by Joan Smith
Revel listened, unfazed. “There is something to be said for frankness, though—for knowing that a young lady actually means what she says. I find her conversation a refreshing change.” Noticing his cousin’s growing suspicion, he added, “And I expect her beau feels the same way.”
Lord James rose and began pacing the room. “Demme, I thought I had a chance with Tess Marchant. Had I realized she was taken, I might have given myself the pleasure of putting a bullet through Marchant’s shoulder, to show the old fool a lesson. She has not actually had an offer?”
“Not yet.” Revel knew of old the capricious nature of his cousin. He felt things would ride more smoothly if James were out of town. “You would have better hunting in London,” he suggested. “Even out of season, there are more heiresses there than anywhere else.”
“I haven’t a feather to fly with till quarter day,” James said, peering sideways to see what he might weasel out of his nephew. Revel was certainly eager to see the last of him.
“My London house is not open, but I always keep a couple of servants there to tend it. You are welcome to rack and manger. I daresay my housekeeper would feed you,” Revel said reluctantly. “You may use my season’s ticket to Drury Lane.”
“A kind offer, Revel, but I have a few accounts here at Bath that I cannot settle until quarter day. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you by doing a flit.”
“I do not take your antics so personally as all that, James. They have ceased to embarrass me. How much do you owe?”
Lord James mentioned a sum in excess of what he owed. Revel knew it was more than was required, but was so eager to be rid of James that he scribbled out a generous check. “There is a little something extra to see you settled in London,” he said, fanning the check to dry the ink.
Lord James reached eagerly for it. “Very kind of you, Revel. I’ll drop around and take my leave of your mama tomorrow.”
Revel held on to the check. “Shall we say ... today, James?”
“You are mighty eager to be rid of me.”
“Your lesser antics do not disturb me. A duel, however, is something else. You have caused quite enough mischief for the present.”
“Very well,” Lord James said, and seized the check. “It must be nice to hold the cheese and the knife, Revel.”
“You were left more than a competence, James. With a little more industry on your part, and a good deal less of gambling, you would be high in the stirrups. Whining does not become you. Your style is more dashing and devil-may-care. I shall take my leave now.”
Revel rose and made a graceful bow. His cousin cast a malevolent glare on him and showed him to the door. Revel should be shown a lesson. It galled Lord James to be led by an upstart nephew fifteen years his junior.
“You are welcome for the use of the house, and the money,” Revel said pointedly.
“Did I forget to thank you, Revel? An oversight, I assure you.” He closed the door, still without mentioning his gratitude.
Revel just gave a rueful shake of his head and left. Lord James was a hard man to like. The more you did for him, the more he resented it. But he would soon be gone.
Revel turned his thoughts to other matters. Tess should be free of her mama by now. He wanted to learn what had happened after James left Bartlett Street last night. He glanced at his watch—nearly lunchtime. He’d eat at home and warn Mama not to give James any money. James would certainly try his hand at dunning her as well. She wouldn’t be happy that James was being allowed to use the London house when she wasn’t there. They’d have to warn the housekeeper to keep an eye on the silver.
At Bartlett Street, Mrs. Marchant made good her threat of taking lunch in her room. A morning locked up alone was more than enough to induce a case of the jitters. She wanted to be out around town, to see what was going on and to hear what was being said. That a small scandal might be included in her outing was no deterrent, but rather a goad.
She rang for Henshaw and began her preparations. An afternoon toilette did not last for two hours. She was ready to leave in thirty minutes, only to be struck by the notion that Lord James might call. His attendance was more necessary than ever now, to incite Lyle to jealousy. She found Tess and Dulcie in the saloon, discussing their situation.
“Get your bonnet, Dulcie. We’re going out,” she said.
“Oh, Mama! I do not feel like it,” Tess said.
This was excellent. She had foreseen a battle to keep Tess at home, in case James called. “Then you need not come,” the mama replied, feigning indifference.
“Do you think it wise to go out today?” Dulcie asked.
