Lady Reluctant

by Maggie Osborne

  “Cecile,” Blu said slowly. “You do know that to catch a babe, you have to roger. You know that, don’t you?”

  Beneath her almond mask, Cecile’s face was flaming. “Yes, I know.”

  “Are you worried about rogering because... Cecile, do you have any feeling in your privates?”

  “Sometimes I think... but then... Oh Blusette, I’m just not certain.” Handing Blu a cloth, she dipped her own in the basin and scrubbed at the almond paste, hiding her face. “But I understand my duty. Whatever the case, I shall do my utmost to provide Edward an heir.”

  “Bloody hell! If you have no feeling in your privates, he’ll think he’s rogering a corpse!”

  Cecile burst into laughter. “But at least I don’t have to worry about being soured forever,” she said. Then blushed crimson at her daring.

  “I hope you have a dozen children and learn to love catching them!” Blu hugged her.

  ~ ~ ~

  Frowning, Lady Katherine lifted her head from her embroidery. “What is that awful noise?”

  “I believe it is laughter, my dear.” Aunt Tremble pressed her fingers above her eye and pushed her mouseskin eyebrow firmly back into place. The heat had loosened the glue. Occasionally fashion proved a nuisance.

  “Laughter?”

  “In the garden, I should think.” She spit her plumpers into her palm so she could speak without a lisp. Lisps were stylish and unavoidable when wearing plumpers, but she thought she disapproved. “I would verify the case, my dear Katherine, but I dare not risk a glimpse of that dreadful black man or the whore. I always faint and I don’t feel like fainting this morning. I shouldn’t worry—laughter is harmless. You should do more of it yourself. You are still young, my dear, and never more beautiful than when you smile or laugh.”

  Setting aside her embroidery, Katherine moved to the window, then sucked in a choking breath. She gripped the draperies with one hand and pressed the other to her mouth to thrust back a scream.

  “They have put Cecile up in the oak,” she gasped. “And she’s... Oh my God, she’s waving a sword! Cecile is sitting in a tree waving a sword!” Blackness dropped over her vision and she thought she would swoon.

  “My dear, have you noticed how frequently you resort to swear words of late? You know I don’t wish to criticize, but...”

  “Hush, Tremble. Did you hear what I said? They have put Cecile into a tree! My God! She’s laughing so hysterically, she will surely fall and injure herself!”

  Cecile’s hair had fallen to her waist and a hoydenish display of petticoats kicked up about her ankles. Only the angels secured her in the arm of the oak, considering the reckless abandon with which she was swinging one of Walter Paget’s ceremonial swords.

  Beneath her on the ground, cheerfully trampling the Queen Anne roses, Blusette and Mouton conducted a demonstration duel. The swords had surely come from Walter Paget’s study. Isabelle rode in Cecile’s chair, shrieking with laughter, while Monsieur ran her up one garden path and down another.

  “Stop that at once!” Katherine’s fingers scrabbled at the window latch. But the window had been painted shut a decade past. Spinning, she rushed to the servants’ pull and jerked it so hard the velvet strip came away in her hand. Running, she returned to the window, almost weeping with relief to see Mouton lift Cecile from the tree and gently replace her in the chair Isabelle had vacated.

  Then her heart lurched as Blusette leaped forward and engaged Cecile in a mock duel. Swords flashed in the sunlight. Katherine pressed both hands to her lips as the blades engaged. To her horror, a line of blood appeared on Blusette’s arm. It could just as easily have been Cecile.

  “Stop!” she screamed at the window. But they couldn’t hear. Where was that blasted Mr. Apple? Was everyone sleeping downstairs?

  Pressing her face to the glass, she waved her hands and tried to attract their attention. No one glanced upward. Now they were playing some absurd sort of tag. Mouton raced Cecile around in her chair and Blusette made a display of attempting to catch them. The chair spun up on two wheels, almost dumping Cecile into the yew, then settled back to the gravel and off they went again. The silly incautious girl was laughing, like a resident of Bedlam. They all were.

