My Lady's Honor

Parry brightened. “May I go there now, Aunt Alice?”

“Of course, dear boy.”

After making her a proper bow, Parry eagerly exited the room. Gwen watched him walk out, fiercely glad she’d managed to spirit him away. If he’d been anxious after a mere morning cooped up in Lady Alice’s parlor, how could he have endured cousin Nigel’s incarceration?

“I’m glad you had an errand for him, Gwennor. ’Twill give us a chance to chat privately of your future—and his. What is to become of him, now that Nigel rules Southford?”

“Nigel intended to lock him up in the attic,” Gwen replied bluntly, not troubling to hide her indignation.

At her aunt’s exclamation of horror, Gwen continued, “’Twas the main reason we left so hastily. I could have stomached Edgerton for husband if he meant to allow me to make a home for Parry, but cousin Nigel made it quite clear that the baron was as revolted by my brother as he is. I mean to keep Parry with me permanently, ma’am. Beyond that unconditional requirement, I am not at all particular about the attributes of my potential husband. A kind, decent man who will see Parry for his strengths and not find it embarrassing or uncomfortable to be around him is all I ask. Do…do you think I shall be able to find such a man?”

“I don’t see why not. The dear boy appears perfectly normal to me. Indeed, if Nigel could be induced to agree to it, do you not think Parry could live on a small estate of his own?”

“’Tis a bit…complicated,” Gwen returned, frowning. “At times his intellect seems not at all affected by his accident. But it’s as if the blow from that stallion’s hoof severed the link in his mind from the present to the past or future. You cannot tell him in the morning to do something at noon, for by noon he will not remember the request, nor can he envision what he needs to do tomorrow. He seems instinctively able to perform quite complicated tasks, but if he’s given a list of duties to accomplish or a long series of sums to add, he will lose track of them in the middle, which upsets him dreadfully.”

Lady Alice shrugged. “Computing a long series of sums has the same effect on me.”

“You can see how difficult it would be for him to manage a household, however, and he is so innocent of evil, if a venal or crafty person should enter his employ, they might steal his last shilling or commit some dire mischief without his ever suspecting it. Occasionally he does realize something is…wrong with him, which upsets and alarms him, and requires the reassurance of someone he trusts to help him regain his equilibrium. Most importantly, I love him and I want him with me.”

Lady Alice patted her hand. “Such a good sister you’ve been to him, for all that you’re not really blood kin. Still, such a handsome young man, ’tis a shame he’ll never—but no sense repining.”

“Nor are we blood kin. But will you help me anyway? You know how I’ve counted on your wisdom and counsel ever since stepmama died.”

“Well, of course I shall! You’re a handsome, capable young woman, Gwennor, of excellent family. I have no doubt we can find you a suitable candidate—or several. My, to have beaux about the house again, coming to call and leaving bouquets and such! And the shopping…new gowns and pelisses and bonnets. Oh, ’twill be a delight! I shall begin a list of eligible gentlemen immediately.”

“Thank you, Aunt Alice! I shall be forever indebted.”

“Nonsense, child,” Lady Alice replied. “’Tis I who am indebted to you for rescuing me from my ennui.”

After making some discreet inquiries of the staff which confirmed her suspicions about the state of Lady Alice’s finances, Gwen resolved to be as slight a burden on her aunt’s household as possible. Therefore, after adamantly refusing to have her aunt purchase her a new wardrobe, she was forced to expend far too much of her slender resources in acquiring the minimum number of garments her aunt considered necessary for a lady about to make her bow in Harrogate society.

She had to admit, though, as a week later she exited their carriage and strolled on her aunt’s arm toward the Pump Room, that facing the world in a stylish new gown of black silk, her hair artfully gathered in a topknot of curls fashioned by Lady Alice’s deft-fingered maid Tilly, certainly gave one a welcome dose of confidence.

“Colonel Haversham should already be within,” Lady Alice confided. “I’ve asked him—quite discreetly of course!—to gather about him any of those gentlemen whom we’ve discussed. Such as his friend Colonel Howard…” She paused and looked over at Gwen.

“A fine army man who returned here from India to recover his shattered health—a widower of about forty possessed of a comfortable income,” Gwen recited her aunt’s coaching. “Likes dogs and billiards.”

