Chapter Twenty-One
“Good evening, Mademoiselle Lawton. You’re looking très belle.”
“Mr. Dubuc. How kind of you to say so.” Tally was surprised to be greeted by Victor Dubuc the moment she entered her sister’s home this evening. Had he been waiting for her to arrive, she wondered, because he immediately offered her his arm and lead her into Venetia’s ballroom. She was flattered that such a beautiful — there was no other word for his beatific good looks — and elegant man wished to escort her. Or had her sister asked him to attend her?
“The Countess and the Earl have done themselves proud this evening,” her escort said.
She still found it odd to hear her sister referred to as a Countess. She had never been in Venetia’s London home before, and was surprised by the understated, classical elegance of it. She was amazed her sister hadn’t succeeded in bullying her husband, Frederick Pallister, the Earl of Hargrave, into adopting a more modern concept. She doffed her proverbial hat to her brother-in-law’s strength of will to have resisted what she knew must have been a veritable campaign launched by Venetia to “improve” their home.
“Darling! You’ve arrived!” Swept into her eldest sister’s arms, she was almost overpowered by the scent of Venetia’s potent perfume. Straight from Paris, Tally was certain. Nothing but the best for her family, damn the cost!
She immediately felt ashamed of her carping attitude. Here was Venetia, going all out for her and she was busy finding fault.
“I see Mr. Dubuc has found you already.”
“I was just about to ask your sister to dance,” he told Venetia.
“Oh, you’re having dancing. I didn’t realize...” Tally looked around and realized there were far more people than she had expected. She’d thought this was going to be a much smaller affair given its belated nature. As for dancing, she was pleased about that. She’d worried it would be mainly standing around talking, followed by a late supper. She should have known better. When had anyone in her family ever done anything on a small scale?
“I’m calling it a soiree, like a smaller, less formal ball,” Venetia explained. She cast a coy look at Mr. Dubuc. “And, by all means, you may ask my sister to dance. I’ll give you the chance to... become better acquainted, shall I, before introducing her to some of the other guests?”
For goodness sake! Did Venetia have to be so obvious?
“May I have the pleasure of this dance, Mademoiselle?” He bowed. “You do dance the waltz?”
Embarrassed by her sister’s obvious machinations, she replied, “Yes, although I have only done so at family gatherings.” What else could she do now but accept? The poor man must be wishing himself miles away from her family and their brazen matchmaking. He’d probably find an excuse to flee as soon as this courtesy dance was over.
“Then we should do fine. After all, this is just a family gathering, although a rather grand one.” He smiled and winked, inviting her to join in his gentle mockery.
Even Venetia laughed. Imagine calling her festive occasion ‘just a family gathering’!
Tally chuckled, sharing the joke, and immediately felt more at ease with him, as they made their way onto the dance floor. He bowed. She curtsied. She was pleased to note that he was an excellent dancer, guiding her through easy steps around the dance circle with practiced ease.
When the dance ended, he said, “If you wish, I will go find us something to drink.”
“That would be lovely. I am rather thirsty.” And she wanted a moment to herself to catch her breath and look around. He had kept her attention firmly focused on him from the moment she’d arrived.
“Will you leave the choice up to me?”
“Certainly.” He phrased it in such a way that it would have been difficult to refuse without seeming impolite. Not that she was worried, with his elegance, she was certain his choice would be beyond reproach.
He left her standing near Milana but, a little shy and not yet ready to be thrust among strangers, she remained quietly unnoticed at the edge of the group circling her sister. Gazing around the large reception room at the elaborate decorations and crowd of gleaming guests, she realized her sisters had gone to a lot of trouble to organize this evening for her. She felt guilty for not appreciating their efforts more.
“Talia?”
“Spence! What are you doing here?” Tally shut her eyes at the enormity of what might happen at any moment should he reveal what he knew. “You promised to stay far away from my family.”
