by Amanda Scott
“Tony!” But Brittany was laughing. She couldn’t help it. He looked so fierce. “Very well, sir, I will go with you, but I warn you, if you tread upon my toes, I shall walk off and leave you standing like a post in the middle of the floor.”
He grinned at her then. “No, you won’t. Got more sense of what’s what than to do that to a fellow. Not that I wouldn’t deserve it if I stepped on those dainty little feet of yours. No protection at all, those wispy sandals ain’t.” He looked away briefly, then back. “We’re going down to supper after this set. Know you said we should leave, but I daresay Cherry’s got the right of it and we should stay just to make the thing look right.” He paused, clearing his throat as though the next words came with difficulty. “Sorry I made such a cake of myself, Tani. Lost my temper. Silly thing to do.”
The music began and it was several moments before she was able to speak to him without worrying about being overheard. “You needn’t apologize,” she said then. “Alicia would try the patience of a saint.”
“Well, I ain’t one,” he muttered.
“I know. I was afraid you were going to scold her when you asked her to dance with you a while ago.”
The pattern of the dance separated them for some moments, and when he was near enough to speak again, he said, “Don’t fret. If she didn’t know before, Lissa knows well enough now that I ain’t best pleased with her, but she ain’t one to throw a distempered freak where it will do her no good. You ought to realize that much if anyone does.”
“I wasn’t worried about Alicia, exactly,” she murmured.
He chuckled then. “Baggage. Did you give Cherry pepper for letting me walk off with the brat from under his long nose?”
“As though I should do such a thing,” she said haughtily. Then she added in quite a different tone, “He is very nice, is he not?”
Faringdon grimaced. “A fine thing to say about a man who threatened to knock my head off, I must say.”
Fearing he might be jealous and not certain how to convince him he had no reason to be, Brittany turned the subject, and when the music stopped and they went to the supper room, Faringdon appeared to have regained his normal excellent spirits. They joined the marquess, Alicia, Arabella, and Lord Toby Welshpool at a large table and made a hearty meal despite numerous disparaging remarks from the gentlemen with regard to the sad state of the food.
“Imagine paying ten pounds per Season for the privilege of eating this muck,” Faringdon said at one point, holding up a lopsided, half-iced fairy cake for their inspection. “It’s robbery, that’s what it is.”
“Dear me,” said Lord Toby in a sympathetic undertone, “is it bellows to mend with you again, dear boy, that ten pounds makes such a hole in your pocket?”
Faringdon pulled a rude face at him. “All right, then, maybe we do get what we pay for. Always has seemed dashed odd that the price is so low.”
“Not all the acceptable families are as wealthy as you are, my boy,” Lord Toby informed him, looking down his nose. “Breeding is what counts, don’t you know? A cit, no matter how dripping with guineas he might be, wouldn’t get a toe over the threshold, and that’s a fact, but one wouldn’t wish to exclude the forty-seventh Duchess of What for the simple lack of a shilling or two to rub together.”
“Are you so wealthy, then, Tony?” Alicia inquired demurely. “I thought I heard that Gil had to—”
“Lissa, hush,” Arabella said hastily. She turned to Lord Toby. “We are a very exclusive lot, are we not? To the point of absurdity, I sometimes think.”
Pointedly not looking at the scarlet-faced Faringdon, Lord Toby chuckled. “I shouldn’t say that sort of thing too loudly, ma’am. Emily Cowper just entered this room, and one wouldn’t wish to offend.”
“Lord knows ’tis easy enough to do,” murmured Faringdon wickedly, “particularly since she is perched as usual on Cupid Palmerston’s long arm.” Though temper had flashed momentarily in his eyes at Alicia’s provocative words, Lord Toby’s diversionary tactics had succeeded admirably.
