Mesalliance

by Riley, Stella

  ‘But he’s a fortune-hunter and everybody knows it. Why doesn’t Rock do something?’

  ‘I expect he will in time. And meanwhile – since you’re so worried – why don’t you do something?’

  ‘Such as what? She avoids me like the plague. Oh damn.’ This as the movement of the dance brought them face to face with Mr Ingram and Cassandra Delahaye.

  ‘One of these days,’ remarked Jack grimly, ‘someone will wring your neck.’

  ‘What did I do?’ The angelic blue eyes danced. ‘You wanted to meet Adeline’s cousins and I introduced you. What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Nothing – if you’d left it there and not interfered.’

  ‘Oh dear. Got the wrong one, did you?’ sympathised his lordship. ‘Never mind. Better luck next time.’ And he moved Adeline dextrously on.

  ‘What did you do?’ she asked.

  ‘Me? Not a thing. I just saw him looking at Mistress Thea and thought he’d appreciate her all the more for having a taste of Mistress Di first. If you were determined to be uncharitable, you might say that I sort of … manoeuvred him. That’s all.’

  The evening was well-advanced before Richard Horton, who had been charting his niece’s progress with interest, finally achieved his objective and caught her alone.

  ‘Well, my dear. You seem to suit your new life admirably.’

  Adeline started and wheeled to face him. Then, controlling her nerves, ‘You are surprised?’ she said.

  ‘Very. But no doubt Rockliffe is an excellent tutor.’

  ‘Exceptional,’ she sighed, smiling. ‘And now, if you will excuse me --’

  ‘Not so fast, Adeline. Not so fast.’ His hand trapped her arm and held it with seeming affection. ‘You owe me a little something, you know.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Certainly you do. But for me you would not be standing here now in satin and sapphires.’ He paused, examining her necklace through his glass. ‘Such very fine sapphires, too.’

  ‘Jealous, Uncle? Don’t be. They wouldn’t suit you.’

  He sighed and the pressure of his fingers increased.

  ‘You are still very sharp, are you not? You ought to be careful. You may cut yourself.’

  ‘Unlikely.’ The blue-green eyes were perfectly inimical. ‘Let go of me and tell me what you want.’

  Slowly and with reluctance, he released her.

  ‘You may not be aware of it but Miriam wished to prevent your marriage.’

  ‘So?’ shrugged Adeline. ‘She could not have done so.’

  ‘On the contrary. She could. I, however, persuaded her to change her mind.’

  ‘But how noble of you!’ she said scathingly. ‘And now, of course, I am supposed to repay you. But with what, precisely?’

  ‘For the moment,’ replied Mr Horton, delicately smoothing a crease from one rose-tinted sleeve, ‘all I require is a small favour. Later … well, later we shall see.’

  Adeline’s brows soared. ‘Shall we indeed?’

  ‘We shall. But at present I merely wish you to exert your influence a little.’

  ‘Over whom?’

  ‘Over your husband. Who else?’ came the silky reply. ‘I want to become a member of White’s and Rockliffe could arrange it. Persuade him for me.’

  Adeline was fully aware that White’s was the most exclusive club in London and that Rockliffe was one of its most respected members. A strange calm took hold of her and her mouth curled in a slow, honeyed smile.

  ‘No,’ she said.

  Some of Mr Horton’s suavity left him.

  ‘You will not, if you are wise, put me to the trouble of coercing you.’

  ‘Dear me. You think you could?’

  ‘I know I could. But let us avoid unpleasantness while we may. I ask you again, Adeline. Speak to your husband.’

  Quite deliberately, she made him wait. Then, ‘Speak to him yourself,’ she said.

  And left him.

  ~ * * * ~

  FOURTEEN

  Next morning over breakfast, she told Rockliffe.

  She had not, in fairness, intended to do so; but when she stretched out her hand for the coffee-pot and the lace at her elbow fell back to reveal her forearm, she found she had little choice.

  ‘Who in Hades did that?’ The Duke’s eyes were riveted on the shadowy marks lying stark on her skin and for the first time, the temper in his eyes was echoed in his voice.

