Lady Incognita

by Nina Coombs Pykare

  “Louisa, my dear,” replied his lordship in affected tones. “You are behind the times. Assuredly any gentleman worthy of the name can shoot his cuffs in several dozen ways. Observe.”

  The resulting mime of the exquisite left Louisa breathless with laughter. When she could finally speak again, she said, “In spite of the beau’s great talents, I am afraid I do not find him husband material. Nor does Lord Harvey exactly fill my expectations in that regard.”

  The Viscount’s dark eyes danced with mischief. “You are not fooling me for a single moment, Louisa Penhope. I know why you are rejecting these unfortunate fashionables.”

  Louisa felt her heart beat faster. Surely he could not have discovered her secret. “You do?” she faltered.

  “Of course. In spite of all your sharp words to the contrary you are a believer in heroes. And you will not marry until you have found your hero.”

  Louisa managed a shaky laugh. “You are wrong, Philip. I am not waiting for a hero. In spite of all your persuasive words to the contrary I am still of the opinion that heroes do not exist.” The lie was a necessary one, she thought as the words passed her lips. Surely no one would expect her to be truthful in a situation like this. “I shall never marry,” said Louisa firmly. “I am quite sure of that.”

  The Viscount appeared to be examining her features closely. Then, as if satisfied by what he saw, he smiled lazily. “I should never say never, if I were you. As I remember, heroes have a way of silencing all the heroine’s qualms.”

  Louisa laughed nervously. “If I do not believe in heroes,” she asserted, “then I cannot be expected to believe in their powers.”

  His lordship nodded. “Quite true, yet I would bet another fifty guineas that you will marry within the six months.”

  “You would only lose your money, I am quite sure,” said Louisa, affecting a gaiety she was far from feeling. “But if you have nothing better to do than gamble away your funds ...”

  “You are tempting me, Louisa. But I believe I had better concentrate my efforts on discovering Lady Incognita. You can keep me from winning a wager based on your marriage simply by delaying it. But Lady Incognita has no such recourse. Once her identity is uncovered she can do nothing to save herself.”

  Louisa did not reply to this. Much as she disliked his lordship’s making plans to marry her off, she found that indignity much preferable to being unmasked as Lady Incognita.

  “Perhaps I should make you such a wager,” she said, forcing laughter into her voice, “and then to win it you might provide me with a husband.”

  Atherton chuckled and then pretended to frown. “I fear you are too particular when it comes to such matters. Why,” he rallied her, “I have already presented to you two bucks without rival and you have done nothing but pull them to bits.”

  Louisa could not help smiling. “You are right, Philip. I am simply incorrigible.” She glanced up at the sky. “I think perhaps Harvey may be gone by now. May we return to the house?”

  “Of course.” His lordship gave the driver the necessary orders. “I came on this particular occasion to take Apricot home with me. Have you any suggestions as to how I may convey him without undue distress to my attire?”

  Louisa considered. “I suppose a basket is the best thing. We must tie the lid down tightly so that he cannot escape. Do you really want him?”

  “I have already answered that question,” said his lordship, his lips tightening. “I want Apricot. And,” his eyes met hers suddenly, “I always get what I want.”

  Louisa, locked in the gaze of those eyes, found it difficult to breathe. What did he mean by those words? And what did he mean by the look in his eyes - that look that seemed halfway between threat and invitation?

  Somewhat later Louisa stood in the hallway beside the Viscount, as Drimble and a tearful Betsy secured the protesting Apricot. “I know you will take good care of him,” said Betsy. “He’s such a darling.”

  “I expect that he will grow up to be the terror of all the rodents in the neighbor-hood,” said his lordship. “Is your brother about anywhere?”

  Betsy nodded. “I’ll get him.”

  Moments later she was back with a beaming Harry, obviously quite pleased to have been summoned by his idol.

  “I have a slight problem,” said the Viscount. “And I thought perhaps the two of you could help me.”

  Two heads nodded eagerly.

