The Waltzing Widow (6 page)
"But the duke is not here. He is in Vienna, while every day Bonaparte marches closer,” Lady Cecily said. Unconsciously her hands cradled her large belly. “I do wish we were all safe at home in England."
The earl smiled at his sister. “You need not fret over Wilson-Jones, Cecily. He is a hardy fellow and not likely to let the prospect of a battle quail him, if it comes to that at all."
"That is precisely what does make me anxious. Reginald positively dotes on what he terms a good fight. He says that it makes him feel ten times more alive,” Lady Cecily said with a grimace. “I shall never understand the male mind. It is all so illogical!” The earl laughed and she threw him a look of disgust. She pointedly turned away from him. “And what of your son, Lady Mary? I believe you said that he is with the Fifth Division. Is he as battle-hungry as all the rest of these young officers?"
Lady Mary shook her head regretfully. “Quite foolishly so. At least, so I judged from his last letter. He was very disappointed to have missed all but the tail end of the Spanish campaign. This news of Bonaparte must have put him in fine fettle."
"We have not yet seen William, my lady. He comes to dine with us tonight, Mama says, and I know that he will have such stories to tell us,” Abigail said with a sparkle of excitement in her large blue eyes.
Lord Kenmare was regarding Lady Mary with an expression that was faintly surprised. “Your son is surely not old enough to be already a veteran of war,” he said.
"
I
do not think so, certainly,” Lady Mary said, laughing. “But William would beg to differ with anyone who dared say so. He has been army-mad since he was in short coats."
"William is turned eighteen and he is quite handsome in his regimentals, my lord, besides having a most distinguished scar,'’ Abigail said proudly.
Lord Kenmare smiled slightly, amused by her naive enthusiasm. “I am certain that he does. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of meeting your brother one day, Miss Spence,” he said.
Glancing at the clock ticking on the mantel, Lady Mary judged that their social call had been long enough, and she said, “Abigail, I believe that we have a few other visits yet to make this morning.” Rising with graceful manners, she and Abigail took their leave of Lady Cecily and the Earl of Kenmare.
Upon the closing of the drawing-room door behind her visitors. Lady Cecily turned at once to her brother. “Well! What an entertaining morning I have had, Robert. I was intrigued by the letter of introduction that Lady Mary had from Emily Downing. Such a glowing recommendation from one of known discrimination in her friends. I am quite glad that I was in to callers. I found her perfectly fascinating, did not you?"
"Who, Miss Spence? She is very lovely and very young; but fascinating? Decidedly not. I am not particularly enamored of babes-in-arms,” Lord Kenmare said. He bowed to his sister, a teasing gleam in his blue eyes, and said, “Though I shall naturally make an exception in the case of my niece or nephew.''
Lady Cecily threw a tasseled satin pillow at his head, which he easily caught. “Wretched creature! As though you do not know perfectly well that I am speaking of Lady Mary. I was completely bowled out when I learned that Abigail is her daughter. Why, Lady Mary could almost pass for Abigail's elder sister, so young as she appears."
"I beg to differ, Cecily. Lady Mary is too calm in manner and intelligent to be other than she is, and that is an extremely attractive young widow,” the earl said, flicking the pillow back at his sister.
Lady Cecily deflected the soft missile, staring up at her brother. A kindling expression warmed her eyes. “Ah, so you did notice!"
"Cecily, stop that thought right where it is,” Lord Kenmare said quietly. “You know how much I detest becoming the object of matchmaking schemes."
"But, Robert, you cannot mean to go the remainder of your life without remarrying. I said nothing to you for years after Madeline died, out of respect for your feelings and because I hoped that eventually you would cast about for someone on your own. But you have not given a single sign that you mean to do anything about it, and I can't help but think—"
"Pray do not think, Cecily!” the earl groaned. “Come, dearest sister, when shall you give up this ludicrous notion that I cannot be happy unless I remarry? You know perfectly well that I am comfortable as I am."
"Yes, I know all about your occasional companions, Robert,'’ Lady Cecily retorted.
"Now, I wonder, who can be telling tales about me out of school?” Lord Kenmare mused. His expression was at its blandest. “You really should not listen to gossip, Cecily, especially the whispers of the ill-informed."
