Alicia (13 page)

“Then you shall, at the birthday dinner, and I should warn you that I have requested that Mother wear her new gown. She has not seen it yet, of course, but she agreed to please me.”

Alicia turned concerned eyes to his. “She will guess that Felicia designed it, will she not?”

“I imagine so.”

“Then it might be wisest if we did not come, sir. I should not like to have such an occasion spoiled by our presence.”

Laughing eyes met her gaze as he replied, “And miss all the fun? Never. It is most necessary that you and your daughter be there, I assure you.”

“Felicia might be embarrassed by Lady Stronbert.”

He considered her remark gravely and shook his head. “No, Mother would not upset your daughter, ma’am, you need have no fear. We are all grateful that Felicia has proved such a good friend to Dorothy, for my niece was rather lonely and worried over her mother’s illness.”

Alicia bowed her head and studied her hands as she said softly, “It is we who are grateful, Lord Stronbert, for the acceptance which has been accorded Felicia at the Court. I...I have not always indicated my appreciation, I know, but,”
she swallowed nervously, conscious that his eyes were intent on her, “I pray you will understand how sincerely I feel your kindness.”
With difficulty she raised her head and met his gaze. In spite of the buzz of conversation around them, she felt very much alone with him, aware only of the warmth in his smile, the keenness of his eyes, the strength of his presence.

“If it were possible, I would welcome you at the Court routinely, Lady Coombs. It is scarcely satisfactory for me to speak with you only in the shop.”
He ignored her distracted flush and continued, “You are busy, I realize, but you must arrange to visit the Court while Lady Gorham is here. It is you she has come to see.”

“I do intend to make time to see Lady Gorham,”
she murmured, unable to still the tumult his words had raised in her breast. It was nonsense of course to place too much significance on them. His observance was flattering, to be sure, but very confusing to her. Doubtless she was responding to his authority and capability, having had to rely on her own wits for so long. And there was no denying that he was a handsome man with a thoughtfulness rare in her experience. He meant nothing more than to put her at ease because she was a shopkeeper, though gently born. With relief she noted that Lady Stronbert had risen and was moving toward her to make her farewells.

Miss Carnworth immediately rose also and soon the entire party was heading for the hall where the maids were waiting to dispense pelisses and bonnets. Lord Stronbert lingered to speak with his hostess. “We will look forward to having you to dinner next week, Lady Coombs. I trust you will forgive me for invading your bed chambers.”

Alicia flushed slightly but said automatically, “Certainly, sir. I appreciated your finding the necessary chair.”

When the two women were alone Felicia said sadly, “They have all been invited to the Wickham ball, Mama.”

“I am sorry, my love. There will be other balls some day.”

“Oh, I know. Cassandra said she would not go if I did not, but I told her not to be ridiculous.”

Alicia hugged her daughter close and sighed. “You are brave, dear. We
are
invited to Lord Stronbert’s birthday dinner next week. Shall you like that?”

Felicia brightened visibly. “Very much, Mama. Shall you?”

“Yes,”
Alicia admitted, rather alarmed at her own anticipation of seeing Stronbert again.

As arranged with the Clintons and Cassandra, Felicia, donning a blue riding habit, joined them the following day. Although there were sufficient horses housed at Stronbert Court to mount half the town, Alicia had suggested that during Cassandra’s stay there, Felicia should hire Hodges’s mare so that her friend might ride Dancer. The girl could see no logic to this exercise, since Cassandra could have her choice of half a dozen mares from the Court stables, but she recognized that it somehow had to do with her mother’s pride, and she gave in with a good grace. Rowland had protested, well aware of Felicia’s partiality to Dancer, but she had remained firm.

The party met at the Feather and Flask stables and determined to ride north of town, since the weather was propitious and the way led by an inviting stream where they could all dismount and listen to the babble while seated on the pine-needled ground. Felicia suffered under the feeling that Cassandra and Dorothy would naturally be discussing the Wickham ball and the gowns they were to wear, if she were not with them. Several times the conversation did indeed drift in that direction, only to be brought up short as one or the other of the young ladies realized that it was not a discussion in which Felicia could take part.

