The Aristocrat's Lady

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“My father was the most giving of men—of his time, his money, even just his ear—and I loved helping him tend the estate. It was a wonderful childhood. Unfortunately my mother’s parents were killed in a carriage accident soon after I was born.” She did not go to her dark place at these words. He wondered at it. But her eyes crinkled with her smile and she said, “Ten years later we were surprised by the birth of Chelsea.”

Devlin felt the old questions coming to the surface as they sometimes did when he was with his grandmother.

How could she believe a loving God would take her grandparents in a carriage accident so suddenly when they had only just begun to enjoy being a family? He wanted to ask her because somehow he thought she could explain it to him in a way his own grandmother could not. They were almost back in Berkeley Square, and somehow he knew it would be an intense conversation; perhaps it would be better saved for a later date.

She had already been speaking again during his thoughts. “… yes, you may groan at the word. I am quite the bluestocking!”

How very different she was from anyone he had ever met! All the more because she had no way of knowing that being well-read was not disparaging in his eyes. And despite her horrified whisper, he knew she really did not care whether she had horrified him or not. He could not come up with the proper rejoinder before she started again.

“But the Bible has always been my favorite book. I love the idea that man could, with God’s help, achieve the wisdom of Solomon. Indeed, that is how my horse got his name!”

He somehow felt her every nuance, that she felt pleased when he understood when she was serious and when she was teasing.

“There is not much more to tell, to be honest. The rest is a little hard for me to talk about. My father got sick when I was seventeen, and he never recovered. I treasure the last few weeks I had with him.” She kept talking, but he noticed the lone tear that ran down her cheek. “Of course Mama was devastated, and though Chelsea could not quite grasp what was happening, she knew her world was changing. It was one of the darkest periods of my life.”

Devlin was completely silent, allowing her time to get her composure. He also dimly locked away in the back of his mind her statement that it had been one of the worst events of her life. Confound it! Were there more? Had this “accident” been even harder for her? He suddenly thought he might never get to know the lovely young woman buried under the protective layers she had constructed. And it disturbed his peace of mind. He wanted to know it.

“We had to move to the dowager house, of course. It was not an easy time, but it has become the norm for us now. The new earl is not married, and enjoys Town life, so he is not much at home. He is happy to allow me and Mama to continue our attention to the estate and its tenants.” She gave a relieved smile. “May we now end this retrospective of my life once and for all?”

He laughed and hinted that, on the contrary, he had only just begun.

They had arrived back at the house, and he took her hand to help her down. They stepped into the foyer and divested their coats and hats to Geeves. “Stop, stop, I vow you are as tenacious as a hound during the hunt. I refuse to waste one more minute discussing such things.” Why did he feel there was so much she was not telling him?

“At dinner, sir, turnabout will be fair play. You shall have to tell me all about your life! My mundane existence can be of no possible further interest to you.”

But mundane would never be a word used to describe her life if he was any judge. He sensed a reserve in her; she skirted around areas he would have delved further into. He did not know why he was genuinely interested in knowing more, he only knew that he was!

Chapter Four

She was true to her word during dinner, and most of the conversation had centered on his life. He believed he had handled it adeptly. His conscience nudged him, reminding him of things he had purposely omitted, that he had not shown the integrity they had agreed upon. He tried to determine if omission equaled lying and he decidedly convinced himself it did not.

Lady Beaumont hurried them both upstairs to freshen up before dinner, and as he came back down, he paused, not knowing precisely the direction he should go. He heard a haunting melody coming from a room to his right and he took the liberty of going in. Lady Beaumont stood in front of the fire, warming her hands while Lady Nicole sat behind the pianoforte, her eyes closed, playing a piece he had never heard before. He watched her play with so much feeling. He was mesmerized!

“I hope I have not kept you waiting long.” He watched as Nicole rose from the piano bench, quite flushed, then he addressed her mother. “I have been listening to your daughter’s playing with much pleasure. She is quite accomplished.”

Lady Beaumont thanked him prettily and herded them to the informal dining room like a mother hen.

