The Richness of Love Page 8

  “Please, you must not take responsibility for another’s actions. He was not an honourable man around women, but you were not to know that.”

  “Aye, he deceived us all and I cannot forgive him. I trust you have recovered from your ordeal?”

  “Yes. A few bruises but no more. I was fortunate that one of your crew happened upon us when he did.”

  “Wattie did say that he thought that you were in danger. A most timely intervention – ”

  “I cannot thank you enough for taking such prompt action.”

  Moira could not breathe for her heart was beating so hard.

  ‘He is so handsome and so kind,’ she thought, looking at his face intently.

  How her heart was racing. And did she imagine it or was Stuart looking at her with different eyes? Maybe the eyes of love –

  They talked for quite some time. Moira was not aware of how late it was until she heard the cabin crew bringing in the evening meal.

  “I trust you feel well enough to have some dinner?” asked Stuart, getting up.

  “Of course, but I must go and change.”

  “Nonsense, you are well dressed enough.”

  “I wish to get rid of the stench of Mr. MacKinnon,” she replied quietly, “if you will excuse me, I promise I shall not delay you.”

  ‘I do not want this voyage to end,’ she said to herself, as she hurriedly tried to find her apricot chiffon dress that was meant for the London parties. ‘How I wish we could sail off around the world together for ever. I would be so happy.’

  But as she tidied her hair, she knew that it could never be.

  CHAPTER SIX

  All too soon the ship docked at Tilbury. It was already dark as they turned into the Thames Estuary. Moira stood on deck, her luggage at her side, waiting for Ewen.

  “I trust that the carriage you have ordered will be waiting – ”

  Moira turned around to find Stuart standing behind her, silhouetted against the lights of the bridge.

  “Yes, I am sure it will. Ewen does not forget the details.”

  “Unlike myself, I am afraid,” said Stuart smiling, “I find to commit anything to memory takes the very devil of an effort.”

  Moira smiled. She could not see that Stuart possessed any faults – in her eyes, he was perfect.

  “Will I see you on the return journey?” asked Stuart, “Ewen did not say when that might be.”

  “Our stay is indefinite. We have some family business to attend to and we cannot return until it is completed,” replied Moira, sadly.

  “You will permit me to write to you, I hope?” he enquired eagerly.

  “Of course, I would be very pleased to hear from you. You know where we are staying?”

  “With Lord and Lady – ”

  Moira laughed as he struggled to remember their name – Stuart did indeed have a poor memory.

  “Cunningham. They live in Curzon Street, Mayfair.”

  “Now, I must take to the bridge as we dock. I shall say goodbye and hope to see you again presently. It has been most enjoyable.”

  Stuart bowed low and smiled. Moira could feel her heartstrings being tugged – she did not want to leave the Victorious.

  “I am sorry to have kept you waiting, sister,” Ewen’s voice rang out along the deck. “Have you enjoyed the voyage – that incident with MacKinnon notwithstanding?”

  “Yes, I have. I did not think that sea travel would suit me so much.”

  Ewen did not answer but became lost in thought. Was he dreading the end of their journey as well?

  “Tilbury!” he called, pointing to the docks that now loomed in front of them.

  The Victorious edged towards its moorings and then came the inevitable engine shut down. It was with a very heavy heart that Moira walked down the gangway to the quayside. She did not permit herself the indulgence of a backwards glance.

  True to Ewen’s word, the carriage was ready and waiting.

  Climbing in, Moira could feel tears beginning to prick her eyes. She swallowed hard and hurriedly took her seat.

  Very soon, they were on their way to Mayfair and the Cunninghams.

  *

  It was gone eleven o’clock when the carriage finally drew up outside the house in Curzon Street. Moira gazed up at the tall white façade and thought how small the house seemed compared to the generous proportions of most Scottish houses.

  “But it looks like a doll’s house,” she exclaimed, “I cannot believe this is the residence of such notable people.”