“I know, but I ran into your sisters on Bond Street yesterday and they asked me where I was staying so they might introduce me around. Then they sent me an invitation to tonight’s event, insisting I attend.” He looked sheepish.
“You told them I was in Town?”
“No! Of course not! We never mentioned you.” He was indignant. “I promised.”
“Of course.” She breathed a little easier. “Thank you.” She smiled to placate him. “I appreciate your loyalty. I truly do.” Now, she worried about who else knew, not only that she was in London, but where she lived.
The band launched into a lively country dance and, in spite of her worries, her toe began tapping.
Quickly forgetting his crossness, as usual, Spence held his hand out for hers. He knew how much she loved dancing. “Care to dance?”
“Why thank you, kind sir, I’d be pleased to dance.”
They danced a set and she was suddenly glad she’d come. She hadn’t danced in ages and always enjoyed it. At the end of the sequence, Spence escorted her back to where her sisters were standing and, at her insistence, immediately made himself scarce. She was afraid her family might succeed in worming information out of him if they saw them together.
If he hadn’t told her sisters, then who had? She hadn’t realized London was so… small. The way everyone seemed to know or talk about everybody else made any outing much more perilous. That Spence could run into Venetia and Milana like that!
And, she suddenly remembered, she was going to have to deal with her grandmother later! For awhile she’d managed to put her Grandma’s attendance out of her mind. That she wasn’t here yet was no surprise. Her grandmother loved to make an entrance and usually waited until well after the other guests were there, to arrive.
Of all the relatives she’d most like to avoid, her father’s mother topped the list. Tally loved her dearly, but they were too much alike… and that was the problem. Grandma Lawton sensed things about her that no one else ever did, other than her grandmother’s twin sister, Great Aunt Ida, had.
Worse. Now that Grandma knew her youngest granddaughter was in town, she was going to be on Tally’s doorstep tomorrow! How was she going to conceal Reed’s presence in her house from her inquisitive grandparent? Maybe, if she visited her grandparent at her home instead, she could avoid that.
“Here you are.” Mr. Dubuc sounded aggrieved. “There’s a terrible crush near the bar. I thought I’d never be served!”
“My sister never does things by halves, I’m afraid.” She smiled perfunctorily. He handed her a glass of … ugh! ratafia. “Thank you,” she murmured politely, hiding her grimace of distaste. It was her own fault! She should never have allowed him to choose her drink. But he was French! She’d imagined he’d choose the French wine she knew had to be available at any of her family’s party. Or, at least, the Madeira or even the punch. She was surprised her sister even served this dreadful swill. Her entire family detested it.
No doubt he believed a young lady wouldn’t appreciate a fine wine. If he were one of her brothers, she’d have called him a dunce to his face! Instead, she focused on being thankful Spence hadn’t lingered near her. It was hard to imagine the two men conversing. Spence seemed so young compared to the elegant and sophisticated Mr. Dubuc.
His poor taste in drinks aside, the man was an entertaining companion, she admitted awhile later. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t compare to Reed.
Oh, where had that come from? This was not the time
or place to dwell on her sham spouse. Besides, men had no permanent place in her life, even if they were attractive and… Stop it! She had to stop thinking about him in that vein.
And really, where were her sisters? Hadn’t they promised to introduce her to people? She hadn’t met anyone yet, other than Spence and Mr. Dubuc. But she shouldn’t complain. Spending time with Monsieur’s nephew fit in with her plans. He was putting himself out to amuse her and that was good. She wanted to get along with him because she was hoping he’d help her contact his uncle. She’d been biding her time before bringing that up.
“Piccola.”
Gratefully, she turned to greet Venetia.
“You, little sister, are the most beautiful woman here. Don’t you think so, Mr. Dubuc?”
Her gratitude didn’t last for long. She was mortified that her sister was indulging in more heavy-handed matchmaking. Not giving him the chance to reply, Tally rushed into speech. “Have you heard from mamma recently?”
