He moved his mouth, forming words that she deciphered: Do you think we should share a dance this evening?
"I hadn't meant to, but I've heard-" Freddie turned to see what had captured Muriel's attention.
Muriel's answer to Sherwin was just as silent. After what the Duchess put us through this morning, I think it would be a good idea. I would hate to disappoint everyone. She snickered, unable to believe she actually looked forward to dancing. It was so unlike her.
Freddie acknowledged Sherwin with a slow nod. "Good Gad, don't tell me Amhurst participates in that speechreading nonsense as well."
"It's far more private than sending a footman around with a billet doux." Muriel felt quite certain her brother resented the ability because it was one he could not master.
"From what I hear, you'd know all about that." Freddie was behaving very peculiarly. It was as if he was privy to some secret.
She sincerely hoped it was not hers.
"I've just come from-" He began very anxiously but came to an abrupt halt.
What was that smell? Muriel sniffed, trying to discern the scent. Cigar smoke? Spirits?
"Never mind where I've been." Freddie seemed to choose his words carefully to avoid any accusations. "The point is that I heard from-" He stopped again. "It doesn't matter who told me-"
"Oh, do get on with it," she urged him, growing more impatient as time went on. "Lord Caldwell will arrive to claim his dance soon."
"He may not wish to keep your company once he learns that you are meeting a man without the benefit of a chaperone." Freddie sounded cross and yet, at the same time, unexpectedly protective. "I take it he is no gentleman if you must steal off to see him."
It shocked Muriel that he knew. How did he ... How?
"Suffice it to say, I do know of your sordid activity, and if it were to come to Father's attention ... I cannot even imagine what he should do to either of you."
"I have no idea what you have heard or from whom. I will say that you, and your source, could not be more incorrect." She would deny the accusation to her father as well. Muriel had done nothing of which she should be ashamed. It was all a lie. "There is no `sordid' anything."
"Mind your tongue, Moo."
"I suggest you take stock of your own behavior before you go pointing fingers at others, Freddie." She glared at him from toe to head, leaning closer to him to whisper, "Appearing at Devonshire House, disheveled, smelling of cheroot smoke and drink, and, to top it off, uninvited, would cause more of a scandal than I ever could produce." Then, spotting Lord Caldwell off to the right, she walked away to greet him.
Sherwin quite considered he had done his duty by standing up with Miss Holbrook and Miss Torrington. He sought out Muriel for their waltz.
"Good evening, Lady Muriel." He bowed and reached for her proffered gloved hand. "I cannot tell you how much I have looked forward to this moment."
"Doing it too brown, are we not, Lord Amhurst?" Muriel reprimanded him. "We should keep our behavior cordial if we wish to appear believable."
"What makes you think I am not sincere?" He felt an unexpected shiver at the touch of her hand. Suddenly, for the first time in any female's company, he felt as awkward and nervous as he had at thirteen.
The expression of disbelief she bestowed upon him was one he had not seen in a very long time. At that moment he recognized a bit of the Muriel he'd remembered: a perceptive, keen, and clever girl.
"Where's your brother?" Sherwin would have known Freddie even at this distance. He'd be the only gentleman in attendance who sported top boots and a frock coat at a ball. "I did not know he was to attend tonight."
They had spent the majority of the afternoon together visiting boot makers, haberdashers, and several tailors. Freddie had lent counsel on Sherwin's purchases for his wardrobe. Sherwin had found the whole experience eye-opening.
Who knew there was a skill to dressing like an earl?
"He dropped by with the express purpose of aggravating me," Muriel replied. "I believe a brother's sole goal in life is to vex his sisters. This one's is, in any case."
"That cannot be true. I shan't believe it. Freddie is the very best of fellows." Sherwin led Muriel to the dance floor and stood in almost the exact place they had that morning. "Do you think it odd that we are dancing the waltz?" This was, after all, their first public, and the most intimate, dance. Somehow, to him, it seemed as if it should be considered scandalous behavior.
