Anne Barbour (13 page)

Jack uttered a boyish faugh. “No, my lady, I’m afraid not. I would surely have remembered.” His eyes crinkled in an expression of youthful admiration, and Lady Edith smiled patiently. “Alison and I,” he continued, “are old friends, and I am so pleased to renew our acquaintance. If I present myself on your doorstep to call on her, I hope you won’t turn me away.”

Lady Edith glanced quickly at Alison, and observing the tightening of the girl’s lips, replied, “We should both be delighted, I’m sure, although we are often away from home.”

Jack responded with appropriate expressions of delight and bowed himself away from the ladies. It was not until later in the day, when Alison and Lady Edith were at home, removing their bonnets after the day’s outing, that the older woman spoke of the encounter.

“What was that young man’s name again?” she queried fretfully, stooping to greet Honey, who had bounded up at their entrance to receive the attention that was her due.

“John Crawford. He is usually called Jack, and”—Alison drew a deep breath—”the reason the name seemed familiar to you is that he was my friend Beth’s husband.”

She sat down suddenly, and Lady Edith went to her. “Oh, my dear, how dreadful to have that rascal show his face here. Why, the impudent blackguard, actually requesting permission to call on you! Well, if he does dare show his face here, I shall know how to go on with him.” She shot a baleful look at the front door as though expecting to find Jack Crawford, armed with sword and battering ram, preparing to make his assault.

“I’m not sure,” said Alison slowly. “If I should refuse to see him, it will surely be remarked upon. I shall see him alone when he calls, and make it plain that I do not wish to renew our acquaintance.”

Lady Edith shrugged dubiously, but said nothing more on the subject. Thus, when Mr. Crawford presented himself in Royal Crescent the next day, a little earlier than the conventional hour for visiting, he found Miss Fox waiting for him, seated sedately in the drawing room.

She offered him sherry, which he accepted, and biscuits, which he did not. “Now,” he said gaily, “tell me all you have been doing since you left Ridstowe?”

“You mean since I left for the second time?” Alison responded quietly. A flush rose to Jack’s lean cheeks. He stood and took a turn about the room before coming back to sit in a chair beside the settee she had chosen. “Alison, my dear girl, I can see you still hold a grudge against me for that unfortunate episode, and I cannot say that I blame you. I can only say that I am truly sorry for what happened, and for the unfortunate results of your efforts to help Beth and me.”

“My efforts were solely on Bethie’s behalf,” returned Alison sharply.

“Of course,” he said quietly. “For Beth’s sake, then, may we not renew our friendship?”

“I rather do believe friendship is too strong a term for our previous relationship, but, whatever it might be called, I do not wish to continue it. You have no idea of the upheaval my going to London caused in my life, or the tragedy it caused in the lives of others.”

“Ah, you are referring to the Earl of Marchford’s family.”

Alison’s eyes widened. She had never disclosed to Beth the disastrous results of her foray into the dangerous world of high stakes gambling in London. “How did you come to know about that?”

“I visited Molly in London not long after Beth died, and she told me all about it. I am truly sorry,” he repeated.

“That’s as it may be, but you will perhaps have no difficulty in understanding why I do not wish to see you again.” A trembling had begun in the pit of Alison’s stomach and she was forced to grip her hands tightly in her lap lest they reveal her turmoil.

Jack rose from the small gilt chair in which he had been seated and moved unhurriedly to stand before her.

“As you wish, Alison. I have no desire to cause you pain. However, I hope to see you again while I am in Bath, at which time I will take leave to try to change your mind.” The rueful smile that had crossed his features faded. “I am not a bad man, you know, and I—I
am rather in need of a friend right now.”

Once again, Alison experienced a flicker of pity for him, but, saying nothing, she rose abruptly and moved to the door. She inclined her head in an imitation of the regal gesture she had seen Lady Edith use to good effect, and, as she had hoped, Jack bowed in acquiescence and left the room. He crossed the entrance hall and had just reached the front door when it swung open to admit Lord Marchford and Meg, who had gone out together again, this time to view a promising hacking horse that March thought to purchase.

