However, it was not before the marquess, ever observant, had detected it. He frowned. That chit! How could she act so smug and superior to Lavinia when she had never put her mind to anything except her books. Books were all very well, but they were not so tricky to deal with or as unpredictable as human beings, particularly the male sex.
Out of the comer of her eye, Caro saw Nicholas’s expression and a conscious look spread over her face. She ducked her head, smiling at him apologetically. She looked so guilty, and her gesture was at once so candid and so disarming, that the marquess had to fight back the crack of laughter that welled up inside him. To give Caro her due, the very transparency of Lavinia’s stratagem was humorous. Heretofore, Nicholas had often reacted to Lavvy’s unabashed self-centeredness in much the same way that Caro had, finding a certain ironic amusement in it all. What the marquess was finding difficult to bear was the thought of what Caro’s impression must be of him. Though he had indulged Lavinia in her blatant pursuit of him and though it diverted him for the moment to cater to her whims, he was not the least taken in, nor was he the putty in her hands that it might seem. The marquess was very well aware that any wealthy, well-looking man would have fulfilled the countess’s needs, particularly if he were a peer of such exalted rank as the Marquess of Everleigh. He was not a little intrigued by Lavvy’s attempts to wipe out the past and recapture his interest, all of which took a certain amount of courage—a courage the marquess was inclined to admire. Dalliance with such an accomplished beauty was undeniably a pleasurable pursuit. Nonetheless, Nicholas did not wish to be regarded as a complete dupe, particularly by a mere slip of a girl. Though he could not explain exactly why Caro’s opinion was of the least importance to him, it was.
Perhaps it was because of the remarkably clear-eyed way she seemed to view things, unhampered by the prejudices and preconceptions of the ton. It was a way of seeing that was so different from that of anyone else he knew, yet so similar to his own perceptions of the world. Her judgment was hers alone and perhaps that was why it meant so much to him to have her look favorably upon him. At any rate, he had found her last expression unusually appealing. It had been self-deprecating, confiding, and, yes, almost intimate, as though the two of them were the only participants in some secret agreement.
Though beloved of his friends and the men he had commanded in the field, Nicholas Daventry had never had anyone to whom he had felt at all close or with whom he had shared anything. He realized that this special moment of rapport with Caro, though entirely novel, was rather pleasant and somehow reassuring. He had never sought out companionship before, primarily because no one had ever seemed to understand how he thought or felt. Enjoying his own ideas in private was infinitely preferable to attempting an explanation of them to an uncomprehending and unappreciative companion.
Considering this, he realized that this was not the first time he had sensed a peculiar understanding between himself and Lady Caroline Waverly. He smiled as he conjured up the picture of the Christmas Waif sitting on the stairs, with her glossy dark hair tumbled down her back, hugging her knees as she commiserated with him over her cousin. Suddenly, Nicholas felt an overwhelming urge to reassure Caro that he didn’t care in the slightest about Lavinia, that he had been responding, as any gentleman would, to a lady in obvious need of an escort, and that he was perfectly well aware of the countess’s machinations. But the opera ended and he drove the ladies home, Lavvy chattering all the way, without ever being able to say this. Frustrated, the marquess determined to clear up this misconception at the earliest possible moment.
Chapter 11
However, the next day when the marquess appeared at Grosvenor Square, it was to utter confusion. Wigmore cast a disparaging eye toward the drawing room from which emanated a babble of excited voices. “It’s Master Tony, sir,” he murmured apologetically as he led Nicholas upstairs and opened the doors upon the viscount, his two young nephews, and Lady Caroline Waverly.
“When are we going, Uncle Tony? Soon, soon?” Ceddie demanded eagerly.
“Why, tonight, I expect, lad. That is, if you wish to see the Steel Castle with Uranda the Enchanter and the pantomime called The Golden Age. “
“Oh, yes, please, sir,” the little boy breathed, scarcely able to believe the treat that was in store for them. ^
“Will we see Mr. Astley himself?” Clarence wondered.
“No, he has long since passed away, but you will see Mr. Ducrow, the most bang-up rider you could hope to see,” his uncle reassured him.