  “In a moment of weakness I engaged a box at Astley’s Amphitheater,” said Atherton. “And now I find I have no one to accompany me. The circus, of course, is no fun alone. Would you mind terribly giving me your company there?”

  Harry and Betsy both turned eager faces to their sister. “Oh, Louisa can we? Oh, it will be such fun.”

  Louisa was not at all deceived by his lordship’s talk of favors. Undoubtedly he had rented the box for the express purpose of entertaining the children. A sudden suspicion flashed through her mind - could he have some clue to her secret and be looking for a way to find out about her from the children?

  Then Atherton spoke again. “Of course, I expect Louisa to go too. Have you ever been to Astley’s?”

  Louisa was forced to admit that she had not, and there seemed nothing left to do but to accept his kind offer.

  As his lordship departed with the basketed Apricot while Betsy and Harry scampered off to contemplate their coming excursion with ecstasy, Louisa made her way to her room. Settling down at her writing desk, she was aware of two things. The first was the success of the Viscount’s stratagem to ease Betsy’s sadness over the loss of her pet. That she could applaud and dismiss.

  But the second thing she was aware of was not so easily forgotten. For ever and anon, between the paper and her gaze, would appear a vision of that strange look in his lordship’s eyes - that look that seemed to hold both threat and invitation - and yet assuredly, in the name of all that was reasonable and sane, must hold neither.

  Chapter Ten

  During the days between his lordship’s invitation to Astley’s and the moment that he arrived with his carriage to pick them up, Louisa was treated to innumerable hearsay tales of what Astley’s was really like. To each account she could only shake her head and reply quite truthfully, if perhaps rather sheepishly, “I don’t know. I’ve never been there either.”

  Sometimes, during those days, Louisa would find herself staring at the pages in which Percival and Corrine were being hounded by the satanic Count Ombre, staring without seeing a thing. And then she would discover that her mind had deserted her work and was speculating on Astley’s too. At those times she looked back with a certain sense of awe at the simplicity of the life they had led a few short weeks before. At the time it had seemed a relatively happy life, though perhaps from her present perspective it appeared a little narrow.

  There had been no excitement such as now insisted on pounding in her veins at the sound of a carriage pulling up out front. No consideration every morning over what dress she ought to put on in case this was a day he should call. No fear each time she watched him depart that he might never return. No, all of those things had entered her life just a few short weeks ago when she had looked up from her sketchbook to find a tall dark stranger - a hero incarnate - scrutinizing her.

  Louisa sighed. Before their fateful trip to the abbey, life had been - aside from her perennial money worries - calm and peaceful. Contented. But dull. She had to admit that. Nothing that she could make up could come near to matching the reality of the excitement she felt since the advent of Viscount Atherton into the formerly narrow sphere of her life.

  Nothing in her life would ever be the same, she told herself. Not since she had met a hero in the flesh. If only he were not, in a certain respect at least, her enemy. If only he had not made that wager, that wager that might ruin all her plans for Betsy and cost her Atherton’s regard if he learned the truth.

  Then, she would tell herself, even if there were no wager, it was sheer foolishness for her to be thinking of marriage. Unles
s perhaps as Atherton had jokingly suggested -or had it been a joke? - to some older, less attractive man.

  At this thought, Louisa would shudder and reach hurriedly for a fresh pen. She would never marry for financial reasons, she told herself. Never. Never.

  And whatever the Viscount’s reasons for befriending them - his father’s debt of honor to the Colonel, his sister’s friend-ship with Mama, his lordship’s own desire to escape boredom - whatever the reason, she had vowed to enjoy the friendship while it existed. Time enough to mourn its loss when it was over.

  And so, when Atherton’s carriage arrived, Louisa was ready, her eyes sparkling with quite as much eager anticipation as those of her younger siblings.

  The Viscount’s eyes surveyed her and it seemed as though her heart would stand still. Then he smiled, that lazy cynical smile that at the same moment seemed to offer threat and invitation. “I see that everyone is ready. I take it no one is feeling ill or unable to attend.”

