Passion and Pretense

by Susan Gee Heino

  “If you don’t mind, Anthony,” she said, “the wind was getting rather chilly out there and I’d very much like to go refresh myself and warm up a bit before you regale me with another sermon.”

  “I’m not planning to waste any more of my breath on sermons for you, sister dear. You know very well you were behaving like a hoyden out there, but to be honest, I couldn’t care less. Before long you’ll be Lord Harry’s problem, not mine. I feel quite justified in maintaining my silence regarding that shameless display. I would, however, like to inform you that you have a visitor.”

  Oh. Well, now. That was unexpected.

  “A visitor? Who?”

  “I believe you’ll find Miss Bradley waiting for you upstairs.”

  “Maria is here?”

  “She arrived some minutes ago and said it was quite important that she see you. I told her you were out, and that our mother is out, as well, but she practically begged me to allow her to wait. So, I did.”

  “Her aunt is not with her?”

  “No, it seems she’s come alone.”

  Oh my! Whatever could be so important that Maria would choose to sit here alone when she would have had no idea how long it might be? Goodness, she’d best hurry to find out.

  “Thank you, Anthony. I’d best run up to her.”

  “Yes, you’d best.”

  She started back up the steps, thankful for a variety of reasons for her dearest friend. Mostly for the fact that her presence likely had something to do with Anthony’s willingness to forgo the sermon. She’d have to do something very, very nice for Maria in return.

  “And Penelope,” he called after her.

  She paused and turned, only slightly hesitant.

  “I know I’m hardly the one to make comment,” he said. “My own courtship was certainly unconventional, but please, Penelope, for our mother’s sake, will you refrain from allowing Chesterton to veritably devour you right out in public that way? You may not care what people say, but our mother does.”

  She nodded. Indeed, unconventional was the mildest word possible to describe what passed between Anthony and his wife, Julia, before they were wed. Mamma had gone through all sorts of agonies as she worried for Anthony’s well-being and was forced to hear the rumors whispered all through society until things were finally sorted out. Surely she was putting their mother through something much the same.

  The only difference in that case, however, was that Anthony and Julia were madly in love with each other. In the end they made it all work out and had been happy ever since. This time things would end differently. There would be no happy ending for her and Lord Harry. Poor Mamma would have to endure all the rumors only to see her daughter run off to Egypt in the end, still unmarried and very likely quite damaged by gossip and innuendo.

  “Very well, Anthony. I’ll be more careful.”

  “Thank you,” he said and turned to go about his business.

  She was glad he didn’t prolong the conversation. It was a subject she would have much rather not thought about. This plan was beginning to feel less and less like the brilliant idea she’d initially thought it.

  Chapter Nine

  “Thank heavens you’re back before the rain,” Maria said, leaping up from her seat near the window when Penelope entered her room.

  “Yes, and I’m lucky to be back at all. You would not believe what happened to me today!”

  Maria seemed far less concerned by Penelope’s pronouncement than a best friend ought to be. In fact, Penelope thought she distinctly detected a frown.

  “I could believe just about anything, I’m afraid,” Maria said. “I saw you down there in the street, letting that man take all manner of liberties with your person.”

  “Oh bother. Must you be such a prude, Maria? I explained to you that Lord Harry must pretend to be my doting fiancé so that—”

  “Oh, I know how you explain it, Penelope. But pretending would mean public flattery or an overeagerness to open doors for you and pull out your chair at dinner. No, what I saw that man doing just now went far, far beyond pretending.”

  Penelope felt her cheeks burning. She busied herself removing her bonnet and gloves, hanging her wrapper on the peg behind the door. No way would she let Maria see her blushing on Lord Harry’s account. That would as much as admit she was guilty of enjoying the man’s pretending.

  Thankfully, the ugly wrapper seemed to finally be worth something, after all. It distracted Maria from whatever rant she had been going to make.

  “Good gracious! You bought that hideous thing!”