Brittany was able to see the newcomers without turning her head. Emily Cowper, wife of the fifth Earl Cowper, was a small, slender woman with dark-brown hair and merry eyes. In her thirty-second year, she was generally acknowledged to be more of a beauty now than she had been in her youth, with a complexion so like fragile bone china that she had often been described by the gentleman who escorted her as a pale English rose. It came as no surprise to anyone that Lady Cowper was with Palmerston rather than with her husband, for Palmerston was far more important to her. Indeed, it was often said that her second son, now in his eighth year, was his. It was said, too, that her mother, Lady Melbourne, on her deathbed a year earlier, had recommended that Emily be true to her lover rather than to her spouse. However, Lady Cowper’s reputation for dalliance was such that anyone with an ear to such on-dits knew that her ladyship was no more faithful to Palmerston than to anyone else.
Despite her reputation for near profligacy, Emily Cowper was well-liked and much admired, as much for her own charming grace as for her family’s vast political power. She was Melbourne’s daughter, a member of the notorious Lamb family, and thus more politically aware than most women. But she was first of all a fun-loving, affectionate woman with many friends. Brittany knew her well and liked her best of all the patronesses, and she was not surprised when Lady Cowper and Palmerston came directly to their table. She was surprised, however, when her ladyship’s first words were directed to Alicia.
“My dear heart, how do you like our little club?” she asked, smiling broadly.
“Why, ’tis all you promised it would be and more, ma’am,” Alicia responded, returning the smile.
Faringdon exchanged a look with Brittany that made her hope fervently that he would keep silent, but she needn’t have worried, for Cheriton immediately greeted Palmerston, and it was clear that they were well-acquainted. The conversation became general at once, and the original exchange between the countess and Alicia was forgotten until later when the Malmesbury ladies were all crowded into her grace’s town carriage. The gentlemen had seen them on their way before taking themselves elsewhere, and so it was that with the glow from the carriage lamps lighting tired faces, Brittany took the first opportunity of a lull in the weary conversation to say quietly to her younger sister, “You had your voucher from Emily Cowper, did you not?”
“Merciful heavens,” moaned the duchess, “whoever could imagine such a thing? If you love me, Alicia, pray tell your sister she is wrong.”
4
ALICIA MUMBLED A VAGUE response, and with the coachman above and a footman behind, no one attempted to press her for further explanation. However, if she had hoped to get away unscathed, she discovered her error as soon as they reached Malmesbury House.
In the front hall, she did her possible. “I am more weary than I can say, Mama, so I shall bid you good night,” she said, attempting a light tone and failing as she moved hastily toward the great winged staircase.
“Really, Alicia,” began the duchess in a fretful tone, glancing at the hovering servants who waited to hear whether the ladies would retire at once or indulge in a bit of refreshment.
Arabella, too, seemed tired and unwilling to press matters. For once, instead of taking Alicia to task, she was silent. But Brittany discovered she could not hold her tongue. “Lissa, you are going nowhere until we speak. Come into the salon.”
“But—”
“At once,” Brittany said, the firmness of her tone surprising no one more than herself. She glanced at her mother, then at Arabella. “You need not stay, Bella, if you are tired.”
“On no account in the world would I wish to miss hearing what Lissa has to say about this matter,” said Arabella, rallying. “Come, Lissa.” She looked at their interested butler. “Pinchbeck, we require nothing further, thank you.”
“Has his grace returned?” asked the duchess anxiously before the butler could turn away.
“No, madam, he said he would
be late. He is at White’s, I believe.”
Brittany noted that Alicia seemed relieved to hear their father was out, and decided that her little sister was not, after all, totally unaware of the gravity of her offense. She nodded toward the side of the large hall opposite the duke’s library, and shrugging, Alicia preceded her into the high-ceilinged blue salon. The room was named for several prominently displayed pieces of blue-brocaded Louis the Fourteenth furniture and for the deep-blue velvet curtains draping the line of tall, narrow windows that by daylight gave a fine view onto the wide flagstone terrace that surrounded three sides of the magnificent ducal mansion and a small, well-tended side garden. Once inside, with the doors shut firmly behind them, it was the duchess who spoke first.
“Dearest child, how came you to do so foolish a thing?”
