Muriel was the last of the trio to gaze in the indicated direction. Him, she supposed, referred to the Earl of Amhurst, whom Constance could not stop talking about.
"He reminds me of the Prince Regent but not so old and not so fat," Lady Amelia said upon seeing the Earl.
"He reminds me of Lord Byron!" Constance mused aloud after further study. "Except much taller."
Muriel turned and regarded this Adonis, thinking he appeared nothing like the Prince Regent nor Lord Byron. He did appear somewhat familiar to her, but she could not say from where.
"Turn away, girls." Constance bodily moved Muriel by the arm. "I believe the Earl looks in our direction."
"How fortunate we are. The Earl of Ennui is taking notice of us," Muriel murmured, but not so softly that it escaped her cousin's ears. What a bother these two were making over the man.
"How dare you!" Constance straightened and raised her chin, addressing her cousin in defiance and scolding in a whisper, so as not to be overheard, "Lady Muriel Worth, how could you be so dim? The Earl of Amhurst is the catch of the Season. The circumstance of his ascension to his position has caught the sympathy of the ton."
"Sympathy?" Muriel couldn't imagine the self-important high-flyers with whom she'd kept recent company having compassion for anyone.
"You see," Lady Amelia added, "no one knows who he really is"
"If he's only just come into the title, then why is he in the petticoat line and not in mourning?" It was clear to Muriel that the others were far more interested in leg-shackling the Earl and not about his proper social conduct.
"Exactly. There are so many unanswered questions regarding who he is. How is it no one knows? He's such a mystery." It seemed Constance was doing all she could to enhance the tale she'd begun that afternoon.
"Do you not wish to know the answers, Lady Muriel?" Lady Amelia appeared anxious to follow Constance's lead. Both were making complete ninnyhammers of themselves.
"I do." Constance's gaze upon the Earl was intense, indeed.
Muriel almost felt sorry for the poor man.
"I cannot wait to discover where he has been keeping himself and what he hopes to accomplish by coming to Town." Constance might have had a very dull Season, indeed, if there was not someone such as this earl to draw her interest.
"I daresay I believe any of us could attract his attention, but you, Lady Muriel, are the daughter of a duke, and you, Miss Kimball, having a close connection to the Duke's family, must have a better chance to interest him. Lady Muriel"-Lady Amelia turned toward Muriel with her back to the Earl-"I believe his lordship is staring at you."
Muriel turned her head, glancing at Lord Amhurst and quickly averting her eyes when she detected that he had, indeed, been gazing at her. "Is that what he wants? Social connections?"
Earl or no earl, Muriel did not care for his attention. Handsome, rich, or shrouded in secrets, she simply did not care. And she wished he would take notice of some other girl, someone who would be more receptive.
"Oh, come now, Muriel, give him a nice smile. Let him know you are pleased," her cousin encouraged her.
"I will do no such thing. Honestly, Constance." Muriel addressed her cousin a bit more sternly than she ought. Well aware his lordship's attention had not moved from her, she uttered under her breath so softly that neither her cousin nor Lady Amelia could hear, "The only possible way that man could hold my interest would be if he were accomplished in Latin and made the Classics his life's course of study!"
A lull fell over the room before a male's voice rose above the general murmur of guests. "By Gad, is that you, Moo?"
Moo? That Lord Byron look-alike had the audacity to call Muriel Moo while in the midst of Almack's? This was an outrage-her childhood name shouted out in public.
Muriel had thought she could never be humiliated for the simple reason that she did not care about the opinion of others. Apparently she had been wrong. Not only was she horrified, but the attention of every person in the large room was now focused upon her.
A fire flaring in her stomach and her cheeks burning, Muriel wanted to scream in frustration. She was quite simply mortified by the man's lack of decorum. How did he even know her? Could it be that he was known to her and she had not recognized him? Who was he that he knew she was called Moo by her family and closest friends?
The Duke of Faraday summoned one of the Almack's Patronesses with a small gesture. Lady Castlereagh was at his side in a thrice.
