He put the box and his handkerchief away and moved back a little. Miss Terry’s sneeze, when it came, was satisfyingly explosive and it stopped all conversation in the hall. She groped in her pocket for her handkerchief, and finally she had the presence of mind to spread her fan before her face while she recovered her composure.
“Dear me,” said elegant Lord Strang, surprise in every inch of his form. “I do beg your pardon, madam. Do ladies here not take snuff? It’s becoming quite the thing in London these days.” I lifted an eyebrow at Gervase who shook his head slightly. Not the thing, then.
Miss Terry looked at her tormentor, her pale eyes doubtful. “Does Rose do it?”
“Sadly no.” He shot a regretful glance to where I stood by Lizzie, his eyes glinting with banked-down delight. “She has expressed a positive dislike for it, but I may bring her round yet.”
“No you won’t,” I told him, and I moved forward to join in again. Not being a saint, I had enjoyed Miss Terry’s embarrassment, but enough was enough, at least for now.
“Nor,” continued my love, pursuing his quarry, “have I ever heard her say ‘la’. You should take it up, sweetheart, you could set quite a fashion.” I frowned at him but he continued to smile at her, unperturbed, elegantly assured.
Miss Terry must have thought everyone in London used the term, but she should have realised that nothing is so dated as the jargon of a previous generation.
The shock of realisation jolted me. He’d called me “sweetheart”’ in company. Richard wasn’t demonstrative in public, and usually referred to me as “Rose” or “madam”.
I knew, as clearly as if he’d told me, that he was letting Miss Terry know something about us, but I don’t know if she’d noticed. She didn’t know Richard well.
“You shall tell me what words I should use instead.” She leaned forward confidentially to lay her hand on his arm.
He looked down at the hand, and then up at her face. Miss Terry had recovered her composure and seemed too dense to see that his smile had gone, or so sure of herself she didn’t imagine he could resist her charms. He bowed his head. “Naturally, I would be delighted.”
We moved on. He behaved himself impeccably with everyone else, but in a quiet moment said to me, “I would appreciate your opinion on these people some time. I don’t know them from Adam. See if I won’t try to bring them out.”
I sighed. I’d seen the gleam in his eye, his enjoyment at baiting Miss Terry. “You won’t get rid of Miss Terry for a while. She put it about you jilted Julia Cartwright for me—” He glanced at me, frowning. I continued hastily, “Oh, everyone knows the right of it, but she loves to make trouble, and she’s been heard to say if you’ll jilt one, then you’ll jilt another. She imagines that every man who comes within her orbit will fall madly in love with her.” Julia Cartwright had run off with my erstwhile suitor, Steven Drury, before Richard had formally asked for my hand in marriage. The fault lay with her and Richard had taken great pains to ensure no condemnation lay on me. He would not like Eustacia’s gossip.
“Does she indeed?” He lifted a single delicate eyebrow in displeasure.
“She’s stupid, you mustn’t mind her.”
“Oh, but I think I must.” He would say nothing else, and Lady Skerrit was coming towards us, so he moved forward with his charming smile to greet her.
Dinner was served in the large dining room, at a huge table built there in situ by the original builders of the house. If this was not a formal occasion, I swear Gervase would have been under it, examining the timbers for signs of the long-dead carpenter’s tools. He did ask Lady Skerrit if he might come another day with his sketchbook. “I find this building enchanting, and I’m sure it must hold many secrets.”
“Gervase will ferret them all out,” Richard warned her. “I’ve never seen such a passion for antiquities. I believe we have an old castle ourselves, Gervase.”
Gervase turned in surprise. “Have we? I don’t recall.”
“Our Tudor ancestors virtually abandoned it. Our father takes no interest in it. You should go to see it. For all I know it’s a complete ruin, but it might amuse you to restore it.”
“It might indeed.” Gervase’s face brightened. He proceeded to ask Lady Skerrit many questions about the house, some of which she couldn’t answer.
