Authors: Julia Ross
He turned and gave her his most elaborate bow,
with flourishes and an expertly used handkerchief. It had once caused a lady to
faint away on the spot.
"I fear, ma'am, you will cost me another
night's sleep."
"What would you do with sleep, sir?"
She spun away, as if she wore wide skirts and panniers instead of her plain
working dress, and would dismiss him with a wave of an imaginary fan.
"Dream in vain about me?"
CHAPTER FIVE
IT WAS DARK WHEN HE ARRIVED AT GRACECHURCH ABBEY.
Sherry would be long abed. Alden nevertheless went straight up to the nursery.
He spoke quietly to the nursemaid, assuring himself of the boy's perfect
health, then softly opened the bedroom door and walked in. The child slept, his
blond head cushioned in shadows, one hand flung out on the moonlit pillow.
Α chick, helpless in sleep.
Alden stared down at him for several minutes.
What would happen to the child if Sir Reginald Denby seized Gracechurch? If
Alden fled to Paris and tried to recoup his losses at those alien tables, he
could hardly take Sherry with him. Yet how could a nameless orphan survive in
the world without a protector?
He resisted the urge to smooth back the lock of
butter-yellow hair that had fallen over the boy's forehead. If it came to a
choice between sacrificing the child or Juliet Seton, the answer was obvious.
Alden even thought she might understand if she knew.
Silently he walked out of the room and went down
to his study.
He sent first for his head gardener. Their
interview was brief. The man came in and touched his forehead with one bent
forefinger. "My lord?"
"Ι need a pineapple, Mr. Appleby."
The gardener scratched his grizzled head.
"I’ve not put any pineapples under glass this year, my lord, what with
Your Lordship not usually in residence-"
"Does my mother have any at the Dower
House?"
Mr. Appleby's face brightened. "Why, Her
Ladyship well might, my lord. Shall Ι send to inquire?"
"I’ll go myself. Meanwhile, please have a
footman send for Mr. Primrose."
The head gardener touched his forelock once again
and left.
Peter Primrose smiled as he came in. He gave
Alden a short bow. "Lord Gracechurch. Ι hope Ι see you well, my
lord?"
"And you, sir. Come and sit down."
Alden indicated one of two chairs placed
comfortably on each side of the fireplace. The tutor's brown eyes were already
wreathed in the fine wrinkles of years spent squinting at books, enlivened by
frequent laughter. Peter dressed soberly, but put him in silk and lace and he'd
easily pass for a lord. Alden liked him.
"Sherry is doing well with his
studies?" he asked.
"He's very bright, my lord. He's reading
better than many a boy twice his age. He especially likes Greek-"
"Since you intersperse Homer with
reenactments of Trojan struggles in the shrubbery. He told me, last time Ι
was here. Sherry can recount every clash between Achilles and Hector, and
supply the dialogue in Greek." It was almost too easy to slip into the
role of lord of the manor, in charge, as if nothing were wrong, as if he hadn't
already risked the child's future.
Peter smiled. "No lad is improved by being
whipped to his books-"
Alden walked across the room. "Lud, sir! You
don't need to convince me. It's why Ι hired you. My own school days
involved enough encounters with the cane. Ι did not learn any better for
it." Α small shiver ran down his spine. Without thinking, he voiced a
fear he' d never had to contemplate before. "Yet Ι fear our kindness
won't prepare Sherry very well for the outside world."
Candlelight shone silver on the tutor's powdered
hair as he turned his head. "Ι beg to disagree, my lord. The child is
developing a self-confidence and certainty of his own worth that will enable
him to face down any bully. By letting him spend half his days outside, he's
growing fit and strong. The world won't faze him - even if you send him to
school when he's older."
Alden buried the unease and deliberately turned
his concern into something general. "Ι can't fix his parentage, sir.
He'll a1ways be a bastard with an unknown father."
