I laughed in spite of myself even as I winced at Theo’s pain. “All right, you may have the dance, since you worked so hard for it. Next time, though, ask ahead of time.”
“It was foolish of me not to realize you’d be in such high demand,” he acknowledged. “I certainly know better now.”
His arm brushed against mine as he reached for a canapé, and I felt an electric tingle go straight from my wrist to my head. Both cheeks started to warm.
“The early bird gets the worm, so they say.” I pretended to be fascinated by some pastries filled with chicken salad.
“Yes indeed. And it seems I’ve been lazy,” he sighed. “You’ll excuse me? I believe there are a few more feet I need to flatten.”
“Don’t you dare! We can’t be seen to monopolize one another. People will talk.”
He grinned. “I hope people talk about all the time I’m spending with a beautiful woman.”
I swallowed hard, and with difficulty.
“Are you hoping to compromise me?” I asked, trying hard to keep my tone light.
“Of course not. I prefer to win on my own merits.”
“And yet you’ve stooped to sabotage,” I tsked.
“Well, everyone needs a bit of help now and again.”
“Yes, indeed,” I said, and sighed before I could stop myself.
Jeremy cocked his head. “Is there something you need help with?”
“No, it’s something I need to sort out myself.”
His look was all sympathy. “Another grown-up thing?”
“Very.”
He nodded. “I won’t pry. But I will do my utmost to amuse and distract you by speaking only of bright, happy things. Did you enjoy the wedding?”
“I did,” I answered. “I know it’s very expected, but I like all weddings. They’re such purely happy occasions. At least, the ones I’ve been to have been.”
“That’s lucky,” he said. “There are few things sadder than an unhappy wedding. Except, perhaps, an unhappy marriage.” His mouth tightened momentarily. “But I think this pair will make a success of it. They seem quite made for each other.”
“How lucky for them. It’s such a rare thing.”
“Yes, it is,” he agreed quietly.
We drifted toward the door, but the crowd was too thick to get through, so we were left hovering next to the wedding cake.
“Quite the crush,” Jeremy murmured.
“Grand weddings,” I sighed, even though I can’t say I was too sorry the crowd was pushing the two of us closer together. “Everyone simply must accept the invitation.”
He sensed the weariness in my tone. “I take it you prefer something quieter?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I replied, toying with a vol-au-vent.
“Haven’t you? I thought most girls were brought up to spend their time dreaming of the day they’d be taken off the shelf.”
His smile was mischievous, and I was about to respond with something equally teasing, but then Freddie came swaying through the door. He saw me and waved enthusiastically, endangering the topiaries flanking the doorway.
“Miss Davies!” he hollered. “Here you are!”
He moved toward me, stumbling into an elderly lord who protested, “Careful!”
Freddie managed to drunkenly tip his hat to the man, then set it back on his head crookedly before resuming his journey. Other guests stared and smirked. One of the Arnold brothers tried to grab Freddie’s arm as he passed, but Freddie somehow managed to shake free.
Toby climbed to his feet from a chair where he’d been resting a twisted knee. “Now, now, Freddie, I think some fresh air would do you good. Come on, let’s get some.”
Freddie shoved Toby away, probably harder than he meant to. Toby stumbled backward, arms windmilling, and was fortunately saved from tumbling into a vase of ferns and lilies by one of the ushers.
“No, no, she wants to speak with me,” Freddie announced, reaching into a pocket and whipping out the note I’d sent him. My stomach and throat clenched simultaneously, and I could actually feel the blood leaving my head, hands, and feet. “Isn’t that right, Miss Davies?” Freddie continued, marching toward me, waving the note. “Isn’t that what you wrote here?” He stopped in front of me and made a production of unfolding the bit of paper. “‘Freddie, it’s very important that we meet privately and discuss what’s to be done. Please advise a place and time. Astra Davies.’ Can’t deny you wrote that, can you?” He refolded it and jabbed me in the chest with it.
