‘Oh, it was not difficult,’ quipped Alyssa, ‘you are capable of that without my help.’
‘You are impertinent,’ Caroline replied, icily.
‘And you, Miss Nash, are graceless and arrogant,’ said Alyssa, smiling, her voice honey-sweet but her gaze hard. ‘Don’t ever malign my uncle’s memory again by calling him idiotic because you will regret it.’
Caroline swallowed. It seemed she could not, after all, intimidate through a few well-chosen comments. She had expected a stammering retreat – her verbal arrows were usually effective – but instead discovered Alyssa to be more than her equal. Her indignation grew, and a deep tinge of colour crept into her cheeks.
Alyssa continued, ‘I wish you a pleasant evening, Miss Nash – thank you for the delightful welcome.’
Gil, overhearing this comment, looked at Alyssa quizzically. She smiled and gave an infinitesimal nod before moving into the drawing-room.
Piers, having hurried back from London, stayed at The Antelope only long enough to change. When he arrived at the manor, he headed for the entrance with a jaunty step, eager to reach Letty and having missed her even more than he imagined. Only a few weeks earlier the delights of the capital would have given him no desire to rusticate again so promptly, but everything had changed. Wherever Letty was, Piers wanted to be also. So, he completed his business briskly and with more acumen than his shocked agent could comprehend. Gone was the languid, bored young buck who had no inclination to look at any documents and who threw bills one by one into the fire with a curse. In his place was a keen-eyed enquiring man, conscious of the delicacy of his financial position but willing to take uncomfortable decisions to find a way out of his maze of debt. After a two-hour meeting, an agreement was at last reached which met with Piers’s satisfaction. Two paintings and a clock were to be sold from his property in Lincolnshire to address the most pressing bills. A partial mortgage would also be raised to fund repairs and future investment, and to leave some ready capital. Piers felt satisfied it was the best that could be contrived for now.
He would, at least, be left with a little money in hand; it was not much but he’d be damned if he would offer marriage to Letty with an empty purse. If she would have him as a husband one day, he wanted to buy her a trousseau of bride clothes and jewellery that befitted her beauty.
Relatively pleased with his achievements, he sauntered in, looking forward to telling Letty, but first he had to deal with the squire who threatened to keep him talking for half the evening when he discovered Piers was of a sporting turn of mind, and then Miss Nash, whose arrogance he deplored. It was, therefore, some time before he could search the crowded rooms for Letty.
He soon found her. She was in the large room at the back of the house where the musicians were playing and the furniture had been moved aside to allow for dancing. She was besieged by a group of young men, James Westwood, his host in Dorset, among them, all eagerly trying to secure a dance. Piers, instantly of the mind to ask James what the deuce he was about, soon realized he was not his only obstacle and watched with chagrin as a fellow with Byronic good looks led Letty out to take their place in the set. His heart sank as his eyes followed her; she was unaware of his presence and smiling up at her partner.
She looked exquisite – a fairie queen in a shimmering ivory gown – and for the first time he grasped how little he had to offer. No great estate, no fortune, no grand London townhouse – only a rather decrepit property saddled with a mortgage and a sheaf of unpaid bills. Poor fare indeed to place before this lovely creature. Letty did not possess a large dowry, or a title, but with her face, figure and disposition, Piers knew she could hope to make an excellent marriage to a man of means. Already she was the centre of attention for the young men here and jealousy writhed in his breast. A voice nearby woke him from his uncomfortable reverie.
‘Piers! You have arrived back in time – good.’
‘Hello, Alyssa,’ he said, summoning up the ghost of a smile. ‘I rushed back in the hope of engaging Letty for a dance, but’ – his gaze drifted back to Letty and her Adonis-like partner – ‘it seems my luck is out, and there’s a crowd in line before me,’ he concluded, with a gloomy nod towards her admiring swains.
Alyssa chuckled. ‘Don’t be so poor-spirited! Have you asked her yet?’
‘No – she’s not even aware I’m here.’
‘I know she’s been looking for you.’
