The Counterfeit Countess

by Diana Campbell

  “Alexander cannot possibly have any further objections,” Grandmama said firmly, “so we shall definitely conduct the ball next Wednesday. Insofar as the guest list is concerned, I daresay Harriet and Agatha and I amongst us know nearly everyone in England, but perhaps Alex has particular parties he wishes to include or exclude.”

  “Particular parties,” his lordship choked. “Well, it does occur to me that Isabella—”

  “Of course we shall invite Isabella," Mrs. Seymour cooed, “and Mrs. Lennox -as well. I was thinking in terms of your schoolmates, Alex: the young men you were acquainted with at Eton and Cambridge.”

  Despite Grandmama’s prodding, the Earl seemed unable to recall the name of a single schoolmate he wished to invite to the assembly, and eventually Mrs. Seymour sighed. “Very well, Alex; Harriet and I shall compose the preliminary list this evening. As I think on it, Selina, I believe we should do the invitations at Agatha’s; that will permit us to inspect the facilities before we engage the florist and the caterer and the orchestra. Let us plan to meet there at midday. As for you, Alexander, I cannot but note that your appearance is little short of shocking. Fortunately, your account at Weston and Meyer remains open. I wish you to go there tomorrow and order a complete new wardrobe. And I insist you have your hair cut prior to the ball.”

  His lordship nodded, and said hair once more fell into his eyes.

  “The matter is settled then,” Grandmama said briskly, “and I shall now retire. Though I doubt I shall obtain much rest, for I no longer sleep worth a deuce. Another sympton of age, my dear.”

  Mrs. Seymour winked at Selina and rose, and the rest of the group scrambled to their collective feet. Lord and Lady Preston ushered their guests into the foyer, where Harriet promised that she and Grandmama would fetch Selina at half past eleven the following morning. The landau was waiting to convey them back to Mount Street, and they were scarcely seated when Jeremy extracted a ten-pound note from his pocket and began to describe the dazzling toys he intended to purchase with his new riches. Selina surmised that this was the reason for his earlier smirk: apparently he had visited his doting grandmother after all, and she had elected to alleviate his poverty.

  At any rate, Jeremy’s chatter precluded any discussion of the ball, and when they reached Alex’s house, Selina sped inside and up the stairs before his lordship could privately accost her. Faithful Rose was dozing in one of the bedchamber chairs, but at the sound of the door she leaped up and insisted on undressing “your ladyship” and assisting her into her nightclothes. At length, this awkward procedure was completed, and Rose was at the point of curtsying out when there was a sharp knock at the connecting door. Before Selina could direct otherwise, the maid flew across the room and opened the door, and Lord Worsham stepped into the bedchamber.

  “Alex!” Selina screeched. “I—I was preparing for bed.”

  “So I see.” The Earl’s violet eyes swept from the crown of Selina’s head to the toes of her bare feet, and she dismally suspected that her blush suffused approximately the same territory. “I consequently suggest we excuse Rose at once; do you not agree, my love?”

  His words, his tone were deliberately provocative, and Rose—with a violent blush of her own—mumbled her good-nights, scurried into the corridor and slammed the door behind her. Selina whirled furiously toward his lordship and stamped one of her naked feet.

  “Your behavior is altogether inexcusable,” she hissed. “As you have already observed, I am not dressed.”

  “But neither are you undressed,” Alex pointed out. “A circumstance I sincerely regret, for I daresay you’d present a most fetching spectacle indeed.”

  The Earl flashed his mischievous grin, and Selina gritted her teeth.

  “I shall entertain no more of your lascivious remarks,” she said coldly. “Our—our hoax is not a carte blanche for lewd conduct.”

  “No? Then perhaps you might explain to me just how far our ‘hoax’ is to extend.”

  Lord Worsham closed the connecting door and traversed the faded Aubusson carpet, stopped at Selina’s side and gazed down at her. His eyes had gone cold, had turned to purple shards of ice, but his body radiated a peculiar, unsettling warmth. Selina could not quell an impression that he was peering quite through her ancient dressing gown, and she fumbled with the lace at her throat.