“Even in the deepest country I have heard of Mr. Ducrow,” Caro added. “It is said that he is the greatest trick equestrian the world has ever produced. I should like to know how he does it, how he manages his horses and convinces them to let him perform the feats one is always hearing of.”
“Well, of course you must come with us and see for yourself. You did say the other evening that you wished to go,” Tony declared stoutly. “And bring Miss Gray if she wishes,” he continued.
“Oh, yes, do please join us, Cousin Caro,” the boys joined in enthusiastically.
Caro blushed with pleasure, never having been able to remember the time when her presence had really been of importance to anyone. It was true that her father, who had loved her dearly, had taken her everywhere with him, but that had been different. And though she had always been most aware of his affection, she had never felt that she contributed much to any situation because she was far too young to have anything to offer. Later on, at school, the girls had been forever saying, “Oh, Caro, don’t be such a high stickler” or “Don’t be so serious,” and though they had sought her out when they needed help with their lessons, they rarely included her in any of their schoolgirl pranks. Even Lavinia, though in desperate need of Caro’s presence, had made it abundantly clear that she considered Caro herself something of a necessary bore.
But now, three faces were turned expectantly toward her, each one eager that she share the evening with them. “Why, thank you. I must first check with Lavinia to see if she needs me. If you are indeed certain you wish to include a lady in this particular outing, I should be delighted to come. I must say that when I read the description in the Times announcing the performance with the clowns, the pantomimes, and the scenery, not to mention Mr. Ducrow, I found myself quite longing to go.”
“Good, it’s settled then. Now I must be off because I told Coggeshall I would meet him at Manton’s half an hour ago. I shall be back to collect you all later.” The viscount grabbed his hat, nodded to Nicholas, and tore down the stairs at his usual breakneck speed.
“Hooray!” Ceddie exclaimed. “I’m glad you’re going, Cousin Caro. Now we shall be merry as grigs.”
A chuckle from the corner reminded them that they were not alone.
“I do beg your pardon, my lord, I was so intrigued by the prospect of the evening’s entertainment that I had quite forgot you were here,” Caro apologized.
She looked so stricken that Nicholas laughed outright. “Never mind. I recognize that a visitor such as I am is quite cast in the shade by the delights of Astley’s Amphitheater. You are always riding roughshod over my sense of consequence, are you not, Lady Caroline? No doubt it is good for my soul. However, I . . .”
Whatever the marquess was feeling was lost in a whish of skirts, the scent of perfume, and the countess’s silvery tones. “Nicholas, how delightful! Wigmore just informed me that you had arrived.” Catching sight of the room’s other occupants, Lavvy looked to be not best pleased and she continued more sedately, “But I see you are already being entertained. Clarence, Cedric, did you make yourselves properly known to the Marquess of Everleigh?”
“Yes, Mama,” Clarence responded dutifully, wilting under his parent’s minatory eye.
His younger brother, however, was made of sterner stuff. “Mama, Uncle Tony was here and he is taking us to Astley’s Amphitheater this evening and we’re going to see the Steel Castle and a pantomime and clowns and horses and I all sorts of wonderful t
hings. And Cousin Caro is coming too,” Ceddie burst out.
“That is, of course, unless you need me, Lavvy, but I could not recall that there was anything of importance we were to do this evening,” Caro apologized.
“Oh, no, nothing of importance,” Lavvy began angrily, then warned by the wary look in Caro’s and Nicholas’s eyes that it behooved her to tread carefully, she laughed brittlely, “If that isn’t just like Anthony, going off on one of his queer starts without consulting me. Why, he doesn’t even know what time Clarence and Cedric go to bed.”
Seeing the boys’ faces fall, Nicholas interjected hurriedly, “But I am certain the performance will not be that late and, after all, what can one late bedtime signify in the face of an opportunity such as this?” The marquess was unprepared for the rush of feelings that enveloped him as three pairs of grateful eyes turned in his direction. He had merely intended to be helpful, but when he saw how much the simple gesture meant to the boys, he was immensely touched. As for Caro, the smile that lighted up her face as one gray eye closed in a conspiratorial wink, again made him experience that special sense of intimacy and he found himself wishing he could join the merry little group at Astley’s and share in their pleasure.
