My Lady's Pleasure (30 page)

She didn’t like it, though, and she couldn’t help but resent Lord Grantsbury’s harsh words.

“But he called me an ass!” she said plaintively, holding on to the last objection she had.

“Perhaps that was what the A was for, and it was someone knowledgeable after all,” said Miss Niven, smiling and blushing slightly at her own daring for making fun of her friend.

Georgiana looked at her in wonder, surprised that such a joke had come out of such a girl. And then she laughed as long and loud as she had in many days.

It was only when she stopped that they heard the knock on the door. “Come in,” Alexandra called, and Freddy did as he was bidden.

“What’s the joke?” he asked. “It sounded like an awfully good one.”

“Oh, it’s much too long a story to tell,” said Georgiana.

“That’s what people say when they simply don’t want to tell you,” he said petulantly.

“All right, then, we simply don’t want to tell you.”

“Well, at least now you’re being straight about it.”

“I’m always straight, Freddy; haven’t you figured that out by now?” Georgiana asked as she stood up. Her mind was still on her conversations of the afternoon, and she was in no mood for Freddy’s nonsense. “And now I will go straight out of the room and leave you to our good Miss Niven.”

When she was gone, Freddy sat down in her chair without waiting to be asked. He had hoped to find Alexandra alone but, now that he was with her, he wasn’t sure how to begin.

“I say,” he started haltingly, “my mother told me about the milk. You’re a trump for not letting on.”

Alexandra’s color rose. The milk and the note were not something she wanted to discuss with Freddy. “It wasn’t so very bad,” she said, and then did her best to change the subject. “Have you played more tennis?” she asked with artificial brightness.

“Tennis?” he said. “You gave me such a thrashing that I believe I shall give up the game. Unless, of course, you would like to give me lessons.” He looked at her with wide eyes and a meaningful expression.

She colored again, and began to have a sense of the direction this conversation was taking. But she would take him at his word. “Oh, I’m certainly unqualified to give lessons, but I should hate to bear the responsibility for your giving up the sport.”

“I would never hold you to account,” he said awkwardly, not knowing how to dig himself out of this hole. He didn’t come here to talk about tennis lessons. He’d never approached a girl in this way before, and he was finding that it wasn’t nearly as easy as he thought it would be.

“Devil take it!” he said, and plunged in. “Miss Niven, I think you’re the finest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Alexandra was startled at this declaration. Her mouth opened a bit in surprise.

“I mean, it’s not how you look,” he went on confusedly. “I mean, it
is
how you look, but it’s not
just
how you look.” He knew he was making a hash of it. “It’s just that you’re such . . . such . . .” He struggled to articulate what she was. “Such a good sport,” was what he settled on.

She had to smile. She had a sense that, in Freddy’s lexicon, “good sport” was a high compliment indeed, and she was ready to take it in the spirit in which it was intended. She wasn’t sure, though, whether he was making love to her or not. If he was, it was a curious sort of lovemaking. But if he wasn’t, as conversation it was more curious yet.

“I am glad you think me so,” she said with a kind expression intended to put him more at his ease.

The two were seated in twin upholstered chairs with a small table in between them. Freddy got up from his and sat on the table, close enough to her that her skirt rustled against his legs.

He took her hand. “I know I’m making a grand muddle of it,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “But I can’t help myself.”

Now she was sure he was making love to her. She was less sure about how to respond. Was this to be her second marriage proposal in as many days?

Freddy put her hand to his lips, and she had only a moment to decide whether this was a liberty she ought to allow. On the whole, she thought she oughtn’t, but a girlish curiosity to let the scene play out stopped her from stopping him.

Freddy tested the limits of that girlish curiosity as he took her hand from his lips and put it in both his own. He turned it over, so her palm faced upward, and ran his hand gently from her wrist to her elbow.

This was the first time in her young life that Alexandra had been touched in a deliberately provocative way, and it turned her insides liquid. Just a moment before she had been smiling at Freddy in a calm, composed manner, completely master of herself. And now, after such a simple touch, she suddenly felt a yearning the likes of which she had never known. It was as though there were a direct connection between his fingertip on her skin and the warmth and dew that were building inside her. Her body seemed to be asserting itself, separate from her, driving her, compelling her to answer Freddy in kind.

She felt the yearning, but she knew the danger. She had spent her life being prudent, understanding that a young woman in her position must be so. Although she had the benefit of noble and wealthy connections, she herself did not have the protection of high birth. A whiff of scandal could jeopardize her future in a way that she didn’t want to contemplate.

She withdrew her arm.

Freddy caught her hand, though, and held tight. “It’s possible that I imagine it with imaginings fueled by my feelings for you, but I believe you are not indifferent to me,” he said in a low voice, keeping his eyes squarely on hers. He was now in territory where he was more comfortable.

She turned her eyes away, but her hand remained in his. “Of course I am not indifferent to you,” she said, not wanting to commit herself further.

“Then you must not deny either me or yourself,” he said, and moved closer to her. He put a hand on her thigh, lightly at first, and then closed his fingers more firmly around her leg just above her knee.

