As Harry and Betsy, reconciled to the loss of their brilliant careers, chattered happily on about the various feats of horsemanship that they had witnessed, Louisa leaned back against the squabs with a sigh of contentment. At the moment at least life was going rather well.
Mr. Grimstead had been pleased with
Love in the Ruins.
Even the blond, blue-eyed hero had earned his approval. And now that she was getting one hundred pounds a book, her financial worries were eased.
Suddenly she became aware that Atherton was gazing at her. “You look very relaxed and happy,” he said softly.
Louisa smiled. “That is because I am,” she replied.
The Viscount’s mouth curved into an answering smile. “I am glad. You often look worried and harassed.”
In her present mood of euphoria Louisa spoke without thinking. “Sometimes I feel that way.”
His hand covered hers at once. “Please remember that I am your friend. Come to me if you need assistance - of any kind.”
With his hand still on hers and his dark eyes so close, Louisa found it difficult to breathe. What if he saw in her eyes some hint of her regard for him? Regretfully she withdrew her fingers from his. “I thank you, milord,” she said somewhat stiffly. “But I assure you that I can man-age quite well. You needn’t concern yourself with my problems.”
“Perhaps I
needn’t,”
said his lordship firmly. “But I
shall.
I warn you, I am not easily set down.”
Louisa’s mood of contentment vanish-ed. “But I do not wish for any more help - either in the financial or in the matrimonial area.” She was conscious that she had colored up and she was angry about it.
“I am aware of your feelings in the matter,” said Atherton formally. But she was quick to notice that he did not say he would do anything about those feelings.
“I do not
want
you to find me a husband,” hissed Louisa, her voice rising more than she meant it to.
“How silly,” Betsy piped up, drawn into the conversation by the tone of Louisa’s voice. “Husbands are not
found,
Louisa. They appear. Like heroes, they are just there when you need them.” Betsy’s pert freckled nose screwed itself up. “At least, they are supposed to be there.”
His lordship chuckled, but Louisa did not find the discussion amusing. “Perhaps that is why I do not believe in heroes,” she said sharply. “For my experience has shown me that they are
not
there when needed.”
Betsy opened her mouth as though to retort to this calumny on herokind but, apparently thinking better of it, shut it again without saying anything.
“I think,” said his lordship, with that glint in his eyes, “that you do not look in the proper places.”
Before Louisa could reply to this statement, or even consider exactly what he might mean by it, the carriage had drawn up before the house in Arlington Street and Atherton was helping her descend.
As the children turned to race for the door, eager to tell Winky about their wonderful trip, Atherton spoke. “Wait before you go scurrying off. Today’s excursion was an extremely pleasant one for me. I wonder if you might be kind enough to accompany me to Vauxhall Gardens some evening soon. I should like to see it through young eyes.”
Betsy and Harry looked at each other and grinned. Then Betsy smiled. “That’s most kind of you, sir. Thank you. We’d all be pleased to go with you, wouldn’t we, Louisa?”
“Well, it is most kind of you,” Louisa faltered. She wanted to make these magic moments continue and she was very much aware of the joyous beating of her heart at the thought that she would see the Viscount at least once more. But common sense made her protest, “Milord...”
“Louisa, my dear,” said Atherton in a tone so reminiscent of Aunt Julia’s that both the children broke into giggles, “you are impeding the progress of science.”
“I?” said Louisa in surprise, relieved to be able to respond lightheartedly. “How can that be?”
“Here am I, well on my way to discovering a new cure for
ennui.
And you would deprive
me
of my glory and the world of my great discovery.”
Louisa ceased fighting. His lordship was a strong-willed man and how could she expect to hold out against him when two pairs of childish eyes were also regarding her with pleading and when she herself could think of nothing she would rather do than visit Vauxhall Gardens in the company of Viscount Atherton?
“Very well,” she replied. “I will not stand in the way of progress and science.”
“Capital,” said his lordship with that mischievous glint in his eyes. “How about next week Monday?”
Louisa considered. “That should be fine. And thank you again.”
