Undone - Virginia Henley

by Virginia Henley

  The maid came to the door. "The carriage is ready, my lady."

  "Shall we take Dandy?" When Elizabeth nodded eagerly, Charlie asked her maid to get the dog's leash.

  Elizabeth and Charlotte climbed into the carriage and opened their frilled parasols. They sat facing the horses with Dandy between them, while the maid, Jane, took the seat opposite. The driver tooled the open carriage along Piccadilly in the direction of Hyde Park, turned at Park Lane

  , then slowly circled onto the Serpentine Road

  . It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and the park was crowded with ladies walking and riding in their carriages.

  Lady Charlotte was greeted by everyone they passed, while Beth received a great number of curious stares. It was the first time she had been in the fashionable park, and as they crossed the bridge over the Serpentine, she searched the crowd to see if she could spot Maria and her mother. Suddenly, Elizabeth froze. Riding toward them were Will Cavendish and John _Whateverhisnamewas_!

  *Chapter Eight*

  Early that morning when Will had entered the Devonshire House stables, he was surprised to see that John's horse was still there. It told him that his friend had not returned to Sundridge, Kent, last night, but must have stayed at his town-house in Half-Moon Street

  . At lunchtime, when John came for his black Thoroughbred, Demon, Will told him he was hoping to encounter Charlie in Hyde Park and begged his company.

  As the two riders left Rotten Row and cantered toward the Serpentine Bridge, Will turned to John with a triumphant grin. "Here comes Charlotte, and if I'm not mistaken she is accompanied by a lady of _your_ acquaintance."

  John turned accusing eyes on Will. "You knew they'd be together when you asked me to ride with you."

  "I didn't _know_ ... I simply surmised from something Charlie said."

  The men immediately reined in and waited for the carriage to clear the bridge. Charlotte instructed the driver to stop. When he did so, Will Cavendish urged his mount to Charlie's side of the coach. John guided Demon to the opposite side, removed his tall beaver hat, and gave a curt nod. "Mistress Gunning."

  Elizabeth's violet eyes blazed with fury. "My sister informs me that your name is _Sundridge_ not Campbell!"

  "It is both. I am John Campbell, Baron Sundridge."

  Her eyes widened. "You are a _lord_! I had no idea!"

  "There are likely many things you don't know about me."

  "Such as?" Her challenge was direct.

  "I am a soldier," he said simply, omitting that he held the military rank of major.

  _I should have guessed! He has the dangerous, savage look of a warrior_. "You might have told me these things, Lord Sundridge."

  "And you might have told me that becoming an actress was only a flight of your imagination ... a game you like to play." Her face beneath the rose parasol glowed with a tantalizing translucent beauty that played havoc with his senses.

  Elizabeth's lashes fluttered to her cheeks, then she raised them and smiled into his dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

  _By God, if you enjoy playing games, Elizabeth, there's a few I'd love to play with you_! "A truce. Shall we begin over, proud Titania?"

  She laughed. "We shall, my Lord Oberon." Dandy barked his approval and they laughed together.

  Will leaned down from his saddle to speak confidentially with Lady Charlotte. "If you rode tomorrow, at an early hour, it would make me extremely happy."

  "Elizabeth is staying with me. Perhaps a ride would amuse her, especially if we encounter other riders of our acquaintance."

  Will grinned down at her, taking her meaning. "I shall do my best to keep him in Town until tomorrow."

  As the carriage bowled down Piccadilly, Charlie asked, "You do ride, Elizabeth?"

  Lost in a dreamy reverie, Beth twirled her parasol. "Yes, I ride," she answered absently, imagining the compelling John Campbell in military uniform, astride his black Thoroughbred.

  "Wonderful! I've accepted an invitation for us to ride in Rotten Row tomorrow morning," Charlie said breathlessly.

  "What?" Beth cried. "I mean, I beg your pardon, Charlie?"

  She had ridden farm horses and lots of ponies in Ireland but always bareback, never with a saddle. "I... I didn't bring my horse with me nor did I pack my riding habit." _Both of which are nonexistent_!

