A Wicked Gentleman

by Jane Feather

  “No.” It was Aurelia who answered him, her brow creased in a worried frown. “We’ve sent two messages to the marquess of Coltrain’s house, but apparently Nigel’s friend, Garston, has gone out of town and no one seems to know whether Nigel accompanied him or not.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Harry said. There was no point alarming them at this stage with his own less than complete knowledge of the man’s present situation. He accepted a glass of sherry from Cornelia, his fingers casually brushing against hers as he did so. He felt the tingling surge go through her matching the current that electrified him, and for a second their eyes met in a caress as palpable as if it had been a touch.

  Cornelia turned away, stifling a smile. “Yes, that’s what we think. There seems no other explanation,” she said, picking up the thread smoothly. “He’s probably at some friend’s hunting box.”

  Harry offered a noncommittal nod and sipped his sherry. Children’s voices rose high and imperative from the hall. The yapping of the dogs joined in the cacophony and a high-pitched shriek that was unmistakably Franny’s shattered the air like glass.

  “It’s those wretched dogs,” Aurelia said, “They keep jumping up at her. Excuse me.” She hurried to the parlor door.

  “I’ll get the dogs,” Livia said, following her out.

  Cornelia stood by the sideboard, regarding Harry in a reflective silence. “Did you come on any particular business?” she asked finally.

  He shook his head. “Do I have to?”

  “No.” She twisted the wedding ring on her finger. “But I find it unsettling to be in your company when we’re not alone.”

  “As do I in yours,” he said quietly. “But I should tell you that I think your friends have suspicions. Livia obliquely tried to warn me off.”

  Cornelia frowned. “They’ve said nothing to me. How did she warn you?”

  He shrugged. “As I said it was rather oblique. She merely said that your well-being is close to their hearts, and I would jeopardize it at my peril.”

  “That doesn’t sound at all oblique,” Cornelia said. “It sounds rather blunt to me.”

  “Well, they’re your friends. You know them better than I do.”

  “Yes.” She opened her hands in a rather helpless gesture. “This is torment, Harry.”

  “I know.” He stood up, took a step towards her, then stopped at the sound of a familiar voice in the hall. “Ah,” he said. “You have more visitors it would seem.”

  Cornelia cocked her head, listening. “I hope it’s not Letitia Oglethorpe, the woman’s driving us insane.”

  “I don’t hear her voice,” Harry said. “And she does have a most distinctive tone.”

  Cornelia grimaced in agreement, but her expression cleared as she identified the voices. “Several gentlemen at the ball at Almack’s said they would call upon us.” She added with a slightly sardonic smile, “How fortunate we chose to wear our finest gowns this morning.”

  Livia came back into the parlor. “Nell, we have visitors. Morecombe’s shown them into the salon. Will you come?” Her eyes darted towards Harry, then back to Cornelia, a question in their depths that had nothing to do with visitors.

  Cornelia said serenely, “Yes, of course. What have you done with the dogs?”

  “Lester has taken them to the kitchen, and Daisy has taken the children upstairs. Lord Bonham, do you care to join us in the salon?”

  He bowed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Livia led the way to the salon where three gentlemen stood before the fireplace. “Lord Strachan, how good of you to call,” she said. “And Sir Nicholas.” She offered a cordial handshake to both gentlemen and looked inquiringly at the third.

  “Ah, Lady Livia, may I present Lord Forster,” Harry said with a smile. “I should warn you he’s a sad rattle, but good enough company.”

  “Calumny, Harry,” David declared. He bowed to Livia. “Delighted, ma’am. Thank you for receiving me. I was desolated that we were not introduced last evening at Almack’s. Fortunately, Nick here offered to remedy the omission. But if I’d known Harry would be so far ahead of us, I would have attached myself to him.”

  Livia laughed. “I’m delighted to meet you, sir. And you are all of course acquainted with Lady Dagenham. And Lady Farnham.”

  Harry retreated to a chair at the rear of the salon and watched with some amusement as Livia deftly and without the slightest discourtesy turned aside the obvious attentions of Lord Strachan. He realized that he needn’t have worried. Livia was no more likely than her friends to fall for flattery and extravagant compliments.

