An Affair of Honor

by Amanda Scott

  Rory frowned. “I suppose I was consulted. Papa said he thought, being that Huntley was past the age of foolishness, that he could be brought up to scratch, which sent Mama into transports of delirium, so I could not but realize that the match is an excellent one. I shall be a countess, you know, and the pin money he has promised me would make you stare, Aunt Nell. He is vastly rich, you know. Though he was not such a fool as to scoff at the chance to acquire Papa’s estates, of course.”

  “But you do not love him, Rory,” Nell said gently.

  “Of course not. Nor he me. That would be very unfashionable, would it not? I expect I shall find romance elsewhere, however.”

  Nell stared at her, shocked at last. “Romance?”

  “Well, of course,” Rory replied, wide-eyed. “Does not every woman long for romance?” Nell allowed herself a bemused nod, not trusting herself to speak. Rory went on. “I own I should like to be really, truly in love, but I doubt it is in my nature. The minute I think I am in love—and I have thought so many times, you know—I discover something about him that puts me right off. Like my drawing master, for example. He was a delightful man. Handsome beyond permission and a voice that could charm anyone, but I soon discovered he had no sense of humor. And Hailey, Papa’s groom. A great sense of adventure. He was full to the brim with ideas and had a wonderful sense of humor. But I soon realized he would be quite out of place at an assembly or even in Mama’s drawing room. So I fell out of love immediately.”

  “Wh-what does poor Huntley lack?” Nell asked weakly.

  “Oh, any number of things,” Rory responded without a blink. “He is not at all romantic, you know. He becomes utterly cynical whenever anyone mentions the advantages of rank, though Papa certainly would not have entertained the notion of a marriage between us had he still been a mere younger son instead of a wealthy earl. And he makes not the slightest effort to win my regard. He treats me, in fact, like a child, and not even a favorite child at that. My behavior shocks him from time to time, and he has an unfortunate tendency to bellow when he is displeased. He does not understand that I am constitutionally incapable of sitting quietly and sewing seams as his mother must have done. Why, the first thing he told Papa after the betrothal papers were signed was that I must no longer be allowed to ride about the estate without a groom to attend me. Can you believe such fustian? I own I was vastly annoyed with him. And with Papa as well. For what must he do but agree with the idiotish man! I ask you, Aunt Nell.” Rory spread her hands in a gesture that, in anyone else, might have been meant to indicate helplessness. But Nell did not think her niece was at all the helpless sort.

  “Surely, no well-bred young lady rides unaccompanied in the country,” she suggested for lack of anything else to say.

  “Well, I didn’t dress to look like a young lady at such times,” Rory said flatly. “Whenever I rode alone like that, it was because I wished to ride astride, unhampered by skirts and conventions alike. I wore boy’s clothing. Besides,” she added hastily, “on my papa’s very own estates, who would dare to accost me?”

  Who, indeed? Nell thought, ruthlessly stifling her shock at the thought of her niece in boy’s clothing. If anyone could take care of herself, she was willing to believe Rory could. She regarded that young woman with fascination. In the reflected firelight Rory looked like a vibrant, golden girl. Her hair glittered with gilt highlights. Even her simple white muslin gown seemed to pulse now with an orange-gold life of its own. Surely, no man could look at such a girl and not be besotted. She seemed nearly magical, a sort of fairy princess. No, not a fairy princess, Nell amended. Fairy princesses were by nature generally gentle, submissive sorts. Nell doubted that there was a submissive bone in Rory’s body. His lordship would certainly have his work cut out for him. She wondered if he had half a notion of what lay ahead of him.

  She realized Rory was waiting for her to comment. “I am certain you must feel perfectly secure on your papa’s estates, dear, where everyone knows who you are. But I do hope you will not attempt to ride alone or improperly attired while you are staying with us. Not only Lord Huntley, but everyone else would stare to see you behave so improperly.”

  “Well, I brought my mare, for I was persuaded we should ride from time to time. I hope we may do so often.”

  “Of course we shall, if you like. There are some splendid rides along the cliffs, or we can ride to Brighton Downs one day if you think it would amuse you to do so. I enjoy riding very much.”