  As calmly as she was able, Adeline withdrew her hand to her lap.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘I bruise easily.’

  ‘Don’t prevaricate. I can recognise finger-prints when I see them. Whose are they?’

  She looked at him for a moment and then, sighing, lowered her gaze.

  ‘My uncle’s.’

  ‘Richard Horton?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a long silence.

  ‘Then I promise you that he’ll regret it.’ Rockliffe’s tone had regained its usual smoothness but was none the less dangerous for that. ‘One presumes that he was not merely mauling you for fun but that he had a reason. What was it?’

  Adeline knew better than anyone that Mr Horton was by no means devoid of sadistic tendencies. She also knew that, if she said so, his Grace would demand details.

  ‘He wants to become a member of White’s. The general idea was that I should coax you into arranging it.’

  ‘And you refused?’

  ‘Well, of course.’

  ‘And his reaction was to man-handle you and leave you with bruises.’

  This time, she said nothing. Since he was clearly still angry, there didn’t seem to be anything she could say that would be helpful.

  Rockliffe was more than just angry – he was inwardly seething and was aware of a distressingly crude impulse that would have boded ill for Mr Horton, had he been within reach. However, since relieving his feelings in that particular manner was out of the question, the Duke battened down his temper in order to consider other options. But first he said flatly, ‘If anything of this kind occurs again, you will tell me of it immediately. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I mean it, Adeline.’

  She looked up at him and met an implacable black gaze. ‘Yes. I know you do.’

  ‘Good.’ Rockliffe thought for a moment and then said slowly, ‘Since Mr Horton clearly feels he can’t get into White’s without assistance of some kind, one must assume he’s already tried in the usual way and been refused.’

  ‘He didn’t say. But yes – I suppose that must be true.’

  ‘Interesting.’ He considered her attentively and then, the merest hint of humour creeping back into his voice, he said, ‘At the risk of sinking myself below reproach, I am constrained to admit that sponsoring your uncle at the Club is the one thing I will never do. Not even for you.’

  ‘Obviously. I knew that.’

  ‘Ah. But did you know why?’

  ‘I assumed … because of dislike both for Richard and for having your hand forced. Is that not all?’

  ‘Not quite. You see, my dear, I have known for some time that the so-charming Mr Horton attempts to earn the odd crust by means of his expertise at the card-table. And when his expertise isn’t enough … he cheats.’

  Adeline’s gaze grew utterly blank and it was a long time before she spoke. Then she said, ‘I was about to ask if you’re sure … but of course you are.’

  ‘Yes. I played cards with him in Oxfordshire – but only once. He’s quite good at it … one would have to say, well-practised – but not undetectable to anyone watching closely.’

  ‘I see. What a delightful family I have. It makes you wonder what we’ll discover next, doesn’t it?’

  Rockliffe, who for very good reasons, knew exactly what they might expect to discover next, kept his expression carefully neutral.

  ‘You should not,’ he observed, ‘allow it to concern you. No one, as they say, can choose their relatives. And nothing they do is any reflection o
n you.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to say so,’ came the bitter reply, ‘but you must forgive me if I find it hard to accept.’ She paused and drew a long, steadying breath. ‘Can you make sure that Richard most assuredly does not gain membership of White’s?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ He gave the ghost of a laugh. ‘And what is more, it will be my pleasure to ensure that he knows it.’

  *

  For reasons not entirely easy to identify, Nell was conscious of a faint dissatisfaction with life in general. It could not, of course, be put down to boredom for her days were crammed with engagements – from Venetian breakfasts to masked balls; and neither, since Rock had already received two offers for her hand and her rooms were daily bedecked with floral tributes from her various admirers, had she any cause to worry that she was not a Success. Her closets overflowed with expensive gowns and elegant fripperies, no one plagued her to practise her embroidery or read dull books and she had dearest Cassie to share her confidences. In short, life ought to be perfect … but somehow it wasn’t.

  She rather suspected [though she’d have died sooner than admit it even to Cassie] that her vague sense of unease was partly connected to her friendship with Sir Jasper Brierley. It was not that he was ever anything less than correct … well, not much less anyway; and at least he treated her as a grown woman – which was more than could be said of some people. But she had begun, from time to time, to feel ever so slightly out of her depth and she did not know what she should do about it.

