An Affair of Honor

by Amanda Scott

  She said nothing to indicate that she had noticed anything out of the way, and the major politely excused himself, saying that he must find his next partner. Rory was silent, cheering up only when her own partner came to claim her hand for the minuet. Nell was engaged to dance it with Mr. MacElroy, who strolled up but a moment later, apologizing for keeping her waiting.

  “’Twas this demmed lace,” he moaned, showing her the delicate edging of his cuff. “M’ last partner had a demmed bracelet, kept catching in it. Beg pardon, Miss Lindale, but knew you’d understand.”

  Nell grinned at him and assured him that she had not been waiting long. There was scarcely a dance after that for which her hand was not engaged, and by the time Huntley informed her that he had called for his carriage, her feet hurt and she was beginning to yearn for her bed. Rory had been enjoying herself hugely, however, so she had disliked suggesting departure before. She had not seen hide nor hair of the major and could only be thankful that her niece was enjoying herself without flirting any further with him.

  Rory agreed quickly when Nell told her that Huntley was ready to depart. She smiled at friends as they passed and retained her gay attitude until they were actually inside the carriage, when she slumped back against the squabs and went silent. The coachman gave his horses the office, and the carriage lurched forward.

  “Rory, dear,” Nell said after a silent moment or two, “do you feel quite the thing?”

  “I expect I’m just tired, Aunt Nell,” the girl said quietly. “It was a very nice evening.”

  “’Tis no wonder if you’re tired,” Huntley murmured. “’Twould be even more wonderful if there is a scrap of leather left to the soles of your slippers. You must have stood up for every dance.”

  “Yes, I think I did,” Rory answered politely. But then her voice changed oddly. “At least, nearly every one.”

  In the light from the carriage lamps Nell could see an expression of unhappiness flit across the younger girl’s face. She wanted to ask her about it, but decided the timing was not good. Better to wait until they were alone. Instead, she drew Huntley into conversation with herself, letting Rory have a semblance of privacy for her own thoughts. He responded easily enough, and they discussed the various gentlemen who had followed his lead in asking Nell to dance, laughing together over MacElroy’s snagged lace.

  Pavingham was waiting to admit them to the house, and Huntley stepped inside to bid them good night. Rory was still silent, but Nell thanked him warmly for escorting them, and he turned to take his leave.

  “My lord, wait.” Rory’s words were spoken low, but he heard them and turned back, an expression of polite inquiry on his face. Nell stared at her niece, then realized Rory was looking with some misgiving at Pavingham, who lingered in the hall waiting to put out the candles behind them.

  “Shall we go into the saloon?” Nell asked, looking directly at her niece.

  “Oh, no—that is …” She glanced at Pavingham again. “Oh, very well, perhaps it would be better.”

  “Tea, Miss Nell?”

  “No, thank you, Pavingham. His lordship will be leaving directly. Perhaps, however, you will inform Madge and her ladyship’s Sadie that we are returned.”

  With Pavingham satisfactorily disposed of, she turned her attention to Rory again, drawing her gently into the green saloon and waiting until Huntley had shut the door behind them. Then another thought occurred to her.

  “Do you wish to be private with his lordship, my dear? I shall go upstairs if you like.” She glanced at Huntley, who looked only puzzled.

  “No.” Rory nearly clutched at her arm. “I want to speak to both of you. I-I behaved badly this afternoon, and I must make you both m-my profoundest apologies. I-I didn’t know what would happen. Please believe me. But I made such a figure of myself, and I know that you, at least, my lord, were prodigiously angry with me. And, Aunt Nell, you have been so kind to me. To serve you such a trick when you trusted me …” She broke off, looking perilously near to tears, and Nell stepped quickly forward to place a reassuring arm around her shoulders.

  “There, there, dear heart,” she said quietly. “’Twas nothing that cannot be mended. Even his lordship has said so.” She glanced beseechingly at him, astonished to see amusement flickering in his eyes. But he responded quickly enough.

