"Are you quite certain this is where you wish to visit?" Miss Holbrook's reservations were palpable.
Sherwin glanced at the lady on his arm. Perhaps it was best they not enter. To be seen so close to Muriel so soon after the Devonshire party that afternoon might cause more unwanted talk.
"Am I correct in assuming the Egyptian Hall does not hold any interest for you?" Sherwin offered her a smile and patted her gloved hand. "That's all right. I'm quite sure an ice at Gunther's is more to your taste."
This would be exactly the type of place she might find him frequenting. Muriel gazed around at the gathering crowd standing before the Egyptian Hall after she had looked her fill at the statues, ankhs, and various other creatures adorning the great entrance. He seemed to have the ability to turn up at the same place as she at the exact same time as she. If it were not for her notion that Sherwin might be near, Muriel might have enjoyed attending the museum for its own merits.
"Fascinating! This is simply astounding, do you not think, Lady Muriel?" Mr. Ambrose stared up at the towering Osiris and Isis and sounded quite sincere.
"Yes, indeed, sir, this is certainly an unequaled sight to behold," Muriel replied. She'd gazed the length of both sides of the street and did not see a sign of the Earl.
"You may find some of their lectures of interest, Lady Muriel. If you should think you would like to attend, pray, allow me to accompany you."
"Thank you. It is most kind of you to offer." Muriel might like to attend, but she felt certain her father would frown upon the very idea. Not that he had any objections to Mr. Ambrose, but he might fear that his youngest would slip back into her bookish ways. Muriel had not abandoned them; they were merely hidden. "I shall give the thought some consideration. Shall we proceed inside, sir?"
"Of course. I did not wish to continue before you ladies were ready." He looked to Susan and Mr. Stanley, who were discussing the massive ornate facade before them.
"I am sure I can speak for Miss Wilbanks that we are more than ready to move forward." Muriel had no doubt that what lay inside would prove interesting to her. Susan, on the other hand, might find the outing only tolerable.
If Muriel were to guess, what her friend truly enjoyed was being in the company of Mr. Stanley, no matter what their destination.
After returning Miss Holbrook to her residence, Sherwin sat in the barouche reminiscing over the time he had spent with Muriel that morning at Devonshire House. It had been very uncomfortable at first. But when he stood close to her, took her hand into his, touched her ... A smile spread across his face. He could not deny it had been very pleasant.
Then he recalled that very afternoon at the Egyptian Hall. Muriel's astonished expression was not one he'd soon forget. Mr. Ambrose had not seemed nearly as impressed with the towering, marble-columned Isis and Osiris entrance as she. And whatever did she see in that man?
A bright glint woke Sherwin from his trance. The reflection of light from a fob, dangling from a gentleman's ribbon, caught his attention. Up ahead, walking along the street he traveled upon, were Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Stanley.
"Stop the carriage!" Sherwin had a burning desire to know where the two men were headed. He kneeled on the opposite bench and grabbed the driver's coat to gain his attention.
"I cannot, milord," the driver replied. "I has my orders from your lady mother." But the horses slowed. "I am to return directly to Lloyd Place at the conclusion of your afternoon drive."
The barouche had slowed enough for Sherwin to leap from the transport to the ground without injury. He called up to the driver, "Very well, then, you follow your orders. I would not wish to see you sacked on my account." He glanced at the two men across the street, making sure they remained in sight. Sherwin brushed off his trousers, straightened his waistcoat, and set the sleeves of his jacket to rights.
Then the carriage came to a full stop. Horse hooves and their jangling riggings nearly muffled the driver's reply. "What shall I tell her ladyship? She cannot like this, milord. I beg of you..."
"That will be my problem, won't it?" Sherwin would face that difficulty when it arrived, for his mother would not be pleased by his absence.
Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Stanley turned into a doorway and entered an establishment, which caused Sherwin to take immediate notice and end his discourse with the driver.
"How will you manage to find your way back to Lloyd Place?" the coachman called down to him.