  The door knocker again heralded visitors, two ladies, fearsome leaders of the ton, whose critical eyes took in every detail of the apartment and its occupants while they stored up their opinions for public dissemination later.

  Cornelia and Aurelia handled these new visitors with the same aplomb they had shown towards the duchess and Lady Sefton. They were not about to be intimidated, and Harry found hugely enjoyable the way they deflected the frequently impertinent questions that such arbiters of fashion felt they were entitled to ask.

  “I understand you have never been affianced, Lady Livia,” the duchess of Broadhurst declared in a tone that implied this was some serious flaw on Livia’s part.

  “I have not as yet received an offer that would tempt me, ma’am.” Livia’s smile was tranquil.

  Her Grace shook her head. “A gal your age…once it’s said you’re on the shelf, you’ll be lucky to get any offers at all.”

  “Lady Livia is far too delicate to go into details of her many conquests, ma’am,” Cornelia said. “Such an indelicate conversation is hardly suitable for mixed company.” She glanced pointedly to the men clustered in front of the fire.

  The duchess had the grace to look discomposed. She muttered, “Tush,” and appeared momentarily silenced.

  “Have you seen the new species of shrub in the Botanical Gardens, Lady Dagenham?” Nick asked, stepping valiantly into the breach.

  Cornelia, somewhat bemused, looked at him in surprise. “Species of shrub, Sir Nicholas?”

  “Is it a completely new species, Sir Nicholas, or a variation on an established one?” asked Aurelia with an air of fascination.

  Nick looked desperately at David. “Uh…uh, I’m not sure. Forster, you’re the expert on plants.”

  “Am I?” David sucked in his cheeks. “No…no, m’dear fellow. It’s Harry you’re thinking of.” Having tossed the hot potato, he visibly relaxed.

  “Lord Bonham?” inquired Cornelia sweetly. “Are you acquainted with the shrub that Sir Nicholas is referring to?”

  “As it happens, I have not the slightest interest in shrubs of any kind,” Harry said emphatically. “And now, ma’am, I must take my leave.”

  “You may escort me to my carriage, Bonham,” the duchess announced, rising to her feet, gathering her numerous shawls around her. “Belinda, I’ll take you up as far as Grosvenor Square.” She beckoned imperiously to her companion, Lady Nielson.

  The two ladies took their somewhat haughty leave, Harry escorting them to the duchess’s barouche, which stood at the door.

  The gentlemen soon followed, and Cornelia said, “Unless that Broadhurst woman decides to bad-mouth us, I think, my friends, that we’re now established.”

  “She is odious,” Livia said. “How incredibly rude.”

  “Oh, the greater the sense of consequence the greater the lack of finesse,” Cornelia said. “It’s a close-run thing, but I think I prefer Harry’s great-aunt’s species of rudeness. It had some wit to it, rather than simple malice.”

  “Mmm.” Livia hesitated, frowning, then asked abruptly, “Is something going on between you and Lord Bonham, Nell?”

  Aurelia looked at her in surprise. She hadn’t thought Livia was aware of the strange currents that swirled around the viscount and Nell. She turned her gaze to Cornelia, who, although composed, had a slightly rueful air.

  “Is there, Nell?”

  Cornelia coul
d see no point in denying it, and in truth there would be huge relief in talking about it. “Is it so obvious?”

  “Not to a stranger,” Aurelia said. “But to us…yes.”

  Cornelia nodded. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s some kind of madness. A lunacy that seems to have gripped us both. I’m sorry,” she said helplessly, looking between them, trying to read their faces.

  “Are you having an affair?” Aurelia asked directly.

  “I suppose that’s what you would call it,” Cornelia agreed. “But as long as the earl doesn’t find out…and there’s no reason why he should find out. Is there?” The question was a desperate request for reassurance.

  “He won’t find out from us,” Livia said. “Of course he won’t.”

  Aurelia looked at her friend closely. “Do you love him, Nell?”

  Cornelia pressed her fingertips to her mouth. She thought she did love Harry Bonham, but she wasn’t prepared to admit that, not even to herself. Not while it was one-sided.

