The Richmond Thief

by Lisa Boero

  Althea selected a slice of toast from her plate and spread it with marmalade. “I’m sure that you were not in a position to mend relations when the rest of the family was so violently opposed to our marriage.” She looked steadily at him. “Or perhaps I should say, to me.”

  “No, cousin, surely—”

  Althea laughed. “Don’t bother to dissemble. Fortunately for me, my husband was brave enough to stand against the tide of outrage. Anyway, we lived so secluded that it didn’t matter all that much.”

  “But, Cousin Althea—”

  “Now things are different, are they not?”

  He seemed relieved. “Yes, thank goodness.”

  Althea chewed slowly on a morsel of ham while Charles struggled to find another topic of conversation. Despite his smooth speech at their first meeting, closer acquaintance had revealed a reserved man sometimes awkward with conversation. Or at least, conversation with her. There was also an odd distance with Charles. However open and frank his manner, Althea could never quite be sure she knew exactly what he was thinking. Once or twice, she caught a strange expression in his eyes.

  Althea swallowed. “Lady Levanwood told me your brother saw some action several months ago. He is in a Hussar regiment, I understand?”

  “Yes. Augustus wrote a number of excited letters from a village in Spain. Skirmishes really, but very much to his taste. I couldn’t have designed a better vocation for him than the army. He always was a crack shot and didn’t care for books.”

  “And you have no taste for soldiering?”

  He shook his head. “No indeed. It isn’t in my nature to tramp about shooting at people. I much prefer my library.”

  “What sort of books do you read? I will own an eclectic taste myself.”

  “Histories and the biographies of great men, philosophers. My Latin and Greek are no more than tolerable, but I have a fondness for the classics. Homer in particular.”

  “So do I, although my father would be ashamed to see how poor my Greek has gotten of late. I find I do not have the time I once had to dedicate to study.”

  Charles almost dropped his fork. “You study Greek?”

  “Studied. And Latin. My French is fair, but I got on quite well with Spanish and Italian. The German could be improved. It is such a guttural language, don’t you think? It sticks in the back of the throat.” Charles continued to stare, so Althea said, “As the only child of a learned physician, I was bound to absorb something from my father’s daily conversation.”

  “It sounds as if you did more than absorb.”

  “Sorry to have shocked you, but as poor Papa had no son, what could he do but teach me? Docendo discimus.”

  “You wrong me, cousin. I am not shocked, but pleasantly surprised.” Yet there was something like wariness in the tone of his voice. “I had considered medicine at one point myself, you know. And I suppose I never thought to meet with such an accomplished female.”

  “Not accomplished, just extremely bookish. But don’t tell Jane I said so, for she has told me that nothing will sink my credit faster than a reputation as a bookish woman.”

  Charles smiled conspiratorially. “So glad you are part of the family, dear cousin.”

  After a day of enforced confinement, the time finally drew near to stand at the top of the grand staircase to await the first guests. Althea arrived late after the prolonged ministrations of Lady Levanwood’s abigail, Mrs. Buxton, who insisted that Althea adopt a fetching new hairstyle. Her hair was pulled to the top of her head and then ruthlessly curled with irons till it fell in delicate curls around her face. Mrs. Buxton had then affixed a silver net over the top knot and wound silver braid around it in the Grecian fashion. The confection was secured with a diamond pin. The pin formed part of the bridal gift from Sir Arthur that included the bracelet clasped gently around Althea’s wrist and a fine pair of diamond earrings presently dangling from Althea’s earlobes. As she was unused to wearing even this much, Althea declined the loan of further adornment from Lady Levanwood.

  “Oh, my dear, how becoming!” Bella exclaimed upon seeing her. The marchioness was dressed in a satin gown of deep purple and a high turban of the same fabric that she had somehow managed to order from Madame Longet instead of the yellow gown from last season. Feathers sprouted from the turban like reeds in a marsh, and the famous Levanwood diamonds glittered at her throat. “I just knew Buxton would come up with the perfect solution for that straight brown hair of yours. Bewitching, don’t you think, John?”