“Yes, I received a letter from her last week,” Venetia replied. “She says father is thriving on life in Italy and they may never come back. He has so much work, he’s even turning some down.”
“Have you seen his newest work?” Mr. Dubuc asked.
He was nothing if not polite, Tally reflected. He slipped smoothly into any conversation introduced. He’d even managed to inject an eager note in his query.
“Not recently,” her sister answered. “He’s inundated with special commissions, so he has no time to start new work of his own, let alone find the time to send any home for display.”
“Oh, but I saw two of his paintings at the Exhibit that just ended at the Royal Academy.” Tally decided she might as well find out what people were saying about her two paintings.
A slight frown rippled across Mr. Dubuc’s face, before being instantly replaced with his charming smile.
“You did? How strange,” Venetia said.
Tally was silently urging her sister to expound. Instead, her sister turned to Monsieur’s nephew with rueful apology in her voice. “I was so sorry I never found the time to get to the Exhibit this year. I’d promised your uncle and Monsieur Beauclaire I would attend, but with all the preparations for...” Realizing it wouldn’t be tactful to mention their abandoned plans for Paris in front of her, Tally surmised, Venetia shifted the subject back to their father’s artwork. “I wonder how Father managed it. Were they his best yet?”
To Tally’s surprise, Mr. Dubuc answered. “They were very good, indeed.” Of course he’d have seen them. Maybe all of her works. No doubt he got to see most of the artwork kept at Monsieur’s studio.
“My uncle asked me to enter them in the exhibit. I often do that for him, especially if Beauclaire is away.”
So Monsieur hadn’t entered them himself. Could his nephew have made a mistake?
“Mon oncle knew they’d be a great success. They’re a little out of your father’s ordinary style, but quite affecting. Did you not think so, mademoiselle?”
“I did,” she agreed. What else was she to say? “I was surprised to see that both were already sold.”
“You shouldn’t be. Your father’s paintings sell very quickly and for a very good price.”
“I suppose we don’t think of them that way, do we, Talia?” her sister said.
“Uncle received a new shipment of your father’s paintings recently, and I guarantee they will be snapped up like hot cross buns on Good Friday.” The trace of enthusiasm in his voice warmed her to him. Clearly art was his passion too, even if he was on the other side of the canvas.
“Where is Monsieur Beauclaire this evening?” Venetia glanced around looking for the art agent.
Monsieur Beauclaire! Monsieur’s great friend and associate, and her father’s agent in France. She had never met him because he either stayed in London or traveled frequently to France, but she should have thought of him sooner. He would surely be able to tell her where Monsieur was, if Mr. Dubuc couldn’t.
“I thought he’d be eager to meet all father’s patrons in one place, so much less tedious for him. I told him I had invited them all.” Venetia sounded aggrieved.
“I have no idea.” His tone indicated he didn’t much care either. “When are you planning on going to Paris?” he asked her sister, changing the subject.
“We’re not sure,” she cast a quick look at Tally, “but we still expect to go for part of the Season.” She smiled. “I hear you’ve been going over quite regularly.”
“I love the city and the life there.” He cast a quick glance her way. “My greatest wish is to live there at some point in the future.”
Goodness, did he think she’d mind what his future plans were! Tally listened to them talk, with only half her attention, to their discussion on the best places to go and things to do in Paris. The other half assessed Mr. Dubuc. She liked the way he listened to her when she talked. Her father and brothers never gave much regard to her opinions. Nor did her mother or sisters, for that matter.
He wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous. How would it feel to be wed to a man more beautiful than you, she wondered. Yet for all his beauty, he didn’t make her stomach sizzle like Reed did. Just thinking about him caused a little shiver to wiggle up her spine.
He also paid attention to her.
Naturally. He thought he had to. He believed he was her husband. Not that all, or even many husbands of her acquaintance worried about that. Maybe, because he had no recollections of his own, he was thirsty for information. He was willing to do anything to recover his memory.
