The Black Widow

by Charlotte Louise Dolan

  “Hester! That is a terrible accusation to make. I would never dream of behaving in such a brazen manner. How can you even suggest such a thing?”

  “Well, perhaps you have not, but the only other explanation is that he has set one of his servants to spy on us. Well, this time his deviousness is not going to benefit him in the slightest.” Hester grabbed Meribe’s arm and began to hustle her along the path away from the approaching carriage.

  “Release my arm,” Meribe hissed, pulling back. “You are only making us conspicuous by charging along at such a reckless pace.”

  “I? It is not me everyone is staring at. And if you do not wish to be gawked at, you should have stayed home today. I could have brought one of the other maids in your place.”

  Which was not at all what Hester had asserted earlier when she had insisted that she would be utterly cast down if Meribe refused this one tiny favor. But at least her sister now moderated her pace somewhat, for which Meribe was thankful. “Oh, Hester, must we always quarrel?”

  “As long as you keep seeing that man, we must.”

  “What do you have against Lord Thorverton?”

  “I strongly suspect he is playing you for a fool. Everyone knows that Diana Fairgrove broke his heart when she eloped with Lord Hazelmore. You delude yourself if you think Lord Thorverton will marry an insignificant little nobody like you after he has been betrothed to such a beauty. After all, if it were not for the fact that all your suitors have met untimely ends, you would be quite overlooked by society.’’

  Meribe dug in her heels and stopped so abruptly she managed to pull her arm free from her sister’s grasp. “You go too far this time,” she said in a choked voice.

  Turning around, she began to walk as quickly as possible in the opposite direction, her only intention being to put as much distance between herself and her sister as possible. The tears in her eyes made it difficult to see where she was going, so it must have been fate that led her directly past Lord Thorverton’s carriage, which was stalled behind another phaeton and two landaus.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Prestwich,” he said politely, his familiar voice halting her headlong flight. “Would you care to join me for a turn around the park?”

  About to make her usual excuses, Meribe abruptly changed her mind. The opportunity to spend a little time with a person who did not fuss and crab at her—with someone who seemed actually to enjoy her company—was too tempting to refuse.

  Amid murmurs and gasps from the passersby, she allowed his groom, who had sprung down from the back of the phaeton, to assist her into the carriage. Then he stepped back out of the way, and Lord Thorverton flicked the reins, and the carriage moved forward, albeit slowly since the crush of vehicles was too great to permit sustained progress.

  “Something has upset you,” he said in a low voice.

  Surreptitiously wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with the tip of her glove, Meribe was grateful that he was looking at his horses and not at her. She did not want him to gain the erroneous impression that she was by nature a watering pot.

  “It was nothing, really. My sister sometimes ...” She could not think of a tactful way to say that Hester’s barbed comments sometimes cut to the quick, but Lord Thorverton nodded anyway, understanding what she meant without needing her to finish the sentence. It was one of the things that made him such an easy person to converse with.

  “Do you know,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “it is not always easy being the elder brother or sister. I imagine my younger brother sometimes finds me every bit as aggravating as you do your sister.’’

  Now, that was plainly a taradiddle. Lord Thorverton was so easygoing, so kindhearted, so ... so amiable that he could never say anything unkind to anyone, especially not to his own brother. Although—she sneaked a peek at him—she had to admit that when he became angry about an injustice, he could look truly formidable.

  Luckily he had never become angry at her, and she could only pray that circumstances would never force her to feel the brunt of his wrath.

  Glancing at the carriage approaching them, Meribe was caught totally off-guard by the sight of Lady Hazelmore, who waved gaily at them, or rather, she was waving and smiling at Lord Thorverton while ignoring Meribe as if they had never been introduced—as if she had never come to the Prestwich residence and poured her heart out to Meribe.

  Perhaps it was the deliberate slight that made Meribe ask the question that had been nagging at her for days, ever since she had heard the tale of the broken betrothal ... or perhaps it was pure jealousy that Lord Thorverton had just now politely tipped his hat to the other woman. Whatever her motive, as soon as the other carriage was safely past them, Meribe heard herself blurt out the question she had never intended to ask.

  “Was your heart truly broken?”

  Lord Thorverton looked down at her, his expression enigmatic. “My heart?”

  Even though she would have preferred to jump down out of the carriage and run away, she said with the best display of boldness that she could muster, “Lady Hazelmore paid me a visit a few days ago and told me the whole story of your betrothal and her subsequent elopement. ‘‘

  “She did what?” Clearly Lord Thorverton was as astonished as she herself had been. “Why on earth would she do something like that?’’

  “I am sure I could not say what her true motives were,” Meribe answered, unaccountably feeling a little miffed that he had not immediately asserted that his heart was still completely intact. “In any case, she told me she felt it was her duty to warn me that you are merely trifling with my affections—that you will never actually marry me.”

  “You did not tell her about our plan, did you?” he asked, intentionally—or so it seemed to her—ignoring the much more interesting question of whether or not his heart had been broken.

