Cousins of a Kind

by Sheila Walsh

  With the shedding of the dress, Theo resolved to put all that had happened out of her mind.

  ‘I promised the Duchess most faithfully that I wouldn’t be late,’ she said as Maddie fastened her into a gown of peach-bloom crepe with, tiny ivory flowers scattered across the brief bodice. ‘She has set so much store by this evening, and in the circumstances I must do all I can to please her!’

  This last meant little to the maid, but she reckoned that if looking well was anything to go by, she’d never seen Miss Theo look better, a sentiment echoed by Monsieur Henri, the Duchess’s hairdresser, who proclaimed with great enthusiasm that the delicate hue of mademoiselle’s gown was ravissant ‒ and set off her beautiful hair to perfection.

  Peach satin slippers and a pair of pretty ivory gloves strewn with peach flowers completed an elegant toilet which made the young American much admired at Almack’s that evening. It seemed to those who knew her that Miss Radlett sparkled as never before. She certainly made a determined effort to be at her best, and the knowledge that one or two unkind comments were circulating about what were being termed her ‘colonial manners’ only served to put her even more on her mettle.

  ‘If only you are not censured by those who matter, my love,’ whispered her grace. ‘We can, of course, count on dear Lady Sefton for support, and I believe I can convince Lady Jersey that it is no more than spiteful tittle-tattle. Thank goodness Mrs Drummond-Burrell is not here tonight … she is a very high stickler indeed! Ah, see …’ She let her breath go on a little sigh of relief. ‘Here is Lord Alverton arrived … and he has eyes for no one but you, so I believe we may be easy.’

  Lord Alverton was indeed so smitten that he could think nothing Miss Radlett might do worthy of censure. When his mama had ventured in the most amiable way to remark on her occasional free and easy ways, he had pokered up at once and declared that it was her very lack of pretension which he found most engaging.

  For once Theo was really pleased to see him, and she treated him with a degree of partiality that, had she but known it, gave him increasing cause to hope. But he had to compete with many other gentlemen who wished to know her better, and when, half-way through the evening the Countess Lieven condescended to smile on her, the Duchess pronounced the evening to be an unqualified success.

  Theo was glad for her sake that all had gone as her grace wished, though for her part she found Almack’s a sad let-down. The rooms were spacious enough, but the refreshments were meagre and lacking in variety ‒ nothing so far as she could see but bread and butter and cake, to be taken with tea or lemonade ‒ and so many restrictions governed what one might or might not do that she quite failed to understand why so much store was set by being there.

  However, she was wise enough not to voice her opinion, asserting instead with conviction that she had enjoyed herself prodigiously. And if her glance had strayed to the door every time a tall figure dressed in the obligatory knee-breeches decreed by the patronesses of Almack’s entered, she was quick to convince herself that she was heartily relieved that Benedict had not seen fit to put in an appearance.

  Over the next few days there were sufficient callers to make her cousin’s non-appearance pass for the most part unnoticed. Theo was in the highest spirits, with Lord Alverton in regular attendance, and on the occasions when she and Benedict did meet, he behaved with a kind of casual mocking politeness that was not so far removed from his usual way as to occasion comment.

  For her part, she strove to emulate him in the casual acceptance of his approach. She knew that the Duchess looked at them strangely once or twice, but since Theo did not appear to be in the least cast down, she refrained from comment.

  She could not know the thoughts that teemed through her young protégée’s mind and heart ‒ the sensation of loss that persisted and would not be quenched. Theo did not herself understand how it was possible to miss someone when he was quite often there at one’s side, but that was how she often felt now.

  She missed being able to share with him her appreciation of the ridiculous ‒ there was no one else she knew of in the whole of London to whom she could confide those moments of pomposity, of pretension, of sheer absurdity which they had both enjoyed so much.

  But it was evident that Benedict suffered no such pangs. When they attended the same function, as frequently happened, he was never without a beautiful companion on his arm, and though he seemed to favour no particular one, they all quite clearly doted on him.

