Denby paused again in front of Cecilie’s chair and regarded her angrily. “I suppose you think yourself quite smart to have so easily shed an unwanted suitor.”
Cecilie made no answer to this and Aggie thanked God for it. It was best not to trifle with the Earl when he was in such a rage.
“Well,” he continued bitterly, “you are quite mistaken. First, you could have reported to me that your impressions of the man had not changed and then I should have conveyed that to the Marquess, as diplomatically as possible - with little pain or embarrassment on either side. Now the idiot is apt to go babbling all round London about Denby’s ward who has a screw loose upstairs.”
“There is nothing wrong with my understanding,” Cecilie said crisply. “And I can hardly be blamed if the Marquess is so enamored of his blunt that the thought of spending a little of it throws him into hysteria. He left here so fast one would have thought that we were after his life’s blood.”
The Earl did not find this amusing. “You might have considered that having your name bandied about as an eccentric is not likely to enhance your chances in the marriage mart.”
“I am not eccentric,” said Cecilie. “I merely prefer loving animals to loving money-hungry humans. There is certainly nothing strange about that.”
The Earl regarded her grimly. “I am not convinced that you were not rude to the man. I have known Connors for a long time and I have never known him to be in such a state.”
Aggie felt that the time had come for her to speak. She much doubted that he would listen, but she had her responsibility in the matter. “Cecilie was not rude,” she said quietly. Her first words drew his eyes, but she managed to return his gaze. “She was perhaps a little overly enthusiastic concerning the quantity of animals she would like to have, but she was also truthful. She has always wished for a large estate and a great number of pets.” With every word she spoke the Earl’s face darkened further, but she persisted. “I must agree with you that her behavior was unfortunate. However, this was a moment for truth. And since the opinion of her future husband on this subject is of obvious concern to her, and, since he invited her questions, I believe she was within her rights to respond. She need not, however, have frightened him.” Here she directed a severe look at Cecilie, whose demure expression could not quite hide the triumph in her eyes.
For a long moment the Earl glared at them both. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders eloquently. “You have won this round,” he said to Cecilie. “Just take care that you do not scare away all the eligible connections. For that, I would remind you, would result in your spending the rest of your days in my establishment - a prospect which I fear would greatly shorten my life span!” Then, with one more glare at each of them, he stamped off, obviously in high dudgeon.
Aggie felt her shoulders sagging. All her energy seemed to have drained away. More than anything in this world she longed to find Cecilie a suitable husband. She must do so, she told herself wearily as they started up the stairs, because she did not know how much longer she could bear the strain of living in the same household with a man who alternated between fits of rage and attacks on her honor.
Chapter Nine
The next day passed very quietly. Aggie felt listless and tired: the aftermath, she knew, of the turmoil over Cecilie’s behavior to the Marquess. Cecilie herself was subdued, moving about quietly and speaking softly to the monkey. But gradually her spirits seemed to revive and she grew more cheerful.
Considering the Earl’s last outburst, Aggie was unsure if they would even be going to Drury Lane as planned. She thought about asking Bates if he knew. Since her intervention for him with Denby the old butler had been greeting her with friendly smiles. Still, she did not like to ask such questions. Fortunately, however, Bates came to her late in the day to announce, “His lordship asked me to remind you of your theater engagement for tomorrow evening. He asks that you be ready early because he dislikes missing the first act.”
Aggie nodded. She had a feeling that the message had been considerably softened in the transition. “Thank you, Bates. Do you happen to know what the play is?”
“I believe Mr. Kean is appearing as Iago in Othello,” replied Bates with a small smile. “A capital performer, Mr. Kean. He has taken the city by storm. I see him myself whenever I can.”
“Thank you, Bates. I am sure we’ll enjoy
it.”