  “As a matter of fact, I did not tell her anything. Unlike some people, I am quite able to control my tongue,” Meribe said rather crossly, deliberately overlooking the fact that her tongue had been running away with her ever since she joined Lord Thorverton in his carriage.

  “I am relieved to hear that,” he said. “I should hate to think my exertions on your behalf were all for naught.’’

  It was common knowledge back in Norfolk that Meribe’s disposition was quite even. She had never been given to displays of temper like her older sister. Right now, however, Meribe realized that a few well-chosen oaths would go a long way toward relieving her aggravation—aggravation caused both directly and indirectly by the man seated beside her.

  Instead, remembering her aunt’s frequent admonitions to behave in a ladylike manner at all times, Meribe contented herself with saying, “We were not discussing your efforts to disprove the curse. The question that I asked—and which you have not yet answered—is whether or not your heart was broken.”

  And secondarily, she said to herself, some of us were wondering what your intentions are. But she knew the answer to that. He had made it clear from the beginning that he was merely being gallant—that he was not smitten by her charms, which Hester had just insisted were nonexistent.

  He grinned, then actually chuckled. “Without wishing to say anything derogatory about someone I have been acquainted with since childhood, not a day has gone by since then that I have not been grateful to a merciful providence for my narrow escape.”

  There was no way she could doubt that he was telling the truth—there was too much boyish glee in his smile to think he was merely attempting to conceal a broken heart. She could not keep a similar smile from her own face, and the rest of the drive around the park was spent discussing quite amiably the news he had received from Devon about his stud.

  * * * *

  It must have been an evil fairy that had inspired Lady Letitia to invite Lady Thorverton to take a turn around the park in her carriage. Although Dorothea could be a pleasant-enough companion in the normal course of events, she was really a most disagreeable woman when things did not fa
ll out according to her wishes. And it had become immediately—but unfortunately not immediately enough—obvious to Lady Letitia that her companion was most definitely having an off day.

  Instead of showing proper appreciation for the honor of sitting beside Lady Letitia, Dorothea was casting fulminating looks at her son, whose carriage was but a short distance ahead of them.

  “Control yourself, Dorothea, if you please. You look as if you are ready to throw yourself in front of your son’s phaeton, which is a bit too dramatic even for you. Are you so set on having your son remain a bachelor?”

  “Do not be ridiculous—I should like nothing better than to have him marry and set up his nursery, but that wretched boy refuses point-blank to meet the daughters of any of my friends.’’

  “I rather think he has already got his heart set on a particular young lady.”

  “Fustian! That wretched girl is nothing more than a scheming hussy seeking to entrap my son, and he is only encouraging her because he knows it will upset me. His father was just such a one—obstinate, stubborn, pigheaded. And Demetrius takes after him—he positively delights in running counter to my wishes. I am sure if I welcomed that chit with open arms, he would drop her in an instant.’’

  Dorothea had always been prideful, even as a young girl, and Lady Letitia found it no more attractive now than she had years earlier. It was surprising that Demetrius and Collier had turned out so nicely. They obviously had a lot of their father in them. He had been such a sweet man, but no match really for his wife.

  “I suppose you have had a hand in this,” Lady Thorverton now muttered. “I know very well that you delight in matchmaking.”

  “I? Really, Dorothea, it was not I who sent a letter to Devon demanding that Lord Thorverton come posthaste to London.”

  “Well, now that he has accomplished the task I gave him, I am amazed that he has not rushed back to his precious horses.”

  What amazed Lady Letitia was how quickly certain people could give her a headache. Thank goodness neither Demetrius nor Collier had inherited their mother’s self-centeredness and conceit.

  * * * *

  After having been abandoned in public by her sister, Hester was quite relieved when Lionell Rudd minced over to where she was standing and invited her to walk along with him a bit.

  “It is not fair,” she said, taking his arm.

  “What is not fair, my love?” Lionell asked.

  “Over there—my sister,” was all Hester said before she turned her head away, unable to bear the sight of Meribe smiling and talking with Lord Thorverton. Only a few more weeks and it would not matter, but for now he absolutely must not court Meribe—not when everything could still be lost.

  “He does give the impression of being totally infatuated with her, I must admit,” Lionell said with a smirk.

  “You may find it amusing, but I do not.”

  “Tsk, tsk, do I detect a note of jealousy in your voice? Pray moderate your tones, my sweet, else you will encourage all and sundry to be amused at your expense.”

  Lowering her voice, she persisted in trying to elicit his opinion. “I want to know what you think. Are Thorverton’s intentions serious? Or is he merely trifling with her? It is most important that I know.’’

  “Who can predict what any man will do? All I can tell you is that the odds in the clubs are now two to one that Thorverton will expire before the month of May is out, and seven to one that he will not live to see July, so I would say the consensus is that he is seriously courting your sister.”

  “It is just not fair,” Hester repeated, feeling physically ill at the mere thought of her sister being betrothed once again.

  * * * *

  “Might I suggest your new periwinkle-blue waistcoat?” Fredericks said, his expression carefully bland.

  “I was unaware that I had a new waistcoat,” Demetrius replied with a frown.

  “A present from your mother,” his valet answered a bit too promptly.