“Good gracious, the world does not stop wagging because your papa has taken a mistress,” she said
angrily. “Do I not still require silk stockings and gloves?”
“What will you do if we see them?” Dulcie asked.
There was no need to further identify “them.”
“Ladies do not hear lewd conversations, and they do not see lewd goings-on,” Mrs. Marchant declared. “We shall stare through them as if they were not there.”
While Dulcie ran upstairs for her bonnet and pelisse, Mrs. Marchant gave her elder daughter instructions. “If anyone calls, be sure you take a message, Tess. I have no engagement for this evening, if anyone should enquire.”
“You mean Lord James?” Tess said, with an accusing look. “If he comes, I shall have Crimshaw tell him we are all out. I do not want to be alone with him.”
“Naturally I do not expect you to entertain him alone. You must call Henshaw down. If he comes, he can leave a note telling me his plans. I shall get a reply back to him.”
“You really should not go on seeing him, Mama.”
“What should I do, Tess? Tell me from your vast experience of losing beaux. Should I run and hide my head because your papa is a rake?”
This discussion was cut short by Dulcie’s return. The ladies left, and Tess told Crimshaw that if Lord James called, she was not at home, but he could leave a note if he wished.
It was not many minutes later when the door knocker sounded, and Tess flew to the farthest corner, in case Lord James got a peek into the saloon. Crimshaw had some difficulty finding her in the shadows when he came to announce Lord Revel.
“Send him in, Crimshaw,” Tess said.
She was in some confusion as to how she should behave vis-a-vis Lord Revel. Anger and jealousy urged her to cut up at him. On the other hand, his having performed a useful function for the family that morning deserved thanks.
Overriding both these thoughts was an overwhelming desire to make him fall in love with her. Perhaps if she used some of her mama’s and Dulcie’s wiles ... Oh, dear, and she really ought not to meet him alone.
“Shall I ask Henshaw to come down?” Crimshaw enquired.
“It won’t be necessary to disturb her. Lord Revel won’t stay long,” she said, blushing like a blue cow.
Crimshaw gave a mutinous look, but did as he was told. In seconds, Revel was shown in.
“Mama and Dulcie are out,” Tess said. “I did not bother asking Henshaw down to accompany us.”
“Good,” he replied, and walked to the gloomy corner, where she stood. “Why are you hiding in the shadows, Tess?”
“I didn’t know who was calling. I thought I might not want to be home.”
“I shall take that as a compliment,” he replied.
He took her hand and led her to the sofa. Tess knew that if she was ever to have her chance with Revel, this was it. They were alone, sitting side by side. She glanced shyly at him. “I want to thank you for helping us this morning, Revel. We felt so helpless, being caught in the Pump Room like that.”
"I didn’t do anything but walk you to the door. I daresay you would have handled the matter as well, or better, without me.’“
“Oh, no! Truly, I was at my wits’ end. It was the answer to a prayer when you appeared.”
“Doing it too brown, Tess.” He laughed. “The reason I came ... I w
ant to hear from the horse’s mouth just what happened last night after James left. Your mama and Dulcie were twittering so ...”
Horse’s mouth! It was hard to go on flattering, him after this blunt speech, but she carried on gamely. "Things were not going too badly while Lord James was here. He is a complete hand, Revel. He said he was only a friend of the family, lending Mama his support at this difficult time. He praised her to the skies, and told Papa she was a rare jewel, or some such thing.”
“That was well done of him.”
“I was surprised at his handling the situation so well. It was after he left that things got really hot. Papa charged Mama with carrying on, and she said he was unfit for decent company. Papa said he felt quite at home in her house, for she was turning it into a brothel, which is another word for bawdy house, you must know. Well, of course you do ...”
She came to a halt. Revel’s lips twitched. “So I have heard. Then what?”
“Then he implied he was not our father, if you please. Well, really, I did not blame Mama in the least for throwing her teacup at him. I am only sorry she missed. It is clear at a glance I am his daughter at least, for everyone mentions the resemblance. And Dulcie has his nose, though she got Mama’s eyes and hair and manner.”