  “Indeed, Aurora, you have not ruined yourself or anyone else,” he said lightly. “You behaved badly, but I daresay you will have learned a valuable lesson from it all and will never do such a foolish thing again.”

  Rory stiffened but recollected herself immediately and murmured something about how good he was to see the matter in such a light. Then she turned to Nell.

  “Will you excuse me, ma’am? I-I find I can scarcely keep my eyes open.”

  Nell nodded. “Of course, dear. I shall come with you. Good night, my lord.”

  “One moment, if you please, Miss Lindale. Aurora will not mind if I detain you for a moment or two. Good night, Aurora.”

  Rory didn’t hesitate to leave them, and Nell turned back to Huntley the moment the door had shut behind her. “Well, sir, I scarcely like to think what Pavingham will think if he returns to find us closeted together like this.”

  “Worried about your reputation, Nell?”

  She twinkled up at him. “No, my lord, about yours. I am a respectable spinster lady, you know. ’Tis your credit that would suffer were my servants to think you were trifling with me.”

  He chuckled appreciatively. “I had hoped for praise from you for my deft handling of that little situation.”

  “Praise, sir?”

  “Indeed. I followed your orders, I think, by saying nothing more about the business. However, I did not notice that she was particularly appreciative to be let off easily. Did you say something to her earlier that led to that affecting little scene?”

  “No, indeed I did not,” Nell replied, wrinkling her brow as she thought back over the evening behind them. In her mind’s eye she saw a picture of Rory returning to her side upon Major Talcott’s arm and, remembering their expressions, had no difficulty determining the fact that he was responsible for the apology they had just received. She glanced uncertainly at his lordship. “I-I daresay she simply decided that an apology was in order.”

  “Just as I expected,” he pointed out. “Told you so from the outset. Aurora is not completely thoughtless, merely a bit spoiled. I daresay the incident has been preying upon her mind since this afternoon, and it just spilled over once we were all together and could be private.”

  “Perhaps you are right, sir,” Nell returned, keeping her thoughts to herself. “And it was kind of you not to scold, when I know you must have been longing to do so.”

  “Nothing of the sort,” he retorted. “Your brother is the only one I’ve got harsh words for now. Aurora, though she ought to have known better than to drink the stuff, had no means of knowing what would happen to her. But he knew perfectly well and deserves to be soundly thrashed.”

  “You …”

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll give the lad a rare dressing, but nothing more. That much I can promise you. I am not given to violence, my dear.”

  Nell was nearly as certain as she could be that the business had not been entirely Kit’s doing, nor that of his friends. But she could imagine no good to be gotten out of arguing the point with Huntley just now. Besides, Kit could take care of himself, and one of Huntley’s thundering scolds would do him no harm, so without further discussion, she bade his lordship good night and took herself up to her niece’s bedchamber.

  Upon being told she might enter, Nell pushed open the door to discover the Lady Aurora wrapped in a fluffy confection of ribbons and lace and seated at her dressing table, while Sadie meticulously brushed out the long, golden tresses.

  “What a very fetching night dress, my dear,” Nell said, reaching out her hand to take the brush from the maid. “Here, Sadie, I’ll do that. I wish to speak privately with her ladyship.”

  �
�But, I always see my lady to bed, miss.”

  Nell caught Rory’s eye in the looking glass.

  “You may go, Sadie,” the girl said quietly.

  Accepting the silver brush from the maid’s reluctant hand, Nell applied it rhythmically to the silky golden curls. “Thank you, dearest. I thought we should have a little talk.”

  “Are you still vexed with me, Aunt Nell?” Rory looked a trifle anxious as she waited for the response.

  “Not vexed, precisely,” Nell replied, “but I am disturbed and think we should perhaps discuss the matter.”

