A Crime of Manners

by Rosemary Stevens

  Standing next to Lady Fuddlesby, Henrietta could hear her aunt speaking with Lady Cowper regarding vouchers for Almack’s. “And Miss Lanford’s mother’s mother was...”

  Henrietta prevented herself from squirming under the skeptical Lady Cowper’s stare.

  When the duke and Colonel Colchester approached, Henrietta felt the familiar telltale blush heat her cheeks. Winterton’s nearness released uncomfortable emotions in her.

  The duke, cool and aloof, introduced his godfather. Colonel Colchester was happy to finally be presented to Lady Fuddlesby, whom he privately termed a sweet-looking treat.

  Winterton studied the card dangling from Henrietta’s wrist. “Miss Lanford, how fortunate I am to find you free for the next dance. I thought I might have to wait until next Wednesday night at Almack’s to secure the pleasure of dancing with you,” he finished, glancing meaningfully at Lady Cowper. That lady nodded her acquiescence, and a smothered exclamation of delight came from Lady Fuddlesby.

  Annoyed at his high-handed intervention on her behalf with Lady Cowper and his examination of her dance card, Henrietta said in a falsely apologetic voice, “Your Grace, I fear the next dance is a waltz and I have not been granted permission to dance it.”

  The duke could hardly believe his ears. Was Miss Lanford trying to sidestep his invitation? No lady had ever been anything less than thrilled at his escort. He stood cold and austere.

  Into the awkward silence that followed, Lady Cowper pronounced, “You have my approval, Miss Lanford.”

  Outwitted, Henrietta turned to Lady Fuddlesby, but she would get no help from that quarter since her ladyship’s face was wreathed in smiles at the turn of events. Henrietta had no choice but to allow the duke to lead her to the dance floor.

  Joining the other couples prepared to begin the dance, she said, hesitantly, “I feel I must warn you I have never performed the steps of the waltz, other than with my governess, Biddles. She would not allow my dancing master to instruct me, feeling it improper.”

  “That is quite all right, Miss Lanford, you are safe with me,” he said condescendingly.

  She let out an unladylike snort. “Yes, indeed, Your Grace, just think of how well you have treated me in the short time we have known one another.”

  The duke ignored this sally. He moved close to her, slipping a gloved hand around her waist while his other hand held hers in a firm grasp.

  Henrietta suddenly had difficulty breathing. She felt tiny sparks of energy radiating from their clasped hands up her arm, and the place where the duke’s hand touched her waist burned. Fighting an intolerable desire to arch herself into his arms, she instructed herself to no longer be attracted to the duke in light of his contemptible behavior.

  Watching from the side of the dance floor, Lady Clorinda viciously pinched her mama’s arm, wringing a yelp from Lady Mawbly. “I wanted the duke to dance the waltz with me,” she whispered fiercely. “He has already drawn enough attention to that country nobody.”

  Jewels clinking, Lady Mawbly turned to her daughter and said, “I am certain he is only doing it to stop the gossip, my pet. Why, you have only to look at Miss Lanford’s inadequate frame to know she could never compete with you.”

  Clorinda vainly acknowledged this truth and positioned her bosom in the duke’s direction in case he chanced to look her way.

  When the music began, the duke, at first slowly, then as he sensed Henrietta’s growing confidence, expertly, led her through the steps. Soon she swirled around the room in his arms. She had done so before, in her imagination, but the feeling it evoked was not equal to the variety of foreign sensations her body was now experiencing here in actuality.

  Really, thought the duke, Lady Fuddlesby has done wonders with the chit. And those eyes, he did not recall they were so very blue. Her tiny waist made one feel protective. He pressed his lips together at the thought of her earlier humiliation.

  “Miss Lanford,” he nobly began his apology, “I fear someone took a carelessly uttered word from me and used it to amuse his friends. I hope you have forgotten the matter.”

  The duke’s words effectively broke the spell Henrietta had fallen under in his arms. All in that moment, she realized that the duke’s demeanor did not imply a reserved nature as she had naively believed after their previous meetings. The Duke of Winterton suffered from an excess of conceit and pride!

