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Authors: Evelyn Richardson
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corner with the town tabbies."
"I know. Mama, I know." His sigh was the sigh of a man who had taken part in this particular discussion times out of mind. "But you also were not meant to play the fool. Lord Grainger is half your age if he is a day."
"And people say that I look half my age, so there you have it, perfectly unexceptionable," his mother concluded brightly. Then, a sly sparkle in her eyes, she continued, "However, if you were to escort me to these affairs, for example to Lady Derwent's rout, why then I should be able to attend it without requiring Lord Grainger's escort. Not even those who are 68
Lady Alex's Gamble
by Evelyn Richardson
most jealous of my youthful appearance—and I must say there are more than a few—could make the least comment, except, of course, that you look far too old to be my son." She leaned over to stroke her son's bronzed cheek. "Of course, it is all the fault of this silly war which you feel you must fight. It has aged you, you know, and if I do say so, I think it excessively selfish of you to leave your mother at home with nothing to do but fret and worry about you." Lord Wrotham snorted. In truth, his mother's unblemished countenance had far fewer lines than his swarthy one. Years in the hot sun of the Peninsula living in primitive quarters had hardened him into a battle-weary veteran who stood out conspicuously among the rest of his peers, who had whiled away the past few years in the clubs and drawing rooms of London with nothing more upsetting to consider than the cut of their coats or the loss of a few pounds at the gaming table.
"Please, Christopher," the countess begged, "you so rarely go to these things, and once we are there I shall not lack for partners, so you have no need to dance attendance on me. Besides, the Carstairs will be there and I do so want you to meet their eldest daughter, Lavinia. She has become all the rage this Season, though I cannot imagine how someone as ordinary-looking as Amelia Carstairs could produce an incomparable."
A gleam of understanding lit up her son's dark blue eyes. Lord Wrotham smiled grimly. Now it all became clear. His mother, ordinarily the most flighty of mortals, could become exceedingly single-minded when pursuing her own particular interests. Unable on her own to stop her only son from 69
Lady Alex's Gamble
by Evelyn Richardson
deserting her by playing on his sympathies for her helpless widowhood, she was now trying to entice him with the attractions of another of her sex. She must be getting desperate, he thought cynically to himself, if she was willing to relinquish to another female what little attention she was able to demand from him. Heretofore, even the slightest references she made to other women had been, if not derogatory, then certainly not complimentary, for in his mother's opinion, no other woman of any age could ever be as fascinating as herself. That she could even suggest her son might acknowledge the presence of another woman spoke volumes.
Until now it had never occurred to the Countess of Claverdon that anyone else could be of the least interest to her son. Supremely selfish and possessed of a delicate, fragile beauty that belied an indomitable will where her own wishes were concerned, she had taken her son's devotion to her as her due from the moment he had been born. Not content with reducing Christopher's father to abject slavery as he rushed to fulfill her every whim, she soon discovered that his son was equally susceptible to her smiles and her tears—until, that was. Lord Wrotham had been so disobliging as to break his neck on the hunting field and deprive her of her most constant source of masculine attention. Unable to support life without an ever-present adoring male, she had remarried, becoming Countess of Claverdon within the minimum amount of time that it was respectable to do so, and disabusing her son of the notion that his father—or any other man—meant 70
Lady Alex's Gamble
by Evelyn
"I know. Mama, I know." His sigh was the sigh of a man who had taken part in this particular discussion times out of mind. "But you also were not meant to play the fool. Lord Grainger is half your age if he is a day."
"And people say that I look half my age, so there you have it, perfectly unexceptionable," his mother concluded brightly. Then, a sly sparkle in her eyes, she continued, "However, if you were to escort me to these affairs, for example to Lady Derwent's rout, why then I should be able to attend it without requiring Lord Grainger's escort. Not even those who are 68
Lady Alex's Gamble
by Evelyn Richardson
most jealous of my youthful appearance—and I must say there are more than a few—could make the least comment, except, of course, that you look far too old to be my son." She leaned over to stroke her son's bronzed cheek. "Of course, it is all the fault of this silly war which you feel you must fight. It has aged you, you know, and if I do say so, I think it excessively selfish of you to leave your mother at home with nothing to do but fret and worry about you." Lord Wrotham snorted. In truth, his mother's unblemished countenance had far fewer lines than his swarthy one. Years in the hot sun of the Peninsula living in primitive quarters had hardened him into a battle-weary veteran who stood out conspicuously among the rest of his peers, who had whiled away the past few years in the clubs and drawing rooms of London with nothing more upsetting to consider than the cut of their coats or the loss of a few pounds at the gaming table.
"Please, Christopher," the countess begged, "you so rarely go to these things, and once we are there I shall not lack for partners, so you have no need to dance attendance on me. Besides, the Carstairs will be there and I do so want you to meet their eldest daughter, Lavinia. She has become all the rage this Season, though I cannot imagine how someone as ordinary-looking as Amelia Carstairs could produce an incomparable."
A gleam of understanding lit up her son's dark blue eyes. Lord Wrotham smiled grimly. Now it all became clear. His mother, ordinarily the most flighty of mortals, could become exceedingly single-minded when pursuing her own particular interests. Unable on her own to stop her only son from 69
Lady Alex's Gamble
by Evelyn Richardson
deserting her by playing on his sympathies for her helpless widowhood, she was now trying to entice him with the attractions of another of her sex. She must be getting desperate, he thought cynically to himself, if she was willing to relinquish to another female what little attention she was able to demand from him. Heretofore, even the slightest references she made to other women had been, if not derogatory, then certainly not complimentary, for in his mother's opinion, no other woman of any age could ever be as fascinating as herself. That she could even suggest her son might acknowledge the presence of another woman spoke volumes.
Until now it had never occurred to the Countess of Claverdon that anyone else could be of the least interest to her son. Supremely selfish and possessed of a delicate, fragile beauty that belied an indomitable will where her own wishes were concerned, she had taken her son's devotion to her as her due from the moment he had been born. Not content with reducing Christopher's father to abject slavery as he rushed to fulfill her every whim, she soon discovered that his son was equally susceptible to her smiles and her tears—until, that was. Lord Wrotham had been so disobliging as to break his neck on the hunting field and deprive her of her most constant source of masculine attention. Unable to support life without an ever-present adoring male, she had remarried, becoming Countess of Claverdon within the minimum amount of time that it was respectable to do so, and disabusing her son of the notion that his father—or any other man—meant 70
Lady Alex's Gamble
by Evelyn
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