Impatient with herself for dwelling on him when there was a handsome, interested man in front of her, she made herself face facts. If Reed was a gentleman, as they were beginning to suspect and, if they were truly married, she’d never be permitted to continue painting seriously.
Besides, once he learned who shot him, she was in trouble! And, if he was Quality, he’d no more marry her than the Prince Regent could legally wed Mrs. Fitzherbert!
No more than you would consider wedding him! she scolded herself. No matter how attracted to him you are. Lately, her determination to avoid the wedded state seemed to be wavering.
You have to stop this ridiculous obsession, Tally. Marriage was never in the cards. You made a vow! Yes, but that was before you knew what the good parts entailed! Now that she knew, it was going to be a lot harder to keep to her plan.
A movement in a nearby window distracted her. She turned an absent glance that way and...
O mio Dio! Feeling suddenly faint, she plied her fan vigorously for several reviving moments. All her attention focused on that pane of glass. It couldn’t be! Surely Reed knew better than to peer into the window at her sister’s, at anyone’s, party! Hiding her horror, she smoothed her face into a pleasantly innocuous smile.
“If you’ll pardon me a moment, your husband is beckoning me over, she told her sister. “I’ll go see what he wants.” She hastened to dissemble when her sister began to turn around to see why her husband was summoning Tally. “Probably wishes to introduce me to someone.”
“He’s thoughtful that way.” Venetia smiled fondly and gave her sister a gentle push. “Go,” she said, turning back to Mr. Dubuc to continue their conversation.
Leaving them, she threaded her way through the clusters of guests, trying not to look too conspicuous. Perhaps she’d be able to sneak out the terrace doors and get to him before anyone saw him. His face was gone from the window, so she was hopeful. She’d almost made it, when she heard someone’s raised voice. “You there, what are you doing skulking around out there?”
Oh my goodness! He’d been discovered! She was about to be exposed! Branded a liar. Worse, a woman without morals. In front of all these people! Her sisters! Her whole family was going to be ruined alongside her.
Why, oh why, had she allowed Dr. Graham to convince her to engage in this charade?
She was swept along by the crowd converging near the door. Across the gathering, she spotted a tall, spar
e man gazing directly at her. The Baron! What poor timing. And Reed had told him they were leaving Town! He mustn’t see Reed or there was no chance of avoiding discovery!
She averted her eyes, ignoring him, as a lady who had never been introduced to a man should. She pushed free of the group and inched forward, trying to make herself invisible. She was fully expecting, at any moment, to see Reed pointing his finger at her and announcing that he was her husband. So she was stunned to see not Reed but Mr. Mason saunter through the French doors, the cynosure of all eyes, not a whit put out and looking like he belonged. His gaze touched on her, but never lingered. She exhaled unsteadily. Not by so much as a blink had he given her away.
But… what had happened to Reed?
While the crowd circled around Mr. Mason, who seemed more than willing to explain his unconventional arrival, she slipped outside.
“Over here!”
Startled, she almost squealed.
The stage whisper came from behind a large statue of some anonymous Greek deity, less than ten feet away. She forced herself to stroll slowly in that direction, striving to look as if she was merely out for some fresh air.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed when she was close enough to be heard, she hoped, only by him.
“I followed you to make sure you were safe.”
“You thought someone might attack me inside my sister’s home!” She was incredulous.
“No. I worried you might be attacked on the way. Once here, curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see if I recognized anyone in there.”
Tally felt queasy at the thought of Baron Morley.
“Perhaps I should come in and greet your family now that I’m here?” Reed suggested.
“No!” Realizing she’d overreacted, Tally tried for a calmer tone. “My family has never met you. Nor are you dressed for the occasion.” She wished she’d thought of the second reason first because she could see he was so astounded by her first reason, he hadn’t even heard the second one.
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 28
