He bowed. “Will you pour, my lady? Or shall I?”
For some reason she didn’t quite understand, Cecelia found presiding over tea-time enjoyable. She supposed it was the stability it offered. The notion that this one tradition in life would always be the same; pouring the tea, arranging the tiny sandwiches and cakes on fragile porcelain plates, even the mundane conversation that took place until everyone was served. It didn’t much matter what else was happening in the world her mother had once observed. The king could be on his deathbed, the country in the midst of war, the heavens could be raining locusts and the seas could turn red with blood, but tea-time would always prevail. She smiled at him. “I will. Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?”
“No, thank you.”
He rolled the cart in front of her, bowed once more, and left.
Mrs. Halston had presented Miss Mae with a crisply folded handkerchief. “I’ll go find your spectacles. It should only take a moment.”
Miss Mae waved her hand. “Don’t waste time looking for them. I won’t wear them. They give me a headache.”
Mrs. Halston flushed and her lips compressed. Cecelia decided that an interruption at this point was in order. “How do you take your tea, Miss Mae?”
“Cream and one sugar my dear.”
“And you Mrs. Halston?”
“Cream and three sugars, milady.” She eyed the lemon tarts. “I confess, I have a sweet tooth.”
“I do, too,” Cecelia said as poured the tea. “My weakness is ginger biscuits but most anything sweet will do.” She added cream and sugar and then placed several sandwiches and a lemon tart on a plate and handed it to Miss Mae.
She did the same for Mrs. Halston adding an extra tart. She was wondering what direction to take the conversation when Miss Mae decided for her.
“You may as well know, Eva. I’ve told her about the curse. It was only fair.”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Mae. There’s no such thing.” She smiled apologetically at Cecelia. “A run of bad luck always sets tongues to wagging.”
“Run of bad luck, indeed!” Miss Mae protested. “Ill-luck has befallen the marquis and heirs of Clarendon for years. Lord Clarendon should be told.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Cecelia said as she added another dollop of cream to her cup. "I’ll apprise my husband of the situation.”
The sharp-eyed old woman suddenly smiled. “You’re humoring me, my dear, aren’t you?”
Cecelia burst into laughter. “Yes, I am, Miss Mae. Has it worked?”
“I suppose,” she admitted grudgingly.
The situation seemed adequately diffused. Cecelia sipped her tea.
Mrs. Halston picked up the lemon tart and broke off a small piece. “Do tell us about your children, Lady Clarendon. I adore children. My late husband and I weren’t blessed, I’m afraid.”
“The children are my husband’s wards,” Cecelia explained. “Friends of the family,” she added, hoping she could manage to skirt the truth without telling an out and out lie. “Rosie is five and David is six.”
“How lovely,” murmured Miss Halston.
“Children can be a nuisance,” Miss Mae declared. “They tend to be noisy and grubby and I don’t believe you would have enjoyed having children at all, Eva.”
Mrs. Halston wore a look of utter horror. “Miss Mae! How could you say such a thing? And I’m certain Lord Clarendon’s wards are neither grubby nor noisy.”
Miss Mae snorted. “Of course, they are. Very few children are quiet or fastidious and those who are, simply have no spunk at all. Personally I like a little spunkiness in a child. Most children are a nuisance. That’s what they do. It’s expected.”
“Then I believe you would like my husband’s wards, Miss Mae. Rosie finds it impossible to be quiet and David finds it impossible to stay clean. I sent them to the nursery for a bath and a nap and one would think I had banished them to the dungeons.” She smiled at Mrs. Halston. “I’m afraid, they’ve taken spunkiness a little too far. We hope to calm them down a bit while they’re here.”
“I should like to meet them,” Miss Mae declared. “Sitting in one’s chair untangling embroidery silks grows tedious and I could do with some entertainment. And Eva becomes very unpleasant when I choose to leave my apartments.”
“Now, you know perfectly well I’m happy to accompany you if you choose to take a short stroll. I simply don’t want you to become overtired.” She popped the last bite of lemon tart into her mouth and blotted her lips with a napkin.
