by Sandra Heath
Lord Frederick rose to the bait. “You’re throwing a hundred guineas away, dear boy, but if that’s the way you wish it, here’s my hand on the wager.”
Evidently they shook hands, for there was a brief silence, and then Algernon spoke again. “Mind you, although I’m prepared to bet upon the Bird of Paradise’s spirit, I’m not so rash where the Carlisle is concerned.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Well, La Jordan may be bold enough to sneak into the society ball, but I doubt very much if her own bal masque will be similarly infiltrated by the chatelaine of Carlisle House.”
“As I said earlier, the little Carlisle had spirit enough to accuse Fane to his face, so why should she not show a similar spirit by secretly attending the Cyprian’s ball. I have a hundred guineas that say she will.”
Algernon chuckled. “My dear fellow, you’re getting quite carried away.”
“I’m prepared to be public about it. Well, as public as White’s betting book could ever be,” qualified Lord Frederick.
“You’re that sure of yourself?”
“Why not? I truly believe that Linnet Carlisle will, if she finds out about La Jordan’s activities, pay her back in kind.”
Algernon grunted. “I look forward to seeing the outcome. Mind you, I wouldn’t mind a timely peek at White’s book, anyway, for it always makes illuminating reading. For instance, did you know that Poky Withington fancies his chances with no less a paragon than Lady Hartley?”
Lord Frederick gave a guffaw of disbelief. “Pull the other one!”
“It’s true, I tell you. He’s actually laying odds on his success.”
“But she can’t stand the sight of him!”
Algernon chuckled. “That’s very true, but with Freddy Grainger so abruptly off the scene, who knows what might transpire?”
Lord Frederick sniffed. “Who knows, indeed, but I’d rather put my money on a certain gentleman poet.”
“Coleridge? Never.”
Lord Frederick sniffed again. “The ladies appear to find him to their taste.”
“Aye, but not Lady Hartley. You mark my words.” Algernon was quite firm.
“You weren’t at the Holland House ball. I tell you, she spent an unconscionable length of time in his company,” insisted Lord Frederick.
“I’m also informed that she spent a considerable time with Fane. Are you going to tell me that he is assured of success with her?” Algernon laughed. “On reflection, maybe he would be so assured, if he wished to be, but it’s my opinion he barely knows she exists. Anyway, we’ve supposed this and supposed that, so perhaps it’s time we removed ourselves to the betting book and made it all official, so to speak.”
“Well, it’ll be more entertaining than these dusty lumps of stone,” agreed Lord Frederick.
Laughing together, they left the room, and at last Linnet and Benedict could emerge from the alcove. Benedict’s lips were a thin line of fury, and his eyes were cold and very bright. Linnet was trembling, for what she’d overheard had both infuriated and upset her. Judith Jordan’s parting words suddenly returned to her, their meaning now clear. You’ve become something of a thorn in my side of late, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to deal with you. À bientôt, ma chère, you’ll soon be hearing a great deal more of me, and I don’t think you’ll like any of it.
The demi-mondaine had embarked upon a campaign against her, intending to make her the laughingstock of society. And why? Because of jealousy over Nicholas. Try as she would, Linnet could think of no other explanation.
Benedict went to one of the trestles, crashing his fist down so furiously that the fragments of marble shook. “You shouldn’t have kept me sitting there like that! I should have taken them by their damned throats for what they said!”
“I needed to know what she was up to.”
He turned sharply. “You say that as if you half-expected something like this.”
She lowered her eyes guiltily. “I didn’t know what she intended to do, just that she threatened me with something of the sort.”
He stared at her. “You’ve spoken to her?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
She drew a long breath. “When I went to Schomberg House. She waylaid me in the tearoom.”
“What did she say?” he demanded.
“Just that I was a thorn in her side and that I’d soon hear more of her. She said I wouldn’t like what I heard. She was right; I don’t.”
“What else did she say?”
“Nothing of consequence.” She turned away.
“This is all because of Fane, isn’t it?”
