No, it was not intelligence or looks that attracted her to the Marquess of Harwood, but some inexplicable energy that drew her to him in a way so fundamental that it eluded all definition. There was a defiant glint in his eye, a directness in his gaze that told her he was a man who formed his own opinions, followed his own interests, went his own way, who needed no encouragement, approval, or assistance from anyone. That aura of self-reliance and quiet confidence drew Althea to him more powerfully than any witty conversation or smiling good looks could have.
She had felt that self-assurance in the strength of his hands as they had guided her around the dance floor and maneuvered her out onto the terrace. As he had held her hands in his own, his strength had seemed to flow into her. The touch of his lips on her fingers had been electric. She had sensed the pent-up passion and energy that matched her own—a passion and energy that she kept so determinedly hidden from everyone that she had hardly known herself that she possessed them until she had met the marquess. Now he seemed to bring it all to the surface, whether it was challenging her at cards, sharing his frustrations with his mother, or holding her and looking down at her with eyes that missed nothing, eyes that showed he understood who she really was. Althea could not help being drawn to him, like iron to a lode-stone, until she wanted to press herself against him and feel the power and the energy that made him so different from the self-satisfied young bucks who usually surrounded her.
“My dear, you are quite ruining your gown, twisting your hands in your lap like that.” The duchess shook her head in exasperation as she reached over to smooth the delicate slip of Urling’s net that her daughter had unthinkingly wadded up. “Really, Althea, you should be more careful. It is almost torn here.”
Slowly and deliberately Althea straightened the fingers that had been so tightly curled and let out a deep breath. This was absurd. How could she let herself be so affected by anyone? Surely it must be all in her mind, a reaction to the tension of the game with Sir Montague. The next time she saw the Marquess of Harwood, her breathing would again be restored to normal instead of this ragged and uneven gasping she fought against now; her heart would beat quietly instead of the loud drumming that now sounded in her ears; her face would remain coolly pale instead of uncomfortably flushed. The next time. She could hardly wait until the next time.
It was at Almack’s that Althea next saw the marquess. Knowing his aversion for marriage-mad young ladies and their mothers she had not expected to see him. And it was not until her heart thudded uncomfortably at the sight of a tall figure in the doorway that she realized he was there.
“Would you look at that, Emily, it is the Marquess of Harwood!” A comely young matron standing next to Althea hissed in her companion’s ear.
“How very droll. Perhaps he has come to his senses and realized that ladies of quality have more to offer than those actresses and opera dancers he insists on frequenting. I, for one, shall be happy to prove it,” her dark-haired friend replied, directing a sultry look in Gareth’s direction. “A man of his, er,
talents
should not be wasting his time on the lower classes when there are so many women of his own kind who would welcome him into their ...”
Her cheeks already hot at the thought of the Marquess of Harwood’s lovemaking skills, Althea edged quickly away so as not to hear the rest of the conversation.
Gareth himself was wondering if he had taken leave of his senses as he paused at the entrance to the ballroom. Certainly the few delicately raised eyebrows and sly smiles of those who saw him indicated that these observers had arrived at that conclusion. Well, let them think he had lost his mind. He refused to become a creature of habit, which was precisely the explanation he offered to Sir Humphrey Fenton who, determined to be the first to spread gossip of any kind, minced over to Gareth the moment he entered the room.
“You, my lord? The Bachelor Marquess? At the marriage mart? I thought you detested anything as respectable as this temple of the
ton.”
“You should know me better than that, Sir Humphrey. I am not so simple or so banal as to avoid something just because society flocks to it. My own guiding principle is that if a thing amuses me, I pursue it. At the moment, it amuses me to be at Almack’s.”
Sir Humphrey tittered uncomfortably as Gareth raised a disdainful brow. “If it amuses you. Oh, very good, sir. What a devil of a fellow. He would come to Almack’s if it amuses him.” And he hurried off to spread the word that at the moment it amused the Bachelor Marquess to appear at Almack’s.
