Alicia (20 page)

He could not believe that his own personal charms were great enough to overcome the hatred she must feel of a man’s touch on her body. A lopsided grin replaced his frown when he contemplated Lady Coombs’s reaction to his suggesting that she marry him in name only and allow him his pleasure with Colette. Somehow he could not think she would take to it kindly. But it was a possible solution and he decided to consider it. Not that he cared a fig for Colette, who was a very high-priced courtesan, but he knew his own needs and the proximity of Lady Coombs was not like to damp them.

* * * *

London was relatively quiet at this season of the year and Stronbert approached his town house as the lamps were being lit along King Street. The house, at the corner of Park Street, was of a dark red brick with stone quoins outlining the three portions brought forward. Stronbert recalled the first time his daughter had seen the building, with its classical portal supported by two elongated caryatids. After staring in amazement for some time, Helen had cried, “Oh, Papa, the poor ladies must be frightfully tired.”
Matthew, with the superiority of his advanced years, had proceeded to inform her that she need not waste her pity on statues, so Helen had counted the thirty-three identical windows on the facade instead, but had given each of the “ladies”
a reassuring pat on her way into the house.

As he himself was let in, Stronbert wondered momentarily what Lady Coombs would think of the house, with its black-and-white marble entrance hall and its dozens of elegant rooms. He relinquished his hat, gloves, and driving cape to the footman as he instructed, “A light supper in the library, Thomas. Is all well here?”

“Yes, milord. Shall I put the knocker up?”

“No, I shall only be here for a day or two and have no intention of receiving.”

“Very good, sir.”
Thomas strode ahead of the marquis to open the library door and put a taper to the fire laid there, then he quietly withdrew.

When a tray was brought in quarter of an hour later, Stronbert was seated in a comfortable leather chair staring at the fire, his booted feet thrust out before him. He thanked the footman, but made no move toward the meal for some time. With half a dozen commissions to execute in town for his mother, including the purchase of a pair of long white kid gloves, he could not well leave for the Court the next day in any case. So he walked to the desk and sat down to pen a note in his typical bold hand. If Colette were free the next afternoon, he would take the opportunity to visit her.

Colette was indeed free to receive him, and Stronbert regarded the vivacious little brunette with amusement as she struck a pose for him. “You see,”
she cried, “Emma Hamilton is not the only one who can be a poseur! Do you not think me the image of Venus?”

“A pocket Venus, perhaps,”
he retorted with a smile, regarding her diminutive form.

“Ah, well, maybe one must be taller to be a poseur,”
she pouted, aware that this made her dimples prominent. “I overheard a very fine lady once say that she found it difficult to take short people seriously. Do you take me seriously, Stronbert?”

“No, my dear, how could I?”

“Wicked man! Is it because I am short?”
she asked curiously.

“No, I shouldn’t think so. I have no difficulty taking short people seriously.”

“Really? But then, it makes no difference, mon cher.”
Colette provocatively twitched the gauze drapery she had flung about her. “Perhaps you could take me more seriously were I...less hampered with these robes.”

“It is possible.”

She wagged her head with mock despair, and allowed him an alluring view of her bosom by rearranging the draperies. “I know what it is! You find it difficult to take anything seriously all trussed up in that skin-tight coat and breeches. Nothing is so conducive to serious thinking as being unrestricted, I promise you.”

Dexterously she relieved him of these offending items, in addition to his remaining apparel. “There, I told you so. You are thinking better already,”
she announced proudly, with a swish of her draperies, as she vaulted onto the bed. “You must not try that,”
she cautioned. “When Sir Geoffrey did so the whole bed went whoosh-bang! This is a stronger bed, of course, but he had to pay for it, and I should not like the inconvenience of having to have yet another bed made, though I know you could afford it.”

Colette made room for him to slide into bed beside her. The problem with Colette, he thought ruefully, was that she never stopped talking. Her enthusiasm could not be faulted, nor her skill, but her talent for mimicry seemed to burst into flower under the influence of sexual excitement, and he was treated to Sir Geoffrey’s more inane maxims and Lord Clafford’s most daunting observations on Greek culture, all delivered in perfect tone of voice.

