June Calvin (7 page)

“That’s why I was wondering whether you . . .”

“Someone. Not me. I don’t intend to step into the parson’s mousetrap for a good many years yet. There are too many lovely cyprians out there, too many lonely wives and widows, to limit my attentions to one woman. Although . . .” A musing tone entered Carrothers’ voice as he gazed off in the distance. “Nothing to say a man can’t enjoy the muslin company after he gets leg-shackled.”

“Forget I hinted. Davida deserves a husband who’ll keep his marriage vows.”

“Why must you rush into harness, Monty? You’re only twenty-five. And don’t tell me you need an heir. Your cousin Herbert has two fine boys coming up, and . . .”

“On this subject we never have agreed, Stanley. Don’t care for the ‘muslin company’ business. Never have. My one venture in that direction was disastrous, as you’ll recall.”

“Monty, Monty, wives can die in childbirth, too.”

“But not in shame and fear for their immortal soul. No, after Catherine’s death I swore I’d never put another creature in such a situation. She was so frightened, Stanley. Not of dying, but of damnation. But it was me who felt damned, by what I had done to her.”

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “There are ways to prevent . . .”

“But none are sure. Besides, I want something more from life than these shallow, brief, and tawdry liaisons.”

Dryly Stanley intoned, “You and Lady Elspeth are well suited, then, both as proper as parsons. Come, eat up. I want to be at the theater before the last curtain falls. I have my eye on a little opera dancer, mustn’t let anyone else snag her first.”

Pelham rolled his eyes. “You and your opera dancers. It’s disgusting. A man of your years should be thinking of finding a comfort and helpmeet for his old age.”

Brown eyes glinted. “Not quite in my dotage yet. But if I were, assure you I’d find someone older than these eighteen-year-old chits you are agonizing over.”

Since Pelham was well aware that Carrothers’ seemingly shallow attitudes toward females were to some extent a smoke screen to cover a long-standing and very serious love affair with an older married woman, he discreetly decided to let the subject drop. Instead, he worried his roast while considering what tone to take with Elspeth on the morrow, providing she would condescend to receive him.

Chapter Eight

T
he day of the picnic dawned as fair as anyone could have wished. The air was a bit brisk, so Davida wore a dark blue pelisse over a light wool carriage dress in her favorite shade of sky blue. To shield her face from the sun she wore a poke bonnet which matched the pelisse, as did the half boots that peeped from beneath her skirt. Gilbert tucked a lap robe around her, his vivid red hair tossed by the wind.

“Hope you shan’t be too cold. Mother is one of the chaperons. She’s following in the landau if you’d prefer to ride inside.”

“Not at all. I’m enjoying the sunshine. And it will doubtless warm up.”

At the same time that this scene was taking place, Pelham was tucking a cool, condescending Elspeth into his curricle. He was relieved that she had decided to ride with him, but a little put off by her cold manner. Still, he made her comfortable and whipped up his team.

Davida’s prediction of warmer temperatures was justified. By the time the dozen or so carriages and curricles converged on the Curzon family’s estate an hour’s drive from London, the sun had done its work. She surrendered her pelisse to a footman before joining the group gathering on the steps of the Curzons’ stately home.

Her heart did a little flutter dance at the sight of Harrison, looking impossibly handsome in his chocolate brown morning coat and buff inexpressibles. He greeted Davida warmly, his full lips pressing her fingers firmly through her glove. She lowered her eyes in confusion at her unexpectedly strong reaction to him. Was she perhaps falling in love?

“I need to steal your lovely passenger for a moment, Gil. Know you won’t mind.” Without waiting for a response, Curzon led Davida away from the little knot of guests standing on the broad marble steps.

“Miss Gresham, I want to introduce you to my grandmother. She’s the only one of my family in residence today.”

“Oh!” It was so particular, so distinguishing an action that she began to feel rather panicky. She was beginning to have a
tendre
for him, perhaps, but she wasn’t ready to consider a declaration. Introducing her to his family seemed ominously close to proposing.

“Do you think we should? I mean, it’s not quite fair to your other guests, and besides, I didn’t come prepared to . . . I’m rather casually dressed for . . .”

He grinned down at her. “You are adorable when you are flustered. You couldn’t look more fetching, and my grandmama is not in the least intimidating. Please come?”

“Very well.” She succumbed with good grace, and allowed herself to be led into the vast, elegant entry way of the Curzon mansion. Their steps echoed as he steered her into a formal drawing room dominated by an enormous Adam fireplace carved of white marble. A fire crackled in it in spite of the increasing warmth of the day. In front of it, with a firescreen to protect her, huddled an elderly woman, quite bent with age.

“Grandmama, I would like to make Miss Davida Gresham known to you.”

Davida curtsied, and lifted her head to see a pair of shrewd old eyes of the same ice blue as Harrison’s. “So! You bring a young girl to meet me at last. Blue eyes, porcelain complexion, rosy cheeks. A feast for your artist’s eyes, I quite agree. But is there more to her than beauty, I wonder?”