So before they went to bed that night she and Cecilie spent some time before the wardrobe. Aggie’s choice was simple. She had already worn the peach silk, now she would wear the green lame. But Cecilie had so many new gowns that the choice was difficult. Finally she chose one of pale lavender net over a darker satin slip. Watching, Aggie was grateful that Denby had been present at the ordering of these gowns. At least she was spared any worry over the propriety of Cecilie’s dress. Idly, she wondered what sort of mood he would be in the next evening.
She had not seen him since he had stomped off after confronting Cecilie and she was just as glad. When he was angry, he was very difficult to deal with. And when he was not, when he looked at her with tenderness in his eyes... She pushed the thought away. There could be no tenderness between herself and the Earl; he had destroyed that possibility long ago.
The next evening, as she helped Cecilie into the lavender gown, Aggie tried not to think that soon she would be greeting the Earl. She meant to keep her full attention on Cecilie’s toilette. The lavender gown fit well. Its V-shaped neck was sufficiently high to please the Earl and yet low enough to make Cecilie feel grown-up. Bands of black velvet ribbon crisscrossed the high bodice and trimmed the little cap sleeves. Cecilie looked enchanting.
“Hurry, Aggie. I want to see you in your new gown.”
As one of the silent maids stepped forward to help her, Aggie wished the evening well over. She was no longer accustomed to the quizzing of the beaux and exquisites and, not only that, she would probably also have to face the stares of a great many ladies who envied her her position in his lordship’s household. It was clear enough by now that the Earl was considered a very good catch -whether by a wife or a lightskirt.
The light-green dress fell in soft folds around her. She stood in front of the cheval glass and suddenly she started. This gown! She had had a gown like this then, almost the identical color and of a very similar cut. It had had the same rounded décolletage a l’enfant, the short fitted sleeves embroidered in thread of the same shade, the close-fitting bodice with a high waist, and a short train behind. This gown was practically identical to one she had worn as she whirled round the ballrooms in his arms. Could he have remembered the gown so completely? It seemed incredible.
As the maid Millie led her to a seat and began to coax her hair into the style now called a la Madonna, with a center part and loose curls flowing from the crown of the head, Aggie fought to regain her composure. It must simply be coincidence. That was the only way to account for it. She would give it no more thought.
But that was easier said than done and when Millie pronounced herself satisfied with the effect of miss’s hair and Aggie rose to take out her mama’s opals, the only jewels she had managed to save, she saw that her hands trembled. What could he mean by ordering her such a gown? It seemed to make no sense. Why should he want to remind her of the awful thing he had done?
She finally managed to fasten the necklace and fix the earbobs in place. Then she turned to pick up her best cashmere and her white kid gloves. They were old now, but still quite good. She had not worn them much in the last years.
She took one more look at Cecilie. “You look very nice, my dear. That color suits you.”
“I feel quite elegant,” replied Cecilie, her eyes sparkling. “If only I could waltz tonight.”
Since they were going to the theater, Aggie ignored this. Cecilie knew quite well that until she was offered a cherished voucher for Almack’s she could not waltz in public; there was no need to remind her.
They reached the bottom of the great stairs just as
Denby emerged from the library. In his coat of black superfine with covered buttons, white marcella waistcoat, black silk breeches and stockings, and black pumps, he made an imposing figure. But Aggie’s gaze did not linger on his clothes; it was the expression on his face that most concerned her. She looked directly at his eyebrows; they were separated by a respectable distance and his eyes were not cloudy with anger. Indeed, they seemed to regard her with considerable warmth. She found this almost as disconcerting as his rage.
“Good evening, ladies.” His tone was certainly mellow enough, and there was no trace of dissatisfaction on his face as he surveyed them.
“Good evening, milord.” Cecilie’s tone was even, but Aggie feared that her own seemed rather timid.
“I see that the gown fits admirably,” said Denby. His eyes met hers quickly and it seemed to her as though they held a question.
“Yes,” she replied. “It’s a lovely color. And I like the pattern.” She did not know why she added that last; perhaps to see if his eyes would change. And they seemed to. Did he want to know if she remembered the other gown? She hoped he would not ask her in front of Cecilie. If the girl ever learned that Denby had jilted her companion... A shiver ran over Aggie as she realized how implacably such information would turn Cecilie against her guardian.
