When Gwyneth turned the corner into Sutton Row and saw the
curricle stationed right outside her front door, there was
no sense of foreboding, no premonition that Jason Radley
was about to enter her life again. This was just another
ordinary day. She'd spent the morning at the Ladies'
Library in Soho Square, where she worked three mornings a
week, and she'd stopped off on the way home to buy a loaf
of bread. She was late and was hurrying home so that she
could share the midday meal with her young son before her
first piano student of the day arrived.
Then she saw the curricle.
There was no alarm on Gwyn's part, only the fervent hope
that the father of one of her pupils had come to settle
his account. When she approached the curricle, however,
and observed the groom standing by the horses' heads, she
frowned. He was dressed in a maroon frock coat with silver
frogging on the epaulets and turned-back cuffs.
The Radley livery. She'd know it anywhere.
As her heart picked up speed, her steps slowed. She wasn't
ready for this; she would never be ready for this. As soon
as the thought occurred to her, she became impatient with
herself. She'd known when she'd come to live in London
that there was every chance she and Jason would cross
paths. It had happened sooner rather than later, that was
all.
Her heart was beating fast when she entered the house. It
was a modest two-storey, and the front parlor also served
as the music room. Because her home was also her place of
business, she'd taken care to create a good impression on
the ground floor. The entrance hall and front parlor were
furnished with her best pieces and the only carpet she
possessed. The restof the house was Spartan -- bare
floorboards and odds and ends that served their purpose.
There were no extras. She couldn't afford extras.
Her maid, Maddie, came out of the kitchen when she heard
the front door open and close. She took the loaf of bread
from Gwyn and helped her with her coat. Maddie was no more
than fifteen, as neat as a new pin, good-natured and
capable. She wasn't a live-in maid, but shared her
services with Gwyn and an elderly lady who lived around
the corner in Soho Square. Gwyn couldn't afford a live-in
maid.
Maddie's eyes were avid with curiosity. She spoke in a
whisper. "There's ever so fine a gent waiting to see you,
Mrs. Barrie. A Mr. Radley. He said he was your cousin. I
showed him into the parlor. I hope I done right."
Gwyn refrained from pointing out that there was nowhere
else in that small house for anyone to wait. "You did
fine, Maddie," she said, and gave herself a quick glance
in the looking glass above the hall table.
Her auburn hair had been flattened by her bonnet. She was
on the point of fluffing it up, then thought better of it.
It didn't matter what kind of impression she made on Jason
Radley.
If only her heart would stop racing.
"You looks real nice," said Maddie. Her bright eyes took
in the high-waisted dove-gray twill gown with its white
lacy collar and long sleeves. "Real quality, if you wants
my opinion."
A maid would never have been allowed such familiarity in
any other household, but Gwyn and Maddie were not mistress
and maid in the usual sense. They shared the work of the
house equally and ate their meals together. When Gwyn was
away from home, Maddie looked after Mark. It was Maddie,
far more than Gwyn, who kept a respectful distance in the
relationship. Despite her lack of years, Maddie understood
the necessity of keeping up appearances, especially in
front of the rich city merchants and professional men
whose daughters came to the house for piano lessons. To
her knowledge, this was the first time that Gwyn had ever
been visited by a member of her family. But Maddie saw the
pulse beating at Gwyn's throat, and her imagination took
flight.
"Where's Mark?" asked Gwyn, despising the breathlessness
in her voice.
"He's with Mr. Radley. Go on then, in you goes."
Maddie opened the parlor door and the moment could not be
avoided. Gwyn took a few paces into the room and halted.
Jason and Mark were on their knees at the small table in
front of the fire, demolishing a plate of scones and
sharing a pot of tea.
Jason saw her first and rose in one lithe movement, then
Mark jumped up and quickly went to her. She concentrated
on Mark.
"Mama, Cousin Jason is here. He's family, Mama. He found
out where we were living and came to visit us. I didn't
know we had any cousins."
This telling little speech brought faint color to Gwyn's
cheeks. Her son didn't notice. "And Cousin Jason says I
can drive around the square in his curricle, after he's
talked to you. May I, Mama? May I?"
Such rare treats were not to be scorned, even though she
didn't want Jason Radley anywhere near her son. She gazed
into Mark's eager face, a face that was so like her own:
gray eyes, flashing dimples, and a pointed chin.
Her own dimples flashed a reply. "I don't see why not. Did
you finish the lessons I set you this morning?"
Mark nodded.
"Then go tidy up and help Maddie in the kitchen. When
we're ready, I'll call you."
Mark let out a long breath. The eyes he turned on Jason
were glowing. "Oh, I do thank you, sir," he said, and
quickly left them.
They could hear him calling for Maddie as he ran to the
back of the house. Gwyn quietly closed the door. There was
no avoiding it now. She had to look at Jason.
Tall, dark, and handsome didn't do him justice. He was
remarkably good-looking in a rugged sort of way, with
vivid green eyes and a physique that an athlete might have
envied. He was her cousin, twice removed, and the last
time she'd spoken to him was eight years ago.
Copyright 2001 by Elizabeth Thornton