“Yes, thanks,” cried the children as they hurried off to pour this double portion of good news into Winky’s eager ears.
Louisa looked to his lordship. “I do not see how
we
can cure your
ennui
,” said she with a smile. “And I really must say again what I have said before. Whatever your father’s debt to the Colonel or your sister’s childhood regard for Mama, you have both done far more than the circumstances require.”
Atherton’s dark eyes regarded her closely. “I take my responsibilities rather seriously,” he said gravely. “But you must not impute to me virtues that I do not possess. I am not a naive philanthropist. I have reasons for whatever I do. Sound, sensible reasons, though not perhaps easily observable ones. I shall see you on Monday next.”
And with that the Viscount clapped his beaver over his dark locks, vaulted easily into the vacant seat beside the driver, took up the ribbons, and tooled off.
Louisa, unaware of the dreamy quality of her smile, watched until he was out of sight before she turned and with a puzzled frown made her way through the door that Drimble stood patiently holding.
What had he meant by that remark about his reasons for doing things? Sane, sensible reasons, he had said. Not easily observable. Could he still be seeking for Lady Incognita’s identity, Louisa wondered as she moved slowly up the stairs to her sitting room. Oh, if he were and if he discovered it!
The thought left her quaking, but then anger came to the surface. Who did he think he was, the high and mighty Lord Atherton? Just because he was a viscount, just because he had a certain undeniable charm, that didn’t mean he could bully people around. And besides, said that sane sensible part of herself, finally coming to the fore, she was making much too much of his lordship’s remarks. He was probably just referring to his attempt to defeat
ennui.
That was sane and sensible, she told herself and, thus reassured, she took her place before the writing desk, picked up a fresh pen, and gave herself up to the adventures of Percival and Corrine.
Chapter Eleven
As the days passed, Louisa found life growing more and more complicated. Lady Palmerton was an almost daily visitor. Louisa, always an early riser, had to get up earlier still in order to finish her daily quota of pages before the arrival of Atherton’s sister.
Many mornings she found early rising difficult. For the sweet sound sleep of her childhood and youth seemed to have vanished forever. Now her nights were a troubled mélange of the adventures of Percival and Corrine and haunting memories of her times with Atherton.
Still, she forced herself to rise and produce the required number of pages. For inexorably as the sun climbed to its noonday height and then began its downward descent, Lady Palmerton would arrive and calling hours would begin.
That estimable lady’s head was full of plans for Louisa’s future - so full, in fact, that Louisa’s words and desires on that score found no path of access there. For the first time, thought Louisa, she realized what feather-headed really meant.
But Lady Palmerton was a kind-hearted soul. Mama’s old friend, and, as Louisa admitted to herself in her stronger moments, most importantly she was Atherton’s sister.
Had Louisa been able to fly so completely in the face of convention as to insult Lady Constance and send her packing, the latter thought would undoubtedly have deterred her.
And so there she was - her whole life turned upside down, nothing the same. Reality had lost its clear sharp outlines and become blurred around the edges. The absolutes that she had centered her life on - particularly the nonexistence of heroes - had been tumbled from their lofty perches. And now anything seemed possible - or almost anything.
In spite of her reluctance to do so, Louisa was forced to accept Atherton’s statement about Harvey and Reardon, and their matrimonial intentions. For several times a week the little exquisite and the big pomposity, as Louisa could not refrain from styling them to herself, showed up to call. Inevitably they arrived together, Reardon shooting his cuffs and Harvey clearing his throat before launching into another disquisition on phrenology.
At first Louisa had seriously considered leaving instructions with Drimble that she was not at home to gentlemen callers. But that, of course, would include the Viscount and so was impractical. Louisa was aware that she could give Drimble orders that would except his lordship, but the thought of facing the old retainer with an order that showed so much partiality caused her to blush as rosily as any heroine.
