Rivals of Fortune / The Impetuous Heiress (42 page)

It was, however, four hours before it was even remotely acceptable to make a morning call, ample time for Cairnyllan's ebullient mood to evaporate. Though he stretched his ablutions and choice of garments as long as possible, he still had hours to sit in the library and consider how Alicia would take his apology. There was no reason, he knew, for her to receive it kindly. And if she did, she might well dismiss him forever afterward. Perhaps he deserved as much. But he didn't want to think of such an outcome.

Thus, it was with a set jaw and very upright carriage that Cairnyllan rang the bell at the Alston townhouse at midmorning. Admitted to the hall, and then the drawing room, he remained rigidly formal, his uneasiness disguised by this facade. But it began to crack as the minutes stretched out.

Alicia, informed of his arrival while still at breakfast after a restless night, had fled at once to her bedchamber. She brushed her hair, and started to change her gown, then buttoned it again with trembling fingers, and finally stood in the center of the carpet and tried to nerve herself to go down. She was being ridiculous, she thought firmly. This was a man she had met numerous times; they had dined, danced, conversed.

Yet since yesterday, everything was changed, for she knew now that she loved him. If he had come to continue their dispute, she did not think she could endure it. At last, however, she could delay no longer, and raising her chin and letting her eyelids droop haughtily, she marched downstairs to the drawing room.

Not surprisingly, the meeting was extremely cool. Alicia was distant and Cairnyllan stiff. When they had sat down on opposite ends of the sofa, a silence fell in which the mantel clock and the sounds of passing carriages beneath the windows seemed very loud.

Alicia grew puzzled, then tremulous. What was he about? Why had he come—to sit and stare at her until she fell into a fit of the vapors? For his part, Cairnyllan was commanding himself to speak and stop being an idiot. Yet words did not form in his mind. He gazed at Alicia, fascinated by her beauty and frightened by the thought that he might never see it again after today.

“Was there something you wished to discuss?” asked Alicia finally, unable to bear the silence. Her voice sounded high and unnatural in her ears.

“Yes,” he replied, tension making his tone abrupt and harsh.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“I have come to apologize,” Cairnyllan forced out.

“Apologize?” Alicia was so surprised, she could only repeat the word.

“Yes. You were quite right about the duel, of course. It was a ridiculous notion; I shall drop it entirely. And…” He faltered again, then rushed on. “I must apologize to you as well. I had formed a mistaken idea of your character early in our acquaintance, and treated you according to it. I…am sorry for the pain this must have caused you.” He felt this to be lame, but could not think how to better it.

Whatever Alicia had expected, it was not this. Her cheeks crimsoned as she thought of the occasion that had given him the incorrect impression, then paled when she met his eyes and saw the intensity burning there. Her throat was tight, but she must speak. “I…I was partly responsible for your mistake,” she choked out. “I was…I never before…” She trailed off; it was impossible to explain her feelings then, or now, to him.

Her confusion gave him hope. “I too have behaved in uncharacteristic ways with you,” he offered. “Yesterday, for example, I was inexcusably rude—more than rude. Can you forgive me?”

The memory of their kiss in both their eyes, they gazed at each other in silence for a long moment. Then Alicia nodded and looked away; she could not speak.

The earl longed to sweep her into his arms; he could see the trembling of her slight frame from where he sat. But he was still uncertain.

“Thank you,” he added, and searched for a way to go on. “That would seem to settle things between us,” he heard himself say, and cursed inwardly.

Alicia nodded again. He would leave now, she supposed. They would meet as before at the
ton
parties, perhaps dance, but the other dimension of their relationship would be gone. She felt a sharp pain at the thought.

I must either rise and take my leave or speak, Cairnyllan was telling himself savagely, but he did neither.

They sat very still through a trembling eternity, each filled with a burning protest. Things
should
not end this way between them after all they had been through. Then Alicia's butler entered the room.

“Excuse me, my lady,” Bates said, “but a footman has just brought this note, and he is instructed to wait for an answer.”

“Oh.” She took the folded missive.

Lord Cairnyllan stood. “I
must
speak…”

But he didn't get a chance. In the next instant, the room was filled with three small, yapping bundles of hair careening off the furniture and nipping at their ankles.