Alicia stiffened, clenching her hands in the folds of her skirt. “’Twas not foolishness, Mama, ’twas necessity. Now Papa must relent, for he cannot wish to stir up the sort of scandal that would result from banishing me to the park or locking me in my bedchamber on a diet of bread and water.”
“You have been reading entirely too many romances,” Arabella said severely as she took her seat upon one of the fragile brocaded chairs. “Do you think no one knows what you have done? We can certainly trust Lord Toby to say nothing, but we scarcely know Cheriton, after all, so pray tell me what is to keep him from telling the world what he knows?”
“He will not do so,” Brittany said quickly.
“And just how do you know that?” Alicia demanded.
Brittany looked at the others, all of whom seemed surprised by her quick defense of the marquess. “Why, I don’t know how I know. I just do. Cheriton is an honorable man.”
“Well,” said Alicia tartly, “that scarcely signifies, for your precious Faringdon no doubt thinks himself an honorable man, too, but he’s a rattle if ever there was one. If this tale gets about, I shan’t be so foolish as to blame Cheriton.”
“Such talk is unworthy of you, Alicia,” Arabella said. “You may not like his lordship, but he is concerned only for your reputation. He will say nothing to anyone, though, mark you, the tale will spread as such tales always do. Still, you have not answered Mama’s question. How ever did you manage the thing? Was it truly from Lady Cowper that you had your vouchers?”
“Well, of course it was. I am certain no one else might have been so easily persuaded to assist me.”
“I cannot credit that Lady Cowper realized she was assisting you to deceive your own family,” Arabella said tartly. “No doubt we shall all be refused future vouchers if your actions become known, and if that happens, Lissa, I shall never forgive you.”
“Oh, pooh,” said Alicia, but she looked a bit taken aback by Arabella’s vehemence, as well she might, thought Brittany. It was unlike Bella to speak so harshly. Only in a matter so important to her as her continued admittance to Almack’s would she do so.
“Tell us how you contrived the business, Lissa,” she said quietly.
“Well, it was rather simple in the end,” Alicia said, tossing her head. “I had racked my brain, you know, trying to think how to acquire a voucher in the face of all the difficulty. It happened when Lady Arden let Pen and me accompany her to meet Lady Sefton last Monday afternoon before we all drove through Richmond Park together. Lady Sefton was at the Ladies’ Committee meeting, you see, and the meeting had gone longer than expected, so we went inside to await her pleasure.”
“Gracious, you actually intruded upon the weekly Ladies’ Committee?” the duchess said, shaking her head in wonder. “Whatever will you do next?”
“What was it like?” Arabella demanded at the same time, her irritation momentarily overridden by her curiosity.
Alicia responded to her sister’s new tone gratefully. “I’ll tell you. There they all were, every patroness, sitting at one long table, each with three baskets in front of her. The first basket, Lady Arden told me, held all the applications from the patronesses’ own friends, relatives, and near connections. The next bore the words ‘Almack’s Accepted,’ and the third ‘Almack’s Rejected.’ From the names in those third baskets they compile a list of those poor souls who can never be admitted. Thank heaven none of our names is among them.”
“What happens to the names in the second baskets?” Brittany asked curiously.
“Well, each patroness reads the names from her second basket aloud and the other ladies make their comments, stating their acquiescence or objection to each. Those applicants whose reputations survive the discussion will be sent the vouchers that enable them to buy tickets of admission. Lady Arden didn’t tell us everything about it, of course, but we cajoled Lady Sefton into explaining the finer points later as we drove through the park. I can promise you that both Pen and I were fascinated and asked any number of questions.”
“I am not surprised,” the duchess said fretfully, “but none of this explains how you came by your own voucher, my dear. Your name surely was not in anyone’s second basket.”
“No, of course not, but Lady Arden chanced to ask me at the very moment that the meeting was breaking up if I had received my voucher yet. When I said I had not, Lady Cowper was just passing, and I spoke loudly enough for her to hear me. I knew, of course, that your vouchers always come from her.”
“Merciful heavens,” breathed the duchess. “Then what happened?”
