"I'll tell your mother we had a good talk." His father offered Sam a conspiratorial smile. "Calm her nerves for a time. You boys go off and enjoy yourselves."
"What the hell was that all about?" Eddie asked as the two men stood on the drive outside Ranelagh House, waiting for Sam's carriage to be brought up.
"My father came as emissary for Mother, who has decided Clarissa Thornton will suit as my next wife. I told him, as I did Mother, that I'm not interested. He thinks I need time to get over my wounds from Penelope. He also thinks Miss Ionides will serve in the interim as a suitable bed partner just so long as I don't entertain any notions about marrying her. Apparently, her skin is too dark," Sam finished sardonically.
"Perfect would more aptly describe it."
"Not when her family is made up of Levant merchantmen," Sam noted mockingly.
"Your père could, however, overlook Penelope's nymphomania because she was from good Anglo-Saxon stock."
Sam tipped his head faintly. "He called her a bit of a trial."
"He was lucky her escapades didn't end in a trial. That would have changed his notions about good Anglo-Saxon stock."
Sam exhaled. "Both my parents have descended on me in less than a week. Hopefully, I shall be free of them for at least another month now. And my thanks for appearing so opportunely, although I was quite willing to perjure myself to avoid listening to my father's views on the state of the country, the government and the rising tide of the bourgeoisie."
"Luckily, my père prefers the country. Not so many mushrooms, [7] he says."
"When so many country estates are being purchased by the new industrialists. Is he blind?"
"Conveniently blind. My mother keeps their social circle small in order to forestall the inevitable shock when he discovers he's surrounded by new neighbors."
"Gentility is nothing more than ancient riches made by some tradesmen long ago. I was tempted to remind Father of our nabob ancestors."
"But you didn't wish to prolong the conversation."
"Exactly. I say as little as possible and leave as soon as possible when dealing with my parents."
"Thank God mine stay in the country. Now, are we really going to Tattersalls?"
"No, we're going to Aspreys. I need a present suitable for an infant."
Chapter Nineteen
The clerk at Aspreys recognized Sam. The viscount was the envy of every young male who aspired to status as a bon vivant. So his shock was genuine when Sam said, "I am in need of a gift for a newborn."
Though Eddie had had time to absorb his initial surprise at Sam's aberrant behavior, he remained mildly disconcerted. In his experience, Sam and babies didn't even have a nodding acquaintance no matter gossip had tried to connect Sam with any number of births in the years he'd been entertaining himself in the boudoirs of society ladies. Perhaps it was a joke.
But after viewing countless rattles and cups, dainty jeweled picture frames and engraved spoons and porringers, Eddie realized that Sam was perfectly serious. Eddie burned with curiosity.
After a time, Sam decided on an antique silver rattle. It was prettily wrapped, the clerk said, "Congratulations, sir," with a degree of innuendo Sam ignored, and soon the men were standing outside Aspreys, their mission accomplished. "Now some flowers, I think," Sam said, looking across the street at a fashionable florist shop.
"For the baby?" Eddie inquired, his expertise in these matters nonexistent.
"No, for Alex." Sam pursed his mouth. "I hadn't thought about the baby-I suppose I should bring some for the child… and the mother as well."
"Do you even know the mother?"
"Of course I know her. She's Alex's sister-in-law," Sam said as though Eddie were dense. "I wonder where they live?" Apparently, he didn't perceive the two statements as incompatible.
In short order three bouquets were purchased, a small nosegay of white roses and two boxes of pink roses. Now the question remained-where to deliver them?
"Leighton will know," Sam decided.
When Sam asked Sir Leighton for Tina's address, the artist masked his surprise. Ranelagh had met Alex two days earlier and now he was bringing gifts to her relative? There were astonishing implications in this seemingly polite ritual.
But then, Alex was astonishing.
Sam, on the other hand, appeared unconscious of the wonder his actions provoked. After a few moments, he thanked Leighton for the address, declined his offer of a drink, and bid him good-bye with a marked casualness.
On reentering his carriage, Sam addressed Eddie. "I'll drop you off at the Marlborough Club if you like, or would you prefer Hattie's?"
"Don't I get to see the new baby?" Eddie looked pained.
"No. When did you begin to like babies anyway?"
"The same time you did. And you're not being very friendly," Eddie grumbled. "Didn't I just save you from your father?"
"I believe I've saved you a number of times as well, from circumstances a trifle more daunting than my father's visit. Like when I helped you out of the second-story window at Lady Waddell's, or that rather dicey incident when you needed me to back you up against Mordaunt's wrath when he found you with-"
"Point taken," Eddie conceded. "But if you won't let me watch this interesting spectacle unfold, tell me, at least, why the hell are you doing this?"
"Because I want to see her."
"Like you wanted to see the harem in Constantinople?"
Sam's expression was unreadable for a moment, and then he smiled. "Something like that."
The Ionideses lived south of the City, where the family had built a number of homes at Briana Hills. According to Leighton, the new mother resided in a Florentine-style villa just a stone's throw from the family mansion.
After reaching the appropriate house in a landscape dotted with palatial homes, Sam descended from his carriage and stood for a moment on the gravel drive, surveying the beauty of the landscaped grounds. Flowers ran riot in a setting no doubt made to look natural by an army of gardeners, the colorful blossoms massed in a brilliant palette against the green of the hills. No wonder Alex's garden had been so lush, Sam thought.
A footman descended the long bank of steps and bowed before him. "Welcome to Briana Hills, sir."
"I've come to see Miss Alexandra Ionides. Is she here?"
"Yes, sir. Who shall I say is calling?"
"Viscount Ranelagh. I have some flowers in my carriage that should be brought inside."
"Very good, sir." The footman lifted his hand and a page boy came running out from behind a clipped boxwood hedge. After giving the boy instructions, he said, "This way, Lord Ranelagh. I'll see if Miss Alex is available."
A sense of excitement and bustle was immediately apparent as Sam stepped into a resplendent entrance hall of pink marble, jewel-encrusted icons, and plush Oriental carpets, adding an exotic splendor to the setting. Servants were running up and down the stairs, the sound of doors slamming and snatches of conversation echoed down the staircase from the floor above, and then suddenly the thin, high wail of a baby pierced the air.
Sam looked at the footman. "The child has arrived."
"Only minutes ago, sir. The household is in chaos. If you'll wait in the drawing room"-the footman indicated an open doorway to the left-"I'll find Miss Alex."
"Don't impose on her if she's busy. I'm not in a hurry."
"Very good, sir. I'll have tea brought in to you."
"That won't be necessary."
" Brandy, perhaps? "
Sam smiled. "Excellent." He waved the man away. "I can find my way in." He could see the staff was in disarray. No butler was in evidence. As he walked into the sunny drawing room, he felt oddly pleased that the child had arrived in apparently good health. A kind of rare happiness overcame him, as though he were somehow involved in the joyful events of the day. A more cynical person might credit his happiness to Miss Ionides's imminent arrival. Not of an introspective nature, however, the viscount felt only unalloyed pleasure.
[7] In the early Victorian era,
Society looked askance at the nouveaux riches or arrivistes, although in the end, new money talked. When H. G. Well's fictional uncle, Edward Ponderevo, exchanged his chemist's shop for a lordship, he found the local vicar a useful bridge into country society.