Azalea (13 page)

"Is it possible that we have met before,
Miss Clayton? I felt when I first saw you that day in the Park that
you reminded me of someone, and I have been unable to shake the
impression." He spoke warily, as though expecting a rebuff.

"It is possible, of course, my lord," she
answered, seizing the opening. "Have you ever been to
Virginia?"

Lord Glaedon stiffened. "I fear not, Miss
Clayton. I intended to visit it at one time, but the ship foundered
in the crossing and my father, I regret to say, died at sea. I
could never bring myself to repeat the trip."

His tone was cold and emotionless, but
Azalea was moved regardless. She remembered how close he and his
father had been and realized that this must be one more grudge
Christian bore against Americans. For the moment, she ignored his
baffling assertion that the shipwreck had taken place on the
outward voyage.

"I am sorry, my lord. I, too, once lost a
loved one at sea." How, she wondered, would he respond to that? But
not even a flicker indicated that he was aware of her intent.

"The sea, at least, takes life without
motive or malice," Lord Glaedon replied after a moment. "So much
cannot be said of people who kill and degrade their fellow human
beings. Tell me, Miss Clayton, as an American, what are your views
on slavery? Do you consider it a 'sad necessity,' as I hear is the
fashionable view among your countrymen?"

Although his sudden change of topic
surprised her, Azalea answered without hesitation, for this was a
subject near to her heart.

"Slavery is 'necessary' only to the rich, my
lord, so that they can remain so. Money is a paltry excuse for
turning humans into possessions, and I am confident that the
majority of Americans —voting Americans —feel the same way, and
that the days of that reprehensible institution are numbered." She
spoke with conviction, but Lord Glaedon's expression was
cynical.

"How touching, to be sure," he said. "But
I'll wager you're not above eating the sugar or wearing the cotton
that slave labourers have gathered. And how willing would you be, I
wonder, to forgo any part of your personal comfort to change that
institution? I have heard such high-sounding words from Americans
before, but it would seem that words are all they are. Something
must be fundamentally wrong with the citizens of a nation that
would condone such inhumanity."

Azalea was struck momentarily speechless.
She felt as strongly about the matter as he did and knew full well
that many of her countrymen were hypocrites on the subject. But she
was furious that he should so deliberately choose to doubt her
sincerity.

The music had stopped, but he continued to
look down at her, waiting sardonically for her answer.

"You asked for my opinion and I gave it, my
lord," said Azalea with deceptive sweetness. "I see it was not the
opinion you expected or wished to hear. Obviously, you would rather
mock me than believe me sincere, since to do that would be to admit
that all Americans are not the heartless villains you wish to think
us. What of your countrymen who must serve in the Royal Navy
against their will? I don't believe America has a monopoly on
inhumanity. Or on hypocrisy and deceit."

With that parting shot, Azalea turned and
left him without a backward glance.

Luckily, the next dance was a cotillion and
afforded little chance for conversation with her partner. As Azalea
focused on the intricate steps of the dance, her temper cooled
somewhat, though she still deeply resented Lord Glaedon's
assumption that she shared the mercenary motives of the worst of
her countrymen.

Looking around at the outrageously expensive
splendour of the ballroom, she suddenly felt a desire to laugh.
Obviously wealth, and especially the ostentatious display of it,
was at least as important to the English ton as to any American! By
the end of the dance, she found she was looking forward to crossing
swords with Lord Glaedon again.

* * *

Christian watched Azalea as she flounced
away, struck less by her words than by the sweet seductiveness of
her hips as they moved beneath the green satin of her gown. He had
intended to discover more about her during that dance, in an
attempt to allay the disquiet he felt in her presence. Instead, he
had again been drawn into an attack on her homeland.

As she danced the cotillion with another
admirer, Christian was forced to admit that he was far more drawn
than repelled by Miss Clayton. Not that it mattered, of course. He
had already committed his future to Miss Beauforth and nothing
could change that. After the mess he had already made of his life,
he owed it to his family to marry her, a woman of fortune and
impeccable breeding. The marriage would bring to fruition the
honourable plans of his father and brother, now dead.

