Wife Errant

by Joan Smith

  “I shouldn’t count on that, James.”

  “Nor I.” Lord James laughed. “I never met such a challenging lady. There is fire buried beneath the ice, you know. I like that. Her passion has been held in abeyance for too long. It needs only the proper fanning to flare into flame. It is not entirely cream-pot love that recommends Miss Marchant to me. I look forward to—”

  Revel felt an unaccountable stab of anger. “To behaving with perfect propriety, cousin,” he said brusquely. When had all this discovery of the fire beneath the ice taken place?

  “Do I see discern a spark of green in your eyes, Revel?” Lord James teased. “This promises to be an even more interesting evening than you indicated.”

  “If you infer that I am dangling after Miss Marchant, you are quite mistaken. She is a friend and neighbor. I don’t want you pestering her with unwanted attentions.”

  “If I sense they are truly unwanted, then naturally I shall desist. Paupers can be gentlemen, too. Very kind of you to drop by and warn me about Marchant. I say, you wouldn’t have a few quid to spare? They are becoming a tad persistent at the hotel.”

  Revel left five pounds lighter in the pocket and with a growing annoyance with Tess Marchant. Now he would have to worry about James flirting with her, as well as Mrs. Marchant. His next stop was at Lady Corbeil’s, to admit his blunder.

  She said angrily, “How dare Marchant come here without an invitation? I shall tell my butler to turn him off.”

  “You forget, auntie, I invited him. Or he thinks I did. And the Marchants are close neighbors at Revel Hall.”

  “If he brings that revolting Gardener widow with him—”

  ‘‘Oh, Lord! Don’t say such things, auntie. This evening promises to be bad enough without that.”

  “I don’t even know why I have invited Mrs. Marchant and her daughters. I do hope you are not planning to make a misalliance with some country wench, Revel. Are the gels pretty?”

  “Dulcie is quite a beauty,” he said. “She takes after Mrs. Marchant in looks.”

  “But she is a very babe. Not even out.”

  “They tell me she will make her bows next spring.”

  “How about the elder daughter?”

  “Rather handsome,” he said grudgingly, “but a shrew. A managing, harping female.”

  Lady Corbeil could only conclude that Revel was entertaining a passing fancy for the pretty Dulcie. She had no real fear that anything would come of it. He usually found some entirely unsuitable lady to honor for the duration of his annual visit to Bath.

  It was only to his mother that Revel could speak the whole truth about the imbroglio, and she, as usual, was not entirely sympathetic.

  “No wonder Tess is annoyed with you,” she said. “It is unlike you to be so woolly-tongued, Revel. How did you come to invite Marchant to Hettie’s do?”

  “He leapt to the wrong conclusion. Don’t you rip up at me too, Mama. I am in everyone’s black book. It will teach me to try to do anyone a favor. This evening promises to stand in memory as one of my darker hours.”

  She felt a weakening stab of love to see him so gloomy. “Things are never as bad as we think they are going to be. I shall insist that Marchant join my table for whist. He’ll like that, and so shall I. He is the only player who can match me for skill. That will give you an hour’s respite to flirt with the ladies.”

  “Truth to tell, I am tired of flirting with ladies, Mama. It is nothing but trouble.”

  “When a man is tired of flirting, it is a sure sign he is ready to settle down in marriage,” his mama said, and peered for his reaction.

  “That brings its own problems, n’est-ce pas! Look at the Marchants.”

  “Lyle Marchant is an old fool, dangling after girls at his age.”

  “I had no idea how many people got hurt in these affairs. All the Marchant ladies are suffering—as you must have suffered, Mama,” he added, with a gentle smile.

  “If a man don’t plan to settle down, he should make sure his wife don’t love him. If you are beginning to find a conscience, Anthony, that is the best advice I can give you. Don’t make a love match unless you mean to settle down, or you will break the lady’s heart.”

  “I cannot conceive of making any other sort of match.”

  “Do you have a particular lady in your eye?” she asked hopefully. Tess Marchant would do very well.

  “No,” he said quickly. Almost too quickly ...

