Rosemary Rogers - Surrender To Love

Sir John expelled a slight sigh before he answered a trifle ruefully: “I am very much afraid so, my dear. Especially the young men—most young men, one must suppose—who are influenced by the example set by their elders or by superior officers. Pursuing an attractive young woman is looked upon, I’m ashamed to say, as another form of hunting; and the larger the field, the greater the challenge. Even courtship has developed into a form of ritual these days, with so many prescribed moves to be made—the correct things to say and do to which a woman is supposed to respond correctly also. It has become almost like learning the steps to the latest dance, and it is called ‘polite etiquette’…”

“Oh,” Alexa said thoughtfully before Sir John added hastily, not wishing to dampen her high spirits with philosophy at this time, “But that is not supposed to mean that a man may not be utterly sincere when he expresses his feelings. Men too have been known to fall madly in love at first sight, you know.”

He had to admit to himself that Alexa’s rather matter-of-fact response took him by surprise.

“Well, I think that anyone who professes to fall in love at first sight must be extremely silly. Why, some of the young men I’ve met tonight have only just met me, and know nothing of me—only this Cinderella creature they have glimpsed for the first time tonight. So perhaps what is termed “falling in love” is a ritual too? For how could anyone know what I am like, or what I think, and what kind of a person I really am? At least you know how hard I fight to get my own way, and what an abominable temper I have—because you know me—but they don’t. And they don’t really care about that either, do they? As long as I show myself to be what I am expected to be, I suppose, and don’t show myself to be too intellectual or too clever…!”

Sir John’s mouth quirked as he shook his head at her, but his eyes remained serious as he said quietly: “You mustn’t become cynical too soon, Alexa, not before you’ve given yourself time to experience more of life and understand more of human emotion. Try to enjoy tonight for what it appears to be on the surface and for the learning experience it is proving to be; no more and no less for the moment at least. You’re the most popular, the most sought-after, and the most envied young woman here tonight, you know. Why not savor it to the fullest extent? There’s no need for haste, my dear.”

Long after he had escorted Alexa back to her seat beside her Aunt Harriet, only to have her hand claimed almost immediately by an eager young captain of the Dragoons, Sir John Travers continued to watch her and to remember the first time he had set eyes on the skinny beanpole of a child she had been and the strange sense of affinity he’d felt for her even then. Her bare brown legs had been all scratched from thorns and the sharp leaves of mountain grass, but she had been defiantly riding bareback a wild pony she had actually tamed herself; and there had been an air of almost arrogant triumph about the little wild thing she had been even though she must have known the punishment she faced for having slit her dress up on both sides in order to ride astride. He had interceded for her that day and had introduced her to thoroughbreds and to saddles—but never a decorous side-saddle for Alex, who had always wished she had been born a male. Until now, perhaps, when she had suddenly discovered the feminine side of herself?

Under the crystal chandeliers Alexa’s auburn hair with gold streaks interwoven in it shone like burnished bronze and drew almost every masculine eye, although she herself was not aware of it. Seating himself beside Harriet in the chair her niece had barely sat in all evening, Sir John became engaged in a low-voiced conversation with the older Miss Howard that had her shaking her head at first and then nodding it resignedly. He was right, of course, Harriet had to concede. Now that Alexa had been introduced to society and had proved a success, she needed to follow up that success by spending more time in Colombo, meeting more people.

Alexa had not failed to notice that Sir John and her aunt were engaged in what was obviously a deep conversation. At first she had thought Aunt Harry seemed doubtful about something, from the way she frowned and shook her head; but then she had begun to nod in a somewhat resigned fashion, which was unusual for her and had to mean that Uncle John had some exciting scheme in mind. When would she find out what it was? For it had to concern her, of course. Alexa could tell that much from the many times they glanced in her direction, and she was so full of curiosity that she was barely able to respond to the stilted conversation forced upon her by Captain McLeish. At least she had learned in a very short time that she was not really required to do anything more than listen—and to smile or lower her eyes occasionally while breathlessly murmuring innocuous words like “oh!” or “really?” or “please, do go on!” even if she was unutterably bored by every pompous word her partner uttered. Lies and pretense were the foundation of this new social world she found herself in, and honesty would only make an outsider of her. But how strange it was—and how paradoxical—to be brought up as a child to tell the truth, no matter what the cost, and to despise dishonesty and cheating; and then suddenly to be thrown into the adult world where those were the very things expected of you if you were to be considered “grown up”—and where everyone played at “Let’s Pretend” and took it seriously.

After Captain McLeish had reluctantly escorted Alexa back to the seat Sir John had just vacated, she said as much to Harriet. “It is all like some tremendous game, isn’t it? But once you learn the rules it is almost too easy, and hardly fun any longer—not if you can predict everyone else’s moves and beat them at their own game! And every man I have danced with so far—except for Uncle John, of course—has been so predictable and so boring! It’s as if they have all been cut from the same pattern.”

Harriet snorted her disgust. “Hah! So you’re bored and quite blasé already, are you, with the evening not even halfway through yet. My advice to you, miss, is to develop some humility for your own good, and not become too cock-a-hoop. ‘Cut from the same pattern’ indeed! And what, pray, if you should happen to come across some completely unpredictable man who does not fit into any prescribed pattern? There are men who are…well…blackguards—although I hate to use the word. Men who might come from the most exalted stations in life and might use all the right words and pay lip service to etiquette and convention; and be admired and well thought of by their colleagues and cronies too. You must remember that men will stand up for each other, and it’s always a woman who is blamed if she makes a mistake.”

Alexa’s eyes widened as Harriet pursed her lips over the euphemism she had just used, and then she shrugged impatiently and somewhat resentfully before saying: “I am not so naive, I’m sure, that I will not be able to recognize a man who is a blackguard, if I should meet one. And even if I should, I am surely more than adequately chaperoned tonight, am I not? And thank goodness I am a little more sensible than most of the poor, simpering females here; so that I hardly think…”

“And how sensibly do you imagine you’d continue to think if you should ever imagine yourself to be in love?” Harriet’s voice, as she broke in abruptly, was caustic. “Yes—in love. Madly and unreasonably in love with a man. Happy when he smiles at you and comes to call. Desperately miserable if he smiles at someone else or you do not see him for days. And then? No, don’t shake your head at me in that decided fashion, my dear, for it could happen to you just as easily as it could to anyone else. And pray do not commit the dangerous error of imagining that you are the only female to be miraculously exempt from such a sickness—for that is what it can be like.”