The Counterfeit Countess

by Diana Campbell

  “Naturally Harriet has told me a good deal about you,” Grandmama said. “She explained that you were born in England but brought up largely in North America. I am given to understand that it is a most uncivilized continent, but as you are not rigged out in Indian feathers, we need speak no more about it. No, let us consider your future with my grandson. Harriet also advises me that you are quite careful with money.” Selina hesitated. She had inferred, from Lady Preston’s comments to her, that Mrs. Seymour was exceedingly frugal, if not, in fact, clutchfisted. However, Grand- mama’s splendid attire and sparkling jewels tended to disprove this notion, and Selina calculated that she would not find miserliness an attractive trait.

  “The circumstances of my life have compelled me to—to minimize expenditures," she responded cautiously. “You may or may not be aware that my father was widowed many years ago, and I have managed his household since my adolescence.”

  “I was aware of that.” Mrs. Seymour nodded. “You may be unaware that I have met Jack Hewson. I doubt he recollects the encounter: I was already a woman of middle age, and he was one of the gayest young bucks in London. We conversed but briefly, so I know your father far better by reputation than by actual acquaintance. And I suspect, if you were able to keep Black Jack Hewson afloat for some years, that you are very careful with money indeed.”

  Selina felt her face flush with anger. Whatever Papa’s deficiencies, he was the dearest person in the world to her, and she would not tolerate his denigration by a woman who was wearing more money than John Hewson could ever hope to possess. “Papa provided for me to the very best of his ability,” she said stiffly. “Furthermore, as it is my character in which you purport to be interested, I perceive no reason to discuss Papa’s faults—real or imagined. I should therefore appreciate it if you would say no more about him.”

  Selina’s courage abruptly evaporated, and her words echoed in her ears like the proverbial knell of doom. She gazed at Mrs. Seymour in horrified anticipation, but, to her astonishment, Grandmama broke into a wide smile.

  “Well said, my dear; I like your spirit. However, you needn’t defend your father from me. I have always entertained a distant affection for Jack Hewson. When I met him, I detected a keen resemblance to my husband, and I daresay, had fate taken a slightly different turning, your papa might have become a pirate as well."

  “A pirate?” Selina gasped. “Harriet stated that Mr. Seymour was a privateer.”

  “A fancy euphemism for the same profession,” Grandmama snorted, “and, unlike Harriet, I do not choose to mince words. No, make no mistake about it, Samuel was a rogue of the highest order. His saving grace was that he was able to accumulate an enormous fortune, and—never believe otherwise, Selina—money buys respectability.”

  “I fancy it does,” Selina murmured politely.

  “On the other hand,” Mrs. Seymour continued, “those born with money are inclined to fritter it away. My son-in-law was a perfect example: a charming devil, handsome as a peacock; but if a shilling fell into Percy’s hands at dawn, he spent it by sundown. Augusta, my daughter, begged him to save something for the future, but unfortunately, she had no control of the Worsham estate. As a result of which, there is no longer a Worsham estate.”

  Grandmama paused, and Selina felt that some sort of rejoinder was required. “That is unfortunate,” she agreed.

  “Most unfortunate for Alex.” Mrs. Seymour sighed. “In view of Percy’s history, I fear I have tended to

  regard Alex’s conduct with undue gravity. Young men invariably sow their wild oats, and I have flown into the boughs more than once over a harmless indiscretion. The actress, for instance. I should not have been overset about the actress; Samuel had a barque of frailty until the very eve of our marriage.”

  Grandmama certainly did not mince words—indeed, her conversation bordered on the shocking—and Selina valiantly strove to quell an embarrassed blush. “I daresay that is why you permitted Alex to go abroad,” she suggested, as levelly as she could. “You no doubt hop«i a final taste of adventure would serve to settle him down—”

  “Nlo, that was not my hope at all, dear,” Mrs. Seymour interjected. “My hope was that Alex would meet and marry a sensible young woman such as yourself and terminate his engagement to Isabella Bradley.”

  “You didn’t care for her then!” Selina blurted out.