Jeremy immediately stepped forward and pushed Freddie’s arm away. “You need to collect yourself, young man,” he told him, drawing himself up and giving Freddie that officer’s glare again. “You’re not fit for company.”
Freddie’s look turned surly. “Oh, you’re after him now?” he asked me. “What, did I not act fast enough? I thought that after the ball the other night …” He snorted, and I noticed several people in the crowd exchanging glances. Lady Crayle, the mother of the bride, was so enraged she was shaking. Her ice-blue moiré dress rippled, and the fur trim shimmered with the movement. The two girls who had passed Freddie and me in the hallway at the ball suddenly began whispering between themselves. Millicent, stationed nearby, glanced at them, then back at Freddie and me.
“You’re a tease, that’s what you are! A tease, dangling me and him and—” he threw out an arm, gesturing to the room at large and nearly slapping another Arnold brother, who ducked at just the right moment. “Whoever else. Anyone else had notes from her?”
The room was dead silent. Cee, David, and Joyce were all frozen. Porter shook his head. A certain kind of woman …
“That’s quite enough,” Jeremy said sharply. “You aren’t behaving like a gentleman. Remove yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” Freddie smirked.
But the look Jeremy gave him scalded the smile right off his face. “I will.”
Even I felt a little cowed. Freddie actually flinched, and when three footmen surrounded him, he went quietly. As he left, a few people shook their heads, muttering, “Disgraceful!” The looks some of them were casting my way suggested they weren’t only talking about Freddie. And now a sly smile was slithering its way across Millicent’s face.
I had to get out—their judgment was smothering me. The blood was pounding in my ears, and I felt lightheaded. I needed air. I turned and rushed through the nearest door, which opened onto the rose garden.
The rain had slowed from a downpour to a persistent drizzle. It would ruin my dress and straggle my hair but felt so soothing on my hot face I didn’t care. My head hurt, and it was strangely painful to swallow. I sucked in giant lungfuls of air, like the victim of a shipwreck who’s only just managed to find the surface.
How could I have been so stupid? I should never have sent Freddie that note! And now the place would be abuzz with that scene—five hundred of the country’s great and good would come away from this talking not about how lovely the bride’s dress was, but what a mess Freddie was and how Astra Davies was no better than she should be. Who would want to do business with either one of us? How could I take care of myself and those who depended on me if I couldn’t even get through one wedding without disaster?
The door opened and Jeremy slipped out, unfurling a large umbrella as he came and stood beside me.
“If you’d prefer to be alone, I’ll just leave this with you.” He offered the umbrella.
“That’s kind, thank you,” I said, wearily rubbing my forehead. “Freddie got the wrong end of the stick. That note wasn’t what it seemed.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Jeremy said.
“Yes, I do.” It was important that Jeremy not think poorly of me. “I’m stuck with this piece of his family’s company. There’s been a mess, and I wanted to try to sort it out. But that doesn’t seem likely now.”
“I wish I could help you,” Jeremy said after a few moments’ silence.
&n
bsp; “I’m not sure anyone can at this point.” I had a feeling even Cee would struggle to remain cheerful if she were in my shoes.
Jeremy reached out and gently patted my arm. I sighed and looked out at the sodden roses.
“I keep going to things like this, thinking they’ll cheer me up,” I commented darkly, “but then I always feel worse at the end of them.”
“Perhaps you should be less optimistic,” Jeremy suggested.
I glanced at him, and he smiled hesitantly. I smiled back.
“So I should accept Joyce’s invitation to spend the summer with her and David, but only expect terrible things?”
“Absolutely! It’s a hideous part of the world. The weather will be miserable, the bridle paths dreadful, and by the end of it your aunt’s house will seem like a paradise.”
“All right,” I chuckled. “Your task is set, Jeremy. I’m counting on you to help give me the worst summer of my entire life.”
He laughed and shook my hand. “Challenge accepted.”