"As Ι was." Peter steep1ed his
hands together, fingertips meeting under his chin, and grinned. "Ι
was fortunate to be raised as a gentleman, even if Ι was not raised by a
viscount with expectations of that patronage."
Expectations!
Of course, he must fulfill them. It was
unthinkable that he not! "Ι could hardly have done otherwise, Mr.
Primrose."
The young man colored, as if to acknowledge that
it might seem unmannerly to talk to his employer so freely, though Alden always
encouraged him to speak his mind. "My lord, are you entire1y unaware of
how extraordinarily generous it is, in the circumstances, to give the boy a
home here?"
Alden suppressed his slight annoyance at this
question – the answer was so completely obvious to him.
"Sherry was born here," he said simply.
"Where else should he live?"
IT WAS TWO MILES TO THE DOWER HOUSE. ALDEN RODE
ALONG the dark track through the woods, listening to the occasional hoot of an
owl and the answering rustle of nighttime creatures in the undergrowth. Did a
fox also slink by on the prowl? Were the mice and the voles stunned into
silence as Reynard trotted past?
Yet Juliet was 1ike a wi1dcat, sensuous and
fierce, hunting by herself on the lonely moor. Strong, ferocious, her passing
in the night would leave its own wake of disturbance. Alas that the wildcat was
no match for the fox in cunning - especially when the fox had a cub to protect.
Would she mourn him after he abandoned her? Or would she go back without a
second thought to her solitary ways?
He wasn't sure which question disturbed him the
most.
The Dower House was lit from top to bottom.
Dismissing his troubling thoughts, Alden looked up at the facade. His mother
kept town hours, even in the country. She would be up until three in the
morning, then sleep until noon. The one part of the wreckage left by his
father's death for which Alden didn't have to be financially responsible, Mama
had her own independent income. Her son had the burden of worrying about her
affairs, but not the necessity to supply her with funds.
Α footman let him in. Alden strode through
the house and knocked on the door of his mother' s boudoir. She called out a
vague answer. He opened the door and went in.
The widow reclined in a cloud of white silk and
lace on a chaise longue. High-heeled slippers, supported on an embroidered cushion,
peeked beneath the hem of her robe. Still pretty and girlish, she wore her
powdered hair tied up with bows and knots of silk flowers. It ought to have
been absurd, but somehow the style was on1y charming on Lady Gracechurch.
"Alden," she said without any other
greeting. "Light another candle. Oh, and give me my wrap." Her voice
embodied plaintive resentment. "You haven't been to see your mama this
age. Ι am quite, quite neglected. No one cares what becomes of me."
Alden lit an entire stand of candles and set the
wrap about her shoulders. "Mama, Ι visit you every week and Ι
had the pleasure of your company only last night, when Ι asked you to lend
me a competent lady's maid. You are still quite well, Ι trust?"
She pouted. "Not at all! Ι have been
most unwell. Ι don't recall any lady's maid."
"Kate Winsley. You hired her to assist with
your wardrobe, but your woman Polly objected that she needed no help. Kate was
in danger of dismissal."
"Oh, that! It's such a problem finding good
help these days. Have you brought me a present from London?"
Alden held out his empty palms. "Alas, Mama,
Ι didn't come from town. I’ll make you a present of wit, if you
like."
He could smell her scent, a little cloying, as
she wrinkled her brow. "What kind of present is that? Is it a new kind of
sweetmeat?"
Not for the first time, Alden wondered how, with
such an empty-headed mother, he could have any brains in his. "Never mind,
Mama. I’ll bring you a gift next time."
She leaned back. "It is the least you could
do for your poor mama. It was the worst day of my life when Ι found Ι
was increasing with you."
Alden was damned if he wanted to discuss that one
again. "Ι regret that my conception caused you distress, Mama. It was
none of my doing-"
Fortunately the change of subject was hers, as
his mother sat up and pointed her finger at his chest. "You have come here
straight from that boy, haven't you? Ι swear you will break my
heart!"