"We spent nearly an hour practicing this morning." Muriel placed her left hand on his shoulder and extended her right hand, waiting for him to take hold. "It would be disappointing if we did not participate, much less lead the dance"
"I suppose." Sherwin placed his left hand over her right, taking her fingers into his. As he waited, he became aware of the position of his right hand upon her shoulder, dangerously close to the nape of her neck. He would have felt the soft, curling tendrils of her auburn hair brushing the back of his hand if he wasn't wearing gloves.
"Sherwin!" Muriel whispered with some urgency. She wiggled the fingers of both hands, attempting to gain his attention. "The music begins!"
"I beg your pardon." He moved forward in the steps of the marche.
What was wrong with him? The very idea that he would have had such a thought about her shocked him. He never had a notion regarding femininity about any young lady. So why, he wondered, had this happened with Lady Muriel?
The Earl of Brent's arrival the next morning at Lloyd Place came as something of a surprise to Sherwin. He had told Sherwin they needed to return to the tailor for a final fitting, especially if any of the waistcoats were to be completed by the morrow. Sherwin wasn't quite sure how Freddie had accomplished the deed, but he had convinced Mr. Weston to complete no less than three for the next day.
After being introduced, Freddie strode to the coffee urn on the sideboard in the breakfast room.
"Morning, Amhurst. Mind if I help myself?" He filled a cup and pulled up the chair next to Sherwin. "You look more like yourself when you're wearing those."
Sherwin adjusted his spectacles and closed the book he'd been reading.
"We're off to Weston's after you've finished, right?" Freddie snagged a piece of toast from the rack sitting in the center of the table and bit the corner.
"Ah ... I haven't informed my m-" The struggle, Sherwin anticipated, would be in convincing Lady Amhurst to allow him to accompany Freddie and not her for morning calls.
"Look here, of man," Freddie lectured around the bite of toast. "You are the Earl. She's, at best, the Dowager Countess. I don't know what's going to happen once you marry, but if you don't want your new Countess to rule the roost, you'd best start crowing yourself now."
Sherwin lowered the forkful of breakfast from his mouth. The poultry metaphors caused him to feel a bit guilty about consuming his buttered eggs. "I'm not sure I entirely understand your meaning, Brent."
Lady Amhurst appeared at the doorway. Freddie scrambled to his feet with military precision. Sherwin followed seconds later. He'd never risen when his own mother entered the room before.
"Good morning, your lordship." She sank into a shallow curtsy. "Welcome to Lloyd Place."
"Lady Amhurst, I am delighted," Freddie replied. "Will you join us?"
"No, thank you. I am curious, though. Might I inquire as to the reason for your call?"
"Amhurst and I are running a few errands this morning. Not a problem, I trust." Freddie stared at her in a calm fashion with raised eyebrows. Had he been expecting some objection? An argument? A resounding refusal?
"We had planned to pay some calls, but I expect we can dispense with that formality today." Lady Amhurst's voice became a steely monotone.
Sherwin could tell his mother wasn't happy about the alteration in the day's plans. Especially since she wasn't the one making the changes. What would she do if he took such a position with her? On occasion she would lose her temper. If he opposed her, would she lash out at him with more than angry words? Da
re she strike him? Worse?
"Thank you for your kind indulgence. I bid you good day, then" Freddie-no, the Earl of Brent-had excused Lady Amhurst!
Sherwin had never seen his mother submit to anyone other than his father, who had been ... the previous earl. Yet he saw anger and resentment underneath her quiet facade. How her displeasure would exhibit itself, he could not imagine.
Freddie waited until she left to return to his seat. "You've got to understand, Sherwin, that you hold the rank of an earl. There is an entitlement and respect due to both parties, you for her, and she for your new position. Lady Amhurst might find it difficult to adapt, but she must realize that you are no longer merely her son."
It was something he must have known, but Sherwin had never really thought on it much.
"If you don't stand up to your mother now, you can't very well expect your new wife to do so, can you? Unless you married someone like Muriel. She'd see fit to put your house in order, all right." He chuckled and sipped his coffee.
