by Joan Smith
Griffin was forgiven for having surprised her. The prince had called her incomparable, and really there had not been any other young gentlemen there who would have appreciated her more elegant toilettes. In fact, she modestly admitted that outside of the prince himself, she was the most elegant creature in the room. The Countess de Lieven wore an ugly old puce turban, without even a feather in it.
Alice was usually the first lady into her pelisse. She joined Griffin, who was waiting near the door, smiling triumphantly.
“Was I right, or was I right, brat?” he asked.
“She would have liked it better if you had let her know in advance."
“Very likely, but I would not have liked it half as well. She would have pouted me into inviting Dunsmore. You were alerted. How does it come you are not decked in diamonds and finery?"
“This is my best gown! It has spangles and everything,” she said, pointing to a sprinkle of spangles at the very hem of the skirt. “I don't own any diamonds,” she added, hurt at his oblique charge of dowdiness.
“Sorry, Sal. You look very nice,” he said, embarrassed.
“The prince said I was an incomparable. He said Myra was, too. I daresay he says that to all the young ladies. What were you and he talking about all evening, Griffin?"
“We discussed our Brazilian experiences,” he replied, with one of his wicked grins. “In fact, we are thinking of writing a book about them."
“I suggest you leave out the bit about the Princess Nwani. Myra did not care for that story."
“Funny, it was Prinny's favorite."
“Did you really—you know—marry her?” she said primly.
“I did not marry her,” he replied mischievously.
“But did you—the story said it would be a fatal insult to refuse her."
“You'll have to ask Prinny—or wait and buy the book,” he said, looking at the blush that suffused her cheeks. In the old days, Sal would not have blushed; but then the old Sal would not have known about such wicked things as sex. He felt a stab of nostalgia that she had changed. “I think that's horrid of you."
“Don't be an ass, Sal. I did not marry her, unless having our heads bound together with vines constitutes marriage among the Tabajo. Certainly the ceremony was not consummated. There, now are you satisfied?"
So much had changed in five years, and he had missed it all. Even Myra had changed, in some manner he could not quite put a finger on. She was still beautiful; in fact, more beautiful than before. She had matured from a shy girl into a shy lady, but no longer so shy as to give in to his every whim as she used to. It was difficult for her, having to jilt Dunsmore. He appreciated her scruples, but he was becoming demmed impatient to get on with the wedding.
“You look sad, Griffin,” Alice said, watching him.
“I am not sad, exactly. It is just—they call it saudades in Portuguese."
“What does it mean?"
“You cannot put it into English."
“Everything can be translated into English,” she said stubbornly.
"Bruxa."
“I suppose that is some sort of insult."
“That one has a translation at least. It means witch. Saudades would take a whole essay to describe. It is a sort of nostalgia, a yearning for what is past, a kind of pleasurable sense of loss. I don't know."
Myra and Mrs. Newbold arrived, and Griffin turned his attention to ushering the ladies to the carriage. Their excited chatter filled the short journey to the hotel.
Dunsmore was not at the hotel, as Myra had hoped, but there were so many other members of the ton there that she was admired to her entire satisfaction. Word of Prinny's party preceded them, and the room buzzed with excitement when they entered.
Lady Sara ran over to quiz them. “Is it true you have been at Canton House, Griffin?” she demanded, and was assured that it was. “Tell me all about it. Every word. What did he say?"
Myra blushed shyly and replied, “He said I was an incomparable. Old silly, and me in this old blue gown. Griffin was horrid! He pretended we were going to the theater, then whisked me off to Canton House."
“What had he to say about your adventures, Griffin?” Lady Sara said, for her real interest was in the gentleman.
“He stole Griffin away from me for the whole evening,” Myra replied. “But the Countess de Lieven arranged partners for me. Lord Beresford, and Sir Humphrey Dodge."
“Dunsmore was not there?” Lady Sara asked eagerly She was not too proud to take Myra's leavings.
