by Dorothy Mack
Cleone’s head came up, the sweet Madonna look replaced by excitement that started in soft brown eyes and was echoed in beautifully curving lips, parted now to reveal fine white teeth. “I never dreamed anything could be so — so exhilarating! I could waltz all night.” When Lord Altern’s eyes continued to devour her face, roaming over her features and lingering on parted lips, she discovered a need to lighten the silence that suddenly seemed to roar above the music. The tip of her tongue made a nervous circuit of her top lip.
“You — you have missed your profession, sir; you were obviously born to be a dancing master.” As he still didn’t speak, she babbled on, “An accomplished partner need not be quite so proficient in the steps as a dancing master, but he is required to exchange polite commonplaces with his partners — please!” This last was added with an imploring look that succeeded in releasing Jason’s tongue.
“Do you mean that in a more equitable society I should have been raised to be a dancing master while you would be trained to become a professional painter?”
Her little gurgle of laughter held as much relief that the awkward moment had passed as amusement. “Undoubtedly.”
“Speaking of which, how is the portrait coming along?”
“I have used the first sessions to sketch your aunt in various attitudes. It was only today that we began the actual portrait. She is not an easy subject. It will take concentration to avoid making her seem sweetly insipid, which she decidedly is not.”
“Very true. My aunt is a woman of sweetness and character. I see I shall be getting my money’s worth from such a perceptive artist.”
Cleone risked a quick upward glance at his unrevealing face. “I have been meaning to speak to you on that subject, my lord.”
“So I am returned to ‘my lord.’ This sounds ominous.”
“It is nothing of the sort.” She took a deep breath and began, “Will you not reconsider this ridiculous notion of paying me for painting my own godmother, sir?”
“It isn’t a ridiculous notion; it is a simple business arrangement, and no, I shan’t reconsider.”
“Very well. Then I wish to apply whatever fee you deem a fair payment toward reducing Philip’s debt to you.”
Jason stared down into another sweet face that could never be deemed insipid and just now might, with some justification, be called mulish in its determination. “I wondered if that was what was in your head when you changed your tune so unexpectedly. The answer is no, my dear Miss Latham, for good and sufficient reasons into which I do not propose to delve on a crowded dancefloor.”
“Then when may we go into them?” Cleone cried in frustration. “I never see you except in crowds of people, and I would like to discuss this. Please do not fob me off with platitudes.”
“I too am sick of the crowds of people, but it must remain like this for a bit longer. As I told you once before, our time will come.”
Ignoring the throb of intensity in his voice, Cleone narrowed her eyes. “It should not present any great difficulty surely to find five minutes of privacy in which to discuss a matter of business. It could be accomplished in Godmama’s drawing room any day of the week. Even with others present, one can often find a quiet corner.”
“Miss Latham, I am surprised at you, conniving at assignations.”
“You know that isn’t what I meant.”
He smiled tenderly into indignant eyes and swept her briefly closer as the music wound down. “I know, my dear, and I promise you you shall have your five minutes and more before we are very much older. Now I must return you to Aunt Bess before your next partner comes looking for me with murder in his eyes.”
For the rest of the evening, Cleone strove to portray a young woman unreservedly enjoying a ball. It was not all pretence, of course; she did love dancing again, though no subsequent dance could compare with the joy of that first waltz and no other partner could equal Lord Altern in skill. The problem was inside her head, where a mass of confusion reigned.
