Azalea (27 page)

Christian did
not
come.

While Azalea considered his absence a
definite setback to her plans, Marilyn did not appear to notice it
at all. This was likely because Jonathan arrived early, then stayed
for tea. He was to go to his grandfather's for a few days on the
morrow, and clearly wished to spend as much time as possible with
Marilyn before leaving.

Lady Dinsmore called as well, fairly
bubbling over with congratulations on her friend's betrothal. She,
it appeared, did not neglect the social news.

"My dearest Azalea, I had no idea!" she
exclaimed upon her arrival. "Did all of this occur while I was gone
over Christmas? I would have liked to have been the first to
congratulate you, but of that I despair."

"No fear, Barbara," said Azalea wryly. "You
are indeed the first, not counting Cousin Alice, but I am afraid
congratulations are somewhat out of order. You see, there is no
actual betrothal, and I expect a retraction to be printed on the
morrow."

Lady Dinsmore looked confused. "Do you mean
it was a hoax? You are not betrothed to Lord Drowling after
all?"

"Yes, a hoax," answered Azalea, having
decided that this would be the easiest explanation. "Lord Drowling
has not even offered for me, much less been accepted. So please, if
you would be so kind, if you hear anyone else speaking of it, let
them know it is all a misunderstanding."

Lady Dinsmore agreed good-naturedly,
although she still seemed a little puzzled, and turned the talk to
poor Empress Josephine's famed rose gardens at Malmaison.

"I vow, I am dying to see the new tea roses
from China, which reportedly bloom nearly all year round —and the
centifolias smell like a bit of heaven, I hear." Their conversation
revolved about this and other botanical matters until Jonathan
managed to break in several minutes later.

"What did I hear you saying about a
'misunderstanding' a few minutes ago, 'Zalea?" he asked with
interest. "Did someone actually put a betrothal announcement in the
paper as a joke? Pretty poor taste, if you ask me."

She quietly agreed, but tried to convey with
her eyes that she wished to speak to him later. Unfortunately,
Jonathan had already turned back to Marilyn and missed her unspoken
plea.

At least
he
is not ready to
believe the worst of me,
Azalea thought,
vaguely comforted in spite of Christian's absence.

Throughout the afternoon and evening,
several notes of congratulation and good wishes were delivered to
her, some accompanied by flowers, as well as a syrupy-sweet poem
from Lord Chilton, declaring his heart to be broken.

Lady Beauforth had been
right, it appeared, and Azalea finally began to realize how awkward
her situation was. When the
Gazette
was delivered that evening, she eagerly turned to
the Society news. Another announcement of her fictitious betrothal
appeared there, but no retraction.

She crushed the pages between her hands in
frustration. Now she would no doubt have another round of
congratulations to fend off.

Why
hadn't Christian come to call?

* * *

Though he had already done so once that day,
Christian decided to ride again before nuncheon. He had an
extraordinary excess of energy, he found, and needed an outlet. As
it was well past noon, the Park was more crowded than it was when
he took his usual morning ride. He was forced to keep Sultan to a
brisk trot, exchanging cheery greetings with acquaintances he
encountered.

"Well met, Glaedon!" called Lord Chilton at
one point, turning his roan gelding to trot alongside.

"Servant, Chilton," said Christian
pleasantly to the older man. He had never particularly cared for
the dandified Marquess, but he felt in charity with the world
today. "Splendid day for a ride."

"Indeed," agreed the other. "It's been an
unusually mild winter. Hope the spring shapes up as well. By the
way, when do you tie the knot with the lovely Miss Beauforth?"

Christian frowned. He had no intention of
allowing the fact that he meant to break off their betrothal to
become gossip before he could speak to Miss Beauforth himself.
"It's not quite settled yet," he said at last. "The lady is having
second thoughts, I fear."

"Oh ho! That dashing American friend of her
charming cousin is to blame, I'll warrant. My heartfelt sympathies,
Glaedon. Know just how you must feel."

