The Infamous Rakes

by Amanda Scott

  Felicia smiled. “His friends all say that Crawley would be much better off if he would merely attend to his business, but I collect that that is the last thing he wishes to do. He says life in the country bores him, and blames his ill fortune on wicked stewards and his father’s ill-timed death.”

  “Then he has simply frittered away his fortune. Not a good prospect, Felicity, my dear, but I am not blind, you know. I saw how you looked at him.”

  Felicia flushed. “I find him charming, to be sure, ma’am, but I have no doubt that it is just as you say, and I have merely fallen for his charming ways. I will not do anything foolish.”

  “No, my dear,” Lady Augusta said with a deep sigh, “I am very much afraid you never will.”

  “Oh, Aunt! As if it would be admirable if I did!”

  Lady Augusta smiled at her. “I suppose I sound ridiculous. Forgive me. There is another thing you must forgive as well, I’m afraid. I have asked that Townshend fellow to attend me here. You will say I am foolish, but I cannot like a man of his cut coming to my house, where there is no gentleman to protect me.”

  Felicia smiled. “I am certain he is harmless, ma’am.”

  “To be sure, but one never wants to risk one’s reputation, and you know how quickly some people will talk.”

  “At all events, there is no reason he should not attend you here. I find him most amusing.”

  Townshend arrived before Crawley and Freddy had returned, and was shown to the drawing room, where Lady Augusta and Felicia went to talk with him. In his inimitable fashion, he explained that he would hold himself responsible for the valuables in Lady Augusta’s home, and see that no one entered who was not invited.

  Felicia said, “We must tell you, Mr. Townshend, that my aunt cannot agree to let her guest list be published in the Times.”

  Lady Augusta said grandly, “Entirely too public the Times is, Mr. Townshend, as I am sure you will agree.”

  “I do, mum,” Townshend agreed, folding his hands over his plump little paunch. “Very public. That be the point of it, don’t you see? The more coves as know the list is published, the less likely you be to have folks coming in unwanted.”

  “Yes, I quite see that, but I still cannot allow it,” Lady Augusta said firmly. “That is all there is to say.”

  “Very well, mum, but we must have a plan then.”

  “To be sure,” she agreed, “and one good plan that works is better than a hundred doubtful ones.”

  Townshend blinked, and turned to Felicia. “Perhaps you might explain, mum. Have you a plan in mind already?”

  She said, “My aunt will use her crested cards for the invitations, just as Lady Crofton did. That should make them quite easy to check, and I do not think she would object to a small notice in the papers, informing people that they will be admitted by invitation only, so everyone will bring them.”

  “Still there will be some as forgets,” Townshend pointed out. “I’ll want a list handy to cast my gazers over whenever some young blade comes up a-saying he forgot his invite. And I’ll want to see your invitations before you send them out,” he added. “Have you got one of them cards by you now, mum?”

  “I do.” Lady Augusta extracted a white card from her indispensable and handed it to him.

  Townshend nodded. “Pretty engraving.” He pulled a handful of similar cards from his coat pocket. “The ones as were the most difficult to detect were these, without personal crests or proper engraving. But look here, at Lady Westfall’s card. Do you think that was a forgery?” He handed it to Felicia.

  She looked at it, gave it to her aunt, and shook her head. “I do not know Lady Westfall’s hand, but that looks like a proper invitation with a properly engraved crest,” she said.

  Townshend turned to Lady Augusta, who gave him back the card with a puzzled look on her face. “It does,” she said.

  “Every one of these”—Townshend waved the fistful of cards—“is a fake. The hand as writes them don’t matter a whisker, for nearly everyone has a secretary, a friend, or family member what helps write the invitations; and, as you see by the Westfall card, an engraved crest ain’t enough. I’ll just leave these with you now, so that you can have a look-see. On the back of each one is the way we nipped out the fakes. Regarding the Westfall invite, it will say Lady Westfall’s name ought to have been wrote first on each one. You do something like that. Choose words that’ll be quick to notice, and that a forger mightn’t think to write. Then hope the forger don’t copy it all from a real one, and don’t go blabbing to anyone what you did, see!”

