by Amanda Scott
As tired as she was of hearing his strictures on her sister’s behavior, she was just as tired of hearing Alicia’s complaints on the delay in the Persian ambassador’s arrival in England. So, when she read that the Duke and Duchess of Kent had arrived safely at last, she hoped that the ambassador’s suite would make the crossing of the Channel very soon. Nor was she to be disappointed. Not long after breakfast on the last Tuesday of April, Alicia came flying into her sister’s bedchamber, the Times clutched in her hand.
“They landed on Sunday, Tani, on Sunday. They will be in London today!”
Brittany did not have to ask for further explanation. “How nice, dear. Perhaps now you will be able to see them at last. In the park, if nowhere else, for surely the ambassador will ride out with his entourage in the late afternoons just like the rest of the beau monde. You must ride in Rotten Row every day.”
“Pooh, I do not mean to await his pleasure, I can tell you that. I mean to see him today, and you are going to go with me.”
7
THE PERSIAN AMBASSADOR, THE fair Circassian, and their extensive and colorful retinue arrived late that afternoon at their new residence in Charles Street, Berkeley Square, and Brittany was there, albeit under protest, to see the splendid cavalcade. Knowing from bitter experience that Alicia would brave all in order to see the ambassador and the young woman she believed to be his slave, Brittany had put up but token resistance to the demand that she bear her sister company. Indeed, by the time the first carriage hove into view, her curiosity was as boundless as Alicia’s, for she had caught the fever of rising excitement from the gathering, enthusiastic crowd.
The ambassador and his companion rode in the first carriage, the blinds of which were securely drawn to prevent their being seen. Two of the three carriages following after contained more than a dozen persons attired in colorful silks and turbans, waving brightly polished daggers and sporting long beards. These persons in no small degree attracted the attention of the crowd, whose curiosity in general had been raised to the highest pitch by those same newspaper accounts perused so avidly by the Lady Alicia Leighton.
“Oh, Tani, look there,” commanded that young lady as the final coach negotiated the turn into Charles Street. “Are those her eunuchs in that carriage, do you suppose? Can you credit the fact that they actually dress her and undress her?” The vehicle to which she referred was an open landau, in which were seated four exceedingly large black persons in the brilliant red, blue and yellow costume of their calling and country. They sat with their muscular bare arms folded across their broad chests, their eyes fixed straight ahead as though the surrounding, wildly cheering crowd did not exist.
Brittany, staring with the rest of the onlookers, caught herself up short and called her sister to order. “Really, Alicia,” she said in a hushed tone, speaking quite close to that young lady’s ear in order to make herself heard above the increasing din, “you must not call attention to yourself like that. We have no business to be here with such a rabble, as you know very well, and if this were to come to Papa’s ears, there is no saying what he might do. You know he has called the common attitude toward the ambassador and his party naught but a lot of fuss over a hoard of damned foreigners. Pray hold your tongue.”
“Oh, pooh,” said Alicia with a chuckle, indicating a sad absence of remorse. “Papa will know nothing of this adventure, and I mean to get as close as I can. Why do you suppose they keep the carriage blinds drawn like that? Poor girl, how can she even catch a glimpse of London, cooped up like a hare in a game bag? Moreover, if she is dressed as those other females are, veiled in yards upon yards of heavy cloth, she must be stifling. Come on, Tani.”
And grabbing her reluctant sister’s elbow, Alicia began to push and wriggle her way through the crowd to a position from whence they might have an unobstructed view of those descending from the first carriage in front of the tall, narrow, elegantly appointed house. Nothing happened for some moments, until Brittany realized that the black men had descended from the landau and were moving without difficulty through the crowd, while people stumbled over each other in order to make a wide path for them. The four, bearing wide-bladed, curving swords, approached the front carriage, and one moved ahead of the others to open the door and let down the steps. The fair Circassian—if it was indeed she, though how anyone might be certain was more than Brittany could say—was the first to alight, and two of the eunuchs swiftly moved to stand protectively on either side of her.