  “I thought we had agreed to keep our charade as uncomplicated as possible,” Alex continued. “With that end in mind, I tried to discourage Grandmama’s notion of an assembly, hoping to shelter you from the scrutiny of society—”

  “You hoped no such thing!” Selina snapped. “You hoped to dispatch Grandmama promptly back to Wiltshire, where she would immediately alter her will in your favor. You hoped to live happily ever after off the proceeds—you and Miss Bradley. Though that eventuality appears rather remote in view of Miss Bradley’s luxurious tastes.”

  “Ah.” The Earl nodded, and his hay-colored hair flopped about his forehead again. “I collect that Grandmama has won you over; you have espoused her prejudice against Isabella.”

  “Call it prejudice if you will," Selina said stiffly. "However, I judge your grandmother an exceedingly sensible woman.”

  “Exceedingly sensible and excessively stubborn,” his lordship said. “She has never cared for Isabella, and she now seems determined to flaunt my imaginary marriage in her face. I was attempting to propose that Isabella be omitted from the guest list when Grandmama intervened.”

  “It seems to me that you attempt a great deal and accomplish very little,” Selina said coolly. “But do not tease yourself about it: Miss Bradley can readily decline to attend the ball if she finds the situation loo painful. In the interim, Grandmama has offered to buy you a new wardrobe, and I daresay she will soon provide the carriage and horses you’ve dreamed of. You might consult Papa on the latter head; he has friends at Tattersall’s.”

  There was a long silence, and Selina initially fancied that Alex had failed to hear her. She then observed a familiar twitch at the corners of his mouth and saw that his eyes had reverted once more to lavender.

  “You are very clever as well, Selina," his lordship said at last. “So clever that I shall concede a temporary draw and simultaneously issue a warning. As those in gaming circles would express it—and I daresay you are well acquainted with gamesters—we are even. We are even, and henceforth I shall give you no quarter.”

  “Henceforth?” Selina repeated. “Insofar as I am aware, you never intended to allow me any quarter.”

  “You do me a grave injustice, my dear.” The Earl clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I fully intended to suppress my baser male instincts, but as it is . .

  He moved like a cat, moved before Selina could begin to guess what he was at. One of his arms snaked round her waist, pulling her against him, while the fingers of his opposite hand tilted up her chin. His mouth came down on hers, and his lips forced hers apart, and Selina melted into him, her own arms creeping round his neck. As he lowered his mouth to her throat, he moved his fingers to the front of her dressing gown, and Selina felt a wave of unfamiliar, but excruciatingly pleasurable, warmth. Before she could succumb entirely to the strange new sensations he created, she jerked frantically away.

  “That is quite enough!” She would not have recognized her voice: it was a hoarse, tremulous distortion of her normal tones. “I told you that I will not tolerate lewd conduct.”

  “And I told you that I will give you no more quarter.” Alex’s voice was raspy and unsteady as well, but he abruptly released her, and Selina stumbled backward. “I provided you a splendid opportunity to abbreviate your imposture, but you chose to prolong it. It is not too late, of course; you could always send word to Grandmama that you have experienced a change of heart.”

  "And the sun could always rise in the west,” Selina retorted acidly. “No, milord, I shall not yield to your threats either."

  “Either?”

  Lord Worsham frowned, and Selina recollected that he did not
know of Jeremy’s abortive extortionary venture.

  “Never mind,” she sighed. “I don’t wish to discuss it. Go away and leave me in peace.”

  “Peace?” The Earl emitted a mirthless chuckle. "I fear that is highly unlikely, my dear: you have created a most uncomfortable bed, and, as the saying goes, you must lie in it. I made a valiant effort to volunteer my companionship—”

  “Out!” Selina interrupted Firmly.

  The Earl negotiated an elaborate bow, crossed the carpet, opened the connecting door, bowed again and strode into his own room. Selina stared after him until the door clicked shut, then glanced at the canopied bed, wondering what it would be like to accept Alex’s “companionship.” The notion was so shocking that she felt the onset of another blush and diligendy scrubbed her mouth with the back of one hand. When she felt she had erased every trace of his lordship’s disgraceful, stolen kiss, she crept to the bed and crawled beneath the covers. But her lips continued to burn; her body continued to ache most oddly; and it was a long time before she fell asleep.

