Mary Moore - The Aristocrat's Lady

“Oh, Nicky, tell me all about it!”

“He was a mere mortal and I met him when I went out on the terrace to get a breath of fresh air. We had a very nice conversation, and since Toby was not with me, Lord Devlin was not aware of my accident. We had a nice pleasant conversation about the Swathmores’ gardens.”

“You call that the answer to my prayers?” Chelsea groaned in exasperation.

Nicole sat up straight and knew she had to be honest with her worrisome sister. “Darling, when all you desire is a little normalcy and it comes along in such a nice and unexpected fashion, believe me, it is a very special answer.”

She could not help thinking back on the evening as she continued. “Lord Devlin was exceptionally kind and made me laugh. You know, more often than not I find myself laughing at London gentlemen, not with them.”

Nicole came out of her reverie and smiled dearly at Chelsea. “That is all there was to it, minx. Now since I told Stella not to wait up for me, would you like to help me change for bed?”

Nicole discovered she was glad to have the company. She suddenly feared the quiet of the night and the subject her thoughts might continue to dwell upon. She could only pray silently for God’s strength.

While Nicole was regretting her decision to have Chelsea as her abigail, Lord Devlin was sitting alone in his coach, his own thoughts far from restive. He was going to his grandmother’s house only two miles beyond Swathmore Hall.

His grandmother was the only relative he felt any fondness for. Indeed, she was the only person he truly loved, as much as he could understand love. Knowing he would be so near tonight, he had informed her through the post that he wished to stay the night with her after the Swathmore fete.

She would want to discuss the ball, but he was not sure he was prepared to talk to anyone about the sudden departure of his usual boredom after meeting Lady Nicole Beaumont. She was a very special woman, of that he was certain.

Discounting his impressions of her physical charms, it was her wit and intelligence, along with her innocence and experience, that made him think of her as more than a beauty. His own mind told him repeatedly that innocence and experience in one package seemed a conundrum, but he felt it nonetheless. Could he believe that such a desirable woman was truly disinterested in marriage or the social whirl?

But as his coach pulled up to the dower’s house, his thoughts changed direction and settled on the woman who had been mother and father to him for most of his life. His grandmother seemed to get a little frailer each time he saw her now, and he knew she could no longer get out of the Bath chair she had once used only as a convenience. She was more special to him than she would ever know.

Lady Augusta, the dowager countess, was his fraternal grandmother and had always tried her best to shield him from his father’s harshness. Devlin’s mother had been too weak to stand up to the fifth Earl of DeVale. Even Devlin’s marriage had been loveless. But his grandmother was strong and her protection had often spared him unjust punishment. They soon came to share a love built on respect and caring that he had never felt before or since.

Indeed, he always looked forward to time with his grandmother. Thinking about it now, he realized he had grown up hearing of his grandmother’s great dependence on God. Lady Nicole also broached that subject.

But as Devlin grew and became more and more embittered with his father and society in general, his grandmother’s beliefs seemed incongruous in the world he lived in.

He supposed his grandmother’s faith in a supreme being had kept him from overt surprise when Lady Nicole had indicated the same. But he believed as a young, beautiful woman in the midst of a London Season, it would be a simple matter to trust in an all-loving God. She had not seen enough of the world to be jaded as he had.

His grandmother was convinced there was still a woman for him who would unlock his heart, and she often castigated Jared’s father for the tangle he had made of her grandson’s life.

Devlin looked forward to recounting to Lady Augusta the details of the Swathmore ball, especially an incident with a platter of turbot, but he did not think he would yet mention the mysterious episode on the terrace. He had not convinced himself that it was not all a trick of the moonlight!

He entered his grandmother’s drawing room and found her comfortably ensconced in her Bath chair near the fire.

“Jared,” she said with a loving smile. “I am so glad you have come.”

Devlin leaned down to kiss the weathered cheek then brought both of her fragile hands up to his lips.

“My lady,” he reproved her, “what are you about, to give up your rest to wait upon me? I should never have asked to come had I suspected you would jeopardize your health over it!” Pulling a covered footstool closer to her chair, he sat before her.

“Goodness, Jared.” It was the lady’s turn to scowl. “What an abominable greeting.” She had feigned anger, but she soon looked at him with her dazzling smile as she squeezed his hand. “My dear, you must not scold me. Tell me all about the ball. Indeed, I shall surprise my neighbors by knowing all the gossip before they do!”

An image of a dark-haired beauty on a moonlit terrace flashed through Devlin’s mind. He decided that despite what he had just told himself, sharing that unexpected encounter would not only please his grandmother, but would possibly help him dispel the air of mystery he had put upon it.

“It was no different from any other of the balls I have attended over the past ten years. I did meet an unusual woman. She left, however, before she could become a dead bore.”

She casually asked him while taking a sip of her tea, “Did you set up a new flirt, dear?”

Devlin laughed out loud. “Grandmother, you are a complete hand!”

“You avoid my question, Jared.”

Devlin laughed again and held up both hands as if to ward off a blow.

“Then tell me, dear, who is it that piqued your interest tonight?” Lady Augusta watched a faraway look come into her grandson’s eyes. She was now certainly intrigued.

“Your description is quite apt, Grandmother. Lady Nicole definitely ‘piqued my interest.’ The sameness of such events is becoming tedious. Dare I admit I was in a dark corner hoping to avoid notice?”

“If what I hear is correct, you very seldom avoid notice.”

“When I was young I found all of the attention quite diverting. I enjoyed the antics some women went to just to get my attention. Fainting spells and sprained ankles were a common occurrence when I was by.” He looked at the older woman with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I would know, do they teach women those maneuvers from a young age, or must you invent such ploys as you go along?”

“Do not be impertinent, Jared. You know very well I despise such artifice.”

He was obediently contrite. “I apologize, ma’am.” He continued with his train of thought. “But after Vivian, I no longer saw such machinations as humorous, and I can no longer even pretend to be flattered by them. These women have no knowledge of me beside what they have heard through the gossipmongers. Yet it seems not to matter as long as I am a wealthy earl.” He stopped, downing the rest of his brandy all at once.

Lady Augusta patted his hand. “I gather the someone you met tonight was quite different?”

“To own the truth, Grandmother, I do not know. I know that while we conversed she had no idea who I was. However, I do believe that had she known, she would not have behaved any differently. I suppose the fact that she did not fawn over me explains my notice of her.” He hoped he sounded nonchalant to his grandmother.