A Dandy in Disguise

by Meredith Bond

  “Yes, why don’t you stay and play a rubber with us?” Sin asked. After having given up playing cards for many years, he had recently begun to play again, but now with much more control than in his salad days. He’d had the unfortunate experience of accidentally bankrupting a family when he’d won their estate in a game of cards. Of course, it had all worked out for the best—he was now very happily married to the granddaughter of the fellow from whom he won the property.

  “Not sure I have the time. Should really get over to Lady Roseberry’s. Hadn’t meant to stay this long as it is,” Fungy said. He then took himself off before anyone could say anything.

  Whew! That was close. He would have to watch himself more closely. He couldn’t risk anyone—not even his closest friends—finding out what he was doing. He’d promised Lord Halsbury that he would disclose his occupation to no one.

  Of course, now he would have no information to disclose to Lord Halsbury either.

  Fungy hailed a hackney and directed the driver to the Roseberry’s.

  Well, at least he had eliminated one person with the initials P.H. Were there any others that he knew of? Fungy ran through a mental list of all the people he knew, searching for someone with those particular initials.

  The only one he could come up with was Lord Pemberton–Howe, Miss Grace’s father. But that was impossible. He wasn’t the gambling sort, though Fungy supposed he was intelligent enough to organize such a thing.

  Fungy wondered what his finances were like. He had to have spent a great deal of money on his expeditions. Could it be that he was desperate for cash—so desperate that he would hire people to cheat at cards for him?

  No. Fungy just could not see Lord Pemberton–Howe in that role. Besides, Miss Grace and her sisters were all very well dressed. If he were in financial straits, it was unlikely that he would spend the money necessary to dress his daughters so well.