  And so things continued until the night of the midsummer masquerade at Richmond. This event, arranged by friends of Lord and Lady Shadley, had for some time been the subject of much excited discussion and preparation, especially among the younger members of society.

  The masquerade was to begin at dusk and continue until dawn, and the road between London and Richmond was choked with traffic from early on in the evening of Midsummer’s Eve. Owing to a mishap involving one of the wheels of the Shadleys’ coach, their party was late setting out. The sun had gone and only a few faint streaks of pink still lingered across the clear washed sky, but the air was yet warm from the heat of the day and a feeling of eager anticipation prevailed.

  The coach itself contained Lord and Lady Shadley, the young and very excited Lady Clarissa, and the Duchess of Bury, while Theo and Lord Alverton drove on ahead in his lordship’s phaeton.

  Theo had mixed feelings about the arrangement, for although it was very pleasant to be driving in the open air instead of in a stuffy coach, Lord Alverton had given her such warm looks as he had handed her into his phaeton that she was almost convinced that he was on the verge of a proposal.

  It irked her even more to know that the fault was, in part at least, her own, for she had been so eager to demonstrate to Benedict how little she cared what he thought of her that she had encouraged Lord Alverton quite shamelessly, and must now do her best to fend him off.

  It was already dusk by the time the party came within a mile or so of their destination, with the phaeton by now well out in front along the winding road, so that to Theo, looking back, the lights of the coach appeared and disappeared among the trees with a curious air of unreality.

  ‘Have I told you, dear Miss Radlett, how beautiful you are looking tonight?’ said Lord Alverton in a rushed, oddly stifled voice.

  ‘Yes, sir ‒ you have, several times.’ Theo endeavoured to keep her voice light. ‘It is very kind of you to be so complimentary. I was afraid that all these flowers and draperies might be a little much.’

  ‘Never!’ he declared vehemently, stealing a quick impassioned look at her. ‘Persephone ‒ sweet harbinger of spring ‒ it is you to the life, my dear!’

  She was about to point out in some desperation that Persephone spent much of the year in Hades, when sounds of an altercation came from behind them.

  ‘Oh, do stop, Lord Alverton!’ she cried. ‘Something is wrong, I know it!’

  He pulled up at once and secured the reins to the low branch of a tree. ‘You had best stay here,’ he cried, leaping down.

  ‘No, no! I must see what has happened!’

  They turned the corner in time to see three masked figures on horseback ranged about the Shadleys’ coach, with one felon in the act of thrusting his pistol in through the window that had been let down against the warmth of the evening.

  ‘Devil take it!’ raged Lord Alverton. ‘I don’t have a weapon! Miss Radlett, for God’s sake, retreat, I beg of you!’

  The highwayman nearest to them heard what he said, and his attention was momentarily distracted. Then several things seemed to happen at once. The sound of his sister’s screams reacted powerfully upon his lordship, and without further thought he rushed forward; at the same moment another carriage could be heard approaching, coming quite fast from the London direction, and the ruffians, in danger of being attacked from both directions at once, panicked. One of the two holding the coachman at bay shouted to the third to abandon his work and run for cover, and without waiting to see if he had heeded the wa
rning, turned tail and made off while his companion still hovered uncertainly. In the general confusion a volley of shots rang out as the coachman, seizing his opportunity, reached under the seat for his spare pistol and loosed both barrels, while the new arrival also fired on the fleeing men, hitting one of them.

  Theo, pressed tightly against a tree as they crashed past, saw that the man bringing up the rear was clutching at his shoulder; in all the confusion his mask had slipped, and for one split second of time she was transfixed ‒ staring into Aubrey’s terror-twisted face. Before she could move or speak, he was gone, and she was running towards the coach.

  Lord Alverton was already helping the ladies down, assisted by a familiar tall figure.

  ‘Good God! Benedict!’ she exclaimed faintly. ‘Is it really you?’

  ‘And in the nick of time, sir!’ declared Lord Shadley, who emerged from the coach at that moment, supporting his prostrate daughter. Benedict relieved him of his burden until he was safely down the steps, before turning to Theo.

