by Amanda Scott
Lord Thomas Colby was tall, rather thin, and dressed with elegant taste in pale yellow pantaloons, a striped waistcoat, and a well-cut coat of rich brown velvet. His shirt points were just high enough to impede free movement of his head, and his neckcloth was intricately arranged in a style he called the Colby Twist. Nevertheless, broad shoulders, well-developed thigh muscles, and a certain athletic grace kept Catheryn from mistaking him for a dandy. She suspected instead that, like Dambroke, he was a member of the Corinthian set.
The gentlemen returned to their conversation as she took her seat beside the countess. “Thank you for lending Fowler to me, Aunt Elizabeth. She is remarkable.”
The countess smiled. “I am happy she was of service, dear. We shall have to see about getting you some decent clothes. Perhaps we can visit the shops tomorrow.”
“That would be wonderful, ma’am, but I’m afraid I am putting you to a great deal of trouble.”
“Nonsense. It will amuse me.”
Catheryn hesitated to accept the countess’s generosity without word from her uncle regarding future access to her own fortune, but she decided it would be unworthy of her to argue against the proposed shopping expedition when her hostess showed such enthusiasm. Perhaps once his lordship spoke to Sir Horace, arrangements could be made to repay her. She noticed that Tiffany was still observing the gentlemen from under lowered lashes and decided to bring her into the conversation.
“Lady Tiffany will accompany us, will she not, ma’am? She has promised to help me achieve a creditable appearance.”
Startled, Tiffany turned to them. “I beg your pardon? Oh, of course! Tomorrow?” A flush crept up her cheeks when she realized she was speaking too loudly. Both gentlemen stopped talking and looked at her, one rather grimly and the other with the conscious expression a gentleman dons when he believes a lady is attempting to command his attention.
Colby stepped forward and executed a graceful bow to the countess. “I beg your pardon, my lady, for our atrocious manners. We were discussing a horse we saw at Tart’s, and I fear we’ve been guilty of neglecting you. Pray forgive us.”
Waving him to a seat, the countess informed both men that they were forgiven. “For you know, Lord Thomas, that when one takes potluck, one is not expected to do the polite. We are en famille, my dear, and wish you to be comfortable.”
He smiled. “Thank you, my lady. Did I hear you planning an expedition?” he inquired with a hopeful look.
It was Tiffany who answered, curtly, “Only shopping, Colby. Nothing to interest you.” A gasp from her mother must have brought her to her senses, if the look of warning in her brother’s eye did not. The flush deepened. She spread her hands. “Now it seems it is I who must apologize, my lord. I have been a trifle out of sorts today and have the headache a little, but I should not have spoken as I did. We, that is, my mother and I, are taking Catheryn to visit the shops. She has been in the country and must replenish her wardrobe.”
“I see. I’m sorry you are not feeling quite the thing, my lady, but a good night’s rest will perk you up. If you are at all like my sisters, you’ll enjoy your shopping tremendously and use Miss Westering’s needs as an excuse to make some outrageous purchases of your own.” He laughed at his little joke and, since Paulson chose that moment to announce dinner, quite failed to notice that he laughed alone.
Conversation at the table was general, topics ranging from the weather to the war in the Peninsula to the activities of Parliament and the controversial Prime Minister, Spenser Perceval. Lady Tiffany seemed to have recovered her poise and carried her part in the discussions easily.
Catheryn enjoyed the dinner. Realizing that she could safely leave the bulk of conversation to the others, she managed to look interested in the various topics presented while, at the same time, indulging herself in private thought. She decided that the contretemps between the earl and his willful sister must indeed have been a serious one. Certainly, she had noted tension in the drawing room even before Lord Thomas’s unfortunate remark. She wondered also about Lord Thomas. That he was interested in Lady Tiffany was clear, as clear as her ladyship’s indifference to him. Would Dambroke support a match despite his sister’s opposition? Perhaps there was scope for her talents here. Encouraged as he must be by his mother’s attitudes and his sister’s behavior, the earl certainly seemed capable of developing tyrannical tendencies, if he had not done so already. Unchecked, he would become quite the king of his castle! And Catheryn had not dealt with a cantankerous grandfather all those years to no purpose. Perhaps this visit, though not exactly what she had sought, would prove to be very interesting after all.
