The Bridal Quest (21 page)

"You offer a woman a cold sort of life," she told him, bristling.

"I offer a woman wealth, a title and an easy life. The only drawback in the arrangement for her is me, and I will make sure that she has to put up with my presence as little as possible." His face was hard and set, his eyes as cold as stone. He looked, Irene thought, like a stranger. "I can assure a woman that she will not be harmed by me nor smothered."

"No, only ignored," Irene retorted.

"Why do you care what my intentions are toward my wife?" Gideon snapped, anger flaring in his eyes. "You have made it very clear that you have no interest in that position. I would have thought that such an arrangement would have suited you admirably—being left to your own devices, with none of the inconveniences of a husband. But you have assured me over and over again that you have no intention of marrying me. So I fail to see why you should care what sort of marriage I have."

"I do
not
care!" Irene shot back, glaring at him.

For a long moment they faced each other stiffly, eyes bright with anger. He half turned away, then sighed and swung back.

"I apologize. I fear that I am very poor company tonight. It is no doubt best if I take my leave of you now."

He pivoted and walked away toward the house.

Irene watched him go. Finally, with a sigh, she followed him back down the path. She was annoyed not only with Gideon but with herself. She did not know why she had said the things she had. He had been right on all counts. She was not interested in marrying him; she had more than once assured him that she would not. It was, therefore, no concern of hers what sort of marriage he made for himself. She might wish that he could find happiness in his marriage, but it would mean nothing to her life.

Looking back on it, she could see the absurdity of their conversation. She had been presenting him with exactly the sort of arguments that her mother and others had pressed on her for years. How many times had she heard that marriage was a true union of souls? How often had people assured her that her husband would provide her with happiness and love for the remainder of her life? She had always scoffed at such statements. Yet today she had been spouting the very same sort of pap to him.

Could it be, she wondered, that deep down inside she really believed those romantic notions about love and marriage? She did not. She
could
not. Yes, this afternoon, she had been in something of a turmoil after her talk with Gideon in the garden. He had perhaps shaken her resolve, made her wonder for a while if she was somehow making a mistake in rejecting him.

But that was just momentary nonsense, she reminded herself. She knew what marriage was really like. No, she did not believe those things she had said to him. She had simply been trying to comfort him in a time of distress, trying to make him feel better. So she had told him the first thing that had come into her head; she had told him what she wished were true.

Irene came to a halt, struck by that thought. She would not have suspected that such a longing lived in her, but now she could see that it did. She had been too practical, too realistic, to believe in some rosy vision of love and partnership. But deep down inside her, hadn't she wished that such a thing could actually exist? Was there a hunger in her for that sort of love—a hunger that Gideon had awakened?

She sank onto a stone bench that lay beside the garden path, her legs suddenly shaky beneath her. She felt as if she no longer knew herself. She had always been so sure. So right. She had, she knew, even felt a trifle smug that she was not as weak as other women.

But what if it was not that she was strong in her convictions but merely that she had never met a man who could make her feel the way Gideon did? So giddy and excited and fluttering with life?

Irene put her hand against her stomach, almost as if she could hold in the turmoil that bubbled inside her. She liked the way she felt when Gideon kissed her; it was wonderful in a way she had never known, never even dreamed of. But it was scary, as well. Where would that desire lead? Surely she could not go against everything she had believed for all these years just because she suddenly had this hunger inside her.

Even if she had had a secret wish that love could bloom in a marriage, what did that matter? She knew that it was nothing but a wish, a hope. It was not real. If she had needed any reminder of that, she had just received it from Gideon himself, who held out an offer of marriage so cool and indifferent that it could freeze even the most hopeful heart.

No, even if her feelings might have changed, the truth of the matter remained the same. Marriage was a trap for a woman, and wavering in that belief would lead to a lifetime of regret.

She realized that she had been behaving as foolishly as any of the women whom she had criticized in the past. But at least she knew better and could stop behaving in this foolish manner. However much she might feel sympathy for the man, however much she might enjoy talking with him, she was no longer going to indulge in any dangerously lax behavior. There would be no more long walks with him in the garden or flirtations with him as they danced.

