“He’s not the most desirable man in London to me, dear Francis.” Bella smiled at her husband.
“And I, Mimi. I find myself to be the most fortunate man in London.” Francis smiled back at his wife.
Bella looked at her husband. “Dear heart, I have something private I must discuss with Mimi.”
Needing no encouragement to do his wife’s bidding, Francis nodded to the ladies and stepped back into the drawing room.
“Mimi. You went into the garden three years ago with Richard Warren. You weren’t concerned about your reputation then. It was the night of your birthday.”
“Bella! I was practically a child. And, well I knew Richard. I knew he wouldn’t do anything untoward. It was at my house too. I was secure in the knowledge that it wouldn’t get out among the gossip set. And, well I thought I loved Richard.”
“As I recall, your mother was quite upset about the whole episode. And you were eighteen, were you not? You went to your room without a word to anyone. The party broke up. Your reputation could as easily have been ruined with Richard as it could have with a gentleman of the ton, the Duke in particular.”
“Yes, I suppose you are right, Bella. My mother would have told me to refuse to go outside with the Duke. It’s not something nice girls do. Go off with men. Alone. You know that. Thankfully, you and Francis saved the day. Come. Let us go back into the drawing room. There are many nice gentlemen here tonight. I would that my mother wants me to speak to each and every one.”
They laughed and took each other by the arm. They went back toward the dance floor unaware of the gentleman, in a soldier’s uniform and walking stick, who was standing under the stairs listening to their conversation.
********
Marie had been talking to the other matrons in the room. They sat against a wall drinking ratafia and surveying the dancers. And gossiping.
“However did you get Duke Hertford here, Dolly?” One of the elder ladies asked Mrs Wynne.
“My husband is a card playing enthusiast, as is his grace. They met at White’s through mutual friends, Lady Nichols.”
“Lovely. What a pity you have no female children, Dolly.”
“My boys suit me just fine. However, I should like to see the Duke take an interest in Miss Hancock.”
“Best of luck to you. I saw the Duke escort a young lady out of the drawing room a little while ago. I haven’t seen them come back yet.”
“You say the Duke went outside with a young woman?” Marie had perked up considerably.
“Yes. A beautiful girl, really. Hair as dark as ebony with eyes to match. She looked absolutely ravishing in her rose and gold frock. I’ve never seen her before, though. I can’t imagine who she might be.” Lady Nicholls fanned herself lazily.
“That would be my Mimi,” Marie offered, clearly relieved. “We were in Paris for two years. After my darling husband died. I went back to my home town with my daughter. However, we came back to England a bit over a year ago just before the French army was pushed back into France.”
“I see. Well, the Duke certainly seemed intent on your daughter. At least to take a turn around the garden, maybe. But knowing now who she is, I’m sure she refused him.”
“Of course, she would refuse to be alone with a man. She is an unmarried maid. I wish I could feign surprise that the Duke is struck with her, though. I think Mimi to be the most beautiful woman in attendance,” Marie answered as she scanned the room for the sight of her daughter’s rose and gold gown of soft muslin. Missing also were the Duke’s handsome good looks and finely tailored jacket and pantaloons.
“I understand that you are not surprised, Marie. Your daughter is exceedingly beautiful. I heard some of the other ladies present commenting on her lovely voice and manner,” the older lady concurred. “Oh, and there is the lovely vision herself. Marie, see. She is with Mr and Mrs Bond.”
“Yes, I see. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. And Dolly, I will speak with you before we leave. Thank you, dear.”
“Yes, Marie. Go. Speak to Mimi. Find out what happened.” Dolly winked at Lady Nicholls.
Marie walked off to join her daughter and the Bonds.
“Hello. Hello Bella. My but you’re looking well and happy. I adore this frock you have. Jonquil suits you my dear. And Mr Bond, you are looking as handsome as ever.”
Within minutes, the four were standing in a tight circle, three chatting away happily and Mimi tapping her tiny, slippered foot. She could never figure out how her mother had so much energy to remember everyone’s name, who their parents were, and what their social status was.
The Bonds were different. Indeed, Marie and Mimi had known both of them for years. It was the other guests present at the dance that Mimi couldn’t, for the life of her, find anything interesting in. The Duke was handsome, to be sure. She had an odd feeling whenever she was in his presence. Her stomach would feel peculiar poking at her with a mixture of something that would not allow her to eat. It was as if he knew something about her that was a secret. It excited her, but it also made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She couldn’t say that she had a desire to be alone with him.
“Um, excuse me. I’m going to take a stroll around the room. I think I see Lizzie Stevens over by the musicians.”
Marie, Bella, and Francis all nodded and kept up their conversation. Mimi walked back out and down the corridor to re-enter the drawing room at the rear door.
She wasn’t paying attention when she slid around the jamb of the door. A server with a tray of refreshments held high up over his head passed by just as she stepped over the threshold. She jerked back and found herself cushioned against someone just behind her.
