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“It has been my experience, moonwitch, that the best way to insure not missing is to keep a cool head, especially if you’re in a tight spot. And perhaps I should advise you also that if you do allow yourself the luxury of losing your temper, you should really try to control the stutter you seem to develop when you do. To some people it might seem to point to a limited vocabulary, you know. That is, of course, if you worry about what other people might think of you! And there’s another thing—when you keep your lips parted the way they are now, I should warn you that most men, even if they are gentlemen, would be sorely tempted to kiss you and might even imagine that you are inviting them to do so, especially when your cheeks wear such an adorable flush of what might even be attributed, if a man was conceited enough, to excitement.”
“Ohhh!”
“I’m sorry…there was something you wanted to say, Miss Howard?”
“You are the most despicable, the most hateful… You’re…Oh, how I wish I knew the kind of words that would really describe what you are, you monster of depravity! If I had any kind of weapon I would kill you without a qualm!”
“I’m quite sure you would! But then, what would all these nice, decent people think of you? What kind of story could you make up for them without giving yourself away?” He seemed to have become amused by her venomous outburst of rage; just as if she had been a little spitting kitten he could tease and play with and manipulate by stringing her on with his mocking, deliberately inciting words.
Belatedly recognizing his tactics, Alexa forced herself to take a deep breath before she said in a calmer voice: “Very well. Since I have no pistol on me and you’re really not worth the scandal it would cause if I were to kill you, do you think you’re ready yet to come to the point and tell me why you have chosen to bait me? What is it you have in mind? If it’s blackmail, I don’t have any money of my own yet and no jewelry of anything but sentimental value; and that only to me.” And then, encouraged by his sudden silence into plucking up her courage, she said more strongly: “And in any case, no matter what nasty things you might choose to say about me I think, Señor de la Guerra, that people here would believe my word over yours; and especially since I will be able to prove, if I had to, that I have not…that I am still…”
How his voice could change! Now, as he interrupted her, it had become deceptively silken again. “Allow me please, Miss Howard, to save you the embarrassment of saying it aloud. You were struggling for exactly the proper words to make it clear that you’re still a virgin? How admirable! Saving your—er—virtue for the lucky man who legally weds you, and then…But never mind. I suppose I should pay tribute to your strength of character, as you deserve. I humbly beg your pardon, chaste Diana, for having doubted your purity even for a wicked instant! And as a token of my repentance, I have a gift to offer you. A little trinket that you might be pleased to get back without having other people know where you lost it or how it happened to fall into my possession.”
“I don’t know what you can be hinting at this time, and what is more, I no longer give a fig for any of your sly threats and insinuations!” Alexa retorted hotly. “And if you do not take me back to my aunt this instant…”
“Before I return your pretty gold bracelet to you? Or haven’t you missed it yet? I saw it gleaming on the bottom of the pool, speared by a stray moonbeam. That was after your dangerous-looking pistol had made me think better of continuing in my efforts to seduce you. And then, since I sometimes have an unfortunate tendency towards being rather sentimental, I decided to keep it as a souvenir of my encounter with a mermaid on a moonlit night. In fact, I have it with me now. But perhaps you don’t particularly care if you have it back or not?”
In a low, choked voice, Alexa barely managed to articulate, “You’re…you’re even lower than a…a snake…a viper! You’re vile! And completely without scruples or…or conscience, aren’t you? I wish…”
“Be careful of what you wish, or it might come true!” The false smile he gave her was slightly twisted. “I seem to have heard or read that somewhere, a long time ago. And I won’t remind you of another old saying about finders being keepers if you will continue to…why, what a light dancer you are, Miss Howard. Such a pleasure to lead! And do you not agree that it is much cooler out here where we can see the stars and watch the moon as it begins to sink? You can always scream for help if I make an improper move, you know. And will it make you feel even safer if I promise not to make any attack on your cherished virginity?”
She did not feel at all safe out here alone with him on the gallery, Alexa discovered. Not even when he released her and pointedly stationed himself at least a foot away from her with his back to one of the gleaming white columns that helped support the roof of the gallery. He was a barbarian, that’s what he was! Donning the outward guise of being civilized like a leopardskin cloak that could be thrown aside or worn again to suit his own ends.
“I don’t…” Her breathing quickened by anger and frustration, Alexa had to make an effort to steady her voice before she could continue scornfully, “I suppose you will only feel flattered if I am forced to admit that since I have unfortunately learned that I cannot trust in any gentlemanly instincts you might possess, I…No! I do not feel any safer in your company, Señor de la Guerra, than I would if I should have found myself locked into a cage with a tiger! But at least with animals you know where they are—they are either hungry or they are not; whereas you have done your best to try and frighten me all evening long with your hints and your veiled threats, haven’t you? But why? And to what end? You have practically forced me out here in order to reclaim a little gold bracelet of no great value that was my mother’s before she gave it to me, and means much more to her than it ever could to me. Why? You must surely have realized by now that I am no match for you with your clever, sarcastic speeches that are meant to leave a sting and the way you have of manipulating people and circumstances to suit yourself. You must have known that all along! I cannot understand either you, or the motives for your calculated cruelty, or…”
Alexa had turned her face away to stare blindly out into the night while she delivered her furious little speech; and now suddenly she was utterly surprised when she felt him reach over to run one long finger lightly over her averted cheek.
