by D. L. Carter
“Lower your voice!”
Millicent smiled and passed a coin to the waiting boys.
“Do not worry, Your Grace, I shall keep your secret. No one will suspect that you have reached such a great age without knowing a woman.”
“Insults and abuse?” Shoffer threw himself into the saddle. “This is my reward for aiding your sister?”
“Perhaps you should appeal to her in person if you wish kind words and flattery.”
* * *
Mildred’s reaction to Millicent’s and Shoffer’s labors was not exactly what they had expected. Millicent greeted her sister with a report of their afternoon’s activities upon spying that worthy as she descended the main staircase. Mildred first went pale, then red; then the shouting began.
“How dare you?” shrieked Mildred. “What were you thinking? No. You could not have been thinking and done such a thing. Mr. North, you, I believe, are capable of any foolishness, but you, Your Grace, I thought you possessed better sense, better understanding of the ton!”
With that she burst into tears and ran back up the stairs, leaving Millicent and Shoffer open-mouthed and gasping in her wake. Millicent recovered first.
“You told me this was a plan! I assumed that you had received instructions!”
“I…I…” Shoffer stuttered into silence. Now that he came to think of it, he was uncertain how it had come about. “We were talking, Beth and me, about how your sister’s party was looking to be a disaster and…”
“And you, in your magnanimity, decided to interfere in an event that my sister has been planning for weeks. Her debut as a hostess to the ton?” Millicent drew herself up to her full height and glared, hot and fierce, at the duke. “You arrogant son of a bitch. How dare you? Do you not understand that there are some matters where one would rather fail by one’s own efforts than be rescued by a superior, smug, know-it-all!”
Merit, who had emerged to take personal charge of the duke’s hat and gloves, turned ice pale and his knees gave way. The nearest footman dropped Millicent’s hat to seize Merit by the arm. The two staggered and fell, knocking the hall table with its burden of bric-a-brac to the floor. Even as the echoes faded, Millicent turned and followed her sister up the staircase. Shoffer stood abandoned for a few moments before shaking himself, collected his own gloves from the floor and departed. He was so disturbed that he forgot the horse waiting for him and walked the darkening streets to his home.
* * *
Ignoring his own butler and footman, Shoffer kept the company of his hat and gloves, strode through to his study, and poured out a generous amount of brandy. It was not until he had drained half the glass that he noticed that he still wore his gloves.
Cursing women in general, and all the women of the Boarder household in particular, he tore off his gloves and threw them on the nearest flat surface with enough force that they bounced and landed on the floor.
“Your Grace?” ventured his butler.
“Where is my sister, Forsythe?”
“Upstairs, resting in preparation for this evening, Your Grace.”
“Well, wake her and inform her there is no need. I have decided we shall not be going out tonight.”
To do him credit, Forsythe hesitated before speaking. “Not going out?”
Shoffer did not reply. Forsythe hurried from the room to carry the message himself, instead of delegating it to younger legs.
Beth appeared within five minutes having run through the house in her dressing gown and slippers rather than take the time to dress for the interview.
“Timothy? Whatever is the matter?” she demanded.
“Lady Elizabeth,” replied Shoffer in the coldest tones he had ever used with his sister. “Pray tell me, when did you discuss the need for changes to be made to Mildred Boarder’s tea party with Miss Mildred herself? When did she approve your intervention?”
Beth stared at him open-mouthed. “I … that is, I saw that Mildred was upset and I wanted to help…”
“Did she ask? Did she specify that she desired you to act?”
“Well, no, but I had to. I could not bear it if she was humiliated by the ton.”
“So you decided to humiliate her yourself?”
“No. No.” Beth went pale and pressed her fingers to her lips. “I did not mean to.”
“This was poorly done by us, sister. I include myself in this, as I did not verify that my interference was requested. I undertook to carry out our plan, involving Mr. North in its completion, without considering the opinion of Mildred Boarder, the hostess. Were we to do thus for any other lady of the ton we would be justly shunned.”
