by Carola Dunn
“You know,” she said faintly.
“That you are Prometheus?” He pulled up a chair. “Now I look back, it’s quite obvious the family friend was a fiction, but then, everything is always clear in hindsight.”
“It was Mama’s notion to ask for a Season in payment, not mine.”
“You would have refused me outright, would you not? To safeguard your secret. You are afraid of being sent to prison?”
“A little.” Pippa shuddered. “You know how easy it is to be condemned for sedition now that Habeas corpus is suspended. Have you read of the appalling conditions of women in Newgate Gaol?”
“No, as you might guess since I’d have tried to fit it into my speech,” he said ruefully.
Pippa managed to smile. “No doubt. I was less concerned about prison, though, than about not being taken seriously. Who will pay the least heed to my articles if they know them to be written by a woman?”
“I will!”
“You are kind to say so. However, you cannot persuade me you would have asked Prometheus to assist you if you had known then.”
Lord Selworth frowned. “You may be right,” he admitted. “So is it not fortunate that I remained in the dark until I had discovered your abilities for myself?”
“But now you will wish to find another mentor,” Pippa said sadly. “No gentleman wishes to take advice from a female, especially one younger than himself.”
“Come now, I am no Methuselah, Miss Lisle! And speaking of mythical figures—your wide acquaintance with Greek and Latin myth was one thing which gave you away—do you know who the original Mentor was?”
“Something to do with Odysseus.” She was a trifle impatient with the irrelevant question when her future was at stake. “Adviser to his wife and son, Penelope and Telemachus, was he not? A man.”
“Ah, but at some point in the story his place was taken by Athena in disguise. A female!” he said triumphantly.
“A goddess!”
His blue eyes gleamed. “If it weren’t the sort of flummery tossed about by honey-tongued coxcombs, I might call you a goddess. Be that as it may, I most certainly wish you to continue to play the part of Athena, Mentor, or Prometheus. All three if you will! Surely you cannot find it in your heart to abandon me in the middle of this thicket of half-pruned rose bushes?”
“If you truly wish me to continue, I shall.” Pippa sighed. “But once everyone finds out that I am Prometheus—”
“Everyone finds out? Why the dev...deuce should anyone find out?” Lord Selworth drew himself up and addressed her sternly. “Miss Lisle, do you mean to insinuate that I might give you away?”
“Not on purpose!”
“Then you must be confusing me with Millicent.”
“Oh no!” Relieved to see a twinkle in his eye, Pippa giggled. “Impossible.”
“I am delighted to hear it. I shan’t confide in her, believe me.”
“Nor anyone else.”
“Nor anyone else, I give you my word. Perhaps it will set your mind at ease if I give you a means of retaliation as well. I, too, have a secret I should hate to see bandied about the world.”
“Tell me,” Pippa breathed, burning with curiosity.
Lord Selworth turned rather pink. “You may recall I told your mama I worked to help support my family?”
“Yes, and you were so reticent about it I immediately assumed the worst. “
“Did you, indeed! Well, I don’t know what your worst is, and I don’t want to know, but it was nothing so very dreadful. I was neither pirate nor slaver, I assure you. The trouble is, public exposure would blight my political career, if not wither it entirely. Like you, I should not be taken seriously.”
“Exposure of your consulting me would very likely be as bad for you,” Pippa felt bound to point out. “I shall consider that surety enough, if you like. You need not tell me.”
“Generously spoken, when I can see you are all agog. I would not be so cruel.” Lord Selworth took a deep breath. “The fact of the matter is, I used to write quite successful Gothic romances. Like you, under a pseudonym.”
“Valentine Dred!” cried Pippa.
“How did you know?” he asked, startled.
“I recognized your style, turns of phrase, in your speech.”
“Oh lord, is it so evident?”
“I never dreamt you had written the books, only that you had read and enjoyed them.”
“Dare I hope you enjoyed them?”