“Poor, frightened little virgin! You don’t really understand anything about life yet, do you? You’re a product of your upbringing and your environment, I suppose, for all that you’re daring enough to take a few risks now and then. What do you do about those certain emotions that run far deeper than the surface ones you’re supposed to display? Have you ever wondered, poor little lost mermaid, about what you might really want or need; quite apart from what you have been told you should want? Did you imagine that you had committed some mortal sin merely because you enjoyed the way I touched your body and made you feel as if you wanted to experience even more? Is that the only reason why you hate and fear me so much now—because I gave you the yearning for forbidden fruit? Damn you, sea witch! Will you look at me? For God’s sake! Do you really, in your most secret heart, believe that what happened by chance between us—two strangers meeting naked on a moon-enchanted night—was not natural and normal, but something bad and sinful? Christ! Must the naked truth be constantly cloaked by evasions and euphemisms in order to satisfy the hypocrisy of others?”
Even while he exploded at her and goaded her, Nicholas could not help wondering, with some detached part of his mind, why he should take the trouble to do so. Whether she was actually a virgin or not, it was clear that she was inexperienced at least—and, as she had pointed out, no match for his cunningly thrown barbs. Damnation! She was barely eighteen!
But last night she had seemed ageless. Aphrodite rising from the sea. Mermaid…moon goddess…sea nymph. Temptress-witch. Last night. He was the one who should have known better than to expect whatever the hell it was he had expected when he had recognized her tonight.
Nicholas had been almost ready to back away from her when Alexa suddenly whirled her body around to face him as he had demanded earlier—for all the world like an animal at bay. Her storm-dark eyes were pinpointed by tiny red flames, reflecting the light of the crimson-shaded lantern that had been placed in the center of one of the tables. She reminded him, in that moment, of a cornered vixen—all eyes, claws and teeth; and in fact the angry vibrations that he could almost feel emanating from her tense body were all animal. A vixen all right! The impression was heightened by the somewhat pointed, high-cheekboned face and the way her thick hair sprang back from her temples, escaping winsomely at the same time in tiny, curling tendrils that clung to her forehead and her cheeks.
“How can you possibly preach to me about honesty and truth and what is natural when you are such a hypocrite yourself? I think you have learned only too well to use certain words and catchphrases in order to achieve your ends, and to twist things about until…Well, I don’t care what you say any longer, or how you taunt me, because I…Oh! I may be naive and silly and all of the other things you’ve implied, but at least you have opened my eyes to…Why, you are nothing but a disgusting lecher!”
“I must admit that lecher, especially delivered in that particular tone, sounds positively cutting! In case you should be prompted to use the word again, that is. But on the other hand, if you should really want to sound insulting, you might try ‘bastard,’ or even…”
“I would really prefer not to hear any more!” Alexa interrupted acidly while she tried valiantly to hold on to her treacherous temper. “In fact, you surely must be quite aware that the only reason I am still in your company is because…Well, I don’t care! If you do not have the decency to return my mother’s bracelet to me, then I have no choice but to consider it stolen and you the thief. And moreover, if you will not immediately escort me back inside I am quite capable of finding my own way! By now my aunt…”
His sudden laugh was unpleasant and made Alexa start nervously before she could prevent herself from doing so. “Dios! Why should I give a damn, after all, about what you seem to be and what you turn out to be? As you have reminded me, Miss Howard, I am old enough to know better than to believe in illusions. Mermaids and sea nymphs are only myths, after all, and the magical, ethereal qualities they are said to possess merely a product of man’s wishful imagination. Surrendering one’s rational mind to the spell of the moon is as foolish as believing in chaste young goddesses who come to give themselves up to the moon and are surprised by vile man with all his base instincts!”
“I don’t…Please!” Alexa did not realize that she had whispered that last word almost pleadingly until she heard herself.
“Of course. My apologies. You want your mother’s bracelet back since it has such sentimental value. Don’t worry, you shall have it back as soon as I…Ah, here it is.”
Most of the candles that had made the gaily colored lanterns glow had guttered out by now; but as if to compensate there was the yellow-gold light of the setting moon slanting dimly across the gallery from the west as it seemed to search out a hiding place in the moving, restless sea.
Hiding? Was that really what she was doing? Hiding from whatever was her real self? And who was her real self? She would find out for herself some day. In any case, it certainly wasn’t any of his business!
Stiffly, Alexa forced herself to say: “Thank you. And I suppose it was rather rude of me not to say before how grateful I am that you…” Behind her awkwardly stammered words a picture flashed through her mind of the shape of a body cutting through black water to rise suddenly and after almost too long, to break through a moon-silvered surface. An arm—uplifted for a moment in a mocking salute. He must have been holding her bracelet then!
“Your fingers feel as cold as ice, Miss Howard!” The rough impatience in his voice stiffened her spine, even as he added, “Here, let me fasten the clasp for you. I suppose you’re used to having your maid perform such tasks, although you might remind her the next time to be more careful…”
With her precious bracelet fastened safely about her wrist once again, sheer relief if nothing else made Alexa say snappishly: “I do not have a maid who waits on me hand and foot, and I am not so helpless as to expect someone else to clasp a bracelet about my wrist! And besides, I do not possess many pieces of jewelry either!”
“No? But what a pity! Although I’m quite sure that you soon will have if you follow all the rules and catch yourself a wealthy husband who will be able to provide you with every luxury you might desire.”
“Catch? What a denigrating word! And why, pray, do you imagine that I should need to catch myself a husband? I am sure that if it comes to that there will be more than enough men who would want to catch me for me to choose from when the time comes!”
“Ah! A flash of honesty at last!” Alexa could almost sense the lift of one patronizing black brow. “But it’s very wise of you, moon maid, to let them do the chasing, without committing yourself too soon. It puts the price up as well, although I don’t mean to sound crude.”
“But of course you did. And far from being in the least honest yourself you’re a hypocrite, which is even worse. And…” Alexa’s unruly tongue ran away with her as her volatile temper passed boiling point, and she almost spat out the ultimate insult that he had taught her. “You’re…Why, you bastard!”
