by Amanda Scott
“Oh,” wailed the duchess, “your father will be so angry, and you may depend upon it that he will lay all the blame for this imbroglio at my door. He always does. And I don’t even have your name on my new visiting cards, Alicia, so he cannot think I meant for you to do such a dreadful thing. Only Arabella’s name is there, for Brittany has her own cards this year as an engaged lady, and I was so grateful, for two names below my own, you know, will make the cards seem quite littered with engraving.”
Brittany moved to stand beside her. “I think you are very tired, ma’am, and ought to go upstairs. There is no cause to worry about your visiting cards just now, and in the morning things will look much brighter.”
“Why, how can you say so, dear, when morning will bring your papa down upon us all? And visiting cards are of vast importance, for without them one would actually have to visit with people one does not wish to visit instead of merely leaving cards on them. If he does allow Alicia to go about in society—and indeed, I do not see how he can stop her now without creating the most appalling scandal—I shall have to have Mr. Mitchell make new cards for me at once.”
With much coaxing, and assisted by Arabella, Brittany at last persuaded their afflicted parent to retire to her bedchamber. Nothing, however, could persuade Alicia to stay up to await her papa’s return, so with a few choice words of censure, Brittany ordered her off to bed as well, promising faithfully that if Alicia did not confess her sins first thing in the morning, Brittany would do so for her.
“I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear such a threat from Bella, but I never took you for a telltale,” was Alicia’s parting shot as she left her elder sisters on the second-floor landing.
Arabella watched until Alicia flounced into her bedchamber, then turned to Brittany, laying a sympathetic hand upon her arm. “’Tis your duty to tell Papa if she does not, of course, but I know how much against your nature following such a course would be. Do you want me to speak to her in the morning?”
Brittany smiled. “I do not think that will be necessary, Bella. I certainly have no wish to speak to Papa on such a subject as this, but Lissa knows that having said I will do a thing, I will do it. And when all is said and done, she is no coward. She will do what she must. Don’t bother your head about it. At least, he cannot blame you, so you need think of nothing but your triumph at Almack’s. You danced every dance. I saw you.”
Arabella grinned. “I did, didn’t I? And Toby Welshpool called me a diamond of the first water. High praise from such a source as that, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Indeed, I would. He is very difficult to please. All the matchmaking mamas have long since despaired of ensnaring him in their nets.”
“Well, I do not wish to ensnare anyone at all,” Arabella said. “I thought most of the gentlemen I met tonight were charming, but I could not help but remember Cicely’s complaints when she made her comeout, for I never before felt so much a duke’s daughter. Do you not constantly wonder who likes you for yourself alone, Tani?”
“Why, to be sure I do, but I do not fret over it.”
“No, of course not. You have Faringdon.”
“Yes,” Brittany said quietly, but the image that sprang to her mind’s eye was not that of the impudent earl. Instead, it was a harsher face, a face that seemed to bear a perpetual frown. Shaking her head as though by doing so she might banish the vision, she smiled bracingly at her sister. “You must take yourself off to bed, Bella. I daresay it is after two in the morning and we have quite a day before us tomorrow, I fear.”
Arabella shuddered dramatically. “I believe I shall sleep late,” she said. “Very, very late.”
Brittany chuckled, but upon rising the following morning, she could not imagine how, even for that brief moment, she might have seen the slightest humor in the situation. Thus it was with near trepidation that she entered the breakfast parlor not long after ten o’clock, and any hope she might have had that her father had already broken his fast and departed the premises died as she entered the cheerful blue-and-white room to find him sitting in solitary splendor at the head of the long oval table, his bushy gray eyebrows twitching as he scowled at the plate set before him on the gleaming board.
He looked up at her entrance, but the scowl remained firmly in place. “Ought to have been down twenty minutes ago,” he grumbled. “Where the devil are your sisters?”