  A chorus of “Of course not. Oh, don’t tease. We’re all ready” rose from the children while Louisa found herself returning his smile with a demure one of her own.

  “Good,” said he. “My coachman has indicated to me that he wishes some company on the box. If either of you should wish to sit with him...”

  “Yes, oh yes,” cried Betsy and Harry together.

  “Then if we are all ready,” said his lordship, reaching for Louisa’s shawl and putting it around her shoulders with practiced ease, “on to Astley’s.”

  There was certainly no need for a second invitation. Louisa, watching the children hurry down the walk and clamber up to their places by the coachman, felt a great deal of gratitude to the man who had made this excursion possible.

  She turned to Atherton as he handed her into the carriage. “You are very kind. The children will greatly enjoy this outing.”

  His eyes regarded her quizzically as he settled beside her. “And you?”

  Louisa blushed. “I, too, shall enjoy it. I have never been to Astley’s before.”

  “Good,” said his lordship with such obvious satisfaction that she stared at him in surprise.

  “I expected as much. I believe you grew up too quickly.”

  Louisa smiled sadly. “I fear it is a little too late to remedy that.”

  The Viscount smiled strangely. “I think not. We have introduced you to the ton. My sister, who is on top of all the latest on-dits, assures me that you have taken admirably. I have taught you to waltz, and driven you in Hyde Park, and now I am taking you to your first circus.”

  “You have done far too much for us,” protested Louisa. “Surely your father’s debt of honor to the Colonel was paid long ago.”

  The Viscount frowned. “Surely I must be the judge of that. And I tell you quite frankly, Miss Penhope, I will not consider it paid in full until you are safely married.”

  “Married! Me?”

  Again that strange smile crossed his face. “Yes. Married. You. I told you before that life for a woman alone is too difficult.”

  “But I cannot ... Surely you don’t expect...”

  A chuckle escaped from Atherton’s lips. “Don’t fly into a panic. Of course I don’t expect you to go off with the exquisite or the pomposity. But there will be others. Perhaps even a hero.”

  He seemed to be trying to read some-thing in her face. Louisa managed a little laugh. “I think not, milord. I do not intend to marry.”

  Atherton frowned. “That is unwise. Could you not have an open mind on the subject?”

  “I could, I suppose. But I do not see how that would help at all.” Louisa did not like this discussion. If she were to tell the Viscount the truth - that there was only one man in this world that she would ever consider marrying - he would probably smile in that cynical lazy way of his and offer to persuade the man for her! But if he should ever discover that that man was Viscount Atherton himself she would never be able to bear the pity with which he would regard her.

  “Your bump of stubbornness,” observed his lordship, “appears to be quite as prominent as mine.”

  Louisa forced herself to laugh. “I have never consented to let Aunt Julia explore my skull, so I do not know which of my ‘organs’ are overdeveloped. But I do not remember that there is a bump of stubbornness.”

  The Viscount laughed. “I find Aunt Julia’s science is rapidly losing esteem in my mind. There must be an ‘organ’ of stubbornness. It is such an obvious component of the human personality.”

  Louisa could only shake her head. “I am not a scientific person,” said she. “And quite frankly I have kept as far as possible from Aunt Julia’s science.”

  “Very wise of you,” observed his lordship with a dry smile. He looked her over carefully. “You are quite right. I judge that you are not the scientific type at all.”

  Louisa waited, wondering what his lordship would say next.

  “Yes,” Atherton said slowly. “I judge that you are the romantic type.”

  “But I do not believe in romance,” protested Louisa. “I am a very practical person.”

  His lordship shook his head. “I think not. On the surface perhaps you appear to be practical. But deep in your heart you are romantic to the core.”

  Louisa laughed with embarrassment. “I do not even believe in heroes,” she reminded him.

  “The practical part of you may not,” conceded his lordship, his eyes boring suddenly into hers. “But the romantic part of you does. Or wants to.”