“You certainly pick things up quickly, I see,” he drawled aggravatingly. “And don’t think you’d get away with going for me with those sharp little claws of yours, because I can move faster than you can and as you’ve already surmised I’m not your usual polite gentleman—I don’t possess too many scruples either.”
“You’ve certainly made that much quite obvious, haven’t you?” Breathing deeply, Alexa made an attempt at icy coldness, although her voice still shook slightly. “And you’re a cruel man as well. I think you enjoy fixing others on the sharp pins of your ridicule and your sarcasm, just to watch them squirm. Well, if I’ve provided you with enough sport for one evening I should like to be escorted back to my aunt, if you please. I am not enjoying myself—or your company either.”
“No? But then, since I am a bastard, why should I let that make any difference to me?” Suddenly, the mockery in his voice deepened to harshness as he added, “And that, little virgin bitch-goddess, is why I intend to claim my forfeit for returning that precious bracelet of yours before I return you to your tía dueña!”
Without warning he had grasped her roughly by the shoulders; his fingers pressing into her flesh as he bent her backward against the railing; and during those first few instants Alexa thought fearfully that he meant to break her in two. And then his lips descended over hers with all the fierceness of an eagle swooping on its prey, cutting off her breath along with her reason, so that for some moments she actually thought that he meant to kill her as Othello had killed Desdemona—with a punishing kiss.
Was it only terror that held her still after her first, shamefully brief attempt to tear herself free? Alexa felt her head fall helplessly back against his arm as he forced her lips apart to explore her mouth, and almost instinctively she raised her arms, meaning to beat against him with her fists before it—the same strange thing that had happened to her before—seemed to take hold of her. That frightening, helpless feeling as if all her bones were melting and running together, so that she could hardly stand and needed to hold on to him for support. Heat—suddenly flooding through her to make her face, her breasts, her whole body burn and tingle as if she had a fever that had rendered her mindless and incapable of resisting either him or her own worse instincts. She felt the rippling movement of the muscles in his back, even under the jacket he wore, and remembered without shame how he had looked naked—the feel of his flesh under her hands. And now her fingers touched his hair, wanting on their own to memorize its texture; and if she didn’t know what she was doing or why, she wasn’t sane enough to care at that moment. Not even when he brushed his fingers gently and teasingly down from her temple and along the arch of her neck—and even further down to touch her breasts, seeming to burn through the stuff of her gown and knowing exactly where to linger.
Why was she encumbered by so many layers of clothing anyhow? Alexa realized suddenly, or rather her body did, that she wanted the feel of his fingers against her skin, touching her everywhere, not stopping. No thinking to cloud this surge of pure, primitive feeling. She felt like a pitch-soaked torch, suddenly ignited and flaring into brilliant life; and yet at the same time she had no real understanding of why she felt so, or what it meant, or even of where such feelings might lead her. She had not even asked herself why she had so recklessly allowed herself to be carried beyond caution and carefully set boundaries as her body arched eagerly and almost fiercely against his and the sea-murmuring in her ears was the sound of their breathing, his and hers, as he held her and took her even more closely against himself until Alexa could almost feel that she was melting into him. Melting—dissolving…
It was Nicholas, in the end, who broke away; firmly disengaging her clinging arms from about his neck while he cursed himself for having allowed himself to be goaded into yielding to a wildly irrational impulse. Christ! He, at least, was certainly old enough to have known better and to have thought of the possible consequences. What if someone else had decided to come out here for a breath of the cool night air and had seen them? Unfairly enough, it would have been her reputation that would have been ruined, and he had neither reason nor any right to do that to her, after all.
She was staring up at him in a dazed fashion, her eyes wide and uncomprehending, her mouth…But he had better not start thinking along those lines again, Nicholas warned himself grimly. She was passionate, and obviously manready, as he had already gauged; and he could not prevent himself from almost regretting that he could not be the one who would take her for the first time, making her like it. But she’d probably end up marrying some clumsy oaf who wouldn’t take the time or the trouble to discover what a prize he had; and in the end she’d turn cold and hard, substituting expensive trinkets, which could be shown off, for feeling and emotion. For all that she seemed to be possessed of a daring and adventurous spirit now, there was no doubt that in the end she would be made to conform and would turn out exactly like all the other young women of her class and background.
Poor, pretty, ingenuous Alexa! A mixture of both pity and regret made his voice unusually gentle as he touched her face and was not able to resist lightly tracing the contour of her soft lips with one finger.
“Dammit, I suppose I should tell you how sorry I am for having allowed myself to get carried away; but that would be hypocritical, for I thoroughly enjoyed kissing you and I would have liked even better to have been able to make love to you, little moon maid. But I suppose that would have created quite a scandal, and I’m not as completely devoid of scruples as you accused me of being.”
“Stop it! Stop talking down to me as if I’m a child, even after you…Yes, you are a hypocrite of the worst kind, Señor de la Guerra, and I wish…I wish…No, don’t!” Alexa’s shaking voice suddenly became fierce, warning him to silence. “There is really no need for you to explain, or to say anything more. I think you proved whatever it was you meant to prove quite well, didn’t you? And I suppose I should be grateful to you for being so instructive in showing me the dangers of giving way to weakness. I shall certainly be much more careful and less trusting in future, I assure you! And now do you mind if we went back inside before my aunt begins to worry?”
9
Nicholas de la Guerra was a base, despicable libertine of the worst kind and had almost succeeded in spoiling for her the whole exciting occasion of her eighteenth birthday ball. Thank goodness he had decided to make himself scarce following the scathing setdown she had given him after he had dared to force himself on her, Alexa thought. She would dearly have loved to have said even more—to have told him in the most cutting tones exactly how much she disliked and despised him and how much the very memory of his insolent boldness in taking advantage of her embarrassment and fear of scandal disgusted her. But of course he was hardly worth thinking of, and since it was fortunately not likely that she would ever set eyes on him again she must really learn to put him firmly out of her mind like any other unpleasant or irksome thought that only served to disturb her. Some things were best left in the past where they belonged, and she should remember only that what was done could not be undone—although she had certainly learned a lesson that should serve her well in the future.