  Charlie laughed merrily as the carriage slowly turned through the gates into the Burlington courtyard. "Our stables are filled with riding horses. Come, we'll go now and choose a mount for you."

  Elizabeth felt dismay. Even the sight of Dandy cocking his leg up against the carriage wheel didn't divert her apprehension. Once inside the stables, however, her anxiety was swept away when she saw the horses close-up. She had an affinity for all animals, and soon she was stroking their necks and murmuring soft words.

  "Amber seems to like you," Charlie prompted.

  "She's a beauty. Her coat is like satin. May I really ride her?" She glanced over at the saddles. "I suppose you ride sidesaddle here in London. In Ireland I always rode astride."

  "Oh, how exciting! I'm afraid it will have to be sidesaddle on our morning ride in Rotten Row. Come on, let's find you a habit and some riding boots."

  Elizabeth stood on a chair while a Burlington House sewing woman took down the hem on one of Lady Charlotte's habits. The jade green riding dress fit her slender figure to perfection except for its short length. Charlie's boots also were not a bad fit, as both girls had rather small feet.

  They took dinner trays in Charlotte's chamber, since the earl and his chief architect, William Kent, were eating in the formal dining room, going over plans for a new house they were building on the vast Burlington acreage that her father had decided to call Burlington Gardens. After dinner, Charlie took her on a tour of the picture gallery and into the library. Elizabeth was overawed at the number of books on the shelves. "I could spend a year in here without ever leaving." She didn't envy Charlie's clothes, servants, or mansion, but she certainly coveted the books.

  The two friends talked late into the night, discussing everything from Royal Court

  presentations to Almack's, but finally Elizabeth retired to the adjoining bedchamber. No sooner did she put her head on the pillow than it seemed a maid was knocking with her breakfast tray. Then it was time to dress for their ride.

  Her reflection in the oval mirror told her that jade green was a most flattering color. She quickly gathered her hair into a Grecian knot, firmly pinned on the matching small hat with its jaunty feather, and felt extremely elegant.

  At the stables a groom led Amber to the mounting block and, feigning confidence, Elizabeth climbed into the saddle as if she had done so every morning of her life. She positioned her legs exactly the same as Charlie did and took the reins into her gloved hands. The groom mounted his own horse and led the way across Piccadilly into Green Park. They cantered to the end of the park, crossed back over Piccadilly, and entered Hyde Park. At this early hour on Sunday morning there were no pedestrians or carriages, only a few mounted riders. By the time they slowed to a trot, Elizabeth had gained full confidence. By the time they spotted the two gentlemen riding toward them and their well-trained groom fell back to give them privacy, she felt ready for anything.

  Almost anything.

  She was not prepared for John Campbell to dismount, stride to her stirrup, and raise his powerful arms to her. She was not prepared to be lifted from the saddle and held aloft by sheer brute strength. She was not prepared for the excited rush of her blood as he slowly lowered her to brush against his muscled thighs until her feet touched the ground. Nor was she prepared for his murmured, "Good morning, my beauty," or the brush of his hot mouth against her cheek as his dark, intense gaze devoured her.

  _It is exactly like in my dreams, except we are not naked_! Elizabeth suddenly blushed as if that's exactly what they were. She swayed against him, dizzied by the intimate closeness and her own wanton thoughts. She felt his strong hands gripping her waist, steadying her, and imagined she felt
his heat through the cloth.

  They walked slowly, side by side, leading their horses along the bridle path. "Beth, I want to spend time with you, and Will wants to spend time with Lady Charlotte, but such an arrangement takes a deal of planning and plotting, or the gossips will have a heyday."

  "As we plotted and planned for this ride today?"

  "Exactly. But in the middle of Hyde Park, all I can do is lift you in and out of the saddle. I'd like us to spend time alone."

  "My mother would never permit that, my lord."

  His mouth curved in a smile at her innocence. "There's safety in numbers. Will has a plan for next weekend. The Boyles have a Palladian villa at Chiswick on the Thames. Charlie will get her mother to invite everyone--the Cavendish sisters, the Gunning sisters, perhaps the Ponsonby girl, and naturally an equal number of the opposite sex. Then the following weekend, the Cavendishes will reciprocate by inviting everyone to their country place at Oxted in Surrey, which happens to be just a short four-mile ride from my home at Sundridge, Kent."

