He had been surprised enough to come across any MacKintosh at the ball the previous evening, but seeing Fiona, in particular, had utterly taken him aback. Her appearance so unexpected and altered since their last meeting, that given the strain of his temper, he had been unable to absorb the changes until long after he left.
It was only now that the impact of those changes truly hit him.
If it was even possible, Fiona MacKintosh was even more beautiful now than she had been when he’d last seen her two years past. Her loosely upswept dark hair supported a modishly mammoth piece of millinery covered with pleated blue silk encircled by a wide starched white lace brim that did little to shadow the perfection of her features; an undeniably feminine version her brothers with a perfect nose impishly upturned, a stubborn jaw, incredible cheekbones and smooth, creamy cheeks that dimpled when she smiled. Wide-set green eyes were framed by thick, dark lashes and arching brows that lifted just so. Her tantalizing mouth, once set in a perpetual smile, was now bent into a frown, fighting the natural curve of her full lips as his thorough gaze took her in and drifted downward.
She was dressed at the height of fashion, the tailored lines of her walking suit at their best advantage clinging to her tall athletic frame. Her robin’s egg blue skirt hugged the curve of her hips before flaring out to fall to the floor in soft folds. In contrast to the dull sheen of the linen skirt, the shine of her satin sash with the silver accents drew attention to the narrowness of her waist just as the deep lapels and nipped waist of her jacket and white pleated shirtfront exposed by the waist-deep V of her bodice beneath it pronounced the fullness of her bosom. And if nothing else could be said about the huge leg o’ mutton sleeves that were currently in fashion, a gentleman could easily appreciate the way the added breadth across a lady’s shoulders only served to exaggerate the pleasing hourglass of her figure.
Fiona’s was eminently laudable.
Gone were the frilly frocks and grass-stained skirts. A time when not a strand of her hair would be in place. Now nary a strand dared to escape.
Like her vibrancy, her vivacity…still there but contained by a newfound sophistication.
Gone was the adolescent ingenuousness and naïveté that had made him feel as if he were a depraved old roué for acknowledging even the tiniest bit of attraction for such an innocent gamine.
Gone, too, was the broad, welcoming grin and worshipful light in her green eyes that had always greeted him in the past.
Indeed this poised, stunning woman before him was piercing him with an icy glare that clearly desired nothing more than his immediate embarkment on a swift journey straight to a fiery hell.
“Fiona,” Aylesbury said roughly, then cleared his throat and corrected himself. “Lady Fiona.”
One brow lifted, arching with contempt.
She had always been difficult, the minx. He tried once more. “How nice to see you again.”
Full, rosy lips that had always before softened with affection at the sight of him, compressed into a tight line much as they had the previous night before Fiona turned on one heel and marched away—again—without sparing him a word.
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” Eve was already apologizing for her sister-in-law’s behavior before those blue skirts had completely disappeared from sight. “It is not at all like Fiona to behave so. I don’t know what prompted such rudeness.”
Regrettably, Aylesbury did.
Chapter 8
…and the number of calves expected in the Devonshire herd this spring has the potential to increase the herd by nearly a third. The tin mines near Liverpool have recorded a record quarterly profit. The annual accounting should go well for the estate.
Were my courtship of Moira only going so well. While Aylesbury longs for a mistress, I can tell it will not find one in Moira MacKenzie. She is clearly nursing a tendre for Vin MacKintosh and surprisingly the realization does not pain me. I can tell as well from Vin’s moony-eyed sullenness at the theater this evening that my presence at her side rankles him deeply…all the more reason to continue as payment for mucking up my plans. But there will be another lady come along one day and I am in no hurry to wed without mutual affection.
There was another thing about this evening…Bah! I am a cad for even allowing the thought to cross my mind!
~From the correspondence of the Marquis of Aylesbury—Jan 1893
“Lady Fiona…”
Fiona ignored him and hurried up the next flight of stairs as quickly as she could without tripping on her skirts, which she already held high above her knees. More than likely, Aylesbury was getting an eyeful of her embroidered silk stockings and bejeweled leather boots but she couldn’t care what parts of her body were bared as long as she was well away from him.
“Fiona, please wait!”
“I have nothing to say to you, Lord Aylesbury,” she called over her shoulder, disgusted with herself for even speaking so many words to him.
“You’re still angry with me.”
Did he really need to sound so surprised? A low growl tightened in her throat. “You’re bloody right, I am!”
Swinging around, she was surprised to find Aylesbury just behind her. With a gasp, she stepped back, nearly teetering off the step but he caught her around the waist, steadying her but also effectively halting her retreat. Her breasts were pressed firmly against his solid chest, which was even more unyielding when she brought her hands up to push him away.
“Let go of me!”
Much to her surprise, he not only did so immediately but stepped up two more steps to the landing just above. As quick as it was, that brief embrace was long enough to steal her breath away and infuse her with an unwelcome heat that had nothing to do with anger.
“Won’t you give me a chance to apologize?”