The Bachelor Marquess, meanwhile, was not amused by the uneasiness that gnawed at him until he could reassure himself that Lady Althea Beauchamp truly was among the select throng there that evening. He was even less amused by the speed with which that anxiety vanished the moment he caught sight of her.
Then she looked up, and as her eyes met his, he was taken aback by the effect that one tiny welcoming smile had on him. Not since his salad days had a woman’s smile interfered with his heartbeat or his breathing in such a way.
It was not that she looked stunningly beautiful, for Lady Althea always looked stunningly beautiful. It was that she was genuinely happy to see him and no one else. There was something about the directness, the steadiness of her gaze, that made him feel she was happy to see him, Gareth de Vere, not the Marquess of Harwood, not an eligible bachelor, but someone whose company she enjoyed. Gareth could not remember a time, except perhaps among brother officers on the Peninsula, when he had been appreciated simply for the person he was.
Slowly he made his way over to the spot where she was standing with her mother and grandmother. The Duchess of Clarendon’s pale blue eyes surveyed him appraisingly. “It is a surprise to see you here this evening, my lord.” The cautious note of welcome in her voice left no doubt in his mind that Althea’s mother was not about to waste her time or effort on a man who sported the nickname of the Bachelor Marquess.
He flashed her the devastating smile that had even caused the notorious Harriette Wilson’s unimpressionable heart to skip a beat. “I was certain that you and your daughter would be here, and since I thoroughly enjoyed my last waltz with Lady Althea, I was hoping to convince her to honor me again. I trust that she and her grandmother will vouch for me as a respectable partner.”
He winked unobtrusively at the dowager who just as unobtrusively winked back. There was no doubt that the man was a rogue, but an honest one where her granddaughter was concerned. Men who wished to protect their bachelor status did not risk waltzing with an eligible young female unless they were seriously drawn to her. And from the slight flush that rose in Althea’s cheeks, the dowager could see that she was seriously drawn to the marquess in return.
“Mama, may I?”
“Oh, very well. But do not forget you were promised to Cholmondeley ages ago for the next.” There was no mistaking the implication in the duchess’s voice that both Cholmondeley and the long-standing nature of his invitation were more to her liking than the Marquess of Harwood’s offhand approach.
“I can see that I must count myself lucky to have won a waltz with the incomparable of incomparables,” Gareth remarked as he led Althea to the floor.
“Oh, that is just Mama’s way. She never wants anyone to succeed at anything unless they suffered a good deal to attain it.”
“And the fortunate Cholmondeley? Is he a suitor of yours?” Gareth did his best to drawl laconically, but the tension rising in the back of his neck belied this casual attitude. Fortunately, for his peace of mind, he was the only one aware of the laughable contrast between his outwardly calm demeanor and his inward turmoil.
“Cholmondeley is a mere viscount, but a most biddable one, with ancient lineage and excellent manners, so naturally Mama favors him.”
“So the Duchess of Clarendon is seeking a biddable son-in-law above all else. What does the Duke of Clarendon seek?”
Althea looked at him in some surprise. Why should the Marquess of Harwood even care what sort of husband her parents sought for her? “Oh, Papa, I suppose ...” Her voice trailed off as she considered the question carefully. Ostensibly, her father’s word was law in their household, but was it really? “He is far more concerned with political connections.”
“But he would concede to your mother’s choice.”
“No, well, ah, yes, I suppose he would.” Althea regarded him curiously. “Yes, now that I think of it, of course he would. But how did you know?”
Gareth smiled bitterly. “Because I know. One only has to observe them for a little while to see that.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right.”
There was a world of resignation in her sigh that tore at his heart.
“And is this why you devote yourself to the card room, to escape it all, to concentrate your thoughts on other things?” He could see from her expression that he had gone too far. It was not something she wished to think about. “Of course, there is also your desire to win a fortune. How are you doing at reaching that goal?”
She brightened at the thought. “Actually, I think I am doing rather well. As you know, I won ten thousand from Sir Montague and five hundred at Lady Congleton’s rout, one hundred one evening from Lord Wallingford who simply would not believe a woman could beat him, as well as another five hundred from him later before I was able to prove to him that it was possible. So far, I suppose that I have won a total of about twenty thousand, which should allow me to purchase a small estate somewhere. Eventually I wish to manage a farm on my own, but for the time being I would lease the land to local farmers, except for a few acres that I would give to the poor as common land.”