“Oh, no!” cried Beth.
“She is justly displeased with us, and has included her cousin in her ire, who is innocent in this.”
“Oh. Oh, I am so sorry. I shall speak to Mildred tonight at the ball and apologize. She will understand.”
Shoffer shook his head. “Not tonight. You go nowhere tonight.”
“But we are expected.”
“Consider it a justly deserved punishment, Beth. We shall take no entertainments tonight. Tomorrow, we shall present ourselves as penitents to the family Boarder and make a formal apology. I suggest you spend this evening drafting a letter since I judge that a verbal apology is insufficient.”
Beth opened her mouth to protest, then colored and nodded. “Of course, Timothy, you are correct. Must I stay in my room?”
“Is that where your writing desk is located?”
“No. The upper drawing room. I can have it moved.”
The question puzzled Timothy for a moment, then he saw how pale Beth had gone, how thin her lips, and he remembered when he had seen her thus before. He smiled and crossed the chamber to give her a hug.
“Dear Beth, do not be afraid. I am not going to lock you in a closet. I am cross with both of us and do not think there is an armoire in the house large enough to hold us both.”
Beth giggled at the image and relaxed.
“I shall be ready whenever you decree tomorrow, Timothy. Thank you.”
Shoffer gave her another squeeze, then let her go. As he watched her, he could feel his anger fade, to be replaced by the glow of pride. It was not until he was alone, again, that he remembered Millicent’s fury and sighed. How complicated his life had become, but all things considered, he would not give up any part of it. He settled in the large wing-backed chair beside the fireplace and stared at its empty twin, imagining Mr. North grinning at him and expounding on some piece of nonsense.
He missed him. Missed her.
He growled and sank further into the chair’s embrace. Mr. North, Millicent, Helene – the woman possessed more faces, more lives, more lies than any other person of his acquaintance. Knowing what he did about her facility for falsehoods, he should spurn her, cut the acquaintance. Certainly he should not permit his sister to continue associating with the man – who was a woman – about whom everything he knew was a lie.
He covered his face with both hands and tried to rub some sense into his tired brain. The truth was he liked and trusted Millicent … North … Helene.
Whoever she was.
Despite the lies, the absolute disgraceful impropriety of her deception, she was the most honorable person of his acquaintance. When she was near, he depended upon her good sense, her insights into human nature, her refusal to kowtow to the pretenses of the ton. For the first time, he was enjoying the season, seeing the posturing and pretensions through her eyes. He missed her conversation, her good humor.
His body heated and his groin grew heavy. Truth to tell, he missed her smooth curves and willing body.
Male friend and feminine lover, she was everything he needed.
If only he could find a way to have both of her identities in his life, he would be a very happy man.
Chapter Eighteen
Shoffer and Beth presented themselves at Maricourt Place at the earliest hour for a morning call. Merit opened the door to them and actually kept them waitin
g in the hall while he verified that Mildred and Mr. North were at home. Shoffer nodded his acceptance of this unspoken rebuke, to Merit’s relief.
A few minutes later Merit descended the steps to inform the duke and his sister that the family was indeed at home and would be down in a few minutes. They were guided to the formal drawing room. North and Mildred arrived together, Mildred’s hand resting lightly on Mr. North’s sleeve. Beth came her brother’s side to echo the posture. Both men bowed and ladies curtsied and they stood facing each other.
Millicent’s lips twitched. Shoffer raised an eyebrow, then the tension broke and all four started laughing.
“What a load of bu…” began Millicent.
“Mr. North, there are ladies present,” interrupted Shoffer.
“I was going to say ton. Yesterday, was a lot of Bad ton.”
“Really?” inquired Mildred. “That is not what you called it last night.”
“It is not what you called it, either,” shot back Millicent. “I was quite impressed by your vocabulary. So were three sailors who happened to be passing.”
“I admit I am surprised to see you so well disposed toward each other,” said Shoffer. “I thought there might have been bloodshed.”