Denby turned to Cecilie. “Perhaps we shall get some offers after tonight,” he said. “You look quite lovely.”
Cecilie nodded demurely. “Thank you, milord. I look forward to seeing Mr. Kean.”
Denby smiled. “He is quite the rage these days. Everyone throngs to see him.” He turned again to Aggie. “I’m sure you will enjoy Kean. His talent is considerable.” His eyes were warm as he smiled down upon her.
“I have always liked Othello,” she heard herself saying.
“Good.” Without further words Denby took the cashmere from over her arm and shawled her. As he did so his gloved fingers brushed the back of her neck ever so lightly. A sensation like liquid fire ran down her spine. Fortunately he could not see her face and by the time he had come round to shawl Cecilie she had regained her composure. Then with a smile at each he offered them his arms and escorted them to the carriage.
Soon they were comfortably seated. “Are you aware of the story of Othello?” Denby asked Cecilie. His tone was quite pleasant and Aggie hoped that Cecilie would not take objection to it.
“Yes, milord, I am.” Cecilie’s smile indicated that she forgave him for asking such a question. “Aggie and I read most of the plays of Shakespeare.” She twisted the blond curl that lay on her shoulder. “But the story of Othello is so sad. I like the comedies better, where things come to a good end and people are happy.”
Denby sighed, his eyes clouding over suddenly. “At times the world is sad and things do not come to the good ends that we wish for.” Here he gave Aggie such a look of longing that the blood rushed to her cheeks and she turned hastily away lest Cecilie see and guess the truth.
But the girl was deep in her own thoughts and took no notice. “Why was Othello so stupidly suspicious?” she asked. “Why couldn’t he believe Desdemona?”
Denby sighed again. “Where love is concerned,” he said, “men are often stupid. And women, too.”
Aggie felt these last words were directed to her, but she steadfastly refused to turn back from the window, though she saw little of the London streets, blurred as they were by her tears. How could he talk this way? Almost as though she, and not he, had been the one to destroy their happiness. It was terribly unfair and if Cecilie had not been there, she might have been tempted by her unhappiness to tell him so. But she kept her tongue firmly between her teeth. Her business now was to get Cecilie safely married, not to be raking over old wounds.
Cecilie sighed, too. “I think what I have decided is right,” she said, causing Aggie to forget her resolve and turn from the window. “Love sounds far too painful a business for me,” she continued with a quaint seriousness that Aggie might have found amusing if the conversation had been about some other topic. “I believe I shall just avoid it altogether.”
Denby laughed, the bitter sound of a man in pain. “A commendable decision, Cecilie. Let us hope you stick by it.”
Aggie saw Cecilie glance at him curiously. Dear God, if she guessed something from his remarks -
“You sound like a man who has loved,” said Cecilie, her eyes on his face.
“The Earl has been on the town for some time now,” Aggie interjected quickly. “It is the fashion for the beaux to speak critically of love. Is it not, milord?” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand, not to let Cecilie know the truth.
For a moment he hesitated and then he summoned a smile. It was not reflected in his eyes, but perhaps Cecilie would not see that. “Miss Trimble is right,” he said in a cheerful tone. “You must not pay attention to our cynicism. Besides, we will find you a man for whom you have some partiality. Then you will learn, after the marriage, to love him.”
“I do not recall any of Shakespeare’s stories like that,” Cecilie said.
Aggie was momentarily grateful that they had not read The Taming of the Shrew. They were approaching Drury Lane by this time and so the Earl did not need to answer.
Cecilie, eager to see the crowds, had to be physically restrained from hanging out the window. “But Aggie,” she said, “just look at all the people! And all dressed in their best. Just look at them! Gems are shining everywhere.”
“Yes, Cecilie, I know. It is always like this,” Aggie replied. “Remember what I told you. People go to the theater to see and be
seen.”
