Gavin’s most pleasant surprise was a rangy man of middle years with a satiric gleam in the eyes. “I’m Markland,” he said with a faint American accent. “Welcome to the House of Lords—we need more radical colonials sitting there.”
Gavin shook the man’s hand. “How do you know that I’m a radical colonial?”
Markland chuckled. “My wife is twin sister to the wife of one of your father-in-law’s cronies. At the highest levels, London is as small a town as Boston. You may have heard of me there under my real name, Jason Travers.”
“Of course!” Gavin exclaimed. “You and I are in the same business. You’re something of a legend in Boston shipping circles—the Yankee Earl.”
“You may have that nickname with my blessing. I run my company from Liverpool and send my sons to Harvard College so they’ll be corrupted by radical American ideas.” Markland turned serious. “The reform movement is making progress here: Catholic Emancipation, ending the worst voting abuses, laws to keep children from being worked to death in factories. You’ll be with us on such issues, I think?”
“Of course. Who could not be?”
“You’d be surprised how many men can’t see past their own selfish noses. But step by step, democracy and compassion are making headway even here.”
Gavin smiled. “You’re actually making me look forward to the House of Lords. Perhaps I can contribute something useful there.”
“You can. You will. And if you ever feel the need to talk with another American who’s had his conflicts with the British establishment, feel free to call on me. You can curse about your dealings with the East India Company, and I’ll tell you about my time on the prison hulks in the Thames.” Moving on to Alex, Markland said, “And why haven’t you visited Kira and me yet, you wicked child?”
“Uncle Jason!” Alex went into the man’s arms for an enthusiastic hug. “How wonderful to see you. Where is Aunt Kira?”
“A bit under the weather so she stayed home, but she gave me strict orders to invite you to a ladies’ tea next week.”
Gavin smiled wryly at still more proof that Alex was connected to most of the nobility of Britain by blood or long family friendships. At least two former suitors came by and greeted her warmly before introducing their wives. It was all very friendly—anticipation had been worse than reality.
The receiving line was nearing its end when Gavin turned to the next guest, and found himself face-to-face with Sir Barton Pierce. Tall and broad, Pierce had flourished in London, putting on weight along with self-importance. Holding out his hand, he said unctuously, “A pleasure to meet you, Lord Seabourne. I’ve been wanting to speak with you….” Then he froze as he recognized who he was greeting.
Gavin shook the other man’s hand with exaggerated politeness. “Glad you made it tonight, Pierce. Or do you prefer to be called Sir Barton?”
“How the devil did you get to be the Earl of Seabourne?” Pierce sputtered, shock and anger in his pale eyes.
“The usual way—the previous earl, my grandfather, died.” Gavin was enjoying himself. “There was some doubt about my existence, but that’s all sorted out now.”
Recovering, Pierce said, “Now that you’re a lord, you shouldn’t be soiling your hands with trade. I’d be happy to buy Elliott House for a fair price.”
Gavin laughed. “It’s not for sale. There’s another Yankee earl who has kept his shipping business, and I see no reason why I can’t do the same.” He turned to the woman at the other man’s side. “Would this be Lady Pierce? I heard that you found yourself a beautiful wife in your travels, but rumor did her less than justice.”
In this, he was honest. Lady Pierce was a petite, exquisitely lovely blond with a face and figure of classical perfection. She extended her hand with a practiced smile. “You are too kind. I gather that you are the reason we were invited to Ashburton House? I’ve always wished to meet the duke and duchess.”
So she could fawn on them, no doubt. Under the lady’s angelic exterior, Gavin sensed the avidness of large appetites. She and Barton Pierce shared ambition and greed, and had made one of the most ancient of marriage bargains—beauty for wealth.
As Gavin bowed over her hand, Alex said coolly, “Frederica, what a surprise.”
Lady Pierce stiffened, as shocked as her husband had been when he identified Gavin. “Alexandra! A surprise indeed.”