  “You will meet her one of these days. Ask Figgs to get my pelisse, Anthony.”

  Figgs’s bulldog face peered around the doorjamb. “It’s ready. Can you put a wiggle on? I am due at the Hart for a game of cards.”

  “Eavesdropping again, Figgs?” Revel said.

  “Yes, and I have something to add to your mama’s good advice, your lordship. If you sire any bastards, leave ‘em provided for.”

  “And do not, under any circumstances, allow them into your home,” Lady Revel added as Figgs threw her pelisse over her shoulders.

  The party duly assembled that evening at Lady Corbeil’s handsome mansion on Saint James Parade. Any hope that Mr. Marchant would do the proper thing and stay away was soon extinguished. He arrived, alone, not ten minutes after his family. Both Lord James and Revel had arrived early, to be on hand to divert disaster. Lord James had been directed to stay away from Mrs. Marchant, and as Tess remained with her mother, he had to stay away from her, too. It was only Revel who stood with the Marchant ladies, making nervous chatter while they all kept their real attention on the door.

  Mrs. Marchant felt her heart flutter when Lyle came in and looked around for her. He was still a handsome man, still virile and desirable. As soon as he found her, his gaze softened to adoration. It was Dulcie, ably abetted by Revel, who bridged the awkward moment. She darted forward to greet him.

  “Papa! You came! I prayed that you would.” She lowered her voice and said, “You will stand up with Mama, won’t you?”

  “I shall if she’ll have me, and I’ll have a set with you, too, miss. Don’t you look fine as a star.”

  From the corner of his eye, he saw that Lou was in a receptive mood and allowed Dulcie to lead him forward.

  “Good evening, Lou,” he said nervously. “You are looking as lovely as ever. And Tess,” he remembered to add.

  Tess’s “Good evening, Papa,” Mrs. Marchant’s “Good evening, Lyle,” and Revel’s “How nice that you could come” blended in a welcoming confusion.

  They walked en masse toward the ballroom, where the sets were just forming. Mr. and Mrs. Marchant exchanged a nervous look. Mr. Marchant opened his lips, but before he could speak, Dulcie said, “Will you stand up with me first, Papa?”

  The child meant well. Her fear was that her mother would refuse to stand up with her father, and she wanted to avoid such unpleasantness at all costs. She realized from the concerted glare of all present that she had blundered. “Unless you want to stand up with Papa first, Mama,” she said apologetically.

  “Nothing of the sort,” Mrs. Marchant said, for she had no intention of being the first to capitulate.

  Dulcie’s father led her off to the dance floor. Mrs. Marchant began scanning the room for a sign of Lord James. If Lyle was ready to ignore her, she would not make a cake of herself by running after him. Revel saw her tightening lips and threw himself into the breach. “Mrs. Marchant, would you do me the honor?”

  “Why, I thought you would want to stand up with Tess,” she said.

  “Tess has promised to save me the set of waltzes,” he lied easily, and led Mrs. Marchant off to a square well removed from her husband’s.

  Lord James was not slow in pouncing forward to claim Tess. “I have been wanting to resume our acquaintance, after our delightful tea the other day,” he said.

  She looked him straight in the eye and replied, “I take it Lord Revel told you about my father’s coming uninvited?”

  “I am privy to the whole affair.” He smiled conspiratorially. “Between us, we sha
ll keep the peace,

  and bring him home to the bosom of his family. You look charming tonight, Miss Marchant. Gray becomes you.”

  “My gown is blue,” she said.

  “Gray—like your eyes—with just a soupçon of blue.”

  “I wish you would not flirt, Lord James.”

  “All part of our little evening’s drama. No extra charge. An old bachelor like myself does not get many chances to flirt with such dashing ladies as yourself.”

  “That is news to me. From what Mama says, you flirt with any lady who will let you.”

  He laughed merrily. “That is why I am so good at it.”

  Lord James had uphill work courting Tess, but he did squeeze a few smiles from her. Revel, watching, was distressed to see her relax her guard. James was not ready to give up, but he was relieved when the music stopped and he could have a glass of wine in peace.