Tom had no idea either. “I didn’t think anyone else would be interested in Peacock’s. I love it, but then I would.”
“It’s a wonderful example of early Tudor, one of the finest I’ve seen.” Several young ladies heard Gervase’s comments, and I wondered how many would find a similar passion in the early Tudor style before Gervase left the district.
Richard, placed by my side at the table, set himself to charm Miss Terry, seated on his other side. I had some suspicion of what he was about, and I wasn’t sure I approved. He told her she must be sure to come and see us later in the year, as he wished to go to London after our bride trip.
“Bride trip?” I hadn’t thought about after the wedding.
“Yes, had you forgotten? Bride visits will have to wait until I’ve had you to myself for a while.”
“Where are we going?”
“Everywhere and nowhere.” He gave me a maddeningly enigmatic smile and would say no more, returning to Miss Terry instead. “You remind me of someone, ma’am. One of the Misses Gunning perhaps.”
Eustacia lowered her eyelids and smiled up at him, a trick she practised on the local cavaliers, with excellent results. I had seen it many times in Exeter Assembly rooms, and it rarely failed in its effect. Richard smiled back at her, and Gervase, seated on my other side, choked. The Gunnings were great beauties, famed throughout society. It was an outrageous compliment, but Eustacia saw nothing amiss in it. “Or Miss Chudleigh,” Richard continued, his quarry well in his sights. Miss Chudleigh’s morals were known to be lax, to say the least.
Eustacia opened her eyes wide. “I cannot think I come up to their standards, sir.” She unfurled her fan and made to tap him with it, but he moved his hand away.
“You need town polish, Miss Terry,” Richard said. “Then you will astonish us all. Do you mean to come to town?”
Eustacia glanced at her parents, seated further up the table. Mrs. Terry watched her daughter carefully—little escaped her close regard. “We might plan a visit for the season next year, but we are unused to town ways and we will need someone like you to show us how to go on.”
“I’m sure many people will rush to help you.” That committed him to nothing.
Skilfully he worked on Miss Terry, enchanting her, winding a silken web of delight around her willing form. His compliments were flowery, insincere but delightful, the kind a society lady would dismiss out of hand, but which I feared Miss Terry took only too seriously. The other young ladies present eyed her enviously from time to time, and one or two glanced at me to see how I reacted. I stayed serene. Richard unobtrusively saw to my every comfort while holding the girl on his string, and I thought I had a good idea what he was about.
On my other side Gervase murmured, “Has the young lady offended you?”
“In the past she has done her best.”
“Did you tell him?” I nodded. Gervase tsked. “That might not have been the wisest course.”
Tom observed me with concern. He could see how much Richard flirted, but he didn’t know him as well as Gervase did, and wasn’t able to divine his purpose. It looked like I was being ignored, but this was far from the case. I knew the moment I asked for his attention, Richard would turn away from Miss Terry and back to me.
“Do you remember this table, Rose?” Tom asked.
“I remember it well.” I knew what he meant. “Do you think the mark your tomahawk made will still be there?”
“Oh, it’s still there all right,” my childhood friend assured me with a boyish grin.
“Tomahawk?” Richard looked away from his target, the languid interest replaced by real curiosity.
Tom’s grin broadened. “I
t’s a weapon like an axe that the natives of America use. We used to have one, but Rose and I took to playing American natives under this table and when I pretended one of the legs was a tree and I wanted to cut it down, Father took it away.”
“I threw it away that same morning.” Sir George Skerrit smiled at the memory. “I thought the table might be worth keeping for a few more years, and I could certainly live without a tomahawk.”
“Can it be I’m to marry a hoyden?” Richard’s limpid blue gaze filled with astonishment, but I saw the humour lurking deep.
“Oh, I thought you’d worked that out for yourself at the Abbey. Did I not show you deeply hoydenish behaviour there, one afternoon in particular?” His eyes gleamed. I knew he was remembering something not to be repeated in polite society, but I met his gaze levelly. “Only I don’t think the word hoyden came into it at the time.”