She wore a dark-blue hood that covered the upper part of her head, and a large silk shawl of the same color that draped across the bridge of her nose to screen the lower part of her face from observation. Therefore, her eyes, which even from a distance Brittany could see were dark and truly beautiful, and the lower part of her fair, unlined forehead were the only parts of her alleged beauty that could actually be seen. She was of medium stature, and despite the swirling pale-blue silken robes that covered her body to the toes of her little white satin sandals, it could be seen that she was slender and moved with near-floating grace. Her attitude, however, appeared languid rather than animated as she negotiated the short distance up the steps to the entrance of the house, and Brittany heard more than one person in the vicinity wonder if she were perhaps suffering from illness.
“I’ll wager he’s keeping her under the influence of some exotic drug,” Alicia said accusingly.
Flushing as she realized others in their vicinity had heard the comment, Brittany hushed her sister again. “No doubt it is nothing more than a lingering reaction to the rough passage across the Channel and to too little sleep in Dover,” she said. “Come, Lissa, we shall see nothing more of interest today.”
“Well, the ambassador would not thank you for saying such a thing,” her sister replied with a droll look. “Only look, Tani, there he is now.”
Indeed, his excellency had descended from the carriage, though scarcely anyone was looking his way. It was a shame, Brittany thought, that he drew so little attention, for he was dressed up as fine as fivepence in rich gray satin adorned with a wide scarlet sash and any number of colorful military decorations. He was a slender gentleman of medium height, but he carried himself as though he were quite ten feet tall, she thought. A proud chocolate soldier, that was what he put her in mind of.
“Only look at that dagger,” Alicia muttered. “Imagine carrying such a gaudy thing in London.”
“Many gentlemen still carry sabers with their dress uniforms, after all,” Brittany said pacifically. “No doubt it is part of his. ’Tis more a dirk than a dagger, anyway, with all those marvelous jewels stuck in the handle like that. Only look at that diamond in the center. Surely such a large stone cannot be real.”
Once the entourage had disappeared behind the tall narrow doors, the crowd began slowly to disperse, although some hardier souls were clearly prepared to remain in hopes of seeing something more. When Alicia expressed a desire to remain with them, Brittany spoke more sharply than was her custom. “On no account in the world,” she said. “We are going back to Malmesbury House at once and I will brook no argument on the matter, Alicia. I ought never to have allowed you to come here in the first place, and I have no doubt I shall come to regret having done so before we are, either of us, very much older.”
“Oh, pooh, Tani, only admit that you enjoyed the excitement as much as I did. Was it not a spectacle worth seeing?”
Grimacing ruefully, Brittany confessed that it had been a spectacle indeed. “But you must promise me that you will be satisfied with having seen her this one and only time, Lissa. You must not come here again.”
“Oh, if you like,” said Alicia lightly, “though I did not really see her, of course, and I do think it a shame that no one will make the least push to rescue her from such a dreadful fate.”
Brittany sighed, but as they had reached their landaulette, she said no more, merely hoping her younger sister would remember when the time came that she had promised to leave well enough alone. She could not
pretend, however, that she had much faith in Alicia’s word, particularly since Alicia had not actually given anything remotely resembling a solemn promise.
The journey back to Malmesbury House was spent listening while Alicia exclaimed once again over each detail of what she had seen, but if Brittany hoped that this prattling would prevent her sister from telling the world at large that she had been present to witness the ambassador’s arrival, she was beside the bridge, as she discovered the moment their carriage drew up before her father’s house. To her dismay, Faringdon was on the doorstep, and when he saw who was in the carriage, he ran lightly down the steps to meet them. Alicia’s first words brought a heavy scowl to his face.
“Oh, Tony, guess where we have been? To see the fair Circassian! Oh, and the ambassador, of course.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” he demanded before they had even begun to alight from the carriage.
Brittany glanced uneasily at John Footman waiting beside the steps to help her down. “We can discuss it inside, sir,” she said gently.