  "Indeed, I did not.” Grandmama pursed her lips as if to confirm her disapproval. "Jeremiah Bradley was a bit of a pirate himself though he made his millions in industry rather than on the high seas. Be that as it may, Mr. Bradley’s talent for making money was surpassed only by Mrs. Bradley’s ability to spend it; and I fancy he would have died impoverished had his wife not predeceased him by better than a decade. And I am sorry to say that Isabella shows every sign of following in her mother’s footsteps. She will not receive the principal of her father’s estate until she turns five and twenty—which, as I recollect, will occur later this year—and I predict that every groat will be gone before she reaches her thirtieth birthday. I am sure she calculated that by then Alex would have inherited my fortune, and she could set about dissipating it as well. She would have had a rude surprise in store, for I should never have left my monev to Alex had he wed Isabella. You, on the other hana, are obviously a thrifty girl, and I can alter my will with no qualms whatever.”

  “Did—did Alex know your feelings?" Selina asked.

  “I did not state my feelings to Alex because I learned, long ago, that the surest method of driving two young

  people into a disastrous marriage is to attempt to drive them apart. However, I suspect Alex guessed my opposition.”

  Of course he did, Selina thought grimly, and her and Papa’s plot was the answer to his lordship’s prayers. The Earl would not allow his “wife” to die until Mrs. Seymour had revised her will, and at that juncture, he and Miss Bradley had only to exercise a modicum of patience. Grandmama would not disown her dear, bereaved grandson so long as he behaved himself, and there was every likelihood that she herself would expire before Miss Bradley’s inheritance was exhausted. In short, Lord Worsham had turned the deception entirely to his benefit, and Selina was tempted to confess the sordid truth at once and be done with it. But as she debated the ramifications of this approach, the mantel clock chimed thrice, and Mrs. Seymour jumped to her feet.

  “I fear we must cease our chatting, dear,” Grandmama said. “It is a quarter before seven, and Simon insists that dinner be served precisely on the hour. And I’ve another call of nature to attend before I venture to the dining room. I have found that to be the severest disadvantage of old age: one’s bodily functions deteriorate most alarmingly. I still fancy myself five and thirty, but my innards take vicious delight in contradicting me.”

  Mrs. Seymour’s frankness once more set Selina’s cheeks ablaze, and she hastily rose and fumbled with the trunk she had displaced. “Very well,” she murmured, when she had regained some measure of composure. “I shall see you at dinner then.”

  Grandmama’s nod implied that Selina was to show herself out, and she accordingly traversed the carpet, opened the door, closed it behind her and leaned against it. She decided that the mantel clock was, indeed, an instrument of fate: had it struck any sooner, she could not have discerned Alex’s scheme; had it chimed a second later, she would have babbled her imposture to Mrs. Seymour. As it was, Selina counted herself no longer beholden to the Earl; she could, in all good

  conscience, permit fortune to dictate the outcome of their charade.

  Selina squared her shoulders and started down the corridor, but before she was halfway to the staircase, she sensed a presence behind her. She whirled around, wondering if number fifty-one Brook Street harbored a resident ghost, but it was Jeremy who emerged from the gloom and stopped beside her. His hands were cupped in familiar fashion, and Selina instinctively started to step away. However, upon close inspection, she perceived that he was holding a toy soldier rather than a reptile, and she relaxed.
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  “What a handsome soldier, Jeremy!” she said. “Is he new?”

  “Yes, he is, ma’am. One of my set. You haven’t seen it yet: there are a hundred and thirty-eight soldiers and sailors, all dressed in different uniforms of His Majesty’s forces. It’s very impressive.”

  “I’m sure it is. I do hope you’ll permit me to view it in the next day or two.”

  “It was also very expensive,” Jeremy said. “It cost all the money I won at Tattersall’s and Papa Jack’s five pounds besides.”

  “Well, at least you have something you really like,” Selina said soothingly. “Take good care of your set, Jeremy; though you may find it hard to credit, you’ll soon have sons of your own—”

  “I shan’t have sons of my own for another fifteen or twenty years," he interposed. “In the meantime, since I can’t go back to Tattersall’s, I shall have no more money.” He sounded terribly disconsolate, and Selina groped for the proper, instructive response. “You should have considered that before you purchased the set," she said sternly. “But, luckily for you, we are a trifle short of staff just now, and I daresay Alex will pay you to weed the garden and sweep the exterior steps.”

