"It's about time," her mother hissed as Alex slipped into the seat beside her.
"I'm sorry. I overslept."
Her mother's examining gaze swept her. "Overslept indeed," she said, tight-lipped. "I can still smell his cologne."
Already flushed from hurrying to dress and reach the school, Alex turned a deeper shade of red and quickly looked away, directing her attention to the stage. She tried to concentrate on the youngest children, who were lined up in two wobbly rows, singing. The sight of their scrubbed, cherubic faces brought an instant smile to her lips, and her mother's displeasure took second place in her thoughts. Before long she was humming along to the familiar tune.
As she watched the various classes perform, each child as familiar to her as any of those in her family, she realized how much the school meant to her, how her interest went well beyond charity. These wonderful children had come to fill a void in her life, brought her joy… gave her life meaning.
As a child of her own would.
She caught her breath at the astonishing thought. Did she truly want a child, or was this sudden perception predicated more on her reaction to the birth of Tina's baby? Or did her powerful new feelings for Sam prompt this shocking notion? Whatever the reason, it was impossible, of course. As impossible as were such wistful yearnings in relation to Sam Lennox, she firmly reminded herself. Turning her attention back to the stage, she listened to the children's clear, bright voices, their song one of joy and thanksgiving. How much she had to be thankful for herself, she realized, mindful of the great bounty in her life.
Even if she had no children of her own.
She'd been sensible to insist on this small hiatus, she decided. Two days without Sam was exactly what she needed to regain her equanimity.
After the program was over, in an effort to repress any further ill-starred fantasies, she threw herself into the reception as though she were personally responsible for everyone's good cheer. She spoke to each child and teacher, helped ladle out the punch, handed out cookies and sandwiches, gave a short speech before the prizes were awarded, and flitted from group to group with a nervous energy that didn't go unnoticed.
In search of normalcy, feeling the need to escape her thoughts, she immersed herself in the full gamut of activities.
Her mother remarked on her restlessness as they left the building. "I'm not sure you're required to bring happiness to every last person in that school. You looked positively giddy today."
"I like to make people happy. Is that a crime?" Alex's tone was defensive. "And if you don't mind, Mother, I'm not in the mood for chastisement."
Mrs. Ionides surveyed her daughter. "Did the viscount put you in poor humor?"
"No, Mother, he didn't. If you want to ask me something, just ask it. There's no need to beat about the bush."
The two women stood at the curb before their waiting carriages.
"He'll never take you home to meet his family." [8]
Her mother's remark struck a nerve regardless of the fact that Alex had no wish to meet Sam's parents. "It's not a problem for me," she said.
"They look down on families like ours."
"I understand; it's their loss. But you don't want to meet Ranelagh either, so you're hardly one to take offense."
"I never said that."
Alex softly exhaled. "If not precisely in those words, you've insinuated as much in every nuance of our conversations since I met him. Or would you like me to bring him to dinner?"
Her mother opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again.
"There, you see."
"Your father wouldn't allow it."
"Should I ask him?"
"He's very busy right now," Euterpe replied stiffly.
Alex smiled faintly. "Don't worry, Mother, I won't be bringing Sam to dinner. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some work to do."
"With him, I suppose."
"No, alone. Does that make you happy?"
"If you married Constantine and gave me grandchildren, I'd be happy."
"How about just the grandchildren without the marriage?" Alex offered lightly. "How would that be?"
"How dare you even suggest such a thing! Your father will hear of this, young lady… such absolute foolishness! I'm going to pretend you never said anything so outrageous. I told your father his leniency toward you would-"
Her mother was still sputtering when Alex stepped into her carriage.
Alex went directly home, fatigued after her sleepless night, weary in spirit as well-totally unsure of what had been until yesterday clear and unequivocal goals in her life.
The moment she closed the front door, she began undressing, leaving a trail of clothing behind in her passage to her bedroom. When she reached her bed, she dropped onto the mattress in a sprawl, pulled a cover over her, and within seconds was fast asleep.
In the days since she'd met Ranelagh, she'd barely slept, and while he may have been accustomed to a schedule of continuous sex, she was not.
<a l:href="#_ftnref8">[8]</a> By the late Victorian period, the process of assimilation-the marriage of land and capital, gentry and haute bourgeoisie-was clear for all to see and new money was calling the shots. "Nowadays," observed the Countess of Cardigan, "money shouts and birth and breeding whisper!"But of the three props that supported the ruling elite-money, land, and title-it was the possession of a hereditary peerage that was the clearest determinant of class and the most obvious focus of ambition. In the mid-Victorian period, the House of Lords remained a difficult hurdle for new money. Not until the 1880s did both Liberal and Tory governments surrender their patronage to the market. By 1890 the proportion of business and commercial families achieving peerages was twenty-five percent and rising. Between 1886 and 1914 about two hundred new peers were created, at least half from nonlanded backgrounds.This rise of the bourgeoisie to titled status did not occur without resistance. Many of those in power were offended by "the rustle of banknotes," and native English gentry took affront that social control of London "is now divided between the Semite and the Yankee." Anti-Semitism ran high, as did mockery of the "trans-Atlantic Midases," referred to as peltry or pork kings. But by 1899, the peerage included fifty American ladies; by 1914 seventeen percent of the peerage and twelve percent of the baronetcy had an American connection, frequently through marriage to an heiress. "Failing the dowries of Israel and the plums of the United States," noted Escott with realism, "the British peerage would go to pieces tomorrow."I became aware of the disdain directed toward American heiresses not only in the memoirs of numerous heiresses who had been treated abominably by their husbands' families, but in particular while touring the Duke of Roxburghe's family seat in Kelso, Scotland, when I was researching Outlaw. In 1902, May Goelet of New York, co-heir to a twenty-five-million-dollar fortune, noted that Captain George Holford had hopes of marrying her: "Dorchester House, of course, would be delightful and I believe he has two charming places [Westonbirt and Lasborough, Gloucestershire]. Unfortunately, the dear man has no title…" She settled for the Duke of Roxburghe. And apparently he settled for her as well, because in the Roxburghe palatial home in Kelso, as we walked through room after room adorned with priceless antiques, exquisite furniture, carpets, and beautiful paintings, we eventually came to a kitchen hallway, where a collection of fishing gear was displayed on the walls-along with the full-length portrait of the American duchess. Her rating in the hierarchy of the Roxburghe family was eminently clear.