  “Was that intended as an apology, Your Grace?” she said. The eyes the duke had just been silently admiring now glittered. “If so, I find it sadly lacking.”

  The duke looked down his nose at the girl in his arms.

  “Miss Lanford, allow me to impart a piece of brotherly advice. If you will be going about in Society, you must learn something of the conventions. When a gentleman asks a lady to dance and then apologizes for an unpleasant occurrence, a lady accepts the apology graciously.”

  Henrietta chafed at the word “brotherly.” Her feelings for him had not run along those lines. “It appears to me that a gentleman would take responsibility for his words and not try to foist the blame of their consequences onto someone else,” she lectured.

  The duke gritted his teeth. With a sinking feeling, he realized she was correct. It was past bearing, but his sense of honor came to the fore.

  “Very well, Miss Lanford, I own myself at fault and ask your forgiveness. My churlish words were spoken in anger without any forethought.”

  At her puzzled frown, he went on, his usual air of hauteur gone for the moment.

  “You see, I have been pursued for my title and fortune this age by many ladies and then- mamas. It appeared at our meeting at Lady Fuddlesby’s this was once again the case. I grow weary of the game and directed my distaste at you unjustly.”

  He quietly uttered the words she realized she most wanted to hear. “The feminine beauty I see before me is the strongest argument that my regrettable comparison of you to a horse could not possibly be further from the truth.” His gray eyes turned silver for a moment, and Henrietta caught her breath.

  Her own pride made her lie, “You may be easy, your grace, in that I have entertained no notions of attracting your attentions.”

  He smiled indulgently at what he believed a patent falsehood. Every miss of marriageable age wished to attract his attention. “Then we shall forget the matter.”

  She began to think he might have some understanding after all.

  This feeling was dashed by the duke’s next words.

  “I observe you have taken up with the Viscount Baddick. I feel it my duty to warn you he is not what he seems.” He spoke in the commanding air one might use when addressing a child.

  He felt Henrietta stiffen and then move to break from his grasp. He tightened his hold on her. “Oh no, Miss Lanford, you will not flare up and bring another scene upon our heads this evening.”

  “You are insufferable, sir,” she responded with some heat. “I do not know what you can mean when you say I have ‘taken up with’ Lord Baddick. And I assure you, not that it is at all your concern, and that he has behaved as a gentleman.”

  Henrietta ruined this biting speech by throwing her head back defiantly, causing them both to lose their footing. With a quickness on his feet that could be credited to regular efforts at Gentleman Jackson’s, the duke adeptly righted them.

  Fortunately for the two combatants, the dance ended. Winterton gladly escorted Henrietta back to Lady Fuddlesby. With a chilly bow, he took himself off to the card room for the rest of the evening, much to the dismay of several ladies present, not the least of whom was Lady Clorinda.

  Lady Fuddlesby was enjoying a comfortable chat with Colonel Colchester. They shared the common circumstances of having both lost a spouse and been left with no children to comfort them.

  The colonel was loath to leave her ladyship’s agreeable company, but when he saw the glowering faces of the two people leaving the dance floor, he said, “Lady Fuddlesby, forgive me, but I think it prudent to excuse myself. May I have the honor of calling on y
ou?”

  Lady Fuddlesby favored him with a radiant smile. “Please do, sir.” Watching him follow the duke into the card room, her ladyship fanned her warm cheeks and told herself she had far too many years in her dish to be thinking such indecent thoughts about a man she had just met.

  A preoccupied Henrietta went through the motions with her dance partners the remainder of the evening. Several times she caught herself gazing toward the card room and brought herself severely to task at this folly.

  Lord Baddick noticed her distraction during their second dance together, and his eyes narrowed while he contemplated the meaning of this behavior. He had not seen her pay any one gentleman particular attention, so he ruled out the possibility of a rival. Still, if necessary, he would accelerate his own plans for her future.

  Later, when she lay sleeplessly in her bed, Henrietta recalled the words Lady Fuddlesby spoke in the carriage on the way to the Denbys’, and silently agreed the night of her first ball would truly be a night to remember.

  * * * *

  On the afternoon of the following day, Henrietta sat with Lady Fuddlesby in the drawing room.