Miss Mae sighed heavily as if she knew there was no use in arguing.
“I will arrange something,” Cecelia promised. “Though I would like to wait a few days to give them a chance to settle in.”
Miss Mae beamed happily. “Lovely.” She took a small sip of her tea then balanced the cup and saucer on her lap. “Now, my dear, if I could have a word with you about the menu. I find the fare I’m served too bland and better suited to the nursery.”
Mrs. Halston cast Cecelia an apologetic look before saying, “Dr. Tibbs has said that a woman of your years should be restricted to simple foods to avoid digestive upsets. And I doubt Lady Clarendon is interested in this vein of conversation.”
The elderly woman scowled. “I don’t see Dr. Tibbs having boiled custard and tasteless broth for dinner every evening.”
Cecelia glanced from one woman to the other as she debated the best way to deal with this latest grievance. She didn’t want to offend Mrs. Halston by taking Miss Mae’s side but nursery fare as a steady diet would not be to her liking, either. “What were you served last night?” she ventured cautiously.
“A stew made from unseasoned potatoes, turnips and a miniscule sliver of mutton. It was a dreadful shade of gray.”
Cecelia shuddered. “I’ll speak with the cook and see if we can come up with a more palatable solution.”
“Thank you, dear. A spot of brandy now and then wouldn’t come amiss, either. The watered wine I’m served has no flavor at all.” She stopped and put an unconvincing look of chagrin of her face. “Oh dear. I suppose I’m pushing my luck a bit. I shall leave that for another day.”
Their conversation went on to more mundane topics such as the weather, the ladies of Almack’s and the various entertainments Cecelia had enjoyed at during her season in London. Mrs. Halston seemed particularly enthralled by Cecelia’s description of her presentation at court. Personally, she had thought her presentation to the queen had been five of the dullest minutes of her life and Miss Mae must have thought so as well, because her head dropped forward and the rest of their conversation was accompanied by soft snores.
Mrs. Halston set her empty teacup on the table beside her. “I must beg your patience with Miss Mae’s outspokenness. I don’t believe she can help it.”
“There’s no need to be concerned. I quite like her.” As Cecelia absently folded her napkin in her lap, an unexpected twinge of homesickness hit her. She missed Priscilla. She even missed Aunt Mirabella and her brother. Suddenly subdued, she set her napkin to the side and rose. “I very much enjoyed the afternoon, but I should be leaving. Please let Miss Mae know how much I enjoyed myself and that once our charges have settled down, I’ll bring them to meet both of you.”
“We would be honored, my lady.”
Cecelia had just reached the door when she heard Miss Mae’s voice. “My dear.”
She turned to see the elderly woman looking very much awake.
“I thought you’d fallen asleep, Miss Mae.”
The pale eyes sparked with annoyance. “Nonsense. I may rest my eyes on occasion but I make it a point to never nap during the day. It dulls the mind. Actually, I’ve been thinking about Lord Clarendon and I’ve come to the conclusion that you needn’t worry overmuch about the curse.” Her lips curved into a serene smile. “I do think he should be told but your husband doesn’t strike me as a horse’s ass and I would imagine he exercises caution when needed.”
&n
bsp; Cecelia’s eyes widened in surprise then she burst into laughter drowning out Mrs. Halston’s sputtering protests. “I agree with you completely,” she said once she had regained some degree of control. “My husband is no horse’s ass. I will tell him, though I doubt he’ll give it any credence. Men can be rather unimaginative that way. I’ll leave you now, but thank you for a lovely afternoon. We’ll do this again, soon.” Her spirits buoyed, she shut the door behind her and headed for her chambers. She couldn’t wait to write Priscilla about the incorrigible Miss Mae.
“Billy’s very bright,” Cecelia told Rand as she finished her last spoonful of crab bisque. “All three of them are. But Billy seems to be the only one interested in learning anything. Rosie interrupts constantly and David tends to daydream. I need to find some way to keep their attention, but I’m not certain how to go about it. It’s very frustrating.” She glanced at Rand who was shuffling through the post Winston had brought in a few minutes earlier. They were taking their mid-day meal of crab bisque, roast capon, glazed carrots and pickled mushrooms in a small salon overlooking the terrace. It was one of those rare occasions when they were able to have lunch together and he wasn’t paying her the slightest bit of attention. This would not do. “Rand. Are you listening to me?”
