The Willful Widow (5 page)
It was while in London that she had met the head of the family, her cousin, the Marquess of Buckland, who was as uncomfortable in the ballrooms of the
ton
as she was. Forced by his mother to abandon his books and take his proper place in society, the young marquess had been miserable and had soon discovered in Seraphina an ally and a kindred spirit. When at long last they had both returned rejoicing to their respective homes in the country, the cousins had remained regular correspondents, sharing ideas and recommending books to each other. It was the marquess who, spineless in the face of his mother's determination, supported Seraphina in her continuing attachment to the absent Thomas. Soon after his grateful return to the country and his books, the marquess had succumbed to his mother's dying wish and married the younger daughter of a local family of ancient and illustrious lineage. Marianne, the new Marchioness of Buckland, was a sweet girl, but they had had little in common, and Seraphina continued to be the recipient of the marquess's deeper thoughts and interests. Their friendship by correspondence lessened only with the triumphant return of Thomas Walden, now Sir Thomas, fabulously wealthy and a man with powerful influence in the city. This time Seraphina had turned the tables, ignoring her 41
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parents as energetically as they had ignored her, and run off with her childhood friend.
They had been enormously content together, a happiness diminished only slightly by the lack of children. The advent of Lady Diana had been an event of great interest to Seraphina, and, busy as she was with her husband's active life and her own charitable projects. Lady Walden had kept up with the little girl's progress. She had shown such an interest in her that they had become more like aunt and niece rather than second cousins, and had addressed each other accordingly. Under no illusions as to her cousin's reclusive nature, Seraphina had done her best to see that her great-niece had some source of affection and interest, even if it were hampered by distance and infrequent visits. For her part, Diana was forever grateful for the marvelous toys and, later on, letters and books that had been showered on her. Any package that arrived from Aunt Seraphina was certain to be intriguing. And on the rare occasions when the Waldens did visit, she had reveled in the interest of the rather forbiddinglooking lady and her jovial husband. As Sir Thomas's vast business interests had increased, the couple had traveled more and more. Their letters and visits became less frequent, though none the less warm, and Diana had always felt the love and support they conveyed no matter what part of the globe they arrived from. Sir Thomas's death and Diana's marriage, occurring at roughly the same time, had focused both ladies' attentions elsewhere, but now on this fine spring morning, they found 42
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themselves gazing at each other again with mutual satisfaction.
For her part, Seraphina was no less pleased with her niece than Diana was with her. The promise of beauty last seen in the ten-year-old girl had been fulfilled, and Seraphina was highly gratified to discover that it had also been accompanied by an equal development of character and intelligence. For behind the deep blue eyes, which sparkled with curiosity, there was obviously an active mind that added to a charming manner. Lady Diana welcomed her aunt joyfully, recognizing at a glance that the arrangement that had begun as an accommodation to propriety was going to enrich her life and provide her with the human companionship she had never had.
Diana's first impression had proven correct, and as the days sped by, each of them discovered more and more to like and admire in the other. They read together, discussed their views endlessly, haunted museums and historic monuments, and made up for the many lost hours of youth each of them had spent buried in the country.
As time wore on, Diana came to rely on the older woman not only for friendship, but for advice. Sir Thomas had left everything, including his business interests, to his wife. Aunt Seraphina appeared, to Diana at least, to be managing it all with ease and a good deal of success—if the respectful looks on the faces of men from the city who occasionally called on her were any indication.
Diana was intrigued. Heretofore, she had only been familiar with one means of gaining a livelihood—through the 43
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land—and her experience with that had been by default, her father only serving as an example of how not to conduct such an endeavor.
Cautiously at first, Diana had posed an occasional question concerning her aunt's affairs. Aunt Seraphina, delighted by the genuine curiosity and interest behind these delicate inquiries, was more than happy to explain and expand on her activities, while her niece was astonished to learn that by spending money, carefully of course, one could make more money. Soon she began to read beyond the political news, recorded in the flood of papers and reviews that appeared in Brook Street, to the prices of shares and consols and the general tide in the economic interests of the nation. For her part. Aunt Seraphina was highly gratified by her niece's increasing enthusiasm. Knowing how poor a man of affairs the marquess had been, she had a fair idea of the dire financial straits in which he had left his daughter, and the few comments that Diana had inadvertently let fall had given her shrewd companion an accurate picture of Diana's precarious economic situation. Lady Walden wanted desperately to help the girl, but knowing Diana's proud and independent spirit, she had been at a loss as to how to go about it, until one early morning discussion of Lady Walden's business with the stock exchange had revealed her niece's eagerness to learn more about what many considered to be a highly speculative, disreputable, and even diabolical way of improving one's finances.
Now her path was clear to Seraphina. If Diana would not accept outright gifts of money, she was more than willing to 44
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accept advice, and Seraphina had set about teaching her all she knew. Diana was a quick and keen pupil, and in no time at all had mastered her lessons well enough to accompany her aunt in one of her discreet visits to the Stock Exchange. There Diana had purchased her own shares in the consols, which had then risen in a most satisfactory fashion while still paying out at three percent. This was all the more gratifying, as agricultural prices, which heretofore had been her only source of income, had fallen wretchedly.
Thus rewarded for her first tentative efforts, the young widow had plunged herself earnestly into study of the finer points of finance, intent on recouping her fortunes and restoring Buckland to its former state of elegance. Soon, Lady Diana Hatherill's heavily veiled figure became as well-known in the 'Change as was Lady Walden's, and her growing acuity almost as respected by the hardheaded men of affairs, who flourished there, as Lady Walden's.
