A Regency Scandal

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  Durrant’s tension eased. Even without the concealing masks, it would have been difficult in this subdued lighting for one guest to identify another with any certainty. And he was unknown.

  He looked about him. Dominoes of all colours, bright as rainbows, encircled him. Masked faces, looking more than usually mysterious in the dim light, came and went, their owners laughing and talking in animated, high-pitched accents. A footman suddenly appeared beside him out of the gloom, proffering a tray on which stood glasses of wine. Durrant accepted one, tossed it off hurriedly and took another. This was not a night for half measures, he told himself. But how in the world was he ever to find Cynthia in such a poor light, amid so many people?

  Groping his way to one of the small tables set in the alcoves of the room, he put down his glass. Just then, the orchestra struck up with the music for a quadrille. Immediately, he was seized on by a lively young lady with a head of yellow curls, who gathered another lady and gentleman from those around her to make a foursome. In a similar scrambling way other sets of four were formed, and everyone took to the floor amid much laughter and chatter.

  “This is famous fun!” gasped his partner, as she threw herself enthusiastically into the dance. “Do you not think so? Oh, what shall I call you?”

  “My name is Bertram, madam,” he replied, formally.

  “Oh, Lud, you mustn’t call me madam! My name is Lydia, but I prefer Lyddy.”

  He raised his eyebrows over this; but his partner’s extremely informal manners were not isolated in that assembly, as he was soon to discover. When the quadrille ended, a Scottish reel was started. He at once found himself unceremoniously pressed into a set by several pairs of urgent female hands. The pace of the evening was fast and furious. Dance succeeded dance, with brief intervals occasionally for refreshment, and though he changed partners many times, he did not succeed in finding the one for whom he had come here.

  After a cotillion and another quadrille, danced with partners who obligingly supplied their forenames and whose behaviour was decidedly fast, he made up his mind to search the room for her. Accordingly, he eluded all those who would have urged him again onto the floor, and began a systematic quartering of the ballroom.

  His task was made difficult by the fact that most of the females were constantly in motion and in that dim light it was almost impossible to identify anyone. Once or twice he thought he had seen her, only to realise on a closer inspection that it was some other female with hair of the same colour or of a similar height. None of the ladies appeared to object when he drew nearer to peer intently into their faces.

  “Fie, sir, are you trying to discover who I am?” laughed one. “You must wait until the time comes for unmasking!”

  After he had traversed the length of the ballroom without succeeding in tracking down his quarry, he began to be assailed by doubts. A masquerade was always a slightly more informal affair than a ball, but surely this one was informal to the point of being positively improper? The ladies were behaving like sad romps and the men taking liberties far beyond the line of generally acceptable behaviour. Cynthia had said that the hostess, Lady Plummet, whom so far he had not had the honour — if such it was — of meeting, was young and a thought wild. Wild indeed, since she was the originator of a party such as this! And from this thought he passed to another. Would Lady Lydney really have given her daughter permission to attend a gathering of this kind?

  He halted suddenly, seized with shock as a most unpleasant realisation came to him.

  He had been duped.

  Cynthia had never intended to be present tonight. She had been playing relentlessly on his hopeless passion, pretending that she would actually permit him to dance with her, and all the time laughing at his credulity. How she must have enjoyed the joke! It was the very kind of thing to appeal to her malicious sense of humour. And the final bitterness was that no doubt she considered it a just punishment for his presumption in daring to lift his eyes to her.

  From chagrin he passed to furious anger. Come what might, someday he would even the score with her, would show her that he was not a man to take meekly such a hoyden’s trick!

  Evading the grasping hands which sought to detain him, he strode purposefully towards the exit. He had almost reached it when the musicians broke into the opening bars of a waltz.

  And then from behind him a soft arm entwined his neck and a low voice spoke in his ear.

  “Going so soon? And before our waltz?”

  He turned abruptly, almost knocking over the lady whose arm had captured him, and whose voice he could not fail to recognise.

