The Worldly Widow (20 page)

Without moving her lips she said, "Richard, I
'
m warning you. Be on your best behavior
, or else…
"

The Viscount was upon them, and Richard
'
s brows drew together when he silently suffered the insult of having his curls ruffled as if he were an infant. To prevent further indignities, he jammed his cap upon his head.

"I collect it
'
s nurse
'
s day off,
"
observed Lord Temple, taking in the mismatched buttons and buttonholes on Master Jocelyn
'
s velvet jacket. Before Annabelle could make a move to prevent it, the Viscount deftly corrected the error.

Annabelle glanced in some trepidation at the gathering storm on her young son
'
s face. There could be no doubt about it. His bottom lip projected in what could only be described as a pout. She knew that look well, and trembled.

The Viscount, having paid his unwelcome compliments to the son, turned his undivided attention upon the mother. Annabelle, clearly distracted, laid a warning hand on Richard
'
s shoulder.

"Richard!
"
she pleaded.

Disregarding his mother
'
s evident panic, in a clear carrying voice he piped, "What
'
s an adulteress?
"
It was a question which had exercised his mind since Dean Andrews had first used the unfamiliar word during the sermon. Since then he had asked his mother to explain it at least a dozen times only to be bullied into silence. Naturally, after that, he
'
d memorized it and had added it to his store of not-nice words with which to astonish his cousins when he was next in Sussex. From the
Viscount
'
s pained look and the prim set of his mother
'
s lips, he deduced that it was more wicked than he had supposed. Calmly he waited for the explosion.

Annabelle threw an agonized look at the Viscount. "Richard, you will apologize at once for using that naughty word,
"
she told her son with a dark meaningful look which promised retribution.

Carefully Richard used the toe of his black patent pump to position a small pebble which he
'
d found on the pavement. "Dean Andrews used the word, and he didn
'
t apologize,
"
he said. As if to prove his point, he added, "He read it from the Bible.
"

"Spare the rod, spoil the child,
"
said Lord Temple darkly.

Annabelle was torn between umbrage at Lord Temple
'
s patronizing tone and chagrin at being shown up as a parent who exercised little control over her child. Almost desperately she remembered how Lord Dalmar had handled a similar situation in her own drawing room the night before, and wondered what tack he would take in the present circumstances.

She exhaled slowly and bent her head to hiss in her son
'
s ear, "You
'
re quite right, Richard. 'Adulteress
'
is not a naughty word. And when we are in the carriage, I shall satisfy your curiosity. However, young man, you
thought
it was a naughty word and meant to shock Lord Temple. For that, you
will
apologize. This instant, Richard. And I mean it.
"

The game was beginning to bore the boy. He recognized that his mother had reached the end of her tether. Furthermore, she had inadvertently paid him a very high compliment. "Young man,
"
she had called him. Though he did not like Lord Temple, nor indeed any of the gentlemen who courted his mother, it was not she that he wished to discomfit. He apologized very nicely. Looking from one to the other, he had the satisfaction of knowing that while he was once again in his mother
'
s good graces, he still remained at outs with his lordship.

Honor satisfied, Annabelle was not about to test the limits of the fragile truce which she had secured. She moved resolutely to cross Piccadilly to her waiting carriage.

"Annabelle, please. I must talk to you,
"
said Temple.

"Not now, Gerry,
"
she answered, looking pointedly at her son and then at the knots of people who stood about on the pavement.

"It
'
s important. It concerns Lord Dalmar. There are things about him you should know. It will take only a few minutes. Why don
'
t I ride with you in your carriage?
"

Lord Dalmar was a subject she did not wish to discuss with Temple, or anyone else, for that matter. For how could she explain to others what she herself did not understand?

"No. It
'
s all been said. Leave it, Gerry, please, or we can never be friends.
"

"This has nothing to do with last night. Please, just a few minutes of your time? I
'
ll wait on you this afternoon, if I may?
"

"No, not this afternoon,
"
she replied quickly. The Earl had promised to call on her that very afternoon, and the last thing she wanted was a repeat performance of the night before. "Tomorrow morning I
'
ll be in my office. If you think it
'
s really necessary, you
'
ll find me there.
"

"Oh, it
'
s necessary,
"
he told her grimly. "Until you hear what I have to say, don
'
t have any truck with the man. He
'
s dangerous, Annabelle. I mean it.
"

Temple
'
s words did not alarm Annabelle unduly. In the years since she had known the Viscount, it had been his practice to try to cut out his rivals by relaying some choice tidbit of scandal which he had ferreted out. Annabelle recognized the ploy for what it was. At one time she
'
d been amused by such obvious tactics. Of late she was coming to view them in a less charitable light. It occurred to her that she was becoming more and more disenchanted with Temple
'
s doglike devotion. She grew impatient with herself. Time and time again Lord Temple had proved himself a worthy friend. That he had a few annoying traits went without saying. What man didn
'
t? She herself was no paragon. It behooved her, of all people, to be more forgiving of a friend
'
s foibles. And their friendship was of long standing. In spite of Dalmar
'
s meddling, she hoped it would continue so.

