The Infamous Rakes

by Amanda Scott

  “Oh, pooh,” Theo said. “I am not afraid of him.”

  Crawley said, “Do you really have a partner for the first country dance, Miss Theo? Because if you do not—”

  “Oh, but I do,” she said with a startled look, turning at once to look around the crowded room. People who did not mean to take part were moving away from the center now, and as the musicians began to play a spirited tune, a young man hurried toward them. “Oh, there he is,” Theo said, smiling radiantly.

  Felicia, recognizing one of her sister’s admirers from the Devonshire House evening, watched them hurry off with Dawlish and Belinda to take their places in one of the sets. Then, seeing that her aunt had taken possession of two empty chairs near the wall, beside Lady Crawley and Lady Dacres, she turned to join them. Crawley stopped her with a touch of his arm.

  “Will you dance. Miss Adlam?”

  She looked up at him, feeling what was rapidly coming to be a familiar mixture of emotions. She yearned to dance with him, but she wished he had not made it clear that she was his second choice. “I had not intended to dance, sir,” she said at last.

  “Nonsense, of course you will. I must say, I am glad to see that you took my advice with regard to your gown. That one suits you much better than any other I have seen.”

  She looked down at the bright blue silk Etruscan robe she had allowed Theo to coax her into wearing that evening. It was trimmed with white satin ribbon, brown cord, and yards of lace, and it was indeed a pretty thing, but she thought it much more suitable to someone with Theo’s coloring rather than her own. She had flatly refused to wear the fancy headdress that Theo recommended, deciding instead on a simple lace and muslin cap ornamented with a blue satin bow and a matching silk rose.

  “I did not wear this to please you, sir,” she said.

  He grinned. “Will you dance with me?”

  “You are asking me only because Theo refused you.” The words were out before she had known she would say them.

  He did not seem much shocked by her outspokenness, saying only, “Theo did not refuse me, nor did I ask her to dance. I merely inquired as to whether—”

  “You meant to ask her.”

  “Did I?” His smile was warm, and the look made her wonder if perhaps he had not meant to ask Theo after all. She wanted to know, but she did not want to press for a more direct answer. He said gently, “The music has begun, and we shall annoy all manner of persons if we intrude upon one of the sets now, so I will either escort you to your aunt if you insist that I must, or I can show you the state apartments. Have you seen them?”

  “No, but I begin to think they merely provide an excuse for gentlemen who wish to take ladies away from their chaperons.”

  “Very true, but Crofton House does not boast much of a garden—certainly nothing to rival Devonshire House—so we must make do. And the state apartments here are splendid. Tell me, Miss Adlam, do you mean to go with us to Queen’s House tomorrow to see Lawrence’s portrait? Though we have seen little of you at the sittings this past week, I am persuaded that Miss Theo must have told you about Dickon’s plan.”

  “She did. She also said she did not wish to go, and since no one has mentioned it to me since then, I was not certain Sir Richard still intended for us all to do so.”

  “He can scarcely force either of you to go if you do not agree,” he said. “Nor would I allow him to. But perhaps you did not know that the Queen’s House galleries have been shut up to the public since the king was taken ill. Few people have had the privilege of seeing any of the paintings. Kew Palace, which is much his majesty’s favorite residence, is being rebuilt, so he has had no choice but to remain at Queen’s House, since the journey to Windsor was not to be thought of.”

  “You are very conversant with the king’s business, sir.”

  “No more than any other citizen who reads the Times. His majesty’s doctors provide daily bulletins, you know.”

  “I did not know. I rarely see the papers unless my father chances to comment on an article and give it to me to read.”

  “Well, you ought to read them more—very interesting.” He guided her toward a pair of tall double doors as he spoke. “Much news about the royal family, and Parliament, not to mention that interesting rascal Bonaparte.”

  She chuckled. “Don’t mention him to Theo. That is just the kind of subject she detests most to hear gentlemen talk about.”