His eyes caressed me with their warmth, reminding me of the time they had caressed my naked body—followed by his hands and his mouth. “No, it assuredly did not,” he said slowly and turned back to Miss Terry. “I can’t believe you, ma’am, would do anything of that nature.”
“No indeed.” she replied, even though she couldn’t possibly know what we were discussing. She shot me a spark of triumph. “I wasn’t allowed out of the nursery wing until I was seventeen.”
“And you were always taught proper manners.” Richard leaned back in his chair and picked up his wineglass. Twirling it idly, he watched the red liquid swirl around inside, a tiny turbulent sea.
“My mama thought it essential.” Eustacia looked towards her mother once more. Mrs. Terry smiled indulgently back at her only child.
“Do you always follow the principles of good behaviour?” he asked.
“Oh yes, sir.”
“Do you never deviate from them?” He caught her in his gaze, a silent challenge lurking there for her to answer.
Miss Terry put up her chin. “I might.” She flushed a little. After a furtive glance towards her mother, she favoured Richard with a coquettish smile.
Richard watched her steadily. When he’d gained her full attention, he slowly let his regard move down, to her décolleté neckline, and back up to her face again. “I’m pleased to hear it.” He returned to his wine. Miss Terry coloured, and looked away, then back at him, but he had turned away to speak to Sir George.
Gervase sighed. “He knows to a nicety how far she will go to attract him, but this is as far as he cares to take her tonight. He’s preparing her for a mighty fall.”
“I know.”
Apparently blithely unaware of Miss Terry’s blushes and simpers now, Richard spoke to our host. “Do you take your seat in Parliament, sir?”
“Not every year,” Sir George replied.
“Very wise. Gervase is thinking of going into the House. Our father is delighted, for he’s tried to persuade me for years, and I’ve always refused him.”
“You would have to enter the Lords surely, my lord?” Sir George said.
Richard shook his head. “No. My title is a courtesy one; I could still enter the Commons. But I fear I might find it a dead bore.”
“Really, Richard! The affairs of nations are settled there,” Gervase protested.
“You know my sphere of influence, Gervase. It doesn’t include the affairs of nations.” He smiled at Sir George. “I take a particular interest in our justice system, and the way it is carried out.” Sir George nodded, but a tinge of curiosity entered his expression. Perhaps he thought a man of fashion like Richard couldn’t take an interest in anything outside his wardrobe. People often made that mistake. Richard addressed his brother. “Now you would make an excellent politician, Gervase, and you could remain in the Commons.”
“You could be a new Pelham and Newcastle,” said James, referring to our present leaders, also brothers, one in the Lords, the other in the Commons.
Richard’s shudder was so pronounced it could have been seen right down at the other end of the table. “I thank you, no. If anything could persuade me to stay well out of political affairs, that reference could.”
“Can it be you support the Tory cause, my lord?” asked Sir George with a sudden increased interest.
“I have no idea what that could be.” Richard drained his glass and watched the servant refill it. “If I am anything, I must be Whig, but that doesn’t encourage me to admire Newcastle. Pelham is a competent man, I think, but his brother seems to lack the resolve a good politician needs. He prefers sycophants to men of ability. I should like to think I’m too good for him, but I’ll never know, since I don’t intend to try.”
“Is your father interested in politics?” asked James.
“He supports Henry Fox, but he doesn’t aspire to high office. So, madam,” he said, turning to me, “if you were hoping to be a political hostess I’m afraid I must disappoint you.”
I smiled, relieved he had let Miss Terry alone for the time being. “I can live without it. But if I really wanted to, I could always become Gervase’s hostess.”