  “Oh, my dear, I daresay I am well pleased with your success at the Denbys’ last evening.” Lady Fuddlesby served as chaperon during the afternoon as several young men had come to call. Floral tributes stood in vases around the room, including a lavish arrangement from Beau Brummell, who had stopped by for a brief visit.

  “Yes, my lady. After an inauspicious beginning, the night proved enjoyable.” Henrietta stabbed a needle into a piece of stitchery, reflecting that every one of her gallants paled in comparison to the Duke of Winterton. And Lord Baddick, she firmly reminded herself.

  Henrietta had passed a troubled night. As dawn approached she had finally fallen asleep and directly into the Duke of Winterton’s arms. They were dancing the waltz in an empty ballroom. When she opened her mouth to speak to him, all that came out was a horse’s whinny. The duke threw his dark head back and laughed at her. She woke up abruptly, sitting up in bed breathing hard.

  After another period of restless sleep, she dreamt of Lord Baddick. In the dream, when that gentleman lowered his head to kiss her, he suddenly changed into the Duke of Winterton. At the very moment the duke’s lips were to meet Henrietta’s, she awakened for the day, feeling unreasonably frustrated.

  Neither of these gentlemen had put in an appearance yet. Henrietta concentrated on wishing for Lord Baddick’s company but started nonetheless when Chuffley intoned, “Colonel Owen Colchester, my lady.”

  Henrietta fought down disappointment as the colonel entered the room alone.

  The handsome military man eyed both ladies appreciatively, “Well, I own I must be the luckiest of men. To have London’s two prettiest ladies all to myself!”

  Henrietta smiled and then glanced at her aunt, noticing the faintest of blushes rise in her round face.

  In his arms Colonel Colchester carried two bouquets. He handed one of creamy yellow roses to Henrietta, saying, “With the Duke of Winterton’s compliments, Miss Lanford.”

  Henrietta stood up, surprised and more uncertain than ever. “Please convey my thanks to his grace, sir.” She accepted the flowers and moved away to place them on a side table, biting her lip hard to prevent herself from asking why the duke had not accompanied his godfather on this call.

  Colonel Colchester handed a beautiful bouquet of pink roses to Lady Fuddlesby. “I see these match your gown, my lady. May I hope the color pleases you?”

  “Oh, yes indeed, colonel,” Lady Fuddlesby replied with a coy smile, and reached for the roses.

  At that moment Knight walked into the room and saw the stranger. A running leap brought him into Lady Fuddlesby’s lap and sent the roses flying.

  “Oh dear, oh dear, Knight! Mustn’t do!” She gently waived the cat away. “I am sorry, Colonel Colchester. This is my precious boy, Knight in Masked Armour. Perhaps he saw someone he did not know and felt he needed to come to my defense. You see, he is very intelligent and protective.”

  She and the colonel bent to retrieve the fallen flowers. Colonel Colchester caught a look he could only interpret as a warning from the cat, which then jumped to the fireplace mantel where he observed the caller through slitted eyes.

  Chuffley appeared in the doorway again and announced, “Viscount Baddick.”

  Lord Baddick entered the room carrying an enormous arrangement of wildflowers. He bowed. “Good afternoon, Lady Fuddlesby. Miss Lanford, I see you have received many floral tributes today, which does not at all surprise me. A lady of your beauty must be admired by many.” He handed her the flowers, saying, “I hope my humble offering may find favor with you.”

  Henrietta accepted this latest bouquet graciously. “Thank you, sir. Have you met Colonel Colchester?” she asked.

  The two men shook hands, and Lady Fuddlesby begged Lord Baddick to take a seat.

  The colonel remembered the duke’s dubious opinion of Lord Baddick and decided to study him closely. He would not have sweet Lady Fuddlesby upset by an unsavory suitor for her charge.

  Unaware of the scrutiny he was under, Lord Baddick remained standing and said, “In truth, my lady, I have come in hopes I may persuade Miss Lanford to come driving with me. The day is unusually fine and I have an open carriage, so we may observe the proprieties.”

  Lady Fuddlesby saw Henrietta’s eager look and gave her permission.