“It has to be. What else is there between Judith Jordan and me? She can’t have liked it very much that he called on me on my return.” Linnet sighed. “Oh, how amused he must be by this.”
“He won’t be amused when I call him out.”
Linnet’s eyes widened in horror as she turned quickly back to him. “Oh, no, Benedict, you mustn’t!”
“You heard what they said, he agreed that that woman is capable of trying to attend our ball. He’s in on all her spiteful activities, Linnet.”
She lowered her glance, for that part of it all hurt her more than anything, but then she met his eyes again. “Promise me you won’t be foolish enough to call Nicholas out. You heard what Mr. Halliday said a moment ago.”
“That Fane is too handy with sword and pistol?”
“Yes.”
“Linnet, my honor demands…”
“And my love demands that you remain safe,” she interrupted quickly. “You’ve heard the old saying that sticks and stones will break one’s bones, but names will never hurt one? I can endure Judith Jordan’s spiteful stories; indeed, I intend to treat them with the contempt they deserve. Her barbs can only work if they’re seen to find their target.”
“Even so…”
“Please, Benedict. For me?”
He hesitated, and at last he smiled. “Very well, but only because you ask it of me.”
“I know.” She went to him, reaching up to kiss his cheek.
He held her close for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me that Judith Jordan had approached you?”
“Because I wished to forget all about it, just as I wish now to forget about her foolish stories.” She drew away. “But I don’t intend to forget her threat to attend the ball. That creature will not get in, that I can promise you.”
“Do I see the glint of battle in your eye?”
“That demirep isn’t going to set foot in my house, and she certainly isn’t going to purloin a trophy to prove to society how artful and audacious she’s been!”
He smiled a little, tilting her lips toward his. “Forget about the Bird of Paradise, my darling,” he murmured, kissing her very softly, “and let us think of more agreeable matters instead. Our nuptials, for example. The wedding must be soon, sweetheart, before I expire of passion.”
“It will be soon,” she whispered, closing her eyes as he kissed her again.
He drew gently away, then. “Perhaps we’d better rejoin the rest of the press, or I might feel obliged to give in to my base desires.”
He took her hand and they left the room, to find Mary still waiting patiently outside.
As they descended through the building, it seemed to Linnet that the atmosphere had changed. Was she being oversensitive because of the conversation she and Benedict had overheard, or were people glancing at her and whispering together? As she and Benedict examined the exhibition, however, she realized that she was indeed being subjected to a little more scrutiny than usual. She could see Algernon Halliday and Lord Frederick, who had yet to leave for White’s, and knew they’d been spreading Judith Jordan’s tales to whomever they met. How long had the Bird of Paradise’s spiteful stories been circulating? A day? Two? Since the meeting at Schomberg House, or before? Just how much amusement was being had throughout society at her expense?
She held her chin high and pretended to be sublimely indiffe
rent to anything that was going on around her, but the undercurrents infuriated her beyond belief. Just let that odious Cyprian attempt to enter Carlisle House on the night of the ball! Just let her!
Chapter 14
For the next week Judith’s scurrilous tales continued to circulate, and were generally so amusing that they kept society vastly entertained, the ladies as well as the gentlemen. If Linnet had indeed endured so many mishaps, then she would have been battered and bruised beyond belief, for she was variously described as having had a sash window close upon her while she was leaning out to admire a handsome guards officer riding by; having been doused with a bucket of water by a gentleman who thought she was a burglar; had the train of a gown ripped from hem to waistline by a nail, leaving only a petticoat to hide her modesty; and had her foot stepped upon by a horse so that she’d had to limp her way through an entire evening at Almack’s.
The fact that all of these things were patently untrue didn’t seem to make any difference, and, unbelievingly, even those who’d been at Almack’s that particular night, and who’d actually spoken to her, still believed the story to be fact. It was quite incredible, and most frustrating, for it was bad enough to have to endure the general mirth, but totally insupportable that people should be foolish enough to give credence to the endless calumnies.