Disconcerted to find him alone, Brittany hesitated, then said hastily, “I cannot say where Amalie is, Papa—”
“In the schoolroom, where she belongs, of course,” he barked. “Don’t play nip-and-tuck with me, my girl, for I won’t stand it. I, have already seen your mother, and I daresay she will not wish to show her face abroad for several hours yet—”
“Oh, Papa, you did not scold her! Pray say you did not.”
“Scold her? What a thing to say. Of course I did not scold her for allowing our daughter to make a May game of the dictates of society. I merely pointed out to her that I had wished Alicia to remain a schoolgirl one year longer and that I am accustomed to having my wishes obeyed.” He glared up at her, then waved at a nearby chair. “Sit down, girl, sit down. Here, you, William, serve her ladyship.”
Color flooded Brittany’s cheeks as she realized the young footman had been standing near the dresser awaiting her father’s pleasure. Lowering her eyes, she moved quickly to seat herself as he held her chair. “Just tea and toast, William, if you please,” she murmured.
“Nonsense, bring her some of that porridge and a plate of sliced beef,” ordered the duke.
“Papa, really, I could not.”
“Well, have an egg then. You’ll need to keep up your strength now the Season has begun.”
She knew he was right, so she nodded, and William brought her a rack of toast to be getting on with while he arranged for an egg to be boiled for her. Once he had gone, her courage returned, and she faced her father. “I believe Bella is still sleeping, sir, for she said she meant to sleep late, but I do not know where Alicia is.”
“Tell me this,” the duke commanded grimly. “Did you know what the chit was about from the outset, or did you not?”
Brittany was very glad she could look him in the eye. “No, sir, I did not.”
He grimaced. “Well, you ought to have done, of course, but I won’t ask you to relate the details. Alicia shall have that pleasure all to herself.”
Brittany felt a sliver of ice slide down her spine. She swallowed carefully and decided a change of subject was definitely in order. “Do you know the Marquess of Cheriton, Papa?”
His silvery eyes narrowed speculatively. “Cheriton? Aye. Thought he was dead, but then the man’s always been unreliable. What do you know of him, my girl? Not the sort you ought to have dealings with.”
“He is dead. That is to say,” she corrected herself, “it must be the eleventh marquess whom you knew. I was speaking of his son, who was styled Earl of Inglesham before his father’s death. Perhaps you knew him then. He is a friend of Faringdon’s, also of Ravenwood’s, I believe.”
“Can’t say the lad ever crossed my path, but I’ll tell you this, miss: if he’s a branch off the same tree, you’d do well to keep away from him. You’ll have your plate full as it is keeping Faringdon up to the mark without allowing him to associate with men of Cheriton’s ilk.”
Brittany smiled. “Do you think I shall have to keep watch over Lord Faringdon, sir? I thought you trusted him to look after me, not the other way about.”
Malmesbury shrugged. “I never pretended to believe the man had all his wits about him, girl. But you’ve a level head on your shoulders, I think, so between you, you and Ravenwood will keep him in line.” His scowl deepened. “Speaking of Ravenwood, your mother tells me she hasn’t had so much as the briefest note from your sister in more than a week. She fears there must be some difficulty.”
Knowing he wouldn’t thank her for referring directly to her sister’s delicate condition, Brittany merely assured him that no news was generally
good news. “I am persuaded Ravenwood would send word immediately if anything untoward were to occur, sir.”
“No doubt,” the duke grunted. He scraped his chair back just as the young footman entered carrying Brittany’s boiled egg. The young man set it down quickly and moved to assist his master, whereupon the scowl turned toward him. “William, you will go at once to inform the Lady Alicia’s maidservant that I will see her ladyship in my bookroom in ten minutes precisely.” Malmesbury strode from the room.
The footman exchanged a startled look with Brittany, then said, “Best I go at once, ma’am, but I’ll send a maidservant to look after you.”
“There is no need, William,” she said, pushing her own chair back. “This room is unfortunately just above the library. Indeed, big as this house is, every room is too close to the library, so on your way upstairs, pray order the landaulette to be brought ’round in no more than nine minutes. I have a deal of shopping to do.”