“Much more, Grandmama, as you shall soon have occasion to learn. Unfortunately I have other guests to greet, so we cannot linger.”

Davida blushed furiously. She felt like a prime bit of cattle being paraded and discussed before purchase. Still, she murmured a greeting, smiled prettily, and let herself be led away quite as if she had been more honored than annoyed by this encounter.

When all of his guests had arrived, Curzon began to steer them through the formal gardens. “We’re going to walk to the picnic site. It is through the woods and on the edge of that lake you can glimpse beyond the trees.”

Though some of the young ladies complained about walking, it suited Davida very well. She wanted the opportunity to enjoy the landscaping genius of Capability Brown. She strode out eagerly with Gilbert on one side and Harrison on the other. “You promised us archery, Mr. Curzon. I brought my heavy gloves.” She held up her reticule, her sparkling blue eyes challenging him.

“Indeed, my lovely Diana, the targets are already set up.”

Just behind them, Elspeth, leaning on Pelham’s arm, wrinkled her nose. “I have never felt that archery was a truly ladylike activity myself. The next thing you know, women will begin shooting pistols!”

“I’m afraid I will quite sink myself in your eyes, Lady Elspeth,” Davida tossed back over her shoulders, in no way embarrassed. “I dearly love target practice with pistols, though I don’t hunt. Papa taught me and says I’m an excellent marksman.”

“Are you, indeed?” Curzon frowned. “I am afraid I agree with Lady Elspeth on this. ’Tis most unfeminine, a woman firing a pistol.”

Davida tossed her head dismissively. Pelham laughed. “You’re only afraid she’d beat you, Curzon. Mean to say, everyone knows you can’t hit the target, much less the bulls-eye.”

The shout of laughter from several members of the party caused Curzon to smile somewhat ruefully. “A palpable hit, Monty, but spoken by a man who handles a sword like a cricket bat!”

Their banter continued until they reached the beautifully landscaped clearing, where an elaborate feast was set up and waiting for them. Tables, chairs, silver service, champagne, and gourmet delights by the dozens awaited their pallets, served by footmen in handsome livery.

Afterward, a leisurely walk along the lakeshore was generally agreed to be the best assistance in digesting the large repast. Davida found herself walking with Pelham and Threlbourne, Elspeth having rather conspicuously made a bid for Curzon’s escort.

As she walked along, Davida’s eye was caught by an unusually shaped white rock near the shoreline. She bent to pick it up, and turned its shape over in her hands with pleasure. “Look, Monty, Gil. A trilobite.”

“A . . . what?” Gilbert wrinkled his brow in perplexity.

“Why—so it is. But how did you know?” Pelham’s amazement was almost comical as he took the object from her and examined it closely.

“Do you think females cannot know about fossils? I have quite a collection of them.” Davida retrieved the specimen and dusted it off before dropping it into her reticule.

Since paleontology was one of Pelham’s passions, he was eager to hear more, but Elspeth and Curzon had come up behind them. “Fossils! I do not believe in them.” Elspeth’s voice was shrill. “It is just chance that the rock looks like a living thing. Of course living things can’t be turned into stones.”

Not wishing to come to cuffs with Elspeth, Davida turned away. “Well, they’re interesting, anyway. What I wouldn’t give to see some of the truly amazing finds in America. Have you heard, Monty, of Mr. Benjamin Peale’s discovery of the bones of huge animals, larger than the largest elephants. Just imagine! Such beasts must have once walked the earth.”

Pelham responded eagerly, “I saw one of the skeletons when he exhibited it here, when I was just a child. It awakened my interest in America’s amazing paleontology. Their discoveries have given our taxonomists quite a bit to think about. Are you familiar with Cuvier’s . . .”

Curzon interrupted, frowning. “Are you two talking Greek?”

“No!” Elspeth’s shrilly indignant voice startled them all. “They are talking heathen. It is sacrilegious and against all Scripture to think that giant animals that no longer exist once roamed the earth.”

Pelham turned, obviously goaded by her tone of voice as well as her words. “And pray, Lady Elspeth, how do you account for these complete skeletons of giant animals that have been found?”

“Some natural philosophers think these species lived on the earth before the flood but were wiped out when . . .” Davida began.

But Elspeth, her lovely face distorted with fury, interrupted. “The Devil planted them there as a temptation to those whose pride in their own intellect would lead them into mortal sin.”

“Then I confess to being a terrible sinner.” Pelham bowed stiffly to her, his face dark with anger.

Elspeth stared at him furiously, and then turned to Curzon. “Give me your arm, Harrison. Let us leave the bluestocking and the atheist to their speculations.”

To Davida’s surprise, Curzon did as he was asked, casting a dark, angry look at Davida as she stood frozen with shock between Pelham and Threlbourne.

“I say,” murmured Gilbert uncomfortably.

After a long moment of silence, Pelham turned and took Davida’s arm, leading her in the opposite direction.

