by Archer, Kate
“Now that’s a pleasant thought, not at all true, however. Lady Montague has never brooked excuses. Goodness, I remember seeing Mrs. Killion at a rout and I am quite certain she had come down with the measles. She tried to cover the rash with paint, but with very little success. It was a crowded business, but people gave her a very wide berth.”
Lily was unwilling to allow her aunt to travel down a long path regarding Mrs. Killion’s measles. To bring her back to the subject at hand, she said, “I did understand, though, that Lady Montague had been forced to retreat to Yorkshire last season.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Hemming said. “We were all delighted, I can tell you. Nobody said so, of course, but there were vague little things mentioned about forgetting to answer her letters and so forth. I have never been a part of her personal correspondence and so did not need to consider what to do on that front.”
“Then how is it,” Lily asked, her trepidation growing, “that she is come back and seems to be able to order everybody about as she did before?”
Mrs. Hemming squinted her eyes, as if she attempted to peer into the past for the answer. “I am not in possession of all the facts,” she said, “but somehow, Lord Dalton decided to back her return. He’s another nobody dares cross—he’s an earl, but he’ll step into a dukedom one of these days.”
“He’s one of the gentlemen of the pact,” Lily said softly. “How extraordinary that one of those gentlemen, with their connection to Cassandra’s husband, should choose Lady Montague’s side.”
“I do not claim to understand half of it, I assure you,” Mrs. Hemming said. “What I do understand is that it appears the lady is back and none the worse for wear. The best we can do is comply and not attract her ire. You see, dear, she’s quite harmless until you attract her ire. I’ve known Harriet these past twenty years and have been enormously successful by simply agreeing with everything she says. She knows me, but she does not think about me. She invites me to routs and such, but not to anything cozy. That is how one needs to get on with the dragon of Mayfair.”
“Perhaps this evening is only a rout,” Lily said hopefully. “We might turn up, make ourselves known to the lady, and then be off. It would be a crush and our departure would not be noticed.”
“Hmm,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I do not think it is a rout. She always has those invitations printed and sends them well in advance. This is a handwritten note. Really, I do not know what we are in for this evening, but we will go and find out. Perhaps it is a musical evening and she has decided very suddenly that she did not invite enough people, or somebody has bowed out at the last moment. Whatever it is, if it is awkward or unpleasant, we can content ourselves in the knowledge that it cannot last forever—there are only so many hours in a night.”
*
The Lords Dalton and Ashworth sat in a corner of Destin’s, drinking the owner’s remarkably strong coffee. They had belonged to the club for some years, but ever since their fathers’ pact to force them to marry, they had found it a more and more convenient spot. White’s came with the chance of running into the old fellows; Destin’s did not. It was a young man’s club and there did not seem to be a member over thirty.
“Why don’t we just beg off,” Hayes said. “There is not much Lady Montague could do about it.”
“You forget,” Dalton said, “we gave our word that we would back her. The lady drove a hard bargain in exchange for her assistance.”
“In exchange for her scheming, you mean. God, we did not even succeed.”
“We failed spectacularly. I cannot even stomach the letters Lockwood writes of his darling wife and how she’s managing his house. I cannot imagine why he thinks I wish to know how adorable she is when she is condemning a carpet.”
“One of these days, he’ll realize he should have held off, that there were still a few years left of doing as one pleases.”
“Meanwhile,” Lord Dalton said, “Cabot and Grayson have gone off to Somerset. Cabot wants to look at a baron’s horse. I suspect Grayson only wants to look at the baron’s daughter. It is just us currently in town and so we must attend Lady Montague’s card party.”
“It will be a colossal bore,” Hayes said. “I expect the wagers won’t exceed five pounds.”
“Cheer up, Ashworth. You know the sort of people Lady Montague is bound to invite. It might only be five pounds at a time, but they will all be easy marks.”
“No doubt,” Hayes said.