  If Mr. Apple had not appeared at that moment, Katherine would have thrown something through the glass so she could shout at them to desist before Cecile suffered an injury. They were all of them stark, dangerous mad.

  Pointing a finger at the window, she shouted at Mr. Apple. “Stop them at once! Send them to me!”

  “Surely not the whore and the black,” Aunt Tremble asked, her faded eyes peering from a drape of wrinkles.

  “All of them!” When Mr. Apple had hastened down the corridor, Katherine turned away from the window, unable to watch another moment. She was shaking. “This is unforgivable! She must be sent away, that is all there is to it. She has to go. Document or no document, I cannot countenance her presence another day. Not another hour!”

  “Nonsense,” Aunt Tremble commented briskly. “You are allowing your fear for Cecile’s safety to cloud your judgment. The Blusette girl has spirit. She is an invigorating influence on Cecile. And entertaining, if I do say so.”

  “Aunt Tremble!”

  “Well, she is. I’ll concede she is about as refined as a cobblestone, but even you must admit she is trying to learn. And she has made remarkable progress. When she first arrived, I foretold it as impossible to make something of her. I was wrong, Katherine. She comes along. More important, she has brought life to this house. Since Walter died and Cecile was crippled, this house has been like a tomb. Now Cecile is laughing and you have something to think about instead of yourself.”

  “Et tu, Tremble?” Katherine whispered.

  Aunt Tremble clasped both hands atop the gold handle of her cane and leaned forward. She fixed Katherine with a shrewd but sympathetic gaze.

  “Could it be you fear developing an affection for this chit?”

  “A tomcat has more breeding than she!”

  “And who is to blame for that?” Aunt Tremble inquired softly. “There is the root of it, is it not?”

  Katherine covered her eyes with a shaking hand. “You would have done as I.”

  “Of course.” Tremble’s faded eyes softened. “But now she has appeared on your step. Now the past must be confronted.” When Katherine turned away, she paused before continuing. “If you conceive an affection for the child, then you may find yourself flooded with regret. Is that the source of your bile, Katherine? Do you fear you may regret past decisions and lost years?”

  “I do not wish to discuss this further!”

  But silence did not alter the truth in Tremble’s assessment. If Katherine allowed herself to find value in Blusette, if she allowed herself to admire her daughter’s stubborn determination, to admit Blusette’s rapid accomplishments, if she even allowed herself to like, much less love, the girl... then how could she bear the past? The guilt and agony of abandonment would rise with sharpened teeth and destructive power.

  Even now, she occasionally discovered herself secretly studying Blusette with a mixture of grudging respect and fledgling pride. The girl was a rough stone, but some could say the stone was a gem. She had brought life and vivacity to Grosvenor Square. She had restored the pink to Cecile’s cheeks. Even Tremble had succumbed to Blusette Morgan’s rough earthy appeal.

  She was also a threat to all Katherine held dear.

  Rubbing her temples, she moved to the window, watching Mr. Apple interrupt the frivolities below. And she asked herself if it was true that she had reached the end of her endurance as she had indicated to Tremble. The answer, of course, was no. She might be short on patience, but time had proved her long on endurance.

  It was to be expected that Tremble would faint when the culprits arrived in Katherine’s chamber. On cue, Tremble swept fearful eyes over Isabelle and Mouton, then her eyes rolled back and she collapsed in her chair. Cecile pushed forward to offer smelling salts, but Katherine r
aised a hand.

  “We shall not revive Tremble until we have finished our business.” Holding her head high, her chin rigid, she met the eyes of each with a frosty gaze.

  Monsieur pressed his lips in an anxious line and hastily attempted to set his wig aright. Isabelle eyed Mr. Apple. Mouton waited behind Cecile’s chair, his oiled head gleaming as brightly as his gold earring. Cecile had not appeared so disheveled since childhood. Her golden hair tumbled past her shoulders, spilling over the back of her chair. A rent in her skirt exposed leaves stuck to her petticoats. Her cheeks glowed like roses in sunlight.

  Blusette appeared the least disarranged. Her dark hair had fallen, but her hair was a disgrace at any time. Aside from the cut bleeding on her arm, her poise was such that she might have just stepped from the drawing room.