“For what exactly?” she asked, widening her eyes with feigned bewilderment. Still, unwilling to have him look down on her so, she, too, climbed up to the landing, oddly thankful for the relative stability she found there when he had her so off kilter. “After all this time, it’s hard to recall.”
“You are being difficult.”
“A family trait. You always did say that I was the worst of the bunch, didn’t you?”
“I said many things I regret.” Aylesbury sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers. While he appreciated her anger from a distance, he had forgotten how exasperating Fiona could be in a direct confrontation. She had a knack for deflecting his point with such off-topic comments. “I wanted to apologize for leaving Edinburgh so abruptly. I meant to do so straight away but was called away on a family emergency.”
Dropping her contrived expression of incomprehension abruptly, her wide green eyes narrowed as her brows snapped together irritably. “You’re apologizing for leaving Edinburgh? Is that all?”
“No. I also wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings as I did,” he began awkwardly, having not really rehearsed what he meant to say. “As I said, I once said many things that I regret. Not the least of those was…”
“My feelings?” Her brows shot up in disbelief as she cut him short. “Do you believe that you hurt only my feelings? That is was nothing more than that?”
“You were a girl with a crush…”
“I was in love with you!” Fiona cried out, immediately regretting the admission.
Turning away she ran up the next flight of stairs, determined to leave him once again in the past where he belonged, but his short bark of disbelief had her whirling around, stomping back down to him until she was able to point a finger directly at his face.
“You think I was maybe too young or too inexperienced to know my own feelings? I may have been young but I knew what love was, Harry. And what it wasn’t.” She struggled to keep the tears she was fighting out of her voice. “I saw it every day all around me. I loved you, wanted you. Wanted more than anything to share a love with you like the love my brothers have with their wives.”
Aylesbury felt h
er words like a blade through the heart. He’d never meant to toy with her affections, telling himself that it had just been a lighthearted flirtation. That, at eighteen, she had merely been honing her skills on him, practicing for her Season ahead or that any affection she had borne for him had been nothing more than girlish infatuation. He liked to believe that his rejection hadn’t truly pained a girl of such tender years, that she would rebound quickly with the benefit of youth. That by now she would have been wed and started on a family of her own.
That he had been denying no one but himself.
“Just leave me be, Harry!”
“Fiona!” Catching her by the arm, he trapped her before she could run once more. “Let me explain.”
“There is nothing to explain. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter any longer. I’ve met a man I l-love very much.” She almost couldn’t say it. “I’ve moved on. Please let me go.”
This time when she pulled away and raced up the stairs, he didn’t try to stop her.
He couldn’t say that trusting her words would have changed anything two years ago. Despite the death of his father when he had been twenty and the burden of the title and its responsibilities, he had been alarmingly untroubled about life then. Abby’s teasing assessment of him—that he was too blithe to be believed—had never been far off.
The attraction he had felt for Fiona had unsettled him more than Aylesbury cared to admit back then. But even while he was disturbed by just how much pleasure he took in her company, he had conversely continued to enjoy it, unable to forgo her friendship.
Being around her had brought him a great deal of happiness though he had refused to consider it as anything more at a time. A time when there was enough joy in life to fill his heart.
But he, who had been carefree for the better part of his life –had been wallowing in misery for so long now. Nothing appealed to him more than finding that warmth of heart once again, than seeking happiness for himself.
Finding it in the one place he had staunchly negated that it could be found.
With Fiona MacKintosh.
It wouldn’t be an easy conquest by any means. Along with her claim that she was in love with another man, Fiona had hardened herself against him, though with admittedly justifiable enmity for the wrong he had inadvertently done.
Still, she said that she had been truly in love with him then.
Well, Aylesbury thought determinedly, if she had fallen once, it stood to reason that she could fall again.
Chapter 9
Today I was out riding on Carlton Hill when I happened upon Harry leaving Francis’ house. He was so terribly handsome in his riding jacket! And also complimentary of my new habit. The cut of the jacket Eve allowed me to have is far more elegant than anything Abby might have let me have because she considers me a child still.
The way Harry stared at me, I don’t believe he thought I looked like one at all!
~From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh—Feb 1893
Hyde Park
London, England
Two days later
“You’ve been quite rude to Lord Aylesbury since our arrival in London. I’m surprised at you.”
Fiona arched a brow casting her sister-in-law a sidelong glance but Eve did not return her look nor did her gaze even waver as she serenely strolled along at Fiona’s side. The first part of her comment was pure Eve and what Fiona had come to expect from the woman who had taken it upon herself to polish her manners these past several years.
The soft note of reprisal in the words that followed were quite unlike her, though. Eve was normally given to a quiet observation with no condemnation or a trifling commentary that became a valuable lesson. Of course, Fiona wasn’t normally one to outwardly cut a member of the British peerage, either.
“I must confess, I’m surprised it took you so long to mention it.”
“This is the first chance I’ve had to speak with you alone.”