  Lady Augusta bristled, and Felicia said quickly, “We will be careful. Is there anything else, Mr. Townshend?”

  He assured her that there was not, that he would look after everything just as he did for the Prince of Wales whenever that worthy demanded his services. At last Felicia was able to ring to have him shown out. Her aunt left shortly afterward, her feelings only slightly less ruffled than they had been, and with a sigh Felicia went upstairs to confer with her housekeeper.

  When Freddy came to find her sometime later, he was aglow with his accomplishments. “He let me drive in the park, Aunt Felicia, and I did everything just as he told me. He said I was a bang-up driver, and that I had the lightest hands he’d ever seen in a lad my age. What do you think of that?”

  She assured him that she was very proud of him, and he went on telling her in exact detail about every minute of the drive from Scraps’s indignantly vocal protest at their departure without him, to his equally clamorous remarks upon their return. Only when Freddy chanced to mention that Crawley had sent him upstairs to finish his studies did she realize that he had left out one rather important detail.

  “Is his lordship still in the house, Freddy?”

  “Oh, yes, he is waiting in the drawing room. I told Peters I would fetch you so he needn’t do so,” he added casually.

  “Well, then you ought to have done so straightaway, you unnatural boy. I must go down at once and hope his lordship does not think I have been snubbing him on purpose.”

  She entered the drawing room a few moments later to find Crawley standing just inside the doorway, looking down at the side table where Townshend had left the invitations.

  “Oh, goodness,” Felicia said, “I never meant to leave those there. I’ll just put them in the drawer of my writing table.” She collected them and put them away, turning back to him to ask, “Was there something in particular you wanted of me, sir?”

  He had been watching her rather closely, she thought, but he smiled and said, “I was hoping for a reward for letting that dratted boy tool me all over Hyde Park. We saw Dickon driving his brutish chestnuts with Lawrence beside him, clinging to his seat for dear life whenever they shied at oncoming carriages or a sudden noise. Lord, but those horses are poorly trained! He’s no business to have them in Town at all, but it will do no good to search him out just now, and I thought a change of company would be pleasant. May I take you for a drive, ma’am?”

  Delighted, she told him she would just run upstairs to fetch her pelisse and be with him directly.

  11

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS passed quickly, for Felicia’s obligations included not only the usual family and household duties, but the laying-in of an unexpected shipment of wine from Oakley and Campion, a task that took several hours, since Lord Adlam, though extremely particular, saw no reason to exert himself when he could simply ask her to oversee its bestowal. And every spare minute between duties and engagements seemed to be spent in final fittings for new gowns. The Season was now in full swing, and both Adlam sisters required gowns for their aunt’s ball and the opening of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, as well as complete court dresses for the upcoming Drawing Room, where Lady Augusta was to present Theo to the queen.

  The one thing Felicia did not have to worry about was the portrait, for true to his word, Crawley brought Sir Richard back to the house the very next day, and Theo, seeming chastened for the moment—or resigned—behaved, as fa
r as her sister could tell, with all propriety and decorum.

  The sisters did find time for an afternoon’s shopping, and Felicia enjoyed two rides in the park with Crawley, although being forced to keep her mount to a walk or a trot made her wish it were possible to transport herself to Bradstoke just long enough for one wild gallop across the moors. She rather envied Freddy his daily lessons, too, for she thought learning to drive a curricle must be fun. She was kept entirely too busy to dwell for long on such thoughts, however.

  At the queen’s Drawing Room, Theo was in alt, and Felicia was pleased to see her in her finest looks. Both wore the requisite formal court dress with hoops, yards of lace, and white ostrich feathers in their headdresses. Theo’s gown was white with gilded trimming and pale blue ribbons, and Felicia wore a pink satin half dress, its skirt opening in the front and descending in points over a white muslin underskirt.

  “I never expected to see so many people,” Theo said, gazing about in awe as they passed through one of the many state rooms of Queen’s House leading into the famous State Drawing Room.