  “I think you should pay me to keep secrets,” Jeremy said cunningly. “Papa Jack gave me five pounds.”

  “Papa Jack made a serious error,” Selina snapped. “There is an unpleasant word for what Papa Jack did; the word is ‘bribery.’ And having accepted one bribe not to disclose your gaming to Simon and Harriet, it is quite dishonorable of you to demand another.”

  “I wasn’t planning to tell Simon and Harriet about my gaming. I was planning to tell Grandmama—” “That is even more dishonorable,” Selina interrupted. “And very foolish of you besides. Your grandmama will view you as a nasty little tattle-box, and I doubt she will care a whit that you wagered a few pounds at Tattersall’s.”

  "But—”

  “The answer is no, Jeremy,” Selina said firmly. “I shall not discuss the matter any further.”

  “All right. But you’ll be sorry, Selina.”

  He turned and stalked back toward the end of the corridor, and Selina watched him a moment before she turned as well and continued to the stairs. She briefly wondered whether she had made the correct decision, but she could not permit herself to be blackmailed by a ten-year-old boy. And, upon consideration, she suspected that Mrs. Seymour would be more amused than distraught, more resigned than surprised, to learn that her younger grandson had embarked on the rakeshame path laid out by his grandfather, his father and his elder brother before him.

  Chapter 8

  Selina rejoined the rest of the party in the saloon, and shortly after her arrival, the ormolu clock on its mantel struck seven. (Evidently the punctilious Lord Preston had installed a timepiece in every room of the house.) The group proceeded to the dining room, where they found Jeremy already seated and—to Selina’s dismay— wearing an exceedingly smug expression. However, when Mrs. Seymour appeared, a few seconds later, she greeted Papa as if they were, indeed, old friends; and Selina realized that Jeremy might well be feigning triumph merely to overset her. In fact, it was entirely likely that he had not spoken to Grandmama at all, and Selina resolved to put the wretched little extortionist out of her mind.

  “As for you, Alex”—Mrs. Seymour turned to her senior grandson—“for once, you have elicited my com-

  f

  ilete approval. Selina and I had a splendid chat, and I ind her a lovely girl in every respect. I’ve no doubt she will be an excellent wife, for which we must, of course, thank Mr. Hewson . ..”

  Grandmama rattled on, and Selina feared she had turned quite scarlet with embarrassment by the time Simon intervened. They really must sit down at once, Lord Preston insisted, before the food grew cold. As it happened, this appeared a remote possibility because the soup was too hot to eat, and there was an awkward pause while everyone discreedy stirred his chicken broth about his bowl. Fortunately, the interruption served to distract Mrs. Seymour from the subject of her alleged

  new granddaughter-in-law: when she spoke again, it was to inquire about the Earl’s experiences abroad.

  From that point, the dinner conversation was pleasant and lively. Alex proved to be an accomplished raconteur, and he soon had the entire table alternately laughing with delight, gasping with shock and shaking their heads with amazement as he described his numerous adventures. Grandmama supplemented his lordship’s narrative with a few adventures of her own—she had occasionally traveled with “Captain” Seymour during his later, calmer voyages—and Papa related several harrowing encounters with Indians, Eskimos and various other unfriendly natives. Papa acquitted himself so well that Selina thought no one could possibly guess that his tales were almost entirely figments of his imagination.

  The discussion began to wane soon after the footmen had delivered the cheesecake and brandy, but Selina counted this of little importance. She and Papa had clearly passed Mrs. Seymour’s inspection, and it was quite conceivable that they would not be compelled to meet with Lord Worsham’s formidable grandmother again. No, if Grandmama was to spend only two or three days in town, Selina could readily plead some mysterious indisposition; indeed, a sudden illness would lend credibility to her subsequent demise. She was somewhat annoyed by the prospect of his lordship’s effortless victory, but since she had vowed to leave the matter to fate, she relaxed and sipped her brandy.