  “No, I did not,” Penelope was pleased to inform. “Lord Harry bought it for me as a part of his effort to play fiancé. Apparently the shopkeeper told him I had admired it.”

  She expected that the sweet irony of it all would be more than enough to wipe all thoughts of sermonizing out of Maria’s usually tolerant head. It didn’t.

  “So now he is buying you things?”

  “It is part of the act, Maria. Fiancés often buy things for their lovers, I’m told.”

  “Take care, Penelope. Lord Harry may have already forgotten he is merely supposed to be playacting the part of lover.”

  “Don’t be silly. Lord Harry is not in love with me.”

  “Of course he’s not in love with you, ninny. No one would ever imagine that he is! That’s what makes it all the more dreadful. Can’t you see?”

  “I see that you are overreacting.”

  “Am I? It appears to me that Lord Harry thinks you’ve given him free license to use you for all manner of sordid things. One might expect you to overreact a bit.”

  “Lord Harry has a perfectly good grasp of our arrangement.”

  “Yes, I believe I just witnessed him grasping your arrangement. He seemed quite pleased with it, too.”

  She purposely pretended not to comprehend Maria’s meaning. “It’s a perfectly useful arrangement and you have no reason to be so out of sorts over this.”

  But Maria was out of sorts. That much was obvious. “Useful indeed, Penelope. He’s using you and you’re doing nothing to deter him!”

  “Is this the great emergency that brought you over here all alone today, Maria? You came without your aunt just so you could scold me about my personal affairs?”

  “Not entirely, but I can see it is well needed.”

  “Very well, you’ve done your duty and expressed your concern. Consider me scolded. Now, what is it you really came to see me about?”

  Finally Maria was at a loss for words. Penelope waited as concern, doubt, frustration, and finally confusion flitted across her friend’s face. She couldn’t begin to understand what Maria was preparing to say, but it certainly did appear to require much effort. Hopefully it was something other than more scolding.

  “Er, will you be attending Lady Burlington’s ball?” Maria asked at long last.

  Well, that was certainly not worth all the facial expressions. What a bit of a letdown, decidedly.

  “Yes, I plan to attend.”

  “Oh,” Maria said, nodding. “Good. Yes, we will have an enjoyable evening then.”

  “Yes, I should expect we will.”

  “Assuredly.”

  “Positively.”

  There was another pause before Maria continued. “And do you know what you will be wearing?”

  “I do.”

  “Oh,” Maria said, with more nodding and another pause.

  “Would you like me to tell you about it?” Penelope asked.

  “Indeed! Yes, do tell me about it.”

  “I’ll be wearing my new gown, the white one shot through and bordered with gold threads.”

  “Ah, yes, that should be lovely,” Maria said, but Penelope wasn’t entirely certain her friend was paying attention.

  “And I thought I’d wear my gold silk slippers, even though they are truly from last Season.”

  “Oh, indeed, that will be lovely,” Maria remarked, idly picking at lint on her sleeve.

  “And Mamm
a said I could borrow her turban, the one she wore last week to the theater.”

  “Yes, perfect for you.”

  “And I thought I should put bright feathers in it, seven feet high.”

  “So you should; yes, indeed.”

  “In fact, I’ve decided to put a whole live peacock on my head and stroll through Hyde Park dressed as Napoleon.”

  “Hmm, yes, that would be just the thing…”

  “Maria, you are not even listening to me! For heaven’s sake, what on earth is wrong with you today?”

  “What? Nothing! Why should you accuse me of having anything wrong today?”

  “I’m not accusing you, I’m worrying for you. The scolding, yes, I suppose I should expect some of that from you—you’d hardly be a friend if you did not worry at least a tiny bit—but now you will not tell me what brought you here. I know it was not merely to hear me describe my planned attire.”

  At last Maria was paying attention. She sighed and twisted her hands together. “Truthfully, it is partially about that. I did wish to hear about your clothing.”