  “Brighton Downs,” Rory repeated thoughtfully. Even as Nell saw the pit yawning before her, the golden eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and the lithe young body in the slipper chair showed even greater animation than before. “Is that not where the prince’s regiment is encamped?”

  “It is,” Nell replied, carefully keeping her voice even. “We shall not ride near the encampment, however.”

  “Oh.” The single word expressed a good deal of disappointment.

  “For heaven’s sake, Rory, surely you would not wish to parade before a bunch of unruly soldiers!”

  “Well, no, not common soldiers, Aunt Nell, but there are officers as well, are there not?”

  “Now, see here, young lady,” Nell began sternly. But when her niece only looked interested to hear what she would say next, she broke off with a laugh. “I daresay now you are roasting me. But it will not do, you know. In your own village, where you are known, your behavior must generally be excused, but here in Brighton I beg you will be circumspect. Pranks will not be well accepted, and your behavior, good or bad, will reflect upon both your grandmama and myself. I hope you will remember that before you do anything improper.”

  “Oh dear,” Rory said. “Then you, too, expect me to do outrageous things. I know that Huntley fears the same thing.”

  “I don’t expect anything of the sort,” Nell returned. “But from what I have heard and seen so far, I believe you to be as high-spirited as you were at twelve, and I’m persuaded that you rarely think before you act or speak. And that,” she added when her niece looked stricken, “is plain speaking, indeed.” She leaned forward, holding out a hand. “I have accepted the duties of a chaperon, my dear, but I am truly not a dragon. I do hope we shall be friends.”

  Rory flashed her a brilliant smile and grasped the outstretched hand warmly. “We shall be, Aunt Nell. I just know we shall be. And I shall try very hard not to do anything that will bring discredit to you or to Grandmama. I may still roast Kit occasionally, may I not?”

  “With my goodwill,” Nell laughed, giving Rory’s hand a quick squeeze. “It may help prevent him from putting himself on too high a form.” She got up and moved to pull the bell. “I believe I shall ring for tea now, dear. I know the hour is not yet far advanced, but you have had a tiring journey and will wish to be at your best tomorrow. An early night will be good for both of us. I doubt that we shall see many of them in the days ahead.”

  “Shall we be very busy, ma’am?”

  “Indeed we shall. Once word gets around that I am sponsoring my beautiful niece, we shall have more invitations than we shall be able to answer.”

  “Shall we be invited to the Pavilion?”

  “Oh, dear.” Nell paused, with her hand on the tapestry bell pull, staring at her niece in dismay. “It never occurred to me to ask Clarissa whether she meant that for you or not. However,” she added quickly when Rory moved to protest, “I daresay she would have mentioned it if she objected.” She pulled the bell. “Just see that you remember to show proper respect to Mrs. Fitzherbert if you should chance to meet her.”

  “The prince’s mistress?” Rory looked more excited than shocked by the possibility.

  “Here in Brighton many look upon her as the prince’s true wife,” Nell told her. “She is very kind, and many think she has not been fairly treated. ’Tis all on account of that infamous Marriage Act, you know. Her marriage to the prince was never annulled, because it was not considered to be legal in the first placed—not having the King’s blessing and all.”
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  “Were they actually married, Aunt Nell? I heard ’twas nothing but fudge.”

  Nell nodded. “We believe so, at any rate. ’Tis on account of Mrs. Creevey, Mama’s good friend, telling us last autumn—I believe ’twas just before the action at Trafalgar, you know—that Prinny had suffered a curious slip of the tongue. He was telling Mrs. Creevey how he had spent the day quietly alone with Mrs. Fitzherbert at her house on the Steyne, which—and these were his very own words, mind you—was certainly very unfashionable. Now, does that not show that he, at least, believes himself to be her lawful husband? For how else could he possibly have thought his actions unfashionable?”

  Rory went into a peal of laughter, startling the maid who entered just then with the teatray. “Oh, Aunt Nell, ’tis unanswerable proof, to be sure.”

  “Well, we thought so,” Nell replied with a smile. “Put the tray on that table, Katy. We mean to help ourselves.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and left them to investigate the covered dishes. “Oh, good. Cinnamon muffins,” Nell said. “Cook makes excellent muffins. Do have one.”

