women like Catherine Walters, who was known as “Skittles” of all things and flaunted herself and her wild, almost unmanageable horses on Rotten Row? A kept woman—bought and paid for. Helen was not supposed to know about such things, of course, but her grandmother had been quite straightforward with her when she had explained what men were like, even after they were married.

  “Give ‘em enough brats and they’ll let you alone after that, my dear. Their harlots—Cyprians—whatever they call ’em these days. They see the ugly side of a man, and better them than you; remember that when you turn a blind eye.”

  She, this woman they were all talking about, was probably one of those, in spite of her so-called connections. Who else would have put on a public exhibition of her riding skills without knowing that everyone watching was comparing her with this Skittles creature, and even laying wagers on one or the other? Not a lady, certainly!

  “What’s the matter, sweet coz? Silent—wistful—not pining for the country, are you?” Helen had not noticed Charles, Viscount Deering, come up to them, flanked by her detestable uncles.

  Helen made her smile sweeter as she acknowledged their bows and allowed them to kiss her small hands. “Why should I pine for the country when I am finding London and my first season so exciting? Why, just the town gossip alone... And I’ve been sitting here alone with Mama while we tried to solve the great mystery puzzle tonight. Haven’t we, Mama?”

  Lady Iris, who had been looking for her friend Lady Stokes in the crush, gave a preoccupied assent, already beginning to wonder if they should leave early enough to attend the theater party given by the Ainslies.

  “La Belle Inconnue,” Helen said with a little laugh. “Heavens, I think that is all we have heard this evening. It is almost as unusual a nickname as ‘Skittles,’ do you not think so?” She looked from one to the other of the three gentlemen with pretended naiveté before giving a deprecating little shrug that showed off her sloping white shoulders to perfection. “You cannot imagine the things people have been saying, and now I do wish that I had persuaded Mama to take one of our carriages to the park this morning to see everything. Were you there by chance? And was it really the same person we saw with Lady Margery at Gunter’s the other day?”

  While the two Viscounts kept finishing each other’s incomplete sentences as they gave an exaggerated (Helen was sure) account of the lovely young Lady Travers, her impeccably cut riding habit (Stultz, of course!) and her magnificent chestnut thoroughbred, Helen’s sharp eyes had not failed to make note of the fact that Lord Charles remained silent and unusually thoughtful through it all. Helen asked ingenuously: “But if she is so much the lady and so enormously wealthy, why is it that no one knows her background or where she comes from? Unless she is Spanish or Italian or something like that, of course...”

  Only then did Charles say in a strangely off-hand kind of voice: “Oh—I have the feeling that Lady Travers comes from sturdy English stock, all right, although I arrived at the Row too late to catch more than a glimpse of her this morning.” And try as she would, Helen could not get anything more out of him for the rest of the night.

  “Well, my dear! It seems as if all of London is talking about you, although in the most flattering terms possible, of course. So wise of you, though, to remain slightly mysterious, at le
ast until after the Stafford House ball. And— oh goodness! Look at all these cards! Now that is the real sign of acceptance, you know.”

  Alexa and Lady Margery had just returned after a tiring morning and afternoon spent shopping at various establishments on Regent Street, and the silver tray in the entrance hall was already piled high with engraved cards that Alexa only frowned at with a slightly preoccupied air.

  “I suppose Mr. Jarvis is right and I should employ a secretary,” she said, leading the way into the pleasantly airy room she had just had redecorated for her use as a study and a retreat. “But I have been sending out polite notes in reply to them all, and that is what has been keeping me busy almost every afternoon.” She paused by one of the windows with her back half-turned to her friend before adding, as if it had been a casual afterthought: “I see that there has been a great deal of activity going on across the square for the past few days. Bridget mentioned that it is all because the Dowager Marchioness of Newbury has decided to move in. Do you think perhaps that she might feel curious enough to have one of her footmen drop a card off here? I wonder what I should do in that case!”

  Lady Margery, who had let herself sink into a chair with a sigh as soon as they had entered, now sighed again as she looked quizzically at the straight-backed young woman who had just turned about to face her. “I would think, love, that it would depend on just what you mean to achieve in the end, if you know what it is yourself. You have made yourself noticed already and have them all buzzing with conjecture as to who you are and where you have appeared from. And there is no doubt in my mind that after you have made your formal social debut at Stafford House next week you will be firmly established in the best social circles, if that is indeed all you want?” She moved her hand almost wearily at Alexa’s look that mixed surprise and wariness. “You don’t mind my being frank? After all, we have all been quite open with each other from the beginning, have we not; and you know that I know as much as my husband does. The point is, my dear—and I hope you have thought about it very carefully, for you know how fond I am of you—are you really sure? Of what you want, what you might gain, and what you might lose?”