Sherwin finally managed to eat his buttered eggs from his fork.
Freddie then fell silent and said thoughtfully, "The two of you have always rubbed along well. Why don't you marry her?"
"Marry Moo?" Sherwin nearly choked. His eyes watered and went wide. "Are you mad?"
"It was just a suggestion." Freddie shrugged. "I expect you could do a lot worse."
Sherwin stared back, when it occurred to him that Freddie was not mad in the least.
He was brilliant. A blooming genius!
That afternoon Sherwin drove through Hyde Park with Miss Shrope. Whether the day was exceptionally fine or not, he had no idea, for Freddie's notion that he should marry Muriel had not been forgotten. The idea was one Sherwin could not easily rid himself of, and, as the hours passed, he spent more and more time considering its merits. Sadly, he had to admit he was not very attentive to his companion.
"Do you search for Lady Muriel? Is it she you favor?" Miss Shrope sounded somewhat distant, as though she knew rather than simply suspected.
Sherwin looked at her but said nothing. Apparently his expression told her whatever she needed to know.
"That really is most unfortunate. Oh, no!" Her small gloved hand covered her lips moments after her faux pas. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I had not meant to say that."
"Why do you say `unfortunate'?" Sherwin dreaded what might come next.
"It is only that- Oh, I dislike gossip." She made a most disagreeable expression, which reinforced his concern that what Miss Shrope knew, what she was about to tell him, might be alarmingly unpleasant. "You know they call you the catch of the Season, do you not? Any young lady would be flattered if you were to show her interest."
Yes, he understood that every matchmaking mama wanted to snare him for her daughter, and every eligible miss seemed to cast lures in his direction. He might have been easily snared if his own mother, aided by the ever-observant Mr. Gibbons, hadn't been watching with such keen interest, making sure Sherwin sidestepped the traps.
"If only you would turn your attention to someone else, someone more worthy." It sounded more like a plea than a suggestion.
"Why? What is it you're not telling me?" Sherwin truly did not wish to hear further gossip concerning Muriel. On the other hand, he must learn what it was people were saying about her.
She glanced away from him. "I do not wish to upset you, my lord."
"Please, I wish you to tell me." He all but begged her.
"What they are saying may not be true." She still resisted and would not look directly at him.
"I still wish to know, if you please." Sherwin did not know any more he could say to convince her. He waited patiently, hoping she would accede.
"Very well. If you insist. I-" Miss Shrope drew in a slow, deep breath before she began. "Last night I heard that Lady Muriel meets with someone."
"'Someone'?" Sherwin whispered to himself, finding it difficult to believe such a thing.
"Without her aunt or her father's knowledge." Miss Shrope began to cry. Relaying the rumor, knowing it injured Sherwin to hear the words, obviously pained her as well. "No one knows who he is or where they meet."
"How do you know this to be true, then?" Sherwin uttered the words, but he did not recognize his own strained voice.
"I do not-not for certain, that is. That is why I detest gossip. It could be completely untrue. See how it wounds you." Miss Shrope blinked up through her tear-moistened lashes. "If only you would favor a more suitable young lady, there are many who would look upon you with..."
The image of the young man following Muriel into the Roman ruins from days ago came to mind. Apparently Sherwin had not been the only one who'd seen them, and the thought of her keeping company with an undesirable fellow ...
"Never fear, Miss Shrope." Sherwin patted her hand, trying to lend her some comfort. "I cannot will my affection from one to another, but I shall not give my favor to anyone unworthy. Rest assured, I shall obtain a satisfactory resolution."
With satchel in hand, Muriel strode into the marbled foyer of Worth House and informed Susan of her change of plans. It seemed as of late that Muriel had difficulty rising early to study. She had trouble rising because she had difficulty falling asleep at night. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Sherwin. The new Earl of Amhurst had become a constant and unexpected distraction to her.
She hadn't increased the number of lessons as she had hoped. Muriel did what she could and managed to make some last-minute arrangements.
"I am to meet with Signore Biondi this afternoon."
