A Grand Deception

by Shirley Marks

  "Mr. Stanley knows about broken bones," Susan told Muriel in earnest. "One of his mares broke her leg."

  "You are not a horse." Muriel could not tolerate this comparison and scolded softly, "Do not allow him to speak of you in that manner."

  "But I do like horses excessively," Susan returned.

  "One lovely female is much the same as another, I collect." Mr. Stanley extended her arm in front of her. "Does that cause any pain?"

  "N-no, it doesn't." Susan spoke hesitantly, as if expecting to feel discomfort at any moment.

  "There, there, steel yourself, young lady." Mr. Stanley prodded her arm gently, starting from her wrist and working to her shoulder.

  Susan winced when he touched an area just above her elbow.

  "I do beg your pardon." He drew his hand immediately away. "Now, if you will remain still, I need to ascertain.. Returning to her arm, Mr. Stanley progressed more slowly around the affected area. "Even though there is no discoloration at present, I believe there is a bit of bruising. There may yet be discoloring in the coming days, but I discern no breakage"

  Susan glanced at Muriel upon hearing the encouraging news.

  Mr. Stanley completed his examination and announced, "I am pleased to inform you that your arm is decidedly not broken. You are in far better health than my mare, Persephone" He smiled at Susan and winked. "And exceedingly prettier."

  Susan blushed, sighed, then gazed up at Mr. Stanley and said, "I do believe that is the nicest thing any gentleman has ever said to me."

  It was past one in the afternoon the following day before Muriel descended the staircase. She continued to the breakfast room where Aunt Penny, Mrs. Wilbanks, and Susan sat.

  "You can't have slept all this time, can you?" Mrs. Wilbanks gazed into Muriel's face, as only a mother-not hers, but Susan's-could. "Your beautiful green eyes still look as if you could do with a few more hours' rest."

  "Let me see." Aunt Penny pushed herself up from the table and moved to the entrance to have a look at Muriel.

  "How is your arm this morning, my dear?" Mrs. Wilbanks asked her daughter. "You fell rather hard last night. Might there be a bruise?"

  "If there is, I cannot see it." Susan rubbed the affected area. "It does not bother me a bit, Mama. It certainly is a shame that the only time I really had a good look at the new earl was when he stood alone with Muriel after all the other dancers collapsed around him. I must say, the vantage point from the floor was excellent."

  Aunt Penny slid her hand under Muriel's chin to tilt her head in order to examine her face. "Your eyes are red, and you do look fatigued."

  Muriel blinked. Eye fatigue was a small sacrifice compared to what she'd have to endure the remainder of the day.

  "We are fortunate we have no commitments this evening. You may be excused early, since we remain at home for only a family dinner." Aunt Penny drew a chair out for Muriel. "I shall fetch you something to eat. Do you realize we've been out every night for nearly a fortnight?"

  "La, Aunt Penny, it will be a relief to stay at home to rest," Muriel affected in a cool tone, lowering herself into the proffered chair.

  "There are this afternoon's activities. Lord Peter is to take you for a drive at three, is he not? Mr. Ambrose is most put out that you cannot accompany him."

  "He has accompanied Moo many times-he has no cause to complain," Susan, who sat next to her mother, replied.

  "Shall I resort to strolling around our back terrace with each gentleman as our dear Char-Char did two years ago?" Muriel took this time to glance down at her clasped hands folded in her lap and blink up through her lashes, which is what her dear sister Charlotte would have done.

  "It may come to that, I fear." Aunt Penny set a plate of toast and eggs before Muriel.

  "I cannot claim to have nearly the number of suitors CharChar did." She leaned against the back of the chair. "And what problems that caused!"

  "Mr. Ambrose has no claim on you; he must wait for another day," Aunt Penny decreed. "I think it would not take much to bring him up to scratch. Although Lord Peter may be on the verge of making an offer."

  This was not what Muriel wanted to hear. She had no intention of listening to a proposal from Lord Peter or Mr. Ambrose. Her recent decision to move her attention from both gentlemen was proving to be a sound one.