Rowland grew impatient with his sister for her carelessness in making Felicia uncomfortable and suggested that they might like to visit the natural cave further up the stream.

“Never say you want us to troop up that muddy bank!”
Dorothy protested. “My habit has never been the same since the day we went there.”

“Oh, pooh,”
Felicia protested, her eyes sparkling with interest. “I have never been in a cave. Is it large?”

“The merest hole in the wall,”
Dorothy disparaged, “and muddy as can be.”

“But it hasn’t rained in days,”
Rowland pointed out. “I have no doubt it will be dry as a bone.”

Cassandra took her cue from Dorothy, since she had no desire to despoil the brand new riding outfit she was wearing. “Another time, perhaps, Rowland. It is too pleasant just sitting here to even think of moving.”

“And you, Felicia? Have you no spirit of adventure?”
Rowland challenged.

Jumping to her feet immediately, Felicia retorted, “There is nowhere that you could go that I would not be able to follow. I climbed about the Scarborough cliffs as a child with our neighbors. Lead on, sir.”

“You will ruin your pretty outfit,”
Dorothy cautioned with a grin.

“Oh, what can it matter compared with seeing a cave?”
Felicia laughed.

Since there were no other takers, Rowland and Felicia followed the stream as it wound through the trees to the north. He took her hand to assist her over a fallen tree and did not release it as they continued, declaring stoutly, “The ground is rough hereabouts and I don’t want you to fall.”

Although Felicia would ordinarily have informed him that she was quite capable of looking to herself, she liked the warmth of his hold on her and made no protest. “Is it far?”

“Not very. Perhaps half a mile or so. Are you tired already?”
He looked down at her with amused eyes.

“Of course not! I was merely interested. When did you find the cave?”

“Uncle Nigel took us there shortly after we came. He often rides this way to visit the Tooker farm with Helen and Matthew. I’m glad you shall be at his birthday party, but you must not mind being left out of the Wickham ball, Felicia,”
he said seriously. “It will be dull indeed without you, but Lady Wickham is a stuffy old bag and her son is a nodcock. I daresay you won’t miss a thing.”

Felicia offered him a forced smile and a sigh. “Indeed. We are still in mourning in any case, and I suppose I could not dance, so it is better that I should not be there at all.”

“Right you are.”
He pressed her hand encouragingly and they walked on in silence.

The murmur of the stream and the twitterings of the birds in the trees about them became more obvious now, and Felicia reveled in this chance to be entirely alone with Rowland. In spite of the fact that they rode almost daily, there were always others with them. Certainly Dorothy and Cassandra were her dearest friends (her only friends, she thought sadly), but Rowland was different. There were things she wished to share with him that she would never mention to the two young ladies. But now that she was alone with him she did not quite know how to begin; perhaps he would not wish to hear about her problems and her thoughts. She cast a sidelong glance at him and found him studying her. “Have I a ... smudge on my face?”
she asked anxiously.

“No, you look beautiful,”
he answered simply, then decided that perhaps he had been too abrupt and hedged, “Walking brings a healthy glow to the cheeks, don’t you think?”

Felicia giggled. “I hope so. Is...is your mother better, Rowland?”

“I had a letter from my father yesterday, and he said she is recovering nicely now. I think you would like her, Felicia; she’s a bit like Uncle Nigel—generous and kind, but she means what she says. Worries about us too much, of course, but I guess all mothers are like that. She laughs a lot and doesn’t stand on ceremony.”

Her eyes on the ground, Felicia said softly, “She sounds delightful, but I don’t suppose I shall ever meet her.”

Startled out of his own train of thought, Rowland regarded her earnestly. “Well, of course you shall. Comes to see Uncle Nigel once a year at least. Not this year, I suppose, because she’s been sick, but certainly next year. Or you shall come to visit Dorothy.”

“I could not leave Mama here alone even if Dorothy wished for me to visit,”
she protested, snapping a twig between her fingers. “Mama needs me to assist with the shop.”

“Nonsense. You know perfectly well she does not even want you to go near it.”

“Yes, but that won’t serve, really. Everyone knows we keep the shop, so where is the good in pretending that I have no connection with it?”

“Felicia, your mother is trying to protect you.”