“Oh dear. Oh dear,” cried Lavinia Alston, running into the drawing room in a flutter of shawls and reticule. “Bess! Boadicca! Alfred! You know you are not allowed in this room. Come here at once. Oh. Alicia. Lord Cairnyllan. Bess get away from Lord Cairnyllan's boot. Now, madam, away!”

Gazing at the seeming carpet of small dogs about his feet, the earl smiled. But when he turned automatically to share the humor he saw in the situation with Alicia, she was looking unreasonably irritated. “Lavinia,” she said, “you promised to keep your dogs upstairs.” Alicia's bitter frustration with the situation had been transferred to the spaniels.

“I know, dear. We were just going up. We have been out for a walk, you know, and…Alfred! Off the sofa, sir, this minute!”

Cairnyllan lifted the offending Alfred off the cushions. He understood Alicia's reaction. Indeed, he himself was unbearably chafed by their estrangement. But he could not vent his emotions on this innocent older woman. His sense of justice, and the habit of years, was too strong. He made a massive effort. “What fine-looking King Charleses. I've never seen any so glossy and full-coated.” He tried to smile at Lavinia.

“But if you
could
remove them from the drawing room,” put in Alicia.

The annoyance in her voice made Lavinia start and scurry to gather her charges.

“They are not doing any harm,” Cairnyllan had to say.

“They will leave hair on all the furniture,” she retorted, “and they may ruin the carpet.”

“They seem much too well trained to do anything of the kind.” He did smile at Lavinia this time. She had reduced the animals to a silent row.

“They are,” she agreed, unable to resist defending the spaniels. “At home, they come into all the rooms, and they have never destroyed anything.”

“They have distinctive names,” added MacClain placatingly. “What was this one? Boadicca?”

A flush reddened Lavinia's thin cheeks. “Yes. I have named them all for ancient kings and queens of Britain, for King Charleses are
royal
dogs, you know. No one can forbid them entrance to theaters or any public buildings, by order of King Charles the second.”

“Indeed? You know a great deal about them.”

His interest made Lavinia expand almost visibly. “I am one of the foremost breeders of King Charles spaniels in England.” Her face fell. “Or I
was
. Before…that is…”

“Before you came to London?” guessed MacClain.

Lavinia nodded.

“It must have been very hard to leave your home, in that case,” continued the earl. “I suppose you had kennels and were very busy there.”

“Prodigious busy. But I never minded that, of course.” She looked proud. “I developed that shade of coat you see in Bess. It is known all over the country. The Duchess of Bedford has bought pups from me more than once.”

Alicia marveled. Lavinia spoke of her kennels just as other Alstons talked of Morlinden. But why had she never shown such enthusiasm before?

Lavinia was shaking her head. “It
was
difficult to move to town, but I felt it my duty. When one is needed…” She stopped and sighed, as if not certain about that need. “I so look forward to the day when I can go home.”

Alicia could scarcely believe it. She had not been at all pleased to have a chaperone, and she had assumed that the objections were all on her side. Now, she saw that there were other points of view.

This brief, incongruous interchange had affected her deeply, in her already sensitized state. That Cairnyllan, in their present situation, could kindly question Lavinia, and show Alicia things about her that she had not discovered in years, was astounding. And she suddenly saw that she had not been particularly considerate of her older cousin during their association. Concentrating on her own feelings and reactions, she had never paused to think of Lavinia's. Various examples of slight rudeness or lack of sensitivity occurred to Alicia, and she flushed. She felt herself wholly in the wrong, an unfamiliar sensation. And for the first time since the gambling incident at Perdon Abbey, she felt that Ian MacClain had behaved much more correctly than she. She had known for some hours that she loved him, but she would not have included the kindness and intuitive understanding he had exhibited just now among his sterling qualities. Now that she had seen them, she realized that he was more complex than she had thought, and even more admirable. She had seemed harsh and unfeeling in contrast.

Alicia blinked back tears. Everything was ruined. She could not speak to him now of love. He must be despising her selfishness, as she did herself. No wonder he had never wished to marry her.

“I must get the dogs upstairs,” said Lavinia, herding them out before her. “Good day, Lord Cairnyllan.”