  Revel contrived to bump into Dulcie and her papa at the set’s end and exchanged partners. The Marchants stood together like strangers, exchanging a few trite nothings. After the ice had been broken, Marchant said, “I felt I ought to make an appearance. Is it possible Tess has nabbed Revel?”

  “She might, if you can behave yourself and not give the family a disgust of us all with your carrying on.”

  “I have not seen hide nor hair of Mrs. Gardener since last night, Lou,” he said earnestly.

  “One swallow does not make a summer.”

  “It’s a beginning. I have missed you so, Lou.”

  Fine talk, Mrs. Marchant thought, but talk doesn’t butter the parsnips. “Of course, it is only a marriage of convenience Revel would have in mind,” she said.

  “That would suit our Tess, I think. She did not get your warm nature.”

  “No, she took after you in that respect.”

  Revel’s dance with Dulcie fared better. Her artless conversation was all about bringing her parents back together. She saw it as a great sign that Mama had agreed to dance with Papa. Revel listened with every sympathy. It was really unconscionable of Marchant to put his family through such disgrace and pain.

  Tess was put out that Revel did not have the second dance with her. She was not well pleased to see how attentively he listened to Dulcie and how soft his smiles were for her.

  Her next partner was an aging general who insisted on reliving his glorious career in India, the highlight of which appeared to have been being locked up in the black hole of Calcutta. She was in no good humor when Revel led Dulcie off to the refreshment parlor at the dance’s end. She told the general that her mama was particularly interested in India, and followed Revel to the refreshment parlor. She felt a pang of something hotter than mere annoyance to see Revel holding Dulcie’s hand.

  “You do think they will get back together?” Dulcie said, and Revel rashly promised to do everything in his power to bring it about. Dulcie’s smile was not one jot short of adoration. “If anyone can do it, I’m sure you can, Lord Revel, she said.

  Tess, hearing the tail end of their talk, gave Revel a disdainful look. “Robbing the cradle, Revel?” she asked.

  “Where is Lord James?” was his reply.

  “How should I know? I have been listening to a lecture on the black hole of Calcutta, and rather wishing I were there. Did your aunt not invite any young gentlemen to her rout?”

  “She invited Lord Revel,” Dulcie pointed out.

  From the corner of her eye, Tess saw Lord James at the doorway and grimaced. “Oh, dear, he has found me. I have already stood up with him once. It is your turn, Dulcie. England expects every daughter to do her duty.”

  Dulcie smiled sweetly at Revel. “All right, but remember you are my partner for dinner, Lord Revel.”

  She allowed Lord James to lead her off; Lord James allowed himself a wistful look over his shoulder at his prime target.

  “I hope you are not setting up as Dulcie’s flirt,” Tess said when the others had left.

  “I had no idea she was such a charming girl.”

  “A violet, blushing unseen in the wilderness, in fact. If you think she would sit still for your sort of carrying on—”

  “I hardly ever propose after just one dance. How’d it go with James?”

  “He was all compliance, and trying very hard to amuse me. I don’t know what it is about him that is so repellent, for he could not have been kinder. He reminds me a little of you.”

  Revel’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she hurried on. “Oh, I don’t mean that you are repellent, Revel. I imagine he was terribly handsome like you when he was young. Handsome bachelors become rather seedy when they are past forty and becoming desperate. The flowery compliments that are pleasing from a young gentleman have grown threadbare. One senses the desperate effort to attract and is disgusted by it.”

  That “terribly handsome like you” lingered in his mind, to ease the sting of “seedy bachelors.” “What flowery compliments did he insult you with, Tess?” he asked.

  “When a man wants to compliment a lady’s toilette, he might at least look to see what color gown she is wearing.”

  “And what corsage,” Revel added, piercing her with a questioning look.

  “Thank you for the orchid. I was never given one before. I was sorry it didn’t match my gown. I thought you had already ordered rosebuds. I anticipated sickeningly sweet pink ones, like Dulcie’s, and wore this blue gown, which makes me look dowdy. I expect it was the pink ones you had ordered for me.”

