Gypsy Legacy: The Earl, page 5
"Hmmm.” He seemed to be thinking for a moment. “In Rome I came across a small menagerie."
"A menagerie? What was so unusual about a menagerie?"
"This one had some unusual animals in it."
She tilted her head to one side, studying his face. “Such as?"
His eyes glinted in the candlelight and she thought she detected speculation beneath the surface before it became light and amusing again.
"Well, there was a monkey, a bear, a panther, an elephant..."
She didn't know why, but intuition told her there was more to this conversation than she understood.
She pursed her lips. “Interesting."
"Monkeys, bears and even elephants are common in menageries. But I found the panther interesting. Have you ever seen one?"
Her heart lurched in her chest. Why did he want to know whether she'd ever seen a panther? Did he know about JoJo? Had Nona told him she had it? She couldn't have. Nona had only known her as Katie. Besides, Nona was long dead.
"Only in books."
"The owner was selling small figurines of the different animals. He insisted some of his best customers came from England. I think he thought I was looking for items to ship back to a shop to sell. I wonder if they would have sold."
"I suppose that would depend on what animals they were."
"Hmmm."
She kept her features neutral under his thoughtful gaze.
"I suspect there are already shops on Bond Street selling such things. Have you seen any? Monkeys, elephants, panthers, or maybe even bears?"
"No.” She was having difficulty concentrating. It was fortunate her feet knew the steps or she might have stumbled at the last question. Why would he want to know about animal figurines? “Not that I can think of."
"Relax,” he said with a chuckle. “It wasn't a trick question."
She frowned up at him, but the twinkle in his eyes convinced her that her suspicions were unfounded, and she reciprocated with a smile of her own.
The waltz came to a close and Jon escorted her back to her friends.
As they approached the knot of people, Jon noticed Tina and Jay across the way. Excusing himself to go join them, Felicia excused herself as well.
"That was very nice of you,” she told him as they left the small group behind.
"What was?"
"Asking Martha to dance."
He chuckled. “It was self-preservation. I would have never shaken Miss Bascomb."
"True. Martha has always been shy, but when Charity came to town this Season, she just seems to have gotten worse. They're cousins and Martha is the elder, but Charity has always outshone Martha. Sometimes I think she does it on purpose."
"It's difficult to outshine a person on purpose. It's usually an aspect of a person's personality."
"Not where Charity and Martha are concerned. The truth is that Charity is jealous, but Martha doesn't see it because she doesn't see herself as anyone to be jealous of. All she needs to realize is that Charity would kill for her brown hair and dark eyes rather than the flaming mop Charity calls her own hair, and she'd feel a lot better. Unfortunately, all she sees is Charity's personality, much of which is forced."
"You can't solve everyone's problems, you know."
"I know, but I can solve Martha's. She's in love with someone and I'm going to see that she gets him."
"Who?"
She shook her head. “I can't tell you. But as soon as I work something out, I'll let you know."
"Why is it I'm not sure I want to know?” They reached Tina and Jay as she responded.
"You should,” she murmured.
Jon stood in the shadows of the terrace, staring off into the darkened garden beyond the ballroom. Having finally escaped his sisters, and danced dutifully with a number of matrons and another young woman on his list, he was enjoying the cool night air.
The doors opened and a couple exited the ballroom and slipped into the garden. Another couple did the same a few minutes later. Jon was about to go back inside when the doors opened and yet another couple stepped out onto the terrace.
"It's too important a decision to make lightly,” Amanda was saying. “I will give you my answer on Friday, like I promised."
"What is there to think about?” Lord Thurston demanded. “Either you wish to become my viscountess or you don't."
Jon melted back into the shadows, unable to quell his curiosity.
"Is that what you think? That it's a question of whether I want your title or not?"
Jon wondered why Thurston didn't seem to notice the irritation in Amanda's voice.
"Of course. Isn't that what every young woman wants?"
"Not this one."
"Then what do you want?"
"I haven't decided yet.” She turned and looked out over the garden and Jon openly studied her profile from his hiding place. The moon was playing hide-and-seek with the clouds, but the pale pink gown she wore shimmered in the faint light. “When I decide, I'll know whether you can give it to me or not. And then I'll decide whether I will marry you."
Thurston's disbelief was obvious. “And you'll decide all this by Friday?"
Amanda turned back to her suitor. “You don't think I will?” she asked, the challenge in her voice obvious.
The viscount must have seen something in her eyes, for he changed tactics. “Of course. I'm sure you will,” he said placatingly. “It's just that I wouldn't want you to worry that beautiful head too much about all this. Once we are married, there will be so many other things to keep us occupied that we will wonder why we waited so long."
Amanda's back was to Jon and he noted the way she stiffened at the viscount's reply. The tension radiating from her was almost tangible. He wondered if Thurston was truly that dense.
"Such as?"
"I thought we might go to Paris,” Thurston was saying. “You could do some shopping for some new gowns. Once we return, there would be redecorating to do and, of course, a nursery to set up."
The condescending tone in his voice grated on Jon's nerves. He could imagine what it was doing to Amanda's.