  "Where we can be alone? Such an ingenious plan. What happens if I don't accept these invitations?" Elizabeth teased.

  "Then you leave me in the clutches of Lady Rachel Cavendish who has pursued me shamefully for the past two years."

  "If you've managed to elude her for two years, I don't believe you are in any danger of succumbing to her charms, my lord."

  "I feel in imminent danger of succumbing to _your_ charms, Beth."

  _I am the one in danger, and we both know it, you wicked devil. I've been in danger since your first predatory glance._

  Rotten Row was no longer deserted, and other riders cantered by.

  "I believe it is time for me to lift you into the saddle."

  She glanced up and impulsively confided, "This is the first time I've ever used a sidesaddle. I usually ride astride."

  He pictured her mounted on a Thoroughbred. It was only a short step for his imagination to picture her astride him, and he hardened instantly. He captured her tiny waist between his hands and deftly managed to brush her against his hard length as he lifted her into the saddle. He watched her lashes sweep to her cheeks; when she lifted them, the impact of her violet eyes took his breath away. He kissed her fingers then touched his heart. "I shall see you in Chiswick, if not before."

  She smiled a secret smile. "Perhaps, Lord Sundridge."

  On the way back to Burlington House, Charlotte told Elizabeth about the plan Will Cavendish had concocted.

  "Will your mother agree to invite everyone to Chiswick?"

  "Of course she will. Mother is an angel, and I think she is secretly hoping for a match between Lord Harrington and me."

  "Unless my sister, Maria, is invited, I doubt my mother will allow me to come to Chiswick."

  "Of course we will invite Maria. Do stop worrying, Elizabeth."

  They were back in time to attend a short service in the Burlington House chapel, then it was time for Beth to bid Charlie good-bye. She felt reluctant to leave but knew deep down inside it was actually reluctance to go home. Out from beneath her mother's critical eye, she had been filled with carefree exuberance and vitality. Lady Boyle was indeed an angel, when compared with her own mother.

  Charlie urged her to keep the green riding habit, insisting that she'd never wear it herself since jade made her skin look sallow. But when Maria saw the rose pink parasol and the riding dress, she became petulant.

  "If Elizabeth can have a parasol, I want one too! I don't want a riding habit, because I hate horses, but I think I should get a new afternoon dress."

  "We will go shopping soon," Bridget assured her, "but in the meantime I'm sure Elizabeth will lend you the parasol. Now, tell us all the details of your stay at Burlington House."

  It was a command. Beth knew full well that her mother would criticize her carriage drive in the park, when she and Maria had had to walk. She also realized that the early-morning horseback ride would earn her mother's disapproval. Over the years she had learned to protect herself by being selective. She recounted every dish she had eaten and every word she had exchanged with the countess. "We spent last evening in the Burlington House library. They have so many books it would take a year to read them all." She watched Maria shudder at such a notion, then added, "Today we attended a church service in their very own chapel."

  "It's a wonder you didn't die of boredom!" Maria looked smug. "I walked in Hyde Park, and it was no coincidence that I encountered the Earl of Coventry. He invited Mother and I to ride in his carriage. She cleverly let it drop that we would be attending the theater tomorrow night and Almack's on Wednesday."

  "There is no guarantee that he'll be at the theater, Maria. Don't forget that Parliament opens tomorrow," her mother warned.

  "What does that have to do with the earl?" Maria asked blankly.

  "As Earl of Coventry, he has a seat in the House, but George Norwich is also a professional politician. You should know these things, Maria. If you encourage him to talk about himself, you will hold him in the palm of your hand."

  "I've been thinking," Maria said. "I cannot wear the same gown to the theater and then to Almack's."

  "It is paramount for my plans that all three of us attend the theater tomorrow night. Mary left a bolt of lovely brocade. It shouldn't take you long to sew evening capes. None will know what is beneath the capes if you keep them on throughout the play. Then on Wednesday Maria can wear the white ball gown to Almack's."