Her color high, Alexa tried to force herself into concentrating only on studying herself critically in the mirror. Her new riding habit, just made up for her, was a dark forest green. Not a color she particularly cared for, but Uncle John, who had helped her pick out the material and style, had told her emphatically that it was flattering to her and set off her hair to perfection. And after all, it was Uncle John who had paid for it, the darling. Turning around to view herself from every angle, Alexa thought that the tailor had done very well considering the short notice he’d been given. Of course he’d been paid double his normal charge, but that was still less than a tenth of what one would have had to pay one of the fashionable modistes in London or Paris.
Am I becoming as worldly and blasé as Aunt Harriet feared I might? Alexa wondered as she tried to perfect a bored expression before she started to smile irrepressibly at her own silliness. But she had promised her aunt that she would not let herself become too spoiled during her stay in Colombo with her indulgent Uncle John; and in fact she had even promised recklessly that she would at all times be unfailingly polite and respectful to the ferret-faced Mrs. Langford, who for her part couldn’t quite manage to disguise the fact that she disliked Alexa and would dearly love to find as many faults and flaws in her as she could to relate to her cronies. As if that promise wasn’t hard enough to keep, she had even had to give her word that she would try very hard to make friends with that silly ninny Charlotte Langford and would include the girl in as many excursions as possible; even when she was invited to go riding with Lord Charles. Hemmed about…! Alexa began to scowl at her reflection that scowled back. That was how she had begun to feel, surrounded by Langfords! And it was all the fault of that certain vile, inconsiderate wretch who had kept her out on the gallery with him for far too long a time, and against her wishes too. Otherwise she need never have been forced into making so many promises to Aunt Harriet, who would otherwise have continued to insist that since Alexa had proved how irresponsible she was and how easily she let herself forget everything she had been taught about decorum and what was proper and what wasn’t, they would both return home the very next day.
“But all we did was talk! About California and what life is like there!”
“Huh! I know very well that that was the excuse he offered—with that twist of his lips that’s supposed to pass for a smile and that irritatingly sardonic look on his face that seemed almost to challenge me to make an obvious fuss. But I’ll have you understand, miss, that I don’t accept excuses, as you should know very well. And even though I might have found this Señor de la Guerra quite an interesting conversationalist, you might recall that we conversed here, in public, and not alone with the night and the stars.” Harriet had snorted again before adding: “And you can spare me that look of injured innocence too, my girl, for I’ve known you too long for you to fool me. I was young and foolish myself once, believe it or not! The man’s far too old for you in any case, and far too…Well, never mind. I am sure you know exactly what I am driving at.”
Stubbornly, Alexa had managed to keep to her story, staring angrily down at her clenched hands while she wished she could let her temper explode along with the resentment and positive hatred she felt towards Nicholas de la Guerra, who was the cause of her aunt’s wrath. It really wasn’t fair or just that she should be the only one to shoulder all the blame, and to be punished by being marched upstairs to bed by her aunt after being allowed only two more dances (“only in order to squelch any gossip!” she had been reminded), just as if she had still been a child.
In the end it had been Sir John who had persuaded Harriet to relent. Alexa never learned just how he had managed to convince her aunt that she deserved another chance (just as if she had been a criminal, she fumed inwardly), but at least she had been allowed to stay behind in Colombo—after all sorts of solemn promises had been extracted from her first. Not fair, when it hadn’t been her fault at all; and in any case, why was it that her every action and her life should be controlled by a nebulous “they” who had made up all the rules that were supposed to govern what everybody could or could not do? And what made “them” qualified to decide what constituted “sin”? It wasn’t considered a sin if an angry planter beat one of his coolies to death for what he thought of as insolence; but to lie naked with a man or to allow him to kiss you or touch you in certain ways was the unforgivable sin! Hypocrisy. That was one of the things that he had spoken of, of course; but obviously it had been only in order to gain his own ends, Alexa thought darkly. Part of the insidious poison he had tried to feed her—as dangerous as the sudden rush of unwanted memory-pictures flashing through her mind.
Annoyed at the wayward direction her thoughts had begun to take, Alexa scowled at her reflection in the mirror and snatched up her hat, adjusting it at a jaunty angle on her head so that the feather that adorned it curled enticingly about the brim before it swooped down to almost brush her cheek. She could only hope, of course, that Lord Charles, who was doubtless used to moving in much more sophisticated circles than this, would not find her too unstylish; and if he did not it was again due to her dearest and most understanding Uncle John, who had, like a benevolent magician or fairy godfather, arranged for both the new riding habit and the hat as well.
“Oh, Alexa!” Alexa swung around angrily with her straight dark brows drawn together; but Charlotte Langford never seemed to realize that she was intruding when she burst unannounced into Alexa’s room without so much as a perfunctory knock. “He’s here! The Viscount Deering, I mean. And on such a magnificent horse, too! Don’t you think it so exciting that it is us he has chosen to honor with his attention? How envious every other female in Colombo will be, to be sure!”
“Oh? Do you think so?” Alexa managed to respond coolly enough as she turned back to the mirror to make sure her hat was pinned securely on her coiled up hair, stepping back to study the effect of her whole outfit taken together.
“Oh, but of course we will be envied and thought lucky. I suppose, living upcountry you could have no idea how people gossip in a city like Colombo. A Viscount—asking us to go riding with him in public, just as if we had a Rotten Row here in Colombo! And especially after all the marked attention we’ve been paid during the past few days—his calls…”
How was it that Charlotte always sounded so breathless while she rained spun-sugar inanities on her unfortunate victims? On the verge of gritting her teeth Alexa surprised herself by managing to say in quite a civilized voice, “And I suppose that since Lord Charles has been so kind and attentive it is the least we can do not to keep him waiting, don’t you think?”