  The safe, sensible course was to do what everyone wanted and cut the connection. And, despite the fact that she still found Sir Jasper fascinating and was learning from him every nuance of sophisticated flirtation, she might even have considered doing so … but for Harry Caversham.

  ‘You’re playing with fire, Nell,’ he’d said. ‘Haven’t you any sense?’

  ‘More,’ she had retorted, ‘than you give me credit for. And I can take care of myself, thank you.’

  ‘You may think you can. But the fact is that men like Jasper Brierley eat little girls like you for breakfast.’

  He had realised as soon as he’d said it that it had been a mistake.

  ‘Little girl?’ snapped Nell. ‘Is that what you think? Then let me tell you, my lord, that others see me differently!’

  ‘I’m aware of it. But perhaps they have less interest in your well-being.’

  ‘Or are less in the habit of interfering with what is none of their concern!’

  She remembered afterwards how he’d looked at her for a long time, his normally laughing eyes shuttered and opaque.

  ‘Then I’d better stop it immediately, hadn’t I?’ he had said at length. And gone off to dance with Diana Franklin.

  In retrospect, it occurred to Nell that she could have put up with anything but that. No matter how hard she tried to shrug it off, the picture of him smiling down on that exquisite, deceitful face refused to be quite banished. Indeed, in the days that followed, it seemed to become a recurring theme – for wherever she went, there was Lord Harry paying light-hearted court to Mistress Di, and Mistress Di thoroughly enjoying it.

  Sir Jasper’s attentions therefore came as a welcome balm – particularly as he showed no inclination to join the little côterie of gentlemen who regularly besieged Diana. And his opinion, when she casually sought it, was more comforting still.

  ‘Farouche,’ he said simply. ‘Pretty … but destined, I fear, to appeal only to unsophisticated palates. Unlike – dare I say it? – yourself.’

  Nell’s smile regained some of its usual sparkle.

  ‘I think, sir, that you flatter me.’

  ‘Not only is that not possible – but I have too much respect for your intelligence.’

  It was precisely what she wanted to hear – but he could not have known that. Flushing with pleasure, she said naively, ‘That is the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me.’

  Sir Jasper smiled upon her.

  ‘I find that hard to believe. Surely all the young gentlemen who surround you cannot be so unappreciative?’

  ‘No-o. But they all say pretty much the same things, you know.’ She gave a tiny chuckle. ‘Some even write poetry. And though you’ll probably think it quite horrid of me, most of it usually just makes me laugh.’

  ‘A natural reaction to bad verse … and the reason for my own abstinence in that direction.’

  ‘Well, I must say I think you’re wise,’ she owned candidly. And then, with more than a hint of hesitation, ‘But you … I think you have been sending me roses, haven’t you?’

  Taking her fan from her, he flicked it open and plied it gently, his eyes never leaving her face.

  ‘If I have … and if you only think I have … then it would seem a wasted exercise, would it not?’

  Nell met the pale grey gaze with uncertainty and a frisson of excitement. Every day for the past week, a single tightly-budded, dark red rose had arrived, accompanied only by a small square of pasteboard bearing a pair of elaborately entwined initials.

  ‘Very well, sir,’ she said, deciding to employ her new skills. ‘I am very sure they come from you. What I wanted to ask was – why?’

  ‘Why?’ He shrugged, whimsically. ‘My dear Lady Elinor, I am but sending one perfect rose-bud to another. And I give to you the same pleasure I am receiving myself … that of seeing each charming petal unfurl.’ And watched, smiling, as she blushed in confusion.

  *

  Not too far away, Diana Franklin looked on with shrewd interest.

  ‘I wonder if she means to have him?’ she mused. ‘He’s extremely attractive – and the fact that he hasn’t any money wouldn’t matter to her, would it? I imagine she’s rolling in riches already. You must ask her about him, Thea. Thanks, no doubt, to her precious brother, she hardly ever speaks to me these days.’ Her mouth curled, showing sharp, pearly teeth. ‘And that’s something else Rockliffe and his trollop will be made to pay for. Nell was useful to me.’