"Who is that young man?" The Duke's voice was soft yet commanding, and Lady Castlereagh seemed to wither ever so slightly at his inquiry.
"He is the new Earl of Amhurst, Your Grace," her ladyship said tastefully from behind her splayed fan.
"Ah, yes. I seem to recall hearing that the previous earl passed on. Apparently the new earl cannot sit in the House of Lords." The Duke glanced at Aunt Penny and Muriel. "He has not, as of yet, reached his majority."
That would make him a very young peer, indeed, Muriel mused. It might explain the older woman in black crepe and the all-business manner of the gray-haired gentleman with a black armband attending him. Perhaps they were more advisors than companions.
"I would like to make the acquaintance of this Earl of Amhurst, if you please," His Grace replied.
An introduction was not what Muriel wished. She wished the earl in question to take notice of anyone else in the room. Perhaps she could claim to be disgraced by his remark and suggest to her father that they simply leave?
"Of course, Your Grace." Lady Castlereagh stepped away to speak to Lord Amhurst and his entourage regarding introductions and within several minutes led the group toward the Duke and his family.
"His lordship is more than delighted to make your reacquaintance and that of your family, Your Grace," Lady Castlereagh relayed the message.
Reacquaintance? There must be some mistake. Muriel did not know him. Surely she would have remembered their introduction. The Earl inspected her, from her hair down the length of her embossed white silk gown to the toes of her pale green dancing slippers. She dared not meet his gaze, not with him standing next to her.
"Your Grace, may I present the Earl of Amhurst?" As protocol dictated, the Almack's Patroness presented the newcomers to the Duke first.
During the lengthy introductions, Muriel glanced at Lord Amhurst, deciding upon closer examination that there was, indeed, something very familiar about him. His face was not immediately known to her, but his straight brown hair and the questioning set of his eyes ... There was something there vaguely familiar, and recollection seemed just out of her reach.
Lord Amhurst's returning "How do you do?" was not uttered in a familiar voice. He narrowed his eyes, squinting, as if attempting to put her in focus.
Muriel became quite aware of the other guests around them inching away. It was almost as if she and the Earl were standing in the middle of the dance floor or on a stage completely alone in full observance of the other guests. The feeling of being on display washed over her.
The Earl brought his quizzing glass to his eye. "It is you. What are you doing here?" He continued the conversation that had somehow started with his undignified bellow of Moo from across the room. "Do you not recognize me?"
No, she did not. Even staring at him, at this proximity, Muriel was no closer to knowing his identity.
He tugged at the edge of his waistcoat and instantly lost his grip on the fabric, as if he were unaccustomed to directing his fingers when they were encased in soft, pliable kid leather.
"It is I"-he touched his white-gloved hand to his goldshot scarlet waistcoat-"Sherwin."
She could only stare at him. Muriel felt the blood drain from her face in shock. Her mouth went completely dry, and she had difficulty finding her voice, or any suitable words she might string together in response.
"Sherwin Lloyd .. " Aunt Penny remarked, and she also seemed taken aback by his identity. "Imagine, after all these years, the two of you crossing paths again, right here in Town, in the
middle of Almack's."
`Again? Have they met previously?" The Dowager Countess Amhurst seemed surprised, and her remark might not have been meant in a pleasant way.
Muriel and Sherwin's exchange was kept private by the distance of the people looking on. At least he had the good sense not to raise his voice.
"I thought you were still at Faraday Hall. I never, ever expected to see you here." His original surprise moved to irritation. He spoke in a sharp manner but no louder than a whisper. "I believe that was where your last had originated."
"Considering it must have traveled from Yorkshire, where it was addressed, to London, I'm surprised you've managed to receive it so quickly," Muriel replied, and she allowed a completely false smile to slide across her lips. "If you continue this rant, you shall give the current gossip regarding the mysterious earl a new turn: the mysterious ogre earl!"