Pippa was about to assure him she loved his books, when she recalled the ribaldry which went with the tongue-in-cheek adventures. Lord Selworth had written those bawdy tales? Shocked, her face aflame, she looked away—and saw her ankles exposed to his view. Swinging her limbs down from the sofa, she primly smoothed her apricot mull muslin skirt over her knees, her gaze fixed on her fingers.
“Sir, your books are not at all proper for young ladies to read.”
Lord Selworth roared with laughter, the wretch! “My dear girl, if you have read enough of them to recognize my style, you have no possible excuse for denouncing them.”
Bowing her head, Pippa wished she could sink through the floor. “I...I have read them all,” she confessed in a constricted voice, “and I like them very much. Not because of the...the improper bits, but because you seem not to take your characters and their exploits and misadventures very seriously. I hope I am not mistaken?” she asked, looking up as interest overcame embarrassment.
“No indeed. I’m glad you realized it. Not all my reviewers have been equally perceptive!” he told her wryly. “But you understand why I fear I shall not be taken any more seriously than I take my stories, if I’m discovered to be the author.”
“Yes. I suppose you will not write any more now? What a pity!”
“There is one more due to come out shortly, The Masked Marauder .”
“A splendid title,” Pippa exclaimed.
“Perhaps I ought to have stopped publication when my great-uncle died, but the bookseller pleaded with me to let it go forward. To tell the truth, having written the dashed thing, I should be sorry not to see it in print.”
“I can imagine. I feel much the same about my articles, and a novel is a far greater undertaking. How did you come to begin writing them?”
“I started by scribbling down the scary stories I used to tell Albinia, when she was still in the nursery.”
“Oh, that must be why she guessed.”
Lord Selworth looked stunned and alarmed. “Bina guessed?”
“So I believe. She told me she knew a secret of yours and had kept it so well even you were unaware that she knew. It is safe with her. She refused to tell me. Does no one else know?”
“The bookseller, of course, and Gil Chubb. Who knows about Prometheus?”
“Mr Cobbett, Mama, and Kitty. And now you.”
“Don’t faint again, I beg of you!”
“I cannot think how I came to do anything so tottyheaded,” Pippa said candidly. “It must have been because you took me by surprise. I am perfectly well now. Shall we go back to work?” She started to rise.
He put out a hand to stop her. “No, we have done enough for today.”
“Do you know yet when you will be able to speak?”
“No, but these last few days I have grown confident enough of having a speech worth giving to have a word with Lord Grey and Lord Holland. They promise to approach Lord Eldon in my behalf. The Chancellor is an intransigent Tory, however, who will be in no hurry to fit a Reformist speech into the agenda, far less one they suspect of being Radical. We have time enough.”
“Nonetheless, I should like to—”
“Not now,” he said commandingly, his gaze searching. “You must not overtire yourself with poring over my papers.”
“I am not tired,” Pippa protested. “We are already agreed that my complexion is naturally pale.”
Lord Selworth grinned. “Then let us put roses in your cheeks with a walk to Green Park, and on the way back I shall tre
at you to an ice at Gunter’s. Not a word of politics the entire time! Go and put on your bonnet—and wash that ink off your face!”
“Yes, my lord. At once, my lord,” Pippa said tartly, and whisked off to obey.
Changing into walking shoes, she donned her straw-coloured, plumed bonnet and the matching gros de Naples spencer which went with almost everything. Lord Selworth awaited her downstairs in the front hall. He turned from studying with disfavour a portrait of George Debenham’s great-grandparents.
“Deuced odd clothes people used to wear.” He regarded Pippa with a slight frown. “Will you be warm enough? The sun is shining, for a wonder, but there is a nippy breeze.”
“Do you have a dawdling stroll in mind? I had hoped for a brisk, warming walk.”
“How unfashionable!” he bantered. “And what a relief. Like Miss Kitty, I find a saunter far more tiring than a stride.”
They went out into Charles Street. Lord Selworth did not suggest taking a maid or footman—not that Pippa had any intention of doing so, but it went to show that he considered her past the age of needing a chaperon. Past the age of romance and marriage, she thought sadly, recalling the notably youthful heroines of his novels.