She was here to help Gideon find a suitable wife. The women in question would be arriving the day after tomorrow. And she was going to concern herself only with making sure that one of them became the next Countess of Radbourne.

Irene nodded sharply, as though she had made a point to someone who opposed her, and stood up. There was an odd little ache deep in her chest that she was determined to ignore. It would go away soon, after all, and she would concentrate on doing what she had come here to do. Back straight, shoulders squared, she strode back to the house.

The house was in a turmoil the next day. Gideon left for the estate manager's office immediately after breakfast and was gone the remainder of the day. His absence excused Francesca and Irene from their usual dancing lessons, which meant that they were free to turn their attention to the upcoming party.

It was a good thing, Irene decided, for no one else in the house seemed able to do so. Gideon's grandmother took to her bed with a fit of the vapors. Her maid refused to let anyone in, but of course Lady Odelia eventually bullied the poor woman into submission and went in to talk to Pansy. However, since it was Lady Odelia's harsh assessment of the way Pansy and her son had dealt with what happened twenty-seven years earlier that had originally sent the delicate woman into hysterics, Lady Odelia's presence did little to improve the situation.

The younger Lady Radbourne was also suffering from a fit of nerves brought about by the news. She kept bursting into tears and moaning that she should never have married Cecil. Even the redoubtable Lady Odelia was clearly shaken by the situation.

It took all of Lady Claire's considerable skills at soothing fears and placating ruffled tempers to keep the three of them somewhat calm. Therefore, all the last-minute details of the large house party fell to Francesca and Irene. There were vases to fill and place cards to write out in elegant copperplate cursive, plans to be finalized for the ball, questions from harried servants to be answered, menus to be approved and changed, and of course, the swarm of problems that always seemed to arise at the final moment.

It was not until late in the afternoon that Irene managed to pry Francesca away from the housekeeper's clutches and lead her out for a restorative stroll about the gardens.

"Thank goodness you lured me away from the house," Francesca said with a sigh, linking her arm through Irene's and turning her face up, as though to drink in the warm sun. "Such a to-do. Of course, it couldn't have come at a worse time, with all the guests arriving tomorrow. And it is all the worse because I am not familiar with the house and servants. Horroughs, I think, absolutely delights in coming up with reasons why one thing or another cannot be done."

"You handled him far better than I would have, I can assure you," Irene told her.

Francesca smiled. "I have had practice. Our butler at the Haughston country house was much the same way. I was so very glad that he went with the entailed estate to Lord Haughston's heir."

Irene chuckled. "You make it sound as if he was tied to the land."

"He was the sort who practically was," Francesca resorted. "He was always saying, 'But that is not the way we do things at the Hall, my lady'. One would think that he had been there since the first Lord Haughston laid the first stone of it." She rolled her eyes. "I want to thank you for doing so much to help."

"I fear copying out names on place cards and arranging flowers is little enough," Irene replied with a smile. "And I have had plenty of time for it, since Gideon seems to have called quits to his lessons."

"I am sure he was overset by the news." Francesca shook her head. "It must have been a dreadful shock to him. Did you talk to him?"

"I talked to him, but it did little good. It was a shock, but he was very stony about it all."

"After being with Teresa these past two hours, I think stony would be a welcome relief. I never dreamed that she could turn out to be such a watering pot."

Irene rolled her eyes. "She was not even involved in the matter."

"Yes, but she is worried that this revelation has thrown her own marriage into question."

Irene shrugged. "I imagine she is right to be. If the first Lady Radbourne was not kidnapped but ran off with a lover, the possibilities are good that she is still alive. And if she is alive, then Lord Radbourne was not really free to marry Teresa."

"Exactly. And if so, poor Timothy is illegitimate and would not be Gideon's heir. It would be quite a comedown for Lady Teresa."

"Of course," Irene reasoned, "Lord Cecil did have Gideon's mother declared dead. He went through the legal process. And she had been gone all those years."