And so she bore the visits of her beaux with what patience she could. Fortunately Lady Constance was always there. Louisa at least had someone to talk to. The exquisite, who appeared to be saving his energy for the vital act of shooting his cuffs, rarely managed more than two or three words consecutively. And the pomposity, once engaged in his inevitable monologue, was relatively impervious to anything else.
Fortunately, too, Aunt Julia was often at home during these times and seemed to forget her suspicion of things male in her eagerness to discuss things phrenological. Lady callers also occasionally stayed longer than five minutes and so unwittingly helped Louisa to bear the company of her admirers.
Lady Sefton, to Lady Constance’s infinite satisfaction, called during this week and spent a pleasant half hour with Louisa. And other ladies followed.
All in all, thought Louisa as she rose early on the morning of the planned excursion, she was managing this new life fairly well. She was conscious of a feeling of great happiness as she settled at the writing desk and she did not try to deny that it was due to the pleasing prospect of an evening spent in the company of a certain tall dark lord.
With a slight smile she picked up a fresh pen and turned to Percival and Corinne.
The cold wet rain pelted the lovers as they raced for Percival’s charger. Hurriedly he lifted Corrine and swung into the saddle behind her. “We must hurry, my love,” he cried. “The Count Ombre is not far behind us.”
The sky was dark and gloomy, the moon almost completely hidden by the dark ominous clouds that gathered like malignant vultures to gloat over their travail. A loud crash of thunder made Corrine stifle a scream. And then the strong arm of Percival was wrapped firmly around her waist and she felt the comforting warmth of his body against her back. Her terror at the raging of the malevolent elements, her fear of the diabolical Count Ombre, her anxiety for the future - all were momentarily forgotten within the secure circle of that warm and comforting arm.
Louisa swallowed over the lump in her throat. What would it be like, her traitorous heart asked, to be warm and secure in the circle of Atherton’s arms?
Louisa sighed heavily. She must stop this ridiculous and childish behavior. Perhaps heroes did exist. Perhaps. But that didn’t mean that Louisa would ever belong to one, would ever be a heroine.
Then she realized with a start that she
had
been in Atherton’s arms when they had waltzed at Almack’s. She closed her eyes in an effort to remember as clearly as possible each precious moment. She had been warm, surely, when Atherton’s arm had encircled her. But security had not been among the conflicting emotions that had raged within her breast. She had felt first excitement at his nearness, terror at the presence of so many onlookers, then a kind of sweet surrender of her will and a joyous explosion of happiness in the rhythm of the music.
Louisa sighed again and opened her eyes. Undoubtedly she would return to Almack’s, but it was certainly unwise to expect that his lordship would wish to waltz with her again. He was, after all, one of the most eligible of the
ton,
a man about town, a fashionable Corinthian.
Louisa had not been so blind, that night at Almack’s, as not to see the surreptitious glances of speculation which were often sent the Viscount’s way by designing dowager mamas and slyly hopeful young ladies. Atherton was a prime catch and sooner or later he would succumb to the charms of some dazzling social butterfly.
She must, Louisa told herself with firm determination, she absolutely must reconcile herself to this fact. Atherton’s present fancy for the company of the children, and so herself, was the product - as he himself was the first to admit - of his
ennui.
Surely sooner or later he would also tire of them. This was sane, sensible fact, Louisa told herself, but her heart did not listen. It seemed to be singing a song of its own - a sweet song of happiness. She would leave the future to its own devices and concentrate on the present, she told herself with only slight misgivings.
What was that line she had stumbled upon the other day in the bookseller’s? Something by some engraver named Blake: “Kiss the joy as it flies.” That was how it went. Yes, said Louisa to herself. She would kiss the joy as it flew, enjoy Atherton’s company while she could, and later ... Later, she told herself with a shake of the head that any mother would have instantly labeled obstinate - later she would deal with when it arrived.
It was in this frame of mind that she greeted Atherton at the door that evening. Betsy and Harry, dressed in their best, could barely be kept from jumping up and down in their joy. Louisa, however she might manage to keep herself from similar expressions of excitement, could not hide the sparkle in her eyes nor the flush on her cheeks.