by Amanda Scott
“Thank you,” Brittany said, turning to regard him ruefully. “I suppose it never occurred to his lordship that you and I might not chance to be acquainted.”
“Can’t think why it should,” Lord Toby said simply. “We are. Daresay I’m acquainted with everyone here, come to that.”
She smiled. “I have every confidence that you are, sir; however, we have not enjoyed your company at Malmesbury House for some time. Where have you been keeping yourself?”
“Down in the shires,” he confessed with the arch manner of a child confiding mischief.
Brittany chuckled, tucking her hand in the crook of his arm. “Don’t tell me you’ve been fox-hunting, for I shan’t believe it, sir.”
“Well you must believe it, for I have, right enough. Purchased a little hunting box in Rutlandshire last year, don’t you know. Place is neat as wax, and I promptly installed a mighty fine French chef to see to my more important needs.” With his free hand he patted his rounding stomach affectionately.
“Hunting is more than the possession of a hunting box and a chef, sir,” Brittany told him sternly. “One is expected to ride a horse, for example, even to stay mounted upon that horse as it sails over hedge and stile.”
Lord Toby grinned appreciatively. “Do you think I cannot sit a horse, ma’am? I doubt Wellington would have been much amused had I insisted upon following him about the Continent in a well-sprung carriage. Nor, come to think of it, would the carriage have stayed well-sprung for long on those loathsome roads. Indeed, I do not hesitate to boast that my prowess as an equestrian would astound you. But tell me, is this light banter intended to prevent me from asking awkward questions? I never do, you know. Deuced bad manners.”
“Is it?” she asked dryly. They had reached the tall, arched doorway into the tea room, and she had all she could do to keep herself from looking back over her shoulder. She had heard no commotion, however, so she could hope that Cheriton had managed to prevent Faringdon from accosting Alicia on the spot. Realizing that her companion had not responded to her quip, she turned her head to look at him, and since they were much the same height, she found herself looking directly into Lord Toby’s light-blue eyes. She saw her own worry reflected there, and involuntarily her hand tightened on his arm in an affectionate squeeze. “’Tis merely that Lissa has been up to her old tricks. You have known us forever, Toby, so I shan’t stand on ceremony with you. She is here tonight.”
“I saw her. Can’t say I didn’t wonder, for I thought your crochety sire had a hard-and-fast rule. Chit ain’t seventeen yet, is she?”
“No, though she will be in a little more than a month, and I daresay that if Arabella hadn’t been coming out this Season, Papa might have relented. She is the only one of us with a spring birthday, you see, so she believes herself ill-used.”
“How on earth did she manage the vouchers?” Lord Toby demanded. “Even Alicia ain’t got bottom enough merely to strut through these doors without a proper ticket of admission.”
Brittany shook her head. “That little mystery hasn’t yet been solved. She accompanied Lady Arden and Penelope, so I daresay she contrived to humbug her ladyship in some way. But that still does not account for the voucher. She must have had that from one patroness or another, and I cannot think how she contrived it.”
They had arrived at the serving table and Lord Toby procured a cup of tea for Brittany and a small plate of cakes for himself. As he touched her elbow with his free hand to guide her toward the row of gilt chairs against the nearest wall, he hesitated, his gaze returning to the arched doorway through which they had come but moments before.
“I deduce,” he murmured, “that somehow Tony Faringdon has managed to embroil himself in your sister’s affairs and that you were foisted onto me in order that Cheriton might attempt to dissuade him from enacting a drama before one and all. You will be gratified to know that, as is Cherry’s custom, he has succeeded in his purpose.”
Brittany followed the direction of his gaze to see Faringdon and the marquess entering together. The natural harshness of Cheriton’s demeanor made it difficult to read his emotions, but Faringdon was clearly laboring under the strain of controlling his temper. Indeed, when the two gentlemen joined them, her betrothed appeared ready to explode.
“That kitten wants drowning,” he muttered wrathfully to Brittany.
“Well, you cannot do it, sir,” she said calmly, “so I wish you will dampen that temper of yours. People are staring at us.”