  Chapter 9

  Lady Stansbury, far from being the “girl” Grandmama had described, appeared somewhat older than Mrs. Seymour herself; Selina guessed the tiny, wizened woman to be nudging eighty. Whatever her age, her ladyship was thrilled by the prospect of conducting a grand ball and immediately offered to help write the invitations. Her assistance proved invaluable, for as the day progressed, Selina began to suspect that her three hostesses did, in fact, know everyone in England. When they left Portman Square, Lady Stansbury’s dining room was in late-aftemoon shadow, several hundred ivory cards were strewn about the table, and Selina’s fingers were stained with ink and throbbing most painfully.

  During the ensuing days, Selina discovered that the planning of a great English rout was infinitely more complex than the arrangements for her and Papa’s modest entertainments. She and Grandmama and Harriet spent fully half a day with the caterer, nearly as long with the florist, and they were compelled to interview four orchestra leaders before locating one who met Mrs. Seymour’s exacting specifications. It was then time to begin cleaning Lady Stansbury’s house—a project which required the importation of Rose and Harriet's four maids in addition to her ladyship’s own staff. Grandmama insisted that the servants be kept under constant supervision, and by Tuesday, the day before the assembly, the sight of soap and water, the faintest odor of wax, were sufficient to render Selina distinctly nauseous.

  The ball was scheduled to start at nine, but Mrs.

  Seymour commanded the family to come at half past eight, and Selina, to be perfectly safe, began to dress at six. Her caution proved well-founded because Rose managed to wreak new and almost incredible havoc upon her hair, and Selina was forced to rearrange the floral garland herself. The result was not so wretched as she had feared, she decided, peering critically into the cheval glass: the garland complemented the wide row of saun puffs and roses round her skirt and hid the wildest of the black curls Rose had created. The clock struck once, and Selina—recollecting that the landau was to fetch them at a quarter past eight—seized her gloves and reticule and flew down the stairs.

  Papa and Alex were awaiting her in the foyer, and she was able to give them only a desultory glance before they swept her outside and into the carriage. The haste and confusion of the moment were such that she was sealed next to Papa, across from the Earl, and the landau was well under way before she regained her breath and glanced again at his lordship. Glanced, then frankly gaped, for he might have been a different person. She vaguely realized that their paths had not crossed for several days, during which interval he had obviously been barbered: in the front, his hay-colored hair had been cropped to expose a goodly expanse of forehead, and on the sides, it fell to a point just above his earlobes. Added to which, he was clad in an elegant evening ensemble—a wasp-waisted coat of black saun, immaculately tailored small clothes and striped stockings which revealed his shapely calves to maximum advantage.

  “Do I pass your inspection, dear?” Alex drawled. “More to the point, shall I pass Grandmama’s inspection?”

  “I—I daresay you will,” Selina stammered. “You—you look quite handsome.”

  “I should hope so, for I fancy Messrs. Weston and Meyer stand to retire upon the setdement of my account. If I may say so, you look very handsome as well.”

  “Thank you,” Selina mumbled. She could not deter-

  mine whether his words were serious or sardonic, and she tugged nervously at a stray curl.

  Lady Stansbury’s house was fairly ablaze—sparkling with lamps and candles from the understory to the roof—and the carriage had scarcely stopped when three liveried footmen rushed forward to hand the passengers out and guide them up to the third-floor ballroom. The endless days of preparation had been amply rewarded, Selina judged, pausing on the threshold: the floor was gleaming, the chandeliers positively glistened, and the florist had arrayed dozens of bouquets and potted palms tastefully about the room. The caterer’s men were bustling in and out of the refreshment parlor, and, in the gallery overhead, the chosen orchestra were busily tuning their instruments.