  “So she has said more than once. Your visits to the theater and the Academy lecture must have been disastrous.”

  “Not so bad as that, but Major Brinksby is a trifle long-winded on the subjects of Lord Nelson, the British fleet, and the burgeoning war between Spain and Portugal.”

  “So Dickon and I have heard, at length.”

  “Oh, dear, I hoped her sittings had been going better. She has not complained much since that first day.”

  “Perhaps you should not avoid them.”

  “I do not avoid them. I have been sending her maid with her as I said I would. I have any number of more important things to do, sir.” She did not look at him as she said this, fearing he would see the truth in her eyes, that she had not wished to subject herself to watching Theo flirt outrageously with him while bedeviling Sir Richard.

  “I never took you for a coward, Miss Adlam.”

  Her gaze flew up to meet his. “But I—”

  “You knew perfectly well that the fur would fly, and so it did when she showed up for her second sitting in that pink dress. I am surprised she did not tell you all about it.”

  “But that is a lovely gown,” Felicia said, surprised to hear that there had been any difficulty, for Theo had not said a word about it, and neither had her maid. “At least, I presume she wore her muslin, and not the pink gown from the first day.”

  “Oh, it was a different gown, but Dickon wants her to wear white, and he told her so. The little vixen has claws. Called him a mere painter again. I had no notion when I agreed to act as gooseberry, that I might be putting my life on the line.”

  “You knew exactly what you were doing, my lord.”

  “Are you attempting to divert me, Miss Adlam?”

  “Is there any purpose to this conversation?”

  “Certainly. I asked if you intend to accompany us to Queen’s House tomorrow, and I even tried to make it sound more enticing by pointing out that the general public is not yet admitted to the galleries. Dickon will get us in privately.”

  “A tempting offer, to be sure.”

  “It is. He will very kindly tell us a great deal more than we want to know about the pictures we see, and we shall all come away far more knowledgeable than any of our acquaintances.”

  She laughed. “You are absurd, sir.”

  “Will you go?”

  Certain though she still was that he wanted her to go only so that Theo would go, she could not resist the pleading look in his eyes. She nodded, then looked around in dismay when she realized they were alone. “I have not heeded where we have been walking, sir. Is this one of the state apartments?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” he replied, watching her. “I should think it must be, though. Do you think Lady Crofton would decorate the servants’ quarters in pink and gilt with dozens of claw-footed sofas lining the walls?”

  “But—”

  “I have not the slightest notion where we are, my dear, but I have no intention of kissing you again merely because we find ourselves alone. Shall we go back the way we came?”

  “If you please,” she said meekly, telling herself that the endearment had been a mere slip of his tongue, and pretending she was relieved to know he would take no more liberties.

  She made much of looking about her and commenting on the decor of the grand rooms through which they passed until they met Dawlish in the room adjoining the ballroom. She thought he looked a trifle harassed.

  Crawley said, “What have you done with my sister, Mongrel?”

  “Left her talking about forged invitations, like everyone el
se, and making a cake of herself over Dacres. You ought to put a stop to that,” Dawlish added bluntly. “He ain’t the man for Belinda. Besides, Miss Theodosia has entered the ranks now. When Vyne came up and asked her again if she would dance with him, she put her hand on Dacres’s arm as calmly as you please and said she had promised the dance to him. Quite sure she hadn’t, but Dacres didn’t turn a hair. Walked off with her as though he had taken the prize at Newmarket.”

  “Oh, dear,” Felicia said. “She ought not to do such things, but Sir Richard does seem to bring out the worst in her.”

  “She certainly ought not to do such things,” Crawley said. “I still have some small hope that Belinda might snare Dacres. Lord knows, she seemed likely to do so all last Season, but from some cause or another it came to naught.”

  Rather sharply, Dawlish said, “Came to naught because the chit don’t like him. She’s bound to try to win him for your sake, Ned, and for no other reason. Says you need the money. I told her it was no such thing, that all you needed was some resolution and a few months to tend your property, but—”

  “That’s enough,” Crawley said.