His eyes flashed dangerously. “Can you imagine what a fool I was made to look at Arden House? I mentioned my belief that the Lady Alicia Leighton might be dining with Lady Arden only to be told that their ladyships had already departed for Almack’s. The butler, a pompous nodcock if ever I saw one, informed me in a most supercilious manner that of course the Lady Alicia was with Lady Arden, as had been planned for days, he said. If this little outing was planned for days, Brittany, why the devil did no one see fit to tell me?”
“Because that wasn’t the case at all, of course, or at least if it was, she told none of us. Be sensible, Tony. You are angry because Alicia did you out of one chance to scold her, but you are scarcely the only one she deceived, you know. Indeed, I daresay she never once considered your feelings, for she had no cause to do so. I only hope Cheriton managed to head you off before you made a fool of yourself by causing a scene calculated to embarrass the lot of us.”
“Oh, he stopped me, all right,” muttered Faringdon more in the tone of a sulking schoolboy than in that of a dignified peer of the realm. He glared at the marquess. “Damned interfering—”
Brittany cut in swiftly, “That’s enough, Tony. He was doing us all a favor, and when you come to reflect calmly upon the matter, you will thank him. I certainly do,” she added, turning to the marquess. “But how did you manage to stop him in time, sir?”
Again it was Faringdon who spoke, a rueful grimace of reminiscence tugging at his lips. “Threatened to knock my head off if I so much as opened my mouth. Knew he could do it, so I shut up. A dustup like that would have made the precious patronesses show their claws for sure.”
“Would have kept them from noticing where you were headed, all the same,” Lord Toby said, turning his cherubic smile on the marquess. “Good thinking, man. You’d have been turned out for it, though. He’s got that right. Never get back through these hallowed doors after such an appalling display as that.”
“You tempt me more than ever,” said Cheriton sardonically. He glanced at Brittany. “We have averted scandal for the moment, ma’am, if your mother can be depended upon to behave as though nothing of importance has occurred. Do you think—”
“Now that you have reminded her of her duty, Mama will cause no scandal,” Brittany said quickly. “Nor will Arabella. The only one we need be concerned about is Alicia herself. If only she does not become so full of herself as to declare what she has done for the world to hear—or merely for Lady Arden to hear, for that matter. Her ladyship is a widgeon, to be sure, but even she will not continue to believe that Mama knew the whole if Lissa behaves as though she has backed a winner at Ascot. And, too, although Mama will remain calm—at least until we get her safely home again—I do not believe she will dissemble if the right questions are put to her directly.”
“Then, might I suggest that we return to her side at once,” Cheriton said brusquely.
“Indeed,” Lord Toby said, “the sooner she has reinforcements, the better. In fact,” he added, glancing sidelong at the earl, “if we are to keep a rein on Faringdon’s temper, I daresay the sooner we get young Alicia out of this place, the better it will be for us all.”
No one disagreed with him, and indeed Faringdon continued to look as though his quick temper might get the better of him if it were given the slightest encouragement to do so. Brittany allowed him to place her hand lightly upon his forearm, hoping no one would think it odd that she appeared to require the services of three gentlemen to see her safely restored to her mama’
s side.
Brittany saw immediately that Lady Arden was no longer beside the duchess, for Arabella had taken her place. She looked wide-eyed, excited, and slightly breathless, but no more so, Brittany decided, than might be expected of a young lady enjoying her first night at the famous assembly rooms. Her sister’s gray eyes widened even more, however, at sight of Lord Faringdon’s grim expression.
The duchess’s face still lacked its usual color when she turned quickly to Brittany, murmuring sotto voce, “Oh, dear, he looks so very angry.”
“Of course, he is, ma’am, as you must be yourself, but we can scarcely discuss the matter here and now with all the world looking on. We must behave as though all is in order.”