“Very good,” Lady Alice nodded. “And Lord Sandstone…”

“Also a widower, tall, thin, suffers from gout but preserves great sweetness of manner despite his pain. Enjoys angling and gardening.”

“Mr. Phillips…”

“Youngest son of an earl, a bit vain of his looks and lineage but quite affable; maintains a fine house in town between visits to his father’s nearby estates.”

“And still in his thirties!” Lady Alice prompted.

“Mustn’t omit that important fact.” Chuckling at the thought of the youngest of her prospects being nearly ten years her senior, Gwen looked back at Lady Alice, who was following her through the doorway—and was knocked nearly off her feet by a man who briskly shoved open the door they’d been about to enter.

She stumbled sideways, her arms flailing as she attempted to avoid the embarrassment of tumbling face-forward onto the flagstones in front of the Pump Room’s main entrance.

“Gwen! Are you all right?”

Before she could reply to her aunt’s cry, a pair of strong hands grabbed her from behind and steadied her. “Pray forgive me, ma’am!” said a deep, contrite masculine voice. “I trust you’ve suffered no harm?”

“I—I am quite unharmed, thank you, sir,” she said, turning to face the gentleman, who, after insuring she’d recovered her balance, released her shoulders.

She looked up into a pair of clear green eyes set in a face attractive enough to make even her skeptical heart skip a beat. Firm masculine lips curved into a smile as he brushed a lock of blond hair off his brow, revealing a charming set of dimples.

“Thank heavens for that! I was opening the door for grandpapa’s chair and did not pay sufficient attention to who might be approaching. Indeed, let me escort you in before some other ignorant oaf assaults you.”

He made them a bow. “Lady Alice Winnerly, isn’t it? I believe you are acquainted with my grandfather, Lord Masterson. Please, let me show you back in.”

“What have you gotten yourself into now, boy?” an acerbic voice demanded as they entered.

The gentleman hastened back to a thin elderly man who sat in a wheeled chair, swathed in robes. “Nearly ran down these ladies on the sidewalk, I’m afraid, grandpapa.”

“Lord Masterson!” Lady Alice said, a smile of delight breaking out on her face. “You look much improved! I trust the waters are proving beneficial, or perhaps it is the reviving presence of your grandson Mr.—”

“This jackanapes?” the old man said with a jerk of his chin toward the young man. “My grandson, Jeffrey Masterson, come to turn me up sweet enough to leave him some of my geld when I’m gone, no doubt—but he’s tolerably amusing, so perhaps I shall,” he said, ignoring the young man’s strangled protest. “And the waters are as nasty as ever, my lady. I suggest you avoid them. Take me home, now, Jeffrey. These old bones are longing for their bed.”

The embarrassment in the young man’s eyes swiftly changed to concern. “At once, grandpapa. Lady Alice, will you be remaining at the Pump Room?” At her nod, he continued, “Then please give me leave, after I’ve gotten grandfather settled, to return and deliver my apologies to you and your charming companion at more length. Ladies.”

After bowing, he pushed his grandfather’s chair out.

Lady Alice gazed after them for a moment, her bright blue eyes shining. “What a fortuitous encounter! I’d heard Lord Masterson’s grandson was visiting but had not yet had occasion to meet him. So attractive, and quite young! A bachelor possessing a large fortune from his mother’s side, ’tis said he has no need of his grandfather’s money. Most charming, did you not think?”

“Indeed, Aunt Alice,” Gwen replied, impressed, but resisting the urge to succumb to the pleasant imaginings which Lady Alice was doubtless entertaining. “If he isn’t hopeful of a bequest, it speaks well of him that he would come spend time with his grandfather.” Especially a man who appeared as irascible as Lord Masterson.

Fool, she told herself, sternly damping down a niggle of hope as they walked from the entry into the Pump Room itself. Just because Mr. Masterson appeared to possess the kindness and tolerance of infirmity that might make him accept Parry did not mean he would be impressed enough with her to come courting.

She’d better not set her hopes higher than the infirm gentleman stricken in years and wishful of a handmaiden’s assistance whom she’d originally envisioned for herself.

Perhaps then she might banish the disturbing memories that, once they’d been accepted under Lady Alice’s roof and she’d stopped living in constant fear of pursuit from cousin Nigel, returned all too frequently to plague her.

