Chapter 24
I have submitted a letter to the editors of Ladies Journal cancelling my subscription to their periodical. If the fashion advice offered within those pages proves to be as fallacious as their advice to the tender hearts of Britain as well, I shall know that the whole of it contains nothing but drivel, just as Francis warned.
~From the diary of Lady Fiona MacKintosh—Apr 1893
Hyde Park
Three days later
“I am doing all of this for you, you know. I came to London…”
“I told you before, Lord Ramsay, that I intended to wait until the Season is over,” Fiona interrupted. Pedestrians strolling by eyed them quizzically. The sight of a single young woman dressed to ride but leading her mount instead as she conversed with a man on foot must not have been a common one. “And though I did not ask you to come to London, I did request you to take this time to get to know my family. Instead of doing that, you’ve insisted on clandestine meetings…”
In turn, Ramsay interrupted her, stopping her with a hand on her arm. “All your talk of waiting out the Season! If you had simply eloped with me, none of that would have happened! Why won’t you simply reconsider?”
“Good Lord Almighty,” Fiona muttered under her breath. “Please do not ask me again!”
His icy blue eyes were heavy on hers, petulant, containing none of the adoration Fiona had come to expect. Just as none of their conversations compared any longer the lighthearted banter they had once shared. Though they had always parted with Ramsay’s good-natured apology, Fiona was beginning to see a side of him she could not like as his frustration grew.
Aylesbury’s accusation didn’t help.
“If you aren’t content to wait, Lord Ramsay, perhaps we should just end our association now,” Fiona said at last, ready to kick all of her plans to the curb and begin anew. “Clearly it has become a source of contention between us. Perhaps if I understood the reason for your impatience?” she added, wondering if he would say anything that might substantiate Aylesbury’s allegation.
The tension dropped from his shoulders as he relented once again. “I am simply eager to begin our lives together,” he reiterated the same reasoning she had heard from him before, but this time, with that accusation at the back of her mind, it all rang false.
“I apologize for all this, Lord Ramsay, but I truly feel that perhaps the time has come…”
“What are they doing here?”
Fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, Fiona realized that she was beginning to understand Aylesbury’s compunction to do the same. Turning, she saw Vin and Connor riding toward them. She should have known her time alone was limited; this time she was actually grateful for the interruption. “They are riding as escort for me and I need to go now. Unless you would care to join us?”
“Join you?” Ramsay scoffed. “They hate me.”
“Why is that exactly?” Fiona asked, pushing again for some sign that Aylesbury might have been right all along.
Ramsay said nothing, merely glowered at her brothers as they reined in their horses close by.
“Ramsay,” Connor nodded in curt acknowledgement.
Vin said nothing at all, merely glaring at Ramsay as he turned and walked away without a word of farewell. A few seconds later, Vin kicked his horse into motion and pulled up alongside her suitor, leaning from the saddle to speak. Fiona couldn’t hear what he was saying but couldn’t find it in her to be curious.
“I said ten minutes,” she complained, turning to Connor.
“You got five. Be glad for it. Vin was ready to come over the moment Ramsay touched your arm.” Connor dismounted and took the reins of Fiona’s horse from her. “You do not really plan on marrying Ramsay, do you Blossom?”
“Et tu, Connor?”
“He’s an utter toad.” Connor cupped his hands to help Fiona remount. “Completely lacking in character.”
“Ah, another member of the choir to sing me its sweet chorus!” she mocked, as she pulled back the skirts of her black riding habit and stepped into her brother’s hands, letting him toss her up into the saddle. “Has everyone joined then?”
“Seriously, Blossom,” he continued as he, too, remounted and came alongside her as Fiona settled herself in the sidesaddle. “You cannot love him. Not as you should.”
“But I thought such love sickened you?”
Connor shrugged. “More with some than with others, it seems.”
“Why do you all dislike him so?” Fiona fiddled with her skirts casually, draping them over her leg but tense with anticipation that Connor might say something informative.