“And you came so quickly to my aid,” said Millicent dryly, drawing her pocket watch out and examining it. “It only took you ten hours to find your way back here.”
“Oh, Mr. North apologized and explained last night,” said Mildred. “In fact, there was such beating of the breast, moaning, weeping, and wailing that I was required to accept his apology much earlier than I would have, as I was afraid the neighbors would complain and the servants give notice if I did not.”
Beth giggled, then held out a neatly sealed letter. “I should like to apologize for my presumption. It was very wrong of me to interfere in your preparations. In case I became nervous and forgot what I wished to say, I have put it all in this letter.”
“I shall be certain to read it and admire your phrasing, in case I am ever in the same position,” said Mildred, accepting the note and tucking it away in a pocket, unread.
Before she could continue Merit appeared at the door.
“Mr. Simpson,” he announced and withdrew reluctantly.
Poor Simpson hesitated at the door staring at the assembly.
“I apologize for the disturbance.” He wrung his hands, his eyes flickering from North to Mildred to Shoffer and back to Mildred. “I have come in hope of a private word with Mr. North.”
Mildred’s indrawn breath was the only hint she knew what the private word was about. Millicent affected unconcern and regarded the duke’s secretary calmly.
“Why, Mr. Simpson, how are you today? Have you found something else for me to buy or rent? Dear heaven, I hope I have enough blunt at hand. Is it tea or cake that you come to discuss?” She took Simpson by the elbow and turned him about. “Do come along and tell me all about it.”
Just outside the room she paused and glanced back at Shoffer.
“Oh, no,” laughed Shoffer. “I am not so much an arrogant, smug know-it-all as to intrude on private conversations.”
Millicent wrinkled her nose at him and gave him her back, leading Simpson down the corridor to her study.
Since that room was her “masculine” preserve, it was not much tidier than old Mr. Prichart’s, the Welsh farmer. Papers and broken pens covered all flat surfaces. Filos and boxes of documents were stacked beside her chair.
Simpson sank into the offered chair and folded and unfolded his hands.
“Oh, do stop fussing, Mr. Simpson. I am not an ogre.” Millicent glanced about, seeking some masculine device with which to comfort her visitor, but as she did not smoke or drink, she kept neither in her retreat. “Shall I send for tea?”
“No. No. That is not necessary.”
When Simpson started to climb to his feet to pace, Millicent put a firm hand on his shoulder and pushed him back.
“The only thing I can think of to put you into such a state, would be if you were seeking my cousin’s hand in marriage,” began Millicent.
There was such an expression of relief in Simpson’s eyes that Millicent began laughing.
“What, you think to surprise me? I have been discussing your dowry with His Grace this last week or more.”
“My dowry?” gasped Simpson.
“Why, yes. You thought I would not inquire? I sought out His Grace for confirmation that you will not come empty handed to this marriage.”
Simpson shook his head, confused, then caught the glint of humor in Millicent’s eyes.
“Oh, Mr. North, you quite took me in. You were joking.”
“Exactly so,” said Millicent, with a smile. “I am acquainted with the high regard in which His Grace holds you and assume that you will continue in his employ for some time. My concern for your ability to care for and support my cousin is therefore dispelled. As to the matter of rank and connections, you and my cousin are equals as both of you are distantly related to an earl. Not the same earl, fortunately.”
“Yes. Yes.”
“And I assume that you offer from affection.”
Simpson continued to nod, smiling broadly.
“Excellent. Then the only matter still to be discussed is which one of my cousins did you prefer?”
Simpson stared at her blankly for a few moments, then began to laugh. “And to think I feared to approach you. I should have known better.”
“Oh, do not think me so eager to get my cousins off my hands that I would accept any offer for them. I know Mildred has the greatest respect and affection for you; and, therefore, I bow to her judgment in the matter. I must trust that you promise to care for and look after her?”
“Yes, Mr. North.”