The footman grinned at her. “Aye, m’lady, though you may have to meet the carriage halfway. Even if young Peter runs ’round to the stables at his fastest pace, I think nine minutes might be cutting it fine.”
“Then have him run for a hackney coach instead,” said Brittany with a rueful grin.
“It would be as much as my place is worth, and well you know it, ma’am. I’ll tell them to light a fire under the stableboys, howsomever. Best I go, though, or the Lady Alicia will be late for her appointment.”
“She’ll never manage to dress in ten minutes,” said Brittany with a sigh. “Nor will she wish to hurry. Being late for her interview will scarcely make it worse than it will be if she is on time. However, I will speak to her maid. Just you see to my carriage.”
William held her chair, then followed her from the room. Brittany hurried up the stairs at once, hesitated briefly on the second-floor landing, then walked to her sister’s bedchamber and quietly opened the door. Her sister’s maid was at the window, just reaching to draw back the curtains.
“Hssst, Margaret, I want you,” she hissed.
The maid stepped swiftly across the room, glancing briefly at her young mistress, curled into a tight knot under the eiderdown. “What is it, m’lady?” she whispered when she reached the door.
“I don’t know why I whisper,” Brittany said in her natural voice. “You must waken the Lady Alicia at once. His grace wishes to speak with her in his bookroom in ten minutes’ time. It would behoove her to hasten.”
“Ach, I knew it,” said the maidservant, wringing her hands. “She’s for it now, t’ poor lamb. She feared she would ’ave to tell ’im ’erself, ’owever, and now she won’t be a-needin’ to. She’ll be glad o’ that, I’m thinkin’.”
“Well, don’t stand here discussing it with me,” said Brittany sharply. “That he has heard the tale from someone at White’s will do her no good, and if your concern means you knew what she was about all along, it will do you no good either, Margaret. You will be lucky not to lose your place if my father learns that you knew what she intended and did nothing to stop her.”
“And what might ’e think I could ’ave done, ma’am?” asked the woman flatly. “When ’er ladyship takes the bit a-tween ’er teeth, there b’ain’t no man kin stop her, I’m thinkin’. And ’owever foul-tempered ’e may be, ’is grace be a fairminded man all t’ same. ’E’d not expect me t’ split on me own mistress. Not ’im.”
Brittany nodded, then noting that her sister had begun to stir, she fled, having no wish to exchange words with Alicia. Hurrying into her bedchamber, she found Sarah Basehart busily gathering such of her clothing as needed brushing or mending.
“My green pelisse, Sarah, quickly. I am going to Bond Street.”
“Yes, my lady, I’ll just get my bonnet.”
Brittany nearly told her there was no need to disturb herself, but she realized her father would dislike hearing that she had gone alone, and today was no day to annoy him. Therefore, telling Sarah she would meet her in the front hall, she flung her pelisse over her arm and hurried to the duchess’s sitting room, where she discovered her mother sitting morosely before a crackling little fire. The duchess looked up at her with reddened eyes.
“Oh, Brittany, he heard it all at White’s—that is, he heard that Alicia had been present at the assembly. No one told him she ought not to have been, of course, for no one knew, but he knew that much for himself. He is livid.”
“I know, ma’am, I have seen him. Alicia will soon discover that she cannot call all the tunes for herself, but Papa does not seem to blame anyone else. He knows you knew nothing.”
“Yes, he said as much, but he also said I ought to have known. But how could I, my dear? Alicia never gives away a thing when she is plotting mischief.”
Brittany kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “You did nothing wrong, Mama, and so you know. It is not like you to be so cast down for a mere scold.”
The duchess sighed. “He was rather fiercer than usual, I fear. You know his way. In most cases, he merely flings an accusation my way as he is leaving the room, but this morning he read me such a lecture as I haven’t heard in twenty years, I promise you.”
“Well, it was too bad of him, ma’am. Would you like to go to Bond Street with me? I decided to find a new bonnet, though not in Bond Street, of course, but I thought I might order new visiting cards for you if you like.”
