by Julia Donner
“But I shall do it better!”
“You’ll no doubt tell me how you’ll accomplish this formidable undertaking.”
“With an evening of entertainment. The one previously mentioned, on Tuesday. Everyone else is staging elaborate balls, fetes champetres, picnics on boats trailing sickeningly down the Thames, when all that is needed is a simple gathering. With the proper ingredients.”
“Ah, I begin to see. Cassandra’s social disgrace. Everyone will want to come and sneer at her misfortune. I will not allow it, Lindy.”
“Jane, you haven’t comprehended the simplicity of my scheme! Your niece will have nothing to do with it. Initially. And you refine too much on an on dit that is so old it’s surely forgotten. The flame that will draw the pretty moths is the Four Eligibles.”
Her aunt’s eyebrows lifted. “Now you do fascinate me! How do you propose to gather that rackety quartette under one roof? Well, one couldn’t designate Asterly as such. More of the opposite.”
“Boys will be boys, and Rave is the master of the pack. They’ll do whatever he says.”
“Why is that, Lindy? I’ve always wondered. Because he’s older?”
“They’ve followed him since Eton. According to Sir Harry, Rave is their nonpareil. I believe he took them under his wing so they wouldn’t have to suffer fagging from the older boys. The conditions are dreadful at Eton, or so my son says. He tells the wildest tales when he comes home for holidays. He said all the boys are locked up in the dormitory every night and fed greasy mutton gravy and potatoes for every meal. How very extraordinary! Do you think Edgar is telling the truth?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Lady Duncan replied, “having no son of my own. I must congratulate you, Lindy. Your expertise must be formidable if you can inspire such servitude from a man like Ravenswold after so long a time. Or is it a continuing service he renders?”
This time, she didn’t bother to stifle her delighted squeal of glee. “Prying odious information out of me, are you, Jane? I shall tell you exactly how and why! Rave and I have been as brother and sister since childhood. I almost felt incestuous the last time, and no, the association hasn’t continued on so primitive a level. We’re merely friends now. Brother and sister once again. I believe that his mother’s death and his sister’s marriage to Sir Castor left him somewhat at a loss for familial company. He’s very fond of Augusta.”
“Ravenswold has ever held strong attachments to his family, most especially his mother. I expect he still grieves her passing.”
“Do you know, Jane, he confided the most peculiar admission to me. He said that he prefers the company of women over that of men.”
“Even as a child Ravenswold was maternal in his dealings with those he held in affection, although, he would never admit it, I’m sure. My husband is of the same persuasion, and he has proved an excellent spouse because of that nurturing instinct so rarely found in males. Very well, I congratulate you, Lindy.”
“Then you’ll come to my soirée?”
“You knew we would before you came,” Lady Duncan conceded. Cassandra started to protest, but her aunt cut her off with a glare. “No talking, Cassandra.”
“Then I look forward to seeing you, Jane, and the results of our efforts. I believe that I shall surprise Rave with your niece. That way, it will appear entirely spontaneous. So delightfully diverting to observe, don’t you think? We’re sharing a secret, Jane. Can you keep it?”
Lady Duncan forced a thin smile. “With effort.”
“Ring the bell, Jane. I deserve a last, delicious look at your remarkable butler. Is he quite happily situated with you?”
“Very. And his wife is my housekeeper.”
Lady Wethermore pouted. “How very disobliging.”
“Do not toy with the men of Scotland, Lindy. Nor the women. They’re proud and ticklish about their honor. And they have no love for the English, since Culloden.”
“I didn’t intend to resort to fisticuffs, Jane dear.”
“He might, if offended. You’ll get nowhere with him.”
“It is indeed distressing to be thought of as so insignificant by one’s friends. La, but I must be about my business. Ah, here is your man to show me out. How vastly kind of you, MacWhitter! Until Tuesday, Jane. Good morning, Miss Seyton.”
Lady Duncan halted MacWhitter at the door by raising an eyebrow and one, imperious finger. He bowed to excuse himself from the visitor and closed the door, allowing the lady to cool her heels and other anatomical parts in the passageway.
