A Grand Deception

by Shirley Marks

His mind was a jumble. He could not erase the memory of their chance encounter, nor could he prevent the moment of their meeting from repeating itself in his mind.

  "You are dressed, my lord," Lewis announced. "I hope you are pleased."

  Sherwin stepped back from the full-length glass to where he could clearly see himself.

  The color of his waistcoat stood out in contrast with the brown of the jacket and the fawn of his knee breeches. He narrowed his eyes in consideration. It was then he realized he didn't care for green.

  Muriel and her aunt entered Devonshire House after one in the afternoon with a number of others. This gathering was more informal than a ball.

  Aunt Penny faced Muriel to unfasten her niece's cloak. "Your eyes," her aunt whispered on a sigh. "You look no more rested than yesterday. I insist you march straight to your bedchamber once we return."

  "Have you forgotten? Sukey and I are to drive out with Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Stanley. They have promised us something very special!"

  "Oh, yes. How will you ever catch up on your rest?" Lines of worry appeared upon Aunt Penny's forehead. "When did your constitution become so delicate? I always remember you as a healthy, robust child."

  "I cannot say, Aunt Penny." Muriel thought perhaps she might make some effort to rest and allay her aunt's concern. She felt fine, but it appeared that those around her did not find her so. Especially when they thought she'd slept for more than ten hours.

  After finishing with Muriel's outer garments, Aunt Penny began to remove her own. "There is your Aunt Mary and Constance-go at once and meet them. I shall be along shortly."

  Muriel had the odd feeling she should make a special effort to appear cheerful this morning. The possibility that her secret might be close to discovery unnerved her. She needed to take more care.

  "Good day, Aunt Mary, Constance," Muriel greeted her relatives.

  "Good afternoon, dear Muriel." Aunt Mary's scrutinizing gaze was as keen as Aunt Penny's. "That is a beautiful day dress. Pomona green is a splendid color for you. It complements your hair and brings out your eyes."

  "Yes" Muriel brightened her smile to demonstrate her enthusiasm, as false as it was. "It is one of my favorites. Aunt Penny and I chose this the first week we arrived in Town"

  Constance, a picture in a rose-colored dress, linked her arm through her cousin's. "Let us continue, shall we? Her Grace wishes those of us who are to practice to meet with the dance master in the Saloon."

  "It is quite probable that you will marry one of these young ladies," Lady Amhurst told Sherwin over her shoulder as she led the way to the Devonshire House Saloon. "You must make your greatest effort to be agreeable, Sherwin."

  "Yes, Mother." Sherwin adjusted his sleeves, still distracted by the meaning of his encounter at the ruins. He could not bring himself to focus upon the present gathering.

  Muriel hadn't seemed cross with him then. He remembered her cheeks flushed from the excitement of her discovery, the surprised expression, and her beauty ... a long, soft curl brushing her smooth cheek. Her presence there proved she still held interest in what she'd once termed "all things Roman."

  So who was this Lady Muriel who had come to London to find a husband? Surely not the same as the young woman who'd come to see the ruined Roman wall.

  But she had arrived with that man at an unseemly early hour. Sherwin knew he should not trouble himself with Muriel's conduct, but the unusual circumstances were worrisome.

  "Sherwin! Are you listening to me?" his mother scolded him, and rightfully so. He hadn't heard a word she'd said.

  "Mama's right. That is a lovely frock." Constance glanced at Muriel's dress.

  "Thank you, cous-" Muriel meant to return the compliment, but her cousin continued speaking.

  "And you have every reason to want to look your best should you encounter him again. I suspect he will attend." They approached the open double doors of the Saloon. Constance leaned close to whisper, "The on dit is that there has been some sort of betrayal between the two of you-a love triangle, perhaps?"

  "Do you mean to tell me the Earl of-" Muriel paused. Of course her cousin meant him. "What a load of rubbish. There is nothing of the sort."

  "How else can you explain how it is that you two so often frequent the same places?" Constance's eyes went wide in accusation. "It is done out of spite, of course."