Nicholas felt certain that Caro’s enjoyment of it all would be as intense as her appreciation of the opera had been the other evening. He suddenly realized what a pleasure it was to be with someone who was unsophisticated enough to participate unselfconsciously in the amusements London had to offer.
A delicate cough interrupted these reflections and recalled the marquess to the original purpose of his visit. “I can see that I have come, at least for one of you ladies, on a fruitless errand. Mama is giving a small musicale this evening—nothing formal, you understand—just a few friends to hear Signer Clementi. We are fortunate enough to have engaged him as Clary’s pianoforte teacher and he has quite kindly consented to give us an evening of music. I believe he is even to play one piece with Clary. At any rate. Mama has invited her friends and, without wishing to alarm Clary, who avoids social gatherings if at all possible, I was hoping to include people more near her own age. However, an evening of the pianoforte, no matter how well performed, quite pales in comparison to the delights of Astley’s. But I would take it as a special favor if you were to come, Lavinia.” The marquess directed a devastating smile in the countess’s direction, knowing full well that she would prefer such tame entertainment to an evening at home, especially if it would put him in her debt.
The countess had not been the reigning toast of London for nothing. “Well, I had rather planned ...” She paused as if weighing this invitation against a host of others, then appeared to come to some decision. “Thank you, Nicky. It will be lovely to see your dear Mama and sister again and hear the news from home.” She moved closer to the marquess, laying a possessive hand on his arm. “You really must hear Nicholas’s sister Clarissa play sometime, Caro. She is truly a most accomplished performer and such a charming young person. I vow I quite dote on her. We shall have to introduce you to each other so that you can have a friend closer to your age here in town. It is a pity that she cannot join the little party at Astley’s.”
For all the world, as though I were the veriest schoolgirl, Caro muttered furiously to herself. Well, I shan’t be put out. “Yes, I quite agree with you, Lavvy, and I look forward to renewing our acquaintance, which, though brief, was most enjoyable,” she responded sweetly, knowing full well how her having made such a connection without Lavvy’s help would put her cousin’s nose out of joint.
The significance of the interchange was not lost on the marquess. He grinned appreciatively. So the little cousin had claws did she? Lady Caroline Waverly might not aspire to a place in the ton, but she did not appreciate being relegated to the ranks of green girls fresh from the schoolroom. And Lavinia, though accustomed to dominating every scene, did not relish any competition, even if it was from a mere cousin who, as she had attempted to make abundantly clear, was young and inexperienced to the point of being gauche.
The marquess decided to take matters into his own hands. “Yes, Clary and Caro met when we were driving in the park. I should think Clary would be delighted to have a friend who will not only encourage her to take the air, but who is capable of carrying on an intelligent conversation at the same time—certainly a rarity in London. Perhaps I can drive the two of them the next fine day.” He bowed in Caro’s direction, thoroughly enjoying her conspiratorial smile. There, that should prove to her that he was not under the cat’s foot, even if it were a foot as beautiful as the Countess of Welham’s.
For her part, Caro was highly amused, and felt something else besides, which she could not quite put her finger on. Clearly, the man was not at all stupid. He had picked up on the undercurrents of her exchange with Lavinia, had read the innuendos correctly, and come immediately to her defense. He needn’t have done it. Caro considered herself more than a match for her cousin any day, but she was oddly touched by his concern for her welfare and his willingness to take her part against someone who so very obviously considered him to be her territory. Unable to help herself, Caro smiled. Looking up into the twinkling blue eyes, she realized how very pleasant a thing it was to be understood and how very attractive this sympathy and camaraderie made a person appear.
A hand tugging at her skirt broke into these disturbing reflections.
“Cousin Caro, you said we could take some sugar to your horses because they are ever so fond of it. May we?”
The conversation among the three grown-ups, though short, had been significant enough to make them forget the existence of Ceddie and Clarence who, abashed by their mother’s presence, had remained remarkably quiet. Now, however, Cedric had had more than enough of such inactivity.