When MacWhitter returned to Lady Duncan’s side, she crooked a finger, beckoning him closer. Lady Duncan leaned slightly to whisper, “Beware, MacWhitter. She bites.”
With a twitch of his lips, MacWhitter straightened up. “I thought as much, your ladyship, but permit me to say that Mrs. MacWhitter bites better.”
Lady Duncan choked on a laugh, unable to hold her face expressionless. He sent a wink Cassandra’s way, which lifted her spirits and bolstered her courage for the coming argument with her aunt.
Lady Duncan smiled fondly at MacWhitter’s straight, broad back as he left. She sat contemplatively stirring her cold beverage until he returned to stand behind her aunt’s chair.
Cassandra didn’t want to speculate on her aunt’s thoughts. She went to the sideboard, lifted lids on the covered dishes and discovered her appetite ruined from Lady Wethermore’s visit. She retook her seat at the table and readied herself for her aunt’s next move.
“We must have something made up for the soirée on Tuesday. Quite charming of Lindy to extend the invitation in person.”
“You may attend, but you’ll drag me as a corpse all the way. I’ll not go and be sneered at by everyone.”
“Your estimation of your own importance is to be pitied. Lindy said no one remembers nor cares about the Beason fiasco.”
“I won’t go,” Cassandra reiterated, her tone cool and disinterested.
“Oh, you will. This is one time when you won’t flout me, child. MacWhitter, excuse us, if you please.”
Cassandra watched the green baize door swing shut. “And how do you propose to force me, Aunt Jane?”
“I shan’t need to resort to force. I’ll make a bargain with you. I shall have one gown made up, and one only. This you will wear on Tuesday evening. In exchange, I’ll not ask you to attend another function for the duration of our stay in town. Nor will you have to accompany me to Honoria Bagdely’s daughter’s presentation. Does that suit you?”
“It doesn’t, mainly because I hadn’t planned on attending any functions with you nor going into Society at all.”
Cassandra watched her aunt’s small eyes narrow and large jaws lock. Lady Duncan slowly set down her spoon, straightened in her chair and turned the blast of her formidable ire into a direct assault.
“This is where your reign of obstinacy ends, my girl. I’ve stood by and allowed you to manipulate my husband, myself, and my household staff for the last time. I am entirely out of patience with you, Cassandra! You will go on Tuesday evening. You will wear the gown, and I will hear no more of your impertinence!”
Cassandra opened her mouth to speak and then clamped it shut. She’d never seen her aunt this angry.
“You are wise to remain silent. I ask you, gel, who has fed you and housed you? Who has attempted to find you a proper husband? Who provided the dowry your parents squandered, paid for your education and has always had your best interests at heart? I will tell you, you tiresome child! I have! My husband has! We have loved you and cared for you and made you our own, and we’ve received a proper comeuppance for our precious regard!”
Cassandra attempted to defend herself, but Lady Duncan cut her off. “You will be silent and listen! You are indigent, Cassandra. You have nowhere else to go. The money from Beason paid for only a portion of your parents’ last days of appalling extravagance before they fled. I pay for your maid out of my own pin money, when I could have sent her off without a reference. I could have cut all connection wi
th a selfish sister, who has ever been a source of shame and ridicule. I’ve been exceedingly kind to you—an ungrateful, disrespectful and belligerent relative, who has not once been thoughtful enough to show her appreciation, either to myself or to my husband. You will go to the Wethermore soirée, and you will wear the gown. Do you comprehend me, Cassandra?”
For a few stunned moments, Cassandra said nothing, primarily because she had nothing with which to combat the truth. She dropped her gaze to her hands on her lap, so tightly clasped the knuckles showed white.
Shame congested her throat. “You are right in every respect; Aunt Jane. I’ve not been grateful enough. I’m often ill-mannered and haven’t expressed how much I truly appreciate all that you and Uncle Duncan have done for me and Tessa. You’ve given more to me in affection and attention than I’ve ever gotten from my parents, who are irresponsible, selfish and largely absent. Worse, I was willing to give myself to a thoroughly unworthy and unsuitable man so they might continue—”
When Cassandra broke off to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from crying, her aunt looked away from the pain her truths had wrought. “I’m sorry to have been pushed to speak to you thusly, Cassy, but enormous persuasion was required. You have a highly refined sense of duty. I ask you to honor it.”