  Muriel would insist this afternoon's outing be her last with Lord Peter.

  Sherwin had a quick bite to eat before being rushed back to his bedchamber to dress for that morning's round of calls. His mother expected he would take Miss or Lady Whoever for a pleasant drive. He wasn't feeling very pleasant, and he didn't expect he'd be fit company for anyone.

  "I wasn't the only one who noticed you were one of the few who did not fall during the quadrille catastrophe. Did you have anything to do with that tragedy last night?" Lady Amhurst hadn't been pleased with the mishap on the dance floor and had groused about it all the way home. She was complaining still. "Pray, tell me no."

  "I do not believe so, Mother" Sherwin couldn't imagine how he could have been involved. Although it did seem as if all the guests around him had participated in a human version of tenpins.

  "That's a relief. I had heard from Lady Shrope that there was an inexperienced oaf on the dance floor, though she did not tell me of which sex. I am gratified she had not referred to you." Lady Amhurst began to circle him, taking in his appearance. "I believe Lord and Lady Torrington's daughter is someone we should consider noteworthy. We shall call on them first this morning."

  "Of course, Mother," was Sherwin's immediate response.

  "And since you have cooperated so well, I shall see you are amply rewarded." Lady Amhurst seemed almost giddy. "Tomorrow morning, very early tomorrow morning, before you could possibly be seen by anyone, you may have use of the barouche to visit a pile of ruins of your choice."

  "Truly?" His head came up, and he straightened in elation, causing Lewis to tug on the nearly complete cravat.

  "Oh, sir-I beg your pardon!" the valet cried. "We must begin again."

  Sherwin didn't care. "Thank you, Mother." He felt particularly jolly, which made it possible to endure the torture of one hundred cravats!

  Muriel settled herself on the bench of the modest green curricle while the liveried groom held the horses in place, and she watched Lord Peter climb in and take the seat next to her.

  "Hatchards, you say?" Muriel blinked up at him, surprised that he should know she'd like to visit the bookstore above all things. And to think she was near to ending her association with him. Well, even though Lord Peter was providing her with this excellent opportunity, she could not allow a mere visit to a bookstore to sway her mind.

  This really was too kind of him, but she had already decided not to see him again.

  "I thought you might like to stop there after our drive. Your father told me you were most anxious to see the establishment." After a reassuring tug to his gloves, Lord Peter took up his whip and the ribbons, then with a nod ordered the groom to release hold of the horses.

  "You spoke to my father?" The news worried Muriel. "W-why w-would you do such a thing?" She knew exactly why a young man spoke to a young lady's father. And the prospect was too horrible to contemplate.

  Was it too late? Would he propose soon? Surely not in Hatchards bookstore!

  "Rest assured, he advised I proceed with caution." Lord Peter smiled, looking to be a bit nervous himself. "His Grace reassured me my position with you remains unchanged."

  She pasted on the best smile she could manage and nodded. That was true enough.

  The horses sprang forward, and the green curricle moved off. Muriel would need to endure another expedition through Hyde Park before her dream of stopping at 173 Piccadilly, Hatchards Bookstore, came true.

  Lord Peter escorted Muriel inside the establishment, and she gazed around, lifting her chin to stare up into every corner of the small room. They moved farther, passing into a second room. Never had she been in the presence of so many books. Bookca
ses lined the walls and surrounded her as far as she could see.

  Books, so many lovely books.

  Not even Faraday Hall possessed so many volumes. She dared not express her true feeling, lest she make a spectacle of herself.

  "I hear there are six floors." Her suggestion that they should move up the spiral staircase to see them all was put as politely as she could manage. "We have come all this way, after all."

  "You are right, of course." Lord Peter placed a protective gloved hand over Muriel's, resting in the crook of his elbow, and guided her past the large counter.

  Never had Muriel wished for a different hat, one with a larger brim so she could more easily hide her browsing. She tried her best to read the titles as she walked past, showing as little interest as she could.

