Surrender to Love

Ironically enough, Lady Margery had said almost the same thing to Alexa the previous day. “My dear, it is quite unlike you to hide away from things, I cannot help feeling. And your excuse of having contracted a slight cold and fever cannot serve you for too much longer, unless you decide to be dramatic enough to claim you have consumption. Do come and visit me at least, if you are bored with riding in the park, and we will think of something different to do.”

Lady Margery was a dear, sweet soul, and she was perfectly right, of course, Alexa thought as she settled herself against the velvet cushions of the carriage. She had been a coward hiding behind excuses in the safety of her room, and it had done her no good since she could not escape from her thoughts.

“Oh, my lady! I’ve never seen so many letters and cards in my whole life! And the flowers and baskets of fruit and ladies and gentlemen coming to call on you... Why, even Mr. Bowles had to agree with me that he’s never seen the like before!” Bridget had sounded quite awed as she brought all the calling cards and notes upstairs each day. And each day there had been the engraved card she had dreaded even when she had come to expect it—accompanying blood red roses. “Newbury” was all the card said; and before she threw it into the fire and consigned the roses to Bridget, she would always look at it and shudder; remembering all she had been told about him and the strangely unexpected way they had met.

That memory always began with Nicholas Dameron, Viscount Embry—whom she was vastly better off not thinking about. There was a purely sensual, physical attraction between them that neither of them could deny and which was surely the best reason in the world for them to stay away from each other. He, at least, had made that clear when having “rescued” her from the awkward situation into which he’d been inconsiderate enough to put her in the first place, he had not only devoted all his attention to Lady Helen for the rest of the night but had made a point of avoiding Alexa as well. He was hateful, as she should have remembered, even if he had helped her with smoothing out her hair and her gown while he reassured her far too glibly that it was a friend of his who occupied the particular suite of rooms they had positively sneaked into, and she wouldn’t mind it in the least if Alexa used her comb or her brush. She! And he knew exactly where the private entrance was and that the door would be left unlocked. It was only by exercising every ounce of willpower that Alexa kept herself from making several sarcastic comments, especially when he did not bother to pretend that he did not know where everything was kept.

It was Embry’s suggestion that they leave the room separately and that he should go first to make sure there was no one about who might notice. And all he did afterwards was to stick his head back in the door and point in the direction where he said he had just seen Lady Margery. Having done what he must have considered selfishly to be his “duty,” he had obviously ceased to concern himself with her or the thought that she might lose her way.

How could she have had any idea of how enormous and rambling Stafford House was, or how many rooms and corridors running into each other there might be? It had not taken Alexa very long to discover that she was hopelessly lost and might never find her way back unless she was fortunate enough to run into a servant or another guest.

How thankful she had felt when she had heard the faint sounds of music at last! Leaning her head back with her eyes closed, Alexa heard her own shuddering sigh before she breathed in deeply again. She had even thought she heard voices at last and had hurried forward, pausing before a set of double doors which she knew must lead into the ballroom with a sudden feeling of awkwardness as she pictured a sea of faces turning to study her and judge her when she walked in alone. And if she was asked questions, what were her answers to be?

A sudden sound (a muffled sob, a door opening and closing?) had made Alexa whirl about nervously, suddenly as tense as a cat in unfamiliar surroundings. And that was when she had found herself alone and face to face with her natural father, the Marquess of Newbury. How odd that, in spite of having at the time to fight back an irrational urge to turn and flee from his stoney-blue eyes that flickered over her without depth or expression, she could still remember every detail of his appearance; from his crimson and gold brocade waistcoat to the diamond buttons down his ruffled shirtfront and the diamond stickpin in his cravat.

“Forgive me if I startled you, but I did not expect...” Alexa must have made some slight movement of retreat that suddenly brought her directly under one of the gaslights, for it seemed to her as if his eyes had suddenly become riveted to her hair in a strangely concentrated ma

nner that made her unaccountably nervous, so that she felt impelled to rush into speech.

“I...I had retired for a few moments and was foolish enough to get myself lost, I am afraid. I...”

“We have not been formally introduced, but your husband and I were once close friends. He was Sir John Travers? I am Newbury.”