To Alison’s dismay, it was evident that Jack recognized the earl immediately, and his glance swung back to her in surprise. Meg, on observing the presence of an attractive young man on the premises, smiled at him in shy invitation. Hands clenched, Alison introduced Jack to Marchford and to his sister, who promptly invited the guest back into the house for tea.

March acknowledged the introduction pleasantly, but his glance at Alison was speculative. Jack had smilingly declared himself an old friend of Miss Fox. Old friend, he wondered, or old lover? He felt a surprising distaste at the thought. He was aware of the tension fairly radiating from Alison’s slender body, and wondered further if Jack was here at her invitation. If so, for what purpose?

Alison led the way back to the drawing room, Meg’s artless chatter echoing in the hallway. Lord, here was a fresh disaster in the making, March thought grimly. This Jack Crawford, clearly a rogue, must be kept firmly out of the susceptible damsel’s orbit.

“My home is in London,” explained Jack carelessly to Meg’s query, “but I have friends who reside permanently in Bath.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Meg, adroitly seating herself next to the visitor on a brocade settee. “Who are they? Perhaps we know them.”

Jack’s hesitation was barely perceptible as he replied, “Oh, I doubt it. Lady Margaret. Giles—that is Captain Morganton and his wife—rarely partake of the social pleasures of Bath. He has recently sold out and prefers to live quietly in lodgings in the Paragon Buildings.”

March made a mental note of the name. He rather thought he had heard of Giles Morganton since coming to Bath, but he could not remember in what connection.

“But how is it that you happen to know Alison?” Meg persisted.

Once more, Jack hesitated, and March caught the brief glance he shot at Alison.

“Alison was a good friend of my wife, who passed away a few years ago.”

Meg made an appropriate expression of sympathy, but March, turning to observe Alison’s reaction, became instantly aware that she was as taut as an overstretched violin string. Her eyes were wide with dismay. Why, the girl was terrified of Jack Crawford! March fought back a sharp urge to move to her side and place himself between her and the object of her distress. Good God, he berated himself, this was ridiculous! Why the devil should he want to protect her?

It was all Alison could do not to run from the room screaming. A nightmarish sense of doom pressed upon her, and she fervently wished that Lady Edith had not taken herself upstairs for a nap, for she felt in desperate need of reinforcement. She could feel March’s eyes upon her, and irrationally, could not help succumbing to the belief that he must sense the dark connection between Jack and herself. After several eternities had passed. Jack finally rose, and with a graceful bow declared he must take himself off.

“For,” he said laughingly, “my hostess has informed me that if I am late for dinner one more time, I shall go to bed supperless.”

“Oh, but, Mr. Crawford,” Meg cried, “when shall we see you again? You and Alison must have a great deal to catch up on, and you have hardly had time for two words together. I know!” She whirled to Alison. “We must invite Mr. Crawford to dinner tomorrow. Aunt was just complaining that we have no engagements and must look forward to a dreadfully flat evening.”

Once again. Jack shot Alison a glance before answering. She opened her mouth to utter some excuse, but to her horror, the earl interjected, “Yes, by all means, sir. Do join us.” His voice was utterly bland, but Alison could have sworn she heard a hint of menacing amusement in his words.

“How can I possibly refuse?” cried Jack gaily. “I look forward to seeing you on the morrow, and please extend my best wishes to Lady Edith.” Donning his hat with a flourish, he bowed once more and left the house.

Alison leaned against the closed door, feeling as though her strength were draining away through her shoes. Looking up, she caught the earl’s sardonic gaze and she cursed the heat that rose in her cheeks like a tide.

“Well now, Miss Fox,” he murmured smoothly, ushering her back into the drawing room, “do tell us all about your friend. He seems such an interesting chap.”

Chapter 10

“Alison,” said Lady Edith as she and her companion strolled along Royal Crescent some mornings later, “no offense, my dear, but you look like a death’s head on a mop stick. Are you sickening? Have you been sleeping well? Is it that Jack Crawford? Has he been importuning you?”

Alison smiled at the older woman. “

I thank you for your concern, my lady. No, I am not sick, and no, I have not been sleeping well. And no, again. Jack has been nothing that is not proper and unexceptionable. It’s just that knowing he is in close proximity to Lord Marchford makes me apprehensive.”