“But she cannot, Rowland.”
Felicia turned troubled eyes to him; here was one of those things she wished to discuss. “Why should I not bear the burden of the shop with her, when it does no good to exclude me? You say I must not mind not being invited to the Wickham ball. Very well, I have to accept that, but the reason for it is that we keep a shop, and if I am to be cast in that light in any case, I might as well be of some use to Mama.”

Rowland seized both of her hands and Felicia was struck by the seriousness of his countenance. “I am sure you are of the greatest assistance to your mother; it cannot be otherwise. But do not deny her the solace of knowing she is doing what she can to shield you from social distress. You owe her that much, Felicia, for it is difficult for her to see you unhappy, and it is the only thing she can do for you.”

“Does it...bother you, Rowland? That is...well, never mind.”
Felicia watched a tiny bird wing its way through the branches above, and did not allow her sad eyes to meet those of her companion.

“No, Felicia, it does not bother me, or Dorothy, or Cassandra, or Uncle Nigel, or Helen, or Matthew, or Miss Carnworth, or...”

A gurgle of mirth escaped her, and her eyes were shining when she returned them to his face. “No more, I beg you! You are all very kind to me.”

“How could we be otherwise?”

The look in his eyes spoke more than his words and Felicia shyly tugged one hand from his grasp. “Is the cave close by now?”

“Only a step,”
he murmured as he led her forward. During their inspection of the small cavern, the awkwardness of the moment before was forgotten. The dampness was not unpleasant, and the earth underfoot was no longer muddy, so Felicia inspected to her heart’s content, bubbling over with questions on its formation and whether smugglers might ever have used it.

“
Now
you have a smudge on your face.”
Rowland laughed as they turned to leave. He gently rubbed away the dirt while their eyes held before he took her hand once more and they proceeded back along the twig-strewn path. Felicia chatted about Lady Gorham and Cassandra in an effort to keep their conversation on an impersonal basis, and withdrew her hand from his when they came in sight of her friends seated beside the stream.

“I see you have not muddied your clothes, Felicia,”
Dorothy called teasingly, “but was it worth the walk?”

“I found it fascinating. You should have come,”
Felicia retorted, though she was grateful that they had not.

On their arrival at the Feather and Flask stables they found Hodges speaking with a soberly dressed man of indeterminate years, but he promptly left the stranger and came forward to take the mare from Felicia. She waved a farewell to her friends after arranging to ride the following afternoon.

Even when Felicia saw the stranger again the next day, first at the stables and later riding in the same direction as their party, she thought nothing of the matter. After all, she and her mother had not been long in Tetterton, and he might well be known to others in the community. Only Dorothy and Rowland accompanied her, as Cassandra had chosen to go driving with her mother and the dowager. It was a golden autumn day, and they again chose to ride north, past the Tooker farm to the meadows beyond. The horses were tethered in the shade of a gnarled oak, and while Felicia and Rowland stood talking beneath the tree, Dorothy wandered off to gather cornflowers.

A gust of wind loosened several brightly colored leaves from the tree and they floated down, one settling gently on Felicia’s head. “It is the same color as your hair,”
he commented with a laugh as he reached out to remove it. Instead, he stroked her hair, his eyes intent on her face.

He is going to kiss me,
she thought breathlessly.

“Look at all the flowers I have gathered!”
Dorothy exclaimed, arriving with her arms full of the beautiful blue plants. “We shall have enough to fill half a dozen vases.”

Rowland and Felicia, startled from their enchantment, turned rather guiltily to her and Rowland said exasperatedly, “How are we to get them to the court? They are bound to wilt quickly in this heat.”

“Not if we go directly there,”
Dorothy returned gaily. “I can have them in water in half an hour.”

With a slight shrug of his shoulders and a crooked grin at Felicia, Rowland handed the two ladies onto their horses before he ungraciously wrapped the cornflowers in his handkerchief and swung himself onto his mount. “Hardly out long enough to exercise the horses,”
he grumbled.

* * * *

Intent as they were on returning speedily to the court, the riders were not aware of the man they passed, hidden in the shrubbery alongside the road. This was not the first time he had followed them, but he was now satisfied with the information he had gathered and decided to return to his employer.