  That meant that there had to be somebody else.

  ~~~~

  Rose had just sat down with her sisters in the drawing room for the belated lesson on proper behavior when a maid rushed into the room, immediately followed by Fungy.

  The maid, unaware that Fungy was just behind her, curtseyed. “Miss, there’s a gentleman here who says that it’s urgent…”

  “Thank you, I think I’ll just tell her myself,” Fungy interrupted the maid with a smile that would have charmed even the highest stickler in society.

  The maid started, then ran from the room, giggling.

  Rose stood up. “Fungy, what a lovely surprise.”

  “Thank you. I do hope I’m not interrupting something, but I fear that I must whisk you away from your sisters for a short time. There is some incredibly important news that has just come and the archaeological society is holding an emergency meeting right now.”

  Chills of excitement sped through Rose. She’d never heard Fungy speak with such thrill in his voice. His usual façade of ennui had completely disappeared. This must be serious, indeed! “What is it? Does my father know?”

  “He is waiting for us downstairs,” Fungy said with a nod.

  Rose hesitated, turning towards her sisters. “It’s fine, Rose, you go on,” Laia said.

  “Absolutely! You must go. Clearly, this is much more important,” Thalia agreed, standing up, and even beginning to physically push Rose toward the door.

  Rose was not fooled. Not for an instant. She stopped and turned on both girls, putting her hands on her waist. “If you think I will let this…” she waved her hand in the air, “whatever it is, distract me from giving you two this lesson, you can think again.”

  “You certainly must give your sisters whatever lesson you were planning, but surely it’s something that can wait?” Fungy asked, giving the two girls a broad, conspiratorial smile.

  “Yes, it is,” Laia agreed. Thalia nodded her head vigorously, sending her braids flying.

  Rose didn’t like leaving her sisters again, but clearly whatever was going on at the archaeological society was something of great importance. She just couldn’t be left out—especially not after her visit to the British Museum the previous day had reminded her so strongly of her love of archaeology and all that she’d missed since they’d come to London. But she had a responsibility to her sisters, a little voice inside of her argued. Archeology wasn’t going to get her married or the bills paid.

  “I’m sorry, Fungy…” she started to say.

  He stopped her, taking her hand in his own. “Miss Grace, your devotion to your sisters is admirable and I’m certain that they appreciate all that you do for them, but I think you can afford to take a little time for yourself. Just an hour, perhaps two. That’s all that I’m asking.” His blue eyes looked into her own, pleading with her. His smile enticing her to throw her responsibilities out the window.

  Even her sisters were looking at her with hopeful eyes. How could she say no when they were all ganging up on her like this?

  Rose sighed. “Very well. But this does not mean that I’m going to forget about this lesson.” She wagged her finger at her sisters.

  “We’ll even remind you of it,” Laia said, taking up pushing her toward the door where Thalia had left off.

  As they walked down the stairs to join her father, Rose finally asked, “So what is the excitement that has caused this emergency meeting?”

  “A letter has just arrived from Lady Hester Stanhope. She’s made some startling new discoveries in the Holy Land. Being a lady archaeologist yourself, I was certain you’d be eager to hear of her travails.”

  Rose’s heart sped up at the thought—a woman archaeologist, out on her own, doing research and conducting her own digs. She reached out and put her hand on Fungy’s shoulder. He stopped mid–way down the stairs and turned to look up at her. “Thank you.” The words and the sentiment came from deep within her, even she was a little startled at their intensity.

  Fungy took her hand from his shoulder and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “It is entirely my pleasure, I assure you.”

  Her father cleared his throat from just below them. “Shall we get a move on, then? I don’t want to be left standing in the back of the room.”

  Rose could feel the heat of her blush from her head straight down to her toes, but she and Fungy turned and hurried the rest of the way down the stairs.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE talk was everything Rose could have hoped for. It was fascinating from both a general intellectual standpoint and an archaeological one. Rose loved hearing all that Lady Stanhope had endured on her journey to the Holy Land, even though it made her pine for her days out in the field.

  It was odd that Lord Kirtland hadn’t been there, however. When Rose, Fungy and her father had first gone in, and when they exited after the talk, she’d looked about for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t say a word to either of her escorts, however, not believing that it would be polite to do so.

  “Would you care to join me for a cup of coffee?” Fungy asked Rose and her father as they stood waiting for her father’s carriage.

  “I would love to,” Rose answered.

  “Not for me, thank you,” Lord Pemberton–Howe said at nearly the same time. “I’ve got work to do. This has been very exciting, but I don’t think I should take even more time away from my own work. But you two go on and have a good time.” He stepped out into the street and waved down a hackney before Rose could object, and was gone.

  Fungy took her to a nearby shop where they spent a happy hour discussing Lady Stanhope’s letter and her findings in detail before—.

  “Fungy!” A finely dressed gentleman with blond hair that slipped into his eyes stopped by their table.

  “Oh, hello, Merry,” Fungy drawled, suddenly reverting back to his usual slow speech. It was such an abrupt change, Rose had to stifle the urge not to laugh at his affectation.

  He turned to Rose. “Miss Grace, may I present my cousin, the Marquis of Merrick. Merry, Miss Rose Grace.”

  Rose s
hook hands with the gentleman. “It’s a pleasure.”

  The man was looking at Fungy curiously, so he explained, “Miss Grace and I have just attended an emergency meeting of the archaeological society. A letter arrived from Lady Stanhope in the Holy Land.”

  “Really?” The man’s eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider or his eyebrows any higher up on his forehead.

  Fungy seemed to enjoy the fact that he’d shocked his cousin, for he laughed a little and patted his shoulder, but didn’t say anything.

  Rose and Fungy had been so engrossed in their conversation that she only noticed now did that most of the little tables scattered around the shop were empty. “I should probably return home,” she told Fungy, who stood up immediately.

  “Of course. I did promise to return you to your sisters, didn’t I?”

  Rose laughed. “Yes, although I’m certain they they’d be very happy for me to stay gone. I was about to embark on a lesson in deportment.”

  “Younger sisters, I presume?” Lord Merrick asked.

  Rose laughed. “Yes. And I have to say, sir, your cousin has been an excellent influence on them. They were actually willing to sit through my lesson thanks to him, whereas only a month ago, my mention of the subject would have sent them running.”

  “Really?” The gentleman seemed as shocked by this as he had been at the fact that Fungy had been attending a lecture. He looked at Fungy, assessment in his eyes.

  Fungy just shrugged. “I would hate to disappoint your sisters, in that case. Shall we?”

  “Thank you. It was very nice meeting you, my lord,” Rose said to Fungy’s cousin.

  “It has been enlightening, Miss Grace,” his lordship said with an small bow.