She closed her eyes. She felt his touch. She heard his breath. She smelled his musky, male smell.

He moved his hand up her thigh and then up to her waist. He pulled her forward, away from the back of the chair, and with the movement she opened her eyes.

She saw his face, inches from her own. His wide blue eyes and his fine blond hair. The expression that combined passion and tenderness.

She had never yet been kissed, and Freddy was determined that he should be the first to do it. He put his hand on her cheek and leaned in.

He did kiss her, but on the hand that had interposed itself between their two sets of lips.

“You must not, Freddy,” she said in a whisper. “Indeed, you must not.”

“And why must I not?” he asked, but he recognized something in her tone that told him the battle was lost.

“Nay, you know why you must not,” she said hoarsely. And then, with more severity, “And I have been schooled to understand that a gentleman does not ask such questions.”

This stung, for although Freddy understood that he was more inclined to gentlemanly behavior when it was convenient and consistent with his interest than when it was not, he did not like to be called out on his lapses.

And this was certainly a lapse. He had approached a young lady of unimpeachable moral character with a proposition—unspoken, but a proposition nevertheless—that was most disreputable. Had he cataloged all he knew of her, and considered carefully whether this was wise, he probably would have thought better of his attempt, but careful consideration had never been Freddy’s long suit.

Resilience, though, he had in spades, and even a rejection and a rebuke couldn’t completely daunt him.

“You were schooled correctly, and I hope you will forgive me,” he said. “You must understand that I am acting under the influence of your very considerable charms, and my good manners are not strong enough to hold up under such powerful”—he searched for the word—“allure.”

She stood up. “Perhaps I shall see you at dinner,” she said by way of dismissal.

He stood also. “I hope you shall,” he said as he left, and his parting words still had a faint echo of the tone of intimacy he had assumed with her. “I hope you shall.”

She didn’t see him at dinner. She didn’t see anyone at dinner. She had tea and toast in her room because she felt she was too preoccupied to be good company.

She wasn’t angry with Freddy. She was flattered, and fascinated by the sensations he had awoken. Still, the way he had approached her cast him in a new light, and she couldn’t help but mark the contrast between his behavior and Gerry’s. Freddy had been a cad, trying blatantly to seduce her. Gerry had been a gentleman, professing his love and proposing marriage.

Could she ever feel the thrill at Gerry’s touch that she felt at Freddy’s? She wasn’t sure. What she did know was that she felt a warm glow suffusing her whole self, and she was sure it was attributable more to the older man than the younger. He had honored her in a way that touched her profoundly. She felt cherished. That, too, was a new sensation for her, and she thought it to be a more substantial and important sensation than the yearning she had felt with Freddy.

She thought about her two suitors as she sipped her tea and prepared for bed, and she knew without a doubt which of them was the better man.

T
he much-anticipated day of the masquerade finally arrived. The rain of the day before had exhausted itself, and the sun was out in full force, warming the crisp fall morning. It was perfect.

Miss Niven came down late to breakfast, and was glad to spot Gerry at the buffet, taking seconds on kippers. The house was so busy and so full that the odds of finding any particular person were long.

“Hello, Gerry,” she said, taking a plate and joining him.

He smiled broadly and warmly. “Hullo, Miss Niven,” he said. “Have you not breakfasted yet?”

“I have not, but I certainly intend to,” she said, surveying the table.

“The kippers are outstanding, and there’s nothing to start the day like a kipper, I think,” he said, reaching for serving tongs and picking one up. He held it out to her. “May I serve you one?”

Miss Niven had never been particularly fond of kippers, but she thought maybe it was time to give them another chance. “By all means,” she said, and put her plate up to receive the fish.

Gerry started moving down the table, stopping at every dish he thought Miss Niven might enjoy. “That’s a fine rasher of bacon,” he said, and added that to the kipper. Then there was toast, and beautiful scrambled eggs, and a slice of melon fresh from the Penfield kitchen garden.

By the time they got to the Cumberland sausage, Alexandra’s plate was already piled high, but Gerry wouldn’t hear of her refusing it.

“I’ve had Cumberland sausage all over the kingdom,” he said, “but never a finer specimen than the Loughlins serve.” He put a fat link on top of her eggs.

When her plate could take no more, he took a kipper for himself, and they headed for the parlor. As it was late, the guests had begun to disperse, either to enjoy the day or to prepare themselves for the evening’s festivities, and they found an empty window seat that could accommodate both of them.

Alexandra looked at her plate with raised eyebrows and a half smile. “I don’t know that I eat this much in three breakfasts,” she said. “I don’t know how I will ever get through it.”

“Oh, it’s not so difficult,” said Gerry. “First you take a bite of bacon, and then a forkful of eggs, and then some toast and some sausage. Then you do it over again, and before you know it you’re down to crusts and bones.” He took a hearty bite of kipper to demonstrate.

Alexandra laughed. This man was so very easy to be with. His manner was open, and his way was honest. She had the sense that there was nothing concealed, that she could learn everything important about him by talking to him over breakfast. His character was as straightforward as his proposal had been.