“There have been some concerns regarding Lord Ramsay’s motives,” Connor offered vaguely, giving some vindication to Aylesbury’s claim. Fiona thought she might have been able to pry something more from him but Vin rejoined them.
“Why did you feel as if you had to meet Ramsay out here like this, Blossom?” he asked.
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t feel free to meet in a public park the man I intend to marry, Vin?” Fiona asked just to see if he might give away even something more than Connor.
Vin only rolled his eyes unaccommodatingly. “Bloody hell, Blossom! Still?”
“I am content with my choice, Vin.”
“Bah! Contentment is for a hot bath and even that becomes chilly if you stay in too long,” he grumbled. “What can you possibly see in him?”
“He’s taller than me?” Fiona joked.
Vin and Connor both chuckled at that.
“Aye, no mean feat,” Connor allowed but gestured behind Fiona. “But he isn’t the only one.”
“Lady Fiona!”
Fiona turned to find Lord Harrowby approaching on an enormous silver dapple Percheron some eighteen hands tall that brought images of ancient Viking warhorses to mind. However, it was pleasing in proportion to the equally massive earl. Harrowby doffed his tall hat with a breathtaking grin as he pulled the beast to a halt. “Good afternoon, my lady. What a surprise and a pleasure to find you about.”
As it was the most fashionable hour to be seen on Rotten Row and the park was filled to the brim with riders and carriages, Fiona was sure it was no surprise at all. But Harrowby was handsome enough to make the pleasure of their encounter mutual. “I’m sure you say that to all the ladies,” Fiona said as he kissed her outstretched hand.
“I’m sure I do,” he responded, his blue eyes twinkling as he grinned down at her. His eyes traveled up and down her length with warm appreciation. “You have a fine seat, Lady Fiona.”
“Yours is quite fine as well,” she returned giving him the same once over. It wasn’t hard to tell that Harrowby was hoping to fluster her, and Fiona suspected it was but another weapon in a well-stocked arsenal used to keep women blushing around him. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction and the earl must have sensed it, his practiced grin relaxing into a more natural smile.
Turning he greeted Connor and introduced himself to Vin before turning back to Fiona. “I was sorry to miss our dance the other night.”
Fiona produced a quick lie about tearing her hem and having to spend more than an hour in the ladies retiring room to get it fixed. “I’m sure you hardly missed me.”
Harrowby covered his heart with one hand. “On the contrary, I was devastated. Why it took six—no, eight—more young ladies in my arms to ease my pain.”
“That many? How scandalous.”
“My family has long been mired in scandal,” he said with a wink, falling in beside her as they continued down the crushed gravel lane bordering the south side of the Serpentine. “My mother married my tutor after my uncle, the previous earl, disappeared—never to be seen again.”
“Yes, we MacKintoshs cut our teeth on scandal as well,” Fiona laughed.
“Perhaps we should be scandalous together,” the earl murmured in a low voice, leaning close to her ear so as not to be overheard by her brothers.
Fiona burst out laughing. �
��My, my, Harrowby, you do know how to lead a woman on!” she teased, flashing a deep simple before she lowered her voice as well. “But I would wager that the last thing you are looking for is a noose in the form of a wedding ring.”
Chest rumbling in a pleasantly low chuckle, Harrowby favored her with a look of pleasure. “You are a very astute woman. I can see if I were to welcome matrimony any time soon, I would have to be the hunter when it came to you.”
“Instead of the hunted?” Fiona nodded. “Imagine the novelty.”
“Indeed, it would almost make such an endeavor worthwhile.”
“Almost.”
Harrowby laughed again as Fiona turned upon hearing her name called again. This time it was Lord Temple who joined them astride the Appaloosa thoroughbred he had ridden last time Fiona had met him in the park.
“And another. That makes at least two others,” Connor teased referring to Fiona’s comment about height. “So many choices.”