"Look, the children are reacquainting themselves," Lady Amhurst commented, now seemingly pleased at the reunion.
Muriel drew in a breath to calm herself and noted that the upturn of Sherwin's mouth was not as convincing as her recently well-practiced one. "Your letters mentioned nothing of you coming to Town."
"And what about you?" Sherwin's stare hardened. It was an accusation that she had done the unthinkable, charging her with telling an outright lie.
Muriel answered his quiet accusation with silence. This was not the place where they should be airing the exchange of their private correspondence, no matter what the volume. Not unless they wished the guests, both families, and all of London to learn of it. Before noon tomorrow word would have spread of their illicit communication.
Was this unpleasant, odious young man truly the shy, softspoken Sherwin whom Muriel thought she knew? She could not make any sense of what was happening.
This must be he. But this man was tall and broadshouldered, not the small, slender lad she'd met four years before with whom she'd shared her interest in Latin studies, her hopes to continue to Greek literature, and discussions of her precious books. His once-trembling tenor voice had changed to that of a grown man, deep and solemn, and, at this particular moment, very annoyed.
What had happened to him? What of their years of intellectual exchange, their shared admiration for Latin and the Classics?
His mother rapped her fan on his shoulder. "We are leaving at once" She turned to the solicitor, Mr. Gibbons, and ordered, "Call for the carriage."
Without a pause, Lord Amhurst ended his ephemeral conversation with a concise and overly polite, "Perhaps we shall have the good fortune to meet again."
"I believe that is what you said when we parted last." Muriel could not bring herself to smile at him, not even a civil one for the public's behalf.
"The difference is that the last time I spoke them, I sincerely meant those words." His curt bow was followed by his hasty and immediate exit.
He had never meant to shout out her name, especially not that name, the one he'd picked up upon hearing her sisters' usage some years ago. He had used it out of a habit of convenience over their subsequent years of correspondence.
Sherwin could not blame Muriel for not recognizing him. It had, after all, been a very long time. He had not known who she was until he'd "overheard" one of her companions refer to her. He'd been honing the skills he'd long ago learned from the Duke of Faraday's youngest daughter. In her missives, she'd given him some helpful techniques on mastering the art of deciphering spoken words from a distance, as he had offered her some aid in her Latin studies.
He retrieved his hat, cape, and silver-topped ebony cane. After setting the hat on his head, he swirled the cape around his shoulders. Sherwin stalked to the front door to wait for his coach. He was tempted to look back but did not wish to risk seeing her or chance meeting her gaze.
He had never expected to see her here in Town. Why hadn't Muriel written of her impending visit? Their reunion might have been more pleasant. But then again, why would she divulge such information to him? Their communications had always been based on learning and academics. They never touched upon personal matters.
So when he learned that his elder brother Charles had died in the war more than seven months ago, Sherwin had not told her.
He thumped his cane on the floor, frustrated with the waiting.
When his eldest brother, James, Viscount Marsdon, had caught the fever and passed from this world to the next four months ago, Sherwin did not write of it.
Two thumps of his cane did not cause his carriage to appear any sooner.
His father had lingered a fortnight after James had passed, suffering from the same illness. The Earl of Amhurst had followed his eldest son and heir's death, leaving Sherwin the sole male, the new Earl of Amhurst and Viscount Marsdon. As ever, avoiding any personal topics, Sherwin could not in good conscience relay his life-changing, very sad, and deeply personal news to Muriel, so he had not.
Unable to remain under the same roof as Muriel now, Sherwin passed through the front doors to wait outside.
Never had they disclosed any details of their personal lives. Writing to her of his circumstances would have been out of the question. So how could she know what unfortunate events had befallen him and brought him to Town? Not only had his mother insisted, but the solicitor had supported her position that he set aside mourning and attend the Season to find a bride.
The earldom needed an heir.
To be honest, Sherwin found it embarrassing to think of such things.
But Muriel had never hinted that she was interested in going to Town for the Season. For some unconscionable reason, he found it difficult to believe she would ever consider joining the marriage mart.