It was easy afterwards to think of how she might have responded, but to have said, “I am Alexa, your daughter by your legal wife, Victorine,” would have been too hopelessly melodramatic, especially considering the circumstances and the occasion. And in any case, she had been caught quite unprepared. Alexa’s slight nod of acknowledgment must have sufficed, and whatever else she might have thought of to say went unsaid as a positive gush of ladies burst through the doors at that moment in search of one of the retiring rooms that had been set aside for guests wishing to tidy themselves. From their looks it was obvious what conclusions they had leaped to immediately, and in fact one elaborately bejeweled matron went as far as to say brightly, “Why, my dear Lady Travers! Here you are after all, and I have just told Lady Margery that I saw you walk into the gardens with...” Her falsely apologetic trill of laughter had been interrupted by the Marquess saying in his smooth, cold voice that he had had the honor to show Lady Travers the Tapestry Room while they spoke of her late husband, who had been a very close friend of his. And after that Alexa had no option but to accept both his proffered arm and his escort into the Great Hall.

Newbury! Even on this unseasonably warm afternoon Alexa shivered slightly. For some reason she felt unnerved by both the Marquess himself and his strange actions. He was pursuing her, with his cards and his roses the color of blood, but coldly and dispassionately. Why? Alexa thought she knew enough about men by now to feel sure he had no feelings of sexual desire for her; so that if he paid her such assiduous attention it was for some other reason.

The carriage made slow progress along the crowded streets, where the noise of clattering traffic was sometimes unbearable, and the occupants of several other carriages remarked that poor Lady Travers did look as if she had been ill. That pallor! And she had appeared to be asleep in spite of the din. After those pitying remarks the ladies would usually fall to discussing with relish the latest whispers about Lady Travers and her many admirers. Viscount Deering, who had seemed to have the advantage until his cousin Embry had suddenly appeared on the scene. Newbury (that cold fish!) was supposed to send her flowers every day while poor Lady Iris pretended to know nothing, and the Dowager Marchioness of all people had actually invited Lady Travers to the ball she was giving for Newbury’s oldest daughter! Everyone was cadging for invitations, of course, avidly waiting to observe everything At First Hand.

Alexa was by no means asleep, though she kept her eyes closed on purpose so that she would not have to spend every minute bowing or smiling at some acquaintance whose carriage had drawn abreast of hers instead of concentrating on what she should do next. Her hands clenched on her lap as she thought of Newbury—a man who enjoyed making women suffer. Was it possible that he knew who she was and how much of a threat she could prove to be to his career, his reputation and his present family? And if so... Oh, God, no! Alexa thought almost wearily. So many possibilities, and she had been over every one of them too many times already. Why do so again? All she should ponder was the thought that since she was a danger to them, then they could very well prove a danger to her. Hadn’t she been warned by everyone? No, she could not and must not trust any one of them, not even Charles, who had always been unfailingly kind and pleasant to her. And certainly not Nicholas, who had called almost daily at the Dowager’s house across the square where Helen happened to be staying, without once having the courtesy to call or drop his card off at her house. Not that she would have seen him, of course, Alexa reminded herself severely. In fact, she would much rather not have to meet him again.

In all likelihood, Alexa thought with silent, bitter laughter, he and the old witch together are planning how to get rid of me! Why, she would never have consented to dance with Nicholas if the old witch had not almost forced her into it; and it had probably been all planned between them that he would take Alexa into the garden and then... But he had taken her safely back to the house afterwards and had even tried to be quite pleasant to her for a change, not that that lasted! And he’d had no right to give her those dark, contemptuous looks just because she was obliged to dance once with Newbury.

With an impatient sigh Alexa sat up straighter and opened her eyes, observing with relief that she was almost at her destination. Since carriages were not permitted in Burlington Arcade and had to wait some distance away, Alexa soon found herself on her own as she strolled casually by all the boutiques with their treasure-trove windows that tempted customers inside. Almost anything one could think of could be purchased in the Arcade, from daring books in French at Jeff’s Bookshop to boots and shoes, snuffboxes and filigree work, and wonderfully trimmed bonnets in all the latest styles. And of all the little millinery shops the most elegant by far was known as “Milady’s,” where every aristocratic visitor could request to be shown to a small private room with an assistant to wait upon her and help her try on all the very latest styles in bonnets and trimmings and decorations to be worn in the hair at evening functions. As Alexa pushed open the door a tiny silver bell tinkled overhead to summon Madame Louise, who always appeared immediately, her usual smile deepening when she recognized a regular customer.