Other stories emanated from Portman Street as well, and Linnet found them even more intolerable, for they made her uncomfortably aware that the Bird of Paradise appeared to possess a great deal of detailed information concerning the arrangements for the betrothal ball. First of all, word got out that the Cyprian had engaged Herr Heller’s Ensemble for her masked ball, and then that she’d ordered every white rose in London’s market gardens—pure white, of course—in order to fill her house with as many blooms as possible. Finally, there was the matter of poking fun at Venetia’s idea of a column of red roses, with silver unicorns leaping out from the top; Judith let it be known that a similar column would spring up from her ballroom floor, only it would consist of virginal white plumes surmounted by golden poodles!
This, together with the fact that there was now considerable betting at White’s on whether or not the demi-mondaine would manage to attend the Carlisle House ball and steal a memento of the occasion, made Linnet absolutely furious, and she was utterly determined that the circumstance didn’t exist under which a creature like Judith Jordan would cock such an insufferable snook at her, Linnet’s, expense. All possible safeguards were to be employed on the night, and Sommers was issued with minute instructions concerning the Cyprian’s exclusion. If the Bird of Paradise was foolish enough to arrive at the door of Carlisle House, she’d have her elaborate wings severely clipped!
Linnet was equally determined that Judith wouldn’t have the satisfaction of knowing the effect her odious campaign was having upon her victim, and so she endured it all with a smiling face, even finding the spirit to laugh in public at some of the stories. She took some unexpected pleasure in this last, for she knew it would annoy the Cyprian, but it was still difficult to do when in reality she was so upset about the whole thing. She was also hurt, for it became more and more and more clear that Nicholas was frequently present at the initial telling of each outrageous tale. How he must be basking in the knowledge that it was all on his account!
It was impossible to keep the stories from Great-Aunt Minton, who first heard them from her friend, Lady Anne. Much shocked and outraged that a vulgar and immoral creature like the Bird of Paradise should presume to take Linnet’s name in vain, the old lady always spoke up in her great-niece’s defense when the occasion arose, and woe betide anyone who had the lack of wisdom to laugh at one of the stories when she was present.
Great-Aunt Minton’s opinion of Nicholas sank even further. She now considered him to be quite beyond redemption, and a blot upon the good name of the Fenton family. Linnet knew that it was of his grandfather that her great-aunt was thinking, for there was now no doubt in her mind that in her youth, Miss Edith Minton had been head-over-heels in love with the earlier Lord Fane. Linnet would dearly have liked to probe further into her great-aunt’s past, but it was clearly a closed subject.
The old lady’s regard for Benedict didn’t show any improvement either. She wasn’t impressed when told of the house in North Audley Street, for as she pointed out to Linnet, he wasn’t actually going to live it yet, but had merely produced yet another delay. If he’d purchased it and moved in straightaway, then the old lady might have conceded a point or two, but as it was, he remained in her black books, so much so that she wasn’t even impressed when she learned of his wish to call Nicholas out. In the old lady’s opinion, he’d mentioned his angry intentions to Linnet in the firm knowledge that she’d plead with him to desist, and that if it had actually come to the point when he’d had to carry out his threat, he’d have run the proverbial mile! Linnet had merely sighed, and said nothing more, for there was no reasoning with her great-aunt where Benedict was concerned.
With so much happening, to say nothing of the continuing preparations for the ball itself, Linnet was quite weary by the Thursday that she and Great-Aunt Minton were expected to dine at Venetia’s house in Fane Crescent. When the invitation had been relayed to her great-aunt, Linnet hadn’t really expected her to accept, given her low opinion of both Venetia and Benedict, but to her surprise the old lady had agreed to attend.
As the town carriage drew up in the courtyard in readiness to drive them both to Fane Crescent, Linnet was almost relieved to be leaving the house. The ball was to take place the following evening, and preparations were in full swing. Venetia’s silver unicorns had been delivered, and littered the entrance hall. Soon there would be more, for Venetia had had more new ideas for the decorations. The first score of rose baskets had also arrived, and the sound of hammering echoed throughout the building as alterations were made to the orchestra’s apse in the ballroom. Mayhem reigned in Carlisle House, and the peace and quiet of one of Venetians elegant little dinner parties seemed a positive Utopia.