Gareth raised a speculative eyebrow. “Can it be that we have a radical in our midst?”
“No. Merely someone practical enough to see what the Enclosure Acts and the Speenhamland System have done to the cottagers. Papa, naturally enough, supports the acts because he feels that the land is better managed that way, and he considers it his duty to take care of the poor on his estates. He simply cannot conceive that anyone would rather have the freedom to farm and forage on their own land, risky and unprofitable as it might be, than to receive largesse from a landlord. He does not understand what it is like to have no control over one’s own destiny and therefore cannot sympathize.”
She spoke so fiercely that Gareth could not help smiling. If the
ton
only knew what a passionate person the Ice Princess truly was they would be shocked. “You have been reading Mr. Cobbett, I see.”
“And what if I have?” The dangerous sparkle in her eyes warned him that the lady took her politics very seriously, but he could not help thinking, rather irrelevantly, how much more passion became her than icy aloofness. Her beauty, which had always presented a most disturbing challenge to his peace of mind, was awe inspiring when fired by idealism.
“That is yet another peculiarity we share in common,” he mused. “Card games and agricultural reform make odd bedfellows, do they not?”
“You?”
“You continue to hold a rather unflattering opinion of my character, Lady Althea. Why? I have even more reason than you do to feel that farmers and cottagers should farm their own plots of land and be free to forage on common lands in order to support themselves. As the daughter of a responsible landlord, you have never seen the misery that can ensue as the result of bad management on the part of an irresponsible owner, but I have.”
Again she heard that undercurrent of pain in his voice that seemed so at odds with the cynical gambler. It was rapidly being born in on Althea that behind the bleak expression in those cold gray eyes lay a sensitive soul. She held her breath and waited for him to continue.
“When I came home after my father died, I was shocked by the suffering I saw. Cottages that had been neat and tidy when I left were slovenly and tumbled down. Their inhabitants who had once been healthy and industrious were now gaunt and listless. All of this because one man had become a slave to the gaming table and money that had once been spent on improving the estate went directly into other, more successful gamblers’ pockets.”
“But I thought he was trying to win money in order to make your ... his wife happy.”
“Originally he was. But occasionally, when our regiment was assigned to the Knightsbridge barracks, I saw him in London, and it soon became clear to me that gambling had such a hold on him that all the rational reasons for pursuing the Goddess of Chance had gone by the wayside. He was in the grip of a fever that knew no restraint. No words of caution on my part had the least effect on him. In fact, the last time I saw him I warned him that he would ruin himself and we parted in anger.”
“How sad for you.”
They had been gliding around the room in time to the music, but now he stopped and looked deep into her eyes. “Sad for me? Frustrating, more like. He was a fool and there was nothing I could do. We had never been close, and this just made the distance between us all that much greater.”
“But it kept you from ever getting close enough to him as an adult to know him or, perhaps, even to understand him. Now you never will.”
The hand clasping hers squeezed it gently, warm and caressing through her glove. “What a very wise young woman you are, Althea,” he whispered softly.
The warmth of his breath against her cheek sent a shiver through her. She felt as though he were embracing her in the middle of the dance floor. It was a shock to realize, as they moved back into the rhythm of the dance, that they had paused for only the briefest of moments. No one around them even seemed to have noticed anything at all, though Althea felt as breathless and shaky as if he had kissed her in front of all the patronesses and the entire exclusive company gracing Almack’s that evening.
Chapter 16
As Jenny undressed her mistress and brushed out her hair that night, Althea continued to marvel how close she felt to a man she had been prepared to despise at first sight. That initial impression had begun to change with her growing appreciation for his energy and intelligence, and it had been affected even further by her pleasure at being treated as an equal and taken seriously on her own terms for almost the first time in her life. Then came their sharing of the difficulties posed by their respective parents, and now a mutual appreciation of the same political ideas.