  John seemed at a loss for words for a moment. Then he said, “Upon my word, it is. Devilish fine work, that Buxton. Why, I wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with you anywhere.”

  “Thank you, Cousin John, that is most obliging.” Althea flushed in anger, but he seemed not to notice.

  “Really, Althea, you look quite lovely,” Charles jumped in apologetically.

  The Marquess of Levanwood strolled into position beside his better half, who was more than a little annoyed at his tardiness. Althea, standing next to the marchioness, was privileged to witness some of the marital felicity of the Levanwoods.

  “My Lord, so late! You drive me to distraction! Remember that this is a ball held at your house. Please do me the favor of attending to our guests properly instead of slipping off to play cards with your foolish friends,” Bella hissed in his ear.

  “I would not disparage my friends, madam, unless you examine the lot of flighty, empty-headed women you have designated as such. Your friends are what drive my friends away from these affairs.”

  Tears that may have been genuine sparkled on her lashes. “If you had any proper feeling, you would not tease me so. I warn you that I shall not be made a laughingstock yet again.”

  “As ever, that is entirely in your hands, my dear.”

  Bella opened her mouth to reply, but the sonorous voice of the butler announcing the first guest stopped her.

  After an hour, Charles, John, Althea, and Jane were released to open the dancing and then attend to the guests in their own fashion. The rooms were quite crowded for an event so early in the season. After the obligatory country dance with Althea, John immediately disappeared, absorbed by the group of elegant young men who hovered just outside the card room. Charles guided Althea and Jane to a long bench already filled with the ladies who, by age or inclination, did not choose to dance. Jane, who had partnered with Charles, sank gratefully down, but Althea remained standing, unwilling for the moment to give in to fatigue.

  “Cousins, may I get you some refreshment after the exercise of the dance? Lemonade?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Althea and Jane said in unison, and then they laughed.

  Charles bowed. “Your wish is my command.” He walked off in the direction of refreshment.

  “Well, dear, tell me what you think of your first ball. Is it not delightful?” Jane said.

  “I am duly impressed with both the room and the company. Really, some of the gowns here tonight are beyond description.”

  Jane caught Althea’s inflection. “Indeed. The folly of fashion was always a great consolation to me in my time at the wall. However, I beg of you, do not think to engage in folly of any other kind. Bella warned me that the patronesses of Almack’s are sure to make an appearance, as is Lady Pickney, who I suppose must be invited, damn the consequences. If you have any hope of catching the eye of an eligible party, you would be wise to mind your conduct.”

  “Poor Jane. I am such a trial for you, aren’t I? But you need not worry about my manners, as I foresee many such evenings, attached like a pair of barnacles to the benches.”

  “Do you? We shall see. I’ve never seen you look better, by the way. That severe style suits you.”

  “And the deep rose of your gown brings color to your cheeks. It is quite becoming. Are you sure we hadn’t better hunt for a husband for you, dear Jane?” Catching sight of a portly gentleman who seemed intent on reaching their section of the room, she added, “And here is one of your beaus, unable to resis
t such a vision in pink.”

  Jane rapped Althea’s hand playfully with her closed fan. “Mind your manners, I said. Ah now, here comes Charles. When you have had your dance with him, I expect you shall not lack for partners.”

  To Althea’s surprise, Jane was correct. After going down a set with Charles, she was handed off to a series of mostly agreeable men. Midway through the evening, Baron Casterleigh, a young man just back from university, led her through the steps of the cotillion. As Althea had previously only read about it in books, it took all of her concentration to watch the other couples and follow the baron’s careful instructions. At the end of the dance, Casterleigh clasped her hand. “Well done, Lady Trent! No one would ever know that you had never danced it before.”

  “Thank you, Lord Casterleigh. It was your instruction that did it. I’m afraid I will never be able to replicate the feat.”

  “Then you must reserve all your cotillions for me.”