  “I don’t know that exactly,” she said. “But it’s like some kind of possession…obsession, if you like.” And that was true enough, with or without the complications of love. And she knew that Harry felt that at least as powerfully as she did.

  Aurelia and Livia said nothing for a minute or two, absorbing the implications of this. “Are you happy about it?” Aurelia asked finally.

  “That’s a strange word for it,” Cornelia responded honestly. “I’m frightened by it…by the possible consequences.”

  “What consequences?” Aurelia’s question was sharp.

  “Not that, Ellie. To be blunt, Harry takes a simple precaution.”

  Aurelia nodded her comprehension. “So what are you frightened of?”

  “Of being swallowed up,” Cornelia replied simply. “Devoured by obsession. Losing myself.”

  Aurelia whistled. “That’s a powerful fear, Nell.”

  “Why don’t you just marry him?” Livia asked. “That would solve everything. The children like him too.”

  “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple, Liv.” Cornelia eyes were shadowed. “I don’t think marriage figures anywhere in Harry Bonham’s future.”

  “Why not?”

  She gave a short and humorless laugh. “If I knew that, Ellie, I’d be a lot easier in my mind. The man’s a mystery, an enigma, and so far I haven’t come close to finding the key. But it is as it is. I tried to break it off almost before it began, and I couldn’t do it.”

  “But you have such willpower,” Aurelia said, frowning at her.

  “Not in this,” Cornelia said with a sigh. She paced restlessly between the long windows overlooking the street. “I can hardly bear to endure the time we’re apart. And it’s torment to have to behave in company as if we’re bare acquaintances.”

  Livia was fascinated. It was so unlike the ordinarily serene and in-charge Cornelia. “Where do you meet him, Nell?”

  Cornelia grinned mischievously, her earlier gravity abruptly dispelled. “I don’t meet him exactly, he plays Casanova through my window.”

  After an instant’s astonishment her friends burst into laughter. “Oh, that’s rich, Nell,” Aurelia gasped. “He climbs through your window in the dead of night?”

  “In a word, yes,” Cornelia said somewhat smugly. “Which is one reason why I don’t think anyone will ever be any the wiser. We can’t be seen in public behaving as more than ordinary acquaintances, not without drawing attention to ourselves. You know what the gossips are like. If it occurs to someone that Harry’s at my side rather frequently, there’ll be talk, and it’ll get back to the earl. But as long as he’s in the company of all three of us, the gossips won’t see anything special…and no one’s watching my window in the dead of night,” she added with another mischievous grin.

  Aurelia stared at her in dawning comprehension. “Was he there, in your bed, that night the cat squalled and Morecombe came up with his blunderbuss and the dogs got loose and…he was, wasn’t he?”

  “Hiding behind the bed curtains,” Cornelia said, laughing. “He’d only just crept in, intending to take me by surprise, but he trod on Puss’s tail…you know the rest.”

  “I didn’t hear about that,” Liv said with a touch of indignation. “Why didn’t I know about it?”

  “Because the racket didn’t waken you,” Aurelia pointed out. “I thought there was something odd about it all, but I’d never have guessed, not in a million years.”

  She chuckled suddenly. “Aunt Sophia’s house does seem rather an appropriate venue for illicit acts of passion, don’t you think? I’m sure it’s not the first liaison that’s taken place here.”

  “I own I’m very curious about the lady,” Cornelia said, more than ready to turn the conversation into a different avenue. “I wonder if Morecombe could be pumped discreetly.”

  Livia, however, was not ready to abandon the original topic. “It may be very uncomfortable to be possessed, devoured, or whatever you want to call it,” she said thoughtfully, “but I envy you, Nell.”

  “Me too,” Aurelia said. “You do have an extraordinary glow these days, Nell. Passion clearly has something to be said for it.”

  Cornelia smiled, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, yes,” she agreed softly. “Oh, yes, it most certainly does.”

  Two days later she was not so sure. Despite the fact that the door knocker was never still, announcing a steady stream of visitors, Harry was not among them. He seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

  She made no comment, however, appearing almost not to notice his absence; but Livia and Aurelia were not fooled.

  “Where do you think he is?” Livia asked Aurelia on the third afternoon when Cornelia was out with the children. “They haven’t had an argument, have they?”