Mildred nodded. “And you know how small her portion is, since you have been present at all my discussions with His Grace on the matter.”
“Yes.”
“Then you have my blessings. Shall I send her to you so you may make her cry?”
“Please.”
Simpson rose and began pacing before the fireplace while Millicent left the room. Tea had been served in the formal parlor and Shoffer, Beth, Maude, and Mildred all looked up, falling silent when Millicent returned. Millicent met all their expectant gazes with a calm one of her own before turning to Maude.
“Maude, dear, may I speak with you privately please?”
“Maude? Maude?” cried Mildred, coming to her feet, her eyes blazing.
“Well, yes,” said Millicent, her expression blank. “Mr. Simpson just asked for the honor of marriage with my prettiest, most serene, beatific, talented cousin. Of course, I knew he meant Maude.”
Mildred snarled at Millicent and pushed her against the wall as she charged past on her way into the hall. Those remaining in the room laughed.
“Actually, Your Grace, Lady Elizabeth, I do need to speak briefly with Maude. If you will excuse us a moment?”
Shoffer and Beth exchanged a puzzled glance. Shoffer nodded and Maude followed Millicent to the second, less formal front parlor.
Millicent waved Maude to the couch and came to sit beside her, taking Maude’s hand in hers.
“You frighten me, Mr. North,” said Maude, paling. “Has Mr. Simpson asked to wed us both? How very Moorish.”
“No, dear girl. Although, I am pleased to see your sense of the absurd is intact. No, I have meant to speak to you for some time, about Mr. Wentworth.”
“Him?” Maude waved a hand dismissively. “He is nothing.”
Millicent’s shoulders sagged. “Dear girl, I am pleased to hear you say so, but why? How has he lost your regard? I admit I have my own reasons for sending him on his way. I wanted you to know that I would not be accepting his pursuit of you.”
“Oh, I am glad to hear you say that. I cannot stand the man. He had the nerve to suggest to me that I ask you to give Mildred’s dowry to me because, he said, Mildred was so old and dull featured that she should never marry, and therefore, migh
t live with you and look after your household and not need the money.”
Millicent reared back and gaped at her. “He wanted Mildred’s dowry in addition to yours?”
“Horrible man. As if I would steal my sister’s money. He is not worthy of my regard and I told him so.”
“I am very glad to hear it. Shoffer suggested he might come to you as a poetical rejected suitor and persuade you to do something silly. I was afraid to raise the matter with you for fear of making him more attractive by being forbidden. Nor do I want you to be motivated by jealousy of your sister’s happiness with Mr. Simpson to make a foolish decision.”
Maude sneered and sniffed at that suggestion, reassuring Millicent of her sister’s good sense.
“Well, I am glad that is settled.” Millicent rose, extending a hand to her sister. “Let us go back to the others and see if we might cancel this dreadful afternoon tea that has been the cause of so much trouble.”
Alas for Millicent’s hopes, Mildred was still determined to have her party.
“I see no reason to cancel,” declared a glowing Mildred when she and Mr. Simpson returned to the formal parlor. “I am quite looking forward to it.”
“But the only reason we beg…”
Mildred pinched Millicent’s arm, hard. Millicent fell silent and let the remainder of the discussion wash over her. It was not until tasks were assigned that she again paid attention. Shoffer and Millicent were given a list of “interesting people” to whom personal invitations were to be issued. The actors and singers already invited were still to attend, but Mildred decided to expand her afternoon tea into a full blown event. If the presence of persons of interest would bring the rest of the ton, then Mildred wanted everyone. Shoffer was even commanded to see what could be done to ensure the presence of the Prince Regent – to his complete horror – and Millicent was ordered to fetch Brummell. Shoffer and Millicent exchanged long suffering glances, made their bows and left, leaving Mr. Simpson to bask in the admiration of his fiancée.
It was not until Shoffer and Millicent were standing on the footpath that Shoffer became aware of some lack in the morning’s events.