Uncomfortable as she was with the whole thing, Aggie was forced to agree. The gown was of cream-colored satin embroidered with seed pearls. Its deep-cut neckline was surrounded by a delicate lace-edged ruffle - Brussels lace, thought Aggie, shuddering at the cost. The ruffle extended over the shoulders to make little sleeves and the skirt terminated in a row of the same lace which also formed the belt and dangled in two long ribbons down the back of the gown. It was an absolutely beautiful gown - very like the one in which she had made her own come out. But that gown and all her other good ones had been sold long ago to pay her father’s creditors. “It is far too costly a gown for a companion,” she said, her heart in her throat.
“Nonsense,” said Cecilie. “It is just the thing for you. And we shall have Millie put your hair up on top of your head - in all those little curls - and twist a string of pearls through it. Yes, that will be perfect. Just perfect.”
* * * *
As she stood before her cheval glass that evening Aggie felt like a different woman. The gown enhanced her rosy complexion and the rich sheen of her dark hair. She stifled an exclamation as she saw how deep the neckline delved, much more than that in the gown for her come out had. But of course she was now a mature woman, and, after all, this gown was not indecent. It certainly did not give her the look of a poverty-stricken companion, however, and for a moment she flushed as she considered what the whispering tongues would say. Her father’s affairs had been bruited about the ton and everyone was well aware that his daughter had little income. They knew she could not afford such a rich gown. People would say that she was putting herself forward. Well, there was little she could do about it. Denby was not a man to be gainsaid and it was clear that he intended her to have this gown.
Her eyes moved to where her dark hair was piled high in shining ringlets and threaded through with strands of gleaming pearls. The effect was quite beautiful, she thought, and spoke admiringly to Millie, whose smile reflected her joy in the praise.
Cecilie, who had been slipping into her gown, turned as Aggie entered her room. “Oh my!” she breathed. “It’s an absolute stopper!”
Aggie halted in embarrassment, wondering for the hundredth time where Cecilie acquired these additions to her vocabulary.
“Oh, Aggie, if only someone could see you now!” Cecilie cried.
The color fled Aggie’s cheeks immediately and she sent Cecilie a warning glance. She did not want her story circulated among the help, but her pallor was not entirely caused by that. In a few moments, the person Cecilie was speaking of would see her. She would be facing the Earl. And how would this gown affect him?
She turned her attention to Cecilie. Of pale blue silk with long narrow sleeves and a fashionably high bodice, her gown emphasized Cecilie’s fair coloring. “You look quite beautiful,” Aggie said.
Cecilie shrugged, but her eyes reflected excitement. “One never knows. Perhaps tonight we will see my future husband.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Aggie. She looked Cecilie over carefully. Her fair hair cascaded in a fall of curls from high on the back of her head - what Millie called the antique Roman style. It was very becoming and Cecilie, with her flushed face and sparkling eyes, made a very attractive picture.
Aggie smiled. “I expect we’d better get downstairs. His lordship doesn’t like to be late, you know. And besides, Kemble is a great actor. I should hate to miss any of the performance myself.”
Cecilie nodded and, accepting her shawl and gloves from the waiting maid, gave one last pat to Dillydums and followed Aggie to the stairs.
Aggie paused at the top to let Cecilie precede her. She had no wish to feel the Earl’s gray eyes surveying her as she descended the great stairs. She might do something ridiculous like trip on her gown and she didn’t want that to happen. Tonight she felt very regal and she wanted to preserve the feeling as long as possible.
The Earl emerged from the library just as they reached the bottom of the stairs. His corbeau-colored coat fit snugly across his broad shoulders and his inexpressibles molded a perfect pair of legs. His waistcoat was white satin and his intricately tied cravat was a thing of beauty. His eyes swept over them both and Aggie felt the blood racing to her cheeks. “Well, Miss Winthrop,” he said to Cecilie, “what do you think of Miss Trimble’s gown?”
Cecilie gave him a broad smile. “I think it’s a real stunner,” she proclaimed enthusiastically. “You must have had a lot of experience in choosing gowns.”
Aggie’s flush deepened. Of course Denby had had his share of inamoratas. What lord hadn’t? And probably, as was the custom, he had bought them gowns. But Cecilie was not supposed to know about such things.