But Faringdon didn’t care a rap for the footman nor yet for the coachman perched aloft. “We’ll dashed well have an explanation at once, my girl,” he said awfully. “Do you mean to tell me you aided this brat in perpetrating such a mischief?”
“If you mean was I with her when she witnessed the ambassador’s arrival, certainly I was,” Brittany said with dignity. “Alicia would never have been so misguided as to remain on the scene, had she been alone.”
“Then she ought better to have been alone,” he snapped, reaching to take her arm and thus causing the poor footman to step back awkwardly against the open carriage door. “Watch what you’re about, fellow,” the earl commanded. “Here, Brittany, give me your hand, dammit, and come down from there. You, too, brat, we’re going to have words, the three of us.”
“For goodness’ sake, Tony,” Alicia told him in waspish tones, remaining firmly in her seat, “you need not make a gift of your theatrical emoting to the entire street. Do try for a little conduct, my lord, for you can scarcely dare to criticize our behavior when you behave so badly yourself, and so I tell you to your head. Now unhand Tani. You treat her as though she were a sack of potatoes and you a merchant hauling them to market. Look to your own actions, sir, before you attempt to reprimand others.”
“We’ll just see that,” grumbled the earl, but he released Brittany as he reached into the landaulette for Alicia. On her dignity, that young lady allowed him to help her from the carriage, looking down her nose at him the while, as though she dared him to handle her roughly. However, if he heeded her warning at all, it was merely by virtue of the fact that he held his tongue until they reached the front hall. Then, when Alicia moved purposefully toward the grand, flying stair, he reached out again and caught her firmly by her elbow. “Oh, no you don’t, my girl,” he said angrily. “You are coming into the blue salon with me, where we shall discuss your recent activities. You, too, Brittany,” he added when Brittany opened her mouth to protest his action. “You have a deal to answer for this day, and you will answer to me at once.”
That he was furious was obvious, so she went with him calmly, hoping only that Alicia would keep a still tongue in her head and allow him to vent his anger uninterrupted. That hope proved to be a vain one.
“You’ve not the slightest business to speak so to Brittany or to me,” said Alicia the moment the doors had closed behind them. “You are only betrothed to her, for pity’s sake. You have not been named her keeper. And until she is actually so foolish as to marry you, you have little to say about what she does. So there, my lord.”
“Do not press me too hard,” Faringdon warned ominously.
“Tony, she is right,” Brittany said, keeping her temper with an effort. “You truly have no right to take either of us to task. Oh, perhaps some small right where I am concerned, since I have agreed to marry you, but indeed, we did nothing wrong. No one knew who we were, I promise you, and we came away as soon as the cavalcade was done.”
He turned on her, his face black with anger. “How dare you say you did nothing wrong? You know perfectly well that this venture was no more than a foolish and improper attempt to see Alicia’s mystery lady. Curiosity is a most unbecoming trait in any young woman, and you have an odd notion of my responsibilities if you think I have no say in matters when you allow a young innocent to have her head in such a business as this. What a cockbrained thing to have done, Brittany. She might have been injured in the crowd. You might have, yourself, for all that. You didn’t think, either of you, and that’s the nut with no bark on it. I’ve a good mind to go straight to the duke and see what he makes of this tale.”
Alicia cut in before Brittany could speak, telling his lordship that she didn’t care a whisker what he did with himself, and if he wished to be so ungentlemanly as to cry rope on them to the duke, he might do so with her goodwill. She proceeded from there to read him a very unflattering description of his character, and when Faringdon returned the favor in tones more common in the nursery wing than in the duchess’s salon, Brittany came perilously near to speaking up herself to tell her betrothed that he might take himself off if their company was so repugnant to him, that she would give him his freedom at once, completely and without prejudice. Before a suitable lull came in the rapid-fire exchange of personalities, however, Pinchbeck entered and, without losing a jot of his own stately dignity, announced that the Marquess of Cheriton, Mr. Carrisbrooke, and Lord Toby Welshpool stood without in the great hall and begged to be informed if their ladyships were at home.