"You don't mean now?" Susan cried, sounding heartbro ken. She held the newly crafted bonnet she'd been working on for a good portion of the week. "But Sir Samuel is to take us for a drive."
"Sir Samuel will still take us for a drive, goose." Muriel continued in a whisper. "Only there will be an additional stop."
"Does he know?"
"We'll tell him as soon as he arrives." Muriel retrieved her favorite poke bonnet, smoothed her hair, and placed it upon her head. Their outing would not be altered. The coach would simply make an unscheduled stop, dropping Muriel off, and continue on with Susan and Sir Samuel. No harm would be done, and no one would be the wiser.
"If you wear that, you will be instantly recognized." Susan held out her new Capucine-colored silk, wide-brimmed hat with a delicately arching ivory-colored ostrich plume. "You should wear mine. No one has seen it yet."
Susan pulled Muriel's bonnet from her hands and exchanged it with her own. Before the echoes of the knock at the front door faded, Susan, who had just slipped on her Spencer, was there to greet Sir Samuel.
"Are you ladies ready?" The Baronet stepped inside and waited patiently.
"Certainly." Susan had finished tying the ribands under her chin and accepted Sir Samuel's proffered arm. Walking out the front door, she glanced over her shoulder at her friend.
"You go ahead," Muriel urged them. "I'll be ready by the time you return, Sir Samuel."
"Don't be all day about it," he replied, and he escorted Susan to his waiting carriage.
Muriel found Susan's hat difficult to don. She thought the weight of the bonnet unwieldy and would vow she could feel the feather soaring above her head. And how, Muriel wondered, would no one notice her when she wore this?
Sherwin returned Miss Shrope much sooner than either had expected. They did not see much point in continuing their outing or their conversation. She'd fallen into a melancholy he could not alleviate.
He started back on the journey home. While staring off to one side, he saw, from a great distance, a gentleman escorting a lady to his carriage. From the movement, the way she swung her arms by her sides, and the gait, the lady, he was certain, was Muriel.
"Stop! No-turn around! There!" he called out to the coachman, pointing to the opposite side of the square.
"You're wantin' to stop off at 'anover Square, sir?" The jangling of the horses' harness grew to an almost unbearable din when the coachman rein
ed them in.
"Yes, around the outside of the circular path," Sherwin instructed. "Pull up on the far end, and keep quiet."
At this distance Sherwin could clearly see it was Muriel in an astonishingly fancy bonnet. With his bonnet knowledge, bestowed upon him by Miss Holbrook, he knew that the effort it took to fashion such a creation would be immense. This man accompanying Muriel must surely be one she cared for greatly, unlike Mr. Ambrose or Lord Peter.
Sherwin also felt this was the very same gentleman he had seen earlier at the Roman wall. Who was he?
Muriel stepped up into the carriage, the man followed, and the door closed. Soon the black carriage moved off. The long feather atop her head poked out the window and seemed to be waving at Sherwin, beckoning him to follow.
So be it.
"Follow them," he ordered the coachman.
"I beg your pardon, my lord, but my orders were-"
Sherwin followed his friend the Earl of Brent's example and leaned forward on the bench seat, exerted the privilege of his rank, and for the first time in his life barked out an order. "I said, follow that carriage."
The barouche shot forward, knocking Sherwin back into the seat. They headed out of Mayfair, down streets and city intersections he would never be able to identify. He had no idea where he was. After a good twenty minutes or so, the carriage they followed slowed, coming to a stop.
"Walk on," Sherwin instructed. "Turn the corner, and come about. Don't lose sight of them."
"Aye, my lord," the coachman answered without a hint of refusal. By the time the barouche came around and rolled to a stop, the black carriage had dropped off its occupants and continued on its way.
With foliage obscuring his view, Sherwin could only catch a glimpse of the long feather on Muriel's hat every now and again. She, and whoever else accompanied her, had descended from the carriage and crossed to a building. All traces of the plume disappeared once she stepped inside.
A Grand Deception Page 9