  Lady Augusta fluttered her fan at the heat. “Since it is the first court day since his majesty’s recovery from his illness, it is scarcely surprising that so many should attend.”

  “I had hoped to see the Princess of Wales,” Theo said, smoothing a crease in one long, white silk glove.

  Felicia smiled at her. “Concerned lest the Royal Academy select her portrait over yours, my dear?”

  “Not at all,” Theo said, laughing. “In point of fact, I heard that she is suffering from a mild indisposition and has been unable to sit for Mr. Lawrence for several days. I should not like my portrait to be chosen only because hers was not entered. I want everyone to know which is the best one.”

  Lady Augusta snorted. “Mighty sure of yourself, I must say, but self-conceit leads only to self-destruction, and it don’t do to outshine royalty. You would be well served if her highness suddenly took it into her head to demand to see you, to determine if you were much to fret over. Then where would you be?”

  Theo grinned saucily at her. “Why, I suppose I should be at Blackheath, ma’am. Is that not where she is living at present? I could not be so rude as to dismiss such a request, surely.”

  Lady Augusta shook her head in exasperation. “Let us move forward, so that we are not missed in the crush. There are to be several presentations, and you will not be the first, Theodosia. I believe that Viscountess Methuen is to have that honor.”

  “Who is she?” Theo demanded.

  Lady Augusta shrugged. “Irish.”

  Felicia had been watching the gathering throng and paid no heed to the ensuing discussion of who was or was not present. From what she could see, nearly everyone who was anyone was there. She saw at least four dukes, including Langshire, and two marquesses whom she remembered from her previous Season. But there were many other lords and ladies, most of the political men, and all the new members of the administration, who had taken office a few days before, after Mr. Pitt’s resignation. She nodded and smiled to those she knew, and before long her party was joined by Lady Crawley and Belinda, who had arrived shortly after them with Lady Dacres, Mrs. Falworthy, and Miss Oakley.

  Felicia had been presented during her first Season, so she stayed with Lady Dacres while Belinda and Theo went on with Lady Augusta and Lady Crawley. Mrs. Falworthy and Miss Oakley remained with her, for Miss Oakley, though accorded the privilege of attending the Drawing Room, did not expect to be presented.

  There were quite a number of presentations, as Lady Augusta had predicted, including six young ladies enjoying their first Season, a captain of the navy on his appointment as a new Lord of the Admiralty, and a stern-looking gentleman who was announced to be the New Equerry to her majesty’s son, the Duke of Cumberland. By the time each member of the new administration had been presented and allowed to kiss the royal hand, the room was hot and stuffy, and by the time the court officially closed at five o’clock, Felicia felt as though she could scarcely breathe. But she soon learned that the court’s closing meant only that the queen and royal princesses were departing. The rest of the company did not even begin to leave the palace until after six.

  Theo was displeased that neither Sir Richard nor Lord Crawley had been among those attending the Drawing Room. “I should have liked them both to see me in my finery,” she said, as they waited for her ladyship’s carriage to draw up before the long red carpet laid along the walk leading from the circular drive to the main entrance.

  Belinda, close behind them, said, “I daresay we shall see Dickon Saturday at Lady Castlereagh’s ball, but Ned has gone out of town. His friend Thorne was leaving today for Langshire, and Ned said something about riding to Watford with him to watch a mill since he was not expected at Adlam House this morning. Sir Richard can do no more work on your portrait, he said, until the background oils are completely dry.”

  Felicia smiled. “It was as well that Sir Richard did not want Theo to sit today. We have scarcely had a spare moment.”

  Theo tossed her head. “I told him a week ago that he needn’t think I would sit today, or that I would be available the morning after the opening of Almack’s, for I intend to stay until they put the orchestra to bed.”

  Felicia, assuring herself that she inquired only to prevent further such comments—unfortunately too easily overheard by others waiting for their carriages—said quickly to Belinda, “Did you say that your brother had left town?”