That brought a wan smile to the duchess’s face. “Yes, I think you had better do so, dear, for I believe he will have to allow her to have her way. And a bonnet shop would be delightfully peaceful, would it not? I am tempted, my dear, but I think I will enjoy a brief repose right here, recuperating my forces for the host of morning callers that will no doubt begin to descend at any moment.”
“Oh, good gracious!” exclaimed Brittany. “I must fly, ma’am. Pinchbeck must be warned to deny you to callers. Papa has ordered Alicia to the bookroom.”
The duchess’s face paled. “Good God, Brittany. Don’t stand about. His voice carries so that it may be heard quite easily on the front stoop, let alone the hall. Go, go!”
Brittany went, but she quickly discovered that her haste was not necessary. The stately butler had already heard that his master wished to have a few words with the Lady Alicia, and he assured Brittany that he had no intention of admitting callers to the house until the duke had had his say.
“Your carriage will be ’round in a trice, ma’am,” he added gently.
“Am I a coward, Pinchbeck?”
“Not at all, Miss Tani. I daresay even the Lady Cicely wouldn’t stay for this row.”
Brittany grimaced at the memory of her elder sister’s battles with their father. There had been a number of those memorable episodes, to be sure, though Brittany had never found herself in such a position. Somehow she had managed to elude her father’s greatest wrath over the years, suffering only the mildest of scolds when she had not done as well as she might with her lessons. And there had been one time that she had feared for some moments at least that she would not get by unscathed, a matter of some seven or eight years before when she had returned from an expedition nearly an hour later than she had said she would be home. His lecture that time had been more forceful than usual, but he had done no more afterward than send her to her bedchamber without supper.
Thinking of that time now, she let her gaze drift speculatively toward the bookroom door, which was firmly shut. No sound could be heard from within, so clearly Alicia had not yet come downstairs. Surely, ten minutes had passed by now. She looked up the sweeping stairway, half-fearing she would see her sister, half-fearing she would not. The first person to come into view, however, was Sarah. Brittany greeted her with relief, and with even more relief heard Pinchbeck, behind her, murmur that the carriage was at the door.
As she turned, she heard a clatter of heels on the wooden treads and turned back to see her sister hurrying down the stairs.
“Tani, is my sash tied? Are my stockings straight?”
Alicia held her skir
ts to her knees to keep them out of her way. Her white silk stockings were a trifle askew, but Brittany had no heart to tell her so. When Alicia whirled to a stop before her, she did straighten the sash and smooth her sister’s shining hair. Alicia’s face, when she turned around again, was white except for the red blotches at her cheeks, put there by her haste.
“It won’t be so bad,” Brittany muttered.
“Of course not,” Alicia said in a tone of pure bravado, “and, anyway, it will be worth it.” But her lips trembled as she turned toward the bookroom door.
Brittany didn’t waste another moment. Grabbing Sarah’s arm, she whisked that lady out the front door before Alicia reached the library. Safely in the carriage, she leaned back against the blue velvet squabs with a sigh. The bustle of the city streets would be a welcome diversion.
The carriage drew up before Mitchell’s, the well-known art publisher and bookseller, and Brittany gathered her reticule and the skirts of her pelisse in preparation to descend. Letting Sarah precede her so that she would not have to climb over her feet, she slid closer to the door and waited for the footman to assist her. It was not the liveried arm of a Malmesbury footman that stretched to meet her hand, however. It was an arm elegantly clad in blue superfine. Leaning forward, she found herself looking directly into a pair of dark-gray eyes.
“Good morning, Lady Brittany,” Cheriton said gently. “A fine day, is it not?”
5
BRITTANY ALLOWED CHERITON TO take her hand and assist her to the pavement before she spoke, her surprise at seeing him there perfectly evident. “’Tis indeed a fine morning, sir, but I did not think gentlemen were out and about this early in the day.”
“Ah,” he said in that same gentle tone, “then that explains why I find you in this of all streets at such an hour.”
