‘Oh yes.’
‘Good. Which reminds me, you had better saunter along to Celestine’s or whichever modiste you prefer to patronise, and rig yourself out for the Season. If you have been in Huntingdonshire these few years past you will want to add to your wardrobe, and of course as you are a married lady you have a far wider choice of apparel. Perhaps, if you are not exhausted by a morning in the warehouses, you might look this afternoon.’ They turned into Manchester Square. ‘But after you have changed out of your habit, come to my bedchamber, and I will show you your other wedding gift.’
She blinked, and he cleared his throat.
‘I mean the other gift I bought for you. It was not some ploy, I swear.’
They both coloured and then laughed at each other, and it was a couple in a decidedly good mood with each other who halted in front of Ledbury House. He dismounted as a servant came swiftly from the house to hold his horse, and then held up his arms to take his wife by the waist as she lifted her leg over the pommel, and assisted her to the ground, where they stood close a fraction longer than was necessary. They walked up the shallow steps together and Syde bowed them into the house.
‘As soon as you are changed, remember.’
‘Yes, my lord. And thank you for the ride, and for Something.’ She laughed. ‘I really ought to think of another name before that becomes a habit.’
She lifted the hem of her skirts and went upstairs with a curious feeling mixed of elation and trepidation, and rang the bell for Wootton with some vehemence.
That worthy eyed her mistress with an understanding born of long years’ service.
‘Now, my lady, do not get yourself all of a doodah. The green gown and the russet pelisse for traipsing about furnishing houses, yes?’ She was a voice of calm.
‘Yes, but with the sable tippet I think. And after luncheon I will be going to Conduit Street to look at gowns.’
‘When none of yours are a mite worn?’
‘The evening gowns are all suitable for younger girls, unmarried. My lord says I should purchase some new ones to go with my new estate.’
‘And how fast does money fly through fingers?’ Wootton shook her head. ‘What with curtains and papers and now gowns, and what his lordship spent upon his stable, I’d be surprised if there is three ha’pence to rub together by the end of the Season.’
Kitty laughed off this doom-laden prognosis.
*
Ten minutes later Kitty knocked shyly at her lord’s door. His voice bid her enter, and she found him putting the finishing folds to his neckcloth. Whicham disappeared into the dressing room like a benevolent wraith, and the earl turned, and then stood.
‘Now, having given you “Something”, I have Something Else for you.’ He lifted the lid of a velvet case that lay upon the dressing chest. A sapphire drop attached to a necklet of milky pearls glistened in the silk lining. ‘I think this will suit you admirably.’
Kitty breathed out a long ‘oh’ of delight.
‘But it is beautiful.’
‘So when you look for a gown for our party, find something that goes with this, for me.’ He added the last two words as he lifted the pendant from its case and draped it over his hand.
‘“Thank you” seems a very mild response, my lord.’
‘You could always show your appreciation with a kiss.’ His eyes had a glitter to them.
‘Would that not be rather forward?’
‘Not in this instance.’ Seeing her look a little shy he shut his eyes and puckered his lips in a very theatrical manner, which made her giggle. Very gingerly, she put her hands to his cheeks, drew down his head, and kissed him, lightly. He opened one eye.
‘That was not too terrible, was it?’
‘No.’
‘But it was a little half-hearted, and this is a big sapphire.’ His voice cajoled. It was not quite serious, not quite demanding. He shut his eye again.
She took a deep breath, but as her lips met his, his free hand went about her waist, and the kiss was most certainly not ‘half-hearted’. She emerged from it rather flustered.
‘Do not tell me you disliked that. I did not,’ he murmured.
‘No, but… Does “seduction” have to be so swift? I fear “being swept off my feet” may be literal.’
‘Am I rushing you? I am sorry, but you see I am new to the virtue of “patience”, my love.’
‘Do not call me that,’ she whispered. ‘Not until, or unless, you mean it. I have little doubt it is a term you have used often enough, but have you ever truly loved anyone?’