Caro came to with a start. “Oh, goodness! Clarence, Ceddie, I quite forgot you were standing there. Dreadfully impolite of me. Yes, do let us go and feed the horses and you can tell me all that you know about Astley’s. Let us bid good day to the marquess and then be off.’’
Smiling gratefully at Nicholas, Caro hurried from the room, leaving the marquess thinking once again that he had never met a woman who left his presence so precipitately and with such apparent eagerness.
“Well, that’s fixed then. I shall look forward to seeing you this evening, Lavinia.” Nicholas snatched his hat and cane, leaving Lavvy, who had been preparing for a few moments of flirtatious tête-à-tête, seething with frustration.
However, all signs of ill temper had been wiped away by the time she arrived at Daventry House that evening. She looked as enchanting as ever in pale pink satin, which was nearly as delicate as her pink-and-white complexion and somehow made her appear as young and fresh as a girl in her first Season. Seeing her, the marquess hurried over with gratifying alacrity. “Lavvy.” He bent over her hand, inhaling her heady perfume, and once again he was struck by the thought of how truly beautiful she was.
“I am come alone, Nicky. I hope no one is disconcerted, but I could see that Miss Gray truly preferred to join the schoolroom party at Astley’s. She and Caro are so devoted to my two boys that it is quite touching to see, though entirely understandable. But you must forgive the prejudice of a fond mama.”
This pretty speech, designed as it was to lay to rest any qualms the marquess might have after her previous display of annoyance, succeeded to some extent. Indeed, seeing the boys with their mother and Caro and observing the way they naturally turned to Caro for support and understanding had made it plain again to Nicholas that for Lavvy, the happiness, admiration, and comfort of the Countess of Welham was still her major preoccupation.
“That was kind of you, Lavinia. We shall do our best to see that you are well taken care of and do not lack for companionship.” Nicholas smiled meaningfully down at her.
“I appreciate that, Nicky. I knew I could count on you to support a poor widow,” Lavvy replied, an answering smile dimpling her bewitching mouth. Everything was proceeding to her satisfaction. In tru
th. Miss Gray would have preferred hearing the celebrated Clementi perform. Caro, knowing this, had urged her to accompany her cousin. But Lavvy was so insistent that the musicale would be very dull and that the boys truly needed the attention of both women because Tony was such a corkbrain that he might suddenly take it in his head to leave them while he went to talk to the riders or performers, that Caro had capitulated. However, it was not before her suspicions were thoroughly roused as to the motives behind Lavvy’s uncharacteristic solicitude. Highly aware of her cousin’s stratagem to have Nicholas to herself as much as possible, Caro oddly enough felt a degree of sympathy for the object of such a concerted campaign. She even had a thought to spare for his welfare as she and the others sat spellbound in the amphitheater.
Caro would have been astounded to know that at that particular moment, the Marquess of Everleigh himself was thinking about the little group at Astley’s, and rather enviously at that. He had just led the Countess of Welham over to the alcove where his mother and sister were sitting and Lavvy was exclaiming her pleasure at seeing them again in tones designed to carry the message to all and sundry that she and the marquess’s family were on the best of terms. The Marchioness of Everleigh beamed at her, but Nicholas could see that Clary was not fooled in the least. Nor could he help noticing that while Lavvy expressed her delight that Clary was able to make the trip to London, hoped that the constant activity was not too much for her, and assured her that she was most eager to hear her play, somehow she could not bring herself to look directly at his sister.
Nicholas was not deceived. He knew that Lavvy, cossetted as she had been her entire life, protected from every possible pain and unpleasantness, could not bear to be confronted with it now and was made excessively uncomfortable by the thought of his sister’s disability, invisible as it was at the moment.
For some reason, this brought Caro to mind with her ever-ready sympathy, whether it was for rejected lovers or small boys leading a stifling existence. Thinking of small boys made him wonder how they all were enjoying themselves and he wished most desperately that he were there watching Mr. Ducrow’s amazing feats of horsemanship and seeing the wonder of it all through their eyes. The marquess resolved to call at Grosvenor Square first thing the next day so he could share in some of the enthusiasm.
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