At the thought of the Earl and his projected visit, butterflies began to stir in Annabelle
'
s stomach. She barely tasted what
she ate for luncheon, so occupied was her mind in arranging the coining interview to her advantage. Like a general on the eve of battle, she examined her strategy from all angles. He was intent on discussing terms of surrender—hers, of course. But she had discovered his Achilles heel. And she could not quite stifle a gleeful smile when she glanced at her small son—she had a secret weapon she had yet to unleash upon the unsuspecting Earl. All in all, she thought the balance of power tipped slightly in her favor. With somet
h
ing like shock she realized that in spite of nervous tension and some misgivings, she was possessed of a strange and not altogether unpleasant humor. She was anticipating the coming confrontation with eagerness, if not downright relish. It had become her object to humble the man, and for the first time since she had met him, victory seemed to be within her grasp. The notion was heady.

She set the scene with meticulous care. The garden, she decided, would suit her purposes admirably, since it was in clear view of every window at the back of the house. And though Bertie was gone for the day, Annabelle did not doubt that her son would prove a formidable chaperone. If past events were anything to go by, he would not let his mother out of his sight when any man with the smell of "suitor
"
appeared on the horizon. And Richard had the nose of a bloodhound.

Though it was early October and there were few leaves on the trees, the weather was unseasonably mild. Not a breath of wind stirred. Wearing only a long-sleeved velvet spencer over her blue dimity, she settled herself on a bench overlooking a small fountain in a far corner of the garden. Nearby, sitting cross-legged on the flagstones, was Richard. From somewhere, he had procured a bag of clothes pegs and was setting them out in what appeared to be military order. Annabelle
'
s brows drew together, but she kept her own counsel.

From time to time, mother and son exchanged a few desultory comments. After an interval, Annabelle picked up her needles and examined the work in progress. She was knitting a muffler for her son, a task in which she took little pleasure. She had always preferred to sew and had some talent as a seamstress. Though she was in the habit of sewing any number of fine lawn shirts, satin breeches, and fancy
waistcoats for her son, he remained unimpressed. It seemed that some old crone of a nurse, a dab hand with knitting needles, was forever presenting his cousins with stockings and mufflers and suchlike, and nothing would do till Richard sported an almost identical article of clothing. Bertie had offered to relieve Annabelle of a chore which she obviously found little to her liking. But Annabelle knew her duty. As she told Bertie, a boy ought to be able to take for granted these small tributes of a mother
'
s love and devotion. With great perseverance she attacked her knitting needles.

Half an hour later saw Annabelle yawn from sheer boredom. She counted her stitches and was relieved to discover that she had the same number as she had started with.

"Who says the age of miracles is over?
"
she said aloud, and had to explain the joke to her son.

They were both laughing when the maid announced Lord Dalmar. Annabelle could scarcely prevent herself from rubbing her hands together. "Well, go and fetch him, Mary, go and fetch him,
"
she said, smiling a secret smile to herself. As was to be expected, Richard scowled. Under her breath, Annabelle murmured, "Don
'
t fail me, son. Don
'
t fail me.
"

Chapter Eight

D
almar
'
s eyes searched the small brick-walled garden and found her, almost immediately, seated in stately splendor beside a stone fountain that gushed water from a lion
'
s snarling head. At his approach she turned slightly and elevated her chin. She looked, he thought, like some pagan warrior queen in her chariot, exuding confidence, poised to accept the tribute of one of her vassal yarls. She wore no bonnet, and the warm rays of the afternoon sun gilded her crown of neatly coiffed dark hair with threads of purest gold. It was no wonder, he thought, looking directly into eyes as clear and brilliant as a Portuguese sky, that men were constrained to worship from afar, as if she were a planet in some distant galaxy, mysterious, beckoning, and yet forever beyond their reach.

Not for the first time, he reminded himself that he had contrived, once before, to reach out and grasp the unattainable. Stars were known, on occasion, to fall to earth. And if, like Zeus on Mount Olympus, he had to shake the heavens himself, he would do it and force her into his orbit.