"I cannot think about that now. All I know is that I will manage." Sherwin had to move forward or lose the two gentlemen altogether. "I'll not have you disobey Lady Amhurst. Off with you!"
Sherwin crossed the barouche's wake after it moved down the street without him. He glanced at the building's white exterior and bow window before stepping inside.
"Lord Amhurst!" one of the staff members nearly shouted. With a shuffle of papers, a few others dashed around him, and a second steward called out, "Welcome to White's Gentlemen's Club!"
The dues had been paid, he was told, for a lifelong membership for the earls of Amhurst. Sherwin wasn't quite sure what he had stumbled into. White's Gentlemen's Club? All he knew was that Mr. Ambrose and Mr. Stanley had entered.
He strode down the carpeted hall and through a doorway, turned, and turned again through another portal, full of purpose but without knowledge of the destination.
What did Ambrose have that Sherwin lacked? Was he taller, more handsome, or better educated? Why would Muriel prefer the company of this man to Sherwin's?
Dash it! Sherwin glanced about. He was lost ... yet again. He was only moments behind Ambrose and yet had managed to lose his quarry.
He stepped into a room where two young gentlemen stood at a hearth with drinks and cheroots, resting their feet on the fender. They straightened at Sherwin's sudden appearance and abruptly left.
No sooner had the young men departed than a trio of elderly gentlemen poked their heads out from around three tall leather chairs before getting to their feet and quitting the room.
No one wanted to be near him and the blue-devilled way he was feeling at the moment. The sentiment was reciprocal.
He clasped his hands behind his back and paced before the now-deserted, smoldering fireplace.
"I say . . ." A sotto voice interrupted Sherwin's solitude.
Sherwin turned, not to glare at the disturbance but to see who'd been brave enough to enter.
"Lloyd? Is that you?" A wavy-haired fellow strode into the room, fairly skipping.
Sherwin pivoted toward him for a better look. If the fellow got any closer, he'd appear as only a giant blur.
"Freddie?" He almost did not recognize the Earl of Brent outside of the walls of Eton. Two years Sherwin's senior, Muriel's brother, Freddie, had recently been graduated and had been acquainted with him for these last four years.
"It is you! What the devil-" Freddie glanced around the empty room. "You look a veritable thundercloud ... and, by the by, what are you doing in Town?" He strode to his schoolmate and shook his hand. "Thought you had no stomach for the social scene, Lloyd."
"I don't, and it's Amhurst now, I'm afraid." He hated the sound of it and secretly dreaded it when people called him by that name.
"You're the new earl?" Freddie returned.
Sherwin answered with a curt nod. "Lost my brother Charles in the war last year, and both James and Father were carried off by influenza this past winter."
Freddie gave a sharp, low whistle. "Rum luck, of man." He clapped Sherwin on the shoulder.
A lump came to Sherwin's throat, and his eyes began to water. Freddie's clap had been the only physical contact he'd received to console him.
"Now you're saddled with the family responsibility. What wise words does Moo have for you?"
"I never told her of my circumstance." Sherwin tried to sound brave.
"Never?" Freddie turned to a sideboard to fill two glasses and held one out for Sherwin.
"No." Sherwin declined the spirits with a shake of his head.
"Does she know you're here in Town looking for a bride?" The question evidently was not an inquiry regarding Sherwin's purpose but whether or not Muriel knew of it.
Sherwin was taken aback. He hadn't mentioned anything about marriage.
"You'd surely be in deep mourning if the need for a wife was not imperative, my man." Freddie chuckled, then sipped from his glass.
"Just so," Sherwin acknowledged. "I made the mistake of not relaying those details to Moo-Lady Muriel. In my defense, she never mentioned her intention of coming to Town either. We met inadvertently at Almack's the other night, and, I must admit, we each surprised the other. There was a rather unpleasant row."
"In the middle of Almack's?" Freddie's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, Moo values honesty if nothing else. So I can see why she'd be upset."
