Surrender to Love

Nicholas Dameron, Viscount Embry, displayed no embarrassment whatsoever at the blunt reference to the young woman otherwise known as “Skittles”; merely lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug before drawling caustically: “Kitty’s already got the new horse I promised her and Belle-Mere’s still waiting. As I just said, she’s quite eager to meet Lady Travers. And naturally, so am I, especially since I’ve been told by Helen of her heroic rescue the other day.” Leopard-green eyes bored coldly into hers when Alexa forced herself to look defiantly back at him, noticing how his mouth twisted in that travesty of a smile she remembered all too well as he inclined his dark head in what was meant to pass for a bow.

“I do hope you do not mind my singing your praises to my grandmother and my—cousin?” Lady Helen’s voice was honey-sweet as she came up to place her fingers lightly on Nicholas’s black-clad arm, although her significant pause had conveyed exactly what it was meant to imply, and there was neither sweetness nor warmth in the cold blue eyes that flickered over Alexa from head to foot. Her betrothed, she had meant to say of course, before she had cut herself off. Perhaps it wasn’t quite official yet? Not that it mattered one bit to her, Alexa thought furiously before it suddenly dawned on her that she had just received what amounted to a Royal Summons, precipitating a meeting she was not sure she was prepared for yet; although now that the challenge had been issued her pride and her stubbornness would not let her evade it.

“I’m afraid our grandmother—Belle-Mere, she prefers to be called—is a rather formidable person,” Lord Charles said apologetically to Alexa. “She is quite outspoken, I’m afraid, and you must not on any account feel that you are obliged to meet her.”

“After that description I wouldn’t be surprised if poor Lady Travers is quite terrified at the thought,” Nicholas said sardonically with a lift of one eyebrow, causing Alexa to grit her teeth before she announced in as cool and unconcerned a tone as she could manage that she quite looked forward to meeting the Dowager Marchioness of Newbury, of whom she’d heard such a great deal.

“Poor Lady Travers” indeed! And she was hardly “terrified” either, even if he would like to think so.

“How very kind of you to be so indulgent,” Helen said with more forced sweetness. She gave a small laugh that was equally false. “I expect that Belle-Mere feels she must thank you for being so help

ful to me the other day.”

“You won’t mind walking as far as the conservatory with us, will you?” Nicholas added in a tone of such smooth affability that Alexa shot him a suspicious glower as she placed her fingers lightly on Lord Charles’s gallantly proffered arm; noticing as she did so that Helen positively clung to her escort’s sleeve in an openly possessive fashion he did not seem to object to in the least. What gullible fools men could be! Alexa thought scornfully before she felt her pulse begin to race in the next instant when she recollected every warning she had received against the woman she was about to meet.

Danger and adventure...were they synonymous? Quite suddenly she could almost hear Sir John’s voice cautioning her to keep her head no matter what the circumstances; for that was the only way she could remain in control of any situation in which she might find herself. Alexa caught a glimpse of herself in one of the many mirrors that lined the hallway through which they had to pass on their way to the conservatory, and her glance reassured her that she looked her best—enabling her to bestow smiles on all of them, even the detestable Nicholas.

The peculiarly clashing looks they exchanged might have been lost on Lord Charles, who was busy worrying about his grandmother’s usually outspoken manner of speech; but it was not lost on Lady Helen, who had begun to wish she had not lagged behind to greet a friend while Embry walked ahead of her to find Charles and his partner. Had she missed some important part of their conversation? And if Charles had met this flamboyant Lady Travers before, was it possible that Embry had met her also? She wished that she could find out without making too obvious a point of it, and then consoled herself by thinking that no doubt Belle-Mere would soon find out all there was to know about this typically nouveau riche female and just as quickly demolish all her pretensions to gentility if she chose. And of course that was exactly why her grandmother had cleverly sent for the creature—to give her a public setdown from which she could never recover.

But in the meantime, much to Lady Helen’s displeasure, their progress through the throng of dancers and those who observed the dancing in the conservatory was far too slow. There were too many friends and acquaintances who had to be acknowledged and then the inevitable introductions made. It disappointed Helen that Lady Travers managed to appear quite self-composed and not in the least nervous all through what most women might have considered an ordeal, especially if this was the first time she had had the privilege of mixing with society. During a short pause while they waited for some three or four couples to leave the floor as the orchestra struck up one of the latest waltzes, Helen said with condescending politeness, “I know my cousin Deering has already told me he has met you before, Lady Travers, but I must admit I have forgotten where, except that it was some foreign place...”

“It was in Ceylon—one of the crown colonies, of course,” Lord Charles said quickly before Alexa had had a chance to reply. “Told you several times over, sweet coz. We were fortunate enough to be invited to a ball at the Governor’s mansion, as I recall—among other things,” he added with a rather dark look at the Viscount Embry, who merely shrugged in a careless fashion.

“What an excellent memory you must have, my dear Charles! I had almost forgotten the ball at Queen’s House, although not the Governor’s pool, or some of those particularly beautiful beaches.”

Once again Helen felt herself strangely left out for some reason, and she had opened her mouth to inquire directly if indeed Embry and Lady Travers were already acquainted with each other when they reached the cozy alcove where the Dowager Marchioness of Newbury had chosen to ensconce herself.