“Mmm.” He picked up a knife and broke the wax seal on one of the letters.
She scowled and resisted the urge to kick him under the table. “I’ve decided to redo the entrance hall,” she announced. “What would you think of using puce, tangerine and lime green as the dominate colors? I know it would be rather bright but it would also be rather dramatic, wouldn’t it? Oh, and cherubs. Lots of cherubs, everywhere. We would be known for our cherubs. We could line them up on the steps that lead to the entrance. Wouldn’t that be charming? I’ll write Aunt Mirabella and see if she could come out to help me. I do miss having all those little dogs around, too. I’d like to take at least three of Athena’s litter. You wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with them, would you?”
He nodded absently as he continued to scan the correspondence.
Thoroughly disgruntled, she tried again. “I’m leaving Devon to join Astley’s Amphitheater. I’ve always wanted to learn how to do flips on the back of a horse. And they wear such marvelous costumes. We wouldn’t see much of one another, but as you insist on ignoring me it shouldn’t matter all that much. And you could visit me. I know that performing is dreadfully common and we would both be ruined in polite society but I’ve always believed in following one’s dreams. Don’t you agree?” When he didn’t respond she nudged his foot none too gently and exclaimed, “Rand! I could grow horns and a tail and you wouldn’t even notice. Have you heard anything I’ve said?”
He looked up. “We’ve been invited to a dinner party given by Lord and Lady Sheraton.”
Her heart sank. “Oh, blast.” She had known it would happen. She just hadn’t known how soon. The prospect of sharing an evening with one of her husband’s former lovers wasn’t at all appealing. She chewed nervously on her lower lip. “I suppose we must go.”
He nodded. “She included a letter with the invitation giving ‘heartfelt felicitations’ on our nuptials. As the dinner is more or less in our honor, I would say, yes, we must attend.” He set the letter by his plate and sighed. “We may as well get it over with, my dear. There will be others invited so you needn’t spend too much time with Lady Sheraton. We need to socialize with our neighbors and, in any event, you’re a social creature. You can’t spend all your time tutoring children and riding Penny. You’ll be bored silly in a month’s time.”
Resigned to the inevitable, she groaned. “When is this dinner party?”
He chuckled. “You sound as if you’re being led to the guillotine. It’s next Thursday. We’ve also been invited to stay the night, but I’ll plead a morning appointment I can’t change.”
“Very well,” she grumbled. “I’ll write and accept their invitation, but in the meantime I’ll pray that a plague will break out before Thursday and we’ll all be quarantined.”
“What a cheery thought. I can only hope your prayers won’t be answered. And by the way, you wouldn’t like working at Astley’s Amphitheater at all.”
“Why?”
“You’d have to cut off most of your lovely hair. Otherwise you’ll get tangled up in it.”
“But you’re the one who doesn’t want me to cut my hair. I shouldn’t mind all that much.”
“In addition,” he went on glibly. “You’d have to traipse about the country like a gypsy in a caravan, sleep in a flea infested bed with at least two other women beneath damp, musty sheets, you wouldn’t have Mattie around to help you dress or bring your morning chocolate or tea, you would never have the opportunity to wear your pretty gowns as traveling performers are sometimes the entertainment but never the guests at a society function.”
“Oh hush,” she retorted. “You’ve made your point.” She speared a carrot with her fork. “At least, you heard some of what I said. It’s very annoying to be ignored.”
“I heard everything you said.”
“You couldn’t have heard everything. You were too busy reading the Sheraton’s invitation. One can’t read and listen at the same time. It’s impossible.”