  “What about the Princess Caroline of Brunswick, then?” Rory asked once she had buttered her muffin.

  “We do not see Prinny’s wife here or his daughter, either,”

  Nell replied simply, pouring them each a cup of hot tea. “Indeed, he seems a good deal less interested in poor Princess Charlotte than in Mrs. Fitzherbert’s little Minny. You will often see him with them as they stroll among the visitors on the Steyne or drive in his carriage along the esplanade.”

  Rory frowned suddenly. “You told Huntley we would drive with him on the esplanade tomorrow,” she said slowly. “Must we?”

  Nell sipped her tea, watching her companion over the rim of the fragile cup. She did not reply until she had replaced the cup in its saucer. “We must. He wants to get to know you better, my dear, and I must say that considering you will soon be his wife, I should think you would agree that his intentions are admirable and do all in your power to help him achieve his purpose.”

  “He did not even say what time he means to call for us.” Rory sounded sulky.

  “Never mind that, child,” Nell said comfortably. “I daresay that if we do not chance to meet him at Donaldson’s Library, he will contrive to send a message here to the house. He is a gentleman who is perfectly capable of dealing with such minor details.”

  Rory sighed and reached for another muffin.

  IV

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING DAWNED crisp and clear. When the middle-aged chambermaid who brought Nell her morning chocolate opened the moss-colored velvet drapes in her bedchamber, bright rays of sunshine spilled across the mellow-toned Holbein carpet, almost touching the embroidered flounce of her bed. The bedchamber, not being one of the principal rooms of the house, looked both to the south and to the east and, situated as it was on the second floor, presented a fine view—on sunny days, at least—of bright chalk cliffs and sparkling blue sea.

  Sitting up, Nell stretched and pulled off her cap, pushing the resultant tumble of curls back over her shoulders as the maid plumped pillows behind her.

  “Open a window, Mary. ’Tis a lovely day.”

  “You’ll catch your death, Miss Nell.” But, moving obediently to do her mistress’s bidding, Mary did not speak as if she entertained any expectation of her words being heeded. Nell grinned at her stiff back.

  “Hundreds of people come to Brighton every year for the sole purpose of breathing our wonderful air, Mary.”

  “Be that as it may, Miss Nell, that air is damp, and you know quite as well as anyone that damp air carries ague and a plague of other nasty things. Windows was meant to be shut.”

  Nell chuckled. “Is Lady Aurora awake yet?”

  “Dunno, I’m sure, miss,” Mary replied, adjusting the sash to admit as little as possible of the gentle sea breeze. “That maid of ’ers be a saucy piece o’ goods, ’n all. Said ’er ladyship preferred ’er own people about ’er, ’n would I be so good as to leave the chocolate on the landing side table fer ’er to take in when ’er mistress be ready. I never saw the like afore, Miss Nell, ’n that’s God’s own truth, that is.”

  “Oh dear.” Nell regarded the chambermaid with dismay. Mary had been with the family quite as long as either Cook or Pavingham, which was to say since before Nell herself had joined the Lindale household. When Nell was old enough to make her come-out, it had been suggested that Mary might well serve as her tirewoman. But Mary herself had declined the honor, saying that she knew her place well enough, thank you, and Miss Nell deserved the best, which in Mary’s opinion meant a proper dresser. She had therefore greeted Madge’s arrival in the household with her fullest approval. But, whether she knew her place or not, she took full advantage—often—of the fact that she had known her mistress from the cradle, and Nell knew that if she was to have any peace at all, she must soothe Mary’s obviously ruffled feelings at once. “Was she rude to you, Mary?”

  “Not to say rude exactly, Miss Nell.” The maidservant was already coming down from the boughs. “She’s just a bit full of ’erself, is all. I’ll warrant ’er young lady spoils ’er a mite.”

  “Well, I shall speak to the Lady Aurora, if you like,” Nell said pacifically. “I daresay young Sadie has taken a bit more upon herself than her mistress has any notion of.” Her eyes twinkled suddenly. “’Twould doubtless serve her well and good if you were to allow her to do everything for her mistress.”