Cassandra jerked a nod and worked to manage her feelings. Her aunt provided additional time by saying, “Although it’s never been openly expressed, Lord Duncan and I know how fond you are of us. More than anything else, we are determined to see you properly wed and happy. Everything he has is entailed. The inheritance set aside for you had to be used for your parents. We must be assured of your welfare after we are gone. Cassy, you have no other choice in this.”
“I will go on Tuesday,” Cassandra hoarsely murmured.
“Well done, child. And if you should deign to accept some gentleman’s regard, that will please your uncle no end. You know how he is. As long as his dreaded temper isn’t aroused, he’s docile, and ever a doting slave to our every want and need. Do you know, I suspect Ravenswold is much the same. His mother once told me he has a temper that is rarely seen, but I have observed that volatile passions can be a fortunate thing in a marriage.” Her aunt smiled, “I can vouch for this from personal experience.”
Cassandra kept her lowered gaze on the coffee cooling in her cup and thought, but Uncle Dunky doesn’t fall prey to the wiles of married women.
For the first time in her life, she wished she’d paid more attention at seminary. Her aunt’s tirade clarified the fact that by temperament and education, she possessed nothing but her beauty as an asset. She knew a great deal about horses but had grown too tall for a jockey and too pretty to pass as a man.
Perhaps she could find a husband easier to manage—someone not as intimidating as Ravenswold—someone whose reaction wouldn’t devastate her when she confessed.
Chapter 13
Rave inhaled a deep breath of humid, evening air to clear his head. A refreshing breeze glided across the ballroom’s balcony where he and his friends escaped to savor a smoke and conversation. Women invariably wore too much perfume. He filled his lungs with the natural scents of the nearby garden’s summer blooms. He retreated into the shadow of Lindy’s London townhouse, grateful that her soirée was blessed with perfect weather, which made it easier to hide outside for a portion of the evening.
Rave knew himself to be the most elusive of the group. The other three were infrequently seen about town when they weren’t visiting their estates or into various kinds of mischief. On the way to and from the country houses, they often stopped at Ravencourt to hunt, shoot and argue.
A few steps away, Rave’s closest friend, Captain Peregrine Lord Asterly squabbled with his twin brother, Sir Harry, who never divulged the discreet service to His Royal Highness that earned him a knighthood. The Honorable Alfred Bates, also known as Bantam Bates or Arm-Winger Freddy, rounded out the quartette, and he joined the bickering.
Rave shifted his gaze to the moon’s reflection wavering on the surface of the ornamental pool, relieved to have found an excuse to escape the assembly indoors by herding his friends outside. He needed some fresh air and they required an interlude of competitive masculine quibbling before returning to the matchmaking mamas and hopeful adoration of the younger females. Muted sounds of an energetic reel and merry chatter seeped through the closed French doors. The beveled glass in the diamond-shaped panes rattled from the pounding of expensively shod feet.
The Honorable Freddy removed his gloves. “Demmed fine evening, is it not?”
Rave watched him tuck the gloves in a pocket. He accepted a thin cigarillo from Asterly then reached for the lamp set out for the convenience of gentlemen who wished to step outside to blow a cloud.
Sir Harry lifted a goblet of Madeira for a noisy, appreciative sniff. He sampled it with a delicate sip. Batting his thick blond lashes, he contemplated the wine’s color in the lamplight and lisped, “Thplendid madeiwa Thur Hubrwet thuveth up, what?”
Asterly choked on smoke. “Good Lord above, Harry, cut line! I do wish you’d leave off with that insupportable affectation. That idiotic lisp is driving me to the depths!”
“Rwee-ahwee, Peh-ahwee?” Sir Harry exaggerated, even more pleased when Freddy Bates inserted his opinion by making a rude noise.
His contempt evident, Asterly sneered at his twin. “One would think you’d eventually tire of making a cake of yourself with that fop act…but oh, no, not you!”