“I’m so sorry, Monty,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry so much about me,” he said, smiling and cocking his head. “Unless I miss my guess, you have been damaged a bit, too, Davie.”

“Never mind. I am no bluestocking, but if Mr. Curzon can’t tolerate a woman with no interests other than gowns and jewelry, it is best we should understand each other before . . .”

He gave her a close look. “By the tone of your voice, I’d guess you are not as indifferent as you allow.”

She shook her head sadly. “But my affections are not as engaged as yours are, I don’t believe.”

“Fortunate girl.” Pelham’s mouth was set in grim line. They silently returned to the main party, which was congregating around the archery range.

Davida made up her mind to ignore the incident by the lake and enjoy herself, and she did. A lively competition sprang up, and she bested all female rivals and most of the males before losing by a narrow margin to Curzon, who muttered in her ear, “I
think
you did not let me win, my dear.”

“It would not be worth my trouble to do so,” she snapped, her eyes glittering defiantly.

Curzon’s mood had gradually improved during their archery match, and the look he gave her now was admiring. “I like your spirit, Miss Gresham. You do not stoop to truckle, do you?”

She relaxed a little, giving him a tentative smile. “I hope I would never feel the need to do so.”

“With me, never.” He chucked her under the chin, a broad grin on his handsome face.

As he turned away to accept congratulations on his win and face his remaining opponents, Davida couldn’t help but wonder. If he truly felt that way, why had he looked so troubled over the fossil incident? She sighed as she stripped her archery gloves off. Sometimes men were very hard to understand.

When the party drifted back toward the circular drive in front of the mansion, Curzon took note of Threlbourne’s high-spirited grays plunging and challenging his tiger for control. He turned suddenly to Pelham, who was stiffly escorting a wooden-faced Elspeth.

“I hear you and Gilbert are planning a rematch of your famous race.”

“Oh, yes!” His face lit up. “What say, Gil?”

Gilbert and Davida were following close behind. “Any time, Monty.”

“I’d like to test my team against the both of you,” Curzon said. “Miss Gresham informs me that she thinks they’d leave you in the dust.”

“Never, Davie!” Pelham grinned at her. “Harrison’s blacks are just for show.”

“Will you put a monkey on that, Pelham?”

“Absolutely. Name the time and place.”

Elspeth gasped. “Racing your horses is bad enough, but betting is an abomination.”

“Oh, save your puritanical rantings,” Pelham snapped. “I’m no gamester, but a friendly wager does no harm.”

“Indeed, it does
you
a great deal of harm.” Elspeth drew herself up. “I find I do not wish to return to town with so irresponsible an escort. I shall ask Lady Margaret to take me up in her landau.”

“As you wish.” Pelham bowed stiffly to her and then turned away. “What say, Gilbert? No time like the present. Shall we show Curzon what real horseflesh can do?”

“I’m in, Monty, but not today. Must take Miss Gresham back, don’t you know.”

“Oh, no, I’d love to watch the race first. But perhaps you shouldn’t do it right now, Monty.” Her eyes anxiously followed Elspeth’s stiff march up the steps of Elmwood.

But other members of the party had heard of the challenge by now and were eagerly urging the race to be held right away.

“Nonsense!” Pelham’s eyes flashed defiance. “No reason not to race! No time like the present, is there? What’s the best course, Harry?”

Curzon quickly outlined a route for the race, sending a footman pell-mell to tell his grooms to ready his blacks.

The race would begin and end at the gate to the Curzons’ long circular drive, so those who chose to observe, which included most of the picnic guests, were able to see them off and wait at the finish line for their return.

Just before he mounted his curricle, Pelham came to Davida. “Well, Davie, since you seem to be the instigator of this race . . .”

She sighed, tears stinging her eyes. “Oh, Monty. I never dreamed the trouble I’d cause you.”

“I wasn’t going to chastise you. Perhaps I am indebted to you.” He glanced toward the mansion, his face thoughtful. “I am quite out of patience with Elspeth. I only wondered if you wished to make a small wager on the outcome?”

Davida laughed away her tears. “Certainly not! Curzon’s blacks are true speedsters, but you may be the superior whip, and Gilbert is no sluggard. I’ll just cheer you all three on.”

He laughed. “Very diplomatic, Davie. But you’ll wish you’d laid your blunt on me.” He mounted his curricle and drew it alongside the other two. Davida noticed that Curzon was looking back at them, a scowl marring his features.
Now what?
She stared at him in surprise.
He certainly is a moody man.

The race was hidden from the observers for most of its route, but when they had completed their circuit, they emerged from the trees, charging toward the finish line. Curzon’s blacks were just ahead of Pelham’s bays, and as they thundered past the cheering group of young people, it was clear that the blacks had won, if only by a nose. Oddly, Lord Threlbourne’s carriage was nowhere in sight.

Amid tumultuous cheers the two men jumped from their curricles and tossed the reins to the waiting grooms. The steaming horses were led away to be cooled down as the antagonists clapped one another on the shoulders and turned toward their friends.