A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series) (14 page)

"He'll be here in a day or two, I'm sure, Mother. I'll bring him 'round for a chat soon as he arrives." Rothburn then rose from his seat and indicated that they should be on their way. He smiled at his mother's sudden perkiness. A good skirmish always set her to rights.

"I'll stop by for dinner tomorrow if you wish and we can continue to plan our—ah, well make plans, you know?"

The Countess saw her young guests on their way then went with a slow step up the broad staircase. When she reached her rooms, she did not at first retire, however. She had several missives to write, the first of which was to Lady Janice, inviting herself to a very early tea the next day.

Aggie bustled about, preparing her mistress' night clothes and putting a hot brick at the foot of the bed. She waited in vain for the Countess to appraise her of the latest results in the negotiations from the garden and went off disgruntled to gossip with cook, leaving Lady Susan alone at last with her thoughts.

Chapter Eleven

~~

Griffin George was miserable—distracted. He was, in fact, feeling quite muddle-headed and out of sorts. He'd missed several of his classes and brought down the wrath of the head dean—for the first, and he hoped the last time—normally being very attentive to his studies.

He paced his small quarters back and forth, back and forth, hands running a riotous path through his normally neat hair. There were deep circles of lost sleep beneath his eyes, and his appearance was one of a besotted young man in the throes of painful indecision.

A man whose dreams had been forever changed by a pair of sapphire eyes and a winsome smile.

Having left London with a strong purpose of not looking back, he had for the first two days thrown himself into his lessons with passion. It had not served as he'd lost his ability to attend at the lectures and failed completely to grasp his assignments.

Then the dreams had started. Dreams of Allie waltzing in the arms of a man not himself. Walking down the aisle of a small country church while he stood by as she wed another.

He would wake drenched in sweat, calling out 'wait, don't do this!' and come to his senses slowly, each time with remorse and dread.

Guilt, he decided. That's all it was. Just guilt, for leaving without seeing her and at least explaining his reasons. Of course, he thought his reasons too complicated for Allie to understand. Better she shed her tears now and get over him than to drag it out and find later that he was not up to scratch and able to be wed.

Griffin only wished his convictions were as strong as the words he had spoken to Rothburn. His heart ached abominably, his mind gone adrift with constant thoughts of a slip of a female whose lovely profile stole into his mind's eye with regularity. Her graceful poise, mischievous demeanor, the sweet dimple that appeared occasionally when she laughed. And her laugh, oh what a rich and wonderful sound.

Griffin, annoyed with the train of his thoughts, stomped to his desk and with a sweep of his arm, disabused it of clutter then sat down to write a letter. Several tries and many crumpled sheets later, he sanded the missive and went posthaste to the mail bin.

* * * * *

"A letter for you Miss Allie." Tillie produced the slightly crumpled envelope and handed it over, lingering with a hope of finding out its contents, for her mistress usually shared most things with her. She was disappointed, however, when Allie dismissed her and closed the door to her sitting room firmly behind the maid.

Allie stood looking at the letter as though it were an alien thing. She twisted the envelope in such a manner it might not be readable when she had done. Realizing she must read it or toss it into the fire, she opted for the former and tore the seam of the paper slowly open.

Blinking back fresh tears, she backed into her chair and plopped down in a most unladylike fashion, her eyes trained all the while upon the messy besmirched missive. It was truly difficult to discern, so much crossed through and ink blotched was the paper, but as she read with a growing sense of anger, she forgot her tears as her ire reached a peak.

How dare he write to her thus? The man must be mad to think she would understand such balderdash and accept it as truth. He had simply trifled with her and there was an end to it. Rereading it, however, she could not help but be moved, for he appeared truly distraught.

My Dearest Allie, You must know by now that I've returned to Cambridge. I regret with all my aching heart that I did not seek you out to explain and can only hope that you will read this letter with some compassion for my circumstances, for it has never been my wish to hurt you. I would sooner cut out my heart, which would be just as well considering the pain I have in that region at this moment.

I know you have expected more from me, due to the attentions I gave you and have led you to believe there was something more to us than just goodbye. I must tell you, however, that I cannot in good conscience, give you hope of marriage at this time and it will be, in fact, several years before I am in a position to wed. I would not ask you to wait for me, it would be unfair.