“Perhaps Miss Farnsworth will make an appearance and you might try to win back your ten pounds,” Lord Dalton said, with one of his rare smiles.
Hayes hid his discomfiture. He was really very tired of hearing of that blasted game. “Miss Farnsworth is a particular friend of Lady Hampton. I imagine she would be the last person Lady Montague would invite.”
Hayes thought that must please him, though he had noticed, twice now, that when he entered a house for a dinner, he looked about to see if Miss Farnsworth was in attendance. He supposed he was only eager to get their inevitable second meeting out of the way. There would be some sort of lingering embarrassment hanging over him until he could show the world that he was not in the least affected by the lady and her cards.
Chapter Five
Harriet Montague surveyed the drawing room. The usual furniture that adorned the room had been moved out and square card tables moved in. Fresh packs of cards were liberally spread throughout. On a table by the door, a small tray of expensive graphite pencils sat alongside a stack of fine paper cut into small squares for keeping scores. A sideboard had been set up that would hold all manner of cold meats, cheeses, jellies, rolls, pastries, and fruits. A tall rectangular table would be manned by a footman, ever ready to dispense Madeira, tea, orgeat, and her own special recipe cordial—“Lady M’s Restorative,” depending heavily on cinnamon and coriander.
Lady Montague smiled. She had only thought to hold the card party as an exclusive evening that might be talked about everywhere—the young lords destined to be dukes had graced the lady’s drawing room, it would be said. Those powerful gentlemen would indicate their backing by their attendance. The world need not know she’d bargained for it while they’d all been in Yorkshire. The gentlemen’s public acknowledgement would be one more step in her campaign to regain the influence she had lost over that debacle with Cassandra Knightsbridge.
She had, just the day before, been in a fury upon hearing that Lord Cabot and Lord Grayson would not attend. Lord Cabot had sent an excuse that there was a horse to be seen somewhere in the countryside. It had felt a slap in the face. That would leave her with two would-be dukes, which was not nearly as good as four.
And then, as if the Gods smiled down upon her, everything began to fall into place.
Miss Knightsbridge, now Lady Hampton, though Harriet could hardly bear to call her so, had chosen to sponsor some little chit from Surrey, a Miss Farnsworth. Harriet had not seen anything to do about that, unfortunately. She would have liked to take any opportunity to punish Lady Hampton by somehow making Miss Farnsworth uncomfortable, and yet, she had not quite dared. Her standing was still tenuous, and Lady Hampton would eventually become a duchess.
That was, she had not quite dared until two pieces of gossip came to her attention.
One—Lady Hampton was retiring to the country; it was said she was with child. The lady would not be on the scene to provide cover for her newly launched dove.
Two—Miss Farnsworth had made a fool of herself by wagering Lord Ashworth over a game of piquet. Oh, it was said she beat him handily, but that could only have been luck.
The plan to invite both Lord Ashworth and Miss Farnsworth to a card party was delicious. It would be talked about in hushed whispers. News of it would travel to Hampton’s estate and Lady Hampton would come to know that Harriet Montague had a very long memory and might even involve one’s friends. Most importantly, it was exactly the sort of thing she wished people to remember about her. She was clever, and not afraid to design a scheme when she had a m
ind.
One should not cross Lady Montague.
It would elicit a subtle fear, the sort that made people wonder what she might do next. That wonderment would fix her firmly as the arbiter she had once been. And that was the purpose of her life.
All the way back to town, Lord Montague had warned her off meddling and scheming. Fortunately, she had not taken any of his advice since the first week of their marriage. She did sometimes wonder why he went on with it.
This evening, she would promote another card game between Lord Ashworth and Miss Farnsworth, and no matter the outcome it would set the town ablaze with gossip. Lord Montague could think what he liked about it.
Harriet Montague was securely on the steps back up to her throne and she would not stumble.