“I think—but you must not breathe a word—that Griffin pulled a very sly stunt on Dunny,” Myra said. “He sent the duke off to the theater alone!” A rill of triumphant laughter hung on the air.
“Shabby, Griffin!” Lady Sara chided.
“I think it was a wretched thing to do,” Alice said, with an accusing glare at Griffin.
“I agree,” Griffin said with a bow, “but all's fair in love and war, ladies. If Dunsmore wishes to call me out, I shan't refuse the challenge. Like the Guards, I may die, but I shall not surrender.” He studied Myra as he delivered this gallant threat.
She smiled her satisfaction, and went on with some more self-congratulatory nonsense, while Mrs. Newbold looked on in pique. Griffin could vulgarize even a visit to Canton House. She disliked especially any hint at a duel. She did not care much for that sharp look in Lady Sara's eyes either. She would have the wits to snap up Dunsmore in a flash. Or Griffin for that matter. Of course, she was a regular ape-leader. She was already old news when Myra had made her bows five years ago.
Alice also looked on in disapproval at Griffin's bantering. All this attention was going to Myra's head. Could Griffin not see what a vain girl she was? “Let us have the champagne and go home,” she said crossly. “My head aches from the awful lights and heat of Carlton House."
“Amen,” Griffin agreed, and hailed a waiter.
Nothing meriting the name conversation occurred while they were at the Pulteny. A constant stream of friends stopped by and were told that the prince, old silly, insisted that Myra was an incomparable. Alice did not bother to add that he had also called her an imcomparable. Where was the compliment in that, when his idea of a pretty lady was the plump and aging matron, Lady Hertford?
Lord Griffin remained unaware of Myra's vanity. She was smiling on him that evening, and that was enough. He felt sure his trick had worked. He would offer her the diamond when they got home. This would require some privacy, and he managed a word with Alice to help him arrange it.
“I mean to strike while the iron is hot,” he whispered, while Myra was busy with one of the guests who stopped at their table. “Can you get your mama out of the saloon on some ruse? She seems strangely averse to leaving me alone with Myra. Odd, when one considers we are engaged."
“I shall claim a headache, and call her upstairs. But I cannot promise she will remain away long, Griffin. You must work quickly."
“I always do. Thanks, brat,” he said, and chucked her chin.
She tossed her head angrily. “I have asked you not to call me that, Griffin. You forget, the prince also called me an incomparable tonight."
Her eyes glittered with blocked tears. Her proud little head added a new note of dignity. Griffin studied her and said, “And he was right. You have gone and grown up on me, while my back was turned. I shan't torment you with old memories again. From now on, you are Miss Alice."
A reluctant smile drew her lips into a moue. “I don't mind if you call me Sal,” she said. “It is just that brat is so degrading. I am five feet and five inches now. Taller than Myra."
“Yes, I noticed you come up to my chin,” he said, bemused by this trace of the flirt in little Sal.
At last they left the Pulteny. Mrs. Newbold, in a generous mood after her exciting evening, invited Griffin in. “We shall have a cup of tea to settle our stomachs after this rare evening,” she said.
Alice caught Griffin's eye and said, “I shall go up to bed, if you don't mind. I am not feeli
ng very well, Mama."
“Run along, dear. We shan't be long."
When Alice, hanging over the banister, saw the tea tray being carried in, she ran to her room and called her mama's dresser. “Will you ask Mama to come up?” she said, holding her head. “I feel so wretched, I fear I may need the doctor."
“Mercy child, you look pink all over. Scramble into bed, and I shall send for your mama."
The message was delivered belowstairs. Myra directed a frightened glance at her mama, at being left alone with the savage.
“I shan't be a moment,” Mrs. Newbold assured her, and nipped upstairs.
“At last we are alone,” Griffin said, and smiled a smile that sent shivers shooting through Myra's whole body.
Chapter Six
Griffin rose and sat beside Myra on the sofa. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Myra, darling, it has been a week—” he said, and smiled hopefully at her.
Myra's eyelashes fluttered chaotically. She was more than a little curious to see how Griffin's private lovemaking had changed from days of yore, yet she was also extremely uneasy.