The duchess at once smiled brightly at a passing acquaintance and said through her teeth, “Yes, of course, my dear. Cheriton very sensibly reminded me of that fact earlier, and I am ashamed to confess that I required such a reminder. A sensible man, Cheriton, most unlike his father. But, Brittany dear, whatever are we to do? Alicia has not been next or nigh me since that one brief moment after the country dances. Instead, she persists in making one of that idiotish Arden woman’s party and behaves as though she does not know her own family.”
“She knows us, right enough,” Brittany said tartly, “and I daresay she is only avoiding our company out of a strong sense of self-preservation. Still, if she behaves oddly or as though she is getting away with something, the prattling pussies in this room will be onto her in a flash. And if I attempt to fetch her, or if you do so yourself, ma’am, I fear she may unthinkingly say or do something that will put the tattlemongers in possession of the whole sorry tale.”
“Oh, dear,” moaned the duchess, “whatever will your papa say?”
“Quite a lot, I imagine.”
“If you will permit me,” Lord Toby said suddenly, “I daresay I can collect the chit without raising a stir.”
Arabella, who had been silent until then, beamed upon him with warm approval. “Of course you could, sir. Alicia is a little in awe of you, I believe, but whether she is or not, she will know how much it must enhance her credit to be seen in your company.”
He made her a polite bow, his eyes dancing with pleasure at her words. “You are kind, ma’am, and if I may say so, a credit to your family as well. You are quite one of the diamonds of the Season, my word on it.”
Arabella chuckled. “And you, sir, are the most complete hand. Had I not known you for many years, I should still not be taken in by such blatant flattery, but I enjoy hearing it nonetheless, so I thank you kindly. Now, do you go and fetch Alicia before Mama has a fit of apoplexy.”
“Bella, really, I should do no such nonsensical thing,” protested the duchess, rallying. “How very out of the way I should look to succumb in such an undignified manner, and at Almack’s of all places.”
Brittany grinned at her sister, knowing that Arabella, in her practical fashion, had hit upon the very best way to restore the duchess to her customary good sense. If Cheriton could hold her betrothed in check, no doubt they would all rub along well enough, for there would be nothing more to worry about, other than the small matter of the duke’s reaction to his daughter’s open rebellion. A tiny shiver shot up her spine at this last thought, and she realized that Alicia might just as well have marched into his library and thrown down a gauntlet. Brittany glanced up just then to encounter a searching, almost anxious look in Cheriton’s dark eyes. When she smiled at him, the look changed, warming. Quickly she looked away again, finding herself oddly grateful, even relieved, a moment later when he drew Faringdon aside to speak to him in a low tone.
She had no idea what the marquess said, but Faringdon spoke not a word when Lord Toby succeeded in bringing Alicia to her mother’s side soon afterward. Alicia’s chin was held high and her eyes were bright with challenge, as though she dared anyone to question her.
The duchess smiled at her. “I neglected to mention earlier, my dear, how greatly that gown becomes you. Where had you it made?”
“Madame Mariot of Regent Street,” Alicia mumbled. Then, drawing a breath and seeming to realize that her mother, at least, had no intention of taking her to task on the spot, she drew herself up a little straighter and added, “I did not wish to go to your own Monique in Conduit Street for fear she would spoil my surprise. Lady Arden told me that Madame Mariot makes dresses for the Countess Cowper and Lady Jersey, as well as for many others among the beau monde.”
“Did she, indeed?” The duchess’s voice was weaker now and Brittany decided it was time to take a hand.
“Mama is feeling a trifle pulled about this evening, Alicia, so we had thought to make an early night of it. We do not stay to supper.”
“Oh, do you not? Well, Lady Arden, Penelope, and I intend to stay, of course—” She broke off suddenly with a little cry of pain and looked accusingly at Lord Toby, whose right hand had moved to cover hers where it rested upon his left arm. He smiled blandly at her as, though he had no idea that she had just been sharply pinched. Disconcerted, she glanced at Faringdon, but that gentleman’s face had hardened noticeably as a result of her airy statement, and Alicia, nibbling her bottom lip now, looked hurriedly away again, her gaze next encountering Cheriton’s. Whatever she saw in his harsh countenance evidently caused her to decide that the first skirmish of the battle was done, for she said quietly, “Very well, I shall be prepared to leave whenever you like.”