The “informal” dining room was charming, and Devlin knew without a doubt this must be Nicole’s favorite room. It was at the back of the house and the outside wall was constructed completely of French doors. He could see that lights had been set up along the veranda that glistened, as well, in the garden beyond the balcony. He deduced that the sun must flood this room with light and warmth in the mornings, and he thought his grandmother, too, would love it.

Nicole began to tease him almost immediately about his childhood and he believed the conversation went well, that he made his life sound perfectly normal. He told her about growing up at DeVale Priory, “a cavernous pile of bricks that my parents enjoyed boasting of.” He admitted to a sort of loneliness in being an only child, but he flattered himself that he made it sound quite mundane. He finished his story with the simple fact that his childhood had centered on riding lessons and tutors.

When Nicole asked about his parents, he related facts, though admittedly not in the greatest of detail. He candidly told her he had seen little of his parents when he was young. They were very powerful in London’s social throng, so they lived there much of the year.

He so much wanted to tell her more, and tried to determine if he would have, were they alone. He found himself feeling uncommonly comfortable with her, and he felt strange tendencies to talk about things he had never shared with anyone else. Truth to tell, knowing her gift for listening intently, he deduced that she was able to fill in many of the gaps on her own but she did not gush with sympathy. There was no doubt she felt it; she just knew how to contain it.

He smiled to himself as she said, “My lord, I should like to hear more about your grandmother. I do so hope she is feeling … better.”

The little minx! She still did not believe he possessed a grandmother, and she thought she was trapping him in front of her mother!

“Mama, may we remain a little longer? When we get to the drawing room, Chelsea will be there and all coherent conversation will certainly be impossible!” She said this with a smile to show there was no malice in the words. “I am eager to hear all about Lord Devlin’s grandmother. She sounds like such a dear.”

“I should not mind, Lady Beaumont, if you do not.” He barely stifled a laugh at her startled reaction. If he was willing to talk about her, Nicole must now know there was a grandmother! Still looking at her plate, she smiled and nodded, acknowledging defeat.

“A mind reader,” he said, clapping his hands slowly. “You have hit the nail on the head, my lady. She was always caring of me, and I got to spend much time with her when my parents were in Town. I will own she often tried to protect me from my parents and tutors when I … ahem, used bad judgment in my behavior.”

Her laughter conveyed her thoughts.

“You may tease all you like, my lady, but if you think that she always gives in to me, and does not give me a piece of her mind more often than not, no doubt you would be pleasantly surprised.”

Nicole laughed out loud at his absurdity.

“May I suggest, Lady Beaumont,” he said, “that we now go to the drawing room where I may meet your other, possibly more charming, daughter?”

Lady Beaumont became flustered with his teasing and could not tell whether to take him seriously or not. Devlin was almost overset when she gave a great sigh as she mumbled, “I am afraid, Lord Devlin, if you are truly hoping that Chelsea takes away any bad impression of the family, this evening is truly doomed.”

But despite Lady Beaumont’s predictions, the rest of the evening passed very pleasantly. Truth be told, more than pleasantly.

Nicole’s sister delighted him from the moment she was introduced to him. He thought how odd it was, considering he had little experience with thirteen-year-old girls. They enjoyed tea and dessert, and Nicole’s sister even convinced him to play a game of spillikins, which he had not played since he was a boy, and which he conveniently lost to her.

When Lady Beaumont had finally chided Chelsea that it was past her bedtime, Devlin decided to take his leave soon upon her heels. However, when he looked at Nicole, she was staring serenely into the fire. Her laughter and swift rejoinders convinced him she was aware of all that went on during the game, but he noticed that much of the time she was quiet and thoughtful. Instead of following his instincts, he acted upon a heretofore unknown desire to extend the evening.

Devlin addressed Lady Beaumont with a pleading air. “My dear ma’am, I know I should depart and allow you to seek your beds, but I wonder if I might ask your indulgence awhile longer. I could not help but notice your beautifully lit garden, and I hoped Lady Nicole would honor me with a brief view of it from your portico. We discovered the night we met on the Swathmore terrace that we shared an interest in things horticultural. I promise we will not actually venture onto the grounds. However, I should appreciate the opportunity to get a closer look than I had from the dining room.”