But for the first time since his betrothal,
those ringing, lofty arguments sounded hollow. Whatever his
feelings, however, he would stand by his given word. To do
otherwise would be unworthy of the name he bore, a name he had
damaged enough. Rapping out an oath under his breath, he went in
search of his fiancée to secure her for the supper dance.

* * *

On her way in to supper with Jonathan and a
group of his friends, Azalea came face to face with Lord Glaedon
once again. Marilyn clung to one of his arms and Lady Beauforth
rested a hand on the other.

After one brief glance at the Earl, Azalea
turned quickly to her cousins. "Ma'am, may I present a very old
friend of mine from Williamsburg? Jonathan Plummer, Lady Beauforth,
Miss Beauforth... and Lord Glaedon." She did not hesitate quite
long enough to be rude.

Glaedon's nod, however, was curt. "Servant,
Plummer. Miss Beauforth, my lady, I'll go ahead to reserve a
table."

Azalea nearly gaped at his retreating back,
but before she could exclaim at his incivility, Lady Beauforth
spoke.

"Mr. Plummer, how charming to meet you. You
knew our Azalea in America then?"

Marilyn had looked as though she were about
to follow Lord Glaedon's example, but at the sound of Jonathan's
voice, she hesitated.

"The pleasure is all mine, Lady Beauforth.
Yes, I lived in Williamsburg until my grandfather, Lord Holte,
insisted I attend Oxford. As he was footing the bills, my father
sent me off with his blessing. Since finishing, I have found
several reasons to prolong my stay in England." This was said with
a lingering look at Marilyn, who fluttered her lashes in
return.

"You must come to call on us in Curzon
Street, Mr. Plummer," insisted Lady Beauforth, all smiles.

Azalea's estimation of Jonathan's social
standing rose precipitously at this unusual mark of distinction.
She knew by now that her cousins were considered "high sticklers"
and were very particular about who they deigned to name their
friends.

She said as much to Jonathan as they
proceeded to the supper table where a few of his friends were
already assembled.

"Yes, I don't often invoke Grandfather's
name like that, but I wanted to be sure of seeing you often. I
thought it would be more convenient if I were allowed to run tame
at Beauforth House. What can you tell me of your fair cousin?" He
glanced over to where the young lady in question sat at a nearby
table.

He appeared vaguely disappointed when she
informed him that Marilyn was betrothed to Lord Glaedon. "Ah, well,
I can but dream," he said philosophically.

Just in time, Azalea stopped herself from
hinting that the marriage would not take place at all if she had
any say in the matter. Even after several years' separation, she
found it hard to be guarded with Jonathan. Instead, she followed
his glance, to find Lord Glaedon's eyes on her, his expression
unreadable.

Turning away hastily, she said, "Pray do not
get your hopes up, Jonathan. Even were the match broken off, I
can't think Miss Beauforth would care for life in the
colonies."

This drew a general chuckle from Jonathan's
set, and a lively discussion of the relative rigours of fashionable
life in America and England ensued.

At the other table, Christian continued to
regard Miss Clayton for a moment, admiring the way her green eyes
flashed and sparkled as she laughed with her young American friend.
Turning back to Miss Beauforth, he was struck anew at the contrast
between his betrothed and her colonial cousin.

Though Azalea was the elder by a year, a
fact which Marilyn had brought to his attention three times now,
she gave an impression of youthful innocence that Miss Beauforth
singularly lacked. While Miss Clayton seemed completely unaware of
her physical charms, his fiancée made full use of her own with a
sophistication that would have done credit to a woman twice her
age.

"You must try the ham, my lord," cooed
Marilyn at that moment, leaning far forward to afford him a
tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. "It is sliced so thin it nigh
melts in your mouth." She smiled seductively as she licked the
corners of her full lips.

With an effort, he smiled back. "I'm sure it
is delicious."

She tittered and batted her eyes, and he
realized that she took his words as a veiled compliment, when in
fact they had been no more than inattention. Mentally, he shrugged.
What did it matter, as long as she was content?

Though he strove to attend to the
conversation between Miss Beauforth and her mother, Christian was
keenly aware of the laughter from Miss Clayton's table. Much as it
irked him to admit it, he rather wished he were there instead.