The primary purpose in coming to Brighton was to please her godmother, but there must have been other expectations too or she wouldn’t be experiencing this emotional seesawing. Not ordinarily given to temperamental changes in affect, she could not remember a time when her moods had alternated so quickly between anticipation and lowness of spirits, not even during her own strange come-out five years before, when her mother’s illness had cast a shadow over every new experience. In trying to identify the causes of her malaise, she could safely say that being with her godmother was an unvarying pleasure and being in Emerald’s company was a similarly unvarying cross to bear. It gave her no satisfaction to realize that the high points of her stay thus far were those few instances when Lord Altern had singled her out for a special attention that almost amounted to intimacy. It gave her even less satisfaction to recognize that, conversely, her worst moments were those in which the earl almost seemed to enter into a competition with Lord Carberry for Emerald’s favour. A case in point was this afternoon, when he had left Miss Spengler and herself to walk with Emerald and Lady Pendleston, edging aside Lord Carberry. Since Lord Altern could have been betrothed to Emerald at this moment, had he chosen to follow through on his initial courtship, his current actions bore the taint of dog in the manger about them, a failing she had accused herself of not long since. What was the matter with everyone lately?
Though not proud of her jealousy of her cousin’s attraction for the earl, Cleone felt she had the saving grace of sincerity on her side. Had the circumstances of her life been different, she would have gladly encouraged his frequent preference for her own company. She regretted not possessing enough nobility of character to welcome his advances to Emerald, but she could sooner excuse her own weakness than one that only saw value in a woman if it was necessary to walk over a rival’s ruin to her heart. Her own heart ached at the necessity of admitting the existence of baser qualities in Lord Altern. Not for the first time did Cleone deplore the unsuspected existence of a strong romantic streak in her nature. It wasn’t love she felt for Lord Altern, of course; she had experienced none of the wilder emotions so widely touted by generations of poets, but she liked and admired him. It must be that she hated to admit to being wrong in her judgment of his character.
Whatever the cause of her present discomfort, the cure was implicit. Cleone Latham must not permit herself to deviate from her chosen path even in her thoughts. Her duty was clear, and anything that posed a danger to the performance of it should be avoided.
She had repeated cause to remind herself of this inflexible dictum over the next few days. Every day saw meetings with Lord Altern, who had the run of his aunt’s house, and Lord Carberry, whose ingenuity was apparently equal to the task of keepings tabs on all of Emerald’s activities. If the two men chanced to arrive at the same hour, Lord Altern kept a stream of light-hearted compliments directed at Miss Hardwicke, but Cleone noted that his behaviour underwent a change in Lord Carberry’s absence. Then he acted the part of sensible, considerate guest, distributing his attentions among those present. Cleone wondered if this strange conduct was obvious to her cousin, but she’d have died before raising the issue. So far, Emerald had refrained from openly favouring either of her two most highly placed suitors, not a particularly difficult feat since the house on Marine Parade was never short of company. As long as their hectic social life didn’t overtire Lady Pendleston, Cleone was just as pleased to have it so from a selfish point of view. It was easier to avoid her beautiful cousin in a crowd. Lady Pendleston had shown momentary surprise on one or two occasions when Emerald had sought to denigrate her cousin, but she refrained alike from commenting on this or her nephew’s odd behaviour, preserving an agreeable manner toward all.
This oddly unsatisfactory state of affairs persisted into the next week when Lady Pendleston and her houseguests were bidden to attend a musical evening at the Pavilion. They were in for a treat, she promised, for the prince’s resident band was quite renowned and was rumoured to cost him severa
l thousand pounds per annum to maintain.
“But do wear your lightest gowns tonight, my dears, because one thing that is not a rumour is that any dwelling owned by his highness is sure to be overheated. He has a morbid fear of draughts and night air, so there will be no hope of a cooling breeze near a window.”
Thus warned, the girls brought their most efficient fans with them as well as their lightest gauze shawls to drape across their elbows. Both were wearing new gowns saved for the occasion. Cleone’s basic wardrobe, sadly inadequate to the demands of a stay in a socially active resort, had been augmented by several recent additions, thanks to an unexpected and substantial gift from her great-uncle on her departure for Brighton. When she had protested, misty-eyed, against the necessity of such wanton largess, he had told her in his crustiest manner to hold her tongue and see that she did him credit — he wouldn’t have it said that she looked like some dowdy companion to her cousin.