  Louisa could not tear her eyes away from his, even though she was extremely fearful of what he might read there.

  Finally he reached out and patted her gloved hand. “Do not stare at me with such wide fearful eyes. Or I shall begin to suspect that I am cast as villain rather than hero in this drama.”

  “Oh no! That is ...” Louisa dropped her eyes in confusion, then rallied. “You have many times assured me of your position as a hero,” said she. “Surely now you will not back down. Where is your stubbornness?”

  Atherton laughed. “Another hit. You do well.” He chuckled. “You will have no trouble putting down the exquisite or the pomposity should either require it.”

  Louisa could not forbear from giggling. “The exquisite would at least hear me if I gave him a set down. I’m not sure that I could get through to the pomposity.” She stumbled over the word, but it was such an adequate description of Lord Harvey that she could not help using it.

  Atherton frowned thoughtfully. “I had not considered that,” said he. “I judge that Harvey will be much more difficult to discourage than Reardon. Especially as he may enlist Aunt Julia as an ally.”

  “Oh no!” The thought of Aunt Julia encouraging anyone to enter the state of matrimony caused her to burst into peals of laughter.

  Atherton regarded her in surprise until she was able to speak properly. “It’s ... it’s just that the idea of Aunt Julia encouraging me to marry ... is so amusing.”

  Atherton nodded. “I take it that Aunt Julia does not look with favor upon the institution of matrimony.”

  Louisa also nodded. “That’s true,” said she. “But it isn’t the institution that has so much earned her animosity as it is the male half of the species.”

  “I see,” replied Atherton. “Was Aunt Julia born with such animosity or did she come by it later?”

  Louisa shook her head. “I do not know. When Aunt Julia came to live with us, almost five years ago, she was just like she is now. At least in regard to her opinion of men. She regards everything male with distrust.”

  “Except,” said Atherton with a quick smile, “when she has a desire for his skull.”

  “Yes,” Louisa laughed. “Phrenology has caused her to forget her distrust, but only momentarily. Generally, after she feels a man’s skull, she finds her suspicions confirmed.”

  The Viscount laughed. “At any rate,” said he, “I should put my blunt on you. Even the two of them could not persuade you.”

  Louisa’s laugh was a little shaky, for
she found all this discussion of her matrimonial prospects a little disconcerting, particularly with this man.

  Fortunately the driver had pulled up to the Amphitheater and both Harry and Betsy were calling gleefully. “We’re there, Louisa. We’re at the circus.”

  Louisa’s own eyes sparkled as Atherton handed her down. “You look like a child yourself,” said his lordship. “All wide eyes and smile.”

  “I, too, am eager to see the circus,” said Louisa with a shy smile. “Perhaps you were right about my growing up too soon.”

  The Viscount smiled. “Today we are all children. We shall all marvel together.” With that he tucked her arm through his and led her inside to their box.

  As the children settled into their seats, Louisa looked around her. The building was huge, shaped somewhat in the form of an egg. From the center of the ceiling was suspended a magnificent glass chandelier containing many many patent lamps. From their box she looked down into the large equestrian circle, now empty.

  “Look, look,” cried Harry. “The horses will gallop right down there - on the sawdust.”

  The sound of music intrigued Betsy and she quickly located the orchestra in its place in front of the stage and pointed it out to Louisa.

  As they watched, a clown came tumbling into the ring, looked up to the audience and shouted, “Here we are!” After him stalked the ringmaster with his long whip in hand. He turned and bowed gracefully to the crowd. His military uniform and voluminous white stock gave him the appearance of great dignity and even the sawdust could not diminish the splendor of his highly polished black boots. The clown somersaulted up to him and began to trade badinage to the inexpressible delight of the audience.

  Then the music grew more martial and the clown retired to make way for a troop of horses that came galloping into the equestrian circle. Young Harry, practically beside himself with excitement, was bouncing on his seat and crying repeatedly, “Look! Oh, look!”