For the briefest moment Denby’s eyes darkened, then his brows relaxed and he spoke to Cecilie in a very even tone, as though he had realized that her remark was truly innocent. “Actually, this is my first excursion into the business of dressmaking.” He flashed a look at Aggie, but she evaded it. “Madame Dimond was very helpful.”
Aggie kept her eyes averted. She knew very well that there was no coincidence in the fact that the dresses he had bought her resembled those she had once owned and danced in with him, but she did not intend to let that change her mind about him.
The Earl offered them each an arm and soon they were settled in the carriage, Aggie still slightly breathless from that brief contact with him.
The drive to Covent Garden was occupied with small talk between the Earl and Cecilie. Occasionally Aggie was asked for her opinion on some matter, but the rest of the time she sat silent, contemplating the look in his eyes as he had gazed down at her. But soon they were at the theater and she had no time for remembering. The street was busy, coaches and horses everywhere, orange girls and playbill sellers hawking their wares. The crush was perhaps not so great as it had been at Drury Lane. Still, there were a great many people and Aggie again bethought herself of the clacking of vicious tongues. But it was far too late to worry about that kind of thing and with her head high she took the arm the Earl offered and went forward through the crowd.
The street was full, but very shortly he had succeeded in guiding them through the throng and into the building. Once inside it was a matter of a few minutes to reach his box, obviously one of the best in the house.
Again Denby stationed himself between her and Cecilie and again Aggie wished he had not. With him so near she was having trouble maintaining her pose of cool calmness. In truth, she felt like the greenest of girls, a chit barely out of the schoolroom. It was ridiculous for a woman of her age to behave like such a ninny. Very foolish.
She set herself to looking out over the pit. Here and there a fop raised a quizzing glass, but Aggie coldly stared him down. She smiled wryly. Anyone who had been examined by the Earl’s stony gray eyes could withstand the worst kind of quizzing.
The curtain soon rose and Aggie watched the great Kemble in admiration. He did not seem to have changed much in the five years since she had last seen him, though some of his gestures did seem a little too theatrically dramatic. But that, perhaps, was the effect of having seen Mr. Kean. Aggie tried to remember what the latest reviews had said. There was some kind of rivalry between the two men - with Kean representing Nature and Kemble representing Art. Aggie was not sure which actor she most enjoyed, but she did wish she might see Mr. Kean do Hamlet so as to have a clearer ground of comparison.
The Earl watched in silence, his face set in expressionless lines; and when, from time to time, she glanced at him, he seemed lost in thought.
As the intermission neared, Aggie found she was growing uncomfortable. And when the curtain fell, she realized why. She did not want the Earl to leave the box and seek out Lady Alicia, as he had done at Drury Lane. But of course she had no way to stop him and no right to do so. She forced her features to remain set in calmness.
But the Earl did not seem inclined to move. He sat quite still, chatting politely with Cecilie, his former somber expression no longer in evidence. Perhaps, thought Aggie, Lady Alic
ia was not in the theater. She had not seen her before the curtain went up, but of course she could have come in late, as the fashionables so often did. Quite casually Aggie allowed her eyes to roam over the boxes filled with richly dressed nobility. But she did not find Lady Alicia in any of them. Slowly Aggie let herself relax. It looked like tonight, at least, she would be spared the lady’s insults.
At that moment the door in the back of the box opened and a gay feminine voice called out, “Denby, my love, how good to see you!”
Aggie fought the panic that threatened her as Lady Alicia swept into the box. She was wearing a gown of silver lame. Like all her gowns it fit like a second skin and its deep neckline revealed an ample expanse of white bosom where diamonds flashed. Aggie swallowed hastily, thinking that this gown made her own seem maidenly demure. The barest little straps of sleeves lying carelessly over Lady Alicia’s white shoulders supported the bodice rather precariously and the gown fell from it in a clinging way that emphasized every one of Lady Alicia’s numerous curves. Aggie felt like the dullest of creatures beside this sparkling gem.
“Good evening, Lady Alicia.” Denby’s voice was quite bland, but even in her agitation Aggie thought she detected a note of disapproval.
Lady Alicia wrinkled her aristocratic nose. “My, my, Denby, we are formal tonight.” Her red lips pouted kissably and Aggie found she was clenching her hands so tightly that the nails bit into her palms. How this woman could infuriate her!