When he had held the door for Lavinia, the earl turned back, feeling much less constrained. This homely interlude had warmed him, and he felt he could speak to Alicia now.

But Alicia, mortified, was unfolding the note Bates had brought with numb fingers, a defense against meeting his no-doubt accusing gaze. “It is from Marianne,” she said mechanically. “She asks if she may go to the Gerards' ball with us as your mother has gone out of town.”

“What?” Diverted, he took the paper from her and read it himself. “I was told nothing of this.” He stopped abruptly, frowned, then crumpled the letter in his hand. “Your prediction has come true. They have eloped!”

This broke Alicia's preoccupation with herself. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“Sir Thomas is gone out of town for a week. My mother has left London without informing me. She has never done anything of the kind before.”

“I am sure there is a simple explanation.”

“Yes! I have driven her into an elopement.”

He turned on his heel and strode out, Alicia just behind.

Cairnyllan objected to Alicia's accompanying him, but she ignored his protests, and he was too hurried to argue. They took a hack to the MacClain house, and Alicia waited in the drawing room while he searched for his family. It was some time before he reappeared. “Mama is indeed gone,” he said. “And Marianne seems to be out. I hope she is not looking for me.”

“Why not ask her maid?” Alicia suggested.

Nodding, he rang the bell. When the butler answered it, he said, “Will you ask Annie to step in here for a moment, please?”

The man looked surprised. “Annie, sir? But she's not in the house. She's out with Lady Marianne.”

“Oh. Well, did my mother leave any message for me?”

The butler shifted uneasily. “No, my lord. I understood she was to be away for several days. The gentleman said—”

“What gentleman?” Cairnyllan snapped.

“Why, the, er, gentleman escorting her, my lord. I have not yet become acquainted with all the London gentry, but—”

“She
has
eloped!” cried the earl. “And it's my fault. I drove her to it.”

The butler's mouth dropped open, and his eyes seemed ready to pop. Alicia rose and went to Cairnyllan, but before she could speak he said, “What did this gentleman look like?”

The butler described Sir Thomas Bentham.

“And they left yesterday morning, you say?”

“Yes, my lord. Rather early.”

“I suppose my mother had luggage?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Cairnyllan put his hands to his face and blew out his breath. “That's it, then.”

“Thank you,” said Alicia to the butler. “That will be all for now.”

Looking back over his shoulder twice, the man left the room.

“I'm sure this is only a mistake,” said Alicia then. “Your mother probably told Marianne where she was going and asked her to tell you.”

He shook his head. “Where would she go with Bentham? And just after they had agreed to marry? No, I see it all. Mother was so upset by my stupidity that she ran away from me. Probably she thought I would make difficulties about her marriage. Or—my God, of course!—she was getting him away from the duel. She thought I meant to kill him!”

“Lord Cairnyllan! Ian! That's ridiculous. Your mother would never think such a thing.”

“Oh yes, she would. You do not understand her as I do. There is something childlike about her, despite her years. She is very easily persuaded, and she has always worried about my temper.”

“Well, Sir Thomas would certainly convince her that her fears were nonsense, then.
He
would not flee London to avoid you.” Alicia spoke rather sharply; she felt his reaction was excessive.

Cairnyllan paused, frowning. “No. But he would have wished to save Mother from further upset. And perhaps he thought an elopement the best way for them to marry. A
fait accompli
.”

“Sir Thomas Bentham would never countenance such a scandalous plan,” insisted Alicia. “He is not that sort of person.”

The earl was becoming a bit irritated himself now. “Where have they gone then? Why was I not told?”

“Perhaps your mother wrote you? Why not look in your bedchamber?”

He stared at her, then almost ran from the room.

In the short interval, Alicia tried to gather her wits to persuade him not to do anything foolish. She had seen that blaze in his eyes before, and she knew it presaged trouble. Her own concerns were forgotten in this effort to help him.

“Nothing,” said Cairnyllan, coming back in. “I looked everywhere.”

“What about Lady Marianne? Where is she?”

“Out shopping with her maid. I inquired.”

“There! If anything had happened, she would surely not—”

“No?” He laughed shortly. “Marianne would be delighted at the idea of an elopement. I daresay she would agree to help keep it from me.”