“Oh, excuse me. I am so …” She’d turned around to beg pardon of whoever it was that she’d collided with. She gasped. She knew the deep, soft brown eyes that gazed down at her. “Richard!”
“Hello, Mimi.”
“How, how long have you been back?”
“Just a couple of weeks, actually.”
“It’s good to see you are safe.” Her knees trembled, and she prayed he wouldn’t notice the tremor of that slight action which caused her to feel weak throughout her entire body.
“May I escort you into the drawing room?”
Over his shoulder, Mimi caught sight of the Duke. He was shaking hands with Mr Wynne, smiling pleasantries and making his way to depart. For an instant, his eyes met hers, and she looked down quickly.
“I’m sorry, what did you say, Richard? I … I feel a little warm. It is close in this hallway, don’t you think?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Here, let us go over by the open window in the drawing room. Come.” He stepped aside and gestured her to move ahead of him into the room.
All the while, Mimi couldn’t understand why the Duke had left without saying goodbye to her. Had it been because she’d been conversing with Richard? She was entirely distracted and confused. She didn’t even know if she was happy to see Richard.
“You were away for so long, Richard. I’m glad to see you’ve come back to us all in one piece.”
Richard inhaled and said nothing. Mimi continued, “Was it thrilling? Chasing the French army back to their own country. Is Spain as beautiful as they say? Tell me. You must be full of stories. I must admit I was surprised you didn’t write to us. You could have sent a letter to your mother. She knew where we were in Paris.”
Again Richard said nothing in answer to her questions. “Would you like some refreshment, Miss Hancock?”
“I would, uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know your rank, Sir.” She winked at her old friend. “I must say, though, you look quite dashing in your dress uniform.
“Lieutenant.” Richard didn’t smile. “I shall get you some ratafia, Miss Hancock. Please, here is a seat.” He’d manoeuvred her to the alcove he’d reclined in all evening and set off, walking along the wall, to approach the waiter who carried the tray of glasses. He picked a ratafia for Mimi and a
glass of claret for himself. As he walked back to her, he was aware that he’d been using the wall to support himself slightly whenever he moved from one area to another. Now, with a glass in each hand, he had trouble balancing. A sharp sensation pierced through his leg like a needle of hot steel.
He pitched forward and set the glass of claret on the mantel. He stood for a moment, willing the pain away, composing his facial features, and then standing to his full height. He left the glass on the mantle and went towards the alcove, praying that no one had seen him almost fall. It would be said that he’d been drunk. He didn’t want that, but it was preferable to people knowing the awful truth of his newly deformed leg.
He reminded himself to have Blackmore escort him to the cane shop for a supply of various walking sticks. Now that he was a gentleman, he could carry one. And it would aid him, as well as putting him at the forefront of men’s fashion. He was a gentleman, after all.
Chapter 9
“Richard, I saw you stumble. Are you well?” Mimi’s brow was puckered. She knew he couldn’t be drunk because he never drank too much. At least not to her knowledge. And anyone imbibing to excess at a private townhouse party would never be invited back. It was the height of rudeness and quite disrespectful. Not to mention the gossip that would ensue if such a thing were to happen.
“Oh, that. Yes. I’m fine. The toe of my boot caught the edge of the runner bordering the dance floor.”
“I see. You didn’t get refreshment for yourself?”
“I’m not very thirsty.” He took a seat on the small sofa next to the chair she sat in.
“Oh.” Mimi didn’t know what to say. Richard seemed so standoffish. She hadn’t seen him dance all evening. In fact, she hadn’t known he was here at all until they’d nearly collided.
Mimi presumed he didn’t want to dance or he would have asked her to take a turn by now. She realised how silly it had been of her to mention the war. He clearly didn’t want to tell stories about his adventures with the army.
“Are your parents here, Richard? Or your brother and his wife?”
“Yes, my parents are here. Honestly, I’m at this soiree simply because of them. And the Wynnes. My father has partnered with Mr Wynne at the bank. It looks as if he’s going to pick up young Bond as a third partner as well.”
“Oh, how grand,” Mimi exclaimed. “My father would be so pleased. Francis Bond is a lovely individual. I allowed my best friend to marry him, did I not?” She laughed gaily.
Richard said nothing. Mimi’s laughter gradually faded. He was looking out over the dancers. Mimi watched him. Lizzie Stevens was dancing with a young dandy. Could it be possible that Richard was jealous?
Mimi didn’t know what to say or do. She felt invisible to him. She saw her mother across the room. This was the chance to escape the heavy feeling of confusion that had descended upon her suddenly.
She stood. “Uh, Lieutenant. Please excuse me. I see my mother. I fear she is preparing to leave.”
“Shall I escort you?”
“Richard, she is just there. I think I need no escort, though I do thank you. Good night.”