The smile on Cecilie’s face told her companion that she was also remembering their conversation about having a place to go to choose a husband, but thankfully Cecilie did not mention that.
“Some people,” added his lordship dryly, “still go to the theater for the purpose of seeing the play. But they are a definite minority and need not be considered.”
“I suppose not,” agreed Cecilie, completely missing the irony of his statement. “Still, I shall rather enjoy seeing what I have read being acted out.”
The coachman had finally worked his way close to the porticoes. The Earl preceded them out and turned to give them assistance in descending. “Stay close to me,” he said as Cecilie reached the ground.
Moments later Aggie, too, had descended and he led them through the crowds into the rotunda. Cecilie’s eyes grew wide as she surveyed the two stories, the circular gallery that separated them, and the rich cupola with the chandelier dangling from it. Aggie smiled. Certainly the theater was a lovely sight, dazzling with its gilt and rich furnishings. She saw Cecilie’s glance go from the eight columns of the peristyle done in rich Siena marble, which supported the highly decorated entablature, to the right and left doorways flanked by Ionic columns of dark-colored porphyry.
The Earl’s box was one of the best in the theater, giving an excellent view of the stage. It also gave an excellent view of its occupants to the other patrons of the theater, but Aggie had no time to think of that. She turned to share Cecilie’s exclamations of wonder and surprise at the great size of the gilt-encrusted theater. This was made somewhat awkward by the fact that the Earl had put himself between the two women. This made him far closer than Aggie liked, but there was little she could do about it. If the Earl wanted to sit between them, he would. And if it made her uncomfortable to lean across him - as it most assuredly did - then she would simply have to bear it.
“Look! Look! Over there!” cried Cecilie. “See the fat lady with the tiara. And there, I see Lady Jersey.”
Aggie was glad to see that the Jersey was deep in conversation and did not seem to notice Denby. But then, a box just across the way was entered by several well-clad gentlemen, and among them, resplendent in emerald green silk and blazing with diamonds, came Lady Alicia Temple. The neck of her gown was cut so low that Aggie almost gasped when she saw it. It did not, however, seem to disturb the gentlemen flocking round, some of whom Aggi
e recognized as the scions of England’s best families. There was no other woman in the box. Was one of the men Lady Temple’s husband?
Cecilie, too, had noticed the commotion. “Look, Aggie,” she said, “there is Lady Alicia.”
Aggie nodded, finding the conversation rather trying, especially as the lady chose that moment to wave gaily and blow Denby a kiss.
Cecilie turned to him with curious eyes. “Which of the gentlemen is Lady Alicia’s husband?”
The Earl looked a trifle startled. “The lady has no husband,” he replied.
Cecilie’s delicate eyebrow rose. “No husband, milord? Then why has she no companion?”
Denby began to look uncomfortable and Aggie realized that her conception of Lady Alicia’s reputation had been rather accurate.
“The lady is a widow,” the Earl explained in discomfort. “She needs no companion.”
“And her guardian?” asked Cecilie in a tone that made Aggie somewhat edgy.
“She has no guardian.” Now Denby was definitely ill at ease. “Her husband doted on her, the old fool. And he left all her substance in her hands.”
“Really?” The look on Cecilie’s face increased Aggie’s nervousness. The girl seemed lost in thought for some minutes. Then she turned to the Earl. “I have decided - I want to be a widow.”
Denby, whose mind was not yet accustomed to the devious twistings of Cecilie’s thought, started as though pricked by a pin. “A widow?”
“Yes,” declared Cecilie. “Then I can manage my own affairs without interference from a husband.”
The Earl coughed suddenly, almost as though hiding a laugh. “There is a slight problem here. One must be a wife before one becomes a widow.”
“Can’t you find me a very old husband?” Cecilie asked innocently.
“Cecilie!” Aggie cried. “How can you? You must live with this man.”
A Matter of Honor Page 10