  ~~~~

  Lord Kirtland held out his arm for Rose to take after the orchestra had played the final notes of the country dance. Rose was certain that there would soon be talk, for that was the third time she and Lord Kirtland had danced together that evening.

  She tried to hide the silly smile that had plagued her all through the dance.

  Lord Kirtland was certain to ask her to marry him. There was absolutely no doubt about that, not now. Not after asking her to dance three times.

  She had been happy when he’d asked her to dance a second time, since that meant that he truly was interested in her. But a third time? Well, there could be no clearer indication of his intentions.

  “I do hope you will excuse me, Miss Grace,” Lord Kirtland said, breaking into her thoughts as he returned her to her aunt.

  Rose nodded, flashing him a bright smile, and then watched him make his way directly for the card room.

  She sighed happily. Despite her sisters’ protestations that Fungy was the man for her, Rose still believed firmly that she could not have found a more perfect gentleman to marry than Lord Kirtland.

  She wondered how he was going to propose. Would he visit her and then get down on one knee in front of her? Would he take her for a moonlit walk through a lovely rose garden? Or perhaps he would take her for another romantic tour of the British Museum? Only, this time it would be her sitting on a bench, oblivious to her surroundings, as Lord Kirtland whispered words of love in her ear and asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

  “Good evening, Miss Grace,” Rose heard beside her. She shook off her thoughts and looked beside her to find Fungy smiling warmly at her. “You look lovely in that particular shade of pink. Should definitely wear such colors more often.”

  “Oh, Fungy! How do you do?” Rose laughed with embarrassment at having been caught in her fantasies. “I am afraid I was wool-gathering and didn’t see you approach.”

  He was looking quite magnificent in a coat of dark green superfine and cream–colored pantaloons. His neckcloth flowed down into his waistcoat in what Rose thought must be what was called a waterfall. His waistcoat was cream, shot with gold with a lovely green floral pattern. Complete, as ever, to a shade.

  “Seemed to be thinking of something very pleasant, by the smile you had on your face.”

  Rose felt her face heat. “Did I? Oh, how very silly of me!”

  “Almost hate to tear you away from your happy thoughts, but wondered if you might grant me the next dance?”

  “I would be honored, sir,” she said quickly, to cover up her embarrassment.

  But then, to Rose’s dismay, the orchestra began playing the introductory chords for a waltz. Dancing such an intimate dance with Fungy, just after her three dances with Lord Kirtland, somehow seemed... awkward, almost like a betrayal. But she did not have a good excuse to sit it out either, as she’d recently been granted permission to dance the waltz by the lady patronesses of Almack’s. She had no choice but to take Fungy’s hand, and then to allow him to place his other hand on the small of her back.

  Luscious tingles shot through her body at his touch, and her mind immediately shot to the wonderful afternoon she’d spent with him just the day before.

  How was it that she always got these odd sensations when Fungy touched her, and such different feelings when it was Lord Kirtland?

  She looked up into Fungy’s eyes. He looked so happy to be with her! The now–familiar feeling of being comfortable and warm swept over her. What was it about this man that made her feel so safe and cared for when she was with him?

  It was nearly the opposite feeling from that which Lord Kirtland inspired, but it was his lordship who she was going to marry. And he had many other wonderful qualities, she reminded herself.

  Even if he never made her feel like this.

  Fungy’s lips were turned up in a small smile, and his eyes held hers in what felt like a loving embrace. He looked like he could happily stay this way for the rest of his life.

  Oh, but so could she.