The perfect summer weather continued unabated, and it was another warm, sunny evening as they set off in the town carriage. The team’s hooves clattered pleasantly on the courtyard cobbles as the coachman maneuvered the vehicle toward the gates, and out into the street.
Linnet wore her favorite apple-green silk gown, and with it her emerald necklace and earrings. Her dark-red hair was swept up into a delightful loose knot that seemed as if it must surely tumble down into a profusion of curls at any moment, and her eyes seemed very large, soft, and brown. She wore long white gloves, with satin slippers dyed to match the gown, and she toyed with the golden strings of her spangled reticule, for she was still very uneasy indeed about setting foot in what was most definitely Nicholas, Lord Fane’s lair.
Opposite her, her great-aunt was splendid in damson taffeta, with aigrettes in her powdered hair. Her shawl and elbow-length fingerless mittens were made of fine beige lace, and she carried a black velvet reticule that was looped over her wrist by a silver chain.
The carriage drove north along John Street, and Linnet’s heart began to beat more swiftly. Soon the lodge and gates of Fane Crescent and Fane House would appear ahead. How she wished Venetia had chosen another fashionable address, any other fashionable address, but there was no gainsaying that to be able to boast a residence there was the equivalent of a permanent voucher to Almack’s.
Great-Aunt Minton observed Linnet’s face for a long moment. “I must say that I’m curious as to what I will find at Lady Hartley’s.”
“Find? What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m interested to discover any evidence that Mr. Gresham does indeed possess funds of his own.”
“Is that the reason you’ve accepted tonight’s invitation?”
“Yes.”
“Well, at least you’re honest about it,” replied Linnet dryly.
“Which is more than can be said of Mr. Gresham,” came the quick response.
“Oh, Great-Au
nt…”
“Don’t you ‘oh, Great-Aunt’ me. My intuition tells me that your intended husband is a fraud, and I shall not rest until I’ve exposed him. I told you that I’d do my utmost to prevent this match, and I meant it.”
“Isn’t it a little underhand to accept poor Venetia’s invitation, simply so that you can work against her brother if you can?” inquired Linnet a little trenchantly.
“What nonsense, it’s the only sensible thing to do,” replied the other, without conscience.
Linnet fell silent, glancing ahead along John Street to see the gates and lodge of Fane Crescent and Fane House, but as the carriage drew closer, it became apparent that gaining actual access to the crescent was going to be impossible. The drive into Fane House was clear, but the drive into Fane Crescent was completely blocked by a landau that had shed a wheel. The rather restive team of four bays was being unharnessed, and several men were examining the almost overturned vehicle, deciding how best to remove it from the roadway. The lodgekeeper, who had been alerted to expect Linnet’s carriage, was most apologetic, hastening to advise her that access to the crescent could be obtained by driving around through Fane House, joining the crescent at the other end, beyond the central garden. Great-Aunt Minton wouldn’t countenance this. Actually drive past the frontage of Fane House? Never! No, she and Linnet would walk across the sunken garden and up the steps that were almost opposite Venetia’s house, half-way along the crescent.
The lodgekeeper continued to apologize, hastening to open the carriage door for them to alight, and assuring them that the way would be clear by the time they wished to leave again. He escorted them past the broken-down vehicle, and into the sunken garden, where they told him they would prefer to go the rest of the short distance alone.
As they walked slowly across the garden, the paths of which radiated from the central area where the newly-erected equestrian statue of Nicholas’s grandfather stood among the trees, Linnet couldn’t help looking toward the windows of Fane House. Her gaze was drawn toward the drawing room, and with something of a jolt she found herself gazing into Nicholas’s eyes as he chose that very moment to stand there to look out. She looked quickly away, walking on at her aunt’s side without glancing again toward the house.