Memories of a tall blond gentleman whose handsome face and broad shoulders had elicited an immediate, visceral pull of attraction. Whose clever banter had delighted her mind even as she knew she ought to deplore its fixation on the physical. Who, after their encounter and despite her shame over her unprecedented reaction to it, she could not help wishing she might have met instead under proper circumstances, so she might, with the same shivery agitation his presence had excited, look forward to his calling on her, riding with her, becoming a friend.

She suppressed a scornful chuckle at so naive a wish. ’Twas not platonic friendship he’d wanted from her. But given her inexplicable response to his audacious kiss, she could not very well condemn only the stranger’s behavior.

Still, the very thought of that kiss refired within her a simmering urgency previously unimaginable in the bounds of her staid existence. A kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced, that within an instant had marshaled the vague longings that had often roiled within her and forged them into irresistible, all-compelling desire.

Instead of exhibiting the horror one would expect of a virtuous maiden suddenly assaulted by a man with whom she’d been acquainted for barely half an hour, her hands had ceased their protesting resistance to clasp about his neck. And her lips had not just yielded to his, but actively responded to the stranger’s caress.

Just as bad, once compelled to it, she had to admit she’d enjoyed dancing for him—the erotic freedom of the wild music that matched the fire flaming through her blood. Such incredible behavior must have originated in some previously unsuspected but obviously deep vein of carnality of which she’d heretofore been completely unaware.

The whole experience had been shameful, appalling—and marvelous.

However, if she wished to contract a respectable alliance, she’d best thrust those rash and wanton responses back into the Pandora’s box from which they’d sprung. Much as her body might protest, she was probably better off setting her matrimonial sights on a staid and possibly infirm gentleman many years her senior—or an obvious gentleman like Mr. Masterson, who would expect virtuous and restrained behavior from his bride.

And who would have no wish to evoke in her so exhilarating, intense—and frighteningly uncontrollable a reaction.

Chapter Five

“Oh, I see Colonel Haversham—with Colonel Howard!” Lady Alice exclaimed.

Jolted back to the present, Gwennor watched Aunt Alice wave across the room at the gentlemen. “Excellent!” she said as the men approached. “Two eligible suitors already this morning, and only our first day!”

Gwen’s trepidation at meeting one of the prospects her aunt expected her to attract faded as soon as the two men arrived and she perceived the lines of suffering that marked Colonel Howard’s too-thin face. Her ready sympathy immediately activated, as soon as the introductions had been performed and Lady Alice, with a wink at Gwen, sent the two off to procure a cup of the waters, Gwennor set about trying to put the colonel, who seemed rather shy and diffident for a military man, more at ease.

“My first cousin, Major Harry Hartwell, was in India before transferring with his unit to the Peninsula,” Gwen said as she took the colonel’s arm. “He wrote us there were any number of dreadful maladies that plagued Englishmen there. Did you happen to meet my cousin on the continent, Colonel?”

“‘Heedless Harry’ is your cousin? A fine lad, full of enthusiasm, an exemplary rider and marksman besides. I fear he’s correct—there are any number of diseases, each one more noxious than the last, as my pitiful frame can testify. I’m sure Wellington is glad to have your cousin with him in Spain!” The colonel grimaced. “How it grates me, knowing the import of the business going on there, and being forced to remain here so far from the action.”

They reached the basin, where a waterspout delivered a continuous stream of the heated, faintly sulfur-scented mineral water from a natural spring beneath the pump-house floor. “Aunt Alice tells me you are much improved of late,” Gwennor said as he filled two glasses. “Perhaps before long you shall be able to rejoin your unit.”

“So I keep trying to tell myself! If I could just shake this curst fever…” He sighed and, glasses brimming, turned back to her. “Malaria, they tell me. But so young and lovely a lady cannot wish to hear of pills and potions. Nor is it comforting to a man’s pride to demonstrate how thoroughly he’s been defeated by his own constitution.”

Her sympathy increased a notch as they walked together back toward her waiting aunt. So much of a man’s self-esteem, she knew from observing her father as he battled his final illness, derived from his sense of having mastery of the responsibilities given into his charge. For a military man accustomed to command, it must be especially galling to have been invalided out of his post. Perhaps here, too, was a man who could understand and exhibit a tolerance for infirmity.

“I should suppose a malady is no more discerning than a bullet in battle, nor any more avoidable,” she replied.

Surprise lit the eyes that glanced over to her. “I never thought of it in quite that way, but I imagine you are correct.” His assessing gaze lingered on her face before he murmured, “You are a perceptive young lady.”