* * *
Another ten minutes and I was fully composed and prepared to face the stares and whispers inside. But as I made my way back toward the dining room, one of the footmen stepped in front of me, blocking my way, and told me Lady Crayle wanted a word.
“She’ll want apologies, and she should have them,” I said to Jeremy. “I’ll just be a moment.” He nodded and went along while I was led to the nearby study.
Her ladyship stood in front of the unlit fireplace that dominated one entire wall. A full-length portrait of the second duke, dressed in ceremonial armor, hung just over her head, making me feel like I was being glared at by two people. Lady Crayle held a folded piece of paper in both hands, and she was pale with rage.
“Miss Davies,” she hissed, managing to pack an impressive amount of loathing into only three syllables.
“Lady Crayle, I’m so sorry,” I began. “Believe me, it was all a complete misunderstanding. Belinda’s such a dear, and I would never want—”
“How dare you mention my daughter’s name, after what you did!”
I had been moving toward her, hoping to at least close the physical gap between us (and make it harder for anyone to overhear), but now I stopped.
“Please, your ladyship, don’t blame me because Freddie—”
“Freddie! You know perfectly well this has nothing to do with Freddie!”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. It’s about this!” She brandished the paper she was holding.
Dear God, Millicent had done it. She’d shown someone the mislaid love note.
“Lady Crayle, that’s a mix-up! If you just bring in Lord Hampton, I’m sure he’ll be happy to explain.”
“I think it’s best he not know about this,” Lady Crayle responded. “Why should we mar his happy day with this evidence of your—your … oh, I can’t even say it! Girls like you—” She made a disgusted noise.
Bewildered, all I could do was stare. That only seemed to enrage her further.
“You know what you did!” she shrieked. “Sending desperate love letters to a man engaged to marry my daughter! And pretending all that time to be her friend! Cozying up so you could steal him later!”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I never wrote Lord Hampton any love note!”
“Oh no?” She thrust the paper into my hand and I opened it.
My Darling Hammy (Hammy!),
My heart broke a thousand times over when I heard about you and Belinda. Hammy, my darling, she doesn’t deserve you.
I didn’t bother to read any more. I could guess the tenor of it. “I never wrote this,” I said, folding it and handing it back to her.
She refused to take it, crossing her arms over her chest and stepping away from me as if she thought I was infectious.
“It’s your writing—I know it is,” she said tightly. “It matches that note Freddie has and the note you sent with that cheap bit of lace you gave as a wedding present.”
Cheap bit of lace? That had been in my family for more than fifty years and was made by specially trained nuns at a French convent (or so the story went). Mother and I had always thought that would be part of my wedding dress someday. Cheap bit of lace!
“Did Millicent give you this?” I demanded, thrusting the letter toward her once again. “I’ll admit, it’s an excellent forgery, which just so happens to be one of her talents.”
“It did not come from Lady Millicent, and how dare you suggest she might be guilty of such a sordid thing?” Lady Crayle’s nostrils flared. “We’ve all seen today what sort of a young woman you are, Miss Davies. Devious and grasping and … depraved! As a mother, it’s my duty to protect my daughter from influences such as yourself. You will not be tolerated in this house a moment longer. Leave now.”
There wasn’t much I could do. I gathered up my dignity (what little of it was left), turned, and opened the door. Two footmen were waiting, ready to deposit me back outside in the rain.
* * *
Thank God for Tommy Ruckle.
The footmen led me straight to the front door, handed over my umbrella, and left me to sort out how I was going to get back to Elmswood. I was contemplating the prospect of walking through sucking, ankle-deep mud when a cheerful voice to my left said, “Oh, hullo! Are you escaping as well?”
I looked over and saw Tommy Ruckle looking sheepish, with his tie loosened and a half-finished cigarette in one hand.
“Excuse my, uh, appearance,” he apologized, hastily doing up his shirt’s top button. “Not one for the glad rags, me.” He gestured to his clothes with the cigarette, dropping a bit of ash on his right spat.