Fiona waved him off and greeted Temple warmly, introducing him to Harrowby. “I haven’t seen you in days. I was afraid you’d left London.”
“No, just meeting with Kimberley.”
“The Foreign Secretary? Nothing serious, I hope?” she asked.
“Nothing more serious than his tiresome garrulity,” Temple assured her with a slight smile. While the Earl of Kimberley was given to random verbal digressions, Fiona rather doubted such verbosity was alone enough to make Temple’s usually serious demeanor even more solemn than normal.
“My goodness, Lord Temple,” Fiona teased, hoping to lure him from his doldrums. “How awful! Was there no escape?”
Temple smiled. “I shall just have to tell him next time that I have an appointment to ride with the loveliest lady in London and cannot stay.”
“Let me know and I shall get the bicycles ready!”
Harrowby asked about that, setting off a lively conversation about bicycles and the future of transportation, but minutes later Fiona’s attention was snared by the sight of Aylesbury in the distance. Astride a sleek black Arabian, he was halted next to an elegant equipage with two ladies within. As parasols shifted, she was able to make out Miss Langston. He was speaking to her intently, practically leaning over into the carriage as Miss Langston shook her head dramatically. Finally, he sat upright and tipped his hat politely as the carriage jerked into motion and departed.
Even though he never so much as slouched in his saddle, Fiona could see the dejection in his posture and her unwilling heart went out to him.
“Will you gentlemen excuse me for a moment?”
* * *
“Are you all right, Harry?”
Aylesbury blinked, coming out of his sightless reverie as Fiona pulled alongside of him on a large black Frisian Aylesbury recognized all too well. “I didn’t know the countess had brought Angel to London with her.”
“I’ve sort of adopted Angel these past couple of years,” Fiona said, patting the horse’s neck. Her slim hands were encased in simple black leather gloves quite unlike what he had grown used to seeing on her. Thankful for the distraction, Aylesbury admired the snug fit of her black riding habit. The double-breasted jacket fitted about her tiny waist before flaring out over her hips with just a splash of her red brocade waistcoat peeking from the bottom and at the simple tie banding her white high-necked blouse. She wore black leather boots and a simple satin-banded top hat similar to his own.
Neat and severe as usual, but a breeze lifted the hem of her skirt. The sight of riotous red satin floral embroidery blooming up her black stockings filled him with pleasure. “You look lovely, Fiona.”
Fiona blinked at the softly spoken compliment and shifted uncomfortably in her saddle before responding with a simple thank you. “Are you all right, Harry?” she asked again with open concern. “I saw you speaking with Miss Langston.”
He hadn’t seen her in several days believing she would be harboring even more ill will toward him than ever. Caring he had not expected, but it was there, readily apparent in her bottle green eyes. “Do you think I’m a fool?”
“Often.”
Aylesbury smiled at that. She pulled no punches.
“Did you find out anything at all?” When Aylesbury shook his head, her lovely eyes dimmed and she reached across the space between them, squeezing his hand, perhaps the first open sign of caring she had offered since coming to London. Certainly the first touch she had initiated. Sorrow, for him. “I’m sorry, Harry.”
“I didn’t expect anything really.” Turning his hand over, Aylesbury allowed his fingers to curl around hers, then entwine through them. He looked down their tightly laced fingers. Their gloved hands melded together, one. Fiona’s eyes followed his and with a blush, she pulled her hand away. Much to his surprise, she didn’t leave him abruptly but rather lingered.
“What became of Piper? After your father banished her mother, that is?”
Though it was clearly not the topic he had been expecting, Aylesbury answered, “Father kept Piper with us. She was ours and we both loved her so much. She brought a light into our lives that had been absent since Mother’s death. When Father died, he made me her guardian, not her mother, Gretchen. But I was a young man, a bachelor with no other close female relatives and no notion of how to raise an eleven-year-old on my own. To my eternal regret, I brought her mother to town and bought them a house not far from mine so that I could visit Piper. And I did, daily. And wrote just the same when we were apart. I know Piper would have rather been with me and I felt the same, but I didn’t feel as if I had another option. I certainly wasn’t going to have Gretchen back in my home though she waved the banner of her title around town enough. It will be my extreme pleasure to take it away from her, perhaps someday quite soon?”