When Sir Harry attempted to acquit himself with a simpering giggle, Asterly clenched his teeth and fists. “You’re a disgrace to the family, Harry. I ought to take you out into the garden and smash some sense into you.”
Sir Harry cringed in pretended terror. “Oh, help, help me, someone! My bwudder is going to thwash me!”
Freddy barked a raucous laugh. He leaned an elbow on the balustrade and said to Asterly, “Perry, why do you always insist on rising to his bait?” Freddy turned away from the arguing twins. “What say you, Rave? Will you meet this feeble-minded fribble and put poor Peh-ahwee and me out of our misery?”
Rave contemplated the glowing red tip of the cigarillo he raised to his lips. Asterly was right. The tobacco tasted milder than the sort that came from the Colonies.
He’d stayed silent throughout his friends’ quibbling, more concerned with his own thoughts and not paying attention to the competitive banter and betting that went on when they got together.
“What did you say, Freddy?”
“Come out of the gloom, dear fellow, and be so obliging as to settle this matter for us.”
Rave stepped into the mellow light falling through the French doors. Opponents made the mistake of assuming his unhurried manner of movement was due to awkwardness from his height and bulk. In part, this was true. Rave expended a great deal of attention on moving carefully in a world made for smaller people. He’d never been clumsy or lumbering, even as a teenager, merely slow and cautious. If smaller men were stupid enough to push him to the point of provoking a fight, he believed they deserved whatever they got.
Although Rave appeared relaxed, he was never at ease in evening dress. He preferred buckskins and top boots and felt only at peace when rusticating. “What’s the issue this time?”
Freddy Bates welcomed him into the circle with a suave grin and bow. “Rave, if you’d kindly oblige us with a favor? Perry and I should like you to dispense with Harry. We’ve agreed to take exception to his fake Holland House lisp. Knock him down. Better still, put a hole in his liver.”
Rave smiled and made a tsking noise. “At each other’s throats again? Perhaps I’d better be done with all of you, excepting perhaps Peregrine. He’s the only one of us with any delicacy of feeling.”
Freddy abruptly discarded his lazy pose of a town beau afflicted with terminal ennui. He chortled and rubbed his palms together in gruesome anticipation. “A challenge! I knew I could count on you, Rave! What say you, Harry? Shall we have at him together or let him spill our blood one
at a time?”
Sir Harry shivered dramatically and pressed a lacy handkerchief to his rouged and powdered cheek. “I’faith, I am not fool enough to assault the mountainous Ravenswold! He would insist on those messy pistols, no doubt.”
Rave inclined his head. “Your servant.”
Harry rapped Rave’s wrist with a jewel-studded fan. “Dearest friend and mentor, ‘tis unwise to even consider pistols. There is so much of you to use as target! And I should rather have you at a distance. A very great distance. And no blades, please. Fencing, as you know, is performed in close proximity and so violently strenuous. It quite takes my breath away to even think of it! No, my overlarge, lovely friend, I fear I shall not be able to accommodate you.”
Freddy muttered a crude comment. Asterly grimaced and huffed a disgusted sigh. “You must do something with this fop, Rave. Shake him, or knock him down, as Freddy suggested. Perhaps a rap on the head would force some sense to the surface.”
“Try seducing one of his mistresses,” Freddy murmured, then chortled when the simpering smile faded from Sir Harry’s gorgeous face. At the mention of tampering with one of his ladyloves, Sir Harry took a threatening step forward.
Rave silently laughed at Sir Harry’s telling response. No one had ever been fooled by Handsome Harry’s effeminate affectations, least of all the husbands he cuckolded. When he didn’t have a mistress or two under his protection, Harry cavorted with experienced, fair-haired society matrons in the event a pregnancy occurred. Lindy’s dull-witted, black-haired husband never connected his blond son with Harry’s famous golden curls.
Rave dismissed the antics of his friends with a shake of his head. He tossed his cigarillo over the railing into the ornamental pool where it startled a squawk from a dozing swan. “Come along, lads. We had better get our eligible selves back inside before Lindy has my guts for garters. I made her a promise and mean to keep it.”