‘Yes, but then I was a small child so I do not think you would count it.’ There was no laughter in his voice now. He paused, and changed the subject. ‘Since I am so precipitate a lover, might I suggest we set forth upon your shopping expedition, so that your bedchamber can be made fit for inhabitation as soon as possible. You will grant me that, yes?’
‘I will. Be as patient as you can be… George.’
It was the first time she had used his name since the marriage ceremony, and it felt odd, but not unpleasant to use it. He raised her hand to his lips.
‘Thank you. I think the bedchamber an excellent location to dispense with formality, my… dear wife. We will put the gems away and I will put on my coat and then behold me at your disposal to approve your choices for this house, and curtains for home, yes?’
‘I like it that you call Melling Hall home. It felt like home to me. I have the measurements for the curtains required.’
‘Does that include your bedchamber? When you were ill I realised just how dashed gloomy the room was.’
‘I did have measurements taken, but was not sure you would agree, and you showed a marked lack of interest at that time. You just told me to present the bills.’
‘Did I? How remiss of me, but then you see, I did not have a reason to be interested. Now I do.’
*
It could not be said Lord Ledbury was much enamoured of staring at damasks and velvets, though he took a little more interest in the wallpapers. The ornate florals which were placed before them at the mention of a lady’s bedchamber were nearly as repellent as the lilac roses, but eventually Kitty spotted one in a stripe which had a design of small, light green ivy leaves between pale gold stripes.
‘Now that would be more restful, and cheerful also. The chinoiserie ones would have me trying to create a story in the pictures, or counting how many pagodas I could see. Pale gold damask for the curtains and bed hangings and a daybed in ivory like the background. I saw just the thing in the last warehouse. Not too feminine for you, my lord?’
‘Nothing intrusive. I confess I was not intending to spend my time admiring the decoration.’ His voice dropped, and he whispered in her ear. ‘I am rather more interested in what will be in the bed than on it.’
‘Ssssh. You are meant to be helping, my lord, and that suggestion is not helpful.’
‘No? I have a far better one, but perhaps not for here, or now.’ He was enjoying himself, watching her unfurl at his flirtation. ‘Now, let us arrange for them to come and measure how much paper we need, and then back to order the damask stuff and we are finished?’ He sounded hopeful.
‘My lord, I discharge you from your duty. You have done as you said. I think I can make the selections of remaining fabrics alone.’
‘You are sure?’
‘I am, sir. I have tried your patience enough. I shall return in time to change for dinner. Until then I will move from the decoration of houses to that of my person. If you will leave me the barouche?’
‘With pleasure, my dear.’ He took her gloved hand, bent over it with grace, and made what to his lady looked like a relieved escape. Her lips twitched.
*
Having gained her lord’s general approval for the bedroom fabrics, Kitty did not rush her choosing of the particular design she felt most suited to her chamber, and spent a happy half hour among the damasks. She then directed the coachman to drive her to Conduit Street. As a debut
ante she had felt as if she were a mannequin, for what she wore was largely the choice of Lady Topcliffe, whose opinions were unshakeable. She had never shown to advantage in snowy muslins and pale pinks, and had discarded them once returned to Huntingdonshire, where ball gowns were rarely needed. This was her chance to wear what she felt suited her, and her early delight was soon overcome by the sheer variety from which she had to choose. The gowns paraded for her inspection were all exquisitely made, and looked delightful, but how many would look as good upon her own person? She was becoming quite confused when she heard her name.
‘Kitty! My dear!’
She turned. A tall young woman with a voluptuous bosom had entered the premises.
‘Good grief, Charlotte?’
Lady Rowington was a pretty creature with fair hair that admirers, of whom there were many, likened to spun gold. She had made a match which was not the most stunning, but which had undoubtedly been based upon mutual adoration. She had been Kitty’s closest friend in her first Season, but been absent through impending maternity during her second, and had, as Kitty knew well, presented her lord with a third child at New Year.