He knew his request was odd, and should Nicole’s mother be of a matchmaking bent, he could be jumping into the proverbial frying pan. But he believed Nicole’s intent never to marry, and he had actually invited her mother to join them to dash any hopes he might have raised.

“I am sure you do not need me along for a few moments of fresh air,” her mother had kindly answered. “Indeed, I should only be in your way.” He was caught unawares as she then finished, “Toby will be chaperon enough, to be sure.”

He had hoped his astonishment had not shown as she bid them both good-night and cautioned her daughter not to stay outside long enough to catch a chill.

He had learned from the afternoon not to let his confusion over the servant cause an outburst of anger, but he felt the need to defend himself anyway. In a polite but serious tone he stated, “I promise I do not intend to compromise you by my request, Nicole.” He had risen and gone to her chair to take her hand and place it upon his arm.

She shook her head and laughed as they wandered onto the terrace. “My lord, you must stop seeing Toby as a threat. I’ve tried to explain that Toby is a fixture in our lives and we often take his presence for granted. In fact, you have made me quite conscious of the fact that we do not appreciate him as we should.” Before he could respond, she laughed again. “Be assured my mother would never have allowed this without Toby’s presence.”

Devlin had to lean closer to hear her words, a habit he had come to enjoy in earnest. She led him to a bench at the end of the terrace. “Would you like to sit a moment?”

Devlin could not see the large servant, but he assumed her lowered voice meant that he was near and that she did not wish him to hear their conversation.

Nicole instantly began to talk of the garden now twinkling in front of them. Her love of it was very obvious to him, and his own interest was piqued by their mutual pursuit.

“It was Mr. Benson, our gardener, who thought of interspersing the plants with covered lanterns so it could be savored by day or night. He allows me the honor of the plants on the veranda, but the garden is his domain.” She sat quietly a moment. “I feel so close to God when I am out of doors. I am amazed that His creation is available to us just by sitting amidst a small garden.” He had waited for such an opening, when alone, to discuss this God she and his grandmother allowed to pervade their lives. Would now be the time?

Quite unexpectedly she said, “Devlin, close your eyes.” She leaned her head back against the rough brick while closing hers. He was so surprised he had not even time to enjoy her use of his name.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I am not a lunatic! Close your eyes and tell me what you smell.”

He felt a little foolish, but did as he was bid. “I suppose flowers would be too obvious?”

She giggled, then shushed him. “God has given us five wonderful senses. What a waste not to use them all. Try again.”

He sat with his eyes closed and wondered if she was a little more than he bargained for, when suddenly a specific scent overcame him. “I believe I smell roses. Are we near roses?”

“Yes, yes!” she exclaimed as if she were a teacher happy with her student’s progress. “The trellis next to us has climbing roses. They are my favorite.”

He felt exuberant, just because he had pleased her! He suddenly anticipated a continuation of this exercise.

“But they are the flowers that are closest to you,” she said. “You must try again, but now you must get past the roses. Try to determine some others.”

His pleasure quickly dissipated. It had proven harder than it seemed, and he had worried about disappointing her. His only hope was to turn the tables.

“What do you smell, Nicole?”

She took a long time to speak and he wondered if she had heard him. He opened his eyes to await her reply and decided he was content to simply watch her.

“I, too, smell the roses. But when I get past the roses I can smell grass, freshly scythed. And, of course, I smell the fishpond. When the passion flowers fall into the water, it changes their scent. It goes from a cloying sweet one to an amazingly pungent one. But flowers are only a part of it. I can smell the smoke from the chimney and the new hay from Mr. Loft’s stable. It makes me think of the country and wagon rides.”

She had grown quiet again, but seemed perfectly relaxed.

And he had been surprised. He had been able to smell those things, too, when she had pointed them out. He was sure he would never view his horticultural interest in the same way!