“Bonne nuit, Mimi.”
She turned and walked away. Why had he used the language of her childhood?
*******
Richard watched Mimi as she moved towards her mother. Marie was being helped with her belongings by Mr Wynne. He heard the lilt of Mimi’s laughter as Mr Wynne said something amusing. It seemed to Richard that Mimi had been completely unaffected by seeing him.
Why had she acted so oddly? So cold? Could it be she was in love with Hertford? Or someone else? She’d danced with nearly everyone. His hand reached into his waistcoat pocket. He absent-mindedly fondled the locket she’d sent to him the day she’d left for Paris all those years ago. It felt like only yesterday.
He made his way, painfully downstairs to the ground floor of the house. He extended his left leg to step after step, bringing his right leg to meet it each time. It took about ten minutes of hurried action to get down all the steps. He would exit the house by the back area and the mews.
He stepped off the final stair into the corridor outside the servants’ hall and the kitchen. The family sitting room and the hall were vacant. But in the kitchen, there was a flurry of activity. Trays were being prepared, ratafia and lemonade being mixed up, and light foods and desserts were being arranged on trays.
While the Wynnes hadn’t made the event a dinner party, the night, at ten o’clock, was young. There would be late supper probably around midnight.
Richard stepped out the back door into the yard. The garden was beyond, and then the mews. He’d arrived at the Wynnes’ with his parents. How foolish he’d been not to have brought his own carriage. Getting a Hansom would be easy enough. It was getting inside the thing that would prove problematic.
Well, money had a way of talking in London, and a way of preventing others from talking if need be. Richard would tip the driver of the cab handsomely to buy the security of knowing that nothing would be said about his needing help into and out of the cab.
He walked down the mews to the passage three houses down. It was dark, and it was easy to slip through the side way to the street in front. By the time he got to the street, his leg was stabbing him with intense pain. He gritted his teeth and rested for a moment against the wrought iron fence in front of the house, one in a row of white stuccoed residences. His breathing came in little shallow blasts.
For a moment, he thought he might pass out, then the sound of hooves brought him to a sense of attention. He looked towards the sound and realised he knew the horses pulling the light covered carriage. It was his parents.
Richard stepped out to the curb and waved. The horses slowed and came to a stop. A voice within issued forth.
“What say you man, stepping out into our way?”
The driver knocked on the top of the carriage and hopped down. “What is it, Kirby?”
“It’s the Lieutenant, Mr Warren.” The man, sensing that something was wrong went to Richard.
“The Lieutenant?” Mr Warren leaned out the window. “Come now, Richard. What is going on? Your mother and I, and the Wynnes I might add, all looked for you before we left. We didn’t know what had become of you.”
“Are you well, darling?” Lavinia’s voice carried from the carriage.
The groom helped Richard to the carriage and boosted him inside, closing the door behind him.
“I’m having some pain.”
“Oh dear. It was too much for you. We should never have insisted on Richard going to the party, Mr Warren.”
“Richard? Should we summon the doctor?”
“No, Father. Mother, I am fine. I just overdid it a little. Tomorrow, I will start riding again. Daily. That will strengthen the muscles of my leg. Right now, though, I want nothing more than my bed and a good night’s sleep.”
“My poor darling. I hate seeing you in pain, Richard. Maybe we should go up to Cromer for August. The sea air would do you so much good. I can write the necessary letters in the morning.”
“Yes, Mother. Whatever you say.” Richard leaned his head against the back of the seat.
“My dear Lavinia. I can think of no better treatment for our son. I however will not be going to Cromer. I have young Mr Bond coming in to start work next week. The rest of the summer will be a transitional time for the bank.”
“Is it still called the Warren Hancock Bank, Father?”
“It is, son. Why wouldn’t it be? Joseph Hancock enabled us to come to London, my boy. If it hadn’t been for his generosity and kindness, your mother and I would still be in Newcastle trying to get ahead. As it is we have been meaning to tell you that we shall be moving from Jermyn Street.”
Richard sat up straight. “Moving?”
Lavinia chimed in. “Yes, dear. We are to relocate to a better neighbourhood. I don’t feel your father should be living in a tradesmen’s area.”
“But you are a tradesman, Father.”
“Your father is in banking, Richard. He is a banker. From here on in, we make no more mention of the word goldsmith. We must separate ourselves from that sector of society. Just as I haven’t spoken of having been an actress for years. I have removed myself from the stigma that attaches itself to a woman living that kind of life.”
“Mother, do you realise that you sound like a hypocrite?” Richard was becoming increasingly annoyed. Why did everyone in London want to be something they weren’t?
“My darling boy. This city is full of hypocrites. And mind where you cast your finger of judgement. You joined the army to better your place in society. You know it, your father knows it, and I know it. Just be sure no one else knows it.”
The Lost Love of a Stunning Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 11