‘Has she?’ he asked, longing in his voice as he watched his amour. He turned back to his cousin, his expression brighter. ‘Then she missed me a little while I have been away?’
‘That you must discover yourself, but I believe something has prevented her from completely enjoying this evening, despite what you see. How did your business in London go?’
‘Well enough,’ admitted Piers. ‘I went a fair way to disentangling my affairs, but it’s such a damnable mess, there is no hope of solving matters overnight. However, there is potential in my estate I had never bothered to look for until now and eventually, it could become profitable.’ Glancing again at Letty, he murmured, ‘I am determined to make it so.’
‘I have confidence in you.’
‘I only hope Letty does.’ Turning to study her, Piers murmured, ‘My compliments on your appearance, dear Coz – I’ve never seen you looking lovelier. The Dorset air and absence from Charles’s cloying company obviously agrees with you. Little wonder you and Letty are the most sought-after ladies here, and’ – he added, scrutinizing her attire with a critical and expert eye – ‘the best dressed.’
‘We have been urged to divulge the genius behind our gowns, which is diverting as we made them ourselves,’ said Alyssa, laughing.
‘Did you? Well, my compliments again – the most exclusive modiste could not have bettered your efforts.’
Piers saw Sir Giles moving towards them through the surrounding crush. He had caught sight of him earlier, both before and during his conversation with his cousin, and noted that Giles, while not obviously in Alyssa’s company, hovered nearby, glancing often in her direction and never moving completely out of sight. Add to this Miss Nash making no attempt to speak to or acknowledge Sir Giles, and Piers began to think something was very odd.
Gil greeted Piers courteously and asked for the news from London, but it was the brief look he exchanged with Alyssa which made Piers start in surprise. The scales fell from his eyes; even to the most insensitive blockhead, there was no doubting the sentiments in that glance, or that they were reciprocated by his cousin.
So that’s the way of things, Piers thought, controlling the urge to whistle softly in amazement. He did not refer to what he had witnessed – it was none of his business until they chose to tell him, after all – but when his initial surprise ebbed away, he felt pleased. Alyssa deserved better than that dull dog Charles, and Piers had liked the cut of Sir Giles’s jib at their first meeting, his good opinion reinforced by Gil’s actions during Alyssa’s illness.
It said much for Piers’s rapidly increasing maturity that he remained silent and felt only fleeting jealousy. If his cousin married Sir Giles Maxton, her wealth would increase, but his main regret was that Alyssa’s future seemed shortly to be settled while his aspiration to share Letty’s remained uncertain.
Guilt suddenly assailed him: he needed to make a clean breast of the business with Draper to Alyssa soon.
With this in mind, he said, ‘By the way, Coz, I must speak to you on an important matter. Would tomorrow be convenient?’
‘The following day would be preferable. I shan’t reach my bed until three or four in the morning, and Gil and I have our usual dinner arranged. Can it wait until Sunday?’
He nodded. ‘Shall I call then?’
Alyssa replied in the affirmative, adding, ‘I may have some news for you, too.’
Gil’s fleeting grin was not lost on Piers, but he only chuckled and said, ‘Secrets eh, Coz? Lord, we’re all guilty of harbouring secrets – good and bad!’ Eager to change the subject, he s
aw Caroline and commented, ‘This event must have cost her father a pretty penny yet Miss Nash looks as sour as a lemon. There’s no pleasing that lady.’
‘Miss Nash is ill-tempered this evening,’ murmured Alyssa.
‘Has she been discourteous?’ said Gil, quickly.
‘Nothing to concern me.’
Gil, who was not sanguine that Caroline intended to let the evening pass without incident, said, ‘If her expression is any measure, she is anxious to vent her spleen before long.’
‘I wonder what can have put her in an ugly mood?’ mused Piers, with commendable nonchalance. ‘Whatever it is, she’ll frighten away prospective dance partners if she does not smile more. How strange Mrs Nash is nowhere to be seen yet, but I approve of the squire: he seems a congenial man, a touch vague perhaps, but that’s only to be expected when you consider the distaff side of his household.’