“Mr. Ruckle,” I smiled ingratiatingly, “I’m afraid I’m not feeling very well. I don’t suppose you could drive me home, could you?”
“Course!” Tommy stubbed out his cigarette and ran me over to Elmswood, talking the whole time about a really excellent club he and his wife had recently discovered in London. “Do go when you’re next in town—their negro band is one of the best I’ve heard, and I consider myself quite the connoisseur.” He peered at the house through the rain-smeared windscreen. “Someone’s been pulling an architect’s leg, by the look of things.”
“I’ll let you get back,” I said, hopping out under the porte cochere. “Thank you, Mr. Ruckle, that was really sweet of you.”
“My, you’re early!” Alice exclaimed as I let myself in. “Is Toby not with you?”
“He’s staying a little longer,” I explained.
Alice looked confused but then shrugged. “Of course, men always have a little … extra celebrating to do, don’t they? What was the bride’s dress like? Please, give me all the details!”
“May I do it at dinner?” I pleaded. “I really could do with a nice hot bath.”
“Of course! Of course, my dear. Oh, how silly and selfish of me. You go right on up, and I’ll tell your maid you want her.” She gently pushed me toward the staircase and disappeared through a door to the servants’ hall.
I waited in the green toile bedroom for Reilly, who materialized, smiling, and asked if I’d had a pleasant time.
“I did not, Reilly,” I answered tightly. “And I think you know why.”
Her smile faltered and was replaced by a bewildered and—dare I say it?—frightened look.
“Miss?”
“You’ve been spending your days off with Lady Millicent’s maid, haven’t you?”
A long silence. Then, “I have, miss. We’re friends, she and I.”
“Oh? And you typically lie about having seen friends, then? In London you told me she was a stranger who asked for directions. You must see that it all looks very odd. It looks — well, what am I supposed to think?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes darted. Then, something seemed to dawn on her.
“Oh, miss,” she breathed. “Miss, I haven’t been telling tales about you, I swear it! Honest, I’d never!” She stepped toward me, arms outstretched, imploring. “Plea
se, miss, you must believe me. I’d never do anything to harm you, not after what you’ve done for me. You could’ve dismissed me months ago, and plenty would ’ave, but you kept me on, and I’m grateful, miss, and I’d never repay that by …” She shook her head, looking briefly disgusted. “You remember how Lady Millicent was toward me. She’d ’ave thrown me out in the middle o’ the night, wi’out a penny to bless myself with. You really think I’d help her? By harming you?”
“I don’t know, Reilly,” I answered, crossing my arms and leaning against the dressing table because I was starting to feel weak and wrung out. “I know your family’s in trouble and that desperate people sometimes do desperate things.”
“We aren’t that desperate, miss,” she replied stoutly. “I’d never. Please, miss, you must believe me.”
I studied her, still suspicious. But her face—there was something in her expression. It was a nakedness, a pleading, and a desperation I recognized from the people I’d seen begging on the streets in London and Leicester. I couldn’t say I was entirely ready to trust her, but neither was I prepared to fire her.
“Come help me undress, please,” I said, turning so she could undo my dress. “It’s been a day; I need to lie down.”
Chapter Twelve
“Do cheer up, my dear,” Toby importuned as our taxi drew up outside Aunt El’s. “It wasn’t all bad. Alice was charming, wasn’t she? And your new frock went over a treat.”
I merely sighed as we disembarked. My head felt heavy, and I seemed to have caught a chill from standing in the rain.
“No one listens to Freddie anyhow,” Toby continued. “That whole matter will blow over in no time. Everyone will be too busy talking about the favorites at Ascot, and what on earth is to be done about this little rebellion in India, to bother with you.”
I was less certain than he. The previous day he’d returned from the wedding and burst into my room demanding, “Lord, Astra, what on earth did you do?”
As I sat up in bed (I had, in fact, been fast asleep) and tried to reengage my brain, he’d paced the room, giving me a dire rundown of the rumors that were already swirling.
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