A Reformed Rake
Page 20
Halford laughed at how neatly the tables had been turned. “I’m perfectly willing to admit, here in this room and only to you, that there have been many times in my life I have wished it were not so.”
“Then you’ll be surprised, I think, to learn that I’ve no regrets concerning my marriage. I like your sister.” Halford blinked, the glass he’d been raising to his lips stalled as he stared over its rim at his guest. “You like her?”
“I like her spirit. I understand her frustration with the way her life has gone.” He held up a hand as Halford would have spoken. “No. Do not argue. She is to blame for much of her own misery, that is undeniable, but it hasn’t always been easy for her; and, yet, that has not broken her. She needs a firm hand on the reins, however. My family is long lived, so that even though I can give her thirty years, I am unlikely to die any time soon. I will not out-live her, but, with luck, I will have broken her of most of her bad habits before my life ends and she is free, again, to go her own way.”
“You like her?” repeated Halford.
Lord Crawford chuckled. “Do not, I pray, let that information come to my wife’s pretty little ears. I will lose what authority I have over her if she comes to believe she may wind me around her fingers. This is a fine vintage, my lord.”
Halford, his mind shuffling the unbelievable information he’d just been given around in his mind, nodded. He followed Lord Crawford’s lead and changed the conversation to non-personal subjects. Soon Lord Crawford rose from his chair, and Halford followed him to the door.
“If I am to remove to this house, I must make arrangements. I am not certain it is wise having Cressida stay here, but I am pleased for myself to be given the opportunity to be closer to my granddaughter. Thank you, my lord, for the invitation.” Lord Crawford accepted his hat from Marks and strolled into the street.
Halford stared for a long blank moment at the door Marks closed on their guest. Then he threw back his head and laughed. When she’d married Lord Crawford, his sister had done a far better day’s work then she’d ever admit. But what a joke it was! Poor Cressy wouldn’t see the humor, however. In fact it was a joke he must enjoy alone, since it would not do to spread word of the armed camp in which the couple lived. He chuckled again, accepted hat and gloves from Marks, and he, too, left Halford house for a time.
Eleven
Françoise watched her companion dress for the opera, which Harriet was to attend with Sir Frederick and the duke and duchess. “I cannot like her, Harriet.” Cressy had been at Halford House for only two days but had made her presence felt.
“You are not alone, Frani. Elizabeth tells me Lady Crawford’s reaction to you was not unexpected, the jealousy and general nastiness, I mean. Your grandfather has shielded you as much as he can, but he cannot be here at all times. My friend, Joanna, says Lady Crawford has always been difficult. It may help if you remember it is not just you who draws her fire, my dear.”
Harriet didn’t repeat Joanna’s story of how Cressy had lied in an attempt to come between His Grace, the Duke of Stornway, and Joanna during Joanna’s first season and how that interference had been so successful that Joanna had married Lieutenant Wooten instead. Then, when she was widowed, Pierce had courted Joanna again, and again Cressy had tried to interfere, but, this time, she’d not succeeded. That was no story for an innocent girl!
“I like that gown, Hard,” said Frani, drawing her companion from her thoughts. “I do, too. I must show it to your grandmother before I go down and must not forget to thank her for it.”
“Are you excited that you are to attend the opera, Harriet?”
“I am.”
And she was. Not only was it opera, a form of entertainment for which she had a passion, but Sir Frederick I would be her escort. At some point in the past few days, Harriet had decided that she would enjoy his company whenever she could, even though she could not bring herself to trust that he truly loved her. Her reputation could go hang while she made memories on which she could draw in the dull days of the future!
Harriet stood before the cheval-glass and checked that all was right with the full concert dress she believed a totally unwarranted expense on the part of Madame la Contesse—which thought might imply she was ungrateful. Not true. She was exceedingly grateful because she’d not embarrass Sir Frederick by improper attire. Or perhaps just a trifle improper? Her hand went to her throat which rose above an excessive expanse of chest. Surreptitiously, she attempted to pull the bodice a trifle higher. Françoise, noticing, giggled.