From Charlotte’s giggles and pink cheeks it might seem as if it were really Charlotte Langford that Lord Charles had called upon almost daily and not Miss Howard. There had, as a matter of fact, not been a single minute when Alexa had been left alone with the Viscount, for Charlotte’s redoubtable mama had always made sure that Charlotte sat with them in the parlor or out on the verandah; ensuring that all their conversation remained stilted and formal. And it had been difficult indeed to carry on any kind of intelligent conversation at all when Miss Langford, who lacked both tact and sensitivity, might interrupt during any slight pause to comment on the continuing good weather or the bazaar her mama had recently organized to raise money for Christian orphans. There had been moments when Alexa’s unruly tongue and temper had almost burst out of control, and she found herself grinding her teeth together much more often than usual. But at least she had earned herself the right to enjoy this particular outing, which she’d looked forward to almost greedily for the past few days.
As she leaned down to pat the arched neck of her horse, Alexa realized how much she’d missed her daily rides on horseback. Her favorite out of all the horses in Sir John’s stable, the high-spirited chestnut mare she rode had been foaled at his horse farm in the hill country, where Alexa had already ridden her several times before. Although, she could not help thinking almost painfully now, it had been so different there! Cold, dew-pearled mornings with the smell of woodsmoke in the air and the excited yelping of hounds waiting to be let out for their morning run. She could ride comfortably astride, and without a hat; her carelessly finger-combed mane of hair tied back with a ribbon and the weight of a pistol at her side to remind her of the dangers she might encounter at any time. A poisonous snake, an enraged wild boar…
But not here, in Colombo, on such a very decorous outing as this one had turned out to be, Alexa thought with mounting indignation as she listened to Charlotte Langford’s high-pitched voice chatter on and on between giggles and pronounced sighs and could not help wishing that she had brought a pistol with her after all. Not only had Charlotte been inflicted upon her but two other men of Mrs. Langford’s choosing as well—a middle-aged and terribly boring major who was a friend of Colonel Langford’s and Mr. Sutherland, the pompous young man who had bored her with his solemn relation of all the duties of an aide to the Governor and the importance of such a position. The two native grooms trailing behind their party made them seem an entourage, and it had not been meant to be like this! Lord Charles had asked her to ride with him, without making mention of anyone else, and his surprise had showed in his eyes for an instant or two before he had masked it with his usual polite manners.
Manners! Alexa thought rebelliously as she toyed with the wicked idea of pretending her mount was running away with her, just in order to enjoy a real gallop instead of being forced to conform to a sedate trot for Charlotte Langford’s sake. Why is it considered good manners to be sickly sweet to a person you really despise and dislike? Why are people never supposed to be completely honest and truthful with each other? Stripping away dishonesty and lies like so many unnecessary layers of clothing and being able to face together the naked reality of truth? I shall never understand—and least of all why I must let myself conform and pretend and be all those things that I despise the most. It was not fair that now, too suddenly, she was expected to make her real self disappear behind a decorous social mask. To act instead of reacting. Not fair!
It was perhaps fortunate, considering the angrily mutinous trend of Alexa’s thoughts, that Lord Charles’s voice broke in just then.
“I say, Miss Howard, I’ve just hit on a capital idea, you know. That is, if you don’t mind…” Viscount Deering’s rather diffident voice was belied by the almost conspiratorial smile he wore, as Alexa discovered when she glanced at him in an almost startled fashion. She had almost forgotten, in her preoccupation with her resentful thoughts, that he had quite cleverly contrived to be the one to ride beside her when the riding path had become narrower. Until now, barraged by the bright flow of small talk kept up by the others in their party, both Alexa and Lord Charles had remained comparatively silent; and she had almost begun to imagine that he had begun to think of her as being far too provincial and naive to be worth his time and attention. Now, however, his next words belied that fear as he continued with a twinkle in his expressive brown eyes: “D’you think perhaps that this might be a suitable opportunity to practice our French and Italian on each other? I seem to remember your mentioning that you did not have many opportunities to converse in those languages in order to keep fluent, and since I too have the same problem I thought…Do you mind?”
Charlotte had admitted only two days ago, with a sniff, that her mama had assured her that English was spoken everywhere in Europe by the better class of people and that it was quite unnecessary to try to learn some foreign language that might well contain certain words and phrases that were not considered polite in English. So much for Charlotte! And it was even more unlikely that Major Doyle or Mr. Sutherland knew either French or Italian. Lord Charles was being cleverly inventive, and an appreciative sparkle lit up Alexa’s eyes, relieving some of the tension that had shown in her face as she had contemplated the hypocrisy of “good manners.”
“Mind? No! I should enjoy trying out my French and Italian very much indeed, if you will only promise to correct all of my mistakes.”
What a difference it made when she smiled and let that charming dimple show, Lord Charles reflected in a rather fatuous fashion. She was really quite adorable, with a touch of naiveté he found quite unusual and intriguing. If only he could have had enough time to spend with her, and without the constant and vigilant chaperones she was always surrounded by…! He had done nothing but dream of her for the past few nights, and had imagined, when he was not asleep and dreaming, everything he would like to share with her and do with her. Teach her everything. Arouse her virginal senses and take her, step by step, to the knowledge of passion and sensuality. Dammit, she seemed to offer both a promise and a challenge that were almost worth staying for, if only his dark-visaged “cousin” Nicholas would not continue to be so obdurate about leaving in two days from now and did not insist on reminding him that his parents expected him back in England before Christmas. Two days, and he had begun to want her quite badly. Not that Nicholas, being the cynic that he was about women, would give a damn about that, of course! He respected nothing at all—not even the purity of true innocence—and talked contemptuously of normal human emotions and feelings as if they were merely weaknesses that should be controlled and pushed out of existence. Well, the devil take Nicholas and the coldly detached calculation he preached. He, for his part, preferred to enjoy the hedonism of giving way to feeling and impulse!