The two women exchanged patently false smiles. Gavin remembered Alex mentioning a wasp-tongued beauty named Frederica, and this had to be the woman.
“We are old acquaintances from Sydney, but haven’t seen each other since Barton swept me off my feet and brought me back to England.” Frederica Pierce’s gaze slanted to Gavin. “How well you’ve done for yourself, my dear.” Her voice managed to imply that it was a miracle that any man had wanted to marry Alex.
“Frederica was the most acclaimed beauty in New South Wales,” Alex explained to Gavin. “There was mass mourning when she married and left Sydney. I’d forgotten the name of your new husband. Much has happened since then.”
Frederica Pierce’s expression changed. “So I had heard. One of Barton’s captains is recently arrived in London with the most remarkable tale. Were you really enslaved in the Indies and sold into the harem of a Borneo sultan for your weight in gold, my dear?”
Alex turned white. Gavin covered her shocked silence with a laugh. “Travelers’ tales are always so much more dramatic than the truth. Perhaps you should let that story stand since it’s so splendidly romantic.” He placed a possessive hand at the small of Alex’s back. “We’ve enjoyed meeting old friends again, but since our duties are done here, I’d like to claim a waltz with my wife. A pleasure to meet you, Lady Pierce.” He bowed before leading Alex away.
The music had already begun, so Gavin swung Alex into waltz position as soon as they reached the dance floor. “I thought it best to get you away before murder was done.”
Alex drew a shaky breath. “Of all the people in London to find out what happened to me! Frederica is a terrible woman. Though it’s true that men mourned when she married and left the colony, the women heaved vast sighs of relief. She’s the coldest, most selfish person I’ve ever known, and will cheerfully ruin me for spite.”
“Her husband has connections to the East, but they’re not very accurate. She doesn’t know what really happened, and she won’t.”
“What if someone from the crew of the Helena got drunk in a dockside tavern and told the whole story?” Alex’s face was starkly pale against her dark hair.
“Even if that happened, no one except Suryo and I know everything, and we aren’t talking.” His voice softened. “If the truth came out, would it matter? Frederica Pierce has no power to injure you. You have powerful, loyal friends and family—she is a spiteful nobody by comparison.”
“And since I can’t do anything about her, I might as well not worry.” Alex forced herself to relax. “Since women always hate her, I suppose they won’t take her tales seriously. Men tend to swallow everything she says, though.”
“Not all men—believe me, any male with good sense will keep his distance. She has the lethal charm of a black widow spider.” He grinned. “One must be glad that such perfect partners have found each other.”
Alex’s expression eased into a smile. “You have no need to administer further justice to Pierce. Frederica is punishment enough.”
Not true, but at least Gavin wouldn’t worry about harming innocent members of Pierce’s family. There was nothing innocent about the lovely Frederica.
Chapter 26
BY THE time they finished their waltz, Alex was in command of herself again, so they went their separate ways to mingle with other guests. Gavin was enjoying a country dance with his mother-in-law when he noticed that Pierce was talking with Philip, and there was a tension to the exchange that set off warning bells.
When the dance ended, he escorted Catherine back to Lord Michael. Even after almost twenty years, they still kept every second set for eac
h other, which Gavin found endearingly romantic. Would he and Alex be like that in twenty years, or would they fail to create a deeper bond and slide into lonely isolation?
Not wanting to pursue that line of thinking, he concentrated on working his way across the crowded ballroom. By the time he reached his cousin, Pierce had moved on and Philip was staring at the dancers with a frown on his face. “I see you and Barton Pierce are acquainted,” Gavin said casually. “He was startled to see me here, since we knew each other in the East.”
“You have my sympathies,” Philip said tartly. “If ever I’ve met an encroaching mushroom, it’s him. Now that I’m not an earl, he’s become damned rude. He probably oozed good nature to you.”
“Hardly. We were never friends.” An understatement. “Do you have business dealings with him? If so, I hope you held closely to your purse.”