The marquess spoke then, just as quietly. “There is no need for a hasty departure. Indeed, there is every reason to avoid so much as a hint of haste. If I might have the honor of this dance, Lady Alicia?”
Gratefully, albeit warily, she put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her into the nearest set forming now for the Scotch reels. Brittany and Arabella both had partners who came to claim them for the dance, and Faringdon and Lord Toby were left to chat with the duchess. When Brittany returned again to her mother’s side, the two gentlemen had moved away, and she breathed a sigh of relief, only to have the breath catch in her throat several moments later when she saw Faringdon intercept the marquess and Alicia and take the young girl’s hand in his to lead her back to the floor.
“How could you allow him to do that?” she demanded when the marquess approached.
“I could scarcely stop him again,” Cheriton told her calmly. “Faringdon’s no fool, you know. He will scarcely attempt to reproach her while they dance. Moreover, ’tis a quadrille forming, and if my memory serves me, he fancies himself a master of the more intricate steps, so his mind ought to be fully engaged. What is more important is that you have promised to dance this dance with me,” he added. “Or would you prefer to sit out in order to take me to task for my poor judgment?”
Brittany shook her head, allowing him to lead her into their set. It was very odd, she thought, to realize that she had met Cheriton only that night. His manner with her was so relaxed, so unlike that of most of her admirers. Indeed, she did not even know if he did admire her, for he did not flatter her, nor did he flirt. Still, he somehow succeeded in making her feel as though they had been friends for many years. Maybe Alicia had been right earlier when she had said he was much like Ravenwood and the other Inseparables. Maybe the reason for her comfortable feeling was merely that he was so like them that having known them she felt as though she had known him, too.
The quadrille required a command of a wide range of steps and movements, such as the jetté, assemblé, balotté, pas de Zephyr, pirouette, glissade, pas de basque, entrechat, fleuret, chassé, and coupé. Some of these movements were beyond the capabilities of the majority of dancers, but since it was possible and perfectly acceptable to walk or slide through the more complicated figures, everyone was able to enjoy the dance. It began like the Scotch reel, with four couples in a square, and it provided as much opportunity for gossip as for dancing, because while one couple performed a complex set of steps, the others often merely stood and watched until their own turns came.
To Brittany’s surprise, sinc
e she knew he had but recently come to London after a three-year absence, Cheriton performed his part most creditably. For a tall man, she thought him particularly light of foot, and when he smiled at her halfway through one of the more complicated figures, she laughed aloud, her eyes sparkling with pleasure. When it was next their turn to watch the others, he leaned down to murmur close to her right ear, “Am I forgiven yet for allowing Faringdon to dance with your little sister?”
Blushing, she shook her head; then, fearing he would misunderstand, she looked up into his face and said, “I do not blame you, sir. I fear, however, that Tony will not behave so wisely as you think he will, and Alicia certainly cannot be depended upon to do so. I cannot think why he becomes so enraged with her, for he is scarcely a prig, when all is said and done.”
Cheriton threw back his head and laughed. Then, noting the attention he drew, he stifled his laughter quickly, but his eyes were still alight when he said, “No, he is not that, whatever else he may be. No doubt there is something about her behavior that stirs his temper, but it is certainly not that she outrages his sense of propriety.”
When the last figure had been danced, they turned to rejoin the duchess, but Brittany’s next partner claimed her hand before they reached her, so although she saw Arabella briefly, she did not see Alicia for some little time. And when she did at last catch a glimpse of Alicia, that young lady was laughing flirtatiously into a new partner’s eyes. At that moment her own hand was claimed by her betrothed.
“Tony,” she protested, “your name is not down for this dance.”
“The devil it’s not,” he said gruffly. “Daresay I can dance with my intended wife if I’m of a mind to do so. Here, Devereaux,” he added to the gentleman approaching them just then with a look of intent in his eyes, “you go find yourself another wench. This one’s mine.”
