by Dorothy Mack
Lady Tremayne widened her eyes at him. “Why, darling, how could I? I didn’t know you would be returning today. My card is filled, I’m afraid, but,” she added with a provocative flick of long lashes at one of the officers surrounding her, “Captain Count Levèque has written his name in for two waltzes. I am persuaded he will be gracious enough to turn one of them over to Colonel Creighton, will you not, Captain?”
The Belgian officer fingered the end of his dashing moustache and bowed. “Since you ask it, fair lady, I will, with extreme reluctance but a latent sense of justice, relinquish the pleasure of a waltz to your fiancé. But only one, mind!”
The earl gravely thanked the handsome dark-haired officer whose polite words were belied by the wicked white smile beneath the waxed moustache.
It was a long evening, made longer by frequent glimpses of Lady Tremayne that convinced Dominic his betrothed was not sharing his longing for a few moments of privacy. She whirled past him, laughing gaily up at her numerous partners. She was seen flirting with her fan in quiet corners between dances and sparkling in the centre of all-male groups. He wasn’t even permitted to take her in to supper, although it was his dubious privilege to be sitting near enough to witness the impartial scattering of her favours. He did his duty by a number of young ladies presented to him by Mrs. Hatherleigh, who tempered her gratitude at providing the wallflowers with such a personable partner with words of commiseration on his fiancée’s popularity. After a half-dozen duty dances, he escaped to the card room, where the time passed more agreeably among a congenial band of fellow officers. His own waltz with Pamela, which was scheduled near the end of the evening, did not turn out to be a period of unalloyed joy either.
“Alone at last!” he exclaimed theatrically, directing a warm smile at his beloved as he whirled her onto the floor. “I thought my turn would never come.”
“It has certainly turned into a hectic evening,” she agreed.
“Do you realize it has been almost five days since we last saw each other? I’ve missed you terribly.”
“Then why did you go?” inquired Lady Tremayne, her expression unsoftened by his warmth.
“Why did I go?” the earl repeated blankly, pulling back slightly to examine the flawless face raised to his. “Surely you do not imagine I had any choice in the matter?”
“Did you not?” Lady Tremayne managed a graceful shrug while being swept down the floor to the fast German music.
“Of course not! A day without seeing you is like a year!”
“Vastly prettily said, Dominic.” A faint smile appeared on Lady Tremayne’s lips, but Lord Creighton detected nothing in the steady amber gaze to dispel the cloud that her reception had cast over his homecoming.
“We can’t talk here. I’ll see you home later.”
“I came with Ralph,” Lady Tremayne demurred. “He expects to escort me home.”
“I’ve ordered my carriage. Tell your brother I’ll be taking you.”
Lady Tremayne hesitated, but a glance at her fiancé’s determined face decided the issue. “Very well … although… Wait! Should you not escort your cousin home?”
“My cousin? Adrienne? Adrienne isn’t here tonight.”
“Oh. I would have expected her to be included in all your social invitations now that she is launched, so to speak.” Lady Tremayne’s tones were casual.
“Adrienne has never met the Hatherleighs. She has very few acquaintances in Brussels as yet. Her social engagements will be limited while she is here.”
“I see.”
Since the music had been winding down during this exchange, the earl and Lady Tremayne were separated once more by a number of persons wishing to speak to one or the other, and did not meet again until he sought her out when his carriage was announced at the end of the ball.
The first part of the ride home was accomplished in complete silence. Lady Tremayne, glancing sideways at her companion’s rigid jaw, finally broke it to ask:
“Was your mission, whatever it was, successful?”
The earl turned a serious face to her. “Are you really interested?”
“Why, of course, darling, since it was important enough to take you away for days.”
He ignored her comment. “Pamela, I fell deeply in love with you months ago. Was I wrong in hoping my feelings were reciprocated? Are you regretting our betrothal?”
Surprise and consternation flashed across the perfect features and her mouth dropped open. “Of … of course not! How can you think it?”
“How can I not think it after this evening?” he countered, the gravity of his expression unaltered. “We have been apart for five days, but my return roused in you none of that sense of joy that lovers feel when reunited. In its place was either a real indifference or a determination to bring me to heel, neither of which sentiments is compatible with love.”
Lady Tremayne had had time to recover her startled wits during this lengthy speech. Now she caught her bottom lip with her teeth and slowly released it while the brightness of unshed tears glistened in her eyes. She laid a hand over his on his knee. “I’m sorry, Dominic. You are quite right; I was trying to force you around to my way of thinking and it was wrong of me. But indifference — never!”
The earl had been studying the lovely face intently during this confession, and now he gathered her swiftly into his embrace, ending all discussion. Her lips were warm and eager under his until, with a laughing sigh, he released her. “The carriage has stopped, my love. Pamela, you must know that I would do anything for you, give you anything you could ever desire, but the next few weeks could bring all sorts of trouble. I’d feel easier in my mind if you were safely out of Brussels entirely, except that I cannot bear to see you go.”
“Do you really believe Napoleon will attack?”
“The army has remained faithful to him. Our intelligence is often contradictory, but somewhere, sometime soon, he must act. There is no other course open to him. He cannot allow the allies time to join forces against him.”
“Oh, Dominic, I feel the uncertainty about the future makes it imperative that we seize what happiness we may!”
“No.”
The word was softly spoken, but Lady Tremayne recognized the finality and subsided in her arguments. She bade her fiancé a fond goodnight shortly thereafter, went into the house, and mounted the stairs. She wasn’t aware that the saloon door had opened until her brother’s voice arrested her step.