She recalled that she meant to borrow that manner, and added in a sweet accent, far removed from her normal voice, “Oh, it was horrid, Revel. If only you had been here I’m sure you could have prevented Mama from telling him never to darken her door again.”
“Cut line, Tess,” he said curtly. “I did not come here to have the butter boat dumped over me. Your main charm has always been your lack of wiles. Don’t insult my intelligence by playing off these stale tricks.”
“What intelligence?” she snapped. Her eyes flashed dangerously, and her fawning expression firmed to vexation.
“That is more like it. Then what did your father do?”
“He left, and obviously ran straight to Esmée. How else did she earn that diamond bracelet that was dangling from her wrist this morning?”
“That diamond bracelet— There is something amiss there. She would never take diamonds from me.”
“Your powers of persuasion must be sadly lacking if you cannot even get a lightskirt to accept diamonds,” she snipped.
“I have told you, what the lady wants is a golden band. Esmée is not a lightskirt, precisely.”
“What would you call a woman who can be had outside of marriage?” she demanded.
“Very obliging,” he answered promptly. “But until she takes payment, she ain’t a lightskirt.”
“This is mere playing with words.”
“A game for which you are ill-equipped,” he teased.
“A woman of that sort is a lightskirt, whatever you choose to call her.”
“You forget Esmée is a widow. That gives her some latitude in her dealings with gentlemen.”
“So it seems. About the bracelet, I can only conclude that Papa has offered her marriage, after the divorce comes through.”
Revel could not place any other construction on it, either, and his anger showed. “This is intolerable!”
“It seems you will have to up the ante, Revel. If you want her back, you must put your diamonds in your pocket and buy the golden band.”
“Don’t speak like an idiot. I expect more sense from you,” he said gruffly.
From horse to idiot! Her patience was at an end. “I am finished with being an idiot. You have had your little game, Revel. You have paid Papa off for stealing your flirt by using me to make Esmée jealous. I wondered at your sudden fit of compliance, when you never stirred a finger to help anyone before in your life.”
Revel’s shoulders tensed. His expression froze to disdain, and he said loftily, “Are you quite through, Tess?”
“Not quite. As you deem me capable of handling unseemly matters, I shall give you a little advice. The lady obviously means business. I daresay Esmée would prefer a well-inlaid lord, even if he has a tarnished reputation, to an older divorced man with only a modest estate in York. If you want her, you had best get a move on, or Papa will beat you to her.”
His expression thawed to simple annoyance, then further melted to a smile. “Now that is a performance worthy of you, shrew,” he said softly. “I thank you for your advice.” He rose. “It won’t be necessary for you to hide in the corner again. James won’t be calling.”
“How do you know? Where is he? Has he left?”
“Not yet, but he will be leaving soon.”
“Did you send him away? I don’t understand, Revel. We were counting on him—”
His eyes narrowed. “May I know for what?”
Tess lifted her chin. “Don’t worry. It does not concern you and Esmée.”
Revel made a bow and hastened out to his carriage. “Mrs. Gardener’s flat,” he called to his groom.
Chapter Seventeen
“Lord James did not call,” Tess said when her mama and Dulcie returned. She feared this news would put Mama in one of her moods, but it was no such a thing.
“Did he not, dear? Then you might as well have come with us,” Mrs. Marchant replied airily.
Tess looked to her sister for an explanation. “We met Esmée,” Dulcie announced, smiling from ear to ear.
“Not with Papa, I take it?”
“She was with Lord Revel,” Mrs. Marchant said, and went off into joyous hoots of laughter.
Tess stood like a statue. This was her fault. She had advised Revel to go back to Esmée, but she had not thought he would follow her advice with such unholy promptitude. He must truly be in love with that scarlet woman.
Mrs. Marchant asked Crimshaw to bring tea, and gathered her daughters around her in the saloon for a good cose.