  “Aye, and they don’t have the size of house we are accustomed to seeing in Edinburgh or Glasgow. “It will be Georgian judging by its aspect. Tall and narrow.”

  “Since when did my brother become an expert in architecture?”

  “Father told me,” said Ewen. “He is knowledgeable on many subjects, not just farming and horse husbandry.”

  Moira felt sad at the thought of her father. He had seemed so listless, so unlike himself when they had said goodbye. It strengthened her resolve to make a good match in order to save the estate. That would make her father his old self surely.

  The Cunninghams had been in bed for quite some time, but their butler, a solemn-faced man named Berbridge, was waiting to let to them in.

  The slim façade of the house belied its internal extent. Stepping into the hall, they found themselves greeted by a magnificent staircase hung with a crystal chandelier.

  Moira’s bedroom was next to Ewen’s and Berbridge indicated that Lord and Lady Cunningham’s rooms were on the first floor behind the drawing room.

  She quickly undressed by gaslight and then slipped in between the fine linen sheets. The fire in the grate glowed warmly but the room was still quite cold.

  She sank deep into the feather mattress and almost instantly fell asleep.

  *

  The next morning, Moira was woken by a maid bringing in a tray of tea.

  “Her Ladyship breakfasts at nine, my Lady, and would be pleased if you would join her,” said the maid, as she rekindled the fire. She soon had it roaring away.

  Moira pulled out a blue plaid dress that she deemed suitable and dressed quickly.

  As the hall clock struck nine, she found her way downstairs and was directed by Berbridge into the dining room. Lady Cunningham was waiting for her.

  “Dearest Moira, how pleased I am to see you. And looking so well.”

  She clasped Moira’s hand warmly and kissed her on the cheek. Although the Cunninghams were very well to do, Lady Cunningham was refreshingly informal.

  “And is your handsome brother well?”

  “I am sure he will be down presently, Lady Cunningham.”

  “My dear, please call me Sarah. I do so want us to be as sisters whilst you are here. There is no need for stiff titles in this house – you are amongst friends.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Moira took her place at the table and immediately was given a plate of eggs and kedgeree by Berbridge. Another servant poured her tea into a fine bone china cup.

  Lady Cunningham began to chatter excitedly.

  “My dear, I cannot tell you how many invitations have been arriving. The Season is well and truly upon us and simply everyone who is anyone is entertaining. I do hope you are well rested, as you will need all your strength to dance. The first party is tonight at the Duke of Aberfair’s house in Hanover Square. It is quite near here.”

  “Indeed?” replied Moira, slightly nervous.

  She had not thought she would be plunged into the social whirl quite so rapidly.

  “Good morning to you all.”

  Ewen stood in the doorway, now fully recovered from his arduous journey.

  Lady Cunningham rose and kissed him on the cheek he was quite taken aback by her forward manner and did not know how to respond.

  “Sit down, do. Berbridge will bring you eggs, bacon, kedgeree whatever you wish.”

  “Aye, I am quite hungry, thank you,” responded Ewen, his eyes shining with delight. I
t was hard not to show pleasure after many months of deprivation at Lednock.

  “I was just telling your sister that there is a coming-out party for the Duke of Aberfair’s youngest daughter tonight.”

  “Grand,” commented Ewen, tucking into an enormous plate of food.

  “If you are in the mood for seeking a bride, there will be plenty of eligible young ladies present,” added Lady Cunningham, mischievously.

  Moira giggled to herself, any concerns she had about lack of available partners were vanishing.

  “Now, what will you do with yourselves until then?”

  “I had thought maybe a walk around Hyde Park – I so long to see it. Ewen, will you accompany me?”

  “Mmm,” he nodded, his mouth full.

  “Please take my carriage, if you wish. I have household business this morning so I am afraid I cannot come with you. Luncheon will be at half-past twelve, so be sure to be back in time.”

  She rose and left the dining room.

  “How did you sleep?” enquired Ewen, sitting back in his chair, pleasantly full.

  “Like a baby. And you?”