Yes, why not act on impulse after all? Especially since it was obvious by now that he had not much to lose except perhaps a few hours spent too well chaperoned in her company. Manfully, Lord Charles plunged into speech, hoping he would not have to regret his impulsiveness later, although, of course there were always ways out, weren’t there? He had decided on French to begin with and then switched quickly into Italian when he remembered uneasily that French had become almost too fashionable these days.
“I hope my little ruse did not anger you too much? But if you could only know how much I have wanted to engage in a real conversation with you and to spend much more time in your company without… That is…All that I meant, of course, was that, well, I had very much looked forward to getting to know and understand you much better before…Believe me, I am not usually as tongue-tied as some adolescent schoolboy, Signorina Howard! And—with your permission of course—not quite as boldly precipitous. Please. If I were to beg your indulgence and your forgiveness, could you possibly grant me such a favor?”
And what could Lord Charles possibly be leading up to with such difficulty, for heaven’s sake? With a show of insouciance Alexa answered brightly that of course he had her permission to be quite frank with her, because she infinitely preferred honesty and directness to the polite insincerity that most people practiced. She could only wonder why he felt he had to ask her forgiveness first, as she questioned, “Is whatever it is you want to tell me so terribly bad?”
“For me at least it is. And especially since I have met you. To learn that we are to leave for England within two days, when I have not even had the opportunity to speak with you and meet with you as often as I would have wished…I am afraid that I’m not the kind of cynic my cousin the Spaniard would have me become, and that I cannot help the way I have begun to feel towards you. I admire you and respect you and I wish…Ah, at least perhaps you will believe me when I say I am sincere in my feelings, bella, cara signorina! and that I would give anything to be granted just a few precious moments of private conversation with you so that I could speak to you more freely and with less constraint. To know that you would trust me enough to feel safe and at ease in my company if you should ever…I hope I have not made you angry with me?”
It was perhaps unfortunate that Charlotte, who must have been listening to their exchange with a growing sense of frustration, should have chosen that particular moment to chime in archly from behind, protesting that they really weren’t being fair at all in excluding the rest of the party from sharing secrets. And then, with one of her high-pitched giggles that always set Alexa’s teeth on edge, Charlotte had to add coyly: “Of course Mama has always said that one should try to remember a few commonly used French words that have been absorbed into the English language; but…” with another rather embarrassed sounding giggle this time, “I understand that…Well, at least Mama has always given me to understand that certain reading matter that would never find its way into decent English…Mr. Sutherland has just been telling me that he agrees with Mama that certain books that are published abroad in other languages might be far too easily available, under the guise of literature, of all things, and could corrupt Innocent and Unspoiled Minds. Not that I meant…”
“Oh, but I’m sure I can quite understand Mrs. Langford’s natural anxiety, and she’s right, of course.” Even if she gnashed her teeth mentally, Alexa’s tone was dulcet. “After all, I’m sure that a mother is always the best judge of her own daughter’s susceptibility to certain reading matter! And you mustn’t worry, Charlotte dear, that I will ever tell Mrs. Langford that you have actually discussed such topics with a gentleman. In fact, I shall continue practicing Italian grammar and diction with Lord Charles and pretend that no discussion of improper literature ever took place!”
Charlotte’s only half-smothered gasp and the rather choked sound that Lord Charles quickly turned into a cough came at about the same time, Alexa remembered later. At least he had a sense of humor, she thought, and he was, at the same time, a gentleman. So very much the complete opposite, thank goodness, of his uncouth cousin from California, that panther-eyed adventurer who possessed neither manners nor morals nor scruples either and certainly did not deserve to be received by polite society. Lord Charles, on the other hand, was entertaining, polite and obviously sincere; and what, after all, could be so very wrong with meeting and conversing with him alone for a few minutes? He, at least, was not the kind of bold rogue who might, without warning, force her into an unwanted embrace that was as much a punishment as it was an insult, his hands taking casual liberties with her, just as if she had been some coolie woman who was supposed to feel flattered by his disgusting advances!
In any case, I trust Lord Charles, and it does rather sound like a daring adventure as well as a challenge, Alexa thought defiantly afterwards when she recalled her rash promise to meet him on the private strip of sandy beach at the bottom of Sir John’s garden. He was going away, and he wanted to talk with her—had given her his solemn word that she would be perfectly safe in his company. As of course she would be, for he was far too honorable to try and take advantage of her trust in him. And what fun it had been to progress from arguments to arrangements right under the stolid noses of the others; particularly Charlotte’s, which had been pink with indignation during the rest of their ride. She didn’t really care a jot what Charlotte or Mrs. Langford thought or speculated about either, Alexa decided firmly. She would pretend to have developed a headache and retire early tonight, and then…Lord Charles had said that he had something very important to ask her. Was he thinking of proposing to her? And suppose he actually did, how should she answer him? It was all very exciting, and helped to push other, less pleasant thoughts from her mind.
10
That night, at dinner, Mrs. Langford seized on some flimsy excuse to hold forth at great length on the subject of the correct and proper training of pure, and yet far too impressionable, young minds. She had a rather high-pitched voice that grated on Alexa’s nerves, and a consciously affected turn of phrase as well; being overly fond of throwing in quotations at random from either the Bible or one of her favorite sermons to illustrate her every point, or pointed comment.