Their conversation was interrupted by the flutter of applause when the music stopped. As Gil began to murmur the names of the formidable array of dowagers lined up against the far wall into Alyssa’s ear, Piers watched Letty.
Having thanked her partner and laughingly declared to her other admirers that she needed to rest, her gaze scanned the room and met his. His heart leapt at the brief but unmistakable spark of pleasure he saw when she registered his presence and it took all his self-control not to push his way across the room, and take her into his arms.
She came to him, the fabric of her dress and her expressive eyes sparkling in the candlelight. ‘Piers!’ she cried, putting out both hands in greeting, ‘It is good to see you—’ She seemed to recollect herself, and added in a muted voice, ‘That is, I hope your business was successful.’
He smiled, swept her fingers into his firm grasp and kissed them. ‘No, don’t change it – I much prefer your first response. You look beautiful, and I’m not surprised to see you have a crowd of admirers. Pray tell me,’ he asked, through suddenly clenched teeth, ‘who was that simpering Adonis dancing with you?’
‘Simpering Adonis…?’ began Letty, puzzled. ‘Oh, you mean Lord Wentworth. He is down from Hertfordshire.’
‘He was paying you an excessive amount of attention, damn him!’
‘Lord Wentworth has a pleasant manner.’
‘Hmph! Well, I’d be happier if he took himself and his pleasant manner back to Hertfordshire, and stayed well away from you.’
Her eyes twinkled up at him, full of laughter. ‘I was only dancing with him, Piers.’
‘Well, I might forgive you if you promise to dance with me – at least twice – and while we do, I’ll tell you about my trip to London.’
But before they could join the set for the next dance, the doorway from the hall opened and Mrs Nash entered.
Her appearance lulled the hum of conversation almost to silence. She was wearing a deep pink gown and a matching pink silk turban decorated with five enormous ostrich feathers, standing vertically to attention from a jewelled aigrette at the front of this confection. While Mrs Nash’s entrance was spectacular, it was hardly graceful; she had given little thought to the practicalities of a headdress that would not have disgraced an Indian maharajah with a vast palace and huge doorways at his disposal. It was definitely not designed for the low doorways and the sad crush of guests at the manor.
The combined height of turban and feathers forced her to bend her knees and turn sideways to complete her crab-like manoeuvre into the room with no damage to the millinery disaster adorning her head. Her neck and shoulders were held in a curiously stiff way, as if she had spent all morning exposed to a howling nor’-westerly and was suffering the after effects. She did not look at all comfortable but a smile was pasted determinedly on her face.
Piers’s jaw fell open on its hinge at this vision, but he quickly recovered as she headed towards him like a trireme. ‘My dear Mrs Nash, you look’ – he cleared his throat as he sought desperately for a suitable adjective – ‘astonishing!’
‘I thought you would say so – it is but a trifling effort,’ she replied, modestly. His reaction pleased her; a woman of less restraint would have jumped for joy to receive praise from a man who knew that doyenne of the fashionable set, Lady Jersey. But since jumping for joy would also require some movement of the head, such a display was impossible. She therefore contented herself with a smug smile and carefully turned her head an inch to murmur a greeting to Letty, her movements resembling an owl suffering from rigor of the neck muscles.
‘Truly astonishing, upon my word,’ breathed Piers, in an awed whisper.
‘I see you are almost lost for words, Mr Kilworth. Bang up to the knocker, was the expression you used, was it not?’
‘Lord, yes! Complete to a shade, dear lady!’
‘Thank you. However, keeping this upon one’s head is difficult and I daresay I shall be unable to move tomorrow for the pain.’
‘But think of the impression you have made! Your guests will talk of nothing but the sight of you wearing those ostrich feathers for months.’
‘Did you know Mrs Bailey was also rendered speechless when she saw me? Of course,’ she added in a prim voice, ‘she was envious.’
‘Most likely,’ agreed Piers innocently. ‘Not everyone can wear feathers with such aplomb.’
‘No. Sadly, she does not possess the necessary poise.’
‘Quite so, dear lady – or the necessary stamina,’ he said, noting Letty struggling to stifle a giggle as Mrs Nash tried to incline her head in acknowledgement. ‘At the first opportunity, I will describe your attire to Lady Jersey,’ he added.