‘This is wonderful, but… I had not thought you would be in London so soon after… Are you here just for a gown or…’ Thoughts jumbled in Kitty’s head.
Charlotte Rowington laughed, but then pulled a wry face.
‘I am here for the Season, though not entirely through choice. You know half my gowns do not fit me yet. It is terribly bad for the figure, maternity, it must be said. It broke my heart to leave little Frederick, and Emily and Baby, but alas, Lucy has to be presented, and my Aunt Walsham is laid up with her arthritis.’
‘Lucy? Oh yes, of course, your sister.’
‘She should have come out last year, but when Mama was so ill and then…’
‘Yes, I am sorry, it must have been very hard.’
‘I think for Lucy far more than me. You see, I have Rowington, and the children, and she was still at home, and Papa only died in the November. I think it crushed her, truly I do, losing both parents so close together. I quite despair of finding her a husband this Season, for she looks so permanently sad. The thought of parties and balls and new gowns has not interested her at all. She just sits and reads terribly depressing and moral books.’ Her ladyship sighed. ‘I invited her to come with me today, but she said she had to finish a book of homilies that is due back at Hookham’s Library tomorrow. Homilies!’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Yes, but goodness me, I have not congratulated you upon your marriage. Ledbury! He is very dashing. You must tell me all about it, but not here of course. I am sure it is terribly romantic.’
Kitty smiled. ‘Terribly’ had always been Charlotte’s favourite adjective.
‘Well, you might be kind and help me choose additions to my own wardrobe. My evening gowns are outmoded or at the least not designed for “dashing young matrons”, though I do not feel very dashing.’
‘What fun.’
‘I thought so until I was faced with such choices. I am quite decided upon the ivory silk with the blue Russian bodice, because Ledbury has given me a beautiful sapphire on a pearl necklet as a wedding gift, and specified I was to find something to go with it for our own evening party, but I cannot see myself in the Berlin silk, can you?’
Instantly diverted, Lady Rowington set to contemplation of the assorted creations displayed for their pleasure. She agreed with the vendeuse that Kitty would look ‘ravishing’ in the buttermilk satin with the ruched puff sleeves and leaf-green diaper border to the hem, and made a spirited defence of a three quarter gown in gold spider gauze over a snow-white underskirt, so much so that in the end she decided it was just the thing for herself. At the end of two whole hours, Kitty had decided upon three evening gowns, an olive drab spencer, and a promenade dress in pale teal. She felt a little giddy with all the expenditure and readily acquiesced with her friend’s idea that she should return to take tea with her in Mount Street. She sent the carriage back to Manchester Square upon Lady Rowington assuring her that her own barouche would convey her home after ‘a delicious chat’.
Charlotte was not, at heart, a frippery young woman, but did like clothes. As she said herself, country life had many advantages, and she would happily remain at home with her children, but it was ‘terribly’ nice to have the opportunity to purchase new gowns. Kitty tried to keep her on this innocuous subject, but once alone, her friend demanded to hear the whole tale of her marriage.
‘There is not that much to tell, really. Annabel Wythall gave my brother Bidford an ultimatum, I believe, that she would not cross the threshold of his house until I left it. So he had to get rid of me. At least I cost him a pretty penny, which he would, being such a nip-farthing, resent. And Ledbury saw a good financial deal so…’
‘No. I am sorry, Kitty, but I cannot believe that, not after… You do not expect me to forget our Season together. He was your dream hero, your fantasy beau right up until…’
‘Yes, but that was all it was, a fantasy, Charlotte. Once I had seen him… like that, I knew it was just my invention using his form.’
‘And he does not know.’
‘Good God, no. Nor should he. I was young, and not worldly. I did not… understand such things.’
‘I hardly think seeing him in a compromising position with Lady Feltham in the retiring room at Devonshire House could be misunderstood, however innocent you were,’ declared Lady Rowington, with some asperity. ‘I had thought he must have reformed, declared himself redeemed by love or…’
Kitty laughed, but it was not a happy laugh.