It would be better for us both if you turn your affections away from me and I will try to do the same, though I'm sure, for me, it will be an impossible task. Please do not hate me, for I have loved you and I know that you have feelings of regard for me, if not actual love. I wish you happiness, and will hope that your forgiveness will be forthcoming for it would ease me to know that you harbor no ill feeling. Please respond by soonest post. Yours, Griffin

"Harbor no ill feeling?" Allie read aloud that last phrase once again, her heart heavy and her temperament far from forgiving. With a growing rage, she tore the letter practically in half and tossed it into the grate, watching as the flames caught and began to curl the edges.

With a sudden rending of her heartstrings, she realized that she could destroy nothing Griffin had given her, not even this harbinger of bad tidings. She grabbed the poker and shoved the scorched paper away from the flames and plucked it out, singeing her fingertips in the process.

Sucking upon her burnt digits, she carried the pieces to her secretary and smoothed them against the blotter with her undamaged hand, regretting the destruction she had caused to the only letter she was likely ever to receive from him.

Perversely, she wanted to be a part of his life and make him happy. Yet she wanted—more than anything—to bang his skull with the poker she had just used to rescue his letter from the flames.

Allie began to cry. Silent heartrending drops fell from her sapphire eyes, which grew even deeper in color as her tears washed into them.

* * * * *

At the time Allie was reading his letter, Griffin received one of his own from Rothburn. Its contents set his already agitated emotions roiling even more. As he read, his scalp prickled with dread. His  hands—already clammy—began to shake so he could barely hold the page still enough to peruse the words.

Dear Cousin,  Although I did not attempt to hinder your recent abrupt departure from London, I must admit that I was not comfortable in my mind with your decision. I would be willing to let the matter pass, however, were it not for the request of my great friend, Sir Gordon Pendleton. He desires your immediate return to present yourself that he might put some questions to you regarding your association with his sister.

It appears she has gone into a deep decline—supposedly due to your absence—and, quite naturally, Sir Gordon is unhappy with your treatment of the girl. I know not if he intends to force anything upon you, but it would be wise were you prepared to remove permanently from your current lodgings to an accommodation suitable for a married senior student. I will be happy, should the need arise, to increase the allowance your father has settled upon you, that you may continue your studies.

Please arrange to return here, for at least a short term. I am hoping your honor will prevail, as it has always done. Regards, Rothburn

He finished at last, and tossing the offending missive onto the clutter of his desk, went to stand at the windows overlooking Cambridge. The hustle and bustle of passing carriages and gown clad students hurrying to and fro—along with the sundry other pedestrians—went unnoticed by the despondent Griffin. Barely able to comprehend what might be his fate, he turned the matter over in his mind again and again.

In the deep recesses of his heart, he was glad that he might have the lovely Allie, haunter of his dreams, to keep him company and warm his bed. But the clear, concise scholar that lived in his mind was aghast at the thought of trying to keep up with his learning, follow through with his dreams and at the same time keep a wife happy.

Perhaps—and he near panicked at the idea—even take on the added responsibility of a child. Knowing the decision was out of his hands, fate resting with a man who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to him. Griffin at last let go of fretting and fell instead into bad humor.

Heaving a dramatic sigh that would have done justice to his aunt—the thespian-like Lady Susan—he returned to his desk and penned a carefully thought out answer. Sealing it with a sloppy blob of wax, he went for the second time that day to the post, his feet dragging along the cobbled pavement, eyes on the ground.

Chapter Twelve

~~

Allie looked a dream in her dress of midnight blue satin. The décolletage cut sedately over her rather large bosoms, a pale blue lace shawl draped negligently over her creamy white shoulders. Matching ribbons of the same pale blue threaded her dark amber curls and a choker of pearls gleamed softly at her throat.

Sir Gordon noticed his sister was beginning to take on the appearance of a very mature young woman. Gone was the carefree child he had first escorted to the city. Allie smiled and spoke politely, responding with good manners, but she moved like a marionette, her actions void of liveliness. Not to his credit, he didn't notice that as well.

It had taken Lady Alana some time to convince the girl to accompany them, for she had wished only to stay in her rooms and brood. What finally convinced her to go along was Lady Alana's admonishment that she had her brother quite worried. In fact, so distracted by her troubles he might not take care with his own burgeoning love life.

It would be a shame, she'd pointed out, if he missed out on romance because of her. Of course, there was no danger of this, but Allie was not aware of the subterfuge and had yet to be told of the events of the day.

The group arrived at Beasely's just after nine o'clock, and took their place in line behind a dozen carriages, moving forward slowly to the entrance. While they inched along the street, Allie gazed at the crowd on the walkway, barely attending the conversation taking place around her. It was only the mention of Griffins name that brought her head around sharply, her eyes shining—for just a moment—before they went dull and lifeless once more.