Lady Cecily was goaded beyond endurance. “You know perfectly well that I do not pay heed to
gossip!
At least ... Really, Robert, surely you must realize that everyone is anxious that I am kept informed of your discreet progress. I am thought to live in dread of your begetting an heir and thus losing the title for my own firstborn. Such odious busybodies. It is quite a trial to me, I assure you. Yes, you may laugh! But if you had any feeling for me at all, you would marry tomorrow so that I may have some peace. I have often been so put out of patience with the nonsense that I have positively
hoped
that you have a bastard or two tucked away somewhere, and so I have said!
That
shut their mealy mouths, I can tell you!"
The earl laughed again. At Lady Cecily's reproachful look, he only shook his head. He rose and gently tweaked one of his sister's glossy brown curls. “I am most sorry to disappoint you, Cecily. But to my knowledge, I have no bastards. And I do apologize for being such a cross for you to bear. I had no notion that you suffered such indignities on my behalf."
"If you truly, truly loved me, you would remarry,” Lady Cecily said hopefully. Her brother's gaze was startled. She tried to keep a straight face but she could not. She pealed with laughter. “Oh, that was perfectly wicked of me, was it not! Pray do forgive me for teasing you so in such a horrid fashion, Robert."
"Indeed, I must, for I do adore you.” He smiled down into her eyes, then said firmly, “But not enough to wed Lady Mary Spence or any other lady only to satisfy your notion of proper succession, which, by the by, is a most unnatural one for a mother-to-be. Any other lady would be ecstatic to have her unborn child in line for an earldom."
"That's all very well, Robert. But you know that my dearest wish above all else is to see you settled and as happy as you were before. You see!” Lady Cecily spread her hands with an air of injured innocence. “I am completely unselfish."
The earl lifted his well-marked black brows. “Indeed!"
She smiled as she stretched out her hand to him. “Go away, dear brother. I wish to think private and forbidden thoughts regarding your future."
"You fill me with alarm,” Lord Kenmare said. He bowed over her fingers, retaining her hand for a moment as though he meant to say something else. But he apparently thought better of it. He merely smiled before he left the drawing room.
That evening mother and daughter waited impatiently for the arrival of their invited dinner guest. When a very young gentleman attired in regimental togs was ushered into the drawing room, both ladies leapt to their feet.
"William!” Lady Mary quickly went to him, her hands outstretched. But Abigail slipped past her to envelop her brother in a smothering hug.
The young gentleman emerged from Abigail's fervent welcome to take Lady Mary's hands. He bowed with aplomb. “My lady, you look exceptionally well,” he said, a wide grin belying the formality of his greeting.
Lady Mary laughed and shook her head at him. “You'll not stand on such ceremony with me, I warn you,” she said. In imitation of her daughter's exuberant welcome, she threw her arms around him. She was surprised and touched when his strong arms came up to clasp her close.
The silly tears started to her eyes and she blinked them back. She released him with a last pat and stepped back, once more mistress of herself. She made a production of looking him up and down while he stood grinning at her.
William Spence was a sturdy young gentleman of average height, with his shoulders broad and held proudly. His face was open and boyish except for the thin sliver scar that cut deep across his left brow. Lady Mary was pleased to note that her son appeared as pleasant-natured as ever. She had unconsciously feared that somehow his chosen profession would coarsen his sensitivities.
Her son had inherited her wide gray eyes and his hair was blond, not gold like Abigail's, but wheaten even in the candlelight. Attired as he was in scarlet coat and breeches and Hessian boots, a shako under his arm, he was the very picture of the best of English manhood, she thought with a touch of pride. “It is so good to see you at last, William. I believe you've grown broader than when we saw you last."
William laughed, his audacious grin flashing at his mother. “Put that down to the feed we fellows are getting. Mama. Beer, bread, meat, and gin are cheap in Flanders."
"Really, William!” Lady Mary laughed. “I am serious. I could swear you have grown a full inch. You appear to such fine advantage in all your finery, I assure you."
"Yes, you have become quite the handsome one, William. Or do you pad your shoulders with buckram?” Abigail asked, feeling her brother's upper arm with exaggerated curiosity.