“Tell me about writing your books,” she said. “It must be quite different from writing a speech.”
“As I discovered, to my dismay!”
“Where do you begin? Do you plan the story beforehand, or just plunge in?”
Lord Selworth was delighted to be able to talk freely about his literary achievements, and scrupulous to avoid all mention of the naughty parts. He kept Pippa amused and fascinated all the way around Green Park and back to Berkley Square, where he turned towards Gunter’s.
“Should we not come back later with Millicent and Kitty?” Pippa suggested. “They would consider it a great treat.”
“As you do not?” he queried mournfully.
“Of course I do!”
“I shall bring them some other time. This is our morning. My heart is set upon a raspberry cream ice, and you shall order whatever elaborate and expensive concoction you please to compensate for the shock I gave you earlier.”
“I had forgotten it.”
“Then I beg your pardon for reminding you.”
“Unnecessary, since you offer amends. Tell me,” she teased, “in other circumstances would you balk at standing the nonsense for whatever elaborate and expensive confection I might choose?”
“To say no were ungallant, yet to say yes is to court bankruptcy, at Gunter’s prices! Besides which, I should have to do the same for your sister and mine.”
Pippa laughed. “Then this would be no special treat. However, a raspberry cream ice sounds perfect to me.”
The ices, served with crisp wafers, were delicious. Lord Selworth insisted on ordering a pot of tea as well. Pippa accepted graciously, though her thrifty soul cavilled at the extra expense when they were scarce two minutes walk from the Debenhams’ house.
Returning to the house, they found the others wondering where Pippa had disappeared to.
“Not that I was upon the fret, my love,” said Mrs Lisle, drawing Pippa aside, “but I wish you will leave a note or inform one of the staff if you go out unexpectedly.”
“I am sorry, Mama. I did not think.”
“And you ought to take Nan or one of the footmen.”
“I know I must not go out alone in London. I was with Lord Selworth.”
Mrs Lisle glanced at the other end of the drawing room, where the viscount was teasing the girls with a panegyrical description of Gunter’s ices. “The more reason for taking a servant.”
“Lord Selworth behaved with perfect propriety.”
“I should expect nothing less of him, but propriety is in the eye of the beholder. I know you believe yourself too old to need a chaperon, dearest, but that is utter nonsense. Anyone seeing you escorted only by a personable young man would have good reason to be shocked.”
“I shall not do it again, Mama,” Pippa promised. He was most unlikely ever to invite her again. “I fear I had had something of a shock myself and was not thinking straight.” Looking to make sure Millicent was still beyond earshot, she continued softly, “He has guessed.”
“That you are Prometheus? Oh, my love, what a horrid shock indeed! Perhaps I was wrong to propose this masquerade...yet you are still on friendly terms with Lord Selworth. Never say he is willing to accept assistance from a female?”
“So he claims, though he may yet change his mind. Maybe he said so only to comfort me, and he will find some excuse to cry off. He has scarcely had time enough to consider the possible consequences.”
“There need be none if he can hold his tongue,” Mrs Lisle pointed out, “and if you are more careful. You left his papers out on the desk.”
“Oh no, did I? My mind was more disordered than I had supposed.”
“And his, too. I put the speech in the drawer, but you have the key. You had best lock it before luncheon.”
“I shall go up at once. Did Millicent see it?”
“Saw, but did not read. She made some comment about how you are forever scribbling. Do take care, my love.”
“I shall, Mama.”
Pippa kissed her mother’s cheek and ran upstairs to lock the drawer and put off her bonnet.
Sitting at the dressing table to tidy her hair, she stared at herself in the looking-glass. He had said he liked her hair, unrelentingly straight as it was. He said she looked distinguished, elegant, intelligent. That was before he guessed she was Prometheus. When had he called her “my dear girl,” before or after? Her head had been in such a whirl, she could not remember.