  "Will you excuse me, please? I wish to inquire about a slim volume of poetry." Lord Peter pointed at a shelf off to his right. "I think you might fancy it. "

  Poetry? Muriel thought not but answered with a smile, "By all means, do see if you can find it." She pulled her hand from his arm and urged him to move away. "Take as long as you like. I'll just do a bit of perusing myself."

  She turned to the bookcase to her left the moment Lord Peter stepped away, and the rich gold decorative scrolling and lettering on the spine captured her attention. Cursus Publicus: Roads of the Roman Empire.

  Muriel pulled the heavy book from the shelf and pried it open to look inside. Color illustrations covered the large pages, illuminating major ports, roads, and settlements. She ached to spend hours studying each page and admiring the many images. Closing the book, she wrapped her arms around its covers, holding it tightly against her.

  Muriel wished to purchase the book, but if her aunt or father learned of it, they would know she had not given up her bluestocking ways. She could not take the risk of discovery.

  Glancing at the tome in her arms, then to Lord Peter, who held the small book of poetry in his hands, Muriel thought better of her actions and slid the volume back into place on the shelf.

  Her final decision was that purchasing the book would be best left for another day.

  That evening was, indeed, quiet. After the weeks of nonstop parties and early-morning studies, it had felt good to stay at home for a change. It had been just Muriel, her father, her aunt, and Sir Samuel for dinner. Then Aunt Penny had to ruin the evening by presenting an invitation.

  "The Duchess of Devonshire does not wish to see a repeat of last Thursday's tragedy at the Shropes' ball. Therefore she is hosting a morning practice dance to be held tomorrow," Aunt Penny paraphrased for their benefit.

  "But, Aunt Penny, we have only just finished dance lessons with Monsieur Dubois. Do you not think..." Muriel had already endured sessions twice a week with a dance master, months before their arrival in Town; it was beyond enough. Not to mention her participation, years earlier, when her sisters needed to prepare for their entrances into Society.

  "You cannot deny that you, too, nearly fell," Aunt Penny reminded her. "How you managed not to join the others on the floor, I don't know."

  Muriel had managed to avoid the massive accident. Her good fortune had been due to her looking at Lord Amhurst instead of joining hands with her partner. "And what of our morning callers?"

  The Duke said nothing but motioned to his sister-in-law, whom he must have thought knew better than he.

  "I imagine most of the young men will be in attendance. It's the quadrille, dear," Aunt Penny continued. "Obviously, there are young ladies and gentlemen who are having difficulty with the intricate steps."

  How was Muriel to plan her escape for her lessons if she were to attend early-morning dancing lessons?

  "I do not think you should decline the invitation," the Duke added.

  "Of course you are right, Papa." Muriel gave them her best smile.

  Because dining that evening had been informal, enfamille, the Duke and Aunt Penny left the table to retreat to the small parlor where all of them would spend the remainder of the evening. Sir Samuel remained behind with Muriel and called out to her.

  "Lady Muriel, a private word with you, please, before we join His Grace and Mrs. Parker."

  "Of course, let us step into the breakfast room." Muriel led the way.

  "Where are Susan and her mother this evening? I expected to see them here." Sir Samuel walked with Muriel very slowly down the corridor.

  "Mrs. Wilbanks and Susan are dining with friends of their family," Muriel told him. "What have you been up to today?"

  "I've been busy. Took Lady Embleton's daughter Flora for a drive through the Park this afternoon." Once they stepped inside the cozy room, Sir Samuel eased into a chair.

  "You are actually courting someone?" Muriel gasped in disbelief.

  "As you are well aware, I still search for my wife. I have for several years now."

  "But to marry outside of my family . . ." Muriel settled into the chair next to him. "Papa had his heart set on calling you son."

  "Unless you own to a fourth sister of whom I am unaware, or you care to engage my affections yourself, I highly doubt His Grace will have his wishes met. I have called upon your cousin Miss Kimball. Perhaps we shall find success in that quarter."