  For a moment Demetrius was torn between anger and amusement. “Need I point out that I have not allowed my mother to pick out my clothes since I ceased wearing short coats?”

  “Do you wish me to dispose of the offending garment, then, m’lord?”

  “That depends on how offensive it is,” Demetrius replied, unable to keep a straight face any longer.

  “Oh, it is actually quite stunning.” With a flourish, Fredericks produced the aforementioned waistcoat from behind his back.

  He was right. At the first sight of the waistcoat, Demetrius was too stunned to speak for a few minutes. The garment may have been blue, but very little of the fabric was showing, so encrusted was it with gold and silver embroidery, seed pearls, and ...

  “Diamonds, Fredericks? Have my mother’s wits gone begging? Does she really expect me to wear that ... that ...?” Words failed him again.

  “Actually, this is only the first of many. The boy who delivered it informed me that your mother has ordered an entire wardrobe for you from Nugee.”

  “Ecod, you make my blood run cold!”

  “I took the liberty of using your name to cancel the remainder of the items,” the valet said smoothly. “I trust that meets with your approval?”

  “Can you doubt it? You have definitely earned yourself a raise,” Demetrius said, still staring in awe at the waistcoat.

  There was a knock at the door, and Fredericks opened it to admit the butler.

  “Beg pardon, m’lord, but Lady Thorverton requests that you join her in the drawing room.”

  “Who does she have with her this time?’’

  “Why, no one,” McDougal answered. “I believe she is expecting company for dinner, but for the moment she wishes to speak with you alone.”

  “Then tell her I shall be down when I am finished dressing.”

  It was about ten minutes before Demetrius joined his mother, who eyed him through her quizzing glass with distaste.

  “That coat was obviously made by that wretched little man—I shall not dignify him by calling him a tailor—in Tavistock. Well, you will be pleased to know that I have taken steps to procure a wardrobe for you that is more suited to London.”

  Demetrius was far from pleased, and he was tempted to tell her that her plans had already suffered a major setback, but he held his tongue. He was not really in the mood to listen to the recriminations and accusations that were bound to ensue when she discovered for herself that her orders had been canceled.

  “Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me besides the unsuitability of my attire?’’

  “Yes, I have invited several friends over for dinner this evening. They have all expressed an eagerness to meet you.”

  “I am sorry to disappoint them, madam, but I have already made my plans for this evening.” He hadn’t actually decided how he would spend the evening, but under no circumstances was he going to let his mother know that. She was too determined to play the matchmaker.

  “Then you must simply cancel them. It lacks but an hour until our guests arrive, and you will quite throw off the numbers if you refuse to oblige me in this small matter.’’

  Demetrius shrugged. “I am afraid that is not possible. You should have consulted me earlier.’’

  “And would you have agreed if I had?”

  “Certainly not,” he said bluntly, “but that would have given you time to arrange for someone in my stead.”

  “I cannot understand why you delight in embarrassing me this way in front of my friends.”

  “You wrong me, madam. I have always done my best to avoid any contact with your friends.”

  “Oh, oh, how can you speak this way to your own mother?” Clutching her hands to her breast, she collapsed against the back of the settee. “What have I done to deserve such ungrateful sons? If your father could only see how you flout my every wish, he would turn over in his grave. That I should have nursed two such vipers to my bosom! It is all that wretched woman’s fault—she has turned you against me!”
>
  “If by ‘that wretched woman’ you are referring to Miss Prestwich, you might consider inviting her to dine with us. I should be quite agreeable to a dinner party here that included her.’’

  Instantly his mother abandoned her die-away airs. Jumping to her feet, she closed the distance between them and glared up at him. “The Prestwichs may still be acceptable to some people, although they are never invited where there are marriageable sons, but be that as it may, never, never shall I invite any member of that family into my house!’’

  Accustomed as he was to his mother’s dramatic utterances, Demetrius stood his ground without flinching. “I was unaware that you were acquainted with Miss Meribe Prestwich.”

  “I have never been introduced to her, nor do I ever intend to acknowledge her in any way. She is niece to that hateful Miss Phillipa Prestwich, which is enough to condemn her in my eyes. If you only knew what that horrid woman did to my dear brother, you would cast aside your inamorata.”

  She was not precisely his beloved, but Demetrius had no intention of revealing to his mother the exact nature of his relationship with the youngest Miss Prestwich. But on the other hand, his curiosity was definitely aroused. “So what did the aunt do that was so terrible?”

  “I do not actually know the details,” his mother replied, “but whatever she did, it was terrible enough that dear Humphrey’s life was ruined.”

  “Ruined? In what way? He has never complained to me, and he appears to be quite happy with his current situation.’’

  “That is all that you know! Why, that beastly woman is the reason he has remained a bachelor to this day.”

  “You do not think it has merely been my uncle’s fondness for self-indulgence that has kept him from stepping into the parson’s mousetrap?”

  “Now you insult my poor mistreated brother! Oh, I knew you would not understand. You have not an ounce of sensibility.”

  And his mother, he decided, had not a particle of sense. “So far you have given me nothing to understand—you have made only the vaguest of accusations.”