  Their accidental meetings were no more than simply receiving, and accepting, the same invitations. She and the Earl had come across each other at a few parties, in the Park. Constance could not know, no one could know, about their meeting at the Roman wall that morning. Muriel still had some difficulty reconciling that her dear friend Sherwin Lloyd and Lord Amhurst were one and the same.

  She missed him-Sherwin. Muriel had been trying her best to forget him, which proved difficult when she kept running into him. Then there were the times when she was alone, and thoughts of him came unbidden.

  Her gaze drifted along the guests inside the Saloon. And there- Yes, she saw him. Muriel did her best not to look in his direction, and perhaps it was too noticeable that she never glanced to the east side of the room where he stood.

  The soft murmurs eventually fell to hushed whispers. The Duchess of Devonshire bid a warm welcome to her guests and then introduced the dance master, Monsieur Gravois, who took charge at once.

  Dark-haired, short, and slender, Monsieur Gravois sported a pointed moustache. His white shirtfront shone in stark relief to an otherwise all-black wardrobe. He stood with the bearing of a ballet dancer, extending his limbs and toes when he moved from one side of the room to the other. He chose ladies and gentlemen at random, indicating, with the end of his long baton, where they should stand in the square formation for the quadrille.

  They first spent an inordinate amount of time correcting hand positions. The Monsieur walked up and down the length of the room examining the various guests' appendages until he was satisfied.

  Then they moved on to footwork. The guests endured step-by-step critiques before the addition of slow music. Misplaced feet, heels, and toes were corrected. Soon the groups moved in proper tempo across the floor. No one could say they had not greatly improved.

  All music, dancing, and instruction came to an end when, several hours later, the Duchess of Devonshire intervened.

  "You've all done very well," the Duchess commented, seemingly satisfied with the practice. "I doubt we shall repeat the unfortunate incident at the Shropes' the other night. What a disaster that was!" She put off all the bad feelings that the faux pas invoked. "Let us move on to something new, shall we?"

  "Za valtz," the dance master announced.

  "Waltz!" someone cried out.

  "But, Your Grace," a timid yet brave Lady Emily objected. "I have not yet been given permission to dance that at Almack's."

  The Duchess turned her head in Lady Emily's direction, presenting her with an imperious glare. "The Patronesses of Almack's have no say here. Tonight you all shall be attending my party."

  "I beg Your Grace's pardon." Lady Emily, who'd been nudged repeatedly by her mother, sank into a deep curtsy.

  "C'est Tien, enfant." A magnanimous smile spread over the Duchess' lips. "We need a couple for demonstration purposes" She gestured to the dance master. "Monsieur!"

  Sherwin did not wish to be chosen. He had the irrational thought that if he stood very still, perhaps he would not be noticed. He stared at his hand, smoothing the sleeve of his jacket so as not to meet the gaze of either the dance master or the Duchess.

  Monsieur Gravois spun to face the dancers. "Mademoiselle?" he called out to an unfortunate female he'd selected.

  The Duchess took her time to stroll down the line of guests. Her Grace stopped when she reached ...

  "My lord?" She held out her hand to Sherwin.

  He knew better than to refuse.

  Sherwin accepted with a curt nod and took hold of the Duchess' proffered hand. His mouth had gone dry, and he could not speak. And how would he move forward to follow her? His
legs felt heavy, and his knees refused to bend. He would be unable to walk behind the hostess, much less dance with the female Monsieur Gravois had chosen. And was he to dance alone before all these people? He was to be an example? This was embarrassment on a level he'd never imagined.

  "Excellent. It is good to see our new earl is brave." The Duchess led him to the unoccupied portion of the room. There she turned him to face his partner.

  Although he could not see her clearly, Sherwin had no doubt the lady before him was Muriel.

  Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire positioned the two of them together in the center of the floor. "Place your hand there, just like that-" She laid Sherwin's hand across Muriel's shoulder and hers over his. "Yes, that's right. Monsieur Gravois, come, s'il vows plait." She waved to the dance master to approach.