"Certainly he could have obtained a divorce, I would think, due to her desertion," Francesca agreed. "But what Lady Odelia said—which, of course, quite set Teresa off again—is that if Lord Cecil knew that Selene was probably still alive, then he may have committed fraud by petitioning the court to declare her dead. He would have had to swear that he thought her dead, wouldn't you think?"

"I suppose." Irene shook her head. "It certainly is a tangle. I even feel faintly sorry for Lady Teresa."

"I feel sorry for poor Pansy. Lady Odelia rang such a peal over her head!"

Irene grimaced. "I can understand Lady Odelia's irritation. Gideon's father and grandmother seem to me to have handled the whole thing most incompetently."

Francesca nodded. "Apparently, from what Lady Odelia says, Lord Cecil was the sort of man who always acted first and thought later. And Pansy is the most indecisive and weak-willed of people."

"Understandable, I suppose, having grown up under Lady Odelia's thumb," Irene put in.

"Yes, who can blame the poor woman? All the Lilles I have ever known are strong and commanding. They nearly always get their way, and when they clash, it can be horrid." Francesca gave an elaborate shudder. "I imagine that poor Lady Pansy got utterly ground into dust by the rest of them."

They had circled the central portion of the gardens and turned back to the house as they talked. Francesca sighed and looked up at the terrace before them.

"I suppose we should return," she said without any enthusiasm.

Irene nodded. "Yes. I have several more cards to write out before it is time for supper."

Francesca looked at her, then said, "What about you, Irene? Are you ... all right?"

"Yes, of course." Irene smiled firmly at her. "The news was startling, but after all, it did not really concern me."

"It concerns Lord Radbourne, so ..."

Irene shrugged. "Yes, but that affects me only in a peripheral way. Actually, his leaving the house today was a blessing. It gave us more time to deal with the other problems."

Francesca's brows drew together as she studied Irene, and Irene thought she would have pursued the matter, but at that moment they walked through the back door into the hallway and were stopped by the sound of raised voices.

A man's low rumble sounded from behind the closed door of the nearby small drawing room, rising to a loud, "Impossible!"

His words were followed by the sound of a woman's tearful rejoinder, though her more softly spoken words were difficult to understand.

Francesca and Irene glanced at each other uncertainly. It was an awkward situation, and neither was sure whether it would be better to retreat back onto the terrace and wait for an end to the argument or to slip down the hallway as quietly as possible in the hopes that they could get past before the door was opened. For a moment they hung there indecisively as the indistinguishable clash of voices went on.

"No!" the man's voice rang out. There was more rumbling, then, "—don't believe it!"

Irene glanced at her friend and nodded toward the other end of the hall. Francesca nodded, and they hurried forward as silently as they could. They had almost reached the foyer when the door to the drawing room crashed open.

Irene jumped at the noise, whirling around instinctively. A man strode out of the drawing room, glowering. Irene recognized him as Gideon's uncle, Jasper.

Behind him, through the open door, a woman's voice cried, "How do you know? You weren't even here! You had hared off to join the army."

Jasper swung back to the room, biting out, "No, I wasn't here, and I will always regret it! I would have found them and brought them back!"

He turned back to walk away, and for the first time looked up the hall to where Irene and Francesca stood, frozen in embarrassment. He pulled up short.

He let out a soft exclamation under his breath, and for a moment he stood, struggling to gain control of his anger. Finally he let out a sigh and bowed his head toward them. "Ladies. Please forgive me."

Pansy came to the doorway, wringing a handkerchief between her hands. Her eyes were red from crying, tears streaked her face, and she looked even more fragile than normal, as if a good gust of wind would topple her. "Oh!" she gasped when she saw the other women. "Oh, dear."

She brought her handkerchief up to dab at her eyes. "Jasper ..."

"Yes, Mother. I know. Ladies, I apologize for creating a scene."