A grin tugged the corner of Fiona’s mouth. They were scarcely alone as they walked side by side on the narrow path that paralleled Rotten Row along the northern shore of the Serpentine with Fiona pushing an ornate Silver Cross wooden body pram with Lela and Alice within while Eve’s eyes remained glued to Preston who toddled a few yards ahead on Ilona’s hand while his older brother, Laurie, tagged along on their way to picnic in a shady spot near the Tyburn Brook where the children could throw breadcrumbs to the ducks. The children’s nanny followed close behind.
Besides them, the park was riddled with other mothers and nannies doing the same since it was another fine spring morning. The air held a bit of chill from the overnight rain but the sun shone brightly through the trees casting random shadows on the graveled walk that wove through the park.
“It wasn’t well done of you at all.”
Fiona didn’t respond but merely bit her lip and cooed down at her nieces in the pram, waving her fingers at them until Lela was giggling merrily. On her little knees, she gripped the side of the carriage and bounced back and forth babbling incoherently, rocking the pram and infant within. Wee Alice only sucked her fist, unconcerned by the ruckus around her as only a fourth child could be.
She grinned down at them both. She would happily take one of each and maybe a half-dozen more just like them. Having been raised among as but one in a large, boisterous family, it had never occurred to her to have anything less for herself. Despite their recent overbearing behavior, she adored being surrounded by the people she loved and all the chaos that came with them.
A quiet life just wasn’t for her and looking down at the sweet babies in the pram, she was more determined than ever to have it for herself. If only her plan for achieving that goal was unwavering.
Ilona’s words of caution had begun to wear her down. Though she continued to meet secretly with Ramsay, the joviality that had always been a hallmark of their interactions had gone dismally amiss. Instead he had been morose like a puppy that had lost its favorite toy. Again and again, he insisted that they elope and have done with this ‘foolishness.’ The pleasure she had always taken in his company, as brief as it was these days, was fast fading.
And it had caused her to consider taking Francis’ suggestion more seriously. Perhaps it would be possible to find another potential husband here in London after all. After bicycling with Lord Temple, she had met him again to ride, on horseback this time, the previous afternoon and well enjoyed his company. Though she still considered him with sisterly care, there was the possibility that her affection for him might yet become more amorous. If not, she had met a number of other eligible gentleman over the past week as well.
But the very last person she would even pretend to consider would be the man who seemed to find some peculiar amusement in pestering her.
Yes, Eve was right, she was being quite rude to Lord Aylesbury.
“You’re ignoring me,” Eve admonished softly.
“Of course, I am,” she retorted as she bent over the carriage and tickled little Lela. “Why would your mummy expect anything less?” she cooed to the toddler in singsong. “When I am a full-grown woman now and not a child to be scolded so?”
“Am I scolding you?” Eve drew to a halt and relaxed into a warm smile of her own. “I suppose I am, but old habits die hard, I suppose.”
She was ever thankful for Eve coming into her life and her oldest brother’s. Fiona’s mother had died giving birth to her, a much-longed-for daughter after a never-ending string of boys, so Fiona had never had much feminine influence until Richard had married Abby when Fiona was twelve. Fiona loved Abby as well, but she still saw Fiona as a child whereas Eve saw and treated Fiona as a young woman. Or at least she always had before.
“It was never your habit, Evie,” she corrected, finally meeting her eye. “So why would you do so now?”
“Lord Aylesbury has enough troubles of his own just now without being treated so abominably, dearest,” Eve said rather enigmatically.
“I’m treating him abominably?” Fion
a responded with a raised brow, surprised at Eve’s unexpected defense. “How terribly amusing. Besides, what troubles might Aylesbury possibly have that would require one to tip-toe about his sensibilities? He’s handsome, charming…rich,” she added as an afterthought.
“All the charm in the world cannot spare a man of woe.”
Fiona frowned at that subdued tone, feeling a worried pinch in her heart that she shook off with a laugh. “Woe? Now I know you are bamming me. Never has there been a fellow so absent of woe as Harrison Brudenall.”
But even as she said it, she remembered the look of haggard despondency she had seen on his face after that fight at the Onslow ball. It had been soul-shattering. And though he had flashed a smile or two the last few times they had met, there was still a somewhat pinched quality about him that wasn’t at all consistent with the perpetual humor that had once played about his expression.
No, now that she thought about it, that drawn look made her think that he was rather sad in some way. Defeated. Did Eve know what had caused it? Was that why Harry had come to Eaton Square?
Was she really going to trouble her heart with caring once more for the Marquis of Aylesbury when he spared so little consideration for her? Especially when he had openly confessed his love for another?
Sucking in a breath, she lifted her chin. “Whatever Aylesbury is about, I’m sure it is none of my business. None at all.”
“What happened to make you so embittered toward the marquis? It is not like you to be so callous,” Eve said quietly.
Fiona could only shake her head. “And I’m sure that is none of your business.”
Eve sucked in a breath but Fiona steeled herself against pleading forgiveness for her harsh words but the tone was something else. “I’m sorry, Eve, to speak to you so. You have been nothing but a friend to me and I love you dearly, but I will not speak of Lord Aylesbury.”
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