 "Griffin should be here by tomorrow. Should I bring him 'round, or meet you at Rothburn House?" Rothburn and Sir Gordon were well into the topic of just what to do about the situation between the two youngsters.

"Don't know what's best here. Should get him in my study for a nice little chat first, I should think. It's not really your mother's responsibility, after all."

Sir Gordon smiled gently and spoke gently to his sister when he noticed her looking at them. "Allie, we have decided that Griffin needs to be appraised of his responsibilities toward you and you will be happy to know that Rothburn and I fully intend to set things right. He has been sent for; should arrive tomorrow."

 "Never say so! Do not drag him here!" The girl was near hysterical and fumbling for the door handle as though to jump from the carriage. Sir Gordon clamped a firm hand on her arm to prevent her flight and she looked at him with such horror that he withdrew. His heart ached at the haunted look in her eyes. "He has made his wishes quite clear and I will never meet with him again. You cannot expect me to—"

 "Allie, control yourself immediately! If Griffin has trifled with your affections your brother has a duty to admonish him."

Alana's blunt tone quelled the girl who lifted her hand from the carriage handle, slumping  morosely into her seat.

Less severely, she gentled the girl, "You will not see him should you not wish to. It is merely a matter of family honor. Other young men of the
ton
have to be made aware that you are not to be treated lightly. Therefore, Griffin's behavior cannot be left unanswered.

"Gossip runs high, as you well know and if it should touch you, you will be ruined in society. We have a duty to you—and to our family—to keep that from happening."

 "Why should anyone gossip about me—and Griffin?" Allie knew that they had been often in the gardens of various balls and parties, but she had no inkling of any tittle-tattle.

"To our knowledge there has been no gossip," Rothburn's deep voice intoned kindly. "Though, since none of us has been much in society these last few days of course we could not be aware of any.

"Nevertheless, you know as well as I that my cousin has squired you almost constantly for three weeks to every conceivable function of the
ton
, and has danced with you multiple times at Almack's. That in itself could give rise to conjecture among the gossipmongers. We would have Griffin stand ready to do his duty by you should the need arise."

"Duty? You think that I would wed him for
duty
?" Allie, her romantic heart—bruised and battered by Griffins departure—beat wildly at this moment with consternation. "I'd sooner go home, if you don't mind."

The girl near begged, "I've been thinking on it these last days, Gordon. I should like to return to the country, for I cannot be happy here."

"Allie Pendleton, you cannot just go home." Lady Alana spoke sharply once again, her patience with her niece on a short tether. "For one, it would really give the
ton
something to speculate upon, were you to hie away to the country. As well, there have been great expenditures made for your season and for you to just up and toss away all your chances would be beyond belief."

 "Then what shall I do? You are telling me that people are probably talking about us—my reputation may be in shreds at this very moment and yet, you would have me stay here and be humiliated?"

Lady Eleanor, who had been silent until now, joined the campaign. "We know of no gossip. We are only trying to provide a way to protect you should the need arise. If your feelings for Griffin have been noticed—and they likely have—sooner or later someone is going to remark upon his absence. If you leave town as well, it would give rise to a deal of unpleasant speculation regarding your virtue. Do you not understand?"

Allie blushed profusely at Eleanor's words and looked down, nodding that she did indeed understand. Deep in her heart, Allie wished Griffin had truly taken her virtue, but another part of her knew he would never do so.

Yet a third part of her rebelled at the four adults who all looked at her with overwhelming sympathy. She tossed her head and looked back at each one in turn, saying, "Very well then, I shall stay—for awhile at least."

"We have arrived," Sir Gordon announced. "Chin up, little one. You will find that, per chance, Griffin George is not the only young man in the world." He smiled at her reassuringly. "Perhaps even tonight, you shall meet a young man who will sweep you from your doldrums and you may be wed before the week is out—"

"Gordon, do not tease the child!" Seeing a mutinous light in Allie's eyes, Lady Alana was alarmed and wanted to forestall a scene. She was unaware it was her calling Allie a child and not Sir Gordon's words that had brought on the look.

She held her next comment until she had been assisted from the carriage, then she stationed herself next to the girl. Lady Alana took Allie's hand, squeezing it affectionately. "Just be your sweet self and we shall protect you from any unwanted advances, my dear."

Alana looked a warning glance at her nephew, then continued, "And should you find someone to your liking—"

Whatever she would have said was lost in the process of negotiating the steps to the townhouse, the crush of people nearly separating them more than once. For a card party there was a deal of company—Lady Beasley being inclined to invite everyone to every function she hosted.

