by Carola Dunn
Meg said mischievously, “I shall tell Mr. DeVine you illustrated splendidly his explanation of the difference between a sporting gentleman, who wagers on sports, and a sportsman, who participates."
"Good gad, don't tell me you were watching, too!"
"No, alas. Mama would not let me open the door until she was sure it was over."
The dowager, having slipped from the room unnoticed, now returned with salve and bandages. In her quiet way she insisted on examining the marquis's hands for bruises and abrasions. Though he let her spread salve on his knuckles, he refused bandages.
"I could not put on gloves over them, ma'am,” he explained. “They would be noticed. The quieter we keep this business, the better for everyone, I believe.” He threw a minatory glance at Meg.
"Surely you trust Mr. DeVine's discretion,” she teased.
Her mother intervened in one of her infrequent exercises of authority. “You will tell no one, Meg dear. There is no need for Jason to know, since Lord Hazlewood has dealt with the man, and Penny cannot want it known that she has so ... so barbaric a relative."
"Mr. Vaughn is no blood relation, Mama,” Thea reminded her. She was worried about Penny's continuing muteness. “He married Penny's mama's sister."
"So he has no legal claim on Lady Kilmore whatever,” said Lord Hazlewood in relief. “I am glad to hear it. Now, ladies, pray let us put the whole affair behind us. I am come to invite you all to dine in Arlington Street on Wednesday."
"The Kilmores again!” hissed Lady Hazlewood. Her irritation got the better of her sense of propriety. “Are you enamoured of that woman? She is large enough for you, at all events."
"Lady Kilmore has an admirably statuesque figure,” Rod agreed mildly, “and I have considerable respect for her, but no, I am in no way enamoured. Even in my salad days I never stole another man's wife."
"He would not stand in your way, I daresay. The on-dit is that he has already tired of the vulgar mushroom and spends all his time in the clubs."
Troubled, Rod was unable to refute the scandalmongers. He himself had seen Jason Kilmore at White's, Brooks's, and Boodle's, engaged in the admittedly innocuous occupation of talking to members. Still, it was none of his affair. “He will accompany the ladies on Wednesday,” he said. He had made sure of that before setting the date.
"Wednesday! In my state of health, how do you expect me to arrange a dinner party at such short notice?"
"If my cook cannot provide a first-rate dinner with four days’ notice, I shall dismiss him. If you are not well enough to produce a list of guests in an hour or so, I shall do so myself—and ask Aunt Anne to be my hostess."
His provocation succeeded. “You cannot be serious. Anne has no more notion of ... I am perfectly capable of making up a list, Hazlewood, but if you wish to invite more than four or five, I fear my hand is too weak to write so many invitations so quickly."
"I daresay my next speech in the House can wait long enough for Johnson to send out a dozen invitations.” In fact, his secretary almost invariably dealt with the marchioness's correspondence as well as his own. The poor relation hired to perform that office for her, accused of fretting her nerves to flinders, had been dismissed. No doubt she was much happier in her present post as companion to his eldest sister.
John Johnson was another distant cousin in reduced circumstances. A reserved, scholarly man a few years older than Rod, he was not at all surprised when his employer told him not to send out any invitations without his approval of the list. He took it up to the marquis's dressing-room shortly before dinner.
Neckcloth in hand, Rod scanned it. “Oh lord, this will never do,” he groaned.
"Need a hand with your cravat?” asked Will, appearing on the doorstep.
"Thank you, no. I prefer to be able to breathe. No, it's this list Mother has made up for dinner on Wednesday."
Will took it and perused it with growing indignation. “I'll be damned if she hasn't invited all the dullest, starchiest people in Town!"
"And those least likely to entertain the Kilmores later on,” said Rod grimly, winding snow-white muslin about his neck and tying it in a neat, plain knot. “I'll wear the topaz pin, Pelham."
"John, have you a pencil?” Will demanded. “Thanks. The Venables and the Fetherstonehaughs can go for a start.” He drew a firm line through their names.
"Yes, substitute the Duke and Duchess of Trent. He is a dolt and she has a malicious tongue, but she did at least speak to Lady Kilmore. Besides, they do entertain, and a duke always adds a certain cachet to an occasion."