But Nicole began to speak again. “I can picture Mr. Keats in such a setting as this when he wrote,

‘And in the midst of this wide quietness/A rosy sanctuary will I dress/with the wreath’d trellis of a working brain/with buds, and bell, and stars without name …’”

Then she had told him, a little shyly, “I also smell you. I mean, your cologne. I am not familiar with it but I remember it from the night we met on the terrace. So it evokes memories of a lit cigar and the faint aroma of leather and horses.” She suddenly sat up straight but did not look at him.

“What are you about letting me … ramble on like this?” Her cheeks flamed and she knew he could see it in the well-lit garden. “I believe I may have to stay off moonlit terraces with you, my lord. I promise I am usually much more proper and much less fanciful.”

“You were not rambling, my dear, and I thought we agreed on Devlin. I do believe I shall never take a simple garden lightly again.” He paused a moment, then went on, “I admit I had an ulterior motive for wanting to share your terrace.”

This had lifted her face, and he noticed questioning apprehension in her posture. “It is nothing untoward or nefarious, Nicole.” He did take a more serious turn, however. “I know it is not my business, but you say you will never marry. I should like to know why.” He went on hurriedly, thinking that even as he asked it, he felt a niggling desire that it were not so. “I find it surprising that such a delightful, intelligent woman should disdain that illustrious institution.”

He sensed another of her inner battles raging and felt a little remorse that he had broken the pleasant mood. Once again, she surprised him.

“I do not suppose my reasons much different from your own. I am aware that is a great presumption on my part, as we have not yet discussed your reasons for avoiding it, but I suspect that both are based on the general premise that we should be better off unmarried.”

“That is very vague, Nicole. If you would rather not confide in me, you may certainly tell me to mind my own affairs.”

“I have no reluctance to discuss it. It is more that while you may understand my overall desire to escape the institution … as a man you may not comprehend additional personal reasons.”

“As a man I may not. As a friend I would certainly try.”

“That was very prettily said, sir.” She sighed and gave a resigned shrug to her shoulders. “I suppose I should most object to relinquishing my freedom. I believe one reason is a result of my upbringing. My father allowed me such free rein, and you already know how much I enjoy sharing the daily management of Beaufort Hall with Ben, our bailiff. I have yet to meet a man who would allow me that partnership.”

She was relaxed again, but her thoughts had turned inward. He did not wish to interrupt her contemplation. She finally said, “I thought once that I had, but it came to nothing.”

He was surprised that jealousy had been his first response; he knew instantly he had no right to be so. “You have had your heart broken and fear it happening again?”

She laughed softly. “Michael has no bearing on my decision. We were engaged for a brief time, but he found … We found we did not suit.” She took a short pause. “No, it is a matter of freedom, as I have said. I should be quite content, I think, to live out my days surrounded by family and friends. But it provides me independence as well.” She forthrightly asked him, “Does that shock you, my lord?”

It seemed a well-rehearsed answer to him. Perhaps, like him, she had deeper reasons that she did not wish to share. He wanted to ask more about her broken engagement, but she seemed reticent. Instead, he simply replied, “No, Nicole, that does not shock me. You are an intelligent woman and there is no reason you should have to hide it. However, I would assume that as a female you might regret the loss of having children. In fact, as a male I sometimes feel the loss. Of course I must provide an heir at some point, but I flatter myself that children would be a joy to me, even now.”

“It has been a very serious consideration, Devlin. To own the truth, it is the only cause of melancholy whenever I reflect on it. You understand what is due to your name, and you meet every eligible woman in Society. Eventually, it will happen for you and you will have that happiness.”

He was frustrated that the newness of their acquaintance denied him the liberty to investigate further, while actually feeling as if he had known her for years. He decided to try a different tack. “Suppose you fell in love with a man who would allow you the freedom you desire?”

“I can only say that the freedom you understand differs extremely from mine. But I can just as easily turn the question back on you. Would finding a woman who would not curb your independence change your mind? Would the hope of children to carry on your name override your aversion to marriage?”