"Henrietta, you know I love you dearly, but if you answer my questions with a faint 'naturally!' one more time, I shall be forced to hit you over the head with my half boots," said Cordelia, as close to losing her temper with her friend as she had ever been.
Henrietta startled, and then flashed Cordelia an apologetic smile. "I'm being very rude, aren't I? Will you believe me if I claim it's because I'm concentrating on the horses?"
"No, for not only is Rotten Row much quieter than usual, I've seen you hunt the squirrel in this carriage so I'm well aware of your capabilities as a driver."
"I can hide nothing from you, can I?" laughed her friend. "Very well - it's because I'm an odious companion whose thoughts are tumbling faster than she can keep up with. Am I forgiven?"
"Only if you stop daydreaming, you silly goose," said Cordelia. "If you really are compelled to mull over your thoughts, at least consider sharing them with me so that I do not need to undo my boots and fling them at you. Besides, I'm good at solving problems.”
It was ten minutes to the Fashionable Hour, and the two ladies were taking a drive together in Lady Cottingham's famous red phaeton, both to see and be seen as they slowly made their way through Hyde Park. Cordelia had dressed according to the carriage and was rather pleased with the resulting ensemble. Her red spencer was fashioned after the uniforms of the 1st Foot, with a plain front decorated only with large brass buttons, but with a high collar of blue velvet trimmed with gold brocade that reached to her ears, and fancy epaulets on the shoulders that proclaimed her rank to be somewhat superior to Lord Wellington himself. She'd opted for a black shako trimmed with a red ostrich plume to sit at a jaunty angle on her rich locks, while the skirts of her walking dress were of a dove grey muslin that further echoed the military inspiration behind her ensemble. Henrietta, ravishing in a pelisse of royal blue with a matching stove pipe bonnet trimmed with silver ribbons, was always going to draw eyes her way, and Cordelia was not above feeling some smug pride that just as many people were looking in her direction as were studying the fashionable Lady Cottingham.
Her plan to capture the attention of the Ton - and a potential husband - through an exquisite sense of style and taste seemed to be off to a good start. True, none of the men who ogled at her were of the type she would consider marrying, but still.
"It's my cousin, Jacques," said Henrietta, obviously deciding to trust Cordelia with her thoughts. "I was so sure that he'd be over the moon to meet his English family, and that he would feel at home from the moment he arrived that I never considered that he might not be comfortable."
"Is that Monsieur Gautereau? Christopher's friend from Montreal?" asked Cordy. "I met them both yesterday when I visited Lord and Lady Arthur. I confess that I'm not sure how he is related to you, and Mr Douglas did not make it any clearer. I'm afraid that I might have accidentally implied that your cousin was a natural member of the family, but thankfully he didn't take offense."
Henrietta smiled and shook her head. "Only you could question someone's parentage and not get into a heap of trouble. Jacques is a very distant relative, for the old Marquis is our last common ancestor, but you know how much family means to us, with there being so few; especially to Grandpapa."
"So you hoped that Monsieur Gautereau would be a young protege for Lord Shropshire, now he doesn't have you to fuss over?" asked Cordy. “And you did not share this plan with your cousin?”
Henrietta sighed. "You always understand everything so well, dearest. I know Grandpapa is in his eighties, but since I married it's as though he's grown old. I thought discovering Jacques would light that fire in him again, give him someone to invest in. I assumed that my cousin would appreciate such condescension from a Marquis, but it seems that Jacques is not much impressed with the English aristocracy."
Cordelia considered the matter.
"Lord Shropshire doesn't strike me as the type to need a person to keep him entertained, you know. Father says that he still delivers passionate speeches in the Lords, and is up to the snuff on every issue."
There was a slight pause in their conversation as they exchanged brief greetings with some acquaintances passing the other direction in a splendid curricle.
"Perhaps, but it's more than that," said Henrietta. The young Baroness paused and bit down hard onto her lip. Cordelia cocked her head to one side, expecting her friend to share a deep secret with her, but whatever was occupying Henrietta's mind, she evidently decided that she was not at liberty to discuss it with her friends.