  “Your behavior surpasses belief,” Katherine said in a tone milder than her thoughts. “Clearly it has escaped your notice, but the windows of half a dozen town houses gaze down into my garden. Before supper, your outrageous activities will have fueled tongues in half a dozen households.”

  Cecile and Monsieur lowered their heads.

  “This offensive behavior shall not occur again. I will not have my household romping in the garden like a debauched Covent Garden mob, nor will I tolerate having my daughter placed in peril!”

  But Mama, I was never in danger! I do apologize that we embarrassed and offended you, but...” The apology dropped from Cecile’s expression and her eyes glowed with an inner light. “But I can’t think when I’ve had a finer time! It was lovely!”

  Katherine ignored her daughter’s speech. “Mouton—henceforth I charge you with Cecile’s care. Should she in future forget herself to such an extent as she displayed this morning, you shall bring her to me at once. I believe we can surely conceive more suitable amusements.”

  Mouton inclined his head and performed a salaam across his massive chest.

  “Monsieur—you have disappointed me.” Monsieur wrung his hands and his chin sank lower on his chest. “One would think a man who has glimpsed a king would possess greater dignity than to allow himself to be observed running hither and yon along a garden path pushing a whore in a purloined chair. Surely you have loftier occupations requiring your attention.”

  “You are quite correct, my lady, quite correct. I confess myself inconsolable with remorse.”

  “This morning’s display is hardly the example I depend on you to establish for our young ladies. I pray you will examine yourself and will effect such corrections as may be required.”

  “I shall, my lady. I certainly shall!”

  “Senorita Sanchez—as a ladies’ maid, you have failed miserably. Before week’s end, Miss Morgan will have someone trained to the task. The question now is what will become of you. You cannot remain in my household. As a parting gesture, and to facilitate your departure, I am willing to arrange your immediate return passage to Morgan’s Mound.”

  Blu interrupted, her face flushed. “You can’t—”

  Katherine’s chill gaze silenced her. “I can and I shall decide whom I wish to support under my roof. It has become abundantly clear that Senorita Sanchez’s skills do not include attending a lady. Her expertise lies elsewhere.”

  Isabelle placed a hand on Blu’s sleeve and smiled with an expression of relief and apology. “Your lady speaks true, Blu.” She looked from Blu to Lady Katherine. “I go from here, but I stay in London. There is bueno business here. And you and me, we could see each other from time to time,” she said to Blu.

  “Oh Isabelle. You want to leave me?”

  Isabelle flipped her braid over her shoulder and glanced at Lady Katherine from the side of her eyes. Leaning to Blu, she whispered. “This place, she is not for me. I do no good to your hair, I lace you wrong. You do better with another like your mama say. And I do better.” Facing Lady Katherine, she scratched her armpit and narrowed her eyes, for negotiation. “You pay to me what passage would cost?”

  Katherine hesitated. Her face clouded with distaste. “You would use the money to establish a bordello.”

  “Sí. I make you partner.”

  Katherine pressed a hand to her breast and glanced at Tremble who, thankfully, remained in a swoon.

  “That is not necessary,” she said in a faint voice. “I shall pay the passage fee to be used as you see fit. On the condition that you depart before morning.”

  Cecile leaned forward in her chair to regard Isabelle with affection. “We shall miss your cheerful disposition, Isabelle. I wish you all good fortune.”

  “Gracias, Señorita. And to you.”

  “Cecile—words fail me.” Katherine observed her daughter with bewilderment, then decided to confine her remarks to the morning’s offense. “You at least should have known better. Your position dictates that you establish the tone in your presence. I must hold you largely responsible for this outrage of behavior.”

  “I accept my responsibility, Mama, and I do, apologize.”

  But Katherine could see that Cecile was not for a moment sorry. Not a flicker of regret dimmed Cecile’s bright eyes. What was worse, Katherine understood. For one dizzying moment, memory showed her a scene on Morgan’s Mound when Beau Billy Morgan had swung her to the arm of a cedar tree. She had kicked her skirts above her knees and laughed as he filled her lap with fragrant hibiscus. She had felt gloriously daring and free. Nineteen years had not diminished her memory of the heady scent of cedar and sunshine and blossoms. Billy had laughed that day and had sworn that everyone should view the world from the arm of a tree at least once. She had thrown back her head, spilling her hair to the sun and his hands and she had agreed with all her heart.