  “Miss Lydney! I thought—”

  She placed a finger over his lips.

  “Hush, no names. Did you think I had deserted you? Foolish creature, I’ve been here all the time — but come! Waltz with me.”

  He needed no second invitation, but placed his arm about her waist. She removed hers from his neck and allowed the hand to rest on his shoulder; and away they went, twirling down the room, locked together more closely than was the practice in more polite assemblies, such as Almack’s.

  They did not speak. The anger which had swept over him had changed now to an equally fierce emotion which found its expression in his increasingly tightening embrace. She did not attempt to slacken his hold, but strained towards him in a way which inflamed his desire. For Cynthia Lydney was making the discovery that, although it was pleasant enough to flirt with gentlemen of the ton who knew just how far they ought to go, to yield to this unbridled passion was more enjoyable still. And for a few hours, what could it matter?

  The waltz had almost come to an end when she spoke again in his ear.

  “Let us go out into the garden. It’s a warm night, and there’s a little temple there.”

  As one in a dream, he allowed himself to be led out under the stars. His arm still encircled her waist, and her head rested on his shoulder.

  The garden ran down to the Thames, silvered in the moonlight. The temple was set at the extreme end, its windows looking out on the river. It was very quiet there, for so far no one else had come into the garden; they felt as if they had the whole world to themselves.

  They sat down upon a velvet-cushioned bench against the wall. For a moment, he gazed into her dark eyes without either moving or speaking. Then he whipped off his mask, flinging it down on the seat beside him. He put up a trembling hand to hers, but she forestalled him, removing it herself. She unfastened her lilac domino, letting it fall to the ground to reveal beneath it a gown in a deeper shade, with a décolleté neckline which exposed her white shoulders.

  He caught his breath.

  She looked up at him with one of her bold, provocative glances; but this time there was something of curiosity in the look, as of one who sought knowledge.

  He took her into his arms, kissing her again and again, ruthlessly, demandingly. Far from resisting, she responded eagerly, and did not draw away when his lips moved from her mouth to the white neck and shoulders, so irresistible in the moonlight.

  At last, his impatient hands pulled at the neckline of her gown to lower it, to open to his caresses the sweetness that lay concealed there. And Cynthia gave a low moan, surrendering completely to his importunity and to her own hot blood.

  It was some time later that they stirred, feeling cramped. Cynthia stood up, rearranged her dress, fastened the domino around her and began to resume her mask. He watched her, silent for the moment, then came to with a start and looked at his watch.

  “A quarter to midnight — I suppose I must go,” he said, reluctantly. “But what are we going to do?”

  “Do?” Her tone was casual, her manner calm.

  “About us. About what has happened tonight.”

  “Why, nothing. What should we do?”

  “But suppose you should chance to find yourself—”

  She interrupted him with a laugh.

  “Oh, never worry your head over that! There are ways and means, you know.”

  H
e did know, of course, but it shocked him to think that she did. He was still more shaken as he gradually realised the implications of her remark.

  “Do you mean,” he asked, slowly, “that you did not come unprepared to this Masquerade?”

  “Of course not — that would be stupid, and I hope I am never stupid. I have married friends, you know, who are willing to give me the benefit of their experience and knowledge in such matters. All my friends are not innocent young ladies like Helen Somerby and Melissa Chetwode.”

  Calculating as he was himself, he did not quite relish the thought of this degree of calculation in her.

  “But what of the future? Now that you are mine, I want to keep you, to marry you.”

  Her tone took on a sharper note. “You must see for yourself that cannot possibly be. My father would never consent to such a match. I shall marry Shaldon, as Papa wishes, but you and I can still be lovers.”

  “No!” He rose and gripped her by the elbows so that she winced. “No, I shall never let you do that!”

  She tried to disengage herself. “But why not? Lots of fashionable women take lovers. It is almost de rigueur. Besides, I must marry to have an establishment of my own, and since I cannot marry you, Shaldon will do as well as any.”