  ‘Are you all right?’ His voice sounded abrupt, almost as though he were angry with her, but she was too preoccupied to wonder why this should be.

  Alverton was quietly comforting his sister, whose sobs were gradually subsiding, while Lord Shadley, having reassured himself that his family and the Duchess were suffering from no more than shock, was counting the cost of the hold-up, and giving vent to his spleen.

  ‘I’ll see to it that the devils are strung up if we can only run them to earth!’ he spluttered. ‘Ye winged one of ’em, Radlett ‒ so it’s likely we’ll have him at least!’

  Theo’s heart lurched with fear. She must get Benedict alone. But for now there was the Duchess to be reassured … she had suffered the loss of a sapphire necklace and bracelet, but after the initial shock, had proved surprisingly resilient and declared that she was quite ready to drive on.

  Lady Shadley too had lost a necklace. She was less sanguine than her friend, but Benedict pointed out calmly that the sooner they completed their journey, the sooner might they all rest and recover.

  ‘Very true,’ grunted Lord Shadley. ‘I’m much indebted to you, sir ‒ I shan’t forget it.’

  Benedict disclaimed any credit other than that of being in the right place at the right time.

  It was while they were all busy reassembling that Theo seized her chance to draw Benedict aside and confide in him.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he said, swearing softly.

  She drew a shuddering uneven breath. ‘Yes, of course I’m sure! It was Aubrey. Oh, Benedict ‒ what are we going to do?’

  He shrugged. ‘There’s little we can do.’

  ‘How can you be so callous!’ she whispered, her eyes flashing angrily in the darkness. ‘You heard Lord Shadley …’ Her voice faltered for an instant. ‘… what he intends shall be their fate! Would you let that happen to Aubrey?’ And when he didn’t immediately answer: ‘Doesn’t it concern you at all that you are responsible for his injury?’

  He gripped her arm none too gently, and his voice was very low and contained. ‘Stop it, Theo! If you mean am I sorry that I hit Aubrey, then yes ‒ of course I am. But if the boy indulges in dangerous games, he must take the consequences.’

  He fell silent as Lord Alverton came towards them.

  ‘We are ready to continue now, Miss Radlett,’ said his lordship, and then with a rather pointed glance at Benedict, who still held Theo by the arm, ‘My thanks to you, sir. You were remarkably quick off the mark.’

  Benedict stepped back. ‘Not at all, my lord,’ he said politely, his eyes on Theo. ‘It was the purest chance.’

  Chapter Twelve

  By midnight the revelry was in full swing.

  The Elliotts, in whose Palladian mansion the masquerade was being held, had spared no expense in their attempt to outdo all other entertainments in a season of entertainments. The extensive grounds ran down to the river, and hundreds of lanterns illuminated a scene of enchantment. Against a mountainous backdrop of startling reality which incorporated a full-sized rushing waterfall were scattered a number of Chinese pagodas vying with each other for magnificence, and all set beside winding man-made streams crossed every so often by ornate little bridges.

  It was linked by acres of greensward that stretched like dark emerald velvet in the lantern-light, and was cooled by the sound of splashing fountains. There were hothouses carpeted with moss and filled with exotic fruit and flowers, and lush dimly lighted conservatories where delicate ferns drooped their fronds in the warm moist air.

  And everywhere one looked there were people in frivolous mood, all masked and clad in a riotous mixture of historical costumes and flowing dominoes ‒ some romantic, some amusing, but all colourful.

  After a brief rest, the Shadley party ‒ the younger members in particular ‒ were able to put their distressing experience behind them. Indeed they found the magic impossible to resist; even Theo, troubled though she was, found herself being swept along with the rest and was soon enjoying it all immensely.

  So light-hearted did she become that even when Lord Alverton lured her into a pagoda and attempted to propose to her in passionate fashion, she was able to fend him off without giving offence.

  ‘I can’t contemplate marriage to anyone this evening.’ She laughed irrepressibly. ‘Only consider, my lord, how impossible it would be to have a wife who must spend six months of every year in the bowels of the earth with another man!’