With the last course removed, the countess signaled that it was time to leave the two gentlemen to their port and adjourned to the yellow drawing room. “I was pleased to see you in better spirits, my love,” she said to her daughter as they seated themselves in their customary places.
“I was afraid Richard would send me from the table if I was rude again,” Tiffany answered frankly. “I think he nearly sent me away before!”
“Well, I should not have been surprised. Such a way to speak to Lord Thomas, my dear!”
Tiffany tossed her head. “I apologized for that. Besides, he is forever pressing his company upon us. If Richard thinks to marry me off to that odious man….”
“Surely not,” the countess laughed. “Oh, Tiffany, Lord Thomas is a charming lad but a gazetted fortune hunter as well. He will inherit very little from his father, you know. Unless, of course, something happens to his brother, which you must admit is unlikely. And six sisters to be provided for, you know. A drain upon any fortune.” Noting Catheryn’s bewilderment, she explained, “Lord Thomas is the younger son of the Duke of Clairdon. The estates are entailed, of course, so he must marry an heiress. But not you, Tiffany dear. Dambroke has said he will not allow you to marry anyone until—” She caught her tongue. “Well not for some time yet,” she ended lamely.
“He probably said not till I learn conduct and economy, or some such nonsense,” Tiffany stated bitterly. Since there seemed to be no acceptable reply to this observation, they sat in silence for some moments before Tiffany, with another shake of her curls, asked, “How can Richard encourage Lord Thomas to haunt the place, when he makes such a fuss about poor Mr. Lawrence being a fortune hunter? And how could Colby make such a remark after all Richard said this morning!”
“Mr. Lawrence is a particular friend of Tiffany’s,” the countess explained in an aside to Catheryn. “Lord Thomas hardly haunts the place, Tiffany. We have not seen him in more than a fortnight. And his birth must always recommend him, where Mr. Lawrence’s does not. Mr. Lawrence, after all, is a younger son of a younger son of nobody in particular and has very little to recommend him.” Tiffany looked mutinous, but the countess pressed on. “As for Colby’s unfortunate remark, he knows nothing of your interview with Dambroke and cannot be blamed on that score. I do not precisely understand myself why his remark unsettled you so.”
“Unsettled me! I should think so! Teasing me about outrageous purchases when Richard has practically forbidden me to do any shopping at all!”
The countess laughed. “Come, come, Tiffany, surely you exaggerate. In his worst temper, Dambroke would never do such a thing.”
“Oh no! He sent back everything I purchased today and said I must live on twenty-five pounds a month, which amounts to the same thing, I assure you. And that is no laughing matter, Miss Westering!”
Indeed, Catheryn was unsuccessfully trying to stifle her ready laughter. Taking a deep breath, she looked ruefully at her indignant cousin and begged her pardon, explaining that twenty-five pounds a month seemed a large sum to her.
“Well, it will not seem so once you have visited Bond Street. This gown cost nearly eighty pounds, and it is only a simple afternoon dress, after all!”
Catheryn gasped in dismay and turned to Lady Dambroke. “Surely not, ma’am! It is unthinkable that you should spend so much on me. I had no idea!”
> “It is quite unnecessary to upset yourself, child. I explained your need for proper clothes to Dambroke, and he has agreed to stand the nonsense himself. It will cost me nothing but my time, which I give most willingly.”
“But I cannot allow him to pay my bills!” Catheryn cried. “That would be unseemly of me indeed.”
“Don’t be silly, my dear. You have cast yourself on his protection, and he has agreed to give it. This is mere quibbling, but if it will make you feel better, they are my bills he will be paying, not yours.” Lady Dambroke dismissed the subject a bit impatiently and turned back to her daughter. “Are you certain he said you are to have no more than twenty-five pounds, Tiffany? It seems very harsh. He knows you cannot keep up your appearance on such a paltry sum.”
Tiffany bit her lower lip. “Well, he said I should come to him if I need anything, and he will discuss it with me. I suppose he looks upon the twenty-five pounds as pin money. But it is unfair and humiliating!”
“There, I knew it!” declared Lady Dambroke. “You are simply out of charity with him. If you are sensible and use a little tact, you will not find him ungenerous.”