“Not closely enough.” Philip hesitated. “I suppose I should mention this since in a way, you’re affected. I promised to recommend him for the Seabourne seat in Parliament, and the district is old-fashioned enough that the earl’s endorsement is a guarantee of election. He’s most unhappy that I can no longer deliver what I promised.”
And Pierce knew damned well that the new earl would not follow through on such an agreement. Reading between the lines, Gavin said, “Did he express his gratitude in advance with gifts or loans, and now he demands repayment?”
“And if he did?” Philip was angry and defensive. “He’s well qualified to be a Member of Parliament. I saw nothing wrong in endorsing him.”
Gavin clamped down on his temper. “He presents himself well, but he’s unscrupulous. Not a man I would choose to help run the country. If you owe him money, I’ll lend you enough to repay him on better terms than whatever he offered you.”
Philip’s anger flared. “By what right do you tell me how to manage my affairs? You may be the head of the Elliott family, but you have no authority over me.”
Realizing he was handling this badly, Gavin said, “I beg your pardon. Of course I have no authority over you. What I meant to convey is that Pierce can be difficult. If you need any assistance…”
“Very kind of you, cousin, but I have no need of your help, now or ever. By your leave.” Philip stalked off like an angry cat.
Uneasily Gavin watched him go, and hoped he hadn’t just created an alliance between two men who hated him.
Cooling herself with a Chinese ivory fan, Troth remarked, “You look much happier now than when the ball began.”
Alex smiled. “I was afraid I’d changed beyond redemption, and everyone would know it in a glance. But while I’m a very different person from the girl who left London, everyone has been so kind that it’s hard to remember why I was anxious.”
“Perhaps you worry too much what people think. I found freedom when I followed my husband’s advice and stopped caring about the opinions of others. Since I will never be properly English, I can either cower and hope not to offend, or scorn ill-wishers as narrow-minded peasants.” Troth laughed. “So I do the latter, and find that Kyle was right. I’m now considered a great beauty and a great hostess, and all because I don’t care. It’s the most delicious of ironies.”
“I’ve always thought of myself as independent and a bit of a rebel, but perhaps you’re right,” Alex said slowly. “I do worry about what others think.”
She’d been most free when she was an intrepid little girl in Spain, but growing to young ladyhood in more conventional circumstances had made her more cautious. She hadn’t wanted to disgrace her mother or the colonel.
When she first emerged from the schoolroom, there had been embarrassing moments when she was too impetuous or too outspoken. Even though her parents were tolerant of her shortcomings, over time she clipped her own wings. She learned how far she could go to be considered spirited rather than wild. Usually she got the balance right, but not always.
One reason she’d chosen Edmund and Australia was to be free of the constant worry of setting a foot wrong. Instead she found a straitlaced society where she was constantly aware that she must not disgrace her husband. Even after she learned about his mistress, she’d done her best to be a worthy wife.
Yet despite all her attempts to be above reproach, on the voyage home she’d been ruined in social terms, through no fault of her own. It was time to stop wasting worry on matters outside her control. “You’ve given me some interesting thoughts to chew on. I shall try to care less about the opinion of the world.”
“As a student of tai chi and wing chun, you are already well on your way to independent eccentricity,” Troth said with a smile. “And the stronger one feels, the easier it is to ignore what others say.”
Refusing to worry about the world’s opinion should eliminate some of her fears, and eliminating fears lowered the barriers between her and her husband. She scanned the ballroom, finding him easily because of his height. He was talking with two older women who watched him, enraptured. He was so handsome that he took her breath away—and he was hers. She felt a surge of pure lust, followed by shock that she could react so strongly. Desire was definitely becoming separated from fear….
“Alexandra?”
She turned to see another former suitor from her season in London, and a splendid sight he was in scarlet regimentals. “Mark! I see you’re a major now. Well done! Do you know my friend, Lady Wrexham? Troth, Major Colwell is an old friend of mine.”
Troth and Mark exchanged greetings, but all his attention was for Alex. “Will you dance with me, Alexandra? I’ve waited a dozen years for another waltz.”