  Belinda nodded. “He is free now, he said, to go about his own business for a few days. I think he and Thorne mean to go on to Newmarket for the races, and I think that Perry—that is, Lord Dawlish—must have gone with them today, though he never said he meant to do so. I had expected to see him here.”

  Felicia noted a look of self-consciousness on Belinda’s face, and the younger girl avoided her gaze for a moment before she seemed to realize that she was doing so and made a visible effort to collect herself. Smiling at her, Felicia said, “No doubt there are matters of importance to occupy all three gentlemen. Sir Richard has frequently said he has any number of things he can do when Theo cannot sit for him.”

  “A comment clearly meant to depress my consequence,” Theo said, tossing her head again, “but I happen to know that since the Princess of Wales has been unable to sit for Lawrence, Sir Richard thinks there will be no portrait to match mine. That, if you must know the truth, is why I was hoping to see her today. I want to see that man’s crest lowered a bit, that’s all.”

  They did see Sir Richard at Lady Castlereagh’s ball two nights later, and by that time Felicia was able to provide Mr. Townshend with a copy of the invitation that had been sent out to their guests. The three ladies, and Lady Adlam, had argued and fretted over the exact wording for days, but when Felicia had recalled that all anyone need do was get hold of the invitation and copy it, they decided at last to seek some other method of foiling the forger.

  “Such invitations are always written on cream-colored or white cards, are they not?” Felicia said. “Aunt Augusta, would it be entirely unthinkable to use another color?”

  Lady Augusta frowned. “It is simply not done, my dear.”

  Theo said, “Pink!”

  Lady Adlam, reclining in comfort on a sofa with a blanket over her feet, sighed. “Oh, how pretty they would be, my love, but I do not think you ought to. So noticeable, you know.”

  Lady Augusta snapped, “That would not do at all.”

  “Oh, but it might do very well, ma’am,” Felicia said. “Only think if we used gilt-edged pink cards and similar colors for our decorations. The ballroom in your house has pink and gold paper on the walls, does it not?” Seeing with relief that her aunt was at least willing to consider the notion, she pressed on, “Only think how your party will stand out from all the others if we tell all the ladies to wear at least a touch of pink, and provide pink nosegays for the gentlemen to pin on their lapels. You have already let it be known that Theo’s portrait will be unve
iled. We can use a pink satin drape for the easel, and tell the chef to use pink in the refreshments wherever he can. And with gilt-edged pink cards, surely the forger—whoever it is—would not dare try to copy them, for the stationers would know in an instant what must be the purpose. And everyone else would think we had been amazingly clever. Don’t you agree?”

  Lady Augusta did not agree at once, but in the end she had done so, and the cards had been ordered and laboriously inscribed in the elegant copperplate they all did so well.

  Mr. Townshend was justifiably pleased with them, and Felicia was conscious of a wish that Crawley could be at hand to see that she had come up with an excellent notion without the least bit of advice from him. But the fact was that she missed him, and she wondered how long he meant to stay out of town. The Castlereagh ball was pleasant, and she danced frequently, as always, but it was not nearly so much fun as those parties to which Crawley and his friends had escorted them.

  When Dawlish approached her midway through the evening, she greeted him with undisguised pleasure. “We had thought you must have gone out of town with Crawley,” she told him, accepting his invitation to step outside for some fresh air.

  The doors stood open, and there were others enjoying the coolness of the late evening on the broad brick terrace. The garden below had been lit by torches, and a silvery moon hovered overhead, casting its glow on the scene.

  Dawlish drew Felicia a little to one side and said bluntly, “I say, Miss Adlam, is there aught awry with Miss Crawley? She has begun behaving in the most peculiar fashion. Her mama has noticed it. I’ve noticed it. Dashed well everyone has noticed.”

  Felicia could not pretend she did not understand him, for she, too, had been aware for some time that Belinda Crawley’s behavior had altered, and not for the better. “I think, perhaps, she has merely become more confident of herself now that the Season has begun in earnest, sir. The first few weeks are always a bit unnerving for a young girl, you know.”