"We're no longer at daggers drawn. Managed to patch things up for the time being. Hope it holds." Sherwin had no idea how things would be between them when next they met. Couldn't be any worse than it had been, really. "Have you seen her?"
"No, I haven't stopped at Worth House yet. Just got into Town and thought I'd wash a bit of traveling dust off before dropping in on the family." Freddie set his empty glass upon the table. "I knew you two exchanged letters. I thought you fancied her."
Perhaps Sherwin did, a little.
"No, there's nothing between us-not romantic-no, it's nothing like that." Sherwin felt his face grow warm. He knew there should not be any objection to the topics they discussed. Men had been called out and shot for the unsavory behavior of which Freddie spoke. And, being her brother, he'd be the one taking the initiative to restore his sister's honor.
"I believe you are in need of a friend," Freddie announced.
"I-I am in need of a what?" Sherwin stared at Freddie as best he could, although the Earl of Brent appeared as a hazy blob of brown.
"You need a male companion. Someone to set an example, show you how to be handy with your fives, punt on tick, watch that you don't stray into dun territory, and see to it that-"
"-I dress well?" Sherwin straightened with interest.
"Is there a problem with your wardrobe?" Freddie eyed Sherwin with less formality than Miss Torrington had last night. "Your clothing appears to be finely constructed."
"I didn't choose these. My mother did." It was a confession Sherwin hated to voice.
"Oh, I see your point." Freddie reached for the decanter and filled his glass.
"I think a man has a right to have a say about his own clothing, don't you?" Sherwin hadn't thought along these lines before Miss Torrington had raised the subject, but she had made a good point. "Not that I took any interest in my wardrobe before. My mother has taken care of such things for me."
"Haven't got a mother, but I should think a man's got to learn how to fend for himself." Freddie sipped from his glass. "If taking a hand in choosing one's waistcoat isn't one of them, I'll be dashed."
"You will help me, then?" Sherwin had had no idea how much he needed the guidance of an older male. It was fortunate Freddie had come along.
"It's a male's prerogative, I should think." Freddie appeared set on the idea. "Don't have any brothers of my own, and you've lost yours recently. I'd be glad to lend a hand."
"I can't thank you enough, Freddie." Sherwin's chin lowered nearly to his chest. Even if his brothers were still alive, he wasn't sure he'd be experiencing such an outing with either of them.
"One thing, though." Freddie drained his glass and set it on the table. "You can't go on calling me Freddie. It's Brent from now on-best you remember that. We're not schoolboys anymore, Amhurst."
Right enough. Sherwin motioned to the door. "Let's be off then, Brent."
Goodness-it's Freddie!" Aunt Penny's voice carried from the marbled foyer of Worth House down the corridors and probably to the attics.
Tall, dark, and handsome, Frederick, Earl of Brent, had his father's wavy hair but the dark coloring of his mother, a trait shared with his sisters Augusta and Muriel.
"Freddie!" Muriel called out, and she ran down the corridor to her brother.
"Aunt Penny, Moo." He greeted each with an embrace and a kiss on their cheeks.
The Duke soon joined them and held his hand out to his son. "Good to see you, Frederick."
Freddie grasped his father's hand, and they shook-like two real men. Even though Muriel had grown since she'd last seen him, Freddie stood much taller, and he looked, somehow, much older. Perhaps it was the stubble of whiskers on his wide jaw or the set of his broad shoulders that made a difference. It certainly was wonderful to see him again.
"Please tell me you're staying here with us," Muriel implored.
"Of course I'll stay, unless there are any objections," he teased. "Then I can set up at Clarendon's."
"This isn't quite a family reunion, but with Gusta in Suffolk and Char-Char in Cornwall, it will have to do."
"May I offer you a drink?" The Duke gestured that his son follow him.
Muriel fairly dragged her brother behind their father toward the library.
"I barely recognized you, Moo," Freddie teased her. "Look at you, in an honest-to-goodness frock with lace and ruffles, your hair in curls-I can hardly believe it! You might even attract a man, done up like that." He laughed and grew serious when he took a closer look. "You're more than passable-I suppose, you're not an antidote-quite pretty, actually."