Cordy felt a pang of disappointment, and couldn't help the bitter thought that, if she were a married lady of the Ton, then Henrietta would probably have shared her confidence.
"Well, I don't suppose it matters," said Henrietta with false brightness. "All I can do is set about making sure that Jacques discovers an innate passion for England.”
“Please don’t think I am being argumentative, my dear, but why would he?” asked Cordelia, creasing her brows up in thought. “He is French-Canadian, is he not? I would expect he is very fond of his home, and while he must be enjoying his visit, he is likely pining for Montreal.”
“Do you think so?” said Henrietta, looking rather appalled at this idea. “Good grief, this is going to be so much harder than I imagined.”
Cordelia did not have time to question the origins of this odd statement, for they were hailed by Lady Warren, who was riding in a rather common looking barouche, accompanied by her older spinster sister. They passed the time of day briefly, complemented each other, and promised to attend upcoming parties at one another’s homes. It did not escape Cordy’s notice that Miss Burke, whose brown hair was streaked with grey about the temples, did not speak, or even look over at her or Henrietta. She stared resolutely at the back of the coachman’s coat, not even attempting to be part of the conversation.
Is that my fate? thought Cordelia, feeling a lump form in her throat. To be an unwanted and ignored part of the family, passed between my sisters after their marriages, like an heirloom that no one likes but keeps out of duty?
She barely remembered to take her leave as Henrietta set the horses to, shuddering as though a ghost had passed over her grave.
“Dearest, are you well?” asked Henrietta. “I know Lady Warren and Miss Burke are as dull as dishwater, but you always excel at polite conversation, even if you cannot stand to be in the same vicinity as the person you are talking with.”
Cordelia adjusted the fingers of her gloves, not quite trusting herself to look directly at her friend. It seemed to her that if she truly wished to avoid the fate of a spinster aunt, then she would need some help to find the perfect man.
“I have made the decision that I shall marry before the Season is out,” she declared. “I know how that sounds, but I’m quite set on the matter. I have decided on my requirements for a husband – respectable, kind, a home in one of the tolerable counties, and of moderate fortune or better – and plan to make him fall in love with me within the next few weeks. What on earth do you mean by laughing like that?”
“Only that you could snap your fingers and have an army of eligible men turn up if those were truly your only requirements,” snorted Henrietta.
“I was rather thinking that Christopher and I suit rather well,” replied Cordy, her teeth grinding together even as she spoke.
"My brother-in-law?" said Henrietta, sounding almost incredulous. "Lady Cordelia Delby, you are not trying to tell me that after a chance meeting with Christopher you have set your cap at him?"
"Nothing so vulgar as that," said Cordelia, nodding at Lady Flamborough as the older woman promenaded nearby with someone she didn’t recognise. "I simply meant that his time in Montreal has been good for him, and that Mr Douglas seemed pleased to see me again."
"Cordelia, every man considering marriage is always pleased to see you," replied her friend with more frankness than tact, "and a great deal of the married ones enjoy half an hour in your company as well - at least until Lord Delby starts staring dagg
ers at them!"
"They might enjoy my consequence, but I don't believe there's a single one who considers me as a wife," scoffed Cordelia.
"You're a fool, dearest one," said Henrietta without any malice. "You're the greatest prize on the matrimonial market, but with the luxury of being able to choose your match instead of having to accept the highest bidder. I can think of ten eligible men who would marry you tomorrow, all of whom are better than Christopher Douglas."
Cordelia raised a brow. "Really? Name them."
"Mr Percival," Henrietta shot back. "Or there's Lord Snowley."
"Perry has never shown the slightest partiality to me, and as for Snowley - good grief, do you think my father would countenance that match?"
"There's the Putney brothers."
"Charles is married, and the other two would as lief flirt with a milkmaid as they would with me. Harry, for example, is a delightful wretch, but I would not want to marry a man who compares my eyes to the stars one moment, and then proceeds to inform Bella Colbourne that his greatest regret was not falling in love with her before she was married!”
