My Wayward Lady (13 page)
"Yes he was, and far too rich for my blood." Charlie grinned. "Buying him is one thing, feeding him would be quite another. What about you? I hear you have a place near Melton Mowbray, lucky devil."
"So I do. You must visit me there sometime. It offers one of the few rewards for being back in England and enduring this forced inactivity."
Lord Chalfont might have been speaking to the brother, but his attention was all on the sister. Lord she was a taking little thing! In that filmy shimmering material and with that vivid hair she looked like a sprite from some magical world, all bright energy and an intensity that made the other women in the room seem dull and lifeless. Adrian wanted to reach out and touch her and absorb some of that zest into his own jaded spirit.
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My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
The orchestra struck up a waltz and, without stopping to consider, Adrian offered her his arm. "May I have this dance. Lady Harriet?"
Now Harriet knew why she had endured the endless evenings at Almack's. Its august patronesses had given her permission to waltz and she was able to respond without hesitation, "Why thank you. I should enjoy that." They were silent at first, gliding around the floor enjoying the music and the motion together. Lady Harriet was certainly a tiny thing, the marquess reflected as he laid his hand on her slender waist. Her head barely reached to his shoulder and the hand in his felt like a child's, but there was a firmness and strength in the slim body and she moved with the grace and control of a born athlete whose life had been spent in rigorous exercise.
A slight cough awoke him from his reverie and the marquess looked down to discover a distinct twinkle in the blue eyes fixed on him. "Ah, er, I beg your pardon. I was..."
"Woolgathering, my lord?" She inquired with a laugh. "Not a recommendation for the attractions of your partner. If I were not made of sterner stuff, I should very likely go into a decline."
It was Adrian's turn to chuckle. "I apologize profusely. Now what was it that you were saying?"
"I merely wished to thank you for not betray—er, for not implying to my brother that we had met before our introduction to each other in the park."
"Aha. So the estimable Charlie is not aware of his sister's campaign to save Mrs. Lovington's ladies. I rather thought 119
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not. And if Charlie lives in happy ignorance of this program, I feel certain that the rest of your family has not the slightest inkling of it."
A vivid blush stained her cheeks, but the chin rose defiantly as Harriet replied, "No, they do not and—"
"They will not be enlightened by me, I promise you." Lord Chalfont smiled reassuringly at her.
"Oh, thank you. I—" Harriet began.
"On one condition," he interrupted her smoothly. Dark brows snapped together and a frown wrinkled the smooth white forehead. "And pray, what is that?" She demanded suspiciously.
"That you tell me why a lady of gentle birth who should have nothing more serious on her mind than the trimming of her bonnet is concerning herself with the welfare of the Temple of Venus's inhabitants."
"Of all the—" Harriet gasped in indignation.
"No. Do not fly up the boughs at me. I did not say
you
thought of nothing but the trimmings on your bonnet. I merely said that most young ladies did. I have seen enough of you to know that you are no such young lady. In fact, you are quite extraordinary, which is why I am trying to discover more about you."
"Oh." Harriet responded in a mollified tone. "Well, you see, I encountered Bessie one evening outside the opera and..."
"Bessie?"
"Surely you know her. She is one of Mrs. Lovington's ladies. They all know you so I assumed..." 120
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"You did nothing of the sort, you little wretch." He grinned at her, for he saw the twinkle in her eye and he rather liked it. No lady he could remember had ever twinkled at him, and certainly none of them had ever dared to tease him. They had all been too intent on winning something from him—money, jewelry, his name—to risk annoying him.
"Bessie is the blond one and she used to live in Thornby not far from Fareham Park. She was a dairymaid, that is, until the squire's son ruined her and her father refused to have anything further to do with her. She came to London and was on her own, practically starving, when Mrs. Lovington found her and rescued her as she has so many. The night I recognized Bessie she was at Covent Garden looking for other poor unfortunates who were in the same dire straits as she had been. I made her tell me where she was staying and the next day I went to visit her."
"All alone?" Adrian could not hide his surprise.
"I had my maid with me," Harriet responded a trifle defensively. "And I
did
disguise myself."
"Ah yes, the unlikely Quakeress."
"It was a very good imitation of a Quaker bonnet," she protested.
"But you, my girl, are nothing like a Quaker." Harriet opened her mouth to disagree, but he cut her short. "You are far too spirited, which is not all that unattractive, you know. It just does not happen to be what one would find in a Quakeress."
"And what experience of Quakeresses do you have, pray tell?" Harriet could not help asking in patent disbelief. 121
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"Touché." Lord Chalfont chuckled. "I admit I have very little, if any, but you have an air about you which could only belong to someone who is accustomed to ... er ... to command, shall we say."
"To getting my own way, is what you mean." Harriet shot back at him.
"Well, yes," Adrian conceded. "But as your way seems to involve doing what you think is best for others without a thought for its cost to yourself, I see nothing wrong with it."
"How do you know all that about me?" Harriet demanded suspiciously. Truly the man seemed omniscient.
"Call it the result of experience. I have led a life that has thrown me constantly in the company of a great many different men..."
"And women," Harriet supplied sardonically.
"And women," he agreed, raising a quizzical eyebrow. "And from it I have gained an ability to read a person's character within a few minutes of making his or her acquaintance. Yours, being something quite out of the ordinary, took longer than most, but I think I am correct in my assessment, am I not? You do tend to rush to the defense of those less fortunate than yourself without stopping to consider the cost of your involvement, do you not?"
"It is of no consequence." Harriet scornfully dismissed such a churlish attitude. "If one has made up one's mind to do what is right, why, then, one must do it."
"And in your case, it is without any hesitation, I'll be bound." He chuckled.
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"Delaying only weakens one's resolve," Harriet responded firmly.