The Earl smiled politely. “I believe you have met my ward, Miss Winthrop.” He turned to Cecilie. “And her companion. Miss Trimble.” He indicated Aggie.
Lady Alicia’s eyes rested objectively on Cecilie for a brief moment, but when they swung toward Aggie, their greenness turned quite cold. The lady nodded. “Yes, we have
met.”
“Really, Alicia,” drawled a male voice from behind her. “You are neglecting me most dreadfully.”
Aggie looked up in surprise. So taken had she been with Lady Alicia’s presence and the feelings it raised in her that she had not even noticed that a man had entered with her.
“Now, Henry.” Lady Alicia turned her pouty smile on the newcomer. “Don’t be a ninny.” She extended a slim white bejeweled hand and the man advanced into the box. “You know Henry, Lord Gale,” she said to Denby.
The Earl nodded. “We are acquainted.” Again Aggie heard that strange tone in his voice, but she could not quite decide what it indicated.
The newcomer nodded briefly to Denby, let his eyes flick over Aggie with a kind of cool disinterest, and turned a dazzling smile on Cecilie. “So, this vision of loveliness is the celebrated Miss Winthrop. I declare, my dear one, who can see anyone else when you are present?”
Cecilie’s eyes sparkled at the compliment, but Aggie saw the Earl’s lips tighten in a grim line. As Lord Gale continued his effusive compliments, Aggie watched him covertly. It would not have taken the Earl’s look of displeasure to convince her that this Bond Street fribble was not good husband material. His breeches of pale blue above white silk stockings were certainly not standard theater garb. But beyond that, this waistcoat of lemon yellow contrasted none too favorably with his pink coat. Aggie looked closely, but there was no denying it. Lord Gale’s coat was pink. And Lord Gale’s hair, hanging in pomaded ringlets that could not be other than artificially produced, was red - a bright vibrant red.
Aggie suppressed a grimace of distaste. This man was an exquisite who obviously thought he cast everyone else into the shade, one of those Bond Street beaux who misinterpreted Beau Brummell’s advice on looking well-dressed. Aggie could remember her father saying more than once that the Beau’s ideal was cleanliness and elegance, not the foppery which made this man a spectacle.
But her attention was diverted from the elegant Lord Gale by the sweetly coaxing tones of Lady Alicia. “Dear Denby, do come for a stroll with me in the lobby. It’s so dull just sitting here.”
Aggie found she was holding her breath, but she let it out slowly as the Earl shook his head. “No, Alicia, I don’t wish to walk
now.”
“Oh, Denby.” Lady Alicia pouted in that delicious way of hers and bent low, revealing a great deal of bosom. And not unintentionally, thought Aggie, gritting her teeth. “Don’t be so dull.”
The Earl’s tone was unfailingly polite. “Alicia, I do not wish to leave the box right now. Please understand that.”
Lady Alicia flounced a little and drew back. “Very well, my love.” Then she turned and smiled at Denby again. “I’ll see you later.”
The Earl made no answer to this and Lady Alicia moved out of the box, her hips in the tight lame gown swaying provocatively.
Aggie’s attention was now free to return to Cecilie, who was beaming up at Lord Gale and listening avidly to the extravagant compliments he was paying her. Aggie cast a sidelong glance at the Earl. His face was set in blank lines, but she detected a telltale quiver in the muscle by his jaw. Denby was no more pleased than she to have this male milliner lisping over Cecilie. Glancing down, she saw his hands, which were lying on top of his well-muscled legs, clench and unclench spasmodically. Plainly, Denby was disturbed by Lord Gale’s advances to Cecilie, but also, plainly, he was trying to contain his anger. Was he remembering, Aggie wondered, the information she had given him? Was he remembering that she had told him that the surest way to get Cecilie interested in a man was to forbid her to see him? Taking another glance at his face, Aggie wondered how long he could hold himself in check. She supposed that his lordship had not often had occasion to restrain himself. Men in positions of power such as his were frequently unused to having anyone obstruct their desires.