Henrietta rolled her eyes. "Now you're just being picky."
"And you've run out of suggestions," retorted Cordelia, not sure whether to be amused or offended by the sheepish grin on her friend's face.
"Well I can think of ten, but I don't think you would regard them any higher than those mentioned. Your list, whether you admit it or not, is a lot longer than just the criteria you mentioned."
Cordelia frowned, but then relaxed her shoulders with a weary sigh. "You are right, I suppose. But Henry, you can have no notion what it is like to not find anyone to whom one is particularly partial, but then be forced to sit and watch one's friends all fall in love and marry."
"Sounds galling.”
"I know you're mocking me," said Cordelia without any bitterness, "but when it comes down to it, dearest, you have loved Cottingham since you were a child. Just because he was a bit of an idiot for a while doesn't change that fact; even Devenish could not sway you. Devenish, of all people! Lord Cottingham is the only person you have ever considered marrying, or have ever loved more than half."
"It sounds so boring when you put it like that," said Henrietta, a tiny smile playing on her lips. "but you must not tell James. It does him good to think that he almost lost me to another, and it reminds him not to take me for granted."
"Are all the Douglas men constant, do you think?" asked Cordelia, very carefully keeping her eyes fixed on the path to look for acquaintances so that she did not need to meet her friend's sharp gaze.
"Not in the least," said Henrietta, which startled Cordy enough to make her turn her head around in surprise. "I'm not a fool, dearest. I know you're talking about my brother-in-law."
"I was speaking in general!" Cordelia protested, but Henrietta rolled her eyes in response.
"There are literally two Douglas men in your acquaintance, one of whom is married to me."
"Ugh, fine. I was talking about your brother-in-law, but I do not know why you should call him inconstant."
"Christopher has fallen in love at least six times that I am aware of," replied Henrietta after a moment of consideration. "The moment his eyes alight on a pretty girl who smiles in his general direction he considers himself lost, and as I understand it, he did not change this behaviour while in Montreal. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion that my cousin is harbouring hopes of a match between one of his sisters and my brother-in-law. I fear he is doomed to disappointment, however, for no matter how beautiful and wealthy Miss Gautereau is, she has the distinct disadvantage of not being in Christopher's orbit at present while several pretty heiresses are."
"I knew he'd be snapped up by some foreign beauty," muttered Cordelia under her breath.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."
"Nothing of consequence," said Cordy with a bright smile. "I was just surprised at how well Montreal had suited your brother-in-law, for he seems much more mature compared to how he was in my first Season. Almost refined. Perhaps his affection for Miss Gautereau was his calf love, and he is now ready to settle down."
The look on Henrietta's face suggested that Cordelia had taken leave of her senses, but luckily for their friendship they were hailed from the path by the object of their conversation at just that moment.
“Mr Douglas!” said Cordelia brightly as Henrietta reined in the horses and pulled her carriage to a halt. “It seems we are destined to run into each other again!”
“Lady Cordelia, a delight as always. Henrietta, oh dearest sister of mine, I’m so glad we bumped into each other! You remember Miss Clyde, of course? Oh, and here is Lord and Lady Arthur, promenading with Jacques and I. We had the stroke of good fortune to meet them at the gates, so decided to walk together.”
Cordelia forced the smile to remain on her face as the usual introductions flowed between them all. She could not help but be aware that the beautiful Miss Clyde was standing close beside Mr Douglas, her face bright and flushed with youthful exuberance.
She almost forgot to acknowledge Lord Arthur and his new wife, as they watched Lady Arthur’s stepdaughter with the eyes of amused chaperones. It was strange how Arthur Weatherly had transformed from a potential husband to an old bore in such a brief passage of time, thought Cordelia. It wasn’t as though he was dressing any less extravagantly, or had stopped all of his outrageous pranks, if the gossips were to be believed, but there was an air about him now that made it clear he was impervious to the feminine wiles of anyone but his wife, Anna.
"Pon rep, Cordy, you're cutting a dash in that outfit," said Lord Arthur by way of greeting. "Not everyone could carry off that hat, but on you it's a triumph."