"I see.” Amanda's voice could have frozen boiling soup, not that Thurston noticed. “And what of my charity work?"
"Well, you may continue to donate to the poor unfortunates, but I, of course, will have to oversee the amounts.” He all but patted her on the head, so patronizing was his reply.
"I see."
One of the couples who had entered the garden earlier returned to the terrace. The young woman's eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. Jon smiled to himself as he watched the pair enter the ballroom. Unfortunately, Amanda also reentered the ballroom in their wake, Thurston trailing behind her.
He nearly laughed out loud once they were gone. So, Thurston had asked for Amanda's hand. That was one arrangement that would never work. Of medium height with light brown hair and grey eyes, he supposed Thurston was decent enough. He didn't look soft and Jon guessed he could be considered handsome, but he wasn't right for Amanda.
Amanda was vibrant and alive, but Thurston was dull and boring. Pleasant, but still dull and boring. There was no other way to sum up the differences. He reminded Jon a bit of Amanda's father. He wondered if Amanda saw him that way too. Heaven forbid Amanda should marry a younger version of her own father. That would be too much.
Too bad, he thought. If Amanda married Thurston, that would be one less problem for him. At least she didn't have the panther. He had noted the curiosity in her eyes when he told her that outrageous fib about the menagerie and the figurines, but it had been all he could come up with on a moment's notice. She would have seen through the story he'd told the other young women.
Reentering the ballroom a short time later, he was waylaid by Lady Barrington. While they conversed, Amanda and Lord Thurston joined them, Thurston taking his leave only moments later. When Amanda's father arrived to dance with his wife, he and Amanda were left standing on the side of the ballroom alone.
Jon didn't wait for an opening. “I understand felicitations may be in order soon."
Amanda stiffened, her eyes narrowing up at him even as her smile stayed in place.
"Who told you that?"
"Is it a secret Thurston has asked?"
"No, but I haven't given him my answer yet.” She relaxed somewhat, but still seemed uneasy.
They stood in silence for a few moments, watching the progress of the cotillion. “And have you come to a decision?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Curiosity."
Amanda looked up into his face, searching for ... what? He wasn't sure, but he kept his expression carefully blank.
"Do you want my opinion?"
Startled, she couldn't hide the surprise in her eyes. “Why would I want your opinion? You don't even know him."
Jon smiled. “True. But as an unbiased bystander, I could give you my humble impression. That is, provided you are interested."
He knew her curiosity was aroused. She wanted to know, but didn't dare ask. Why he was teasing her, he couldn't have explained to himself, but watching the speculation in those lovely blue eyes kept him from backing off.
"Weelll, just for the sake of conversation, suppose I was? Interested. In your impressions, that is. Then what?"
"Well, just for the sake of conversation, I would say he seems like a nice young man.” She relaxed slightly. “But he reminds me a bit of your father.” Her eyes widened at that statement, but she said nothing, so he continued. “But I understand that sometimes young women prefer the comfort of the familiar when they marry, hence they are likely to marry someone like their own sire."
Jon knew he was gambling on her feelings for her father by his last statement. That Amanda loved her father was no secret. That he loved her and indulged her in return was also no secret. Which was why he was certain Lord Barrington would not force her to accept a proposal from just anyone. But Lord Barrington was a bit of a prig when it came to women and their place in society. And it was obvious Lord Thurston shared his views.
The music ended and her parents rejoined them. After a few moments, he excused himself and headed for the door. Tomorrow was another day and he still had four more women to question. Reaching the front foyer, he collected his hat and cloak from the butler and left.
Amanda stared into the darkness. Moonlight streamed through the open drapes on both sides of her bed, providing enough light to see the shapes of the furniture scattered around the room. The mirror above her dressing table reflected some of the light back, but she barely noticed it. Sitting up, the statuette in her lap, Jon's words came back to her.
He reminds me of your father.
Had she noticed the similarities before? Similar color hair and eyes. Facial features somewhat the same. The tendency to lecture and patronize. They even had similar views on women's reading materials.
Her father often objected to her choice of reading materials, but never had he gone so far as to suggest she should confine herself to novels and fashion magazines. She had casually mentioned to Lord Thurston tonight that she was reading The Odyssey and his reaction had not been positive. She had been relieved when she realized he assumed she was reading an English translation. She had not bothered to correct him. Especially when, in the next breath, he suggested Homer was too difficult for her to understand and she should stick to novels and fashion magazines.
She did not want to marry her father. Eliza might be content with him, but she would not.
She looked down at her panther. The emeralds seemed to glow in the meager light. “I should never have danced with him,” she whispered. “He makes me think about things which are best forgotten.” Like that kiss. She stroked the sleek black figure as memories intruded. Dancing with Jon had resurrected memories she'd tried to bury. Being held in his arms reminded her of what it had been like. What it could be like.
She'd decided to move on with her life, hadn't she? She wasn't going to wait for Jon to realize they belonged together, was she? He would probably eventually marry, but she couldn't wait, could she? She wasn't getting any younger, and she wanted a home and family of her own, didn't she?