  “Well, I think everyone is making a great piece of work about nothing,” said Rory sulkily. She began toying with the hairpins on the dressing table before her, absently making patterns with them, then she glanced up again, catching Nell’s eye in the mirror. “Was it truly awful? I don’t care about Huntley’s opinion. He’s always stuffy. But Gid—But you,” she corrected herself quickly, “are not. So if I truly vexed you, I am sorry for it. However, I have already apologized, so I cannot think why we must discuss the matter any further.”

  “Rory, you know perfectly well that you behaved very badly, and that there is still a good deal that ought to be said. Why, if Mama knew anything about it, she would very likely suffer one of her spasms, so we are fortunate that no one happened to be there who knows you are her granddaughter. I assure you, if she were to hear of it, it would distress her very much.” She paused to see what, if any, effect her words were having. Rory bit her lip, which Nell took to be a good sign. She went on gently. “Huntley believes you had no notion how the spirits would affect you. Is he correct in that belief?” The young girl’s gaze shifted back to the hairpins, and the color in her cheeks deepened by at least two shades. “I thought as much,” Nell said. “You are too intelligent, my dear, not to have guessed how it would be. What did you drink?”

  “Two very small glasses of champagne,” Rory answered readily. “Mr. Seton’s sister and her husband were partaking of a bottle when we arrived and offered some to us. I did not think it would matter if I had a little.”

  “And the gin? Where did you come by that, Rory?”

  Rory tried to look innocent but failed entirely and turned her eyes away again when Nell merely returned the look with one of patience. “Mr. Seton had a flask in his coat pocket. I only had a bit—maybe three or four swallows. The first burned, you know. It was much worse than the champagne. That only tickled my nose. But Kit and Harry said to try again—that’s when I choked, which they found vastly humorous. They said the second and third swallows would go down much more easily. And they were right. I thought it very peculiar that the first would be like swallowing fire and the others so much softer. Why do you suppose that is?”

  “I have not the slightest notion,” Nell replied, trying to retain her stern attitude and finding it difficult because her sense of the ridiculous was stirring. “Rory, I know you were only curious, but you did know that it was foolish to drink such stuff.”

  “You sound like Huntley.”

  “He was very much annoyed. You are lucky to have escaped his displeasure so lightly, my dear.”

  “I did expect him to bellow a bit more tonight,” Rory confessed. “But I don’t think he really cared much. It would have been different if I had made a scandal, of course.”

  “How can you say that when you know he is to be your husband?” Nell demanded. “Of course he cares. He lost his temper earlier because he cares, and tonight he was gentle because of his belief that you had no clear understanding of how the stuff would affect you.”

  “Do you truly think him such a slowtop as all that, ma’am?”

  The question caught Nell off guard. She blinked, the brush hovering in midair. “A slowtop? What a thing to say, Rory. Of course he is no slowtop. I think his understanding is superior.”

  “Well, so do I,” Rory replied flatly. “So, how can you think he believed such stuff? Moreover, when he bellowed at me, he said nothing about my innocence. He was angry that I had made a spectacle of myself, that I had perhaps endangered my reputation, but it was not he, after all, who pointed out that I might have done myself an injury if I had been so unfortunate as to fall off that stupid wall.”

  “I collect, then,” Nell said dryly, “that Major Talcott did point out that fact.”

  “Yes, he did.” Rory sounded nearly defiant, and her look as much as dared Nell to make something of it.

  Nell smiled. “I’m glad he did. And that you seem to have had the good sense to believe him. Do you think you would have believed Huntley if he had said as much to you?”

  The shrug that was her sole reply told Nell her thrust had gone home. But what good it had done she was at a loss to discover, and she could scarcely credit herself with having brought Rory to a clearer understanding of the impropriety of her behavior on the esplanade. If anyone had done that, the credit must go to Major Talcott. From what Nell could read in Rory’s expression now, and despite any thoughts Huntley might have expressed to the contrary, the fact that the major had been displeased to hear of her of her antics was the only thing that had been preying upon her mind when she had made her apologies earlier.