Why this woman, more than any other, had the power to stir the profoundest reaches of his male psyche was not clear to him. Her appeal was more than sensual, though he could not deny, in all conscience, that the pull on his senses was irresistible. No woman, simply by walking into his line of vision, had ever brought his senses to such a pitch. Annabelle sent his pulse surging like a tidal wave. He could feel the onset before his conscious mind registered that she was in his
vicinity. Even the fine hairs on the back of his hands and on
\
his neck seemed to be turned to her slightest gesture.

There had been many women in his life, but no one of any importance. His relationships had been transitory. He had preferred it that way. Women were weak. A man could easily hurt them if he had a mind to. Fragile women terrified him. His mother had been a fragile woman and no match for his father.

In some ways, he was like his father. Or perhaps all men were the same. He liked to have things his own way. At times he could be intimidating. He did not think that any man coul
d intimidate Annabelle Jocelyn.

He was thirty-four years old, and he had never shared more with a woman than a few hours
'
pleasure in bed. He had never wanted more. He wanted more now. For the first time he could envision a different kind of life for himself. At the center of that life was Annabelle. Suddenly everything seemed possible.

She was satin and steel, as innocent as a newborn babe, as sensuous as a kitten. She was like the kaleidoscope he had once treasured as a boy. When he looked at her, he saw all the colors of the rainbow. He had never met a woman like her and knew that he never would again. He craved her warmth and animation with a hunger which surprised him. She was everything that he had always wanted but never hoped to possess.

He
'
d been happy before, of course, but he now recognized that emotion for what it was. Not the presence of something, but its absence. As a boy, when his father left the house, he was happy. When he was sent away to school, out of his parents
'
orbit, he was happy. When he joined the army and left disgrace behind him in England, he was happy. It seemed to him at that moment that he had never asked for very much out of life. Annabelle Jocelyn had walked into his line of vision, and suddenly he wanted it all. He had tasted the sweet rapture of her surrender and would not rest until she had ceded him full title to all the mysteries of her femininity.

Base, Dalmar,
he thought,
and so blatantly and unquestionably male.
But such was her effect on him. She had roused the sleeping beast of everything that was masculine in his nature,
unconsciously inciting him to first possess and then protect the female of his choice. Only when she had accepted his claims to who and what she was would he be free to offer the generosity of the victor.

Strange, he thought, and so unlike anything he had ever experienced before in his relations with a woman. He lowered his eyelashes to veil the naked intent which he felt sure she would be able to read in his eyes. He had, perhaps, overplayed his hand, betraying too much too soon.
Gently, softly,
he cautioned himself,
lest your quarry take flight before you have tamed her to your hand.

His eyes shifted to take in the stiff and trenchant figure of what was evidently Annabelle
'
s self-appointed protector. The Queen
'
s knight stood guard, so it seemed, and must be disarmed before he, Dalmar, could make his move to checkmate the Queen. As if he were, in truth, in the throes of battle, every instinct came alive, investing him with a sixth sense, alerting him to all the possibilities for success or failure in his mission.

His smile was lazy and carefully devoid of any overt show of confidence which might warn his two adversaries that he had divined their strategy. They could not know that he had received advance warning of how they would play the game.

Introductions were made and a few commonplaces exchanged. Annabelle invited the Earl to take the place beside her.

Both mother and son looked expectantly at the tin box the Earl carried under his arm. He made no move to satisfy their curiosity, but negligently placed it on the ground at his feet.

Annabelle became involved with her knitting, and under cover of counting her stitches, she surreptitiously took stock of the Earl. Apart from his exquisitely tailored, black cutaway coat, his attire was casual by Sabbath standards—tight-fitting beige pantaloons and hessians. Not that there was anything careless in his dress. Everything about him attested to his years of military service, from his carefully brushed crop of dark hair to the shine on his tassled hessians. He held himself well, and his proud carriage seemed only to enhance his broad shoulders and spare, muscular frame, hardened, she supposed, from endurance to the sort of life she could not even guess at. It was, however, that bedroom smile and those boudoir eyes which warned a lady not to take the gentleman at face value. Just looking at him made her feel that she had already given in to temptation. Her eyes traveled to her son. Her knight, she thought with a smile, would keep her to the straight and narrow.

Unbeknownst to his mother, however, Master Jocelyn was thrown off balance. For one thing, the Earl paid him not the slightest notice. For another, the tin box which Lord Dalmar unconsciously kicked with the toe of one foot looked remarkably similar to one belonging to his cousin James. In James
'
s box there was a whole regiment of tin soldiers. That palatable thought was enough to divert young Richard from his purpose for a good five minutes.

At last he remembered himself. Thinking of his earlier success of that morning, a propos of nothing, he demanded, "Do you know what an adulteress is?
"

"Yes,
"
responded the Earl without batting an eyelash.