“…The unrestricted reading for books, for instance, and especially novels…!” Here the lady’s rather thin lips had puckered, as if she had just tasted something unbearably sour, before she continued in rather heavier tones that were meant to convey the extent of her disapprobation: “And especially the kind written by foreigners, in their languages…ah, how important some gentle but firm guidance in the right direction is, in order to prevent the corruption of a young mind that, as our dear and learned Dr. Jennings has often said, resembles a clean slate waiting to be written upon and is open, in its innocence, to every influence. Parental supervision—constant advice and guidance—how important they are, and most especially in the case of a young female, delicately nurtured and of a tender susceptibility! ‘As the twig is bent…’ I know I need not complete the phrase, for my Charlotte has heard her father quote it many times. Colonel Langford also believes very strongly in the importance of disciplining as well as instructing the young, immature mind; along with, of course, the social graces such as manners and proper deportment and behavior—so essential for a young woman who dreams of being the perfect wife and mother when the time arrives for her to be passed from the benevolent guidance of her loving parents into the keeping of—her Husband!”
If she continues in this vein for much longer…If I have to listen to that voice and those smug platitudes and watch how Charlotte preens herself without realizing or even caring that she has been brought up and trained like a show pony or a brood mare; only in order to be passed from the hands of one owner to another…! I wonder what she would do if I suddenly gave way to a violent fit of hysterics? A headache? But then Uncle John would start to worry and concern himself needlessly, and she would probably think…
Alexa forced herself to look down at her plate while she pretended to occupy herself with cutting into her slice of boiled mutton surrounded by carrots and potatoes. But in spite of all her efforts her mind seethed rebelliously. Slavery! That was what it amounted to. Passed, like a possession, from one man to another; and yet most young women thought like Charlotte, who would consider herself honored if some pompous jackass should consider to ask her father for her hand in marriage. And after that, instead of “Yes, Papa!” and “Of course, Papa!” it would be “Oh yes, Mr. So-and-so!” or “But of course, Mr. So-and-so, you always know what is best for me.” How could any human being with a mind capable of reasoning submit will as well as person so unquestioningly and so passively?
Thankfully, Mrs. Langford had interrupted herself in order to enjoy her third course, and the sudden quiet that seemed to descend encouraged Alexa to change the angry trend of her thoughts. In that direction lay frustration, she reminded herself wisely. And she had more immediate problems to deal with tonight. Planning—or should she be prepared to improvise instead? It was certain that she would have to wait until the servants had been dismissed to their quarters for the night and most of the house lights extinguished before attempting to slip away. And what should she wear? Something cool and light and not too encumbering nor too showy either. A gown she could feel comfortable in without appearing too dowdy or shabby. Her green cotton with the lace inserts, perhaps? It was at least two years old, of course, and the style had been copied from a fashion journal of the early ’thirties but at least it did flatter her figure as well as show off her shoulders and ankles to advantage. And being a man, Lord Charles probably would not notice in any case. Yes, the green dress would be exactly the thing—not that it really mattered of course, because she had no intention of staying out beyond half an hour at the very most, even if he did propose!
During the rest of the meal, Sir John, who had noticed and understood the dangerous gleam in Alexa’s slate-dark eyes, made sure that their conversation was steered into safer channels, leaving Mrs. Langford and Charlotte no choice but to follow his lead. Alexa’s mood lightened noticeably and her whole manner became quite animated when the discussion turned to horses and a lively argument ensued regarding the merits and shortcomings of crossbreeding.
The entrance of Sir John’s dignified-looking butler, carrying a silver tray bearing decanters of port and brandy and a beautifully carved rosewood box containing a variety of the very finest cigars, filled Mrs. Langford, for one, with a feeling of profound relief. She had noticed that her poor Charlotte, like herself, had barely toyed with the last two courses, and had not even had a second helping of the chocolate soufflé. But now, at last, she could with all propriety give the signal for the ladies to retire—and high time too! There had been moments, she thought with an inward shudder of taste, when she knew that she could not prevent herself from blushing at what she could only dare describe, even to herself, as “stable talk.”
How she had longed to be able to cry out that Charlotte should instantly clap her hands over her ears when certain unpleasant subjects were being discussed far too freely! She could only hope and pray of course that dear Charlotte’s carefully nurtured innocence would protect her; and it was with considerable relief that she had noticed Charlotte’s rather puzzled expression when there were subjects mentioned and blunt terms used that no well-brought-up young lady should have any knowledge of. And that any young woman of good background should actually sit and discuss with such ease and familiarity such unsuitable topics not only reflected badly on her unfortunate parents but was enough to make any other person forced to listen and observe such behavior positively recoil! The blame did not lie with Sir John Travers, who had been a bachelor all his life and was more used to male company, poor man. No, it was the responsibility of a female, if she was indeed a lady, to make haste to change the subject to a more tasteful one. It certainly did not speak well for the education of women if this was its result. Foreign languages, the reading of novels, far too much freedom of both action and thought—all insidious poisons that twisted and corrupted. No wonder poor Charlotte had been almost distraught when they had returned from their excursion on horseback; so torn, the dear soft-hearted creature, between loyalty to another of her own sex and the high moral standards she had been taught.
“I vow I do not mean to sound uncharitable, Mama, but I have to confess that I could not help longing for the time when we would turn back, in spite of the fact that Mr. Sutherland was so kind to me and showed himself to be so understanding of how I had to feel, and was made to feel. Mama, you know how hard I have tried to make a friend of Miss Howard and to guide her, as you told me I should. But today, why she was flirting quite boldly with Lord Charles, and monopolizing him! Even Mr. Sutherland admitted to me that he could not help being disappointed and rather surprised at her behavior. And then, to make things worse, they began speaking in…Oh, I don’t even know what it was. Some foreign language that sounded like gibberish that none of us could understand; and when I only tried to hint, tactfully, that it was rather rude, she actually snubbed me, Mama! And turned back to him, laughing! And you should have seen the looks they kept exchanging all the while. I have never been so embarrassed in all my life, and my head aches so badly from the strain of it all that I can hardly bear to lift it!”