  ‘Miss Radlett ‒ Theo ‒ be serious a moment, I beg of you!’ he pleaded, seeking to imprison her hand. But she eluded the trap.

  ‘No, no! This is not a night for being serious! Dance with me instead.’

  Formal dancing was going forward in the ballroom, but for the romantically inclined a small group of musicians had been sited in a corner of the shrubbery, and the novelty of waltzing in the garden under the stars with the moon hanging low like a Chinese paper lantern proved an irresistible attraction for many couples.

  ‘It is just like heaven!’ sighed Lady Clarissa dreamily, as they stood on the terrace looking down.

  Theo laughed indulgently ‒ pleased that the child had recovered from her fright and was able to appreciate the many compliments that had been showered upon her in her pretty shepherdess gown. A young and eager cavalier came to carry Clarissa off for a country dance about to begin in the ballroom, and Theo was left alone.

  But only for a moment. A tall figure in a black domino was at her side, and there was no way that a mask or a flowing cloak could conceal her cousin’s identity. Her heart stirred and skipped a beat.

  ‘This is my waltz, I think,’ he said, imprisoning her hand.

  Perversely she held back. ‘I don’t remember granting you a waltz, sir,’ she returned demurely, quite forgetting their estrangement, how angry she had been with him so short a time ago.

  ‘You didn’t, but you would have done, had the opportunity arisen ‒ which it now has,’ he concluded smoothly.

  A gentle tug on her hand was all the coercion that was needed to draw her down the steps and into his arms. It is the night, she told herself weakly, surrendering her spinning senses to the sweet sensation of being whirled around the garden in his arms while his cloak, billowing about them, seemed to set them apart. Nothing tonight is real … his arm encircling my waist, his hand warm and intimate through the thin silk of my dress and feeling so right! Lord Alverton’s hand didn’t feel at all like that!

  Benedict looked down into her eyes, unreadable behind the flower-trimmed mask, and loosing one hand so that he held her only by the waist, he lifted the offending obstruction carefully over her hair and hung it on his arm.

  ‘That’s much better,’ he murmured, silencing her protests with a kiss, and as she looked up at him, silent now, her eyes dark and slumbrous, his own pulse quickened, his voice grew deep. ‘You look like a nymph ‒ a goddess who has wandered out of those woods yonder.’ He circled her slowly towards the trees until they were in their shadow. ‘And one must salute
a goddess with due reverence …’

  It wasn’t like the last time. Now his mouth was caressing, sweetly probing, persuasively demanding … she was drawn closer until her body was no longer under her control but melted exultantly into his … wanting … needing … she knew not what. A soft moan escaped her as his lips caressed her eyes, trailed down her jawline to explore the pulse beating wildly in her neck ‒ exquisite torture until they returned once more to claim her mouth.

  And then a young lady almost crashed into them as she came shrieking past, wildly pursued by her would-be swain ‒ and the fantasy was pricked like a bubble.

  But still he was slow to release her, and Theo was incapable of accomplishing it alone.

  ‘Oh, goddess!’ His voice was curiously vibrant in her ears as he ceremoniously replaced her mask. ‘This is midsummer madness, indeed! I hope you won’t demand that I apologise ‒ for one should never seek to excuse perfection!’

  She walked back across the moonlit lawns with his hand under her arm, in a complete daze. She had no notion of what she said or did, or when he finally left her, with a mocking bow, in Lord Alverton’s charge. She took supper without knowing what she ate, and, she supposed, conversed with reasonable sense, since her companions appeared to accept her behaviour as normal for the occasion, though the Duchess chided her playfully on her want of appetite.

  ‘But then as a gel I was always wont to toy with my food whenever I was in love!’ she sighed with an arch glance in Alverton’s direction ‒ and when her protégée blushed prettily crimson, she was sure she had hit the mark.

  As soon as she might do so without drawing attention to herself, Theo begged to be excused and escaped to the terrace to calm her teeming emotions. It was blessedly quiet outside, the gardens almost deserted, most people being still at supper, and she was able to wander along the terrace at will, pausing at the far end to lean against the balustrade, her face pressed to one of the cool stone supports.