It must have been before. Though the phrase had no great significance, a gentleman surely would not use it to one he had accepted as his mentor. She would always be Athena to him now, never Aphrodite.
Not that she had ever dreamt of aspiring to the beauty of the Goddess of Love, she thought with a sigh, regarding her cheeks, still pale despite the brisk walk. It was definitely after she fainted that he had compared her to a wilted lily, an unstarched neckcloth, a rice pudding! Admittedly Lord Selworth was given to exotic metaphor, yet surely even he would not so disparage a lady in whom he had the least romantic interest.
Still, he had described her usual paleness as pearly, Pippa recalled, a little cheered.
More important, he respected her intelligence and had not promptly refused her continued help, as she had feared. And she still had his friendship. Their walk and the visit to Gunter’s testified to that.
She had much to be thankful for. Doing her best to persuade herself she was satisfied, Pippa went down to luncheon.
* * * *
“You will be quite the prettiest girl at Almack’s, I vow,” said Pippa, fastening the last hooks in her sister’s gown. “Turn around now and let me look.”
Kitty twirled and curtsied, the primrose satin slip and silver Urling’s net overdress swirling about her ankles. “I am in a dreadful quake,” she said with no visible diminution in her usual placidity. “Suppose I say something shockingly bucolic and give the Patronesses a disgust of me?”
“Anything you say, Mr Chubb will turn off as wit or wisdom. Keep him at your side whenever you are not dancing. It should not prove difficult.”
“He is a dear, is he not? I cannot think why he is so speechless in general, for he always has plenty to say to me. Not nonsensical compliments, either, but sensible talk about things which matter.”
“Do you favour him, Kitty? He would be an excellent parti.”
“Oh, I don’t mean to favour anyone for ages yet. I am enjoying myself far too much. To tell the truth,” she admitted, laughing, “I find the nonsensical compliments most agreeable!”
“I am not at all surprised. What girl would not delight in collecting such a court of admiring beaux as you have?”
Kitty flung her arms about her sister. “It is all thanks to you, darling Pippa.”
“Not to mention Mama! Careful, d
o not crush your gown, dearest. You must have noticed how I profit by your court. As soon as your admirers notice that we are on excellent terms, they spare no effort to stay in my good books. I do not expect to sit out a single dance tonight.”
“Of course not, but it is nothing to do with their admiring me, goosecap. Come, let me help you put on your dress.”
Pippa’s gown for the all-important assembly was of emerald crape, scalloped to expose a sarcenet slip the pale green of new leaves, the same colour as the brief bodice. The hems of over- and under-skirts were ornamented with silk vine leaves in the contrasting shade. Bina had wanted to lend her emeralds to go with it, but Pippa regretfully refused—clothes were one thing, jewelry another. She wore her gold locket with a twist of Papa’s hair, the twin of Kitty’s.
Going downstairs, Pippa wished Lord Selworth was to dine with them. He had been bidden to dinner at Holland House, an invitation he could not refuse, for Lady Holland was one of the two great Whig hostesses of the day and her husband a leader of the party.
Lord Selworth had promised to meet the Debenhams and Lisles at Almack’s. However, Holland House was a few miles out of town, in Kensington. If he were to become involved in political discussions, he could very well arrive too late in King Street.
The Lady Patronesses were as adamant about closing the doors at eleven o’clock as they were about gentleman having to wear knee breeches.
Though Pippa had gained vastly in confidence since the first ball of the Season, Lord Selworth’s presence was a prop on which she had come to depend. She did not want to face the most select circles of the Ton without him nearby.
Chapter 13
“Five to eleven,” Bina muttered in Pippa’s ear as the figures of a country dance brought them together. “I shall give him a fine trimming if he misses Millie’s first appearance at Almack’s.”
“She is doing very well without him,” Pippa defended the viscount, glancing over at Millicent, who was chattering away to her partner while they danced up the next set.
“It is a matter of principle. It is his duty to support his sister,” Bina insisted, pronouncing the last word over her shoulder as she tripped away to meet her partner.