A not-so-subtle hint, but Fiona didn’t take the bait.
Instead she thought about Piper Brudenall who had lost a father and never truly had a mother. Fiona, too, had lost her parents very young. Her mother had died just days after giving birth to her. Though her father had gratefully refrained from remarrying as rashly as Harry’s, Alexander MacKintosh had done little else in life before following his beloved wife into an early grave before Fiona’s third birthday. Thankfully Francis, even though he had been just eighteen when he had become guardian to them all, had never considered sending her off to live with Granny, their only female relative.
Being raised by ten older brothers had been wonderful, but as a result she’d had few feminine influences in her life. Other than her nannies and the rare governess, there had been no women about Glen Cairn—other than Francis’ damned wife who everyone agreed did not count—until Richard had married Abby when she was twelve. Even then, the pair had been wrapped up in each other and their new baby.
But if there was one thing Fiona did learn about during her unusual childhood, it was men. She knew them at their worst. How they were when they were among themselves and how they were when women were about to prompt their finer manners. And as one by one her brothers had wed and found love, she knew how men acted when they loved a woman.
When Harry had come along years before, he hadn’t displayed those actions toward her. She could admit that honestly now. But he hadn’t done so with Moira either as he courted her.
No, his heart had not engaged but at seventeen and eighteen, Fiona had determined that it would be. With her. She had failed miserably then but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be now.
“What are you thinking?”
Fiona shook her head. “Nothing. Just about your sister.”
With a sigh, Aylesbury shifted in his saddle. “Ah, Fiona. You hide your feelings from m…from your family. You think they are too much to bear, but you don’t realize what it might be like to lose your loved ones, to long for them. You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.”
Yes, she did. In more ways than he might think and more than she would admit to. “Is that when you realized it?”
Aylesbury met her eyes so intently that for a mom
ent Fiona wasn’t sure if he were any more certain than she whether they were speaking of siblings or themselves. The past or the present. “How much she meant to you?” she clarified.
“I will tell her one day,” he said. “When I find her again, I mean.”
Fiona watched with a frown. “I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I know you see women on the street and think it might be Piper, but you do know that she wouldn’t just be walking around London like that, don’t you?” Fiona bit her lip, knowing her question was more than a little cruel. Life had taught her that the truth often hurt, though.
“I know deep down that is true. Still, I see her everywhere, everywhere I turn, like a ghost lingering at the corner of my eye. I cannot help but try to find her still. You see, it’s hope that drives me, Fiona. Hope for better days. Hope that I might right the wrongs I so thoughtlessly made in the past.”
He looked at her then, his eyes probing hers once again and Fiona had to wonder who and what he was really referring to.
“You can’t spend the rest of your life chasing ghosts, Harry.”
“Neither can you.”
And Fiona suddenly realized that she didn’t want to.
It seemed there was still some measure of hope alive in her as well.
“I’m glad to see that you didn’t come out without an adequate escort but you know when I said anyone was better than Ramsay, I’m not sure if I meant Harrowby,” Aylesbury said quietly. “Is he now in the running?”
Fiona realized that she had completely forgotten about the company she had been in. Twisting around in her saddle, she studied the quartet trailing along behind. Though Vin and Temple were in deep conversation, Connor and Harrowby were flirting with all the passing ladies, flashing deep dimples and oozing charm.
Both Temple and Harrowby were entertaining, handsome, and enjoyable company though Temple was—as Ilona said—oftentimes too serious in temperament for Fiona and Harrowby even more lighthearted than Aylesbury could have ever been accused of being. She liked them both very much but they just weren’t…Harry.
All You Could Ask For Page 137