“Ah! Milady Travers, such a pleasure always! And today especially, when I ‘ave so many new creations to show. Some are just arrived from Paris, and these I must show to you myself for even I find them so chic, so out of the ordinary! And you would like your usual wine and some biscuits for refreshment? Ah, oui... and here is Hortense, who will see to everything while I shall take you upstairs to one of the larger rooms. You do not mind the stairs, I hope?”

Following Louise up a set of stairs carpeted in red plush that matched the curtains, Alexa did not feel the need to say anything at all until Louise had shown her into a comfortable room that was furnished like a parlor except for a red and gold patterned curtain drawn across the back of the room. “I will bring in the refreshments myself, and the hats; and I will make sure that you will not be disturbed,” Louise whispered as she unlocked the door and let Alexa in. “And please to ring the bell if you should desire anything and I will come myself. The key, milady.” The door safely locked, Alexa had barely turned back to the room when the curtains were drawn apart to reveal another part of what must be an extremely large chamber, this particular section furnished as a bedroom, with a canopied and curtained bed, an elaborately mirrored dressing table, and two comfortable-looking chairs set on either side of a marble-topped table.

“I wondered if you had arrived already,” Alexa said without surprise as she went forward to greet her aunt. “You look well, Tante Solange.”

“Tante indeed! The way you look today we could easily pass as sisters! And I, my dear, had barely two hours’ sleep last night.” Solange’s eyes studied Alexa with a professionally critical scrutiny. “I would not think that you have slept very much either. So?”

Alexa decided to be blunt. ‘ “The reason for my begging to see you? It is—Newbury. Ever since the night of the Sutherlands’ ball he has been sending me red roses each day, accompanied only by his card. It’s begun to worry me! I wondered if you might know what it means with him, if it means anything; or if...” Alexa had sat down opposite her aunt, but now she sprang up as if she could no longer contain herself and began to walk back and forth while she continued in a suppressed kind of voice, “If you might be able to advise me as to how... as to what I should do about it.”

Chapter 35

“If you will remember, my dear, I had warned you at our first meeting to be extremely careful. Do you think that because of your money and your position you could not be made to disappear ‘mysteriously’? Best stay close to only those you can trust, and tell that lawyer of yours everything. Let

them know it. And never forget either that she is probably having you followed.”

It had been that part of her aunt’s speech that had startled her most. “Followed?” Alexa echoed incredulously, and Solange lifted both shoulders before she gestured wearily with the cheroot she had just lit up.

“For God’s sake, I should be disappointed to learn that you still retain some traces of naiveté! Followed—of course! There are people who make a profession of it. And there is no doubt that she would like to find out exactly what you are up to. In fact, I can imagine very well that the old witch would love to know if you and I have discovered each other’s existence or have met. So you understand now—the precautions? Although...” and Solange had suddenly given a bawdy chuckle, “...I have been thinking that if you found my friend Orlanda’s house interesting you might find my establishment even more so. Perhaps I can arrange for a secret visit if you would care for it?”

In the end, although her aunt had not been able to tell her much more than she already had about the Marquess of Newbury, Alexa had learned a great many other interesting things besides the warning that she was probably being followed wherever she went.

Item: Solange had left by the private entrance, and for the sake of discretion Alexa was making a show of trying on bonnets between sips of wine. Wearing one particularly outrageous creation of grey niched silk and feathers, she pulled a face at her reflection in the mirror. Item: all the rich and fashionable men visited Madame Olivier’s establishment or rented private apartments from her for their secret assignations with ladies. The Viscount Deering particularly enjoyed virgins or demi-vierges and the Viscount Embry preferred older and more experienced women, usually blondes. The disgusting libertine! Alexa thought viciously and almost jabbed herself with a hatpin. By the time she left, she had spent far too much money on five bonnets that she might never wear, including the grey silk she had not even liked.