  But she must not, her mind screamed to her. She was going to marry Lord Kirtland. She should not be feeling this way.

  Yet, the heat of Fungy’s body was so close to hers—warming her, enveloping her, protecting her. She felt so good, so feminine, and so very happy.

  Rose tried to fight the feelings, tried to turn her eyes away from his, and found it impossible.

  She was lost. Lost in his eyes. Lost in his presence. Lost in him. And slowly, she let her thoughts flutter away as they danced.

  He twirled her around the room, moving gracefully to the music, but Rose hardly noticed. They did not speak a word to each other, but it didn’t matter. No words were necessary. Everything that they felt, everything that they needed to convey to the other, was there in their eyes. They understood each other. They felt the same thing—this utter wonderfulness of just being close to each other, of moving together as one.

  A silence fell heavily all around them, suddenly. Rose was reluctantly roused from her blissful state. Had the music stopped?

  Surely it had happened too quickly. What had happened to the dance? It seemed much too soon for it to be over.

  Fungy took a step back and bowed to her. Purely through instinct, Rose returned it with her own curtsy. Her head felt like it was in a fog. She wasn’t entirely sure where she was, or what she should be doing.

  Luckily, Fungy was there. Without a word, he gently placed his hand on the small of her back sending a lovely heat up her spine. He led her outside onto the balcony. The fresh air and heady fragrance from the garden below awoke Rose abruptly to the reality of her situation.

  She had just shared the most romantic dance she ever had danced, with Fungy!

  She had never thought of him as romantic before. In fact, quite the opposite. He was warm and comfortable. He was her friend.

  And... he was not someone with whom she should be sharing such feelings. It was wrong. She was going to marry Lord Kirtland.

  Fungy leaned against the balustrade next to her, but Rose didn’t look at him. She didn’t need to. She could feel him. He wasn’t nearly as close to her as he had been while they were dancing, but she could still feel his presence, still smell his musky cologne and hear the rustle of his coat.

/>   She had never been so intensely aware of anyone before.

  But what about Lord Kirtland? He had danced with her three times. She had made up her mind to marry him—and if she didn’t after tonight, she would doubtless be labeled a loose–skirt, or worse.

  But she couldn’t ignore Fungy, either. Finally, she forced herself to turn to him, intent on saying something that would indicate that their waltz had been a mistake, or to make some sort of joke about how she had completely lost herself in his arms.

  But the words died on her lips. He was looking at her with such a confused expression on his face that she nearly laughed. It was such a relief to see that he was as puzzled by what had just happened as she was.

  “Rose... Miss Grace...” he began, when Aunt Farmington’s voice intruded abruptly.

  “Rose, you should not be out here alone, my girl!”

  Rose felt her face heat, and spun around to address her aunt.

  “We were, er...” she stammered.

  “Just getting some fresh air, ma’am. After the exertion of the dance, Miss Grace felt the need for a breath of air.” With Lady Farmington, it seemed, Fungy had no problems finding his voice, and he took command of the situation with his usual aplomb.

  “Yes, that’s it. Nothing beyond that, Aunt Farmington, truly,” Rose said gratefully.

  “Ah, then you won’t mind if I join you? It is quite a pleasant evening, isn’t it? A little warm for this time of year, though,” Aunt Farmington said, stepping in between Rose and Fungy.

  They moved farther apart to allow her room, exchanging a quick glance. There was something that had needed to be said, but it would have to wait.

  “Yes, it has been quite unseasonably warm,” Fungy agreed.

  “It makes it quite comfortable to wear these thin dresses that are all the rage, without the need for a shawl,” the older lady said, rubbing one bare arm with her gloved hand.

  “Are you chilled, ma’am? Shall I call someone to fetch your shawl?” Fungy asked.

  Aunt Farmington narrowed her eyes at him, and then turned her intent scrutiny on Rose before answering. “No. No, I thank you. I shall send someone for it, and to find your father, Rose. I believe it is time we went home. You will join me in the foyer within five minutes.”