"Do you indeed?" Christian spoke absently,
eager to end the conversation so that he could be alone with his
reminiscences of the day before.

"I certainly do. I had hopes of Miss Clayton
myself, pearl beyond price that she is, but I find she is out of my
reach. I am quite desolate, I assure you. Should you need someone
with whom to drown your sorrows, I'm your man!" He executed a half
bow from the saddle, one hand melodramatically over his heart.

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Chris
shortly. "Good day, Chilton." He spurred Sultan down another path
and was relieved when the Marquess did not follow.

It appeared that Miss Beauforth's growing
attachment to Jonathan Plummer was becoming common knowledge, which
was all to the good for his purposes, Christian thought. But what
had Chilton meant about Azalea? Had he made her an offer and been
refused?

He smiled to himself at the thought, for
though Chilton's fortune was no greater than his own, his title
was. Christian had been right in his estimation that Azalea was no
opportunist. The circumstance gave him reason to hope, as well.

A short time later, he returned to his Town
house to change before paying his promised call at the
Beauforth's.

"Have Cook put a sandwich together for me
before I leave, Lawrence," he said to his valet. "I have quite an
appetite today, I vow."

Sitting in the library with his feet propped
on a stool, a roast-beef sandwich and a mug of ale at his elbow,
Christian opened the morning paper, which he hadn't taken the time
to read earlier. Munching thoughtfully, he digested the political
news and took note of the current prices for sheep. He would have
to mention to his steward that it might be a good time to purchase
another flock.

Turning the page, he started to skim past
the Society news, as he usually did, when a familiar name caught
his eye. He went cold inside as he read the announcement of Miss
Clayton's betrothal to Lord Drowling.

Suddenly, the roast beef tasted like ashes.
He took a long swig of ale to clear his mouth.

Could it possibly be true? She had said
nothing of it this morning —nor yesterday, more to the point, when
he had nearly ravished her. She had never so much as mentioned
being acquainted with Drowling —a thoroughly unsavoury character,
in Christian's opinion, despite his wealth and standing in Society.
It made no sense.

Lord Chilton's words in the Park came back
to him. An avid follower of the current gossip, he must have been
referring to this very announcement, Christian realized.

A black rage rose up in his throat, first at
Drowling, debauched rake that he was, then at Azalea. No
opportunist, he had told himself? Drowling's fortune, he knew, was
many times greater than his own.

Unthinkingly, he untied the cravat he had so
carefully knotted only a few minutes earlier. Until he'd had a
chance to collect himself, he didn't dare go to see her. Rising, he
rang for more ale.

* * *

The next morning, even
before her ride, Azalea opened the
Post
to see if her retraction had
been printed. It had not.

Riding did little to lift her spirits.
Christian was not in the Park, and the sky was overcast,
threatening rain. Though she felt chilled both in body and spirit,
she refused to give up. With renewed purpose, she decided to visit
the news offices herself.

After forcing herself to eat a quick
breakfast, she summoned the coach and departed before her cousins
could appear to question her actions. They would not approve, she
knew— especially as she also intended to call at Lord Glaedon's
Town house before returning.

She went first to
the
Morning Post,
since she knew beyond doubt that the announcement had
appeared there and the retraction had not. The clerk who greeted
her was polite, but very definite in his answers. No, the
retraction had not been printed, and would not be unless it came
from Lord Kayce himself. Those were his orders, and it was not for
him or even his superiors to question a man in Kayce's
position.

The clerk managed to imply, without actually
saying so, that he considered her a flighty young woman who could
not make up her mind and who would do best to let herself be guided
by her elders. Furious, Azalea departed.

Her next stop was the
office of the
Morning News,
where she met with the same story. Kayce had
overlooked nothing, it seemed. She demanded to see someone in
charge, and was shown into a smoke-filled office occupied by a very
fat man with a thick cigar and a greasy black moustache. He did not
bother to rise at her entrance.