*
As Lily did not have the faintest idea what sort of evening was to be held by Lady Montague, she’d chosen a dusky rose silk dress. She thought the coloring did something well for her dark hair and rather pale complexion, but most importantly it was a very simple cut with no undue adornment. She supposed it would be suitable for any sort of evening party. As well, she had taken in her aunt’s advice about Lady Montague and even if it had been a ball, she would not have chosen a dress that would be a standout. Aunt Amelia said the trick was to remain unnoticed by the lady and that was exactly what she proposed to do.
“Goodness,” Mrs. Hemming said, as their carriage barreled ever nearer to the lady’s house, “you look terrified. I ought not have said Lady Montague was the dragon of Mayfair, I think it has put visions in your head. Really, she is just an unhappy creature. She never had children and I suppose that’s led her to put all of her attention on her power in society. One should never put all one’s eggs in one basket as she has.”
Lily put her chin up and became determined to at least have the appearance of ease. After all, to appear unduly nervous might attract the lady’s attention.
She smiled to herself. Her aunt had been right, she’d invented visions of the dragon and had begun to think of herself tiptoeing past the lady’s lair.
“I have been silly, I know,” Lily said. “I don’t expect a great personage like Lady Montague will take the least notice of a simple girl from Surrey.”
“Well, here we are,” Mrs. Hemming said. “It is certainly not a rout, I see no carriages but the one just trotting away. Very strange, it appears it will be a small party and I have never been invited to one of those. In any case, it will not pay to sit here and wonder. We shall go in and discover it for ourselves.”
A stern-looking butler directed footmen to take their cloaks and led Lily and Mrs. Hemming to the drawing room.
Lady Montague rushed to greet them, the ostrich feathers planted in her hair waving in all directions as she crossed the room.
Lily felt momentarily speechless. Not only was the great lady before her, but she could see over the hostesses’ shoulder that this was to be a card party. There were people already arrived, but based on the number of tables it would indeed be an intimate evening. Worse, Lord Ashworth stood at the far end of the room. He stood next to a man with a long scar running down his cheek—Lord Dalton, she presumed. Everybody had heard of the scarred earl.
That scarred gentleman regarded her with some amusement. Lord Ashworth stared at Lily with an expression she could not unravel.
What was the meaning of it? Why had she and her aunt been invited to such a small gathering? Why had they been invited to a card party?
Lily began to wonder if Lord Ashworth had some hand in it. He had been less than pleased to lose to her at piquet and she guessed he would have been even more displeased to become aware of the talk that had gone round about it.
Was it possible that he sought to trounce her at cards and had prompted Lady Montague to arrange it?
It seemed an elaborate scheme, but Lily did not forget what Lady Montague was capable of. Further, if the lady sought the lord’s backing to reclaim her place in society, she might well agree to anything.
“Dear Mrs. Hemming,” Lady Montague said, sweeping up to them. “And this must be Miss Farnsworth.”
Lily curtsied low enough for a queen, her intention being to flatter the lady.
“Gracious, Lady Montague,” Mrs. Hemming said, “that headdress sets off your features very finely.”
Lily pressed her lips together. Apparently, her aunt had the same notion to flatter. Lily knew perfectly well that Mrs. Hemming thought ostrich feathers ridiculous outside of a court presentation. Further, Lady Montague’s features were of a heavy and broad sort and no feather could set them off to be anything other than what they were.
“Let me take you round, my dears,” Lady Montague said, grasping Lily rather firmly by the elbow.
Lily had no choice but to allow herself to be led, though she had a great urge to throw off Lady Montague and run from the house. Whatever scheme was at work here, it could not be to her benefit.
In somewhat of a daze, she was introduced to various people. They all seemed to find her of interest, in particular Mrs. Layton, who had to be persuaded to give her up. With every introduction she came closer to the far side of the drawing room. And Lord Ashworth.
Lord Montague had very civilly greeted her. Though most seemed to understand she was the lady who had challenged Lord Ashworth, he’d not seemed to know anything about her recent wager over piquet. He’d wondered if a young girl such as herself might not be bored with an evening of cards and he was under the impression that the young ladies preferred to find themselves on a ballroom floor.