“It is famous!” she crowed. “Did I not say all along, Tess, that Revel was only using you to make Esmée jealous? The young fool has offered her marriage, certainly. His mama will hit the roof.”
“What about Papa?” Tess asked in a quavering voice, though at that moment she did not care if she ever saw him again. It was the image of Revel with Esmée that had undone her.
“The vibrato is slightly overdone, my dear, but that was a very good attempt at having feelings,” Mrs. Marchant said, and gave Tess’s hand a maternal pat, then went off into further gales of laughter. “Now you will see your papa come trotting home.”
“You will take him back this time, Mama?” Dulcie urged. “Please, do it. Don’t let him fall into a hobble with some other lady.”
“If he has learned his lesson,” Mrs. Marchant said, with a loving gleam in one eye and a wily glint in the other. “And an expensive lesson it was. That diamond bracelet cost fifty guineas.”
“Did you see Papa at all?” Tess asked.
“I fancy he was hiding his shame at the Pelican,” her mama replied. “If Lord James calls, I shall not go out.”
Tess knew that Lord James was leaving. She ought to tell her mother about Revel’s call, but she felt a peculiar reluctance to mention his name. A strange lump was growing in her throat. He had gone back to Esmée. Her best efforts to ingratiate him had failed. He had called her a horse and an idiot.
“Why are you looking so glum?” Mrs. Marchant demanded. “I should think you would be happy, child.”
“She’s blue because she has lost Lord Revel,” Dulcie said. “I don’t believe he loves Esmée at all. I think it is just a ruse. In fact, I asked him to do it.”
“He didn’t do it for you! I suggested it, too,” Tess replied hotly. No one thought to enquire when she made this request.
“Ninnies.” Their mother laughed. “As though he would go an inch out of his way to oblige either of you hussies. It is famous that the great Lord Revel has been caught by a lightskirt, but really I cannot like to think of Esmée living so close to Lyle at home.”
“Lord Revel won’t marry her, Mama,” Dulcie repeated.
“You are probably right. He has offered her carte blanche—an allowance, a f
lat in London, her own carriage and team, and all the rest of it. If she is wise, she will snap at it, for she is getting pretty long in the tooth. Is that not what you said, Tess, when you saw her at the George and Dragon?”
“Yes, I did not find her at all attractive.” That description had been designed to please her mama. What Tess was seeing in her mind’s eyes was an extremely elegant lady with a flashing smile and clever eyes, Of course Revel was in love with her. What gentleman with the use of his wits would not be?
“I wonder if she has formally given your papa his congé,” was Mrs. Marchant’s next concern. “If she is at all nice, she would have let him know before appearing in public with Lord Revel. I wager your papa has been stewing in his shame for hours.” Her gleeful smile showed total satisfaction with this.
The tea came, and the conversation continued, covering the same ground, with slight variations. The pot was still warm, when the knocker sounded, bringing conversation to a halt.
A chilly breeze and the echo of a muted conversation came to the ladies from the open doorway, while they all strained their ears to discover if the voice was Mr. Marchant’s. Soon Crimshaw came to put them out of their suspense,
“A note for you, madam,” he said, handing Mrs. Marchant a letter.
Her cheeks blanched, throwing into prominence two spots of pink rouge so carefully applied that it looked almost natural. She opened the note with trembling fingers. “It is from your papa,” she announced in hushed accents. Her staring eyes devoured the page greedily.
“Will there be a reply, madam?” Crimshaw enquired. “The footman is waiting.”
“Hush, Crimshaw,” she said, without glancing up from the page. After a cursory reading, she looked up. A frown pleated her brow. The apology was abject enough to please her; the pleading for mercy and another chance were all that she could wish. What was lacking was any mention of a diamond bracelet. Did Lyle think he had only to hang his head and tug his forelock and all would be well? She could hold out until the diamonds were forthcoming, now that Revel had removed the threat of Mrs. Gardener.
“Madam?” Crimshaw repeated.