  "Never say so!" The sharp reply came before she could restrain herself. Constance and Sir Samuel would never suit. Muriel cast her gaze down, a little embarrassed at her outburst, and softened her tone. "You do what you think is best"

  Of course Muriel knew that Sir Samuel wanted to marry. It had been many years since he'd declared himself and proposed to her sister Augusta, and he still hadn't found his future duchess. Sir Samuel was waiting for the right one. The lady he would eventually choose would be a very special person indeed.

  "If you think I am difficult to please, I fear it will take no less than a Roman god to gain your notice," he said with a nod of his head.

  Perhaps ...

  Muriel never thought along the lines of matrimony and the type of gentleman she cared for ... but a Roman god ... If he were truly Roman, she might consider his suit.

  Leaning on his arm, Sir Samuel closed their distance to whisper, "I have been considering your request of the other night."

  And? She widened her eyes, keeping silent, waiting for his answer.

  "What you plan is not to be undertaken lightly. If we are discovered, your father will make quite sure that my presence no longer darkens your family's doorway. Or he will surely call me out to gain satisfaction if I had any part in your dishonor. I cannot tell you how dear you and your sisters have become-it is as if you are my own family."

  My, he had given this quite a bit of thought.

  "It could disgrace us and cause a scandal for both our families. And I would deeply regret that above all things."

  Muriel had not taken quite such serious consequences into account when she asked him to aid her.

  "I cannot imagine how I allowed you to talk me into such a scheme."

  Did that mean Sir Samuel would help her?

  "It's not half as perilous as you make out. We shall leave early in the morning and return before I call for my maid after noon." There really was no chance of discovery. Muriel continued breezily. "The staff, as well as Aunt Penny and Papa, understand and accept my fatigue after dancing all night."

  "Yes, you do participate in every dance, but you do not fool me one bit." Sir Samuel placed his hands on the arms of the chair and pushed himself to his feet.

  "But I do manage to fool them." Muriel could not allow Sir Samuel to talk her out of her plan. Furthering her education far outweighed attending silly dancing parties.

  "If I do not aid you, then I am certain you shall find another who will," he said with some resignation. Indeed, Sir Samuel knew Muriel better than she had suspected. He sounded sage as he proceeded with caution. "The only way I will know you are not in harm's reach is if I am the one who makes the arrangements."

  Sir Samuel was going to help her!

  "This is a map to my aunt's town house jus
t around the corner. I've added a few descriptions to help you find the place." He handed her a folded piece of paper with his left hand and dug into a vest pocket with his right. "This is the key to the garden gate. You may let yourself in and wait for me there when it is time."

  "Where's your aunt? Isn't she at home?" Muriel eyed the well-worn key and placed it on the crisp, folded paper.

  "For these last few years she's closed the town house for the summer and visits her sister in Somerset."

  "Very well. I shall put this to good use." Muriel eyed the small metal key, turning it over in her hand.

  "It shall make me feel better knowing you're in a safe place and not standing in the street like a hawker."

  "Sir Samuel, you are wonderful!" She wanted to leap out of her chair and throw her arms around him but could not risk the undue attention it would cause. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am"

  "Lord knows what will happen if we are discovered." Sir Samuel exhaled, clearly concerned over the path on which they were to embark. "If we are forced to marry because I have compromised you ..."

  "Never fear, I shall make you an excellent wife if that comes to pass." She gave him a teasing smile.

  "Allow me to reiterate my intention to wed a young lady of my own choosing." He gazed at her with all that was serious.

  Muriel made a moue. "I should not tease you, should l?"

  "No, you should not." He cleared his throat. "When will you meet with Signore Biondi next?"

  "I'll send word for us to meet tomorrow morning. We shall leave early, when no one is about and more than half the town is still abed." Muriel felt quite confident they would not be discovered.

  "But what of the Lady Devonshire's party? Mrs. Parker will not allow you to refuse."

  "I plan to attend. You'll be astonished how happy I will be to do so" Muriel tended to feel elated after attending her sessions with Signore Biondi. "However, I might caution you that we not be overly friendly at Lady Devonshire's party. Lest we are overheard or give ourselves away."