Lord Chalfont shook his head in admiration. "Not only do most people lack the courage to do the right thing, they usually fail to see what the right thing is in the first place. I gather you are not afflicted with such convenient blindness."
"Not usually."
"And I would be willing to hazard a guess that this clarity of vision and purpose makes life rather uncomfortable for those around you."
Harriet had the grace to look slightly self-conscious. "I never fall into any truly bad scrapes," she protested. The amber eyes gleamed with amusement. "I can see, Lady Harriet, that you are a rare handful. I rather suspect that Charlie was not your companion in the park as much as your keeper. If I were your brother, I should lock you up."
"Of all the—you would not dare." She sputtered. The marquess laughed. "No. I should not dare, nor would I ever hinder the impulses of someone who has brought so much hope into the lives of others."
"Really?" Surprised, Harriet glanced up at her partner, but there was not a hint of mockery in the eyes that gazed intently into hers. "Why—why, thank you," she stammered, suddenly breathless. "I had wanted ... that is, I had hoped I was helping, but one never knows. I could simply be seen as meddling."
"No gesture that is made from the heart, as yours is, could be seen as meddling," Adrian responded gravely. "However, I know"—here the marquess looked slightly self-conscious 123
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himself—"from, er
talking
to Kitty that your visits mean a great deal to Mrs. Lovington's ladies. Even if you are unable to do anything to change their lot, your interest and concern have made a vast difference in their lives. They no longer feel so abandoned by the world."
It was Harriet's turn to look grave. Truly the Marquess of Kidderham was turning out to be the most surprising sort of person and not at all the irreverent rake she had first judged him to be. "I am glad. Their fate has been a cruel one. All women's lives are so dependent on male whims, and these particular women have paid dearly for it. There is little one poor girl can do to change the inequities of the world, but at least I can help those who have suffered from them."
"Oho. Then are you one of those terrifying females who espouse the teachings of Mary Wollstonecraft?" Lord Chalfont's tone was a rallying one, but there was a gleam in his eye that Harriet was hard put to interpret.
"Whatever one thinks of the question of the rights of women, one cannot condone deception and cruelty which is what the ladies at the Temple of Venus have been victims of." The gleam in Adrian's eyes was distinctly appreciative now.
"Very clever. So you will not say, my fiery reformer, how you feel about the delicate subject of the equality of women? My guess is that in your experience, most men you encounter are not only not superior, but considerably inferior to you." One look at her expressive face told the marquess all he needed to know. He laughed. "I thought as much. But then, you are a very superior person for a female, or a male, for that matter." 124
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The music ended and Lord Chalfont glanced across the floor to see his betrothed, now returned to her mama, regarding him in a most significant fashion. "And now I must return you to your family, but I wish to thank you for a most enjoyable conversation."
There was such a wealth of meaning in his tone that Harriet looked up in some surprise. Such seriousness did not accord with her previous impression of the devil-may-care Marquess of Kidderham, but then, most of their discussion had caused her to reexamine her conceptions about this man.
"You may stare, but believe me, I speak in all sincerity. I have not felt this inspired since I left the army. No one has spoken to me of things that truly matter since my days at Waterloo and I wish you to know how much pleasure it has given to me."
By now they had reached the little group that included Lord Fareham, Aunt Almeria, Lady Elizabeth, and Lord Rokeby. Lord Chalfont nodded to Lord Rokeby and his fiancée and then directed a devastating smile toward Aunt Almeria, who was frowning ferociously at him. "I count myself fortunate to have had Lady Harriet as a partner. It is so rare to encounter intelligent conversation anywhere these days, particularly in a ballroom. Do you not agree?" Without giving her a moment to answer, he continued, "And judging by appearance, which of course one should never do, I would say that it must be your influence that has made her the clever and informed young woman that Lady Harriet is. She does great credit to you." Adrian concluded this brazen little speech with another brilliant smile, bowed, and strode off in the 125
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direction of Alicia and her mother, leaving both Aunt Almeria and Harriet to stare after him.
There was a silence for a moment as Aunt Almeria recovered from such unexpected remarks and then she nodded decisively. "A bold young man, to be sure, but a direct and honest one—perceptive too." She shut her jaw with a snap and turned back to the argument over the significance of the Cluniac reforms in which she and her brother had been immersed since their arrival at the ball, leaving Harriet to her own considerably confused reflections.
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For Harriet, the rest of the evening passed in a fog of insipid conversation and even duller partners. Perhaps this was a rather harsh judgment of the inoffensive young men who tried to amuse her after her waltz with Lord Chalfont, for compared to the Marquess of Kidderham almost any man was bound to appear colorless. To Harriet's mind the marquess dwarfed everyone else in the room both mentally and physically, yet she still could not decide whether she liked the man or not. Of course she admired anyone as bold and seemingly unconcerned with the conventions as he was, but she could not help remembering their encounters at the Temple of Venus.
In the first place, though she was not a prude by any means, she did wonder about a man who was so intent on his own pleasure that he was a regular patron of Mrs. Lovington's establishment. Secondly, she mistrusted his provoking behavior toward herself. Why had he teased her so? Had he been goading her in the hopes of making her lose her composure so he could flirt with her? Had he been so unable to accept the thought of a woman who did not fall at his feet that he resolved to prove to her and to himself that he could affect her enough at least to unsettle her? Certainly that was how Harriet had viewed his initial behavior toward her. Now, she was not quite so sure.
She leaned back against the squabs of the carriage as they made their way back to Berkeley Square. Her sister was 127
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chattering happily about the evening: it had been a brilliant affair, a sad crush to be sure, but most enjoyable, nevertheless, and they had been in their best looks for she and Harriet had not been left to stand out more than one dance apiece. Lord Rokeby had been so pleased with their success, dear man.