* * *

Azalea reflected on the events of the
evening with a measure of satisfaction during the carriage ride
back to Curzon Street.

After supper, she had been engaged for every
dance, and not just with members of Jonathan's youthful set.

Several titled gentlemen, including Lord
Chilton, a dandified marquess, had also vied for her attention.

She had not seen Lord Glaedon again after
supper; from something Marilyn said to her mother, she gathered
that he had taken his leave early, a circumstance that had
disappointed both her cousins. For herself, she felt it was just as
well, as she wanted to prepare a few unanswerable arguments before
speaking to him again.

Her plan had not gone especially well, she
had to admit. She had intended to fascinate Lord Glaedon, to get
him talking about himself, to discover what lay behind his refusal
to acknowledge her. Instead, she had fallen to arguing politics
with the man.

Far from charming him away from Marilyn, it
appeared she had only deepened his dislike of her. Nor was she any
closer to solving the mystery of his escape from the shipwreck.
Even more alarming, she found that she was more strongly attracted
to him than ever.

But even had she found him
repugnant, she could not allow him to go through with his intended
marriage to Marilyn. Perhaps something
had
happened to make him forget
their wedding. Something to do with the shipwreck,
perhaps?

Whatever the case, she would not be party to
the crime of bigamy by standing by silently. She owed it to Lady
Beauforth, not to mention Marilyn and Christian, to prevent such a
thing. And somehow she would, even if it meant alienating Lord
Glaedon forever by pressing her claim. But first she would try
other, more subtle means.

No, she could not regret attending the ball.
Everything had been new to her, and Jonathan and his friends had
been more than pleasant. She had discovered that she could dance
without embarrassing herself, and had made dozens of acquaintances.
In fact, she had enjoyed every moment —even her argument with Lord
Glaedon. Especially her argument with Lord Glaedon.

All in all, she thought, as the carriage
rolled to a stop before the Beauforth Town house, it had been a
satisfactory first ball.

So why didn't she feel more satisfied?

* * *

CHAPTER 7

When she awoke the next morning from a deep,
dreamless sleep, Azalea was amazed at the lateness of the hour.
Why, it must be near eleven o'clock! She could not remember ever
having slept so late in her life. Junie had apparently been at the
keyhole, for she entered mere seconds after Azalea stirred.

"Well, miss, I trust you slept well after
your grand night?" she asked with a smile, setting a tray of toast
and chocolate on the bedside stand.

"Like a stone, Junie, thank you," Azalea
answered. "I must have been more tired than I realized."

"'Twas the excitement, Miss Azalea, as much
as the dancing, I'll warrant. A first ball will do that to a body,
so I hear. Now, have a bite to eat, and I'll be back in a few
minutes to help you dress. You're certain to have some morning
callers within the half hour, or I miss my guess. Didn't I say
you'd be a sure success?" she asked smugly as she left the room,
leaving Azalea to marvel at the speed of the below-stairs gossip
network.

Descending to the front parlour some twenty
minutes later in a flattering new gown of fine peach wool, Azalea
saw that Junie had been correct, as usual. Her hostesses were
already entertaining no fewer than five callers, four of whom were
among Azalea's admirers from the previous evening.

The fifth was a middle-aged gentleman
unknown to her. Several bouquets of hothouse flowers reposed in
vases about the room, she noted with pleasure. She could hardly
wait to examine them, as she was certain at least one of the
varieties represented was unfamiliar to her. Right now, though, she
must greet the guests.

Every gentleman present rose at her
entrance, and Lady Beauforth turned to beam at her. Marilyn, who
had been enjoying the undivided attention of the visitors in her
cousin's absence, offered a smile that was a tinge less
welcoming.

Azalea nodded to each of the gentlemen in
turn, with a light comment to each about last night's ball. Mr.
Gresham, she noticed, seemed content to resume his flirtation with
Marilyn after greeting her, but the others, including Lord Chilton,
were flatteringly attentive, clustering about her as she took her
seat. Before conversation could resume, however, Lady Beauforth
drew her attention to the older gentleman at her side.