“Until he gets himself a wife of his own.” Sir George smiled, and Miss Terry eyed Gervase speculatively. Of all the people at this table tonight only Richard, Lizzie and I knew Gervase’s secret, that his scandalous elopement had been with another man, not the man’s wife, as had been put about. I had confided in my sister, with Gervase’s permission, and she had been a lot less censorious that I had supposed. Society suspected, but when he returned from India, his riches went a long way towards convincing society that he wouldn’t cause such scandal again. He did seem to have learned his lesson, and he kept his affairs admirably discreet. Moreover, he was an amusing and much valued dinner guest, and would have been a sad loss to many hostesses, so most people let it be. I hoped there would be no scandals here in my home county. Surely the Kerre brothers would not be here long enough for that.
Chapter Five
The dinner ended. I stood with everyone else and watched the men drift apart from the women. Richard inclined his head and favoured me with a wink as he stood with the other gentlemen while we left the room. I lowered my head on a smile. It was like him to tease me in public, try to make me lose my composure while giving me every support. The perversity of his nature alarmed me sometimes.
Lady Skerrit twined her hand around my arm as if she had suddenly grown frail; an extraordinary accomplishment considering her sturdy form. She flicked out her fan and used it to direct me to the drawing room at the front of the house. I felt like the leader of a flock of brightly clad sheep walking along the candlelit corridor. Tall paintings of Skerrit ancestors peered down at us from either side.
The drawing room candles were already lit. Tea was laid out on the sideboards and the tables set up in the centre for card playing. Lady Skerrit’s servants were most efficient, as always.
Lady Skerrit drew me aside, with a concerned expression, echoing that of her son. “A word, if you please, Rose.”
We sat a little apart, and talked quietly while a maid brought us tea and cakes. I waited to hear what my dear friend’s mama would have to say, but I feared I had guessed already. “My dear, I hope you don’t mind if I speak out, but you and Tom have run together since you were children, and I almost look on you as one of my own. In fact, once I hoped—” She broke off and sighed. “But it was not to be.”
“Lady Skerrit, I—” I hoped to head her off, but she held up her hand for me to cease. It was a gesture I remembered well from my childhood and I was quiet.
“Lord Strang is a personable man, but he is a man of the world, and you, despite your age, are an innocent. I’ve seen men like this before. They cause great misery to people and I don’t want you to become one of them. My dear, are you sure about this?” Her regard was all earnest anxiety and because we had been so close, I didn’t try to turn her concerns away lightly. She truly cared for me.
I sighed, and put my tea dish down, as I met her gaze with a frankness that matched her own. “Yes ma’am, I’m sure. I truly apprecia
te your concern, and I think, because you have known us for so long, I ought to tell you a little more. But please, don’t let it be generally known.” Lady Skerrit nodded and leaned towards me, so as not to be overheard.
I didn’t want to tell her, but if I didn’t try to explain, she would worry about me. “It’s not something one looks for in marriage in the usual way, but Richard and I are deeply in love.” I paused, searching for the right words. “Most people think he saw me as a better replacement for Julia Cartwright, but he’d already determined to be rid of her by the time we met. You remember Steven Drury, of course?” Lady Skerrit nodded. “She’s like the female version of Steven. They’re well suited.” I paused again. It felt like a betrayal, but I could trust Lady Skerrit not to gossip. “We didn’t look for this, but believe me it’s there.”
My best friend’s mother frowned. “I could see little evidence of his affection for you tonight.”
“You mean Miss Terry?” She nodded, tight-lipped. “I’m afraid I made a mistake. I told Richard about Miss Terry’s behaviour to me in the past.” I spread my fan and stared at the pattern, rather than meet her eyes. The cherubs painted on to the pleated surface stared back at me blankly.
“It seemed to me that this only attracted him to her, rather than repulsed him. He hardly took any notice of you at dinner.” Her voice sounded as fierce as a mother cat’s, defending its young.
I tried again. “Lady Skerrit, did you notice how often my glass was empty, or if I’d had enough to eat?” She shook her head. “He saw to it I had everything I needed but in a way that didn’t draw notice, because he knows I dislike that. If I had required his attention, believe me he would have given it.”
Devonshire: Richard and Rose, Book 2 Page 5