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"What would not do," Aunt Seraphina reiterated, abruptly emerging from her reverie as Diana began furiously pacing the floor, Boney clinging to her shoulder for dear life as she made ever increasing turns about the room.
"
I
would not do," Diana muttered savagely. "
I
would not do for the Earl of Winterbourne's precious son and heir, as though the Bucklands hadn't been landholders centuries before those mushrooms began their toadying rise to the top. There is nothing I have to apologize for in
my
lineage." She halted her angry perambulations long enough to glare fiercely at her reflection in the looking glass.
"No," her aunt agreed, "but then, you do not set any store by such things in the first place," she continued mildly, her eyes twinkling.
"No I do not." Her niece sighed ruefully as she sank into a chair. "And if that ... that man hadn't put me in such a passion, I shouldn't even have thought of it. It's just that it's so unfair. I don't even
want
Reginald, but he
will
keep coming around. He is always so eager that denying oneself to him is rather like kicking a hopeful puppy. And after all, he is a good lad, if a trifle prosy, and a perfectly unexceptionable escort for two such widow ladies as ourselves. But it could never be claimed that he is the world's most stimulating companion. He does his best, poor boy, and it is entirely to his credit that he pursues his studies so assiduously. He is just not what one would call a formidable intellect. However, at the very least, 46
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he has more to contribute to a conversation than the cut of his coat or the way he ties his cravat. Now to be informed that I am bringing about his ruination ... Oh, it is beyond all bearing!" Diana leapt up and began pacing again.
"Never say so, my dear!" her aunt gasped. "No wonder you are in such a rare taking. St. Clair had the audacity to say that to you?"
"Well, not in so many words," her niece admitted cautiously. "But that is the meaning he wished to convey, all the same. I shall show him. I am not made of such poor stuff as that. Lord Justin St. Clair will see that Lady Diana Hatherill is not to be trifled with." Diana's chin had a stubborn tilt to it, and the blue eyes glinted dangerously.
"Oh? And precisely how do you propose to correct the mistaken perceptions of that gentleman?" Seraphina wondered. Having witnessed firsthand the energy with which Diana had thrown herself into recovering her fortunes, she felt certain that her niece was already formulating a plan to deal summarily with the interfering St. Clair. She would certainly be a formidable opponent. Lady Walden had not been long on the town, nor was she a dealer in the latest
on-
dits,
but even she was aware of Justin St. Clair's reputation where women were concerned. It was said that there was hardly a lady at the Congress of Vienna who had not succumbed to his charms, and it was even rumored that he had been a frequent visitor at the Palm Palace, using both the staircase leading to the apartments of Princess Bagration and the staircase leading to those of the Duchess of Sagan in the 47
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house that these two renowned beauties had been forced to share so unwillingly.
It seemed, however, that perhaps for the first time in his life, he was about to encounter some resistance from the fairer sex. And Lady Diana Hatherill was the one to do it. Seraphina had spent enough time as a guest in Brook Street to appreciate the rare qualities her niece possessed: a keen mind, boundless energy, and a resolution not often seen in most men.
In general Diana was the kindest of friends, with a delicious sense of humor and a ready and active sympathy for those around her, be they servants, scholars, society's starchiest matrons, or parrots. Even the irascible Boney adored her, though he certainly had little enough patience with anyone else. But when her niece's wrath was aroused, usually over some injustice—a mistreated horse, the desperate plight of climbing boys, the inadequacy of the poor rates—she was unrelenting and tireless in her efforts to remedy the situation. Well, Lady Diana was more exercised than her aunt had ever seen her, and this lady silently begging her niece's pardon for extracting amusement from her discomfort, eagerly awaited further developments. At the moment, however, the only development to appear was in the form of Finchley, who knocked on the door to inform his mistress that the cause of all her exasperation was eagerly awaiting her presence below.
"Oh, dear," Diana sighed, "I suppose you told Viscount Chalford that I was at home."
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Finchley nodded apologetically. He had nothing against Lord Chalford, a nice enough young man, but anyone could see that his adoration and his constant attentions to Lady Diana were a drain on her. Finchley knew his mistress to be kind-hearted to a fault, and she often suffered because of it. She was a busy lady with two households to run and her own interests to pursue. His young lordship, though he participated in some of those interests, had nothing particular of his own to contribute. As far as the butler could see, Lady Diana, always awake on all suits, was way ahead of Reginald. In Finchley's opinion, it was high time that someone else took care of his mistress. From all that he had seen and heard, she had spent her entire life looking after the men around her, and she did not need another such a one.
"Well, then I'd best see him." Diana sighed again, stealing a glance in the looking glass to restore the curl that Boney had pulled out of place, then, a resigned look on her face, she followed the butler to the drawing room.
Watching her niece's retreating back, Lady Walden echoed her sigh. How she wished Diana would find a partner worthy of her, but if she had declared it once, her niece had declared it a thousand times, "No, dear aunt, I intend never to marry again. I have had my fill of looking out after men—such helpless creatures as they are. It is time I looked after myself."
When Seraphina had ventured to suggest that perhaps Diana had had the ill luck to be encumbered with two rather poor examples of the male sex, her niece had merely raised 49
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an incredulous eyebrow and returned without comment to whatever was occupying her attention.
And Seraphina was forced to agree that Diana's latest and most frequent admirer seemed not to offer a great deal more than the other men in her life. Though far more responsible than either the Marquess of Buckland or Ferdie Hatherill, and far more attentive to Diana, Reginald had only a particle of her character. To be fair, though, one had to admit that he had shown some resolve in patently ignoring the wishes of his parent. Seraphina cocked her head ruminating—perhaps over time? No, it would not do. The Viscount Chalford would never be equal to Diana.