  "Oui!" The delicate Frenchman appeared and joined the couple's free hands in front of them, Sherwin's above Muriel's. "We weel begin!" He instructed what each should do for the promenade. He then stepped closer to adjust their position, standing side by side where their arms arched over their heads. Monsieur barked, "Les yeux!"

  Sherwin looked forward, meeting Muriel's gaze as ordered, and they gracefully stepped around each other in time to the baton thumping on the floor. They might have been alone in the large room, for no other sounds were heard. Not a whisper, a cough, or a sniffle from the guests.

  "They're doing this on purpose," Muriel grumbled in clear dissatisfaction, staring straight ahead.

  "For what reason?" Despite his embarrassment at being singled out and the only couple upon the dance floor, Sherwin was rather enjoying himself at the moment.

  "We are on display for their amusement." Instead of becoming loud and animated, Muriel contained her ire, showing not a trace of what she felt. "All they want is to see us bicker."

  "I find it difficult to believe you would allow anyone to make sport of you." After years of correspondence, Sherwin felt he had fair knowledge of her moods.

  "Droit, monsieur, za right!" Monsieur Gravois corrected in a high, reedy tone.

  Sherwin felt the dance master's baton tap his leg. Stepping to face Muriel, he brought his hand to rest at her waist.

  "And you are certain I could contrive a plan to avoid humiliation?" Muriel placed her hands upon his shoulders.

  "If anyone could, it would be you." Sherwin would be the first to admit he was not nearly as clever as she. No one was, actually. He quite admired her for it.

  "And if my solution is one not to your liking, what then?" Muriel rotated around him, to his left.

  "As well as you must know, I do not care for undue attention. I am amenable to any sensible solution." With an ear to the dance master's instructions, Sherwin's full attention centered on what Muriel would say next.

  "Very well, if you give me a moment." She fell quiet and relaxed somewhat in his arms during her contemplation.

  Sherwin slid his hand a fraction more toward her spine to secure his hold. He felt a bit self-conscious that he should touch her so intimately before all these people.

  "We shall call a truce." She glanced up at him hopefully. "If we return to an amicable arrangement, there cannot be anything of interest for them to observe. We shall smile at each other and be pleasant."

  "Maintenant, we begin again!" Monsieur Gravois announced with a quick double clap of his hands.

  "An excellent idea. I knew a solution could be had once you put your mind to it. " Sherwin pasted on his best effort, removed his left hand from her waist, and they returned to their original position to repeat the first steps again. "In any case, I have come to realize that I owe you an apology for that night we first met at Almack's."

  He cleared his throat before taking her left hand in his and raising it above their heads for the pirouette. Although he stared into her face, he could not see her features clearly, only the green of her eyes.

  Wasn't green the most beautiful color in existence? How had he ever thought otherwise?

  "I believe we may have behaved in an unreasonable manner at our first encounter." Sherwin stepped around her as the Earth and moon rotated in the sky. "Iwas-amjust as guilty of omission as you. I had no right to accuse you ofIn any case, I apologize for my rudeness and any embarrassment I might have caused. Perhaps I might have a chance to explain my behavior to you at a later date."

  "I accept your apology and give you mine." Muriel admitted that it was silly for them to behave as if they were stubborn schoolchildren. They were not children anymore.

  When she had first stood up with him, Muriel could not help but flinch at his touch. The longer they moved to the music, however, the easier it had become to accept the contact. He slid his arm around her waist and leaned close for her to place her hands upon his shoulders. Was it wrong that standing so close, touching him, did not now annoy her in the least?

  Still, Muriel did not like how exposed she felt. Nervous not because she was to dance before the other guests but because she had the distinct impression they would all know that she did not hate him. Not really, not anymore. She could not stay angry with him.

  Although he had apologized for his actions, it seemed to Muriel that he did not care for her as he had previously, before their meeting at Almack's. They had enjoyed such an easy friendship. Their letters had always been of a pleasant nature over the years. If only they could return to that polite correspondence they'd once had-except all written communication had come to a halt. Muriel doubted she would ever receive another letter from him.