“May I borrow that zephyr shawl you bought a day or so ago?” Harriet asked with as much indifference as she could manage.
“I think not.”
Harriet turned, noted the twinkle in Françoise’s eyes. “Why not?”
“Don’t sound so suspicious. Simply, I think the color very wrong with that gown. Now my long shawl, the French silk, which you drape over your elbows...”
“No.” Harriet sighed. “That will not do the trick. You know why I wished the other.”
“Yes, so you could cover up your shoulders and bosom! Don’t do it, Harri. You’ve lovely shoulders.”
“I notice you say nothing of the bosom. But then,” she turned back to the mirror, “what could one say? I wonder if I should have spent some of my savings on wax bust improvers.”
“You are teasing! You would not.”
Harriet laughed, but wondered if she had jested—entirely. “No. I would not. Oh,” she said glancing at the clock on the mantel, “look at the time. Come. We will visit your grandmother together.”
“I wish I were going out.”
“Do you? But you turned down the invitation to Carlton House.”
“I’ve no wish to be introduced to the Regent. I have heard many horrid stories about the crush and the heat, and I cannot like the prince’s extravagance. Mon dieu, I am not English, me, so I need not bend the knee to him, which is just as well, I think.”
“Frani, you must not say such things. Besides, you are half English.”
“I know.” Harriet was disturbed by an unusually serious expression deep in Françoise’s eyes when the girl went on thoughtfully. “I do not feel English, Harri. I like London, and I am enjoying our visit here, but to live in England always? Non. I think not.”
Harriet studied her charge, a new worry in her mind. She chided herself for being too wrapped up in her own emotions to have a care for Frani’s. “What is this? Have you been unhappy, and I not know it?”
“Not unhappy. Just ... out of place? Not quite comfortable, perhaps?”
“Lord and Lady Halford have been so kind.”
“Very kind. Also the others we have met. But—oh, I do not quite know how to phrase it ... Harriet,” she added in a rush, “do you not miss Italy? The lake and the warmth and the sun and our friends and flowers everywhere.”
A startled look settled on Frani’s face. “Perhaps it is maybe that I am homesick?” she suggested.
“I’ll stay home this evening.”
“No.” Françoise took her hand and led her to the door. “That you will not. You will come and let Grand-mere see how well you look, and you will go down and await your Sir Frederick, and you will enjoy the opera. That is an order, Miss Cole! I’m sorry, Harriet. I should not have said anything to spoil this special evening. Forget it, please?”
“Forget what?” asked the imperious woman resting on a chaise longue set near the fireplace as they walked into her room.
“That I have been silly. I should not have told her, for now she will fuss.”
“How have you been silly?” There was a harsh tone underlying Madame’s demand for information.
“She has admitted to a little homesickness, that is all,” soothed Harriet. “And she has asked that I not let it worry me.”
Madame shrugged. “If that is all! Of course you yearn for home, you silly child. So do I. But we are here, and here we will stay until something is settled about that dratted comte.”
“
And then, Grand-mere?”
Madame held out her hand, and her granddaughter slipped to a position on the rug beside the chaise longue. Frani rubbed the heavily-veined hand against her cheek. Madame looked at Harriet who hovered nearby. “Leave her with me, Harriet. Go now and enjoy yourself.” The old woman smiled and nodded. “You, my dear, deserve to enjoy yourself.”
Harriet bit her lip. Both women, young and old, had given her leave to forget her position. She would not allow it to go to her head, but she would take all the pleasure she could from the treat. “I will not be late.”
“You will be as late as you please,” contradicted Françoise with a nice pertness, and went on with an arrogance reminiscent of her grandmother. “Allez!” Frani pointed toward the door.
Harriet went. She joined the others in the formal drawing room, where only Cressy had not yet appeared. She was complimented on her looks and blushed at the attention both Halford and Crawford paid her. “Please, you will turn my head. Save my blushes, I pray you!”