Finally, to her great relief, the curtain rose again. Lord Gale bowed low over Cecilie’s outstretched fingers, his red curls bobbing in what seemed to Aggie a ludicrous fashion. “So, my adorable one, I must leave you now and return to my companions. Ah, if only I had known that tonight I would find my happiness, I would have come to the theater alone. Adieu, my sweet.”
Aggie saw Denby’s lip curl as he was forced to hear this affected farewell. She herself found it quite distasteful. But Cecilie seemed pleased by it. “Adieu, Lord Gale,” she said and, as he left the box, she sent after him a radiant smile.
Dear God, Aggie thought. Surely Cecilie could not have formed an affection for such a worthless popinjay? She bit her bottom lip to keep from saying anything.
Cecilie turned back to them. “Well,” she said enthusiastically, “the evening was not a total loss. What an entertaining man.” As she spoke she turned to the Earl, seeming to invite his comment.
Aggie thought his eyes seemed a trifle glazed, almost as though the effort to curb his real opinion on the matter was too much for him, but when he spoke, his tone was even, though a trifle dry. “Yes, indeed, a very entertaining fellow.”
When Cecilie would have followed this with more effusions on Lord Gale, Aggie interfered, whispering that since she very much wished to hear the rest of Mr. Kemble’s performance, would Cecilie please, wait till later to discuss this new acquaintance.
Cecilie acquiesced quite nicely, returning her gaze to the stage, and Aggie sensed the tension slowly draining from the big man beside her. As it did, she herself relaxed and let herself enjoy the play. After all, Cecilie had just met this court card. Probably he would see someone else and quite forget about her. And with this consoling thought she devoted her attention to the play.
Fortunately, the afterpiece was such a funny piece of foolishness that the journey home was devoted to discussing it. So when the Earl stopped at the bottom of the great stairs, he was still in a relaxed humor and he wished Cecilie a pleasant good night. Cecilie smiled blithely and with her best manners thanked him for an interesting evening at the theater before she tripped gaily up the stairs to see to her darling Dillydums.
Aggie offered her thanks quickly and turned to follow, but was detained by the Earl’s, “A moment, Miss Trimble.”
“Yes, milord.” She
did not want to look up into his eyes and yet she did.
“Do you suppose she could really form an attachment for that young fool?” he asked quietly.
Aggie shook her head. “I should like to say that it is impossible, milord, but I cannot. The only thing we can do now is wait. If we say nothing -” She shrugged. “Cecilie may well tire of him. Also, he may forget her.”
Denby’s jaw stiffened. “I doubt that,” he said grimly. “I’ve heard of young Gale. He’s in a bad way financially. He needs an heiress of Cecilie’s caliber. Also, if he thinks he can bamboozle her later as he did tonight with all those nauseating compliments...” He shook his head. “If he offers for her, I’ll have to refuse him. I can’t in good conscience let her marry such a wastrel.”
Aggie’s heart overflowed with compassion for him. Whatever had come between them, he was obviously doing his very best for Cecilie and that was not at all easy. Without thinking, Aggie laid a hand on his sleeve. “Don’t get yourself upset yet, milord. It will all work out. And I will do what I can -indirectly, of course - to channel Cecilie’s affections in some other direction.” She sighed heavily. “If only some acceptable man would present himself.” She smiled slightly. “Acceptable to you and to Cecilie.”
The Earl smiled, too. “We shall just have to wait until he does.” His fingers covered the hand that rested on his sleeve and Aggie, aware suddenly of the danger of touching him so familiarly, tried to draw it back. But he captured and kept it. “I want to thank you, Aggie, for your help.” His eyes grew warm as he gazed down at her. “I have been ungrateful at times - and rather overbearing, I fear.” He smiled ruefully. “But Cecilie is rather an unusual girl and I am new at the guardian business.”
Aggie nodded, but her thoughts were not on his words. He was standing so close, she was so terribly conscious of his physical presence. Even worse, she was aware of a deep yearning within herself, a yearning to throw herself into the arms that were so close to her. She swayed slightly toward him and for a fraction of a second it seemed that he might reach out for her, but suddenly he dropped her hand and took a step backward. “Good night, Aggie. Sleep well.” And then, with another warm smile, he turned away, leaving her to climb the stairs and to tell herself, not very convincingly, that she was quite pleased he hadn’t kissed her. After all, she did not want to go through that again.
A Matter of Honor Page 15