“Piffle!” Tiffany scorned. “He only said we would discuss things. You know how he likes to exert his authority! He was even more outrageous about James Lawrence.”
“But how on earth did Mr. Lawrence come into it?”
Tiffany bit her lip again and looked as though she wished she had not mentioned Mr. Lawrence. But the countess seemed prepared to await her answer. “Oh, very well, it was a bill from Madame Louise for a domino.”
“And what, may I ask, did you need with a domino?”
“There is a masqued ball at Vauxhall tonight and—”
“A public masquerade at Vauxhall Gardens! Oh, my dear, how could you! And with Mr. Lawrence, of all people!”
“Please, Mama, I have heard all I wish to hear about it, I assure you. As you see, I did not go. Richard sent a note—probably a rude note—to Mr. Lawrence.”
The countess sighed and turned back to Catheryn. “I am afraid this cannot interest you, my dear.” Catheryn only blinked, thinking it would be impolite to contradict her. “Tell me, Catheryn, do you ride?”
“Of course, ma’am. I enjoy it very much.”
“Splendid! I do not care for the exercise myself, but Tiffany often takes early rides in Hyde Park. Her groom accompanies her, of course, but I should be easier in my mind if she had you with her as well.”
“But, Mama, there is no other lady’s mount in our stables. Richard must send to the Park for one.”
“Nonsense, dear. Teddy’s horse will take a sidesaddle, I’m sure. You are not planning to race, after all. You will make Catheryn think you do not desire her company.” Having surprised a look of dismay on the younger girl’s face when the suggestion was first made, Catheryn had already drawn that conclusion for herself.
“Not at all!” Tiffany protested hastily. “Please don’t think me so rag-mannered as that, Catheryn. I should enjoy your company. Truly!” And there the matter was allowed to rest as conversation drifted to more general topics.
IV
EARLY NEXT MORNING CATHERYN bounced out of bed like a child looking forward to a treat, dressed quickly in her old brown velvet habit, and hurried downstairs where, with the help of a friendly housemaid, she found her cousin in the breakfast parlor. Elegantly attired in a deep red habit perfectly molded to her figure, Tiffany sat munching an apple she had not bothered to slice. She smiled.
“Good morning, Catheryn. Help yourself. Breakfast won’t be served until later, but I like a bite before I go.”
Catheryn took an orange. She would have preferred to have her breakfast but was determined to encourage Tiffany’s present mood. Judging her impatient to be off, Catheryn ate quickly and was therefore surprised when Tiffany led the way to the rear of the house. “Does not your groom bring your mount round to the front, Cousin?” she inquired.
“Why, of course, Catheryn, in the normal way of things,” Tiffany called back over her shoulder. “But I had a notion to please you, and so we go to the stables.”
“I beg your pardon!”
Tiffany laughed ruefully. “That did not come out quite right. But you’ll see.” They crossed the garden to the high wall, and Tiffany pushed open a gate leading into the mews. A few moments later she pointed out Teddy’s horse, and Catheryn gazed with something approaching awe at the ancient nag.
“A fine gentle animal, miss,” stated the stableman. “Shall I be saddling ’im along o’ yer Angel, my lady?” Catheryn’s attention was thus diverted to another stall where a stableboy was placing a sidesaddle on a dainty white Arabian.
“Oh, Tiffany! Is she yours?”
“Yes. Isn’t she lovely?”
“Beautiful.” Catheryn walked over and held out her hand to the mare, who nuzzled it gently.
“Catheryn, do you ride very well?”
Catheryn chuckled. “Well enough to manage that slug! He must be all of fifteen years.”
“Sixteen,” Tiffany answered absently. “But I’m serious. I mean, do you ride really well?”
Puzzled, Catheryn answered, “Well, I suppose I do. I’ve sat my grandfather’s hunters and racers since I could walk.”
Tiffany nodded and turned decisively to the stableman. “Place a sidesaddle on Chieftain, Hobbs. My cousin has no wish to ride Old Cloud.” The man hesitated. “Don’t dawdle, man. Miss Westering is an excellent rider and we are late already.”
“I doubt he will take a lady’s saddle, my lady.”
“Nonsense. Dambroke proved not long since that he would. For a wager,” she added.