  “Aye, the same. Now, let us take the morning air, I have a mind to see some sights.”

  And so, some twenty minutes later, the two of them found themselves in a carriage bound for Hyde Park. Moira pulled a woollen rug over her legs and snuggled up to Ewen against the chill of the morning.

  “It sounds as if this party could provide plenty of interesting introductions.”

  Moira smiled as they rounded the Serpentine with its ducks and geese.

  “Aye, and I am certain that you will have no trouble attracting attention.”

  Moira looked away, she wished she could be as sure as her brother – she was still convinced that she would forever be in the shade of the fashionable London ladies.

  As the carriage continued its way around the park, Moira began to wonder if Stuart would indeed honour his promise of writing to her.

  ‘I hope he remembers where we are staying he did seem rather vague.’

  But she did not have time to think too much about Stuart as day passed in a flash.

  After a fine luncheon, Lady Cunningham took her to William Whitley’s emporium in Queensway and bought her some new Nottingham lace handkerchiefs.

  Moira was enchanted by the fantastic department store, with its many floors of merchandise. As she ascended the central marble staircase, she felt that she had stepped into a dream world.

  She gazed longingly at the ball gowns made of tulle and silk, all in the latest styles. She thought with a sinking heart of her favourite apricot chiffon that looked so out of date with its wrongly shaped skirt. These gowns had small neat pads at the back instead of a bustle and the bodices were so much more tailored.

  Exhausted, she flopped into the waiting carriage and dozed all the way back.

  All too soon, it was time to leave for the ball. Moira regarded herself in the cheval mirror in her bedroom and groaned. Although her diamonds gave her an expensive look, her dress ruined the effect.

  ‘I wonder if Sarah has a dress she could lend me, we are around the same size – ’

  But pride would not allow her ask such a favour. And it might lead to Lady Cunningham wondering about the Strathcarrons’ finances. Moira hoped that living in an unfashionable part of the country would be sufficient to explain away her hideously out-of-date dress.

  “My dear, you look exquisite,” gushed Lady Cunningham as Moira descended the stairs. “I have a mink wrap that will set off the colour of your dress perfectly.”

  Moira was not too proud to accept Lady Cunningham’s generous attempt at smartening her up and she gratefully accepted the proffered wrap.

  “Splendid. Now come, both of you, the carriage awaits.”

  Ten minutes later, the Cunninghams’ carriage pulled up outside a very grand residence in Hanover Square. There were already a number of similar conveyances lining the street, each disgorging their glittering contents.

  ‘Everyone looks so glamorous,’ moaned Moira to herself.

  She had spotted a young girl around her age in a pale lemon dress and gamboge coloured, velvet cloak entering the Aberfair’s home. She wore fresh flowers in her hair and her gown was trimmed with tiny beads. As she turned, Moira could see the narrow bustle sitting beautifully behind her.

  ‘So fashionable. My skirts are all wrong. My bustle is too big.’

  Ewen’s eyes were bulging with delight.

  “Aye, the lassies are bonny in London,” he exclaimed, watching the girl in the lemon gown. An identically dressed girl, who was obviously her sister accompanied her.

  The two girls were laughing gaily as they disappeared into the hallway.

  By the time that Moira was helped from the carriage by the Cunninghams’ driver, she was shaking with nerves. Lady Cunningham took hold of her arm to steady her.

  “Do not worry, my dear. You look as charming as any present tonight.”

  Moira smiled gratefully at her – Lady Cunningham was so kind.

  The Aberfair’s house was immaculate, the furnishings rich and of the best possible quality. Moira and Ewen gawped in wonder at an enormous French chandelier.

  Everywhere seemed to sparkle – from the crystal glasses full of champagne to the Venetian glass gas-lamp shades. There were six-branched candelabra in the dining room and everywhere they looked there was silverware of the kind that the Strathcarrons had once owned but had since discreetly disappeared.

  Moira tried hard not to seem overly impressed, as she knew that this would mark her out as a provincial. She was an Earl’s daughter and could hold her head up as such.

