Seduced by a Scoundrel - By Barbara Dawson Smith Page 0,11
women pivoted, gasping in unison.
Her heart beating swiftly from the frantic search, Alicia took grim satisfaction in their discomfiture as she marched toward them. She wouldn’t hesitate to use her family’s sterling status to silence these insensitive boors.
The sour-faced woman dipped into a stiff curtsy. “My lady! This is a surprise.”
Her apple-cheeked companion almost tripped in her haste to follow suit.
In her haughtiest voice, Alicia said, “You would do better to make your obeisance to Lady Brockway.”
“We would, but … but…” the stout woman sputtered, her lips quivering in alarm, “but it is nearly luncheon time. Come along, Louise.” The two women hastened toward one of the town houses along the square.
Alicia wanted to fling another insult at their departing backs. Gossipy old hens! She held her tongue; further estranging the neighbors would only worsen their narrow-minded opinions.
And it would reflect all the more poorly on Mama.
Aware of a catch in her throat, she continued down the path to the bench. The pigeon launched itself into the air in a flutter of gray wings. The flower-seller spied Alicia, and a smile bloomed on her pixie face.
Her blue eyes sparkled as she waved a limp bouquet tied with a ragged length of pink ribbon. “Tuppence, miss. Tuppence fer the finest flowers in all of London town.”
Alicia smiled at her mother. To hide a stab of bittersweet affection, she gathered the wilting crocuses and inhaled their delicate fragrance. It saddened her, these times when no recognition shone in Mama’s eyes. Today, Eleanor, Lady Brockway, wore the mask of a stranger.
As always, Alicia played along with her mother’s latest fantasy. “Thank you. But I’m afraid I haven’t brought my money purse. Would you mind walking home with me?”
“Ye may take the blooms fer free,” Lady Eleanor said grandly, her soft aristocratic voice marred by a counterfeit Cockney lilt. “I’ll be busy makin’ other sales.”
Alicia doubted that. Her mother was attracting scandalized attention not only from the people strolling the walkways, but also from the nearby houses. In more than one window, a drapery twitched and a pale oval face peered at them. A part of her wanted to stick out her tongue like a child; the more practical side saw the need to escort her mother back inside, where no one would sneer at her.
“I insist on paying you,” Alicia said. “Do come with me. It’s only a short walk.” She straightened her mother’s cape, took her by the elbow, and gently helped her to her feet.
“Oh, bother.” Lady Eleanor’s lower lip trembled. “Truth be told, no one will buy from me. No one at all.”
The hurt in her voice arrowed into Alicia. “Never mind them. Vulgar people don’t appreciate pretty flowers, that’s all.”
Her mother brightened. “Aye. Ye must be right.”
As they walked through the park, Alicia glanced past the plane trees to the row of houses. Like the others, theirs was a tall stone dwelling with pillars and three floors of windows, the roof crowned by several chimney pots. Her gaze riveted to the vehicle slowing to a halt at the curbstone.
Guided by a liveried coachman, a pair of matched bays drew the sleek black coach. The carriage parked in the place where, only minutes ago, Lord Hailstock’s barouche had stood. The marquess had quickly taken his leave after Mrs. Molesworth’s agitated announcement, and Alicia hadn’t had time to feel disappointed or angry at his desertion. Her attention had been focused on finding Mama.
Alicia sighed inwardly. The visitor must be one of Gerald’s high-flying friends, though the young coxcombs seldom came to call anymore, in part because of her mother and in part because of Alicia’s disapproval.
She might have taken Mama in the back way, except they lived in the middle of the block, and it would mean walking the gauntlet of busybodies down the street, around the corner, and through the mews. She would rather spirit Mama inside quickly without subjecting her to another hurtful snub.
Crossing the busy street, she kept an arm around her mother’s girlishly slender waist. Lady Eleanor hummed a tuneless ditty and half skipped over the hard cobbles. The basket of flowers swung from her hand, and her bare toes kicked up her hem. Lost in her own world, she didn’t notice the neighbors gawking from windows and door stoops.
And just as well, Alicia thought, her chin held high. She couldn’t bear it if Mama comprehended the fear and loathing her madness inspired. Better she stay indoors, protected within the warm circle of family.