He half turned back toward Pansy, not quite looking at her as he went on. "Mother, I hope you will forgive me. The news was ... a shock." His lips tightened, and then, as though he could not restrain himself, he added, "But you were wrong."

He looked back to Irene and Francesca, saying, "I never knew a better woman or mother than Cecil's wife. I am certain she did not run away. And she would never have abandoned her child."

With those words, he turned and strode past them out the front door.

His mother tottered into the hall, still dabbing at her tears.

"Jasper ..." When he did not respond, she looked at Francesca and Irene.

"He doesn't understand," she told them mournfully. "He just doesn't realize what a scandal it would have been."

* * * * *

The guests began to arrive the next day, and nearly all of Irene's time was taken up with helping Francesca deal with them, as Gideon's grandmother insisted on keeping to her room despite Lady Odelia's best efforts to make her come down to greet their guests. Lady Teresa did come down to the drawing room, but it was soon apparent that, despite her earlier haughty manner, she was ill-prepared for a party such as this. She knew none of the arrivals, and she seemed somewhat overwhelmed at greeting a large number of blue-blooded guests. She was silent beyond a few commonplaces about the weather, and if asked a question, she quickly referred it to Francesca or Irene.

The first guest to arrive had actually been Gideon's friend. Piers Aldenham. As fair as Gideon was dark, he was slender and elegantly dressed, and when Horroughs, a look of disapproval writ plain upon his narrow features, ushered Piers into the drawing room, Aldenham swept a very creditable bow to the ladies of the house.

"It is an honor to meet you," he said with a winning smile. "As well as a pleasure. I must take my friend Gideon to task. He did not prepare me for the beauty of the ladies I would meet here. I am overwhelmed."

"Nor did he inform us of how smoothly you could talk," Irene replied with a smile, liking his merry grin and his complete lack of self-consciousness. Here was obviously a man who felt at home wherever he was.

"No doubt I wax more eloquent around fair ladies," he told her.

"Piers!" Gideon strode into the drawing room, smiling broadly. "Never tell me you got up early enough to make it here by this hour."

"Gideon!" Piers turned and clapped his friend on the shoulders, shaking the hand Gideon offered him. "I can assure you that I did not. I got in too late yesterday evening to call on you. I went straight to the inn and fell into bed."

"I shall send one of the grooms down to the inn to get your bags."

Piers shook his head, grinning. "Nonsense. I'm quite content there. 'Tis a very good room."

"Don't be absurd. Of course you will stay here."

Piers' gaze flickered toward the women in the room. "You may have been raised without a mother and sisters, my friend, but I was not. I can tell you that a last-minute guest throws all their plans into a terrible state, and they will hate both of us for it."

Irene saw the crease between Gideon's brows. She felt sure that he suspected, as she did, that his friend was staying at the inn in order to lessen Gideon's conflict with his relatives. It made her respect the man. However, she was also certain that Gideon would not be well-pleased with Piers doing so. Besides, at the present time, given what he had learned, Gideon was in need of every friend he had.

"Oh, no, Mr. Aldenham, you wrong us," Irene put in lightly. "We are more capable than that. We already have a room made up for you." That much was true. She herself had made sure that the room was ready for Aldenham's arrival.

Piers smiled at her, surprised. "You are kind and efficient, as well as beautiful, my lady. Still, I think it would be unpardonably rude of me."

"It is not rude of you at all," she rejoined. "The late notification of your arrival must be laid at Lord Radbourne's door, so if there is any rudeness, it is entirely his, and I can assure you that we are all quite accustomed to Lord Radbourne's rudeness."

Piers let out a bark of laughter. "All right, then. You have convinced me, my lady. Send for my bags, Gid."

"Of course." Gideon glanced at Irene, and for an instant the harsh look his face had worn the past day was gone, replaced by a flash of warm gratitude. Then his expression returned to its cool indifference, and he turned away. "Come. Piers, I will show you about the place. If you will excuse us, ladies?"

Piers favored them all with another grin and a bow, and the two men left the room.

"Well!" Lady Odelia said. "A well set-up young man, I must say."