  “Then why weren’t you listening? Clearly there is something more.”

  “It’s just that you always look so pretty when you are out. You go to everyone’s ball and you are always the prettiest lady in attendance. I was simply…well, I was hoping perhaps you could give me some notion how to improve my looks. A bit.”

  Whatever Penelope had been expecting to hear, it was not this. Especially not from Maria! Her friend had never given half a thought to such trivial things as appearance and who was prettier than whom, or any such female nonsense. At least, not in any specific way. Certainly they’d discussed other ladies’ appearances, but this was the first time Penelope could sense Maria’s opinions being of such a personal nature.

  Usually Maria was pragmatic about her appearance. Clothing, she pronounced, was for keeping a body warm and promoting public decency in a socially acceptable fashion. In the years since they had grown up together, Penelope had never known Maria to put any effort into her attire beyond suiting those purposes. Her dearest friend was faultlessly demure, intentionally reserved, and always socially acceptable. She was never truly pretty. Now today the woman wanted to shine?

  Surely there must be a reason for this sudden—and drastic— personality change.

  “You always look quite nice,” Penelope began. Tact was certainly required in this sort of conversation. “But if you are interested in making improvements, I’m sure we can find some areas for, er, refining.”

  “Yes, I should like that. How shall we go about it, then? Would you come to my house and go through my wardrobe with me?”

  “Yes, we could do that…”

  Or we could throw those frumpish old rags out to the gutter and head for the dressmaker! But no, she could not suggest that, of course. It might hurt dear Maria’s feelings. Besides, the ball was tonight. There was simply no time.

  “Why don’t you have a look through my gowns, Maria? I have some that have hardly been worn. You might see one you like. We could trim it and have my maid let out the hem. Surely no one would recognize it as mine.”

  “Truly? Do you think we could do that? Your gowns are ever so lovely.”

  By heavens, she thought her friend was about to become giddy. Over gowns! It was the oddest thing ever. Who could have imagined Maria had this vein of female vanity running through her like this?

  “Of course we could do that,” she said, and trotted over to open the clothes press. Lace and muslin and flounces and color of every sort spilled out.

  She smiled at her friend as a beautiful—truly pretty—pink blush crept into the young woman’s cheeks. She could honestly never recall seeing that before. My, but it was most becoming, as a matter of fact.

  “Just one question, if I may,” Penelope said, knowing it would make the pink blush go even deeper. “Who is the fortunate fellow you’ve set your eye upon?”

  POCKETS ONLY SLIGHTLY HEAVIER AFTER SELLING HIS old, battered gig, Harris walked along the streets of Mayfair toward the far less fashionable area where his own bachelor quarters were. He’d left Rastmoor’s grand gift back in the mews near Rastmoor House, mostly because his benefactor had already paid for the phaeton’s keeping there and Harris was damned if he could figure out how to pay to keep the bloody thing in any of the ramshackle mews nearer to his petty lodgings. Likely the carriage would be a far sight safer where it was.

  But since he’d already found a buyer for his old conveyance, this meant Harris would be forced to dodge raindrops. He appeared to lack talent for it. Already he was soaked through.

  An awning over a nearby doorway provided temporary respite, so he ducked under it. He nodded to the other soggy gentleman who was already there for the same apparent reason. Then he realized he knew the soggy gentleman.

  “Ferrel?”

  His cousin glanced up at him through bedraggled hair and gave half a smile. “Oh, I see you got caught in this, too.”

  “But what are you doing? Where did you leave your horse?”

  “Hmm? Oh, my horse.” Ferrel didn’t bother to answer the question but merely shrugged. “Wet stuff, this rain.”

  “Yes, that’s generally the way of it.”

  “I suppose my coat is ruined.”

  “It does appear so.”

  “Damn.”

  “Markland said you were off to some other engagement. What are you doing out here?” Harris asked, unable to dredge up much sympathy for the man’s coat when he could have easily been out of the elements.