  Reddening, Dawlish looked unhappily at Felicia. “Sorry, Miss Adlam. Spoke out of turn. Your servant.” Bowing hastily, he turned and walked away.

  Crawley, placing her hand on his arm and moving toward the ballroom, said calmly, “Mongrel’s a rattle. Pay him no heed.”

  “He is a kind and pleasant gentleman,” Felicia said. “Indeed, sir, I think he is a very good friend to you.”

  “True, but he talks too much.”

  “I hope you are not pressing your sister to wed merely to please you, sir.”

  “Of course I am not. I care for her a good deal.”

  “Have you told her so? I, too, have noted her lack of strong feeling for Lord Dacres, you know, so perhaps you ought—”

  “She knows I care. Look here, Miss Adlam, I have twice asked you a question, which you have not yet answered.”

  “I will go, sir,” she said. “I thought I had said so.”

  “Then I shall return you to your aunt, for I daresay your next partner will be wondering what has become of you.”

  “I suppose the truth is that you don’t enjoy hearing my opinions as much as you like offering your own to me.”

  “Not at all,” he said coolly.

  “Then, no doubt, you simply wish to join the throng of admirers surrounding my sister,” she said with a sigh.

  “In point of fact,” he retorted, “I am going to take your advice and dance with my own sister.”

  She was not sure she believed him, and tried to tell herself it did not matter whom he danced with, but she could not deny a sense of relief when she saw him enter a set for a reel with Belinda. Sitting beside Lady Augusta, she turned her thoughts resolutely homeward. There had been no nightmares for several nights, but she wanted to look in on Sara Ann as soon as they got home, to be sure she was sleeping peacefully. Having spoken at length with Freddy to explain why he must not frighten his sister, Felicia had been reassured by his chastened demeanor, but she had learned in the short time the children had been with them that Freddy’s demeanor was not always to be trusted.

  Her partner for the next set soon came to fetch her, but though she danced every dance after that, she did not dance again with Crawley. They did not stay very late at Crofton House, for Theo came to her shortly after supper, when the guests had begun to return to the ballroom, and said angrily, “We are to go home now, if you please.”

  “Well, I for one am glad of it,” Felicia said. “Is Aunt Augusta too tired to stay longer?”

  “Nothing of the sort. I’ll have you know it is Sir Richard who commands it, not our aunt.”

  “Sir Richard!”

  “Yes, and you may well look astonished, for I was nothing less myself. The nerve of the man, Felicia, ordering one about as though one were a child. How am I to enjoy my first Season if I am to be packed off to bed at such hours as this? Why, every other person here means to attend at least two or three other parties before they retire. Crawley and the others have already gone on to another ball, and I wanted to go with them, but Sir Richard said I must not. He said I have not been looking my best these three days past and will look a hag in the morning, and that he will sketch me just as I look. Sir Richard said—”

  “Enough,” Felicia cried, holding up her hand. “Each time you say his name, you make him sound like some sort of disgusting insect you would like to trample beneath your feet.”

  “Well, and so I would! The man is insufferable. When I was dancing with Dacres, he cut in just as though he had been my husband, for I am sure that no one but a husband ever dares to do such a thing. And when I objected, he said merely that he had wished to dance with me, as if that settled that. But I like Lord Dacres. And he is wealthy, not a mere painter!”

  “He is very handsome, too,” Felicia said, determined to calm her before she drew the attention of everyone else in the room, and seeing no good to be gained by pointing out that Vyne, as they had discovered that evening, was rather more than a simple painter. “Dacres seems much taken with you, dear, but it would not do to be setting your cap for anyone just yet, before you have had time to see more than half the gentlemen in London.”

  Theo sighed. “That is just the trouble, for Crawley told me you have agreed to go to Queen’s House tomorrow, when I had hoped we might beg off by saying we ought to stay at home with Mama.”

  “Mama will not mind. I sat with her yesterday and today, as well, and we only promised her one or two afternoons a week.”