“Ah, yes, I like that,”
Colette murmured before quoting Lady Bufton’s comments upon spying Colette in Bond Street with her Scotch terrier. “And do you know, she has not the least right to complain of my Muffit, for I have seen her myself driving in the park with the silliest little chihuahua perched on her lap. And such a lap! Ralph Drew said...Oh, Lord...”

Momentarily speechless, Colette regarded him with enormous eyes.

“As you say, my dear.”
When he could tell that she was recovered enough and about to launch forth once more, he stayed her by placing a finger on her lips. “If I don’t ask you now, I fear I won’t have another chance. My nephew is coming to London and I think he would benefit from acquaintance with an experienced woman...and one who would not bend his ear, Colette,”
he said mournfully.

“Bah, everyone says I talk too much. It is not that I talk too much, Stronbert, but that sometimes I forget who I am talking to. Once I mimicked Sir Geoffrey to Sir Geoffrey! You would think that would cause a catastrophe, no? Well, it did not! He did not even recognize his own words, paperskull that he is. Now when I did the same with James Akers, he leaped from the bed, red in the face and still...”

“Colette. Do you mimic me?”

She cocked her head to one side and regarded him pertly. “You? You never say enough for me to catch the right inflection.”
Folding her hands demurely, she leaned back on the pillows and commanded, “Speak to me and I will memorize your every word for my next performance.”

Stronbert cast his eyes heavenward. “Give me strength. Do you have anyone in mind for my nephew?”

“But certainly. Mrs. Frazier is just the one. So charming, so attractive, and she used to be a governess,”
Colette declared virtuously.

“Perfect,”
Stronbert replied dryly, but his eyes acknowledged her mischief. “I must leave if I am to finish my errands in town and be off tomorrow.”

“I shan’t see you again?”

“Not this trip.”

“And do you not take me more seriously now?”
she asked with a grin.

“Only so long as I am unrestricted by my clothing.”

After Lady Gorham and Cassandra left Tetterton for Peshre Abbey, Alicia renewed her determination to finish putting the store in order. She suggested some rearrangements of merchandise to Mr. Allerton for his opinions. This led to a general reorganization that absorbed her days completely.

Felicia continued to work in the cottage decorating various bonnets and other items—slippers, parasols, fans. In addition she made the rest of the seat covers for the chairs and relegated to the tiny attic those pieces of furniture which were unsightly. Her rides with the Clintons continued daily, and she was a frequent visitor at the Court, where the dowager marchioness occasionally asked her to design a gown or day dress from some disagreeable material she had accumulated over the years. Felicia patiently rejected the materials offered and brought swatches from the shop which she thought more appropriate. The dowager usually gave in reluctantly, and Felicia would then discuss with Miss Carnworth what she had in mind and leave sketches.

When Stronbert returned to the Court, he found Rowland anxious to speak with him. The young man ran a distracted hand through his blond hair and said, “Felicia does not seem much easier with me, Uncle Nigel. She talks to me and rides with me, but she seems almost afraid to smile at me or to let me lift her down from a horse.”

“It has only been a few weeks, Rowland. She’s probably afraid of encouraging you. She is too young to understand that you would not take advantage of her.”
Stronbert sighed. “I have spoken with Colette and will give you the name of a woman to contact in London if you wish to. That is your own decision.”

Rowland did not meet his uncle’s eyes but murmured, “Thank you. I thought to visit London after returning home.”

“How is your mother? Is Dorothy anxious to return to her?”

“Mother is well and seems to miss Dorothy. I think we won’t stay above a week longer now,”
he said sadly.

“You are welcome here at any time, Rowland. Go to London and Bath. Your parents will be desirous of seeing you and I have no doubt you have friends in the neighborhood. When you tire of that, come back here. It will probably be easier for Felicia to mend with you away. She is going to be lonely when you and Dorothy leave, though.”
He sat thoughtfully silent for a while. “Perhaps we should have a party with dancing for the young people before you leave.”

“So that Felicia will meet all the young men in the neighborhood?”
Rowland asked bitterly.

“And their sisters, nephew. Would you rather she had no entertainment when you left?”
Stronbert eyed his relative gravely.

