during the day when she'd overhear his deep baritone imparting instructions to one or another of the servants, and always each evening, when the three of them gathered for a last cup of tea, or in Lord Rathbone's case, a snifter of brandy or sherry, in the sitting room abovestairs.
One evening, as Lady Rathbone sat dozing in her chair, the gentleman said, "Perhaps we might get up a game of chess, or backgammon, Alayna. That's another thing I miss in the tropics, having someone to challenge to a game now and again."
"Oh, well, I . . . " Chelsea racked her brain trying to recall if Alayna was a chess player or not. In the end, she decided it didn't really matter. Nothing that transpired between herself and Lord Rathbone would signify once Alayna returned and the perfidy uncovered. In the meantime, she and the gentleman had to fill the long hours of the evening somehow. At least this way there would be the safe barrier of a game table between them.
Lord Rathbone had crossed the room to a corner cupboard and was rifling through it on a quest for the chess pieces or the backgammon suitcase. "Which shall it be?" he asked, his back to Chelsea as he talked.
"Either," she responded feebly.
"Good." Carrying a small box in his hands, he headed for a circular loo table and after tilting the top into position, began to remove the contents from the box. "How about cribbage?" he asked, with a laugh. "It was all I could find."
Chelsea smiled agreeably. "Cribbage is fine. I used to play with my grandfath . . . " Abruptly she stopped. She had played the card game with her Grandpapa Andover many, many times but whether Alayna had played the game or not, she had no idea.
Lord Rathbone was busy dragging a pair of chairs to the table. He glanced up. "You were saying?"
Chelsea swallowed tightly. "I-I haven't played since I was a child. I hope I haven't forgotten the rules."
Lord Rathbone held a chair out for her. "We shall refresh our memories together, Alayna. As I recall, even as a child, you were a fairly apt pupil when it came to games." He positioned the wooden board between them and divided up the small markers, then reached for the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. "The last letter I received from Aunt Hermione said you had taken up whist, or was it faro? I'm not much on gambling, myself," he continued conversationally. "Now, then, let me see . . ." He began to deal the cards.
Chelsea recalled perfectly how to play cribbage, but decided to let him take the lead in explaining it to her. Afterward, they played silently for several minutes, then out of a clear blue, Lord Rathbone said, "I've been thinking about the few letters you wrote to me, Alayna . . . "
Fear clutched Chelsea's middle. What was he going to ask her now?
"Several of your letters last summer," he went on, "were chock fall of the goings-on during your London Season."
Anxiety churned within Chelsea. She knew next to nothing about Alayna's come-out.
As Lord Rathbone continued, his tone grew more serious. "The thing is, Alayna, I do not recall you mentioning the names of any of your suitors, that is, any of the more persistent ones. And with your stunning looks, my dear, there must have been several."
Chelsea ventured nothing on the subject, though his comment on her looks did not escape her notice.
"Well, Alayna? At the risk of sounding inordinately forward, were there any?"
Suddenly Chelsea experienced great difficulty drawing breath. Alayna, she knew, had had several suitors. One in particular. But, as it turned out, the gentleman chose to pursue and finally marry a wealthy heiress from Ramsgate. Nonetheless, Chelsea did not feel obliged to tell Lord Rathbone about it. Especially since Alayna had not.
Affecting one of Alayna's familiar put-upon poses, she said, "I hardly see where that is any concern of yours, Rutherford." Without looking at him, she settled her peg into the next hole in the board with an astonishingly steady hand.
When a reply from him
One evening, as Lady Rathbone sat dozing in her chair, the gentleman said, "Perhaps we might get up a game of chess, or backgammon, Alayna. That's another thing I miss in the tropics, having someone to challenge to a game now and again."
"Oh, well, I . . . " Chelsea racked her brain trying to recall if Alayna was a chess player or not. In the end, she decided it didn't really matter. Nothing that transpired between herself and Lord Rathbone would signify once Alayna returned and the perfidy uncovered. In the meantime, she and the gentleman had to fill the long hours of the evening somehow. At least this way there would be the safe barrier of a game table between them.
Lord Rathbone had crossed the room to a corner cupboard and was rifling through it on a quest for the chess pieces or the backgammon suitcase. "Which shall it be?" he asked, his back to Chelsea as he talked.
"Either," she responded feebly.
"Good." Carrying a small box in his hands, he headed for a circular loo table and after tilting the top into position, began to remove the contents from the box. "How about cribbage?" he asked, with a laugh. "It was all I could find."
Chelsea smiled agreeably. "Cribbage is fine. I used to play with my grandfath . . . " Abruptly she stopped. She had played the card game with her Grandpapa Andover many, many times but whether Alayna had played the game or not, she had no idea.
Lord Rathbone was busy dragging a pair of chairs to the table. He glanced up. "You were saying?"
Chelsea swallowed tightly. "I-I haven't played since I was a child. I hope I haven't forgotten the rules."
Lord Rathbone held a chair out for her. "We shall refresh our memories together, Alayna. As I recall, even as a child, you were a fairly apt pupil when it came to games." He positioned the wooden board between them and divided up the small markers, then reached for the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. "The last letter I received from Aunt Hermione said you had taken up whist, or was it faro? I'm not much on gambling, myself," he continued conversationally. "Now, then, let me see . . ." He began to deal the cards.
Chelsea recalled perfectly how to play cribbage, but decided to let him take the lead in explaining it to her. Afterward, they played silently for several minutes, then out of a clear blue, Lord Rathbone said, "I've been thinking about the few letters you wrote to me, Alayna . . . "
Fear clutched Chelsea's middle. What was he going to ask her now?
"Several of your letters last summer," he went on, "were chock fall of the goings-on during your London Season."
Anxiety churned within Chelsea. She knew next to nothing about Alayna's come-out.
As Lord Rathbone continued, his tone grew more serious. "The thing is, Alayna, I do not recall you mentioning the names of any of your suitors, that is, any of the more persistent ones. And with your stunning looks, my dear, there must have been several."
Chelsea ventured nothing on the subject, though his comment on her looks did not escape her notice.
"Well, Alayna? At the risk of sounding inordinately forward, were there any?"
Suddenly Chelsea experienced great difficulty drawing breath. Alayna, she knew, had had several suitors. One in particular. But, as it turned out, the gentleman chose to pursue and finally marry a wealthy heiress from Ramsgate. Nonetheless, Chelsea did not feel obliged to tell Lord Rathbone about it. Especially since Alayna had not.
Affecting one of Alayna's familiar put-upon poses, she said, "I hardly see where that is any concern of yours, Rutherford." Without looking at him, she settled her peg into the next hole in the board with an astonishingly steady hand.
When a reply from him
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