  “Guilty, as charged. I wanted to atone for making a botch of speaking to your father and enlarged the order while I was about it.”

  “Mama was flattered. I’m sure you did your best in speaking to Papa, too. You couldn’t help it if—”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “Don’t say it, Tess. I know I couldn’t help being a gudgeon. There is no need to beat me over the head with my stupidity.”

  “I was going to say you couldn’t help it if Papa ran away with the wrong idea. Really it is not going badly at all, and it is your contriving that has held disaster at bay.”

  Revel felt immensely flattered by this weak commendation. “Why, thank you, Tess.”

  “I only wish I didn’t have to have dinner with Lord James. I would much rather be with you, so I could relax and enjoy myself.” Familiarity had overcome her fear of Revel.

  Two compliments in a row from this usually harping lady were almost more than he could credit. He scanned her words for a hidden insult, but could find none.

  “Perhaps the four of us could be at the same table,” he suggested.

  She considered it a moment before replying. “No, we want to dilute the idea that there is anything between us—you and me, I mean. Mama is already speaking of my nabbing you as quite a settled thing.”

  Revel felt a spasm of alarm at this. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, yet he was a little disappointed.

  “Only think how horrid it would be if we were forced into getting married,” she said, and shuddered to contemplate such a fate—while simultaneously peering for Revel’s reaction.

  “A fate worse than death,” he agreed blandly, and left as soon as Mrs. Marchant and the general came to the refreshment parlor to have a glass of wine.

  Soon it was time for dinner. Tess was forced to submit to Lord James’s fawning attentions, and worse, to watch across the room as Dulcie flirted her way into Revel’s heart. But at least her parents were seated at the same table and not arguing.

  After dinner, Lady Revel made good her threat and got Mr. Marchant into the card parlor, where she fleeced him to the tune of four guineas. Tess had the promised set of waltzes with Revel, but the pleasure of it was stolen by her mother, who had the waltzes with Lord James.

  “Why did you let him stand up with her for the waltzes?” Tess asked. “The cotillion or a country dance would not be so bad, but the waltz! It is practically indecent. I don’t know how society allows it.”

  “Yet you and I are dancing in each other’s arms without any fear of licenti
ousness,” he pointed out.

  “That’s different. We are just friends.”

  Yet as she swirled to the insinuating rhythm, with Revel’s arms enfolding her, Tess began to realize that she would like more than friendship from him.

  “I hope we’re more than friends, Tess,” he said. She looked up and saw the laughter in his darkly shining eyes. “We are conspirators.”

  Friends, conspirators, but that was still not enough.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was with a great sigh of relief that Tess thanked Lady Corbeil and went out to the carriage with her mother and Dulcie at the rout’s end. The evening had not gone so badly after all. Barring having to stand up with Lord James twice, and Revel falling in love with Dulcie, it had been a success. Her parents had both behaved with more propriety than she had hoped.

  “Is Papa coming back home?” was Dulcie’s first eager question when they were in their carriage.

  “Eventually,” Mrs. Marchant replied, with satisfaction. “I shall keep him dangling a little longer. He must be cured entirely. Reforming him is such a wearing business that I should not want to ever have to do it again.”

  As they drove along the thinly populated streets, Dulcie said, “I think Papa’s carriage is following us, Mama.”

  Mrs. Marchant thought so, too, and emitted a smug little laugh. “Much good it will do him.”

  When her own carriage drew up in front of the house on Bartlett Street, it was seen that the carriage behind theirs was not Mr. Marchant’s, but Lord James’s.

  “What the deuce does he want?” Mrs. Marchant scowled.

  She was not left long in doubt. Lord James pounced out and said, “I thought we might get our heads together for a planning session. Lord Revel has told me the whole story, Lou. Naturally I am eager to help in any way I can.”

  Mrs. Marchant was not entirely pleased at his eagerness to return her to her spouse, but as she needed him to make Lyle jealous for a few more days, she allowed him to come in for a cup of tea. “Ask Crimshaw to serve tea for four, Tess,” she said, to give her daughters the hint they should remain belowstairs.