“Some people might think so, but I think it’s perfectly acceptable for young ladies to climb trees, especially in the privacy of their own garden,” she said firmly.
“Or a friend’s garden,” Lord Tarrant prompted.
“Or a friend’s garden,” she agreed.
“And it’s not hydenish?” Lina breathed.
“It’s not in the least hoydenish,” Alice said. “In fact, when I was your age, I spent many happy hours sitting in the apple tree at home. Of course, if I’d thrown apples at anyone, that would have been hoydenish. Naturally, I didn’t do any such thing.”
Lina nodded solemnly. “No, because you’re a lady—Lady Charlton.”
Alice regarded her thoughtfully. “No, Lina, the ‘Lady’ in my name is just a title, like Miss or Mrs. Any girl, no matter what her background, can become a lady—it’s all in how you behave and how you treat others. Of course, a lady should consider the feelings of others, but otherwise she can do whatever she wants, as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else.”
Lina regarded her with wide, solemn eyes, absorbing that. Alice glanced up at the girls in the tree and saw that Lucy had also received the message. Good.
“And is it only young girls who can climb trees, Lady Charlton?” Lord Tarrant asked smoothly, his eyes dancing. It was a dare, plain and simple.
Alice had no desire whatsoever to climb a tree. It had been years since she’d even tried, and even as a young girl, she didn’t often do it. One could tear one’s clothes for a start, and new clothes weren’t easily come by at the vicarage.
On the other hand, there was this tall, handsome devil with a look in his eyes that made her itch to take up his unspoken challenge. And a tear-stained little girl looking to her for reassurance, with an expression that almost broke Alice’s heart.
All her life, Alice had strived to please others and do what she was told was “the right thing.” And where had it gotten her? Endlessly trying to please others, and finding it a thankless task. Did she really want to set this earnest little girl on the same path?
She made up her mind. “Turn your back,” she told Lord Tarrant.
He promptly did a military-style about-face that made Lina, still in his arms, giggle. The little girl squirmed around and watched Alice over his shoulder.
Luckily the tree was an old one, and unlike most of the plane trees in London’s streets and parks, it had never been pruned or pollarded. The trunk was broad and lumpy with handholds and branches sticking out. The larger branches began about three feet off the ground.
Alice carefully gathered the skirts of her dress, thanking the impulse that had caused her to wear an old dress she didn’t particularly care for. She rolled the skirt and petticoat up and tucked them into the waist of her drawers.
She eyed the tree cautiously. It was going to be a bit of a scramble. Four pairs of eyes—five if you counted the cat—watched her eagerly. Why had she ever agreed to do this mad thing?
“Need a hand?” a tall devil with his back to her murmured.
“Not in the least.” She took a deep breath and started with a jump, to reach the first branch she judged strong enough to support her. It was so thick, it was hard to hold on to. As she stretched up, she heard a ripping sound. A cool breeze under her arm told her she’d ripped a seam in her spencer. Too bad. She wasn’t going to stop now. It was an old spencer, and seams could be resewn.
Scrabbling with her feet to gain purchase on the lumpiest part of the trunk, she tried to swing her leg up to hook it over the first big branch. Once, twice . . . she almost managed it, then suddenly a large warm hand placed itself on her bottom and shoved—Alice squeaked with indignation—and there she was, sitting on the branch.
She glared down at him, her cheeks on fire, and not just from the effort of climbing. Her whole body was hot and flustered. Even her bottom was blushing—she could feel it. “You, you—”
“Helped, yes, I know.” He was grinning. “It’s not against the rules, is it?”
It was very much against the rules of gentlemanly behavior—watching her climb in her drawers when she’d told him to turn his back. As for putting his hand on her bottom! Her almost-naked bottom! She could still feel the warm imprint of it on her skin.
She so wanted to ring a peal over his head, but she couldn’t do it in front of his daughters—and he knew it, the rogue.
“Can you go on from there by yourself?” he asked with a solicitude that didn’t fool her for a moment. His eyes gave him away every time. He was enjoying this.
She stood and scrambled up to the next branch, pulling and heaving. Riiip! The second sleeve of her spencer went. Ladies’ clothing was not designed for energetic activities like climbing trees. Or even raising their arms.
The girls above called encouragement and advice, and slowly Alice climbed until, panting but triumphant, she finally seated herself on a broad, thick branch well above Lord Tarrant’s head. He looked up, grinning. She wished she had an apple to throw at him. But by her own account that would be hoydenish.
It might be fun to be a hoyden. All her life she’d been so well behaved. How dull. But it was another of those possibilities that now stretched temptingly before her.
She looked across and found Lucy and Judy grinning at her. Debo’s whole attention was on the rather martyred-looking ginger cat clutched firmly in her arms.
Down below, Lord Tarrant was lifting Lina up to the first branch. “Go on now, Lina, up to Lady Charlton with you.”
The little girl scrambled up the tree far quicker and with less effort than Alice had. She plonked herself down on Alice’s branch and smiled shyly up at her. “We’re two ladies in a tree,” Lina said excitedly.
Alice shook her head. “No.” She indicated the others above them. “We’re five ladies in a tree.”
“Anacat,” said Debo.
“And a cat,” Alice agreed.
“Actually,” said a deep voice very close below her, “we’re five ladies, a cat and a gentleman in a tree.” He pulled himself effortlessly onto the same broad branch and, over his daughter’s head, grinned at Alice like the veriest urchin. “How long since you climbed a tree, Lady Charlton?”
“Years.” She eyed his long legs, enclosed and protected by supple buckskin breeches. “Ladies’ clothing is not conducive to tree climbing.”
He glanced at the ripped seams of her sleeves. She was immediately aware of his gaze. “So I see. Perhaps I should get breeches made for the girls.”
Between them, Lina gasped. “Girls can wear breeches?”
“Only in private,” Alice said hastily. “And when there are no gentlemen around.”