“Elizabeth,” said Lord Halford, musingly, “would not that sapphire set you inherited from your grandmother go well with that dress?”
“It would indeed,” agreed his wife. “Pull the bell, Robert, and I will send for it.”
“No. Please.” Harriet continued her protest as Robert obeyed. “I could not borrow anything so valuable.”
The argument went on for a few minutes, Elizabeth quietly, somewhere in the middle of it, ordering Marks to ask her dresser to bring down the required jewels. When they arrived Robert opened the case and went to stand behind Harriet. He lifted the necklace around her neck and, bending, fastened the tiny clasp.
Cressida swept in as he worked at it. She’d left her room in an excellent mood but seeing that the despised Harriet was receiving yet another mark of favor, her good humor evaporated. “Do you think it wise, loaning a servant valuables?” She frowned as Harriet was handed a matching bracelet.
“Very wise when the so-called servant is Miss Cole. How lovely you look, Cressy,” added her brother, knowing compliments would ease his sister’s mood.
Cressida turned her back on Harriet, for which act Harriet was thankful. There had been one barb after another ever since Cressida discovered that not only was Frederick paying court to Harriet, but that the hated Joanna was an old friend of the companion. Harriet knew the reasons for falling under Cressy’s disfavor and ruefully tried to avoid confrontation, but it was difficult.
The door opened again, and Marks announced the duke and duchess and Sir Frederick. Cressida turned. Her eyes met Joanna’s and, for a moment, the two women stared blankly at each other.
“My dear, how lovely you look.” Frederick strolled over to Harriet’s side and raised her hand to his lips. The room faded as she stared into his eyes. The overly polite exchange of greetings going on around them was irrelevant. Frederick put her hand on his arm and held it, covered by his other hand. “Are you ready? A cape or shawl?”
“I’ve a cloak. Marks is keeping it ready for me.”
“Then I believe we should go.”
“Rather early, is it not?” drawled Cressida on Frederick’s other side. “Or will you sneak in so the ton will not see the young person on your arm?”
Lord Crawford joined them before Sir Frederick could indulge Cressida in the row for which she obviously wished. Otherwise, she’d not have used a pejorative term when referring to Harriet. His lordship’s hand on his wife’s wrist was not gentle. “You will apologize, my dear.”
Reluctantly, Cressy did so. It did not improve her temper, but, by then, Frederick had realized the impropriety of quarreling.
“We wish to hear the whole opera, Cressy,” said Joanna, soothingly. “We are going for the music, not the usual reasons.”
“To see and be seen? But you will be seen, Frederick. How the ton will talk!”
“Cressida.”
She turned to look up at her husband, bit her lip and, for just a moment, her eyes flitted around the room before she looked at him again. “Yes, Crawford?”
“Come here, m’dear.”
Her face hardened. Then his eyes went cold as ice in a certain way they had. It was an expression she’d learned meant she’d better obey. “My lord?” she asked, leaning near.
He spoke to her so quietly no one could hear and, as they spoke together, Robert motioned the others to leave, following them from the room.
“Do not, Miss Cole, allow my sister to upset you,” said Robert. “She will if she can.”
“I believe my common sense will carry me through, Lord Halford.”
“I believe it will, too. Enjoy yourselves,” he said. Frederick settled Harriet’s cloak around her shoulders, the deeply tanned hands lingering there for an extra moment. Startled she looked up and their gaze met for a long moment. Frederick felt a moment’s exultation when she dropped her eyes in confusion. That she did not frown, nor rebuke him for his temerity surely boded well for the rest of the evening. He followed her out and gently helped her into the waiting carriage.
“Did you visit the opera when you were in London before?” he asked her once the four were settled, the men facing back.
“Oh yes. It was one of the few occasions I remember with some fondness—not the intervals, which were all that interested my chaperon, but the music! As much as I love Françoise, you cannot know how much I miss opportunities such as this to listen to the great musicians of our age. Sometimes I have missed Vienna’s music nearly as much as I miss my parents—which must sound a cold, cruel thing,” she added, blushing.