“I know, Griffin,” she said. “I have been trying to make up my mind."
His lambent, steaming eyes devoured her, and when he spoke, his voice was a silken insinuation. “Let me help you,” he said, and without further ado, he drew her into his arms for a kiss that set her heart banging like a drum in her breast, and her mind reeling. Accustomed to Dunsmore's chaste embraces, she was not prepared for this sort of onslaught. She soon pushed him away.
“Well?” he said.
“I—oh, Griffin, it is so very hard, but I think I love you more,” she said breathlessly. “At least I do not feel like this with Dunsmore.” Whether she quite liked feeling “like this” was what she wished to ponder. The racing pulse and the reeling head were enjoyable for a short period, but whether she wanted to actually live with such violent sensations was a moot point.
Griffin, already sure he had carried the day, produced the diamond ring and slid it on her finger. When she was out with Griffin, she removed the ring Dunsmore had given her. The diamond felt like a deadweight on her finger. Its cold glitter overpowered her dainty hand.
“It is very large,” she said, without a trace of enthusiasm, and pulled it off.
“As a symbol of my enormous love for you,” he replied, shoving it back on.
She pulled it off and handed it to him. “You keep it until I have made up my mind, Griffin."
“As I said, you have had a week, Myra. In fact, we have known each other from the cradle, and you have, presumably, known Dunsmore well for longer than a week. It is time to make up your mind, my dear. You cannot keep two grown men in limbo forever. Dunsmore—or me. You must decide, now."
Myra thought of her trip to Carlton House, and of all the commotion she caused when she was on the strut with Griffin. She realized that the bronzed face and dark eyes regarding her were more handsome by far than Dunsmore's pallid features. She had even ceased finding the little gold earring strange. Yet she had truly loved Dunny. It was impossible! How could she decide? She loved them both.
Her instinctive reaction to such frustration was to cry, and she did so now. Myra cried beautifully. There was no sniffling, no red nose, but a slow blooming of crystal tears in her matchless blue eyes, accompanied by trembling lips. “I cannot decide. I love you both. Don't make me say something I shall regret, dear Griffin. Give me a little longer."
Griffin was touched by her tears, and could not demand an immediate decision. He felt like a monster, yet he was desperate to have the thing wrapped up, one way or the other. He patted her fingers, and told her not to cry. Of course she must have a little longer.
“I do not want to rush you, but you must know I have extremely urgent business at Mersham. I cannot put off going home much longer. I hoped I might carry my fiancée home with me."
Myra sensed a reprieve. With Griffin at Mersham and her and Dunny in town, she could continue her triumph as Griffin's sweetheart, without the turmoil of his physical presence. Dunny would never demand that she make up her mind. He would happily dangle after her forever. Really that was what she wanted. This had been the most wonderful period of her life, and she was in no rush to end it.
“Yes, you must go,” she said with a sad look. “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she added enticingly.
“But of whom? I cannot like to leave you here alone with Dunsmore."
“I will not be alone, Griffin. Mama will be here to chaperon.
Much good that would do him! He had a pretty clear idea which parti the mama favored. Alice, on the other hand, was in his camp. He would set her the job of watching out for his interests, and notifying him if that demmed sheep in sheep's clothing seemed to be gaining ground.
The sound of approaching footsteps warned them that Mrs. Newbold was returning, and they drew apart.
Myra said, “Griffin has just been telling me that he must go to Mersham, Mama."
Good riddance! “Ah, and when must you leave?” the mama asked, damping down a hoot of joy.
“Tomorrow."
“Will you be gone long?"
“As the Season is nearly over, I expect you ladies will also be returning to Mersham soon. I had not planned to return to town in the immediate future. Perhaps a dashing visit from time to time, to tend to business.” He went on to mention projected meetings with scientists and publishers.
Mrs. Newbold did some rapid conjecturing. The Season had a week to run. They would remain another week after to finish up the wedding plans, and Myra need not see Griffin again until she was a duchess. She would soon forget him if he was out of her sight.