The earl would have had no grounds for complaint on that score tonight. Privately, Cleone feared she was more likely to be taken for a bird of paradise than a genteel companion, but Lady Pendleston had not shared her reservations about the low-cut bodice of the modish amber gauze gown worn over a slip of cream-colored silk. With the waistlines of this year’s fashions creeping even higher, there was practically no top left. Indeed, the sleeves had taken over as the site of design elements, and Cleone swung sideways in front of her mirror to admire the insets of lace that came to points in the short puffed sleeves. Padded bands of creamy silk edged the sleeves and were repeated along the hemlines of the double flounce that decorated the bottom of the otherwise plain skirt.
Her satisfaction with her appearance lasted until her cousin entered the main saloon. It would take a great deal more conceit than Cleone possessed for a female to have any hopes of holding her own in company with Emerald Hardwicke. She contented herself with a sincere compliment on her cousin’s appearance, her artist’s eye appreciating the effect of the pale-green muslin gown with its deeper-green satin appliques on the skirt and knots of matching ribbons trimming the sleeves and floating down from the bow at the waistline. No colour could be more flattering, enhancing as it did the jewel tones of Emerald’s eyes.
Those eyes narrowed rather unpleasantly as they swept over Cleone’s graceful curves and long limbs tantalizingly revealed with each movement of the soft fabric of her gown, but Emerald merely nodded in acceptance before turning away to compliment her hostess, who was looking charming in mauve silk. Knowing her cousin’s jealous temperament, Cleone deduced that her displeasure was a measure of her own attraction tonight, and she took heart as they gathered up their accoutrements and set out for the Pavilion.
They entered the palace through an octagonally shaped vestibule lighted by a central Chinese lantern to signal the eastern influence in the furnishings. By the time they had been presented to the Prince Regent, who was receiving his guests in the Chinese Gallery, an enormously long room full of Chinese motifs, and passed on to the splendidly appointed Music Room, not the vainest first-time visitor could be so self-centred as to have her own appearance still on her mind. Cleone merely nodded absently when Lord Altern came up to greet them, missing, in her absorption with the exotic decor, the look of admiration that warmed his eyes at sight of her finery. Even Emerald, after a brief acknowledging smile for Lord Carberry’s compliments on her appearance, resumed staring about her from the painted iron trelliswork that imitated bamboo and visually divided the room into sections to the mirrored doors at the end, which seemed to double the length. Her eyes rounded at the spectacle of tall porcelain pagodas and lingered on examples of embroidered costumes.
The Prince Regent, so corpulent now in his fifties as to appear faintly ridiculous in the tight, revealing garments that demanded a youthful physique to do them justice, was always gracious to his guests. His air of affability took on an added warmth when the two young women, presented to him by Lady Pendleston, rose from their curtsies. It was true that his slightly protuberant blue eyes tended to drift more often toward Emerald, but Cleone came in for her share of his flattering attention. He was well-pleased to receive their comments on the beauty of his house and actually launched into a short monologue of his current alteration projects and the difficulties entailed in keeping the work proceeding. The decoration of the south drawing room, for instance, was lagging well behind schedule, though he was willing to offer the workmen double or treble pay to labour nights and Sundays. Since the prince’s highly publicized financial extravagances, of which the Pavilion was not the least example, had ever been a sore subject with the king and Parliament, his guests could only look sympathetic and be grateful when someone else claimed his attention at that moment.
They had scarcely settled themselves in the Music Room when the prince’s secretary approached to present his royal highness’s compliments and request that Miss Hardwicke should do him the honour of singing for his guests. Cleone would have quailed at the mere thought of performing in such exalted circumstances, but Emerald was made of sterner stuff. After a charming little display of maidenly confusion, she acceded to the summons, urged on by a proud Lord Carberry, who escorted her to the front of the room when the time came.
Cleone slid a sideways glance at Lord Altern. His usual unreadable urbanity was replaced by an expression of unmistakable satisfaction as he too followed her beautiful cousin’s progress across the floor. Her eyes dropped to the hands in her lap. She loosened her grip on her ivory fan and smoothed its edges with slow strokes of her index finger.