She flushed a little. “Only a practical one, I fear.”

“As lovely as she is practical, then. Though I understand that you are in mourning, I am happy to note you do not intend to completely shun society gatherings. I haven’t previously visited the local assembly, but I’m told the affairs are quite enjoyable. Should…you and your aunt be planning to attend next Friday?”

“I shall have to inquire, but I would presume so.”

“Good. You must save me a dance, then—or at least promise me a stroll about the room.”

Before she could reply, they reached her aunt, and a few moments were occupied in the transferring of cups and a discussion of the benefits to be obtained from sipping the warm, heavily mineral-flavored water.

Just as, noses wrinkling against the taste, Colonel Haversham and Lady Alice finished sipping their glassfuls, Mr. Masterson hurried back in. After scanning the room to locate them, he walked over, the smile of delight mirrored by one on the beaming face of Lady Alice.

The men exchanged bows, and Gwennor sensed the colonel’s warm manner chill abruptly.

“Colonels Haversham and Howard I know, Lady Alice,” Mr. Masterson said. “Please, will you not present me to your charming companion?”

The introductions duly made, Mr. Masterson promptly requested Lady Alice to allow her charge to take a turn about the room with him. Her aunt’s smile, if possible, grew even broader as, permission granted, she walked off on Jeffrey Masterson’s arm.

Knowing her aunt was envisioning a courtship of rivals with competing offerings of flowers, books and invitations, Gwen was hard put not to smile, too. If either of these gentlemen came calling the next day, Lady Alice was going to be in alt.

“What brings you to the city?” Mr. Masterson asked. “Certainly not, given the bloom of health on your cheeks, a need to sip the waters. You are paying your aunt a visit?”

“Y-yes. Although seeing my aunt is always a pleasure, as you can tell by my dress, I’ve recently lost a kinsman—my father. With my cousin now taking charge of my old home, I wished a…change of scene.”

“My condolences on your sad loss.”

She nodded briskly, refusing to let her thoughts stray to such doleful ground. “I understand you are attending your ailing grandfather. How kind of you to leave the attractions of London to succor a sick relation.”

He smiled slightly. “Much as I should like to boast that noble purpose was my sole reason for quitting the city, honesty forces me to confess that, though I was truly concerned about the recent decline in grandfather’s health, there were…other considerations.” His smile faded. “I, too, recently suffered a…disappointment, and felt the need for a change.” With a shake of his head, he summoned back the smile. “But enough of that! Does your mourning permit you to attend the assemblies and the theater?”

“I expect we shall attend both.”

“Would you permit me to call tomorrow? Perhaps we could arrange a theater party.” His clear green eyes gazed into hers appealingly.

A shiver of both anticipation and trepidation rippled through her. Firmly suppressing the latter, she replied, “I should like that very much.”

As it turned out, she saw him again sooner than expected. Early the next day as she and Parry took their morning walk, they encountered Mr. Masterson near the park, riding a handsome chestnut gelding. Drawing rein, he dismounted and came over to greet them.

Gwennor had a moment of satisfaction upon noting his obvious relief that she presented Parry as her brother.

He, of course, was more interested in the new four-legged arrival. “What a fine beast, Mr. Masterson.”

“We were…not able to bring our horses with us,” Gwennor said, “and have not as yet had time to hire any. Though the walk is pleasant, we miss our morning ride.”

“I’m afraid Vulcan is a bit too spirited for a lady’s mount, but until you’ve made other arrangements, you are welcome to borrow him, Mr. Wakefield,” Mr. Masterson replied promptly. “I must warn you, he dislikes strangers. ’Tis the reason I ride early, before the streets are full…”

His words trailed off and his expression turned to amazement as Parry approached his horse, murmuring softly. Vulcan alerted, his ears pricking up, and extended his head to nuzzle Parry’s outstretched hand.

“Why, ’tis amazing!” Mr. Masterson exclaimed. “Truly, I’ve never seen him react like that! In fact, he still nips at my groom if Nichols approaches unexpectedly.”

“Parry has a special affinity for animals,” Gwen replied. “They sense and respond to it.”

Her brother turned from crooning to Vulcan, as if suddenly reminded. “Can we return by the stables, Gwen? I want to show you what I’ve found.”