  As much as he might have forgiven her, his opinion of her had clearly altered in recent days. That much was clear by his exceptionally polite attitude toward her. Any ease and geniality of their previous conversations, if only previously expressed in written form, were obviously not to return.

  One ought to be grateful for the civility at least.

  "I accept your apology," she repeated, "and I will gladly listen to your explanation." Muriel allowed her gaze to slide from her dance partner to the audience observing them. She considered how disappointed they would be not to see the couple before them at odds. What would they think if it were known that she actually took pleasure in dancing with him? It was a confession she did not wish to make to anyone. She did not even wish to admit it to herself. "Let us do what we can to defuse our current situation, shall we?"

  Returning her attention to Sherwin, Muriel did her best to show the onlookers how delighted she was to dance with the Earl. She smiled at him as if he were the sun in their cosmic dance.

  The guests appeared completely put out now that she and Sherwin thoroughly enjoyed, or seemed to, each other's company. As shocking as it seemed, Muriel did. She could not, however, hazard a guess on her partner's behalf.

  Soft grumbling and general discontented sounds came from the audience.

  Muriel's smile widened in earnest. There was nothing she liked better than being right.

  Almost an hour had passed, and Sherwin could not forget the adoring expression on Muriel's face. He only wished he could have seen it more clearly. What he could make out had caused warmth to spread outward from his chest, filling him with an overall blissful sense of well-being.

  "I'm allowing you to visit the Egyptian Hall for an outingpray, you do not ignore Miss Holbrook for some ancient stone sculpture." Lady Amhurst's voice broke through Sherwin's obscured vision. "I know how fond you are of antiquities."

  He guessed the only way an ancient stone sculpture would be of any interest to Miss Holbrook was if it wore a fetching bonnet of superior quality, which was something he couldn't quite imagine.

  "There!" Lewis announced.

  "Very handsome," Lady Amhurst concurred. "Especially with that maroon paisley waistcoat."

  Sherwin thought the selection a bit too funereal but said nothing. Lifting the quizzing glass hanging from the corded ribbon around his neck, he wished to reassure himself it was not forgotten. He was positive there would be something at the Egyptian Hall worth a closer inspection.

>   Sherwin had been correct. Standing across the street from the entrance of the Egyptian Hall some two hours later, he clearly saw that although Isis and Osiris wore Egyptian crowns, neither sported what Miss Holbrook would consider a fashionable bonnet.

  "Are those the types of things you expect to see inside?" Miss Holbrook held on to Sherwin's arm and stared at the decorative doorway.

  "I do believe you are correct, my dear." Sherwin felt unusually elated. "It is the Egyptian Hall after all."

  The very opportunity to visit might have explained his added delight, but it was much more than that. Sherwin glanced around, expecting to see ... what? He thought, he hoped, actually, he anticipated her presence-Muriel's.

  From his position across the street, Sherwin spotted Muriel and Miss Susan Wilbanks, accompanied by the same two gentlemen they'd been out with on a drive a few days earlier. The foursome stood before the entrance, staring at the facade looming above them.

  Muriel had the most uncanny ability to appear in the same place, at the same time, as he. He easily recalled her expression in the Park, at the Roman ruins, and at Hatchards Bookstore ....

  He had watched her enter the bookstore, escorted by a young man whom Sherwin did not know. What he had noticed was Muriel's flush of excitement upon sight of the tall, endless bookshelves. She had not shown it outwardly, but he could see her eyes sparkle with interest. The young lady he'd brought, Lady Sophie, was clearly bored to tears when faced with the prospect of visiting the bookstore and fussed with her lace-ruffled sleeve.

  Sherwin could not help noticing Muriel's indecision at whether or not to purchase a copy of a book she'd discovered. The manner in which she'd wrapped it in her arms told him of her precious find. In the end, for a reason not clear to him, she'd returned the book to its place on the shelf.

  After she'd left, and when he was certain he would not be seen, Sherwin immediately retrieved the book to see the title, Cursus Publicus: Roads of the Roman Empire, and summarily purchased it. He treasured not only the information lying inside but now understood the real value the book held ... she had touched the very same binding.