  “It has been a most enjoyable evening,” Alex said at length. He drained his own glass, wiped his mouth and laid his napkin on the table. “I had hoped we should see you again prior to your departure, Grandmama, but I fancy you will be quite occupied.” Apparently the Earl had sniffed the aroma of victory as well. “I daresay "you will be leaving London on Thursday, Friday at the latest—”

  “Thursday?” Mrs. Seymour interposed. “Friday? Oh, no, dear, we cannot possibly conduct the ball by then.”

  “Ball?” his lordship barked. “What ball?”

  “Harriet advises me that poor Selina has not met a single person outside the family. Naturally I under

  stand your desire to postpone her public introduction till you could be present, but—in light of your delayed return—we’ve dangerously little time left before the end of the Season. Selina will simply have to meet all the important people in one fell swoop, and I consequently propose to hold an assembly in her honor.” “An assembly in her honor,” Alex echoed. “That is very kind of you, Grandmama, but I fear your idea is utterly impractical.”

  “Impractical in what way?” Mrs. Seymour asked mildly. “Impractical in what way.” The Earl was beginning to sound like one of the talking parrots he had recently described. He fumbled with his napkin a moment, then brightened. “As you yourself pointed out, Grandmama, there is insufficient time. The Season is drawing to a close, and a ball would no doubt require weeks of preparation. Weeks at best; it might well take months—” “Nonsense,” Mrs. Seymour inteijected crisply. “With Harriet and Selina’s assistance, I can arrange an assembly within a few days. However, I shall allow a full week: we shall schedule the ball for next Wednesday.” “Perhaps there would be time,” Alex said, “but we’ve no place to hold an assembly.” He shook his head with apparent regret, and Selina observed that the front portion of his hair threatened to tangle in his eyelashes. “I am sure Simon and Harriet will agree that their house is unsuitable for a great rout, and mine is certainly too small—”

  “We shall use Lady Stansbury’s home in Portman Square. You will be sorry to learn, Alex, that Sir Cuthbert died shortly after your departure, and Agatha remains quite depressed. She begged me to accompany her to town for the Season, and I fancy the dear girl will be thrilled by the prospect of conducting a magnificent ball within her very own walls.”

  His lordship was clearly less than thrilled by this prospect: he toyed with his napkin again, attempted to drink from his empty glass, retrieved his dessert fork and stabbed at an invisible crumb of cheesecake on his plate.

  “In sh
ort,” Mrs. Seymour continued, “I perceive no obstacle. Selina and Harriet and I shall write the invitations tomorrow.”

  “There is one final obstacle, Grandmama," the Earl said sorrowfully. “One I chose not to mention earlier because it is my dear wife’s only failing.” He smiled fondly across the table, and Selina rewarded him with a cool, noncommittal stare. “Not a failing,” Alex amended hastily; “let us term it a—a ‘characteristic.’ The fact is that Selina is extremely shy, and I fear she would be quite overwhelmed by an enormous assembly—”

  “I do not judge Selina shy in the least,” Mrs. Seymour protested. “Would you truly object to a ball, my dear?”

  It was a question Fate could not answer, and Selina gazed down at her plate. She had every reason to admit to her mythical diffidence: with no ball to plan, Grandmama would quit town after all, and the charade would be largely over. Mrs. Seymour would be slightly disappointed, but Selina felt she had made a sufficiently favorable impression that Grandmama would leave with a good opinion of Alex’s “thrifty," “shy” wife. She glanced up, prepared to decline Mrs. Seymour’s offer, but his lordship shot her a triumphant lavender look, and Selina inwardly brisded. She recollected that the Earl stood to gain far more than she from her imposture, and she suddenly, bitterly, resented his cowardly machinations. It would be dishonorable of her deliberately to betray Lord Worsham, she decided, but neither honor nor fortune compelled her to abet his devious scheme.

  *7 do not object,” she replied, flashing Mrs. Seymour a suitably timid smile. “However, if Alex has an objection, I shall naturally accede to his wishes.”