It was difficult to think of her seeking a husband.
The last he'd seen of her, she'd been thirteen years old and looked every bit a girl, with her simple schoolroom frock and her hair knotted into a bun at the base of her neck. He recalled glancing at her this very night while she stood with her friends. She was tall and slender now, with her brown hair bound on the top of her head. Dark curls framed her face with those wide green eyes, and she had glared at him with complete revulsion.
Yes, he had lied to her. It amounted to as much, in any case, and it made him feel quite ill. On the other hand, had she not done the same?
Back in the assembly rooms, Muriel was determined not to add to the speculation that was sure to follow the brief, awkward, cryptic conversation she and Sherwin-Lord Amhurst-had had before the guests.
She thought him a horrible, odious man.
The dancing continued, even after Muriel's unladylike display. Many guests were occupied playing cards. The Duke made his excuses and joined his acquaintances in another room, leaving Aunt Penny to chaperone Muriel.
Constance turned to her cousin only moments after the Duke had excused himself. "Whatever was that about?"
Even though her cousin might have been the only one besides the Duke or Aunt Penny in the position to ask that question, Muriel had no wish to answer. She did not wish to explain how matters stood between her and Sherwin Lloyd, now Earl of Amhurst.
Lord Peter, all thoughtfulness and caring, approached Muriel only moments later. "Are you quite all right? He didn't say anything out of line, did he? Need I call him out?"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Lord Peter." Muriel did all she could to dissuade him. The very notion that he should challenge the Earl of Amhurst to a duel was absurd, not to mention illegal. "Besides, it's not your place to suggest it."
"How could you say such a thing? You know how much I care for you. . . ." His address was most sincere, and he took up her hand in both of his, staring at her in a most serious fashion, indeed.
She did not care for his behavior. This action convinced Muriel it was time to turn her attention to someone else; Lord Peter was making a nuisance of himself. To continue her ruse, however, Muriel slid into her more genteel persona. She cast her gaze downward and affected a small, coquettish smile. "Oh, Lord Peter, you most certainly put me to the b
lush when you say such things."
"You aren't tempted by the Earl, are you?" A glint of fear shone in his eyes. "He hasn't turned your head or-"
Turn her head? Really! Nothing was further from the truth. Muriel wished Lord Peter would stop all talk of the Earl of Amhurst. "Did you not promise me this next dance?" she asked.
It was apparent that he began to see through his cloud of jealousy, and he must have realized that Muriel cared no more for the new earl than she did for yesterday's bread.
They took their places on the dance floor with the other couples and smiled at each other. Our of the corner of her eye, Muriel found herself keeping watch at the door where the Earl had exited, waiting for, and dreading, his return.
"Please do not question me about him." After the dance set with Lord Peter, Muriel once again stood with her family members.
"Why did you not tell us you knew the Earl of Amhurst?" Constance appeared determined to discover why she had not divulged such a thing to her own cousin.
Muriel would not answer and tried to ignore her cousin.
"I will not be put off, Moo," Constance insisted. "You know I will have you answer me sooner or later."
"Oh, very well, come with me." Muriel took a few steps away from Aunt Penny, so as not to be overheard, and she explained, "I did not know he was the earl. When I met him, he was a younger son who had no hope of ever coming into his family's title."
How could the shy Sherwin Lloyd, whose passion for education and learning matched her own, have changed into the overbearing autocrat she'd seen tonight?
"But what happened? How is it that he is an earl? Are you not curious?" Constance gripped her fan in what must have been frustration, for Muriel could not and would not answer satisfactorily.
"I do not know, Constance, and I do not intend to find out." Muriel did not even wish to think of Sherwin, and she was fairly certain she could successfully forget him if only Lord Peter and Constance would stop bringing up his name. "I have no interest in him whatsoever, and it would suit me well enough if I never had to look upon him and his squinty eyes ever again!"
A Grand Deception Page 2