"How might I help you, missie?" he enquired
insolently.

Fighting down her revulsion and indignation,
Azalea explained that her betrothal announcement had been submitted
by Lord Kayce without her consent and that she wanted it
retracted.

"There will be no marriage," she concluded
reasonably, "so it would be wrong to lead your readers to expect
one."

The man, who had not given her his name,
laughed loudly. "If I only printed what was true, I'd be out of
business before you could so much as blink, my girl! Lord Kayce
said as how something like this might happen, and paid me well to
deal with it his way. There'll be no retraction."

Azalea turned on her heel and stalked out
without another word.

There seemed no point in
going on to the
Gazette.
Obviously Lord Kayce had these fine businessmen
so cowed that they were afraid to do anything that might displease
him.

She would have to deal with
this problem at its source. She would inform her uncle of her
existing marriage and make it plain to him that she would go public
with that news if he attempted to push her into this marriage. Once
that was settled, she would go to Christian and tell him
everything. She would
make
him believe her!

For the second time in two days, Azalea
presented herself at Lord Kayce's front door, this time demanding
to see her uncle rather than politely enquiring whether he were
home.

Almost to her surprise, she was shown into
his presence at once, this time in the larger salon where she had
greeted his guests at that dreadful dinner party nearly a month
before. Kayce rose, smiling broadly.

"My dear Azalea! What an unexpected
delight!" he exclaimed in his most affected manner. Oddly, his
delight seemed sincere.

"Your coming here like this has saved me
more trouble than you can possibly imagine," he continued, with
such apparent satisfaction that Azalea began to feel more than a
little uneasy. "You see, I had been racking my brains for a pretext
to get you here without arousing your suspicions or those of the
Beauforths. I very much wanted to avoid a scene, and was not at all
sure that you would oblige me in that."

He turned to his butler, who still hovered
in the doorway. "Graves, pray send a footman to Lady Beauforth's to
retrieve all of my niece's belongings, and to give her this
message, informing her that Miss Clayton will be my... guest until
her wedding takes place. He may take Lady Beauforth's carriage,
which I imagine is outside."

The butler bowed and departed, and Kayce
turned back to Azalea. "I think it best, my dear, considering your
recent activities and certain discoveries I have made, to keep
you—ah— safe here until Lord Drowling can claim his prize. So much
more convenient for all concerned, don't you agree?"

* * *

CHAPTER 15

Christian rapped smartly at the front door
of Beauforth House, his brisk manner concealing the uneasiness he
felt at being there. Last night, and again this morning, he had
made a few discreet enquiries about Town, and even at one of the
newspaper offices. He had been forced to the conclusion that
Azalea's betrothal to Drowling was perfectly genuine, fully
sanctioned by her guardian, Lord Kayce. He had come this afternoon
only because it would have been cowardly not to.

He would put a good face on it, he was
determined. But he also hoped to discover why Azalea, whom he had
thought so different from the other young ladies of the ton, had
agreed to such a match —and why she had concealed it from him.

"Lord Glaedon!" exclaimed Lady Beauforth in
delight when he was announced. "Azalea told us you were returned to
Town. We looked to see you before this, in fact. I trust you had a
pleasant Christmas and left your grandmother in good health?"

Christian assented, nodding to his fiancée
as he noted that Azalea was not present. "And I trust you enjoyed
your house party, Miss Beauforth?" he asked pleasantly, though it
cost him to maintain his smile.

"Oh! Yes," Marilyn replied, colouring
slightly. "I had quite a lively time." She lapsed into silence, but
almost before he could notice the change in her manner, her mother
launched herself into the breach.

"You will have heard our happy news by now,
I presume?" Lady Beauforth twittered. "Our little Azalea, to be a
viscountess! And such a wealthy and personable man Lord Drowling
is, to be sure!" Gritting his teeth, Christian managed a nod. "Yes,
I saw the announcement in the papers. I had hoped to convey my
congratulations to her."