  Mary grinned, catching her meaning at once. “It would at that, Miss Nell. I daresay we’d soon ’ave that wench begging fer mercy if she was to find ’erself ’auling water and wood up them narrow back stairs. Laying fires, changing the bed … ah, ’tis a beautiful vision I’m enjoying just now, Miss Nell.”

  “I see that I can safely leave the problem in your capable hands, Mary. I rely upon you to see that she does not complain of ill treatment to her mistress, however. I’d as lief not have the business dropped back in my lap, if it is all the same to you.”

  Mary laid the chocolate tray gently across her mistress’s lap. “Never you fret, Miss Nell. I can deal with that baggage if anyone can. Just you leave ’er to me. Shall I be sending Madge up when I go downstairs?”

  “If you please,” Nell agreed. “Tell her I shall want her in twenty minutes. Until then, I mean to enjoy the peace and quiet. I daresay the time will come that I shall look back upon these unencumbered moments with great longing.”

  Mary rolled her eyes heavenward. “Like that, is it, miss?”

  “I’m afraid so, Mary. Indeed, I am very much afraid so.”

  Shaking her head in sympathy, Mary departed, leaving her mistress to relax against her pillows, savoring the sweet hot chocolate. What on earth, Nell wondered, watching steam rise from the cup in her hands, had she let herself in for? Any young woman who could mention Philip Radford in the same breath as a groom who would fail to bring an acceptable aura to her mama’s drawing room would bear watching. A good deal of watching.

  Not common soldiers, Aunt Nell, but there are officers as well, are there not?

  Nell shuddered at the encroaching memory, devoutly praying that Rory had indeed been speaking in jest. What lurking devil had spurred her to mention the Downs at all? Was it not only natural that the one word should lead an impressionable young girl’s thoughts directly to the military?

  After all, Brighton Camp was by far the most famous military encampment along the South Coast. For some ten years and more, parades, grand reviews, field days, and sham battles on the Downs had been part and parcel of each succeeding Season’s delights. The resident townspeople had come to regard them as entertainments got up expressly for their benefit, rather than for the serious purpose of military training, and they turned out right along with their summer visitors on these occasions in every sort of conveyance. Barouches, landaus, landaulets, sociables, curricles, tandems, and even fish carts—all were crammed with spectators and loaded with provisions for a merry day’s outing on the Downs. It was not
always possible, however, for these entertainments to be conducted with strictest military discipline and decorum. As the result of any number of unfortunate incidents over the years, Brighton fathers consistently discouraged their daughters from associating with the military.

  The Prince’s Own was indeed stationed on the Downs, just as Rory said, and that glorious Hussar regiment was easily the most popular in the Army among fashionable young men. Almost every one of the officers was a personal friend of the Prince of Wales, and even the famous Beau Brummell once numbered among them. They kept their own blood horses, their own swift curricles, and even—some said—their own dashing ladies. Their military duties being by no means arduous, they had plenty of time to join in the social activities of the beau monde, so nearly every young woman who came to Brighton dreamed of being escorted by a smart young cavalry officer in a dazzling scarlet or blue uniform. And since the assemblies at both the Castle Inn and the Old Ship were extremely popular with those young officers who were privileged to receive invitations, Nell had no doubt that her beautiful young niece expected to have her pick of the lot.

  An image of Lord Huntley suddenly flitted across her mind, and Nell drew a long breath. How on earth was she to guard his intended wife for him? For she had no doubt from what she remembered of him that he would expect her to do exactly that. It did not matter that Clarissa and Crossways undoubtedly expected the same thing. They had shirked their own duty by casting the office onto her inadequate shoulders. Let them reap what they had sown. But Huntley was a different case entirely. He had had little choice in the matter and must therefore place his dependence upon Nell. Of course, he would no doubt be willing to help her. The thought let her relax again. Surely, he could be depended upon to protect Rory from herself. It would be simply a question of keeping her well enough occupied so that she would have little time to get into mischief. Nell smiled at the thought that she had previously worried about the difficulty of finding suitable young men to interest her niece. Now she found herself hoping they would be in short supply.