Catheryn interrupted quickly. “Tiffany, you cannot mean for me to ride Lord Dambroke’s horse! I’m certain he would never allow it!”
“Piffle! Richard will not care.” Ignoring Hobbs’s look of consternation, she continued, “You would only plod along on Old Cloud, and Chieftain is well-behaved. I wouldn’t let you ride Blaze, of course.” She indicated a huge black stallion tossing his head in a corner stall. “Even Richard has difficulties with him in town.”
Catheryn protested weakly but allowed herself to be persuaded. Hesitant as she was to ride his lordship’s horse, she knew the old gelding would offer no sport at all; nevertheless, she nearly had second thoughts when she was helped into the saddle. Big and well-muscled, Chieftain showed a decided aversion to skirts, and she had no time to arrange hers before he made his first effort to unseat her. Hobbs and the stableboy leaped to her aid. By grasping the reins and cocking her leg securely, Catheryn managed to settle herself properly, then called to the men to stand back. Chieftain danced and skittered nervously but made no serious attempt to dislodge her and, at last, stood docilely.
“You’ll do, miss,” Hobbs stated approvingly.
“Yes, I believe I shall,” she replied with a smile. He seems to mind me well enough. Where is Bert?”
He emerged at that moment from the stable leading a short-legged bay lent him by one of the grooms. Tiffany’s man helped her to mount and they were soon trotting toward the gates of Hyde Park. It was a glorious morning, so Catheryn was not surprised to see a number of persons riding sedately up and down the rows, nor to see the few elegant carriages that stopped now and again to enable their occupants to converse with one another or with the horsemen; however, having had several occasions in the city streets to realize that Chieftain might prove difficult should he take it into his head to defy the rein, she eyed the traffic doubtfully. Tiffany merely agreed that, although it was not the fashionable hour to be seen in the Park, the weather very likely accounted for the fairly heavy turn-out
“Gracious!” she exclaimed suddenly. “There’s Maggie, and she’s seen us!” She directed Catheryn’s attention to a vivacious young blonde waving from a nearby carriage, explaining with some asperity that Lady Margaret Varling, daughter of the Earl of Stanthorpe, was a dear friend but a chatterbox as well. Returning the wave with a charming smile, she added, “She wi
ll probably tell Richard she has seen us.”
“Why would it matter if she did?” inquired Catheryn.
Tiffany evaded the question. “Maggie will probably be the next Countess of Dambroke,” she stated. “Richard has just spent the best part of a fortnight jauntering back and forth between London and her home in Sussex.” Catheryn’s curiosity was piqued. It would be interesting to see what sort of female appealed to the earl’s taste.
“Tiffany, by all that’s wonderful!” Maggie exclaimed. “I declare, I never expected to see you this morning. Oh, and this,” indicating the plump, gray-haired lady beside her, “is my Aunt Augusta, Lady Trevaris.”
Tiffany made Catheryn known to the two ladies, then added, “I am surprised to see you out so early, Maggie. I didn’t even know you had returned to town.”
Lady Margaret giggled behind a daintily gloved hand. “Lud, Tiff, I shouldn’t have left my bedchamber yet, were it not for Aunt dragging me out. For air, she said.” The older woman smiled, rather grimly, Catheryn thought, steadying Chieftain. “She has set us all by the ears,” Maggie added.
“Really?”
“Indeed, Tiff. You must know we have been down at Stanthorpe this past fortnight. Aunt stayed with us to help look after Tony—my brother, Miss Westering—and she came to town to relax and do the shops.”
Tiffany interrupted before Maggie could continue, showing more animation than Catheryn had yet seen. “Is Captain Varling home then?”
Maggie looked surprised. “Of course he is! Didn’t Dambroke tell you? Or Lord Thomas? Mama and Papa swore them to secrecy, of course, on account of not wanting lots of visitors before he was recuperated, but I should have expected Dambroke to mention it to you and her ladyship,” she added naively.
“Well, he certainly should have mentioned it,” Tiffany stated flatly. “Of all the ramshackle things!”
“Nonsense, Tiffany.” Catheryn steadied Chieftain again and smiled at both girls. “Neither of you would expect his lordship to break his word.”