"With luck she will keep my aunt happy, too. We'll have to do away with Lord Henry, even if he is her brother. He's a crashing bore. And the Drummond Burrells—far too high in the instep. Lord and Lady Cowper will be much better.” He scribbled busily. “Good gad, the Trevelyans!"
"Mother must have thought including one of my political associates would make me overlook the rest,” said Rod absently as his valet helped him don his coat. “She left Aunt Anne off, did she not? Write her in. Who were those people Miss Megan was talking to?"
"Giddy Turner, his mother and sister, and the Lewins.” The pencil flew.
"That should do it. I don't want the Kilmores overwhelmed by a crowd."
Will gave the new list to the secretary, who rapidly read down it. “Too many females, sir,” he said. “You will need another five gentlemen to balance the table."
"You shall attend, John,” said Rod. “And we had really better put Uncle Henry back. Any friends of yours, Will?"
"Most of ‘em are terrified of my aunt. I could probably talk Pretty Pritchard into it."
"That would be the Honourable Everett Pritchard?” asked Johnson warily.
"Right. He has lodgings at the Albany. Who else?"
"Add Lord Stewart,” Rod instructed. “I met him at Brooks's the other day. He's out of mourning for his wife and he's an obliging fellow. Is that enough?"
"One more, sir."
"Uncle Reggie,” Will proposed. “They know him. He'll make up for your Uncle Henry, coz, the one an unmitigated bore, the other guaranteed to liven things up."
"I'm not sure I want things quite that lively, but you're right, they are acquainted with him."
"That will be twenty-six altogether, a good number,” said the secretary with satisfaction. “I'll send the invitations out tonight."
Twenty-six was considerably more than Rod had intended. He was afraid such a crowd would overawe Thea. But it was she who wanted her sister launched and her sister-in-law accepted in Society.
"Excellent, “he said.
CHAPTER TEN
"Thea, do you think the amber beads are dowdy?” Penny asked anxiously.
"Not at all. They are perfect with that russet silk."
"And modest enough not to offend? I do not want people to stare at me and think, ‘Ah yes, the heiress.’”
"My dear, you are every inch a lady.” Jason came into the dressing-room and dropped a light kiss on his wife's cheek. “Your gown is stylish, yet not so dernier cri as to arouse envy. The colour is perfect for you. You look very well tonight."
Thea thought she looked beautiful, and wished her brother had said so. Penny took his words differently.
"I feel well, Jason,” she said, with a pleading glance that he did not notice as, at that moment, he turned to the mirror to straighten his neckcloth.
He was still sleeping in his dressing-room every night, Thea knew. In fact, everyone knew it. Her mother considered that he was showing a praiseworthy concern for Penny's delicate condition, so Thea kept to herself her own opinion that he was only making Penny miserable. But even if she had had more faith in her own perspicacity, she was quite unable to imagine herself telling her brother to sleep with his wife.
That worry faded when they reached the cul-de-sac at the end of Arlington Street and came to a halt behind a line of carriages turning into the Hazlewoods’ courtyard. Meg peered out of the window.
"How splendid! There w
ill be dozens of people at dinner,” she said excitedly.
"Oh, no!” Thea was dismayed. “I expected a small party, little more than ourselves and the Hazlewood household."
Jason laughed. “Hardly! I imagine Hazlewood merely added us to an existing guest list, though he'd have to invite a few extra gentlemen as well. Don't worry, Thea.” He reached across and patted her hand. “You can lose yourself in the crowd."
The carriage moved on, then jolted to a sudden stop. “Tha great gowk!” Scargill bawled from the box as some other coachman cut him off in the confusion. Fortunately, his North Country insult went unheeded. A moment later they pulled up before the magnificent portico, brightly lit by modern gas lamps.
George, in his blue-and-maroon livery, jumped down from the back. He rushed to vie with one of the Hazlewood footmen in opening the carriage door, letting down the step, and handing out the ladies.
Thea shivered as she stepped down. It was all very well Jason saying she could lose herself in the crowd, but at dinner she'd have to sit between two gentlemen, who would expect her to converse with them. As host, the marquis would take in the highest-ranking lady guest. As an unmarried lady of no importance, Thea could not expect to sit anywhere near him.