  The young fool had no reason to be dripping just now. He had not been cut off by everyone who shared his name. He, presumably, could afford to live in a convenient location and not be forced into walking all over the bloody town when rain clouds threatened.

  “I’m trying to get pneumonia,” Ferrel said.

  “Oh. Well, in that case, you seem to be doing well. Another fifteen minutes of this chill and you’ll end up fully miserable.”

  “Good. With luck I’ll die.”

  “Luck? There’s no good luck in it for me. I don’t stand to inherit a penny should you knock off, Ferrel. You might as well just go on living.”

  But Ferrel didn’t seem to see any humor in this. Apparently he’d been in earnest about trying to catch something deadly. Stupid pup.

  “Bah. What point is there in living? Nothing in it for me.”

  “You’ve got a couple thousand a year and no one dunning you,” Harris reminded. “That’s something.”

  “That’s easy for you to say when you’ve got a beautiful woman set to marry you and her family singing your praises.”

  Harris could barely believe it, but from all appearances the man was again serious. He had to put forth real effort to keep from laughing at him. Oh, but if his cousin had any idea how things really stood!

  “Ah, yes. I’m a lucky man,” he managed to choke out fairly convincingly.

  “You are. Miss Rastmoor is an attractive and good-natured person. You will be very happy with her.”

  Now he did laugh. “Not if I can’t come up with some way to get myself invited to Lady Burlington’s ball tonight.”

  “What? Why should you want to go to that dull flap?”

  “I don’t. But Miss Rastmoor fully expects me to be there and to dance with her.”

  “She’ll be there?”

  “So she declares.”

  For the first time a hint of life came back into Ferrel’s downcast eyes. “I had no idea there would be so many young people at the event.”

  “I don’t know about that, but she’s quite looking forward to attending. Yes, I suppose that would mean there will be others of her set there.”

  “Well, I have an invite to the ball,” Ferrel said. “Surely you could come along with me. If Lady Burlington has invited your cousin as well as your fiancé, surely she could have no objection to you attending, could she?”

  Oh, she quite certainly could. But it would be crowded, and her f
riends would all be there as well as a good number of influential people she had, no doubt, invited to impress. Would the woman really create a scene if he were to walk through the door? No, he suspected not.

  “That would be excellent, Ferrel. I would love to attend with you.”

  “Well, I wasn’t fully planning to go, but if you wish to attend…and if your lovely Miss Rastmoor will be there…yes, I should do it. We will arrive together.”

  Yes, they would. It would make it just that much harder for the lady to cast Harris back out into the street. He would show a good face for the very generous Rastmoor, as well as do a bit of investigating Lady Burlington’s home. And of course he’d be keeping his end of the bargain with Miss Rastmoor. At least, that is what he’d lead her to believe.

  “I HAVEN’T THE SLIGHTEST IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING about,” Maria said.

  Nothing Penelope did seemed to sway the girl from holding to that line, either.

  “Honestly, Maria,” Penelope finally said in frustration. “There’s no shame in it. For heaven’s sake, it’s about time you started noticing men. They are all around us, you know.”

  “Generally they are all around you,” Maria replied. “I simply thought perhaps I ought to take greater pains to look, er, less plain.”

  “Which leads me—again—to ask why? There must be someone you’re hoping will see you appearing less plain, someone particular.”

  “No! Why must there be someone particular? Have I ever given indication there is?”

  Penelope thought about that a moment, then had to shake her head. “No, you have not, which makes this all that much more of a puzzle to me.”

  Maria had been sitting quietly but now she made as if to rise. “If my wish to be less plain is causing hardship for your small brain, Penelope, then I will be only too happy to leave.”

  “Ah, so now I have a small brain, do I?”

  “Sorry. You know I do not mean that. I’m afraid my aunt has gotten me all worked up today.”

  “So there is more to it!” She left the assortment of gowns she had laid out on her bed and went to sit beside her friend. “Tell me. What has she done?”