  “I shall devise your punishment later,” she informed Cecile, already suspecting there would be no punishment.

  Finally, her gaze fixed on Blusette. “You will remain. The rest of you are dismissed.”

  Although Blusette had shared her roof for three weeks, Katherine had avoided a second moment of privacy between them. To steady her mind, she poured coffee from the tray on the table beside Tremble, who now snored in a normal doze.

  “If you punish Cecile, you must punish me also.”

  “I would not think of doing otherwise,” Katherine agreed, regarding this daughter she resisted claiming. Blusette stood before her, eyes blazing in defiance. Without question she was Beau Billy’s daughter. Bold, brazen, possessed of a wild, vivid beauty. “I hold Cecile responsible for allowing the tone to degenerate. I hold you solely responsible for placing my daughter in danger.”

  For an instant Blusette appeared puzzled. “Cecile was never in danger.”

  “She could have fallen from the tree.”

  “Mouton would have caught her before she struck the ground.”

  “You fought with her. Swords are not toys!” A curt nod indicated the blood seeping from the cut on Blusette’s arm. “That could have happened to Cecile!”

  “Not bloody likely.” Blusette’s tone was as cold as Lady Katherine’s. “Cecile is not skilled with a blade. But I am. At no time was my sister in danger of shedding a single drop of blood!”

  “I will not tolerate a similar incident. Is that clear?”

  “Abundantly.”

  Lifting her cup, Katherine forced herself to sip the coffee. When the silence became heavy, she raised her head and examined the young woman standing before her. “There is something I wish to know. Why did you agree to come to me?”

  “The wound is shallow and of no account. I beg you not to concern yourself further,” Blu said between her teeth. Taking a linen from the coffee tray, she pressed it to the blood seeping down her arm.

  A flush of discomfort stained Katherine’s cheeks. “Naturally, I am relieved.”

  “Naturally.” Btu raised her eyes. “I came because my father insisted. And because I was curious about you.”

  “Am I what you expected?” She hated herself for asking.

  “In truth, no.” Blu’s tone suggested the reality was worse tha
n her expectations. “I believed a lady was weak, fainthearted, vaporous, cowardly, and hypocritical.” She met her mother’s eyes. “I have since learned a lady is not weak and is seldom vaporish or fainthearted.”

  “I see,” Katherine said, when it became apparent Blusette would say no more. Her chin stiffened. So Blusette regarded her as cowardly and hypocritical. Her tone crisped as she deliberately changed the topic. “Is it or is it not your desire to improve yourself and find a match?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Your performance has been indifferent.”

  “To my shame, I only recently perceived the swiftest route home is to become what my father wishes. And by the balls, I have applied myself!”

  “Only of late.” Katherine ground her teeth. “I am given to understand you will continue to do so?”

  “Aye. But I want no match. I want to go home.”

  “If no suitor appears to your liking, I shall agree. An effort must be made, however, to satisfy your father’s requirements.” As Blusette understood plain speaking, she continued in that uncomfortable vein. “You must understand we are working against time. To spare everyone a humiliation, you must be presentable before September. Even with considerable progress, you are far from that point at present.”

  “I am doing the bloody best I can!”

  “No, Blusette, you are not.” Eyes and wills clashed. “You comply with such rules as appeal and cause you little inconvenience, and reject those which do not. You require greater impetus.” She drew a breath. “Henceforth, you shall be penalized each time you utter a swear word. Each time you appear without your corset. Each time you venture downstairs with your hair undressed. Each time you pad about barefoot. Each time you overlook your hand and breast cream. Each time you forget a point of etiquette.”

  “What sort of penalty?” Blu demanded, her hand gripping air where her sword should have been.

  “I have noticed you enjoy good appetite. Therefore, an item of food shall be removed each time you forget yourself.”