He slapped away her hand and said with dignity, “Indeed I do not, brat. And I'll thank you not to inspect me like a cut of beef offered for sale by the village butcher.” Abigail giggled. She threw herself at him to kiss his cheek again. William tolerated the salutation good-naturedly and affectionately tweaked one of her gold curls, remarking that she had improved considerably since he had last seen her. “You've turned into a dashed pretty girl, Abby. If you weren't my own sister I would instantly fall at your feet in admiration."
Abigail blushed hotly at her brother's lavish compliment. “Oh, William, truly? Am I pretty?"
He pretended to study her judiciously, while she stared up at him in anxious suspense. “I doubt that there are more than one or two who can hold a candle to you,” he said at last.
Abigail was made speechless with pleasure.
Lady Mary had listened with amusement, but she shook her head in mock reproval at her son. “William, you must not encourage her so. Your sister is already as vain as she can hold."
William's easy smile flashed out. “Is she! Then I shall certainly exercise restraint in future. And I shall warn off my friends by saying that my sister is only passable and not worth their attention."
"Oh, no, no, William! You would not be so beastly!” Abigail exclaimed, horrified. “Why, I would not be asked to dance at all."
William laughed at her. “Silly puss. As though the fellows don't have eyes in their heads. I promise you that you shall never lack for dance partners."
Abigail realized that she had been the butt of one of his teases and she pushed him. “Wretch! I shall revenge myself upon you, see if I don't.'’ William immediately threatened her with a turn over his knee for her impertinence. Abigail squealed and put a table between them. “You would not dare!"
"Wouldn't I just!'’ William said, grinning. He feinted a lunge toward her and she squealed again, her eyes reflecting high enjoyment of her brother's company.
"A truce, I pray you!” Lady Mary protested, laughing. “Don't you think that we may go in to dinner?"
"Of course. Allow me to escort you properly, Mama,” William said, holding out his arm to her. He offered his other arm to his sister and proudly escorted both ladies into the dining room.
Dinner was a convivial meal, made pleasant by lighthearted banter and laughter and the familiar teasing between brother and sister. Lady Mary could not remember being happier, when she had the two people dearest to her heart beside her. As she glanced from her son's animated face, with its slender bones and the hint of down on his upper lip, to her daughter, whose blue eyes sparkled with unalloyed pleasure, she wished that her husband had survived long enough to see what fine children they had made between them. She found that she was content merely to watch their expressive faces and listen to their chatter. It was a scene that she knew she would always cherish—the candlelight shedding its soft friendly glow over them, the happy vivacious conversation, even the lingering aroma of roast roebuck and chestnut gravy that they had consumed for dinner.
"I hope that there is a war."
William's cheerful statement destroyed Lady Mary's contentment. She straightened in her chair. “I trust you are not serious. There is not a chance of it, is there?"
William looked across the table at his mother, surprised by her abrupt tone. “Why, Mama, everyone knows that we're going to go head-to-toe with Boney again. It is just a question of when."
Lady Mary was disturbed. “Are you certain of this, William? I had heard of Bonaparte's escape from Elba, of course, but I never imagined that it would mean war again. Everyone, surely, must be sick of war."
"There you are out, Mama,” said William confidently. “There are hundreds just like me who would like nothing better than to test our mettle against one of the greatest generals of our time. Besides, it will mean that I shall have my promotion in no time at all."
"I think it vastly exciting, don't you, Mama?” Abigail exclaimed, her eyes shining. “Why, it is just like out of a romance. William will charge off against the enemy and return triumphant, with the enemy routed and put to flight, and then kneel to receive a kiss of gratitude on the cheek from his lady.''
"Abigail, how you do go on,” Lady Mary said in gentle reproof.
"Quite right. As though I would be so daft as to kneel for some girl or other, whom I've never met, only to be kissed on the cheek,” William said scornfully. He arranged his features into a soulful expression and pretended to salute a lady. “My lady, I humbly beg for a token of your esteem from your own marble lips,” he lisped.
Abigail shrieked with laughter. Even Lady Mary had to laugh at her son's absurdity, and the conversation passed on to reminiscences of past Christmas charades and other pleasant memories.