“Did you know you have singularly thick eyelashes?” murmured a voice in her ear. “They look like little fans on your cheeks.”
The lashes in question swept up and the eyes they framed flickered in bewilderment as they read the controlled excitement in his.
“And did you know,” he went on, “that your eyes are a delectably rich chocolate brown that is amazing with your colouring, but sometimes, as at this moment, they have little gold flecks in them that match the gold lights in that wonderful hair you bundle up behind your head.”
The brown eyes never wavered, though her lips firmed slightly. “You are pleased to be in a flirtatious humour tonight, my lord.”
“And you have already expressed your views on flirtation, have you not, Miss Latham? You consider it can lead to misunderstandings, but since there is no slightest chance of a misunderstanding arising between us, I consider myself free to continue with this most pleasurable activity.”
Cleone might well have been seduced into abetting him in his whimsical pursuit had it not been so obvious to her that his tearing high spirits were the result of Emerald’s favoured status tonight. She said repressively, “I have another suggestion, sir. We have not yet discussed your reasons for refusing to allow me to reduce Philip’s debt. If there is time for flirting, there is time for meaningful speech.”
Lord Altern sighed ostentatiously. “My practical Miss Latham. Very well, first we shall address ourselves to this gigantic debt of Henley’s.” His serious gaze tangled with hers. “Now, do you agree that in landing himself in the briars on his first experience on his own in the wicked city, your cousin did no more than many a halfling has done before him?”
Cleone nodded a silent assent, her eyes never leaving his.
“We both know that his attempts to rectify matters could have been disastrous, but Philip has learned something from that unfortunate episode. We have discussed a system of gradual repayment that will keep him purse-pinched next year at university, but this is the way he wishes to handle the situation. Would you deny him the right to make an honourable restitution by assuming his obligation?”
“No, of course not, but it is scarcely fair to you to take such flagrant advantage of your generosity. I could pay you and Philip may pay me back as he is able.”
“The trifling sum involved is of no consequence. What does matter is that Henley prefers to deal with me on a business basis. And now, my dear, before you open that beau
tiful mouth to argue further, I must tell you that your cousin is about to sing and it would never do to commit the discourtesy of inattention. Some clacking tongues among the honoured guests might begin to question your devotion to your family.”
At this last shaft, delivered in a silky baritone, suspicion sharpened Cleone’s gaze, but perforce she closed her lips and assumed an attitude of rapt attention that did credit to her upbringing and served to camouflage the fact that her mind was busy with her own thoughts. That these thoughts were centred on the odd behaviour of her companion rather than the beauty of her cousin’s performance was perhaps inevitable. Loath though she was to continue the family indebtedness, she was forced to recognized the validity of the earl’s argument. She bit her lip in frustration at the further realization that, not only were her hands tied as far as repayment of Philip’s debt was concerned, but she was now committed to accepting a fee from Lord Altern for her portrait of his aunt. For a moment she closed her eyes in an instinctive attempt to blot out the complexities of her present situation, aware of a childish longing to put the clock back a few weeks to a time when her life seemed simple and well-directed. From a far distance Emerald’s lovely voice soared and rippled through the large room, but it scarcely impinged on her consciousness.
The rest of the evening took on a dreamlike quality for Cleone. She was aware of receiving compliments on her cousin’s performance from newly met acquaintances and hoped her replies proved adequate. She was conscious of Lady Pendleston’s presence and her own admiration of the ingrained social sense that enabled her godmother to carry on smoothly in all situations. The salient factor that forced all else into the background, however, was the continuous presence of Lord Altern at her side. He conversed and joked with friends, made a number of introductions, and allowed her to speak to her acquaintances without demanding attention, but however inconspicuous his behaviour, he never once left her side. Cleone grew more puzzled as the hours passed, and an unacknowledged tension grew within her. She had greater recourse to her fan as the evening waned and the temperature of the rooms climbed. Great was her relief when at last Lady Pendleston declared her intention of leaving.