Lily had not answered these opinions, though she might have responded in the affirmative. She would much prefer to find herself in a ballroom at this very moment.
She’d at least had her aunt by her side, but even that was not to last. Lady Montague very determinedly directed Mrs. Hemming to speak to Mr. Dresher. It seemed the gentleman had a number of questions about cultivating roses and Mrs. Hemming must share her expertise.
Lily was certain it was the flimsiest of excuses to get her aunt away. If one wished to speak to a person with expertise in roses, one ought to speak to one’s own gardener. Further, she was sure her aunt was one of the last people to claim special knowledge. Her garden, small in dimensions, was a most decidedly practical kitchen garden.
She felt some trepidation in the knowledge that Lady Montague wanted her separated from her aunt.
“Ah, Lord Ashworth, Lord Dalton,” Lady Montague said. “Here is Miss Farnsworth. Ashworth, I understand you are already acquainted?”
“Yes,” Lord Ashworth said.
Lily could not help but note the curtness of the reply. One would expect a gentleman to answer such a query in the manner of, Indeed, we met at so-and-so’s dinner last week, or some other pleasantry.
“Of course you have met,” Lady Montague said smoothly. “One could not avoid hearing of the wager over piquet in Lady Blakeley’s drawing room.”
“One could always try to avoid hearing of it,” Lord Dalton said quietly.
This momentarily paused the lady’s stride, but she speedily regained her footing.
“We are to be a small party this evening,” Lady Montague went on, “but that does not mean we shall be dull. After all, a rematch between our Miss Farnsworth and Lord Ashworth? Too diverting.”
“But I—” Lily stuttered.
“Do oblige me, dear,” Lady Montague said. She turned on her heel and set off to greet her other guests.
Lord Ashworth looked to Lord Dalton, who only shrugged. Lily felt rooted to the spot, mortified. This was why she and her aunt had been invited. To become some sort of entertaining spectacle for Lady Montague’s friends. Of course, there was no thought to how it might affect Miss Farnsworth.
She could see now how Lady Montague managed people and got her way. The lady did not stand still to hear an argument or opinion. She simply said what she wanted and walked away, confident she would not be defied in her wishes.
“I am afraid I will not be able to
oblige Lady Montague,” Lily said. After all, the lady could not force her to a card table. At least, she did not think so.
“You’re a brave lass, to cross the dragon,” Lord Dalton said.
“I do not mean to cross anybody,” Lily said, beginning to wonder what the precise consequences of crossing Lady Montague might be. As her aunt had explained to her, the trick to the lady was not inviting her notice, much less her ire.
“You need not cross her, I will do it,” Lord Ashworth said. “She is fully aware of my opinions about ladies and gambling. She may be made unhappy by my lack of cooperation, but she will not be surprised by it.”
Lily felt a great sense of relief wash over her. The difficulty had been effortlessly lifted from her shoulders. She would not have expected Lord Ashworth to be so helpful, but then she supposed he did not wish for another opportunity to be found wanting.
Though, what did he mean, his opinions about ladies and gambling?
“Lady Montague,” Lord Ashworth said, loud enough to get her attention. “A word.”
The lady left the party she had been speaking to and walked toward them, ostrich feathers swaying over her head. Lily thought she looked like nothing so much as a peacock strolling a lawn. A determined peacock, as it happened.
She reached them and Lord Ashworth said, “I am afraid I will have to decline your amusing scheme to once more play against Miss Farnsworth. You are aware of my opinions on females doing any serious gambling.”
“Pshaw,” Lady Montague said dismissively. “I’m sure I do not know where you get such ideas, Ashworth. Ladies do not swoon over a few pounds.”
“That is never what I said,” Lord Ashworth said.
“You said, I believe,” Lady Montague went on, “that females do not have the steady nerves necessary to be successful and they do not lose with any sort of composure.”