“I think we can understand, Miss Cole,” said the duke. “For someone in whom music is very much part of their soul, to be deprived of it leaves one as if lost in a desert.”
“You do understand.”
“Did you think we would not?” asked Frederick, a trifle put out his friend had spoken before he himself could do so. Harriet didn’t look at him, and he sighed. He very much feared she had thought exactly that—at least where he was concerned. Would he never find a way through that protective shell she wore like armor?
He looked out the window at the ancient buildings that had once been the homes of great Elizabethans. In these streets and byways Shakespeare had walked. Did Harriet think him so insensitive to his surroundings he didn’t know that? Or did she think he saw only the poverty, the beggars and prostitutes, the latter’s garish dress a contrast to the rich gowns of the tonish woman exiting coaches near the steps to Covent Garden’s main entrance. He glanced at Harriet. Forgetting his irritation as he noted her rising excitement, he felt at peace again: He had found one way of giving pleasure to his Harriet. He would gradually discover others. And someday she would come to him free of fears, free to love him as he loved her. He smiled into her eyes as he helped her from the coach and gently placed her hand on his arm. They followed the duke and duchess into the opera house and through the crowds, up the stairs, and finally, into the crimson-draped box.
The duke’s box was situated near the stage but not quite directly across from the royal box. His Grace commented on the fact that they would not have the privilege of seeing royalty that night, given the gala the prince was holding at Carlton House.
“Did you not receive an invitation, Your Grace?” asked Harriet. Only as the words left her mouth did she realize how rude they were. “Oh dear. My unruly tongue!”
Pierce chuckled, stretching out one leg, his hand sliding into that pocket. He leaned back in his chair. “Well, dear?” he asked Joanna. “Did we receive a card?”
“I cannot recall.” Jo put a finger to her forehead and pretended to frown. “Now did we or did we not?”
Sir Frederick laughed. “Don’t roast my poor innocent so. She’ll die of blushing if you keep on in such a way.” Pierce smiled. “We did indeed receive an invitation, Miss Cole. I, however, had an unexceptionable excuse to avoid the affair.”
“You did, Your Grace?”
“Joanna has told you she is increasing?”
“And you’ll also be aware the prince has an almost superstitious dread of illness?”
Harriet frowned. “But what, Your Grace, has one to do with the other?”
“I informed our prince of our expectations and said that I feared for Jo’s good health. Perhaps, I said, a damp stranger, standing too near, might infect her. Our prinny was most understanding.”
Harriet blinked. “But, you do not fear a crowded opera house?”
“Oh, we arrived early, did we not?” He waved a hand. “We’ll either leave early or wait until all is clear. Our box, itself, is quite exclusive, of course.”
Harriet looked from one to the other, letting her eyes rest longest on the laughing countenance of her friend Jo. “You, Your Grace,” she scolded Pierce, “are a complete hand.” A conscious look entered her eyes. “I mean, Your Grace, that you are a joke-smith of the first order. You did not wish to go to Carlton House this evening!” she accused.
“You have found me out. I trust you will not be so poor-spirited as to spread the tale of my perfidy abroad?”
Harriet chuckled. “I see I am to keep on my toes in your company, Your Grace, or be taken for a flat!”
Frederick said, “I know you will never be that, m’girl. You’ve too much in your cockloft to ever be taken for a flat.”
“Oh no. Oh, Joanna, will you pinch me when my tongue runs on? I must break myself of the habit of using such language.”
“I don’t believe I’ve heard you do so quite so freely before this evening,” said Frederick thoughtfully. “Why tonight?”
Harriet’s eyes dropped to her hands. Collecting such words and phrases had been a hobby with her for years. She enjoyed them, but she did not use them—except in a joking way with Madame, who also enjoyed them. So why, now, had she dropped the guard on her tongue? Only occasionally did she slip as she’d done tonight. But twice in as many minutes? Perhaps because she liked these people, felt relaxed with them? Was the reason that simple?