“Of course.” With a smile, she gave him her hand and they stepped onto the floor. Mark had matured well. Only a year older than she, he’d been a lanky, adoring ensign in that long-ago social season. Now he’d filled out and had the commanding presence of a seasoned officer. She’d been a little tempted when he offered marriage—it was flattering to be adored—but he’d been a mere boy compared to Edmund, and besides, his regiment was based in England. “It’s so lovely to see you again. What have you been doing for all these years besides climbing the ranks? Have you married? Become a hero?”
“Neither of those. Your life has been far more adventurous. I was sorry to hear of your husband’s death—and even sorrier to learn that you had remarried. I wish you’d waited until you returned to England so I would have had a chance.” His voice roughened. “What wretched luck to lose you twice!”
Uncomfortable with his intensity, she said, “You can’t lose what you never had. It’s been many years, and we’ve both changed.”
“The years have only made you more beautiful. You have always been my ideal of feminine grace and charm. You still are.” His voice became almost inaudible. “And I still love you.”
He’d obviously spent years constructing a pedestal for a female who existed only in his romantic mind. “I’m honored by your regard, but I think you’ll soon find that I don’t match that ideal, Mark. I never did.”
He smiled at her fondly. “And modest as well as beautiful.”
Had he always been this moony? Yes, she decided, he had, but it had seemed more natural in a nineteen-year-old. “Have you met my husband yet? If not, let me introduce you.”
His expression changed. “If you’d sent for me, I would have come to Sydney to escort you and your daughter home. I would have protected you from the horror of what happened in the Indies.”
She felt a chill—Frederica Pierce was spreading her lies swiftly if Mark had already heard that calamity had befallen her in the East. Reminding herself that she didn’t care, she said lightly, “Don’t believe whatever odd stories you’ve heard. They’re quite untrue.”
“Weren’t you forced to marry a merchant to save your name? If only you’d waited, Alexandra! I would have gladly given you my name, no matter how badly you’ve been defiled.”
Caught between shock and irritation, she said coolly, “I wasn’t ‘forced’ to marry a merchant—I had the incredible good fortune to fi
nd the best and bravest husband any woman could want. As to ‘defilement’”—she made herself laugh—“you really shouldn’t listen to rumors.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Of course you are too honorable not to be loyal to your husband. But if only things could have been different!”
“‘If only’ are the most useless words in the English language, Major Colwell.” The music ended, so she summoned a smile. “It’s good that you could come. I hope you’re having a pleasant time. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
He held on to her hand. “Forgive me, Alexandra! I’ve offended you, and that’s the last thing on earth I want.”
Wondering if she would need a tugging match to escape, she was relieved when Gavin materialized beside her. “I believe the supper dance is ours, my dear?” He turned his gaze to the major. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Major. I’m Seabourne. Are you another of my wife’s old friends?”
For an instant Alex wondered if Mark would do something melodramatic, but he was too well bred for that. Accepting Gavin’s hand, he said, “I’m Mark Colwell. As you surmised, Alexandra and I were…well acquainted before she went East.” He looked as if he wanted to be disdainful, but it was hard not to be impressed by Gavin’s calm presence. “London is the richer for her return.”
“Indeed.” Gavin took Alex’s arm with a light, possessive gesture. “My dear, the most amazing rumors are circulating the ballroom. My favorite is that you were declared goddess of a primitive tribe in New Guinea.”
She managed a laugh. “Is that what you heard, Mark? If only it were true! I’ve always longed to be a queen, but a goddess is even better.” Far better than being a slave.
Mark flushed a little. “I’m sure you would make a splendid queen. Good to meet you, Seabourne.” He raised Alex’s free hand and kissed it. “I trust we’ll be seeing each other again soon, Alexandra.”
After the major moved out of earshot, she said, “Thank you for rescuing me, Gavin. Mark has spent a dozen years turning me into a romantic ideal. Very tedious.”