Alicia hesitated. There was a grain of truth in this, though she did not really think Marianne would agree to anything so dubious.

“I'm going after them,” declared Cairnyllan.

“What?” She couldn't believe she had heard him correctly.

“I must.”

“But…but they have been on the road a full day. You will never…”

“I don't care.” He strode over and rang the bell.

“What are you going to do?”

“Catch up to them if I can. Apologize. And bring them back for a proper wedding. We can hold it at once.”

“But Ian…”

“Say no more. My mind is made up.” The butler appeared, looking avidly curious. “Have Traveler saddled and brought around from the stables,” the earl told him. “Ten minutes.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Ian, stop it,” said Alicia. The butler looked as shocked over her use of the earl's first name as he had over any of the foregoing events.

“The matter is settled. I shall see for myself what has happened. On horseback, I have a chance of catching them. I will take my leave of you now—”

“Oh no. If you insist on acting like an idiot, I am going with you to see that you don't make a worse botch of things.”

“Nonsense.” He turned to the butler. “Well, man, what are you waiting for?”

The servant went out, with deep regret in his face.

“I
shall
go,” said Alicia. “It will take fifteen minutes for me to change and get my horse.”

“I shall be at the edge of London by then.”

“Very well. I shall follow
you
as well then. Alone.”

They glared at one another, each thinking the other unreasonable.

“There is no need for you to come,” said Cairnyllan.

“I think there is. Who knows what you will do if you come up with them?”

“I have told you…”

“And I have seen how you behaved in the past!”

He turned away. “I mean to ride hard. You could not keep up.”

“I ride better than you do. Remember who fell at Perdon?”

“That was not my fault!” he began hotly, swinging around. But the reminder of that incident made them both think of all that had followed, and their anger died. They stared at each other, communicating without words, and each saw something cheering in the other's eyes.

“Oh, very well. Go home and change.”

She eyed him suspiciously.

“I will call for you, never fear. I could not travel with the thought that you might be straggling along behind me alone.”

“I shall be ready when you arrive,” she promised, and hurried out.

Cairnyllan went upstairs to put on riding clothes and throw a few items into a satchel. Shortly after, he was mounting outside the front door. “I don't know when I'll return,” he told the butler. “Explain to my sister.” And he rode off toward the Alston house, leaving the butler wondering exactly what and how he was to explain.

It was hardly half an hour before he had the opportunity to find out. Marianne and her maid returned, laden with packages, and when the butler opened the door and took some of these she asked, “Has my brother come in?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Oh good, where is he?”

The man cleared his throat. “I fear he went out again.”

“What? Why must he choose today to be away from home?”

“I
believe
, my lady, that he was somewhat upset.”

“Really, why?”

The butler glanced at the maid, then gave in to temptation. “He appeared to think that Lady Cairnyllan had, er, eloped, my lady.”

Marianne gaped at him.

“Yes, my lady. Very odd, I thought.”

The girl took a deep breath and blinked several times. “Come up to the drawing room at once,” she told the butler. “Annie, have someone help you with these packages. You may put away the things we have bought.” Her maid dropped a small curtsey, and she and the butler exchanged a brief excited glance before the man followed Marianne's rapid steps up the stairs.

In the drawing room, she tore off her bonnet and said, “Tell me everything that happened.”

With some relish, he did so. As he talked, Marianne paced about the carpet, frowning and clasping and unclasping her hands. Occasionally, she would mutter some exclamation, but the butler rightly took these as rhetorical and went on. When he finished, she did not react for a moment. Then she said, “When did he go?”

“About an hour ago now, my lady.”

She bit her lower lip. “What a great ninny he is! I suppose I must—” She broke off, thinking.

After a while, she appeared to reach a resolution. “Have the chaise made ready,” she ordered. “And tell Annie to prepare to accompany me. We will need our night things, I imagine.”

“Very well, my lady. May I inquire—”

“No, you may not!”

With an icy bow, he went out. Marianne stood still for a moment, frowning, then abruptly kicked the yellow satin armchair beside her. The act did not seem to relieve her feelings, for she next whirled and stamped out of the room.