* * * * *

Allie found herself ensconced at a small table in the library with The Honorable Calvin Beasley as her whist partner. The young man was genuinely glad to have her company. Sadly, Allie could drum up no enthusiasm for the freckled and stiffly proper heir to the Beasley fortune.

She spent an hour not attending the game and they lost badly to the table, though Beasley was gracious about it. Indeed, he asked to escort her to the veranda for a breath of fresh air, to which Allie agreed listlessly.

She cared not where she went, for her mind was upon Griffin and the news she'd had of his imminent arrival.

Beasley, unaware of her befuddled state, thought the girl was actually mooning for him. This assumption on his part gave him every expectation that the lovely Allie would not be adverse to his romantic advances.

Hope rising in his rather thin breast, he escorted her into the throng on the veranda and tried in vain to find a secluded spot. The result of his search landed them in a crush against the balustrade, only half hidden by a large palm and a gooseberry bush. Though they were in plain view, Beasley attempted a very awkward seduction.

He raised his scanty eyebrows in what he considered a rakish manner, pulled Allie close without preamble and put his thin, puckered lips on hers.

Having once been thoroughly kissed by Griffin, she was quite disappointed with this effort and drew back, not so much in alarm as in desperation to be quit of his attentions.

Beasley, taking her withdrawal as coy and sprightly behavior, pursued her once more and found his mouth pressing against her hair as her head turned sharply away. He pulled her face around with his hand, hurting her with an awkward grip, and forced another dry kiss upon her lips.

Allie drew away once more, irate that the young man should be so forward. She shoved against his chest with all her might. Beasley, thrown off balance, crashed into the gooseberry bush.

The plant teetered in its heavy base then crashed over the railing, taking Beasley with it. He grabbed at it desperately, striving for purchase. Arms and legs flailing, he landed awkwardly in a heap at the feet of Sir Gordon and Lady Eleanor while Allie peered at him from above.

 "I say, what the devil is going on here?" Sir Gordon—barely able to withhold his guffaw of laughter at the sight of the young man sprawled in a pile of potting soil and broken branches—sobered instantly when he espied his sister peering at them from above.

Her face red with mortification, eyes round with fright, the girl looked ready to give justice to a bout of histrionics.

"Allie! Whatever are you doing—?" Sir Gordon bellowed at his young charge, his face thunderous.

"Hush Gordon! You'll draw more attention to Allie!" Lady Eleanor, less inclined to emotional behavior than she'd previously been given credit for, whispered to her beloved, "Help Beasley up and do hurry. Let me get Allie away from here. I think no one has noticed her yet, so do be quiet!"

Lifting her skirts a bit to aid her progress, Lady Eleanor hurried up the steps and went to stand next to her future sister-in-law.

"What have I done? Is he dead? Shall he be very angry?" Allie leaned  over the balustrade. Lady Eleanor pulled her back sharply.

"I doubt Beasley will be anything but mortified. Quickly, let us away from here before someone connects you with his fall."

Lady Eleanor, having had experience with such assignations, did not doubt what had happened. "Foolish girl. Who gave you leave to be out here alone with him? This is the very thing that can ruin a lady's reputation."

As Lady Eleanor hustled Allie away from the scene, she continued to lecture, causing Allie to form a great resentment. Allie, who should have been grateful for Lady Eleanor's quick maneuver to remove her from the sphere of probable gossip, was developing a modicum of dislike for her.

But then, lately Allie had not been thinking straight and her perceptions were quite muddled.

Unaware she had given the girl cause for dislike, the gentle Lady Eleanor was pleased for having aided her beloved in the rescue of his sister. "Really, young woman, I should think you would know better!"

 "You did not call me a child!" Allie, forgetting her resentment, was happy to hear herself described as a woman, and gave over her scowl with a tremulous smile for her benefactress. "I guess it was foolish of me. He seemed so—so harmless. Beasley has never done this before."

She put a hand to her lips as she admitted a previous assignation, horror at her slip causing her eyes to go round and large once more. "Ah—that is, he has never given me cause—"

Allie tried to withdraw her comment, but Lady Eleanor, eyes sparkling, gave the girl a shrewd look and Allie subsided, at a loss.

"Well, do not fret. I'm sure it is not the first time such a thing has happened." Lady Eleanor, absorbing Allie's allusion to not being called a child, was acutely aware of the importance of giving the girl status. "I can remember, for instance, a time during my first season—" and the lady described an amusing anecdote regarding herself in a similar situation.