No doubt Will DeVine had arranged to partner Meg, while Jason and Penny, being comparatively newly wed, might well go in together. The best Thea dared hope for was to have either Will or Jason seated beside her. Her partner was sure to be a stranger.
The butler announced them, and they proceeded into the long drawing-room. Lord Hazlewood stepped forward to greet them, but his mother was there before him.
Gliding forward, the marchioness took the dowager's hand and cooed, “I am so happy you were able to come. My dear madam, let me make you acquainted with my guests. Lady Cowper, have you met Lady Kilmore? One of the dearest companions of my youth, you must know. We lost touch over the years and met again recently by the luckiest chance."
Utterly bewildered, the dowager stammered a few words to Lady Cowper, then her hostess swept her on towards the Duchess of Trent.
Emily Cowper, a twinkle in her grey eyes, said to Jason, “I met your wife the other day, Kilmore. You are a lucky man. Lady Kilmore, permit me to present my husband."
Will DeVine and Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes were bearing down on Meg, the former moving with deceptively casual swiftness, the latter making no effort to disguise his wheezing eagerness.
Amused, Lord Hazlewood said to Thea, “It was my cousin's notion to invite his uncle. I wager he had forgotten he has a rival there."
"I daresay he is confident of his superior attractions. Sir, I do not understand why Lady Hazlewood called my mother an old friend. Mama has the vaguest recollection of having once exchanged bows with her, but they were never on anything approaching intimate terms. And when we came before...” She hesitated.
"She scarcely treated Lady Kilmore as a long-lost bosom bow. I'd not say this to anyone else, but I suspect my mother is simply protecting her reputation."
"For exclusivity? Yes, of course. She would not want anyone to guess that you coerced her into entertaining a family she holds in contempt."
"Not contempt! You must believe Will when he says that she disapproves of half the ton."
"But you did coerce her, did you not, sir?"
He smiled down at her. “In the mildest fashion. I told her that if she did not care to act as my hostess for this dinner, I should invite Aunt Anne to do so. Ah, here are the Trevelyans. Come and meet them. Trevelyan and I worked together on a government select committee this past year."
Thea turned as the butler announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan."
Mr. Trevelyan looked quite ordinary. His petite young wife reminded Thea of Meg. Though her eyes were a startling blue, her curls black rather than dark brown, she had the same lively, friendly air.
Her husband frowned when the marquis introduced Thea. Mrs. Trevelyan seemed somewhat startled but she said cordially, “I am happy to meet you, Miss Kilmore. Is your brother here?"
"Alison!” said Mr. Trevelyan on a warning note.
"Yes, Jason is here,” said Thea, puzzled, “and my new sister-in-law."
"We saw the announcement of his marriage in the Gazette, did we not, Philip? I was so pleased. I should like to meet Lady Kilmore."
"Later, perhaps.” Mr. Trevelyan took her arm in a firm clasp. “Pray excuse us, Miss Kilmore. We must speak to our hostess.” They moved on.
The dawning dismay on Lord Hazlewood's face jogged Thea's memory. “Alison!” she whispered. “Oh, surely not!"
"I'm afraid so,” he said grimly. “What a fool I am! I should have known Mother would not invite my friend only to be conciliating, but I have little patience with gossip and the connection momentarily slipped my mind."
"Then it was Mrs. Trevelyan Jason once attempted to abduct? And everyone knows? What will she do?"
"I cannot guess. Fortunately Trevelyan appears to be in command of himself and his wife and to have no particular desire to come to cuffs with your brother. But how do you know the tale? Surely he did not tell you?"
"No, he told Penny.” Thea racked her brains to recall what Penny had said. “Of course, she was Alison Something Else then. With luck, Penny will not find out who Mrs. Trevelyan is."
"I sincerely hope not. I would not have had this happen for the world."
She laid her hand on his arm. “You must not think that I hold you accountable for ... oh, dear!"
He grimaced. “For my mother's troublemaking? Thank you, my dear."