  “Yes, but if you go to Queen’s House, then I must go, too, because I quite see that it would not do for you to go alone with two gentlemen—three actually, for Dawlish expressed a desire to see Queen Charlotte’s portrait, and Sir Richard most obligingly said he might go with us if he liked.”

  The sarcasm in her tone as she added the last bit did not augur well for the expedition, Felicia thought, biting back a sigh. She said, “I see that you are distressed, my dear, but I cannot cry off now; moreover, I cannot understand what my decision has to do with your meeting eligible young men.”

  “But for goodness’ sake, Felicia, surely you can see that the more Sir Richard gets his way, the more he will assume that such a state of affairs will continue. If he is not thwarted occasionally, he will become insufferable.”

  “Very likely,” Felicia agreed, “but in this instance he is perfectly right, you know. If he is to paint you looking your best, you must look your best. It is not fair to expect him to paint what he does not see.”

  “I cannot think why not,” Theo snapped. “Goodness knows every other fashionable artist does it all the time.”

  “Perhaps they do, but Crawley has said Sir Richard paints what he sees, and does not pander to vanity. In point of fact, I begin to wonder if all his present concern is only for his work. That would not be cause enough to interrupt your dance with such an eligible man as Lord Dacres.”

  Seeing by Theo’s thoughtful expression that she had given her something to think about, Felicia urged her toward their aunt so that they might take their leave. She had begun to think the ball tedious, and was anxious to be going.

  At home, she hurried upstairs to look in on Sara Ann, and was reassured to find the child deeply asleep, with Mary snoring gently on a pallet beside her cot. A thought struck her as she left the room, and she took a moment to peep into Freddy’s, but he was sleeping soundly, too, and looked, in the glow of the lamp she held up in the doorway, more like an angel than the little devil he was. She smiled as she turned away, for despite everything, she rather enjoyed Freddy’s spirited approach to life.

  8

  “GENTLEMEN, PLACE YOUR BETS.”

  Crawley placed chips on the four and the eight and coppered the queen. Then, absentmindedly reaching for the drink at his elbow, he watched the dealer discard the soda, as the top card in the pack was called, turn up the next card, and lay it on the table besi
de the box. It was the queen of hearts. Crawley collected his winnings from Lord Thomond, who held the bank, then a moment later, watched him collect his other chips with a new turn of a card. Crawley sighed. His mind was not really on faro, but he did prefer winning to losing.

  “Penny for your thoughts, Crawler,” said the fop beside him, pushing his flower-decked hat back on his head and peering owlishly at Crawley through wire-rimmed spectacles.

  “Women, Corey. I was thinking of women.”

  “God bless them,” Viscount Corey said, raising his glass.

  Obligingly, Crawley drank, but he was far from echoing Corey’s sentiments. Placing his next chips carefully between the six and five, and the ace and deuce, and coppering the latter, he murmured, “Do you understand women, Corey?”

  “Good God, no,” the fop replied in dismay. “Does anyone?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “What’s amiss?”

  But Crawley was not so far gone with drink or abstraction that he could speak of his troubles in so public a place. He smiled at his friend and shook his head. “Nothing to speak of, Corey, nothing at all to speak of.”

  They played in silence for some time after that, and the pile of chips in front of Crawley diminished considerably.

  “Wondered where you had got to, Ned. Ought to have suspected Brooks’s right off. Dipping deep or playing deep?”

  Startled at the sound of Dawlish’s voice so close behind him, for he had fallen into a reverie again, he turned and looked at him for a moment before saying, “What’s o’clock, Mongrel?”

  “Nearly four. Saw the ladies safe home an hour ago and been looking for you since. Expected you to accompany us from Crofton House to the Sefton’s party. Your mother drew attention to the fact that we’d misplaced you before we got there, but Dacres’s mama was so concerned lest they might have received a forged invitation to the Sefton party, that I could not abandon them.”

  “Where was Dacres?”