“Aye, have them in at once,” declared Faringdon, arms akimbo. “We’ll just see what they have to say about this business.”
Brittany, drawing a long cleansing breath, gave him a look. “Sir,” she said, controlling her voice with an effort, “I believe that if you reconsider the matter, you will realize that this argument has no place in polite conversation. Pray have the goodness to refrain from brandishing our private affairs before the world at large.”
Faringdon shot her a fierce, resentful glare from under his eyebrows, but when she failed to respond with anything more than a steady look, he shrugged. “Oh, very well, but you needn’t think the matter over and done, for it ain’t. Not by a long chalk. I’ve a good deal more to say.”
“We don’t doubt it,” said Alicia on a note of purring provocation, “but you must consider, sir, whether anyone wishes to listen to you.”
As he turned sharply toward the younger girl, Brittany looked at the butler in helpless exasperation. “Show them in, Pinchbeck.” Looking back at Faringdon, meaning to repeat her warning to him, she saw him looking at Alicia in an extraordinary way. The girl had turned haughtily away from him and was looking out the window as though the terrace and little side garden were quite the most fascinating of their ilk that she had ever seen, and Faringdon’s expression as he watched her was totally unguarded. The breath caught in Brittany’s throat. He had never, to her knowledge, looked at her like that, for his expression was an odd mixture of hunger, frustration, and passion—indeed, exactly the sort described by Alicia’s favorite authors when describing a hero sent to grass by love.
A noise from behind recalled her to her senses, and she turned to see that their callers were on the point of entering the room. Cheriton stood in the open doorway, and she saw at once that he had observed Faringdon as she had. The marquess’s chilly gray eyes shifted suddenly from the earl, catching her gaze and holding it, and Brittany felt, as she had felt before with him, that he held her mind captive, that he was reading her very most private thoughts. Warmth crept into her cheeks and she tried to drag her gaze from his but found she could not do so. It was as though they had all of them been turned to statues, frozen in place.
Then Lord Toby said cheerfully, “No doubt you are unaware of your vast size, Cheriton, but you are quite blocking the doorway, don’t you know. Move your bulk, lad, and let a better man join the party.”
“Two better
men,” murmured Carrisbrooke, standing behind him.
As Cheriton stepped obediently forward, his gaze softened and a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. There was now such a look of understanding in his eyes that Brittany felt tears creep to her own. She moved swiftly to a chair near the window, hoping that with the light behind her no one would notice. Her voice, when she spoke the expected welcoming recitation, was admirably steady. “Do come in and sit down, gentlemen. My mother is not at home presently and will be sorry to have missed you. Shall I request that Pinchbeck bring you refreshment?”
“Nothing for me, ma’am,” said the marquess quietly. “Toby? Carrisbrooke?”
“No, no, we’ve been doing the polite all over town, and I beg you won’t serve us a thing,” said the latter young man with a grin. “Nearly tipsy already, and it lacks but an hour or so to dinnertime. Only came to discover if you mean to attend Lady Cowper’s rout tonight or the Lynsteds’ drum.”
“Yes, I believe Mama has put both events on our list,” Brittany said. Her habitual calm was nearly restored now, but her mind was racing even as she spoke. “There are several hostesses we mean to delight with our presence tonight, sir, like any night this time of year, but I believe the rout is first on that list. Mama hates a crush if it can be avoided—unless of course it is her own crush—and parties are already growing bigger day by day. I trust you have all received your invitations to our ball.”
Carrisbrooke and Cheriton nodded, as Lord Toby replied enthusiastically, “Indeed, yes. Wouldn’t miss it, assure you.”
Faringdon had remained silent, but Brittany could tell his temper was anything but restored. She hoped fervently that neither of his friends would demand an explanation of his silence. But she needn’t have worried. None of the three gentlemen was so lacking in tact as to do such a thing. They took their leave soon afterward, firmly bearing the earl along with them. For that maneuver, Brittany gave Cheriton full marks, for it had been he who had insisted that Faringdon bear them company.