  “Thank God you have arrived,” Mrs. Seymour panted. She had seemingly materialized from nowhere, and Selina started. “It occurred to me, not an hour since, that we overlooked one very significant item. A further indication of my advanced years, I fear.” “Overlooked?” Selina echoed. She gazed about again but detected nothing amiss. “To the contrary, Gradmama, I was just remarking our success—”

  “A ring, dear!” Mrs. Seymour hissed. “Should you have occasion to remove your gloves, everyone will eagerly seek to inspect your ring, and you don’t have one. And while you and I well understand that time and circumstance precluded Alexander’s purchase of a suitable ring, the situation might uncharitably be construed to our mutual disfavor. Consequendy, since the Cochran jewels were lost at sea, I wish you to have this."

  Grandmama stripped off her own left glove and pulled the ring from her third Finger. It was a circlet composed entirely of diamonds, a piece of inestimable value, and Selina shook her head.

  “I deeply appreciate your generosity,” she murmured, “but I must decline. I cannot accept such a gift—” “Then we shall call it a loan,” Mrs. Seymour interposed firmly. She transferred her violet eyes to her grandson. “I am pleased to observe that you look relatively presentable, Alexander. Now, if you will assist Selina, I daresay we shall all be ready to meet our

  guests.”

  The Earl solemnly tugged off Selina’s glove and pushed the diamond ring into place. Selina might almost have fancied it a proper nuptial ceremony except that his lordship’s mouth was twitching quite madly, and, behind them, Papa succumbed to a sudden Fit of coughing. At any rate, she had scant opportunity to admire her borrowed ring, for Lady Stansbury’s butler was already announcing the first arrivals. Selina hastily redonned her glove and was able to greet General Mansfield and his plump, homely wife with what she hoped was considerable poise. The General, for his part, explained at some length that he was actually retired; otherwise he would certainly be in Belgium defending the Empire against Napoleon’s latest depredations. Selina nodded, and General and Mrs. Mansfield drifted away.

  It soon appeared that every one of their invited guests had elected to attend the rout, for the General was followed by a steady stream of Lords and Ladies and Honorables, treading literally upon one another’s heels. Selina, who had never possessed a great head for names, quickly found the faces beginning to blur as well, and she doubted she would have remembered a single soul except that several parties were brought quite vividly to her attention.

  “John Hewson?” the first of these bellowed. He was a tall, bald man, and he was staring incredulously at Papa through his quizzing glass. “Cousin Jack?”

  “Yes, it is I, Cousin Ronald," Papa confirmed. “And how is Uncle Henry?”

  “Not well,” Cousin Ronald responded heavily. “Indeed,

  I am sorry to report
that he cannot live much longer; I fear I must prepare myself to become Earl of Holboume within the year.” He did not sound sorry in the least. “But what the devil are you doing in England?” Cousin Ronald lowered his glass and nervously patted his pockets, as though suspecting that Papa might have lifted his watch or his purse.

  “I accompanied my dear daughter Selina”—Papa drew her forward—“who is the new Lady Worsham.”

  “You wed your daughter to Alexander Cochran?” Cousin Ronald raised his glass again and glowered down at the extremely plain young woman beside him, whom Selina inferred to be his own daughter. “Pray do accept my sincerest congratulations.”

  Cousin Ronald bowed stiffly and stalked on past them, dragging his unfortunate daughter in his wake, and Selina surmised that her “marriage” was not destined to reunite the far-flung Hewsons in familial harmony.

  Perhaps ten minutes had elapsed when Mrs. Seymour presented Selina to the Marquis of Shackleford. Fortunately, Selina’s mouth and cheekbones were frozen in a permanent, vacuous smile, but her neck had grown quite stiff, and she was able to manage only the barest nod.

  “The Marquis of Shackleford, dear,” Alex prompted. He gave her a fond smile and turned apologetically back to the Marquis. “I trust you will forgive my wife, sir: she has met so many people this evening that I daresay the names are running all together. The fact is, Selina was closely acquainted with your grandson during her residence in America.”

  “Grandson?” Lord Shackleford barked. “What grandson is that?”

  “Sir Matthew Platt,” the Earl said. “Of Richmond, Virginia.”