“Ah! So here you are at last! Took your time, didn’t you?”

“You cannot believe the crush inside, Belle-Mere.”

“And of course we had to run into almost everyone we knew.”

Helen and Lord Charles spoke almost at the same time, but the Dowager ignored them while her eyes, hooded and inscrutable, studied every detail of Alexa’s appearance before she said shortly, “Well, now that you’re all here at last, which one of you is going to perform the introductions? My generation knew their manners, at least! No, no, no!” She waved her ringed hand impatiently to silence Lord Charles and looked imperiously at Viscount Embry. “You do it, Nicholas. More correct. Well?”

Even while he performed the formally polite and perfunctory introduction that manners and custom demanded, Nicholas found himself wondering angrily why he should almost feel sorry for the teasing, calculating little bitch who was about to receive the setdown she richly deserved. In fact, he had been surprised at how easily and almost meekly she had agreed to accompany them here to what would surely prove the end ,to all her aspirations to being accepted by polite society. Dammit, she should have been more cautious—just as she should be more afraid at this minute. But instead she continued to smile naively as if she had not noticed the open, almost insulting way the Dowager looked her over before she deigned to speak.

“So you’re the Lady Travers I’ve been hearing so much about. And you’re very young, too! Never thought he’d marry, you know, especially not since he was so badly wounded that time in India—although I suppose you would have been only an infant at that time? It was Sir John Travers you were married to, wasn’t it? And now you’re a widow...you must tell all about it, and how you happened to meet. We were very old friends, Sir John and I.”

“Oh, but of course I knew all that and had been quite longing to meet you too, ma’am. My husband spoke of you so often that I could almost begin to feel I knew you, if you’ll forgive my presumption. And—oh yes, of course, how could I have forgotten—he also used to tell me about his early friendship with the present Marquess of Newbury, and...”

If the Dowager’s hands had clenched themselves over the handle of her silver-topped cane, they were hidden by the folds of her silver and gold brocaded skirt so that nobody noticed; although even Helen could not help but sense the almost indefinable tension in the air while she wondered why Belle-Mere had not yet made one of her famous cutting comments instead of merely saying, “Ah, indeed? How garrulous men tend to become with age, and how they gossip, to be sure! But now that you have intrigued me you must tell me more, Miss...?”

“It’s Lady Travers now, ma’am. But in Ceylon I was known as Miss Howard.” Alexa discovered that she was actually able to manage a small laugh before she added, “I should not wish to bore everyone with the history of my family, however, fascinating I find it myself.” Shrugging lightly, Alexa dared to smile as she said: “For instance, I’ve been told I take after my paternal grandmother in both coloring and nature, although I cannot be sure the latter was meant to be flattering since she was also known as a witch!”

“How interesting! I will have to hear more about this fascinating family of yours quite soon. Helen, my dear, you have sent Lady Travers an invitation to your ball next week, I hope? We’re neighbors, I believe, and that should make matters convenient. You’ll come?” The Dowager’s recovery from the barbed darts she had taken was remarkable, Alexa had to admit grudgingly, even as she inclined her head.

“I will have to look in my appointment book, of course, but I am sure I shall manage to be free on such a special occasion. How kind!”

Chapter 33

Alexa had begun to feel a certain sense of elation at how easily that very first confrontation had gone, even while she reminded herself that she had not won any battles yet True, the old Marchioness- had seemed to retreat for the moment, but that was probably only in order to decide on the best form of attack. Be careful, Alexa warned herself as she felt some of her bravado melt away when the Dowager suddenly changed tactics in the most puzzling way possible and became too charming; insisting that Alexa must sit by her for a little while longer at least and tell her all about dear Sir John while Embry must find them another chair for Helen, and her grandson Charles must also make himself useful and...

“Better ask Helen to dance. Can’t have everyone standing around here looking awkward, c

an we? Go on. Do as I say! And if your mama says anything, my dear, you may tell her I said so! I never missed a single waltz if I could help it—once it was considered permissible to do so.”

Once the reluctant Helen and her equally reluctant cousin had obediently joined the rest of the dancers, Alexa was forced to meet a smile that did not reach stony eyes as the Dowager said questioningly: “Ceylon? A pleasantly warm climate there all year round, I believe. Don’t you miss it? London must seem unpleasantly cold after the tropics, I suppose, and everything becomes extremely dull once the season is over, although I’ve heard that it is quite different in warmer countries such as Spain and Italy, for instance, or the south of France. Have you had the chance to see anything of Europe yet or did poor John keep you hidden?” Without giving Alexa a chance to answer the Marchioness shook her head with pretended commiseration before continuing: “You mustn’t mind my frankness, for it’s one of the few things considered excusable at my age. Such a gallant, idealistic man John Travers used to be, and quite a catch as well, even in those days before he became so rich. Until, of course... But you must know all too well what I am speaking of, unless you’ve had an overly protective upbringing. Ah, here’s Embry, at last! My dear Nicholas, how rude of you to stay away so long and neglect your duty while I have been boring poor Lady Travers with ancient gossip. Do ask her to dance to make up for it! I’ve sent Helen and Charles off to dance already.”