“Oh, not already!” Gwen said with a groan. “My brother also has a knack for discovering lost and injured creatures wherever he goes. At Southford we possessed an ever-changing menagerie of rabbits, fawns, ducks, even wolves he found and healed before setting free again.”

“I have to help them, Gwen,” Parry said.

“Of course you must,” she agreed. “What is it now?”

“Only a kitten. Come see him! His coloring is almost exactly the shade papa was seeking in our rabbits.”

“My father was attempting to produce a stronger strain of domestic rabbit,” Gwen explained. “Parry was directing the breeding experiments.”

“We must go see what he’s found then, mustn’t we?”

Heartened by Mr. Masterson’s congenial response to her brother, as they strolled back, Gwen tried to draw out her potential suitor.

“How do you occupy your time while your grandfather is resting, Mr. Masterson? I imagine there are rather few pursuits here for a gentleman accustomed to London. Though there is, my aunt tells me, a fine lending library.”

Mr. Masterson chuckled. “A claim whose truth I’m not likely to discover! I’m an indifferent scholar, I must confess, and works of literature are more likely to put me to sleep than amuse me. Had it not been for my best friend Gilen—now there’s scholar for you—I would never have survived Oxford.”

Books being one of her chiefest pleasures, Gwen felt a mild disappointment. But there were other interests they might share. “My aunt tells me you came by way of your home at Wilton Park, where you maintain a large stable,” she continued. “Horses are your particular pursuit?”

During the rest of the walk, she coaxed Mr. Masterson to describe his stock and his estate, which he did with so much enthusiasm she concluded both must be extensive, well-maintained and lovely. Once they’d reached the mews and Parry had tied the docile Vulcan to a stall, he led them to a manger half full of fragrant hay.

He clucked softly and a small, malnourished kitten popped out from under the straw. The little creature ran to Parry, purring lustily.

“Isn’t he lovely?” Parry asked.

“Very pretty,” Gwen agreed. But when she reached out to pet the animal’s back, the kitten whirled around and bit Gwen’s finger before burrowing back under the straw.

“Sorry, Gwen,” Parry said. “I forgot he is still shy of strangers. I think he was mistreated.”

“Why don’t you get him some milk from the kitchen?” Gwen suggested. As her brother, after a bow to Mr. Masterson, trotted off in that direction, she turned to give Mr. Masterson a rueful smile. “Obviously, I haven’t my brother’s skill.”

“No, he is quite special,” Mr. Masterson replied.

Gwennor’s eyes flew up to his. He returned her steady regard, his gaze open and friendly. In his tone and manner, she could discern neither mockery nor disdain.

He accepts Parry. The realization filled Gwennor with such a sense of joy and relief, she could have wed Mr. Masterson on the spot. Despite his dislike of scholarship, if further acquaintance confirmed her initial impression of Mr. Masterson as a kind, congenial, sympathetic gentleman of sufficient means, Gwen felt she might be able to develop for him not just a fond regard, but a lasting affection.

An affection that might be coupled with a more measured attraction than the frighteningly intense desire that had swept her for the stranger at the gypsy camp.

If Mr. Masterson found her as appealing as she was finding him, perhaps she’d not have to hunt for an enfeebled octogenarian after all.

Ten days later, grimy and out of sorts, Gilen de Mowbry gritted his teeth as he unpacked clothing from his equally dusty saddlebags.

Weary from six days spent nearly ceaselessly in the saddle, he did not want to hear about the lovely, fascinating creature Jeff had just met. As Alden had predicted, he thought with disgust, only half listening to Jeff’s rapturous flow of rhetoric, it appeared the distraught friend whom he’d felt compelled to come support had already fallen in love again with some other chit.

Though how he’d found someone in Harrogate under the age of fifty to fall in love with, Gilen couldn’t imagine. If he’d known, he concluded sourly, longing for a bath and a glass of strong ale, that he’d find his supposedly inconsolable friend so irritatingly cheerful, he wouldn’t have prematurely called off his search.

After the shock of finding the gypsy encampment deserted, he’d ridden back to Lacey’s Retreat and questioned the staff, trying to determine the band’s normal route. He’d wasted three days riding west after them before learning that instead of proceeding as usual, they had wandered north. When he finally found them, their leader at first refused to speak with him, then kept him waiting a day while he considered the generous sum Gilen was offering in apology for his previous intrusion.