  “Shaldon! You fix on him because he is heir to an Earldom and a large estate — or so you think!” he exclaimed, wildly.

  “Of course.” She eyed him sharply. “But what do you mean by that last remark?”

  “Another few weeks, and I may be able to enlighten you,” he said, in a more guarded way. “When Greenwich Fair comes round at Whitsuntide. And then you’ll consign Shaldon to the devil, if things go as I hope they will.”

  “What can you mean? Greenwich Fair? What has that to say to anything, pray? Be plain with me, Bertram. What is this mystery about Shaldon?”

  “I can tell you nothing now. I should not have spoken at all, but I’m maddened by the thought of you as his bride — or as any man’s, except myself! Cynthia, my darling” — he drew her towards him — “can we not brave your father’s displeasure and seek his permission to wed? He thinks the world of you and would grant you anything, and I may not always be in as humble a sphere as now. If things go well with me, I may in time enter Parliament and hold up my head with the best of them.”

  She disengaged herself with an air of finality.

  “You are talking wildly. I can only suppose that all this has gone to your head. But if you don’t wish to be discovered when the unmasking takes place, you’d best go at once. There’s a side door leading from the garden. I’ll show you.”

  He resumed his mask and domino and followed her out of the temple and back towards the house.

  “Can I leave you safely in this place?” he asked, as they turned along a narrow path leading to a side gate which gave access to the mews.

  “Of course. I came with a party of friends. Mama believed I was to spend the entire evening at their house. They will conduct me home.”

  “And when shall I see you alone again?” he asked eagerly, as they reached the gate.

  “I cannot say. We must be discreet, as you will realise. There’ll be few, if any, opportunities such as this. You must leave all to me. On no account must you attempt to come to me in my room, or even betray by one word or look that we are more to each other than we should be. It won’t be easy, but it must be done.”

  “You’ll find it easy enough, I dare swear,” he muttered, bitterly.

  “And so will you. Don’t tell me that you’ve never yet acted a part, for I shouldn’t believe you. And now I must go, for my friends will be looking for me at the unmasking.”

  He gathered her roughly into his arms to kiss her once more, lingeringly, desperately. She yielded for a moment, then thrust him resolutely away and ran back along the path as he stepped through the gate. The masquerade was over.

  CHAPTER XXVII

  The morning after Cynthia’s ball, Helen and Melissa were sitting together in the morning room dealing with some of their correspondence. The season was now in full swing, and every day brought a batch of fresh invitations, some of which they were obliged to decline owing to previous engagements.

  “It’s a pity your Mama did not wish us to attend that Moonlight Masquerade,” remarked Helen, pausing in her task. “Of course, Lady Chetwode knows best, but it did sound so prodigiously romantic, and more fun than the musical party which we’re to attend instead.”

  “Yes, indeed it did, Nell, but when Mama says that anyone is bad ton, as she did of this Lady Plummet, there’s no arguing with her, you know. Besides, I mentioned it to Philip, and he said he wouldn’t like any sister of his to attend such a ramshackle affair, and he wondered how it was that we ever came to be invited, as Mama is not even acquainted with the lady.”

  “Oh, I know the answer to that, for Cynthia Lydney told me yesterday evening that she had put forward our names to Lady Plummet. And come to think of it, Mel, she had that gleam in her eye as she mentioned it. You know very well the look I mean, when she’s planning to play off a jest on somebody! I might have guessed then that there was something smoky about the business. Well, if Cynthia’s sense of humour was tickled at the thought of our going, I’m glad after all that your Mama did prevent it.”

  “Do you suppose Cynthia means to go? I wonder that Lady Lydney should permit it, for she places herself on a very high form.”

  “Oh, Cynthia can always find ways of doing just as she pleases. You notice she managed to persuade Lady Lydney to allow the waltz to be danced at her ball.”