Lady Edith sighed irritably. “You see what you have brought yourself to? You’re afraid of shadows. You are being unconscionably foolish, Alison. March has come to know you over the last week, and he sees you for what you are—a person of goodness and honesty. He has ceased pouring warnings in my ear that you are an adventuress, and now seems pleased that you are with me. If you tell him what happened with Susannah, he will not hold those circumstances against you.”

Alison answered slowly. “If the circumstances were any other than those that caused the deaths of two—and perhaps three—members of his family, I would agree with you. I realize, having become acquainted with him, that Lord Marchford is an eminently reasonable man—except on this one subject. You have heard his vows of revenge. Should he discover that I am the woman he seeks, his good opinion of me will vanish like a drunkard’s good intentions, and he will hate me.”

They had by now reached Lady Edith’s house, and she paused al the steps to face Alison. “Just what is it you think he will do to you, child—have you burnt at the stake?”

Alison closed her eyes. A vision flashed before her of March’s tawny gaze, filled with laughter and affection. Then, the image changed. His lion’s eyes filled with contempt and rage. A chill shivered through her as she realized that his hatred alone would be enough to punish her beyond bearing, but she could not speak this aloud. She opened her eyes and stared out at the park.

“I do not know, my lady, but your nephew ... I feel he can be a hard man with those he deems his enemy.”

Lady Edith sighed again. “Yes, you are right. I have never seen that side of him, of course, but I have heard he is a dangerous man to wrong. I still think you are mistaken in not telling him everything. He must be brought to realize that Susannah was to blame for her own destruction, though to my mind, her husband had a great deal to answer for, as well.”

Alison glanced at her questioningly, but Lady Edith turned to ascend the steps to her house. Once inside, she moved toward the stairs, declaring her intention of resting awhile before luncheon.

Alone, Alison remained in the entrance hall for some moments, simply staring into space before turning to make her way to a sunny chamber at the back of the house where she kept a supply of articles to be mended. She had not even exited the hall, however, when the front door opened to admit Lord Marchford. Alison tensed to flee, hoping that he had not noticed her standing at the far end of the hall. But, even as he closed the door behind him, he turned immediately toward her and a smile lightened his rather forbidding features.

The smile vanished almost immediately, to be replaced by a look of cool appraisal that created an unpleasant pang in Alison’s heart.

“My lord,” she said quickly, moving forward, “we did not expect you today.”

“No, I am aware of that. As I understand it, Meg is out with friends, and it is not yet time for Aunt Edith’s journey to the Pump Room.”

“That is true,” replied Alison, puzzled and inexplicably alarmed. “Lady Edith is upstairs resting.”

She allowed her voice to lift a little at the end of this sentence, as though to make it clear that he had no reason to prolong his visit, but he did not take the hint.

“In that case,” he said amiably, “perhaps we might take the opportunity for some quiet conversation. I would like to come to know you better, and this seems like an ideal time for what Meg describes as a comfortable coze.”

A comfortable coze! Alison could have laughed if she had not been so struck with horror at the earl’s suggestion. She searched frantically in her mind for an excuse to evaporate, but was forestalled by the appearance of Masters, hurrying in to see who had arrived without his notice. On observing Lord Marchford, he hastened to relieve him of hat and walking stick and, with a reproachful glance toward Alison, asked if tea were wished.

Alison could only nod, and smiling faintly, she led the way to the drawing room on the next floor. Her heart was thudding unbearably as she gestured the earl to a settee covered in straw satin and took a matching chair nearby for herself.

Alison folded her hands in her lap and tried to assume a semblance of calm propriety as she waited for Lord Marchford to begin his coze. When he remained silent, merely gazing at her with that same assessing expression, her hand fluttered toward her throat in an unconscious gesture.

“What—what is it you wish to know about me, my lord?”

“First of all—” he hesitated, “it seems I owe you an apology-”

This was the last thing in the world she had expected him to say, and her surprise must have shown on her face.

“I said some rather harsh things to you when we first met,” he continued slowly, “and I have come to realize I was mistaken in my first judgment of you.” His lips curved in a smile that produced an odd thrumming sensation deep inside her. “I can see why my aunt has quite lost her heart to you, and I can only say that, as head of our little family, I am pleased that you have come to her.”