‘You will?’ gasped Mrs Nash, her headdress quivering with her excitement. ‘Ah, you are too kind! I hope she will enjoy hearing of my efforts to follow the latest fashion – Caroline and I do our utmost not to appear provincial. Well, I must circulate, but I should congratulate you on your gown, Miss Ravenhill. Such delicate work! Such exquisite design! Send me the name of your dressmaker and I shall favour her with some commissions.’
She walked away, holding her head rigidly still, to speak to Alyssa and then Sir Giles; Mrs Nash was every inch the gracious, if uncomfortable, hostess.
It was after supper that Alyssa became aware that some guests, particularly ladies, were whispering. She thought she had imagined that their attention was directed solely at her, but eventually admitted that, for whatever reason, she had become the topic of conversation. Murmurings behind cupped hands and disapproving looks became commonplace and, try as she might to ignore them, Alyssa felt like a newly discovered unpalatable species.
Had she committed any social faux pas? She could think of none: she had danced with those gentlemen she needed to according to etiquette, smiled at and made small talk with the dowagers, and had not confused her wine and water glasses at supper. It was unlikely to be connected with Gil as they had limited their time together.
Yet all eyes were now upon her. Overhearing a snigger as she walked by a group of ladies, Alyssa lifted her chin but began to feel hunted. In need of reassurance, she looked for Gil but there was no sign of him. Only Piers and Letty were close by, and it was Letty who spoke first.
‘Lyssa, I was coming to talk to you,’ she said, looking concerned.
‘And I you: I suddenly seem to be the subject of everyone’s attention.’
Letty glanced at Piers, then back to Alyssa. ‘Piers and I had noticed.’
‘I don’t understand why,’ said Alyssa, with a shrug and a wry smile. ‘I remembered my manners and even laughed at Mr Pendlebury’s appalling jokes. It’s disagreeable, try as I might to ignore it. I wonder if Gil is aware what sin I have committed.’
Piers murmured, ‘I know, Coz. Mere tomfoolery, of course, but unpleasant all the same. I wanted to land a facer on the fellow who repeated it to me, damn him!’
‘Tell me what I am accused of, Piers.’ When he hesitated, Alyssa demanded urgently, ‘What is it?’
Piers gave a sigh of resignation, ‘Your supposed adventures as Mr Esidarap have become general know
ledge and, as is usually the way, the story has not only spread quickly but grown more outrageous with each telling. To the ladies present, you are now renowned for masquerading as the most profligate rake ever to grace London and consequently, unsuitable for this genteel gathering. It has had a different effect on the gentlemen: most of them think you a regular out-and-outer, and up to every game, although some are—’ He stopped and then added, ‘Well, I will only say that the fellow who told me was lucky to escape a punch in the bone box. I didn’t like his tone or the way he referred to you, Coz.’
The colour drained from her cheeks. ‘Good God! B-but how can this be? I never intended – it was only said as a joke! Few people knew that Banbury tale; Letty and Gil would never speak of it in company and the only others were Mrs Nash and her daughter….’ Her voice trailed away and she raised her eyes to Piers in dismay.
‘Think you’ve hit the nail on the head,’ he said, in a sombre voice. ‘Miss Nash has been letting her tongue run away with her, and to my mind, deliberately.’
‘The spiteful miss knew exactly what she was doing,’ declared Letty.
‘She spoke of exacting revenge, but I did not imagine she would do this.’ said Alyssa. ‘My reputation will be ruined if that ridiculous tale becomes generally known – and she knows it.’
‘Hmm … things do look a mite sticky, Coz.’
‘I must confront her.’
‘No, don’t do that. Not wise,’ said Piers, shaking his head vehemently.
‘I am not afraid of Miss Nash!’
‘No, dash it, of course not! Just not the thing to make a scene, that’s all. Lord, you might look guilty if you march up to that hellcat and start accusing her in public. Most likely that’s exactly what she wants you to do. She’s been damned subtle and you need to think how to respond.’
The Paradise Will Page 21