  “You are too kind.” The musicians began tuning up for the next song.

  Casterleigh seemed to recognize the tune and said, “I had not thought Lady Levanwood was quite so on top of the latest music.”

  “Dear me,” Althea replied, unsure of what the next dance might be, “perhaps that is my cue to retire before my ignorance of the London fashions is more generally known.”

  “No indeed.” Casterleigh touched the arm of a passing man. “I say, cousin, may I present you to Lady Trent. She’s been hidden away in Somerset so long, she hasn’t learnt ‘La Boulangère.’ But I can vouch that she is a capital dancer and would acquit herself well with an experienced partner such as yourself.” He turned back to Althea. “Lady Trent, may I present my cousin, Duke of Norwich.”

  Norwich was a tall, fair man with a rigid bearing. He wasn’t exactly handsome—his features being too harsh for such a compliment—but there was something about his face and figure that made Althea stand a little straighter in her satin slippers.

  It was clear from the frown in Norwich’s eyes that Casterleigh’s claim upon his time was not welcome. However, good breeding got the upper hand, and he said, “Delighted to make your acquaintance, madam. Shall we?” He extended his arm.

  Althea looked quickly around her, studying the couples who were just now taking the floor in circles of four couples each.

  Norwich caught her hesitation and his face softened. “No need to worry, Lady Trent. I will tell you what you need to know.”

  His hand captured hers as they walked to their set. Althea felt an odd tingle at the base of her spine. Norwich smelled like clean linen and soap and some indefinable male cologne. She thought of several articles she had read on the use of smell in the mating rituals of animals. Then the music started in earnest, and she decided that studying the movements of the other dancers was more pressing than musing on animal behavior.

  After guiding her along with precise directions for half the song, Lord Norwich said, “You are from Somerset, I understand.”

  “Yes. Lived there all my life.”

  “And you are staying here for the season?”

  “Lord and Lady Levanwood were kind enough to invite me. My late husband was cousin to Lady Levanwood.”

  “I see. And how do you like London?”

  “Quite well, although I feel I am more suited to country life. My husband’s sister was mad to rejoin society, though, so Lady Levanwood’s invitation was very much appreciated.”

  “I take it then that you enjoy all of the country pursuits—riding, walking, and the like.”

  “Walking, yes indeed. Jane says I’m a great walker, but riding is another matter. I am not a very avid horsewoman. A gentle pony is more than sufficient for my needs.”

  “And sufficient for a turn in Hyde Park. Therefore I think you will begin to prefer London.”

  “If you recommend it, it must be so.” She looked up and caught a hint of a smile on his stern mouth. “But tell me, what do you pursue in London?”

  He seemed surprised at the question, but replied, “The usual, I suppose. I ride in the park. I attend functions such as this. I manage the estates, and when I have a moment between letters and solicitors and whatnot, I read whatever book is to hand.”

  Althea drew him out about his literary tastes, and like all true book enthusiasts, his manner improved when it became clear that Althea was equally well-read and shared his opinions. When the dance ended, he said, “Lady Trent, you have no need to fear that your years in seclusion have impaired your ability to move in a more refined society.”

  Before Althea could thank him for such a compliment, however, she was accosted by Cousin John, come to claim another dance. Norwich bowed gracefully and withdrew.

  “Got you out of that one, didn’t I? Norwich is one of the stiffest, most deadly bores in all of England. I swear, I don’t know what you found to talk with him about,” John said.

  Althea took John’s arm. “Why, himself, of course.”

  Chapter Five

  It was well past three in the morning when Althea finally found herself tucked in bed. Everything ached, but her eyes refused to close. Eventually, she got up, made her way through the dark, and rapped lightly on Jane’s door.

  “Come in,” was the muffled reply.

  Jane sat bundled in a shawl by the fire slowly dying in the hearth. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

  “You either, I see.”

  “When have I ever been able to sleep?”

  “You are like the creatures of the night, alive only by the light of the moon.”