  Almost as soon as they arrived, Lady Cunningham was taken to the Duke.

  “Come, both of you,” she beckoned, as a footman led her to where the Aberfairs were holding court.

  Moira followed her tentatively with Ewen close at her heels. Everyone they passed seemed so elegant. She felt sure that dozens of pairs of critical eyes were appraising her.

  “You look a picture, sister,” whispered Ewen. “I have noticed many young men looking your way.”

  “Ah, Lady Cunningham. How wonderful to see you and looking so well.”

  The Duke of Aberfair was a small man with white hair and a distinguished countenance. His bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

  Moira could detect a slight Welsh accent and this made her warm to him.

  “And these are my dear friends, Lord and Lady Strathcarron. They are Scott, the Earl of Strathcarron’s children.”

  The Duke took Moira’s hand and kissed it, before greeting Ewen warmly.

  “Delighted, delighted! How is Scott? I have not had the pleasure of seeing him for quite some time – ”

  “Father has been a little unwell of late,” spoke up Moira.

  “I am sorry to hear that, I trust it is nothing serious?”

  “No, just a lingering cold that will not abate.”

  The Duke spoke a while with Ewen on the subject of horses, before turning to introduce his daughter who was standing with a group of friends.

  Almost immediately there was a burst of girlish laughter and Ewen disappeared in amongst the group. Moira could see the girls flashing their eyes at him and fanning themselves coquettishly.

  ‘And it is hardly warm enough for that,’ she thought, almost jealous that her brother had been such an instant success.

  Lady Cunningham took her around the room, introducing her to various people. They all seemed so grand.

  As the evening wore on, Moira saw very little of Ewen. Whenever she looked for him, he was surrounded by girls, all making him ‘talk Scottish’, as they put it.

  She could see that he was enjoying himself.

  “Moira, there is a young gentleman who wishes to meet you.”

  Lady Cunningham had returned with a thin-looking fellow in a sober suit.

  “This is Charles, his father is the Bishop of Westminster.”

  “Delighted to meet you,�
� replied Moira, casting a discerning eye over the young man and immediately comparing him with Stuart. She found him somewhat lacking.

  “Lady Cunningham tells me that you are Scottish. I am fond of that land myself hill walking is a hobby of mine.”

  “There are plenty of hills to climb around Loch Earn,” answered Moira politely.

  “I have walked the entire length of Hadrian’s Wall,” continued Charles, not listening to Moira at all. “It was a most bracing experience.”

  Moira could feel her eyelids drooping as he told her, in great detail, about each and every walk he had undertaken in the last year.

  ‘How I wish Stuart was here,’ she thought. ‘He would not chatter on at me endlessly I wonder if he will write to me?’

  As soon as she could politely withdraw from Charles’s boring company, Moira excused herself.

  Walking around the house, she could not stop from feeling very much like the poor relation. The girls all seemed so confident and at ease while the men paid them fulsome compliments.

  Not a single gentleman apart from Ewen had passed comment on her appearance.

  The party dragged on endlessly and Moira was heartily relieved when Lady Cunningham appeared to inform her that their carriage was ready to leave.

  “So soon,” exclaimed Ewen.

  “You will have plenty of chance to see those young ladies again at the Earl of Hackfield’s masked ball tomorrow night,” remarked Lady Cunningham, as they departed.

  Moira remained silent all the way back to Curzon Street – all she could think of was Stuart Weston –.

  *

  The next morning, Lady Cunningham whisked Moira off to Bond Street for some shopping before the next social event.

  “The cream of London Society will be present,” she twittered, as they strode along the famous street full of enticing shops. “I am sure that both my Scottish visitors will be a raging success.”

  “If last night is anything to go by, then I am sure that Ewen will acquire many admirers,” replied Moira, feeling quite depressed. Not even the finery displayed in the shops could raise her spirits.

  Later Moira found herself with Ewen back in Lady Cunningham’s carriage on their way to Hampstead.