“It is a pity you must run off so soon, Griffin. We shall notify you as soon as we return to Newbold Hall,” the dame said, with every appearance of civility.
“I look forward to it. I trust you have no objection to my writing to Myra?"
Mrs. Newbold disliked it very much, but could not like to forbid it outright, or he might stay in town. “I see nothing amiss in that."
“I shall call before leaving tomorrow, in case you have any messages to be sent home,” he said.
“Perhaps you would like to take breakfast with us?” Mrs. Newbold suggested. She felt a little like Pontius Pilate, for she had always liked Griffin, and he had taken her to meet the prince. Dunsmore, for all his connections, had never heeded that hint. But what she craved more than anything else at that time was a dukedom for her daughter.
“Thank you, but I have adopted the habit of rising early, ma'am. In the wilds, there is no artificial light, you know. One lives close to nature, with the sun as the guide. I have a few meetings arranged for later in the morning. Will you be home around eleven?"
“We shall make it a point to be here.” She thanked him for the wonderful evening and said good night.
Griffin hoped she would leave him a moment alone with Myra, but she stuck like a barnacle. He made his bows and left, unhappy with the outcome. He had promised himself he would get a straight answer before leaving. How had he let Myra wind him round her finger? It was her tears, of course ... He never could be savage with a bawling woman.
“What took you so long?” Myra asked her mama, when they were alone.
“Sal has a sick stomach. Too much champagne, I wager."
“I thought you would never get back. Griffin demanded I make up my mind."
“What did you tell him?” the mama demanded in alarm.
“Oh, Mama, I could not decide. Perhaps when he is gone, I will be able to see things more clearly. He wanted to give me a diamond ring—a huge thing. It looked like a block of ice."
“You never liked big jewelry."
“No, it does not suit me. Rings, especially. I have small hands."
“A lady is wise to stick to what suits her. Great flashy things cause a stir, but there is something to be said for comfort over the long haul."
Her beady look told Myra that Mama was being
clever. “Yes, Griffin is very handsome, but I never am comfortable when I am with him, somehow."
“Was Dunsmore planning to call tomorrow morning?"
Myra's fingers flew to her lips. “I forgot! He is coming for me at eleven. We were to drive to Bond Street."
“Put him off until afternoon. He will not complain when he learns the reason. Griffin was to accompany us to a few parties this next week. I wonder if it will be convenient for Dunsmore to take his place. Perhaps he has made other plans."
“Don't be silly, Mama. Of course he will accompany us."
“You must not take the duke for granted, dear. There is no saying he is not looking about for another girl, since he fears losing you. I noticed Lady Sara looking pretty sharp when you were laughing at Dunsmore tonight at the hotel. It would be just like her to go running to the duke with the story. She would not sit so long on her thumbs if she could wring an offer out of him."
This sly speech had exactly the desired effect. Myra was thrown into a fright, and dashed upstairs to write her note to Dunsmore at once, although she would not send it to him until morning.
Lord Griffin rushed through his business the next morning and called at ten-thirty. Alice had been informed of his leaving, and urged her mama to return to Newbold Hall.
“Peagoose! This is our chance to get Myra to choose Dunsmore."
“Don't you like Griffin, Mama? You were chirping merry when he proposed to Myra before he left for Brazil."
“I like him excessively, but I like Dunsmore better. It will not do you any harm, being chaperoned by a duchess next year, puss. There is no saying you won't nab a duke yourself. Or Dunsmore's cousin, the Marquess of Lansdowne."
Mrs. Newbold bustled off to speak to Cook. Myra remained abovestairs, putting the final touches to her toilette. Alice was alone in the saloon when Griffin arrived. For different reasons, they were both happy for a private visit.
Griffin hastened to the sofa and sat down, taking her two hands in his. “I want you to do a favor for me, Alice,” he said, peering to the door. “I must go home, but I want you to keep an eye on Dunsmore and Myra. Try to keep them apart if you can."