“Well, it was over in a trice,” Alicia said, grinning. “Lady Cowper came to a standstill and looked straight at me, absolutely astonished, as you may imagine, and said she hadn’t realized I was meant to have one, that she had quite thought you had meant only Arabella to come out this Season. I said, quite casually, you know, that there must have been an oversight and that I was sure you would speak to her. She said there was no need for that, and wrote me out a voucher on the spot.” A guilty look flashed across her face. “She said no doubt she had failed to understand you, that she had become quite shatterbrained over the past year, and that things seemed even more disorganized this month, on account of her beginning go to into society again now that her mama has been dead a whole year.”
“Last year was a dreadful year for poor Emily,” acknowledged the duchess. “What with her mother dying on the sixth of April, followed two days later by that dastardly attempt to assassinate Palmerston, it is scarcely to be wondered at that she suffered a miscarriage in May. Then, too, as I recall the matter, her relationship with Palmerston had become somewhat distressful even before that awful Lieutenant Davies shot him.”
Brittany put an affectionate arm around the duchess’s shoulders. “Surely, Mama, you do not mean to choose this moment to enjoy a gossip about Lady Cowper, her amiable Italian, and her sometimes not so amiable paramour.”
“What? Do you think I don’t know all about such things?” Alicia asked mischievously. “I certainly know about Count Giuliano, as who does not? He made a dead set at her after following her back from Italy two years ago, and there has been recurring war between Emily Cowper and Cupid Palmerston ever since as a result.”
“Alicia!” cried the duchess. “Do not speak so, I beg of you.”
“Well, but what about opening night at Almack’s last year? I know you and Tani were there, Mama, so you must know if it is true that there was a dreadful scene between Palmerston and the count. Was there not, Tani?”
“There was,” she said, remembering with a small shudder, “but how you come to know of such things, Alicia, I cannot think.”
“Oh, I have my ways,” said her sister wisely.
“Well, that was before Cupid Palmerston was shot, of course,” their mother reminded them. “Afterward there were no more rows, and since the new year I cannot think of another romance that has flourished so well.”
“A fine way to talk, all of you,” said Arabella, assuming a stern look belied only by the twinkle of her eyes. “Where does poor Lord Cowper fit into this picture, may I ask?”
Brittany chuckled, but the duchess was repentant at once
. “We should not be talking of such things at all,” she said guiltily, “and you, Alicia, should certainly not be hearing this sort of talk. Indeed, you ought not even to be here but to be tucked up in your bed. Whatever are we going to do? Your father …”
But whatever she had been going to say suddenly proved to be too much for her. Bringing a hand to her head, she sank limply into a nearby chair, overcome by thought of scenes yet to be played.
“Now, see what you have done, Lissa,” Arabella said, glaring at her accusingly.
“Well, I am sorry to have distressed Mama, of course, but I am not afraid of Papa,” Alicia said stoutly. “What can he do, after all?”
Her sisters looked at her, and it was Alicia who looked away first.
Arabella said more gently, “Perhaps he need not know anything about the matter. We can just go about our business as though it never happened.”
The duchess looked up. “Oh, no, my dears, for people will come to call, you know. He will hear of Alicia’s escapade very soon from one source or another, and I cannot believe that that would be better than for Alicia to tell him the whole of it herself, you know.”
“Me?” Alicia stared at her. “I assure you I quite expect him to hear about it from someone, but I’m certainly not such a fool as to fling this news in his face, ma’am, so you needn’t think it.”
Her words reminded Brittany of that earlier mental view of Alicia casting a gauntlet down for the duke to pick up. Grimacing now as much at the memory as at Alicia’s words, she found herself again taking the initiative. “You will tell him, Alicia,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “My best advice to you would be to await his return tonight, but you certainly must tell him before the first caller arrives tomorrow. Indeed, if he has not already heard the news at White’s, you may count yourself lucky. Many of the gentlemen visit their clubs after an evening at Almack’s. You know perfectly well that Tony and the others meant to do some such thing.”