  “Did I not?” replied Melissa, with emphasis. “Mama was horridly shocked, and I could see she would have liked to persuade us not to take part in it, but for seeming to cast a reflection on the good taste of our hostess. I know she was glad that I decided for myself to sit it out.”

  “Perhaps I should have done so, too,” confessed Helen, “because I did notice your mother’s qualms. But I was so eager to try it out for the first time. I don’t count our attempts to learn it at the Seminary, with only other girls as partners. And I must say I did enjoy it, Mel! That twirling motion is so exhilarating, like being bowled along at speed in a curricle, or putting a horse to the gallop! I’m sure you would love it.”

  Melissa said nothing for a moment. She had failed to enjoy Cynthia’s ball, but hesitated to confess the reason for this to Helen. Had James Somerby been present, she would have risked her Mama’s disapprobation for the pleasure of waltzing with him; but the young doctor had not been invited, and there was no one else present with whom she had the smallest wish to dance in such intimate proximity.

  “Philip offered, and Mama wouldn’t have minded that, but I wasn’t in the mood for dancing with my brother. Besides, he only asked me because Mr. Lydney had already secured you as a partner. I fancy Viscount Shaldon was disappointed over that, too.”

  “Disappointed?” Helen repeated, in a careless tone. “Oh, no, I don’t think so. He asks me as a duty, you know, because we’ve been acquainted for so long and he is fond of my parents. He seemed to go on very well with Cynthia, don’t you think? Everyone was saying what a handsome couple they made.”

  “And so did you and Mr. Lydney. You’re to go driving with him this morning aren’t you? Don’t you think, Nell, he’s becoming a trifle particular in his attentions?”

  Helen’s cheeks showed a faint pink. “Cynthia’s already warned me that her brother’s a shameless flirt, so it would be foolish in me to attach the least significance to his behaviour, don’t you agree?”

  Melissa leaned eagerly towards her. “But do you like him, Nell — really like him, I mean? You can tell me, for you know I would never betray a secret of yours for anything!”

  “Of course I know that, and I would tell you if there were anything to tell! But the truth is that at present I believe him to be flirting with me — in the nicest possible way, so that I cannot take exception to it — so I am returning the compliment.” She broke off, laughing. “There! I
s not that shameless?”

  Melissa joined in the laugh. “It’s just like your nonsense,” she said. “But be careful that you don’t find yourself taking it more seriously than you bargained for, and falling in love with him in earnest.”

  “Oh, Mel, you sound for all the world like my dear Mama! Before I came to Town, she warned me that I mustn’t be too ready to give my affections to the first gentleman who paid me attentions, as men of fashion were sadly addicted to flirting. Don’t worry, I’ve quite decided to profit from her advice and not take any of them seriously.”

  “But you can’t decide that. What I mean is, that one doesn’t choose the moment when one falls in love, or even the person, in a way. It just happens, Nell, like — like night and day, or the seasons—”

  “Oh, dear, now you’re becoming poetic!”

  She dissolved into helpless laughter. Melissa, after looking offended for a moment, was obliged to join in, and the conversation was suspended for a time.

  They had just resumed their writing when they were interrupted by a summons to the small drawing room, where they found that Mrs. Horwood and Catherine had arrived to pay a call.

  They had all been chatting together for some moments when Mrs. Horwood turned to Helen with a request for her brother’s direction.

  “I should like to send Mr. Somerby an invitation to Catherine’s ball,” she said. “It would have been done before this, but that scatterbrained daughter of mine kept forgetting to ask you.”

  To describe Catherine as a scatterbrain was scarcely just; but Helen lost sight of this in her delight that James was to receive this attention from the Horwoods, who were barely acquainted with him, after all. Although she had said nothing to Melissa at the time, she had felt it as a slight when he had been passed over by the Lydneys, who had known him and his family since childhood. Melissa’s countenance, too, glowed with satisfaction; and she at once embarked on quite an animated conversation with Catherine on another subject, in an attempt to conceal her feelings. This, however, did not succeed with her friends, who knew her too well to be deceived.