If Richard was disappointed with his lordship
'
s show of indifference, he did not divulge it. He tried again, but this time, with more deliberate provocation. "I am not permitted to say the word
adulteress
in company. Mama forbids it.
"

Dalmar raised one sardonic eyebrow at this veiled insult and glanced at Annabelle
'
s bent head. It was evident that there was to be no help from that quarter since the lady was assiduously counting stitches under her breath. The faint color across her cheekbones, however, betrayed an unquiet mind.

Dalmar looked directly into Master Jocelyn
'
s challenging dark eyes and said negligently, "I should think not. A gentleman would not dream of embarrassing a lady by using such indelicate expressions in her hearing. And there are other words of that ilk with which a gentleman is careful to exercise a modicum of discretion.
"
He sliced a hard look at Annabelle, but could not catch her eye. His voice droned slowly on. "Words such as
damn, bloody, hell, bastard
…
"

"David!
"

Dalmar
'
s artless glance lifted to meet Annabelle
'
s shocked stare. Hot color flooded her cheeks. "I beg your pardon,
"
he
said, "I was under the impression that your mind was elsewhere. If I had supposed that you had heard one word of this man-to-man conversation, I would have desisted at once. Richard, I am sure, would have done likewise.
"

For all that it was softly spoken, she felt the bite of his censure. Flustered, she stared at the Earl, then quickly glanced away and looked at her son. It was evident from the boy
'
s expression that Dalmar
'
s credit had risen perceptibly in his eyes. A few swear words and the Earl had practically won the boy over. She could not help but admire the man
'
s technique. Her other beaux had set themselves to courting her son
'
s favor and failed miserably. Dalmar, she thought, was too clever by half.

"You see how it is with loose speech,
"
he said addressing Richard. "Between gentlemen, such talk is commonplace. With ladies, it is otherwise. Their sensibilities are easily ruffled. I think we both owe your mother an apology, don
'
t
you?"

Richard sat back on his heels a
nd considered. "Man-to-
man
"
were heady words for a boy who was going on five and a half, almost. Moreover, the Earl had included him in the exclusive fraternity of which he so much longed one day to be a member. "Between gentlemen,
"
Lord Dalmar had said. Richard looked at his mother with pitying eyes. She could never aspire so high.

He did not hesitate to act the part of the gentleman and add his apology to Lord Dalmar
'
s. Annabelle accepted them with something less than grace, mumbling an incoherent reply which set the boy to wondering.

When he next addressed himself to Lord Dalmar, there was less restraint in his manner. "Do you have a dog?
"

"Yes,
"
answered the Earl. "Several in fact. And you?
"

"Oh no,
"
answered Richard wistfully. "Mama doesn
'
t like dogs.
"

"Oh?
"
said Dalmar, looking at Annabelle.

"I was attacked by a dog as a child,
"
she explained. She sent her son a speaking look, knowing that the next predictable question was already forming on his lips. But Richard had eyes only for the Earl.

"Do you have a horse?
"
he asked.

"Of course,
"
answered the Earl. "Doesn
'
t everyone?
"

"No, but I mean a real horse, one that you can ride. Not one to pull your carriage.
"

"Yes, I have a horse, a whole stableful of them. You
'
re not going to tell me that your Mama doesn
'
t allow you to ride?
"

Annabelle quickly interposed, "Richard is only five years old. There
'
s plenty of time for him to have his own mount.
"

"Five and a half,
"
corrected Richard, frowning.

Dalmar flashed him a commiserating man-to-man look. "If you like, we could go riding in the park some morning before the paths are choked with carriages and so on. Naturally, I
'
ll supply the mounts.
"

"
Thank you. But I am afraid that is impossible,
"
said Annabelle.

"Mama doesn
'
t ride,
"
said Richard.

"Don
'
t tell me!
"
exclaimed Dalmar. "She was attacked by a horse when she was a child.
"

Richard chortled.

Annabelle glowered. "I was thrown by a horse,
"
she said, as stiff as a board. When no one tendered any interest, she went on in an aggrieved tone, "My shoulder was dislocated. It was agony to have it put to rights.
"

"Quite,
"
said the Earl. "When you come down to Gilcomston—that
'
s my estate in Hampshire, by the by—I
'
ll teach you both to ride.
"

"I don
'
t want to learn to ride,
"
said Annabelle, deliberately employing her best lecturing voice, the one that never failed to send her employees scurrying for cover.

The Earl was not intimidated. "Balderdash! Everyone should know how to ride. Even ladies. Isn
'
t that so, Richard?
"