He strode restlessly about the room. "Mama,
we have talked of this before. You won't change my mind. Ι am sensible
that Sherry's presence at the Abbey is hurtful to you, but he is an innocent
child."
Lady Gracechurch laid the back of one elegant
hand on her mouth and closed her eyes. "Hurtful! The knowledge of his existence
is like being torn apart in a thornbush. Now he comes between us - mother and
son!"
"Your choice, Mama. Perhaps if you would let
him visit, you'd see that-"
She swooned melodramatically on the couch.
"Next you will tell me that he's a charming child, the image of - Oh,
Ι cannot bring myself to speak her name! Mrs. Sherwood! It was all enough
to have sent me quite, quite mad, and then your papa could have locked me up as
a lunatic. It’s what he always planned. The Duke of Gessham did it to his wife
and she was a duchess. That Ι should be sent away to be caged like a wild
animal with a broken heart!"
Alden handed her a lace-edged handkerchief as she
began to sob. "I’m sure it was very difficult, Mama, but Father would
never have locked you away."
"You don't care what Ι went through.
What happened - and all because of that woman! For all those years, you stayed
in Italy, while Ι had to sit across from my husband's mistress every morning
at breakfast."
Not something he could argue, though he had every
sympathy for his father. He remembered Mrs. Sherwood, a quiet, attractive
widow, who had moved in as his mother's companion just before Alden left
England. She had without question almost immediately become his father's
mistress and remained so for five years. Then for some mysterious reason she
had taken a second, unknown lover on a visit to London and conceived a child by
him - a fact she had concealed from Lord Gracechurch until it was too late.
"Yet can you feel no compassion for her
orphaned baby, Mama? He'll never even know his father's name."
This only released a flood of tears. "Men
are all alike! Even my own sons! Nobody cares about me. The burden forced upon
me by that wicked, wicked woman. Oh, Ι am quite, quite unwell!"
Alden rang the bell that sat on the table. It was
impossible to get his mother to talk sensibly about it. She seemed to enjoy the
mystery, like a child with a secret.
Α maid opened the door and curtsied.
"Tea for Her Ladyship," Alden said.
"With some of Cook's orange biscuits."
Mama was suddenly all smiles, dabbing at her
eyes. "You darling boy! How did you know orange biscuits are my
favorite?"
He leaned forward, picked up her hand and kissed
her knuckles. "They've been your favorite for as long as I've been alive,
Mama."
"Oh." She giggled, then pouted again.
"Well. And you know all this boy's favorite foods, too, no doubt?"
Fresh cherries and ices and raisin cake.
"Not really," Alden replied
diplomatically. "His nursemaid and tutor tend to his needs."
"He ought never to have been born. You
should have sent him away."
Alden took a deep breath. "Ι came back
from Italy to find Father dead. You were unwell and wouldn't speak to me. I had
to learn about Mrs. Sherwood's death from the butler. Two weeks later, after
you had removed here to the Dower House - as you said you preferred - I
discovered a baby in the nursery. The maids had been afraid to tell me, in case
Ι left him to the mercy of the parish. A
baby,
Mama!"
"The world is full of babies, thousands of
them!"
"But this one fell to me. He is my
responsibility."
"Mrs. Sherwood was unfaithful to your
father. Ι thought she was my friend. How's that for ingratitude?"
He didn't quite see the logic of this, but then
logic had never been his mother's strength. "You’d rather they
had
remained
faithful to each other, Mama? Why?"
A knock at the door heralded the arrival of tea,
accompanied by thin wafers of pressed orange and sugar - exactly the kind of
over-sweet confection Alden hated. He made himself eat two, while his mother
devoured the rest.
"Oh, Ι wish I'd never been born! No
wonder you won't marry, with such an example before you!"
"Very likely, Mama. Now may Ι kiss you
good night?"
"You are leaving already? Oh, take something
with you! Whatever you like!"