Rowland shamefacedly muttered, “No, sir, of course not. I want her to be happy.”

“Good. I will speak with Dorothy and my mother about whom to invite.”
Stronbert placed a firm hand on his nephew’s shoulder and said encouragingly, “As I said before, where the proper degree of attachment exists, it will last.”

“You do not think I should speak with her about how I feel?”

“It would be very unwise. I would simply tell her that I intended to return.”
Stronbert shrugged elaborately. “God, Rowland, you must act as you see fit. No one can make these decisions for you.”

“I know,”
the young man said with a grin. “But you always seem to know what is best.”

“Far from it,”
Stronbert replied soberly. His gaze wandered to the window for a moment before he recalled himself and said indolently, “But when I was your age I thought I did.”

Rowland laughed. “I used to think I did, too, before I met Felicia.”

“Fine. There is hope for you.”
Stronbert watched his nephew stroll from the library as he tried to imagine what he could possibly need from Lady Coombs’s shop that day.

Alicia experienced a moment of profound relief when she looked up from the thread drawer to see Lord Stronbert entering the shop with Miss Carnworth. It was ridiculous to endow him with magical powers, she scolded herself, but he had been gone and somehow she felt safer when he was around.

Stronbert did not miss the brief expression. He identified it for what it was and ruefully decided that it was better than nothing. His smile was relaxed, unconcerned as he greeted her. “We have determined to have a party for the young people in a few days. My niece and nephew must return to their home. I hope you and Felicia will honor us with your presence.”

“How kind of you. I am sure we have no other engagements to stand in our way,”
she replied, her eyes mocking.

“And I hope that you will feel it proper for Felicia to join the dancing. Dorothy would be disappointed could her friend not take part.”

“Why, yes, I could not deny Felicia such a treat. She deserves a chance to enjoy herself with people of her own age.”

Stronbert nodded his agreement. “I have asked Miss Carnworth to make Dorothy a new gown for the occasion. Perhaps you would help her select a fabric.”

“And perhaps Felicia would assist with the design,”
Miss Carnworth contributed bluntly.

“Have a look around and I will fetch her,”
Alicia suggested, as she gently closed the thread drawer. “I will be but a moment.”
She ignored Stronbert’s look of protest and left through the rear of the shop.

When she returned with Felicia, the girl beamed on Stronbert and exclaimed, “Mama has told me of the party! I shall look forward to it.”
Her face clouded then and she said, “But I shall miss Dorothy and Rowland. They have been so good to me.”

“And they will miss you, my child. I think Dorothy would like to pack you away in a trunk and take you with her,”
Stronbert said.

Felicia laughed, and Alicia wondered that her daughter could be so at ease with this man when she was still so timid with Rowland. Perhaps it was that he had comforted her when she was so upset, or again that she thought of Lord Stronbert more as a father. The thought made Alicia flush and she turned to Miss Carnworth to assist in the selection of a fabric. A sapphire-blue velvet was chosen and Felicia mused, “I have just seen the most delightful creation in one of the magazines, Miss Carnworth. It would have to be modified slightly for Dorothy because of her height, but I believe it would be just the thing. Would you mind coming to the cottage with me for a moment?”

“Of course not,”
the good lady replied stoutly. She turned to Stronbert and said, “Perhaps you have other errands to run, Nigel. I should not be above half an hour.”

“There is no hurry,”
he replied easily.

When Stronbert made no attempt to leave and the women had disappeared, Alicia turned to him somewhat nervously. “Can I show you something else, sir?”

“No. I will wait here for Miss Susan, if you have no objection, that is.”

“Of course not.”
She searched for some topic of conversation and settled at last on, “I presume Lady Mary is well, since Dorothy and Rowland are going home.”

“Yes, she has completely recovered.”

There was a pause and Alicia asked hesitantly, “Did you have a good trip?”

He studied her thoughtfully and replied, “I am not sure, frankly. The results remain to be seen.”

“A matter of business then.”

“Not precisely.”

“Oh.”
His gaze on her was disconcerting and she turned aside to replace a bolt of cloth they had been considering. “I heard from Lady Gorham yesterday. She had a great deal to say about the roads, but I gather they had a relatively uneventful journey home. I miss her.”