Why had he come back now? Why couldn't he have stayed away a little longer? If she had been married already by the time he returned, it would have been better. For whom? She didn't want to dwell on that question, or its answer. If she had already been married, she would have been content. She wouldn't have given the Earl of Wynton a second glance.
She sighed. “Why can't I just forget him?” she asked the statuette. “It's not as if he's ever paid me any particular attention."
Does it matter?
She wished it did, but she knew the truth. It didn't. She needed to learn to live with her own weakness. As long as Jon was present, no one else measured up. She had already told two others no while he was out of the country. What made her think she would be stronger now that he was back?
She had told David tonight that when she decided what she wanted, she would decide whether he could give it to her. If she hadn't danced with Jon, she might still be undecided, but now she knew. She wanted Jon, and David could not give that to her. It was as simple as that.
It had taken only one dance for her to realize that there would never be anyone for her but Jon. But what was she to do about it? How was she to persuade him that she was the right person for him? How would she convince him that they belonged together?
Nona promised her she would have her gypsy prince, but she knew that to mention anything regarding his background to Jon might cause more trouble than she was prepared to deal with. Jon was sensitive about his gypsy heritage. Too many matrons used it capriciously to categorize him whenever possible. So, how was she to let him know?
"I should have told him about you.” But she didn't want him on those terms.
After Tina and Felicia, she had determined for herself what the panther represented. At first she had been ecstatic, nearly delirious with joy as she realized Nona had chosen her. But he had already been on the Continent for a year when she'd figured it out and the longer he stayed there, the less sure of herself she became. Besides, she didn't want him just because Nona might have told him to marry the person with the statuette. Despite that Nona had told her she should only marry her “prince", she wanted more than an arranged marriage. She wanted him to want her—not just her panther.
She sighed and snuggled down under the counterpane. Maybe she should have told him. But after the incident three years ago, she was afraid of his reaction. He hadn't wanted her then. Why would she think his feelings had changed in the interim? And if they hadn't, would she have him just because she had his statuette and he was following orders?
Hugging JoJo close, she burrowed deeper under the covers, seeking the solace she always felt with the statuette near. Tonight, however, it was elusive. Instead, she yearned for a strong pair of arms, a solidly muscled chest and tender smile topped by deep green eyes.
She groaned. Maybe she should marry Thurston after all.
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Chapter Four
Amanda alighted from her carriage, glanced up and down the street, then crossed the pavement and entered the building before her. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the street outside, it was quiet inside. Heading down the darkened, but clean, hallway, she passed two doors before reaching the one she wanted and, opening it, stepped inside.
A middle-aged matron sat behind a small desk in a corner on the opposite side of the room, her dark grey dress nearly blending in with the drab walls. Two small, grimy windows, close to the ceiling, opened on to an alley, letting in very little light, but helping to alleviate the stuffiness. A brazier for providing heat in the winter sat in the corner near the door. On rows of benches, neatly lined up four deep, sat nearly twenty girls, aged ten to twelve.
Heads bent, the girls worked on slate tablets before them, copying the words from the large board in front. Slipping out of her dark blue cloak and hanging it on a peg by the door, she glanced at the board, and smiled. Mabel always used verses from the Bible when the girls needed to practice their penmanship.
"A good verse,” she said to Mabel as she approached the desk.
Mabel gave her a gap-toothed smile. “It never hurts to teach from the good Lord's word."
"As long as it's plain, simple and easy to understand.” She glanced at the board again. “Are they nearly finished?"
Mabel nodded. “What're ye teaching today?"
"Arithmetic,” Amanda answered. “I think we will review basic addition and subtraction, then start with multiplication."
"Good,” Mabel approved. “Never know when the grocer or the draper will need an apprentice what knows their numbers. Jest don't let Mr. Cooper catch ye."
Amanda grimaced. “I won't. I'll make sure they have their needlework handy and if he asks, I'll tell him they need to know how to count their stitches if they are to turn out a decent product."
As a rule, Amanda hated deceiving anyone, but she considered this a necessity. Ever since a new headmaster had been put in place to run the Wynton School for Girls, the curriculum for girls had been severely curtailed. In addition, the Board that handed out the grant money which kept most of the schools in London afloat ordained that girls be taught more domestic subjects, including needlework. Unfortunately, that meant other subjects had to go in order to make room, and for Mr. Cooper, the school headmaster, the subject considered unimportant for girls was arithmetic. Amanda, however, had other ideas and Mr. Cooper rarely entered the classrooms. As a volunteer, a donor directly to the school, and a gently bred lady, Amanda was considered competent to teach needlework.
She knew Mr. Cooper would think long and hard before he asked her to leave. She brought sizeable donations with her to the school, and she worked for free. In addition, she had, with Felicia's help, convinced Jon's grandmother to set up and fund a foundation for the school. The Board had been so grateful they named the school after her. Amanda hadn't told anyone else, but she had begun to think the school should disassociate itself from the Board altogether. Just how she was going to accomplish that she hadn't yet decided, but she would discuss it with the dowager countess soon. Despite her plans, she did not like flouting the rules openly, so she went along as best she could, adding subjects when she saw an opening to do so.