Considering that he was still considered an arbiter of taste, this compliment made her preen, although she did cast a glance Christopher to see if he was paying attention.
"I designed it myself, you know, so I doubly appreciate the compliment."
"It's not a compliment, it's a complaint," said Arthur, shaking his head with despair. "It's a triumph on you because you're a diamond; on even a moderately pretty girl, it will elongate her face and make her look like a weather-beaten soldier. You're doing the men of this city no favours, Cordelia. You might not care if the young ladies all look like they were kicked out of the Guard for being too ugly, but it upsets me greatly!"
"Are you saying that you prefer to look at other ladies rather than your wife, or that you think that I, too, will turn into a grizzled infantryman by putting on that ravishing hat?" asked his wife sweetly.
Cordelia had the joy of seeing Lord Arthur go pink about the ears as he hurried to assure the love of his life that she could wear a chimney stack on her head and still be beautiful, while he was selflessly considering the good of the single gentlemen of London, and not his own appreciation for pretty things.
"Isn't that so, Douglas?" he said, appealing to the nearest man at hand. "And you, Gautereau! The French have refined taste, after all."
"He's from Quebec," replied Henrietta, her mouth twitching at the memory of a private joke.
“I think Madame Arthur turns any hat to advantage,” replied Monsieur Gautereau. The object of his gallantry gave a delighted sigh and then prodded two fingers into her husband’s ribs.
“That’s how to pay a compliment,” she told him, her eyes dancing with laughter, “and there wasn’t so much as a parrot in sight!”
"I think Cordy - I mean, Lady Cordelia, looks ravishing as always," said Christopher, glancing up at her with a smile. “After all, she’s known for being top of the trees.”
Perhaps the praise would have meant something had his eyes not immediately been drawn back to the beautiful Miss Clyde whose simple ensemble of a straw capote, daffodil spencer and white embroidered muslin dress made Cordelia feel ridiculously overdressed.
At least the young woman seemed oblivious to Christopher’s regard, for she was smiling up at Henrietta and Cordelia with very real joy, and the rest of
her attention was taken up by the ugly dog, improbably names Governess, that was snuggled in her arms. It made it impossible to dislike the girl, even if Cordy was painfully aware that Miss Lily Clyde was going to be an obstacle to her plans to catch a husband.
“I have heard so much about your skills as a driver, Lady Cottingham, and Arthur says that no one, not even the Duchess of Lexborough, can match a pair of horses as finely as you. Oh, but I was not supposed to say that, was I, in case it gets back to her Grace and she decides to play a prank on him as revenge.”
“Kate will find an excuse to play a prank on me one way or the other,” replied Lord Arthur, “but fear not, I have already secured a promise from Lady Castlereagh that I can borrow her kangaroos should I require a counter-attack.”
“Please no,” sighed his wife with weary resignation, which made everyone laugh and her husband look mulish.
“I am very pleased to learn that you like my carriage and horses,” said Henrietta to Miss Clyde in an attempt to turn the conversation to safer waters. “Grandfather designed it and had it delivered as a surprise, you know, and the horses are from his own stable, so you know they are the best pair possible, despite the claims of Lord Osbaldston!”
Cordelia, sensing that her friend was about to start boring them all to tears with her favourite arguments as to why only horses bred by the Marquis of Shropshire were worthy mounts for the aristocracy, was suddenly seized by a brilliant idea.
“It’s all well and good to tell Miss Clyde that, my dear, but why not show her instead? I will happily trade places and walk for a while, for I would very much like to get to know Lady Arthur better.”
If this disclosure surprised Lady Arthur, she was polite enough not to show it. Cordelia was somewhat gratified, however, to see that Christopher was an enthusiastic proponent of her plan.
“That’s precisely the favour I was going to beg of you, Henrietta. I’m sure Miss Clyde would enjoy the treat, and it will give you the opportunity to tell someone new all about the superiority of your Grandfather’s horses.”
The Unknown Heir: Book Nine in the Regency Romps Series Page 6