  In spite of the wretched tight feeling in her chest, Elizabeth summoned her courage. "My birthday is Wednesday ... will I have my new gown in time?"

  "Ah, Elizabeth, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I'm afraid it won't be possible to lay out the money for your ball gown just yet. Your father had a run of bad luck and there are certain expenses, such as employing a ladies' maid, that I deem necessary for your future success. Oh, and speaking of birthdays, I've decided that you may turn seventeen, but Maria shall remain eighteen for another year. Seventeen and eighteen are ideal ages for marriage, whereas nineteen gives the definite impression that a young lady is desperate."

  _How can you possibly control how old we are_? But Elizabeth knew it was not only folly to protest but utterly impossible to challenge her mother's decisions.

  That night, when the Gunning sisters retired to their bedchamber, Maria stood in front of the mirror wearing the new evening cape Beth had sewn for her and twirling the new parasol, admiring the effect. "Mother thinks to teach me how to hold a man in the palm of my hand." Maria laughed slyly. "I already know how to hold a man in my hand _and_ curl my fingers around him." She demonstrated on the handle of the parasol. "It works far better, and faster, than talking politics."

  Elizabeth blushed profusely. She knew what Maria meant because of her intimate encounter with John Campbell this morning. "Take care. Mother wants us to get _marriage_ proposals, not indecent ones."

  "Oh, little Miss Chastity teaching _me_ about marriage proposals. I've already got an earl on my line ... and I shall allow him lots of _play_ before I ever attempt to reel him in."

  "I can't wait to meet your earl. Does he make your pulses race and steal your breath away, and does his touch make you weak at the knees, Maria?"

  "Of course not! I'm considering him as a husband, not a lover. It is the idea of becoming a countess that makes my heart beat faster. A duchess would be even better. Just the thought of being addressed as Your Grace takes my breath away."

  Later, after they retired and Elizabeth's dream began, she found herself alone with John Campbell.

  _He lifted her from the saddle, and she went down to him in a flurry of petticoats. As she stood captive in the circle of his arms, she brushed her hand against his hardness, curled her fingers, and squeezed._

  _"You are acting like a little whore! Is this one of the tantalizing games you like to play, Elizabeth?" he demanded._

  _"I am not a whore! I am a lady!"_

  _"You are an actress, pretending to be a lady. You may
be able to fool others, but you cannot deceive me. I know all your shameful secrets, Elizabeth Gunning!"_

  The next morning Bridget left the house early. She had a busy day ahead of her. The first stop she made was at an employment agency that specialized in providing ladies' maids to the well-to-do matrons of the _ton_. When she voiced her needs, she was shown into a room where half a dozen women, with hopeful looks on their faces, sat waiting to be employed.

  Bridget's sharp eyes were critical as she assessed each female. She found all of them to be cut from the same cloth. Each looked genteel, amenable, and shabby. She had definite ideas of what a ladies' maid should look like and none of them fit the bill. She took her leave and made her way to Drury Lane

  . She went directly to the casting hall used by all the theaters, where actors and actresses flocked in hope of being chosen for a small supporting role in one of the stage productions. Early in her career she and Peg Woffington had sat in this hall hours on end.

  "I'm looking for someone who can play the role of ladies' maid."

  When a dozen eager females stood up, Bridget explained, "You won't be acting your part on the stage but out in _real_ Society. I need someone with the confidence to mix with lords and ladies, earls and countesses, perhaps even royalty." When all twelve of the actresses remained standing, Bridget looked them over carefully. She wanted a woman around thirty, on the plain side, though not ugly. She also must have an air of command mixed with a little disdain. "You will have to act as ladies' maid and companion to two beautiful young ladies for the Winter Season. If your authority is questioned by anyone, you must be able to stand your ground, and you will, of course, report to me."

  Bridget selected three women and asked them questions so that she could not only hear their voices but assess the manner in which they spoke. She finally chose a tall woman with a ramrod-straight back and a flat chest, who held her nose in the air as if she smelled something offensive. "The pay is five shillings per week, and you will live at Great Marlborough Street