‘He has told me he was in love once, and that was as a little boy, with his mama.’ She became serious again. ‘She died. I do not think he understands “love” as an emotion, merely as a physical act.’
Lady Rowington frowned.
‘Then why did you accept him?’
‘Because I had no choice, Charlotte, and because I am a fool also.’
‘You mean you fell in love with him, for real?’
‘In a courtship of three days from meeting to altar, no. But there is something there, something I am finding daily more loveable, something I would dearly like to love me. He is wooing me, you know.’ She blushed.
‘Wooing you? But you are his wife. Is it not a little late?’
‘He has said there is no prohibition upon a man seducing his own wife.’
‘Seducing?’
‘Seducing. Oh Charlotte, I must be realistic. He is… a rake. He will flit from woman to woman like a bee to flowers, but if I can be one of the flowers, at least for a while, some part of him will have been mine, and… Well, you have fulfilled your “wifely duty” to perfection. I think it would be easier if one was enamoured of one’s husband.’
Lady Rowington, who was still delightfully enamoured of her husband, squeezed her friend’s hand.
‘Poor Kitty. I fear by the end of the Season you will need me as a confidante.’
*
Lord Ledbury returned to his house in high good humour, which was increased by a letter from the trainer of his racing string, indicating that the promising two-year-old he had bought at the end of last season was looking in exceptional form. He partook of a light meal, wrote a letter, and was preparing to head to his club when the door was opened to Lady Yarningale. He stared at her across the hallway.
‘Good afternoon, my lord. I am come to pay my call on your sweet little wife. I told her yesterday that I would do so.’
‘I regret, ma’am,’ and his tone showed the opposite was true, ‘that she is not returned from a shopping expedition.’
‘Goodness, you are dispensing largesse for her wardrobe? How generous of you, my dear sir. And how much is she worth?’
He would dearly have liked to throw her out the front door. She clearly had no intention of departing precipitately, and was even drawing off her gloves.
‘As I said, she is not at home, nor expected back in the near future.’
‘I expect she will recall my visit and rush back. How awful if she were to miss me. I would hate her to feel at fault,’ Lady Yarningale cooed. ‘You might offer me refreshment, my lord, while I wait.’
‘I do not think we have hemlock in the house,’ he murmured. Syde, whose own opinion of the lady was remarkably accurate, overheard, and offered, in the most deadpan of tones, to ascertain if that was true. His employer cast him a look that combined a warning with laughter.
‘Ratafia, if you please.’ Lady Yarningale placed her well-shod foot on the first stair. She knew the layout of the public rooms well enough from the house’s opening with Lady Erewash as hostess, and had decided she would be much harder to dislodge from one of the saloons rather than the book room.
The earl had little choice but to follow, but he nodded to Syde.
‘Ratafia, it seems.’
The blue saloon pleased Lady Yarningale, because it was vastly inferior to her own morning room. She mentally condemned the furnishings as thirty years out of date. Without waiting to be asked, she sat upon a sofa, and patted the seat next to her invitingly. Lord Ledbury ignored this, and stood before the fire, his expression not welcoming.
‘You are wasting your time, Louisa. My wife will not be back for hours.’
‘I need not be wasting my time at all then, George. “Hours” has always been plenty of time for us.’ She threw him a sultry look, and smoothed a slight crease from her skirt, running her hand along her thigh. He wondered how he could ever have wanted her.
‘I am a married man, as I told you yesterday, and I really do not think my wife will be returning any call you may make. In fact, I can guarantee that she will not.’
‘Oh, did you tell her about us, or did some kindly soul inform her?’
‘I told her. My wife knows my past.’
‘All of it? Surely you did not go into detail? I may blush.’
‘Are you capable of that?’
‘I am capable of far more than you give me credit for, my lord.’ Her smile was far from pleasant.
The Devil You Know Page 12