At least she could be thankful that Charlotte, poor disillusioned child, had seen for herself the consequences of too much freedom, Mrs. Langford reflected grimly. But even if she put her natural maternal feelings aside, there still remained her Christian Duty towards the young and unfortunately misguided female who had, after all, been placed in her care. Yes, a few words of wisdom and of caution could not be amiss.
Following her mother’s example, Charlotte had already risen to her feet with alacrity, but Alexa, on the other hand, tried hard to pretend she hadn’t noticed. How on earth, and why, had such a silly custom become established? She didn’t in the least mind the aroma of a good cigar, and she would much rather have continued her interesting conversation with Uncle John instead of being forced to retire with the Langfords.
“Miss Howard? Will you not deign to join us?”
Alexa had begun to rise, slowly and unwillingly, when Mrs. Langford’s rather sarcastic reminder of her manners made her angry enough to sit down again and defy both custom and silly women. But in the end, after only an infinitesimal hesitation, her head went up defiantly while her eyes took on a pewter sheen that would have warned anyone who knew Alexa to caution. Even her face seemed to have changed in some subtle way, appearing suddenly older and harder, while her voice seemed to have crystalized into dry ice.
“I do beg your pardon for being a few seconds tardy in joining you, madame. Thank you for the tactful reminder.”
So his young Amazon was primed to give battle? Sir John Travers spent a few extra seconds staring thoughtfully at the double doors of polished satinwood bound with brass that had just closed behind the ladies. He was sure that Alexa, with her clever mind and gift for ingenious argument, could hold her own against Mrs. Langford quite easily, if only she could manage not to lose her temper to the extent that she also lost all power of reasoning.
Sir John sighed rather heavily as he turned back to his brandy and cigar, thinking ruefully as he did that it was a pity indeed that the young had everything except experience and the wisdom and ability to exercise self-control, whereas those like himself who had learned life’s hard lessons no longer had youth or time enough to use the knowledge they had gained. Youth and knowledge and wisdom. Ah, to possess all three gifts at the same time was to rule the world, and perhaps that was why it so seldom happened that way.
Alexa. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth under his greying mustache as he remembered the leggy colt of a girl she had been when he first encountered her. Even then she had had spirit, an eager, questioning mind, and courage as well. She, and not poor delicate Freddy, should have been the boy, of course; but what was the use in regretting what was? Alexa was no longer a girl but a grown young woman—an attractive young woman too, with a kind of aura about her that made her somehow unique, although she herself was as yet quite unaware of this special quality in herself that would always cause her to be noticed and singled out wherever she went. She was still quite immature, for all of her book-knowledge and education and that quick mind of hers. But there was so much potential there! Potential he had helped to nurture and had hoped to see realized some day if only…Well, what was the point in thinking about it now? His doctors had decreed otherwise, and mortal man cannot circumvent fate. So be it! At least he had been able to arrange that she’d always have enough money, so that she need never have to feel herself obligated to sell herself on the marriage market, even when Freddy inherited. Beyond that, his greatest hope was that when she was ready she would find the right kind of man for her—one she could converse with, who would appreciate her intelligent mind and free spirit and love her for what she was and not for what he thought he could make her into.
Sentimental old fool! You can only do the best you can and hope for the rest; and since you won’t be around to see how it turns out in the end, there’s no use worrying about it, is there? Clearing his throat fiercely, Sir John relit his cigar and dragged on it far too deeply, forgetting his doctor’s orders. Even though he had chosen an exceptionally mild one, it made him cough, and he swore inwardly. When he looked up at last after his coughing fit had ended, Sir John realized with disgust that his butler was hovering over him while pretending to rearrange everything on the silver tray in an ostentatiously significant manner that obviously called for comment.
“Well?” Sir John grumbled testily. “And what the devil d’you think you’re up to, fiddling about like that? If you’ve anything to say to me, be out with it!”
Velu, who had run his master’s house in Colombo for over fifteen years, merely turned down the corners of his mouth with a look of patent disapproval.
“I hear doctor say only half cigar, and much better Master take no cigar!” And then, noting indications of an imminent explosion, Velu went on hastily and with some relish, “But I come to tell Master that it is better, maybe, that Master retire to Study Room with door locked? Ladies make many arguments and the big lady is very angry. With mouth open like this…”
Velu’s imitation of Mrs. Langford actually left speechless for a change tempted Sir John to chuckle, and he was not able to compose his features quickly enough to prevent the sharp-eyed Velu from noticing his mouth twitch before he said drily: “I see. And I won’t ask you how many times you invented excuses to go in there, you old rascal, but I’m sure you didn’t miss anything, did you, eh? What of the young ladies?”
“Ah…” Velu rolled his eyes with pretended concern. “Big lady’s young missy crying and our missy Alex she smile but speaking sharp like knife. Good thing she have no knife or gun or maybe I think big lady be dead! Too bad!”
“I won’t ask how that last pithy statement was meant to be taken,” Sir John said after he had cleared his throat loudly to cover his involuntary chortle. He added thoughtfully, “But I suppose you are right in suggesting that I’d do well to take myself off to my study, where I have urgent correspondence to deal with and must on no account be disturbed.”
As Velu sprang to pull back his chair, Sir John reflected with a grim kind of amusement that this was certainly the first time anyone could have accused him of running away from a battlefield. But under the circumstances, and in view of his decided partiality, there could be no question that in this case at least discretion was most definitely the better part of valor.