  Therefore, when Nell took herself off to her own bedchamber, it was not to sleep but to lie in bed with a good many thoughts for company. Chief among these was a growing belief that her niece was too young altogether to be thinking about marriage. Particularly marriage to such a man as Huntley. He had already suggested that he found her tiresome. She certainly resented his slightest interference in her life, while something in her very nature seemed to stir his exasperation. And, clearly, something in his stirred her to anger, bitterness, and yet more childish behavior. If he were unwise enough to take her to task over some issue or other, she rebelled or sulked. Yet, Major Talcott had only to express displeasure and to look stern, and she was offering apologies to everyone. Nell had the oddest notion that Huntley might have demanded an apology till doomsday without getting one.

  She turned that thought over once or twice, examining it more closely. It seemed to underscore the fact that Rory was not yet ready for marriage. Perhaps the thing to do was to discuss the fact of her youth with Rory herself. Surely, if she could be brought to see that it would behoove her to wait a year or two, it would be a simple matter to convince Crossways and Clarissa. Well, Nell amended silently, perhaps not Clarissa. She would no doubt be longing to get her daughter firmly wed to someone of solid means, and Huntley was ideal for her purpose. But even so, if Rory herself balked at the notion, Clarissa would at least hesitate. And Crossways, besotted as he had always shown himself to be over his beloved eldest daughter, would not think twice about calling off a wedding that was not to her liking. Then Huntley might look about for another suitable choice. It was clear enough to one who knew him that he had already begun to entertain second thoughts about the wisdom of marrying someone as young as Rory.

  Nell had no doubt that much of the blame for their difficulties rested in the disparity between their ages. No doubt Rory compared him to her father, from whom she was unused to encountering any restraint, and consequently she resented Huntley’s efforts to curb her more outrageous starts. Major Talcott, on the other hand, was several years younger than Huntley. The fact that Rory responded when he chose to lay a hand to the rein was, Nell told herself, merely an indication that she tended to respond more positively to reproval from gentlemen nearer her in age.

  XI

  NELL’S THEORIES SUFFERED SOMETHING of a setback the following morning when she entered the breakfast parlor to discover her brother and her niece engaged in a spirited and uncomplimentary exchange of personalities, while her mother watched them, her vinaigrette poised but forgotten as she tried to make head or tail of their debate.

  “What in the world is all this row!” Nell demanded when there was a pause long enough to allow her to make herself heard. All three persons at the table looked up at her in astonishment. Lady Agnes found her tongue first.

&nbs
p; “Do you know that Aurora was so foolish as to attempt to walk along the sea wall by the esplanade yesterday, Nell dear? Really, I cannot think you were wise to permit such a thing.”

  “Nell did not permit it, Mama,” Kit said indignantly. “Nor did I. ’Tis merely that this uncivil baggage here seems to think she can do as she damned—”

  “Kit! Your language! And at my breakfast table, too. You must not, dear boy. My nerves!” The vinaigrette was put instantly to use.

  “My apologies, Mama. Nell, will you please explain the matter to her, and tell this—this. …”

  “That is quite enough, Kit,” Nell said, firmly stifling a chuckle. “Mama, there is nothing to explain. Rory did a foolish thing, and the matter has already been discussed. There is no need to pull caps over it any more. As for you, Kit, I wonder that you will have introduced such a topic to Mama’s breakfast table, for the incident certainly brings little credit to you.” He looked away, and she went on more gently, “I hope you remember that Lord Huntley wishes to speak with you this morning. It would be as well for you, I think, if you do not keep him waiting.”

  “What! Does he expect me to call upon him at his house?” Kit tugged at his neckcloth, a good deal taken aback by the suggestion.

  “I think he would have more respect for you if you were to go to him rather than wait for him to come to you. You would not wish him to think you poor spirited.”