  Althea looked at her sister with frightened concern.

  ‘Di, dearest, don’t you think …?’

  ‘No. I don’t – and if you weren’t so feeble-minded, neither would you.’ Diana turned a withering cornflower gaze on her sister. ‘And while we are about it, I wish you’d try standing on your own two feet for a change. I’m never going to get anywhere with you hanging on to my petticoats.’

  A ballroom is no place to cry. Althea swallowed hard and stared down at her hands.

  ‘I – I’m sorry. I d-don’t mean to get in your way.’

  ‘Then don’t. And for heaven’s sake, pull yourself together. Mr Ingram’s coming towards us.’

  Had he been asked, Jack would have been hard put to explain just what had drawn him across the floor to the Franklin twins. The one he had scarcely exchanged two words with - and the other he had formed an almost instantaneous dislike for. If Mistress Althea was as like her sister in disposition as she was in looks therefore, he was condemning himself to unnecessary irritation; and if not … well, if not, she was an uncommonly pretty girl.

  He bowed, opened his mouth to speak and was forestalled by Diana.

  ‘Why, Mr Ingram – how delightful. You find us but newly-arrived and quite deserted. Isn’t that dreadful? And most unusual, too, I do assure you.’

  ‘I am sure it is,’ said Jack. ‘I -- ’

  ‘Yes. In this last week since we met you – at Bedford House, was it not? – we have quite ceased to be the country cousins you must have thought us. We have met – oh, everyone! Have we not, Thea? Ah – the gavotte has finished at last. I thought it never would.’ She turned a melting regard on him. ‘I do so love to dance. Do not you, sir?’

  And that, thought Jack, was less a hint than a twenty-gun salvo.

  Smiling pleasantly, he said, ‘I find it depends very much upon the company.’

  ‘Oh yes. I do so agree with you.’

  ‘Which is why,’ he continued, grimly enjoying himself and letting his eyes wander to the other girl, ‘I am
hoping Mistress Althea will honour me.’

  Althea turned scarlet. So, for different reasons, did Diana. Jack felt moderately pleased with himself and wished that Rock had been there to see it. He collected Althea’s gaze and held out his hand. ‘Well, Mistress? Will you honour me?’

  His voice was gentle and the grey eyes kind. Resolutely avoiding her sister’s gaze, she drew a long breath and said softly, ‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’ Then she put her hand shyly in his and allowed him to lead her out on to the floor, leaving Diana standing conspicuously alone.

  *

  Leaving Adeline to chaperone Nell to a small gathering of young people at the Delahaye residence in Conduit Street, Rockliffe set off for White’s in a mood of gentle anticipation which was almost immediately justified.

  ‘Rock, my loved one!’ Mr Fox stopped dead at the sight of him, one hand laid dramatically over his heart. ‘To what do we owe this immensely unexpected pleasure?’

  ‘Must there be a reason?’

  ‘It seems likely. We had begun to think marriage had changed you beyond recognition. Is that not so, March?’

  ‘The notion had occurred to us,’ agreed his lordship. ‘But your visit, as ever, is timely. Your wife’s uncle … Richard Horton, is it? … has been put up for membership of the Club.’

  ‘Ah.’ A faint smile bracketing his mouth, Rockliffe flicked open his snuff-box and presented it first to Mr Fox. ‘May I ask, by whom?’

  ‘By Ludovic Sterne,’ replied Lord March, his tone cooling a little. ‘I was given to understand that you would endorse the nomination and stand sponsor to the gentleman.’

  ‘Were you indeed?’ The Duke offered snuff to the Earl then snapped the lid shut and gazed at its enamelled panel with satisfied pleasure. ‘Tell me … are you acquainted with Mr Horton?’

  ‘No,’ said March. ‘I don’t, however, care to rely on any recommendation of Sterne’s.’

  ‘I see. And you, Charles?’

  ‘I have met the gentleman,’ replied Mr Fox languidly. ‘I regret to say that I did not find him entertaining. Not, of course, that one can hold that against him. The same could be said for half of London. More than half.’