  Henrietta hurried upstairs to change her dress.

  Lord Baddick sat on a matching chair opposite the brocade sofa, and charmed the company with amusing on dits until Henrietta reappeared clad in a Clarence-blue velvet carriage dress. A matching velvet bonnet trimmed with white fur complemented her doll-like features.

  They took their leave, and after he saw her seated comfortably in his carriage, Lord Baddick drove them toward Hyde Park. He did not waste any time before he began tightening his web of seduction.

  “Miss Lanford, as beautiful as the blue sky is this afternoon, its color pales in comparison to your eyes.”

  Henrietta felt exhilarated, riding next to this fashionable gentleman who thought her attractive.

  “Thank you, my lord. It is a glorious day, is it not? I am so happy you came to take me out!

  Encouraged by this artless assertion, Lord Baddick assumed a serious mien and confided, “I find your happiness to be of prime concern to me, Miss Lanford. I pray you do not find me overbold, but in the short time of our acquaintance I have felt drawn to you as I have to no other lady.”

  “You are too kind, my lord,” she said, feeling a thrill of purely feminine triumph.

  They pulled into the gates of the park, and Lord Baddick was forced to concentrate on his driving. The street was quite crowded. It seemed everyone was taking advantage of the weather.

  Henrietta and Lord Baddick were chatting amiably when the traffic became so thick, they were obliged to stop their progress altogether.

  During this pause another open carriage, going in the opposite direction, came abreast. Henrietta was caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the man who had dominated her dreams the night before.

  The Duke of Winterton found himself staring into the wide, innocent eyes of Miss Henrietta Lanford. When he saw she was escorted by that cur Baddick, he felt himself grow irritated.

  He gave the couple a brief nod and continued to hold Miss Lanford’s gaze lazily, through half-closed lids. “Lady Clorinda, allow me to present Miss Henrietta Lanford and Viscount Baddick,” he drawled.

  Henrietta murmured a greeting, thinking the duke more masculine than ever in a dark gray coat, leather breeches, and top boots.

  Her eyes shifted to his serene companion, the blonde she’d seen him with at the Denbys’ ball. Today the lady was dressed in the thinnest of muslins.

  Her bosom was accentuated by a short leaf-green spencer that just reached the high waist of her gown. A plumed bonnet sat atop her golden curls.

  Henrietta did not notice Lord Baddick’s reaction to the
beauty. His eyes drank in the sensuality of Lady Clorinda’s body while he managed to sweep a bow and hold the reins. He’d noticed her the evening before at the Denbys’, and hasty inquiries had netted him the disappointing information that Lady Clorinda was well guarded by both her parents.

  “Lady Clorinda, your servant,” Lord Baddick said, thinking of the many ways he could enjoy serving her indeed.

  Clorinda remembered how Miss Lanford had stolen her waltz with the duke. Always ready to enslave another suitor, she smiled at Lord Baddick blindingly.

  “How do you do, Lord Baddick?” Turning a contemptuous gaze to Henrietta, Lady Clorinda addressed the viscount. “What sturdy-looking horses you have, my lord.”

  Henrietta blushed at the obvious reference to her humiliation the night before.

  Sitting beside Clorinda, the duke could not see the mocking look in that lady’s eyes and thus missed the implication.

  Lord Baddick managed to suppress an appreciative chuckle before he disgraced himself in his prey’s estimation. He merely said, “Thank you, my lady.”

  A break appeared in the traffic and the carriages parted.

  All the glory of the day died for Henrietta. She could no longer deny she felt hopelessly drawn to the duke. And he would never return her regard. A bitter jealousy stirred inside her at the thought of Clorinda’s sophisticated charms. She sighed, clasped her slender hands together in her lap, and stared at them.

  Lord Baddick thought for the first time the silly chit sitting next to him might have formed a tendre for the Duke of Winterton, the proudest, most arrogant man in London! All to the good, he reasoned. When Winterton spurned Miss Lanford, she would be even riper for the plucking.

  * * * *

  The duke escorted Clorinda to her home, maintaining a cordial conversation. He found the lady met all his qualifications for duchess, but determined to proceed slowly in order to be certain.