An Unconventional Duenna

“If the others would not consider it impolite, I would like to invite you to take a short turn in my library. I have a rare edition there of Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy, of which we spoke last night and which you might like to inspect.”

Adrian, overhearing this, said benevolently, “By all means, sir. Take Nick to the library. Grubbing among the books will restore his high spirits.”

Nick said slowly, “If our hostess agrees…”

Mrs Tenison rapidly interrupted him. “By all means, Mr Tenison. We must keep our guests happy.”

She was delighted to learn that she and Emma—and Filmer, of course, but she didn’t count—were to be left alone with Adrian. She was even more delighted when Nick, the spirit of mischief moving in him, added, “On one condition, sir: that Miss Filmer accompanies us. I gather from something you said last night that she is something of a bookworm, too.”

Now, what’s his little game, thought Athene inelegantly, and furiously. Oh yes, I have it, he’s moving me from Adrian’s orbit so that he is compelled to concentrate on Emma, and not me.

There was no way, however, in which she could refuse such an offer, which was enthusiastically seconded by Mr Tenison who thought—wrongly—that it would be a great opportunity for Athene not to have to join in the vapid conversation which would surely follow when the only persons of sense were removed from the room.

Nick, a subtle smile on his face, held out his arm to what he knew was the reluctant Athene, who was compelled to present a smiling face to the world at being singled out for such an honour. He knew that on the way home Adrian would roast him mightily for removing Athene from a place where he could see and worship her from afar. After all, had she not virtually approved of his decision to race to Brighton when everyone else had been so dashed dispiriting over the matter?

Adrian would like to bet that if ladies were encouraged to race curricles Athene would be a splendid performer. The image of her urging her team on entranced him so much that he barely heard what the two Tenison women were saying to him. Or rather, Mrs Tenison, for Emma merely sat there, silently worshipping his handsome presence much as he had been worshipping Athene’s.

Athene, meanwhile, was listening to Nick and Mr Tenison talk about Burton, whose book she had not yet read although Mr Tenison had recommended it to her. He had fetched it from its shelf and laid it on the big map table which stood in front of the window for Nick to inspect it.

After a short—and enthusiastic—examination of it, while Athene stood by, Nick said, “I fear that we may be boring Miss Filmer.”

Athene returned, a trifle sharply, “Not at all. I find it most interesting to listen to Mr Tenison—he offers me an education which I would not otherwise have achieved.”

Mr Tenison smiled at this and murmured, “You see, sir, she is truly named Athene, and like the great Pallas herself no one could call her a bluestocking.”

“No, indeed,” agreed Nick. “Miss Filmer is neither plain nor noisy—a very model of rectitude.”

Athene could have hit him. She now knew him well enough to know that he was roasting her. Mr Tenison was taking Nick’s words at face value, and nodding vigorous agreement.

He removed the copy of Burton, reached down to a low shelf on which stood a run of giant folios, and lifted out one which he laid reverently on the table before opening it and saying to the pair of them, “I’m sure that you would find this splendid volume of great interest. It contains the most wonderful engravings of all the Greek gods, including Athene who is pictured here with her owl.”

That owl again! For the first time Nick and Athene exchanged a smile at its reappearance. The smile’s effect on them both was electric. Nick’s harsh face, which Athene had always thought of as sour, was strangely softened when the light of humour danced in his eyes. Its sternness disappeared, and his attraction grew as his smile widened. Athene’s face, too, changed. The touch of hauteur, which was the consequence of her feeling that she needed to defend herself in the face of a cruel and critical world, disappeared from it.

Each recognised in the other a similar understanding of the true nature of that world, and each of them was disconcerted to discover that the other possessed it, too. To cover their confusion both of them put forward a hand at the same time to point out something which interested them in the portrayal of the goddess—and their hands met.

The effect of this simple touch, coming as it did on the heels of the smile, surprised them both, since neither of them had experienced anything similar when they had danced together at the Leominsters’ ball. It was as though a fire ran through them. For a moment they were locked together in a universe where only the other existed.

Mr Tenison, unaware of their strange epiphany, or moment of understanding, continued to speak, taking his hearers’ silence for an appreciation of what he was showing them. Athene was the first to recover from the odd bodily sensations which touching Nick had induced. She wrenched her hand away and began to rub it, wondering why in the world she had responded in this strange manner to someone whom she disliked and who plainly disliked her.

Nick was in no doubt as to what had happened. Good God! Of all wretched things! He had fallen in lust with the siren who was chasing after his cousin! He was self-knowing enough to ask whether that was why he resented her so much—that he was jealous because he was not the object of her pursuit. No matter. He sternly told his unruly body to behave itself, for once he had had this dreadful thought arousal had not been long to follow.

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