"You're such a man of the world," she groaned. "And it's Lady Muriel now, my lord."
"My lord, is it?" Freddie lifted her and spun her around and around, making her squeal in a most unladylike fashion and making her terribly dizzy besides. "You're mighty haughtydangerous with a bit of Town bronze."
His Grace poured into two glasses. "Moo, here, has even attended Almack's."
"You don't say!" Freddie gawked at her. "Why, you really have changed. No longer trying to alter hundreds of years of tradition at Eton? Have you left poor Headmaster Keate alone finally?"
Freddie knew very well that, without a formal education, she could not be admitted to a higher-education institution, whether or not it admitted females. Still, she would keep her matrimonial ruse even from her brother.
"Will you do me the favor of informing me which you plan to lay siege to, Cambridge or Oxford? And I'll make plans to attend the other."
Both Freddie and their father had a good laugh.
Muriel did not find that humorous in the least and made no effort to even pretend she was amused.
"Would you care for some Madeira?" The Duke offered his son a glass, which Freddie accepted. "Speaking of university ... what are your plans for university?"
Freddie took a deep drink and glanced at Muriel, masking another teasing smile. "I thought I might take a year off and make a Grand Tour before making that decision."
Grand Tour! She willed herself not to react. Because any volatile outburst to her brother's announcement would surely give her away as the determined bluestocking she was.
The Continent. Europe. Italy. Muriel could not believe it. Freddie was going to Rome.
"How nice for you," she commented, sounding most pleased at his good fortune. "You lucky, lucky, boy." Muriel squeezed his arm in a playful manner ... or perhaps not so playful. Then she pinched his cheeks.
"Watch it, there!" he cried out. "That hurts."
"Sorry." But she wasn't, really. "It's just that you're so very fortunate."
"Many in my position do the same." It was true that many young men traveled to Europe for firsthand exposure to foreign culture, architecture, and the arts.
"Yes, I know." Life was so unfair for girls.
"When do you plan to leave?" The Duke eased into the chair behind his desk.
"I thought I might remain in Town for Moo's Season," her brother replied. "Somehow I managed to miss Gusta's and Char-Char's altogether."
"They were completely uneventful," Muriel commented in a cool manner. "Both of them."
"My sisters are grown, and time is slipping by quickly." Fred
die had missed much since he'd been away at school.
"I thought that was apparent only to me." Their father, who wasn't all that old, sounded as if he were fast approaching his dotage.
Muriel's failed Season would not be a disappointment to her or to His Grace.
"I'd be delighted if you'd save me a waltz next time you're at Almack's." Freddie's request sounded heartfelt.
"Of course." Muriel smiled and dipped into a shallow curtsy. "I'd be delighted."
"I cannot believe how much you have changed. Now you are a real lady. It's funny, really." Freddie chuckled. "I remember a time when you couldn't stand the thought of dancing."
The footman heralded, "The Earl of Brent," at the ballroom doorway of Devonshire House that evening.
The announcement came as a shock to Muriel. She hadn't thought her brother had received an invitation to the Devonshires' ball-but here he was.
Freddie stepped through the double-door portal and glanced about the room. Once he spotted Muriel, there was no stopping his progress to share her company.
"What are you doing here?" She regarded her brother's slightly rumpled attire. He was wearing the very same clothes he'd worn that afternoon! "I'm quite certain you bespoke a dance at Almack's. I had no idea you were to attend tonight's ball."
Muriel had been busy looking for Lord Caldwell, who was to partner her for the next set. Across the room she spot ted Sherwin, making what she thought was a fairly inconspicuous attempt to capture her attention. Was it wrong of her to wish to communicate with him rather than stand up with Lord Caldwell or converse with her brother, who stood waiting at her side? She could not say exactly what had changed her opinion of him or when it had happened. But to Muriel, Sherwin now seemed the best choice of companion by far.
A Grand Deception Page 8