  Jane smiled. “Come keep me company by the fire.” Althea sat in the opposite chair. “Well child, you’ve done a good night’s work. All the mamas of hopeful sons will be forcing their boys to send you flowers tomorrow, not the least of which will be Cousin Bella.”

  “Surely you jest.”

  “I am perfectly serious. Aside from the ability to laugh at the strange concoctions that pass for dresses these days—did you see that thing Lady Lamb had on, by the way, like a common—well, I was never so shocked—the wall has one other advantage.”

  Althea laughed. “And what is that?”

  “Gossip. You probably did not realize it, but the fact that the Duke of Norwich favored you has done more to enhance your reputation than anything Cousin Bella could dream up.”

  “I danced with quite a large number of titled men.”

  “Indeed you did, but Norwich is known to be very rich and very particular in his choice of partners. He could have anyone, but he picked you. And for ‘La Boulangère,’ no less.”

  “Poor man, he couldn’t get out of it. Lord Casterleigh practically forced him to dance with me. I was so tempted to laugh when I saw his face. He was not well pleased.”

  “Perhaps, but you must have grown on him. He seemed quite animated when he spoke with you.”

  “What reader is not passionate about books?”

  “Oh, good heavens! Don’t tell me you talked of books?” Jane started to laugh.

  “It seemed a safe subject. Besides, my opinion was not required for much. He had very definite ideas.”

  “I’m sure he did, about you. He’ll think you the worst sort of bluestocking if you keep on with your endless discussion of books and science.”

  “And what if he does? I did not find his company so delightful that I would wish to keep it,” Althea replied.

  “Be that as it may, a reputation for eccentricity will not win you any favors.”

  “Dear Jane, why do I think we have strayed into a conversation about your past?”

  “Enough of your impudence.”

  “Then let us return to the gossip at hand. What else did you hear?”

  “Nothing you or I wouldn’t already know. The particulars of my brother’s estate and your generous settlement were bandied about quite freely. Within the space of an hour, your circumstances were understood by all.”

  “The London crowd does move quickly. I assume that my previously humble origins were also
known?”

  “Not within my hearing. I think the quiet nature of your marriage may have prevented that news from traveling this far.”

  “Certainly a relief,” Althea said.

  Jane pointedly ignored her. “So given your current position as the widow of a baronet and the fact that Norwich has singled you out, I would say that you may aim as high as you please.”

  “London society is nothing more than a pack of dogs, I perceive. Where the lead dog goes, the others are sure to follow.”

  “As much as I deplore your analogy, you have the right of it. From what I have learned tonight, Norwich is the lead dog.”

  “And so I can have my pick of the seconds. Even Lord Bingham?”

  “Yes. Although I can’t imagine how you’d stomach a husband who slips out the back garden in the middle of the night.”

  “He does?”

  “Several nights a week. At least it appears to be him. Probably off to meet some rake-hell friend. Other nights he just stands there, waiting for something or perhaps someone.” She pointed to her window. “Stand over there and you can see quite a bit when the moon is high and the lamps are lit.”

  Althea moved to Jane’s window and looked down. “Perhaps he seeks inspiration in the night sky for that sonnet of his. He’s absent tonight, undoubtedly tired like the rest of us.” Althea returned to her place by the fire.

  “Not the marquess. In your whirl of activity, you may not have noticed how he stayed in the card room till midnight and then abruptly left the party in the company of several friends, including that Lord Belfore—the one with the stolen brooch. Bella noticed it, I can tell you. She looked ready to spit fire.”

  “So would I in her shoes. Although I have a feeling that Cousin Bella might overlook the fault if the marquess were lucky in his play.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  “I overheard the dressmaker. Bella is deeply in debt to her, and a woman pays her dressmaker above anyone else. Then I heard a disparaging comment from Bella to the marquess. It has been my experience that a wife does not object to a husband’s friends if she feels that they provide a beneficial influence. Add a love of cards to profligate friends and you have substantial gambling debts.”