  Aurelia shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe he only comes at night.”

  “No,” Livia said firmly. “You can tell that Nell’s puzzled…upset. She’s not really herself.”

  “Yes, I know,” Aurelia conceded. “First Nigel disappears, now the viscount. It’s all a mystery to me…oh, it sounds like she’s back. She’s talking to Morecombe in the hall.”

  “More invitations,” Cornelia said as she entered the salon flourishing yet another gilt-edged card. “I don’t see how one could possibly accept them all.” She added the card to the pile already on the mantel.

  “Most people attend each one for five minutes,” Aurelia said, busily arranging winter camellias in a vase. “But that seems so rude…aren’t these beautiful?”

  Cornelia glanced absently at them. “Mmm. Who are they from?”

  Aurelia squinted at the card. “A Lord Bailey.” She shook her head. “The name means nothing. Does it to you?”

  “I think so,” Livia said vaguely. “I think I danced with someone of that name at the Bellinghams’ soirée the other day.”

  “So casual, Liv,” Cornelia accused. “I suppose with so many suitors you can afford to be insouciant.” Her smile was strained, and the intended jocularity of the accusation didn’t come out right.

  She saw the quick glance that passed between her friends and braced herself for the question that she could not answer, but the salon door opened and brought a welcome diversion.

  “Them two gentlemen are here, m’lady,” Morecombe announced in his dour tones sticking his head through the merest crack in the door.

  “What two gentlemen?” Livia murmured.

  Cornelia shrugged and shook her head. It wasn’t Harry. Morecombe always referred to him as that viscount.

  “Well, show them in, please, Morecombe,” Aurelia prompted.

  “They’re right here.” Morecombe’s head disappeared and another hand pushed the door wide.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever come across such an eccentric butler, ma’am,” Nick Petersham declared, entering the salon, David Forster on his heels.

  “I’m surprised you keep him on,” David observed. “Isn’t he ready to be put out to pasture?”

>   “He may well be, but my aunt left clear instructions in her will that he and his wife and sister-in-law were to be kept on until they decided to go of their own accord,” Livia explained.

  “Good Lord, you mean there are two more of them?” Nick exclaimed.

  “Yes, and they’re every bit as eccentric, but they’re also wonderful cooks,” Aurelia said, laughing. “Do sit down, gentlemen. What may we offer you?”

  “Sherry or Madeira?” Cornelia moved to the sideboard. “Or claret? I discovered a rather fine ’92 in the cellar on my last trip down there.”

  “Claret then, thank you, Lady Dagenham.” Nick came over to take the filled glasses from her.

  She glanced sideways at him as she poured the wine. “We haven’t seen Lord Bonham in a while,” she observed. “I trust he’s not ill?” It had become clear to all of them after the first introduction to Nick and David that the three men were fast friends.

  “Oh, no, not a bit of it, ma’am,” Nick said cheerfully. “Harry has the constitution of an ox. You seen him around, Forster?”

  “Come to think of it, no,” David said, taking the glass Nick offered him with a nod of thanks. “He’ll be attending to some family business, you mark my words.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Aurelia said with ready sympathy. “Those poor motherless nephews and nieces. The viscount told us all about them.”

  Both visitors looked bemused. “Harry has a big family, ma’am, but I don’t know about motherless nephews and nieces…d’you, Nick?”

  “Oh, yes, he explained,” Livia said eagerly. “Such a sad story. It’s why he wanted to buy this house. He said it reminded him of the house where he’d grown up in London…the square garden, cricket, hide-and-seek…” Her voice trailed away as she saw the confusion on the men’s faces.

  “Buy this house, Lady Livia?” Nick asked. “He has a perfectly good house of his own.”

  “No, it wasn’t for him, it was so that he could establish the children close to him to watch over them.”

  “Ah,” Nick said somewhat inadequately. To his certain knowledge all Harry’s sisters were flourishing, and while he did indeed have a quiver full of nephews and nieces, none was motherless…or fatherless for that matter. But if Harry had spun this particular tale, he must have his reasons for it, and it would hardly be a gesture of friendship to expose it for a tissue of lies.