“But I can.” He ticked off his fingers. “Billy wants to learn and he’s doing well at his lessons. Rosie is constantly interrupting and David daydreams. You want to keep their interest but you don’t know how to go about it. You also want to redo the entrance hall in puce, tangerine and lime green. And you want to add cherubs to the decor. We will be known for our cherubs. But my question is, will the cherubs be puce, tangerine and lime green? What color are cherubs, anyway? Oh. I almost forgot. You want to invite Aunt Mirabella to help. And I refuse to share my bed with a horde of annoying dogs. It’s bad enough that that damned cat of yours finds her way to our bed.”
Her lower lip edged out a bit but her eyes were shining with laughter. “That is so unfair! I was doing a brilliant job of working my way into a proper fit and you’ve taken away most my ammunition. What good is a proper fit if you haven’t anything to base it on? I’m feeling rather bereft.”
“Most? What ammunition have I left you? You can’t be angry that I wasn’t listening because I was.”
“You were listening but you appeared not to be and that’s intolerably rude.”
“Would you rather I appear to be listening and not be?”
She pretended to mull this over in her head. “That would depend. As long as I didn’t know you weren’t listening I wouldn’t mind because, well, I wouldn’t know.”
“Good God, Cecelia.” He raked a hand through his hair. “You’ve curdled my brain. When did this conversation go awry?”
Grinning, she speared another carrot. “So how did you acquire this ability to read and listen at the same time? And understand both?”
“I don’t really know, but I’ve done well by it. Being able to do two things at once saves a great deal of time.” He laughed. “Though I nearly got kicked out of school because of it. My history instructor accused me of cheating because I passed the course yet didn’t appear to listen to a thing he said during his interminably long lectures. My grandfather was livid. By the time he was done with old fish face he was practically licking my boots. It’s an ugly thing to see a man groveling like that.”
“Fish face?”
“That’s what we called him. He had rather odd lips. Kind of like this.” He pursed his lips into a circle. “And when he lectured he looked like a fish gulping for air.”
Cecelia went into a peal of laughter. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you your face could freeze like that?”
“My mother did. Repeatedly.” He grinned. “But one heated kiss from you and I’d thaw out in no time.”
“You have the most disconcerting way of charming your way out of trouble, don’t you?”
“Years of experience.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek and then rose from his chair. “You must excuse me. I’ve a
ccounts to attend to.”
“And I’ve a letter to write,” she grumbled.
“There’s nothing to fear, Cecelia,” he said softly. “All will be well.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lady Sheraton was everything Cecelia had feared and more. The viscountess was past her youth, but still beautiful. Had she simply been beautiful, Cecelia wouldn’t have minded so much. It was the woman’s allure that bothered her. Everything about her bespoke a raw sensuality. Her movements were seductively languid and the throaty timbre of her voice was enough to beguile every man in the room. Shining blond hair was looped into thick coils held in place by a gold comb studded with amethyst and garnets. Amethyst teardrops dripped from her ears and a diamond and amethyst pendant on a gold chain drew attention to generous breasts barely covered by a clinging russet silk gown. Lady Sheraton had curves Cecelia knew she would never possess and it seemed dreadfully unfair that her face was no less magnificent than her body. Thinly plucked eyebrows arched dramatically over her drowsy pale blue-gray eyes and her cheeks and full lips were rouged. That she had resorted to the use of cosmetics was of little consolation. If there were tiny lines around her eyes and her complexion no longer held the first blush of youth, Cecelia decided that given all her other attributes very few men would care.
And when their hostess had turned to her husband and said in her rich husky voice, “Isn’t she a charming young lady, Sheraton?” Cecelia had felt all of twelve years old. It wasn’t her appearance that made her feel as if she was still in the school room. She was dressed the part of a marchioness in a rich turquoise velvet gown trimmed with gold embroidery and seed pearls. The bodice was cut to thrust her breasts forward and gave her a respectable amount of cleavage. Mattie had worked for over an hour with the curling iron taming her unruly hair into long corkscrew curls that were secured by a large gold and diamond hair clip and then fell dramatically over one shoulder. The diamond earrings and matching necklace given to her by her mother-in-law were not large but elegantly styled. But despite her stylish gown and accoutrements she felt young and countrified and wasn’t at all certain she would be able to blend in with this small gathering of sophisticated personalities.
The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) Page 20