"Oh no, I am sure Lady Hazlewood cannot have realized how awkward the situation would be."
"You are generous.” He would have said more, but Mr. Glubb-ffoulkes came creaking up to them.
"Delighted to discover I'm to take you in to dinner, Miss Kilmore,” he puffed, beaming.
Mr. DeVine's uncle proved an undemanding dinner partner. Most of his attention was concentrated on the succession of superb dishes set before them, from which he helped both himself and Thea with a lavish hand. On the rare occasions when he opened his mouth other than to put food in it, he entertained her with descriptions of the marvels to be found on the Prince Regent's table.
"Carême's the most highly paid chef in history,” he informed her, “and he's worth every farthing. Prinny bribed him away from that Frenchie, Tallyho."
Tallyho sounded like an extraordinary name for a Frenchman, but Thea did not venture to quibble. She watched Meg, opposite, laughing with Will, and wished she could see her mother and Penny, who were both on the same side of the long table.
Her other neighbour was a Lord Stewart, who introduced himself to her as they sat down. A gentleman in his early forties, he had a pleasant face strongly marked by signs of grief. He had brought in Lady Anne, and during the first course Thea heard him conversing gravely with the self-announced bluestocking on some medical topic.
He turned to her as the second course was carried in. “I understand your home is in the North, Miss Kilmore,” he said, and with a few kindly questions soon had her chatting about Newkirk, and about country life in general. She carefully avoided the subject of vegetable gardening.
All in all, dinner was not half so frightening as she had expected.
When the ladies retired to the drawing-room, leaving the gentlemen to circulate the port and brandy, Thea went straight to Penny. So did Alison Trevelyan.
Seeing no polite alternative, Thea introduced them. “Penny, this is Mrs. Trevelyan. Ma'am, my sister-in-law, Lady Kilmore."
"I have been hoping to make your acquaintance, Lady Kilmore,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, with a smile in which Thea could read nothing but friendly interest. “Your home is in Russell Square, I understand? I was brought up just around the corner, in Great Ormond Street."
As they chatted about the neighbourhood, Thea began to relax. Penny was cheerful and looking well. If Mrs. Trevelyan held any grudge against Jason for her abduction, she gave no sign of it. Artlessly charming, she was as different f
rom the spoiled, feather-headed Henrietta as one pretty, dainty young lady could possibly be from another. Thea had never understood why her brother chose to elope with Henrietta, but she felt he might well have been genuinely enamoured of the present Mrs. Trevelyan.
"I shall be holding my first formal dinner party soon,” Mrs. Trevelyan confided. “I do hope you will come, Lady Kilmore, Miss Kilmore, and your mother and sister, of course. I shall send you an invitation without fail. Now excuse me, pray. I must speak to Lady Cowper.” She pattered off.
"I like her,” said Penny. “And it is such a relief to meet someone else who was not brought up among the aristocracy. Meg will be pleased with the invitation. I daresay she will receive others, for she appears to be on excellent terms with those two girls over there."
Thea glanced at her sister, who was giggling with a pair of young ladies who looked familiar. “I believe those are the two she met here before. How thoughtful of Lord Hazlewood to invite them. And Mama is having a comfortable cose with Lady Anne. Oh Penny, the Duchess of Trent is coming this way. I hope she does not mean to join us."
"Fustian! It will do our credit no end of good if her grace chooses to speak to us. Good evening, ma'am."
"Good evening, Lady Kilmore, Miss Kilmore.” The duchess, an imposing woman in black silk, swooped down upon them like a crow on a cornfield. Her mocking smile was directed at Penny. “How wise of you to accept Mrs. Trevelyan's overtures,” she said.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am? I fear I don't understand you."
Thea understood, all too well. Her grace must have guessed that Penny didn't know who Alison Trevelyan was. Bent upon mischief, she was about to enlighten her.
"Why, are you not aware that your husband once ran off with Mrs. Trevelyan? Alison Larkin, she was then. Of course, that was in his salad days, all of five months since."
Penny turned quite white, but she straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “I hardly think, ma'am, that it is proper in any wife to enquire into her husband's wild oats. Unmarried gentlemen are traditionally granted a certain licence, are they not?"