“You are looking very thoughtful. What plot are you hatching now?”
“I didn’t see you tonight, Ralph,” she said, her tones indifferent. “When did you get home?”
“A few minutes ago. I saw your worthy staff officer helping you on with your cloak and made myself scarce so as not to disturb love’s young dream.”
Lady Tremayne paid no more attention to this sarcasm than she had to his earlier remarks, except that her lips tightened. She’d have passed him and gone into her room without even the courtesy of a goodnight had he not laid a detaining hand on her arm.
“Did you succeed in patching up your differences?” he inquired with a straight look.
“Yes, but you were right. Dominic can’t be manipulated, at least not by me. He’s not that besotted,” she finished with a tinge of bitterness.
“Oh, he’s in love with you, Pamela, but he isn’t the man to be driven by a woman. It’s actually a mark in his favour, though damned inconvenient just at present,” said Sir Ralph dryly. A rueful light gleamed in the light brown eyes so like his sister’s. “I take it the only course left to us is to hope Bonaparte attacks soon and Creighton survives the battle.”
His sister tossed her head, a determined set to her mouth. “I don’t propose to stake my future solely on that chance. He is not the only fish in the sea.”
“What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer, Sir Ralph’s sharp features registered faint alarm. “I’m warning you, Pamela, you will lose Creighton if you make a play for other men!”
“H
e won’t know anything about it. Naturally I’ll be discreet. Was there ever the slightest breath of scandal while Tremayne was alive?”
“Do you mean to tell me you played Tremayne false?”
“Why the surprise? The man was more than thirty years older than I. You certainly couldn’t have thought it a love match. Have you forgotten that you and my father sold me to him? Why should I not get something out of the exchange?”
“I see,” said her brother slowly. “Then I must commend you on your accomplished performance as a devoted wife. I never knew Tremayne had cause for complaint in his bargain. He treated you like a queen, even to the extent of beggaring himself to pay for your extravagances.”
“The old lecher didn’t have anything to complain of,” she retorted caustically. “He made sure he got what he paid for.”
Sir Ralph’s thin nostrils flared as he regarded his beautiful sister with distaste. “I never before realized how very vulgar you are, Pamela. Spare me a recital of your sufferings in the marriage bed, I beg of you. The fact remains that Creighton is not a doddering old fool to have the wool pulled over his eyes. And he has a large number of friends who would be only too happy to whisper any scandal broth in his ears. You must be aware that you are not overly popular among the tabbies who rule society.”
“Pah, do you think I fear a pack of jealous women?”
“It is too dangerous, I tell you. You overestimate your powers, Pamela.”
“I think not,” riposted his sister, and this time she did brush past, leaving Sir Ralph standing in the hall glowering at the closed door to her bedchamber.
CHAPTER 12
“Good morning, cousin. May I say you look like a ray of sunshine today?”
Adrienne, again attired in her buttercup muslin, responded cheerfully to her cousin’s smiling gallantry and allowed him to seat her at the breakfast table. Luc, the only other person present, grunted a reply to her greeting before returning his eyes to his filled plate. Nothing was permitted to interfere with the daily replenishing of the growing boy’s strength, least of all meaningless social chatter.
Adrienne expressed the polite hope that Dominic had enjoyed his evening, upon which he felt obliged to regale her with a few details of the affair while she was being served from the platter of kippers presented by Moulton. She enjoyed his word sketch, though it did not escape her notice that he made no mention of his fiancée while describing the splendours of the Hatherleigh ball. The talk was desultory while all present did full justice to the chef’s offerings. Then Dominic, accepting a second cup of coffee, said, to surprise her:
“It is such a perfect morning. What do you say to a ride in the park, cousin? Have you a habit yet?”
Adrienne halted the cup she was raising to her lips and sent a hooded glance toward the smiling earl. “A habit? Do you mean a riding habit?” she asked.
“Of course.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have one,” she replied, tossing a quelling look at her brother, who had emitted a bark of laughter.
Dominic looked disappointed. “The trees are almost completely in leaf now; the chestnuts and the limes are especially lovely. Brussels is looking its best. You have scarcely left this house in weeks. It is time you were getting out and about. Will it be ready soon?”
“Will what be ready soon?”
“Your habit.”
This time Adrienne lowered her cup to the saucer, placing it exactly in the centre before she spoke. “Actually, Dominic, there is no point in owning a habit when one doesn’t ride.”
“You can’t ride a horse?”
“Or a donkey or a camel or an elephant or any other four-legged creature,” put in Luc, grinning wickedly.
Adrienne’s dimpled chin was significantly elevated as she levelled a blue-green gaze at her cousin. “That is one more item on my impressive list of non-accomplishments,” she said with a touch of defiance. “I never learned to ride.”
“Well, that’s not so terrible,” replied the earl soothingly. “We will have you riding in a week or two. I’ll arrange for lessons today.”
“If it is all the same to you, Dominic, I would just as lief not bother. There is so much to do in the house, what with Jean-Paul to care for and the dancing lessons, and we shan’t be here a great deal longer in any case. There is too little time.”
The earl frowned. “It will be weeks yet before Jean-Paul is able to travel. There is ample time to learn, unless you do not wish it for some reason?”
“Well, I … that is, riding habits are so expensive, after all. I mean…” She faltered, and Luc rushed into the breach.
“What Adrienne is trying not to admit, Cousin Dominic, is that she has never learned to ride because she is afraid of any animal larger than a lapdog.”
“That’s not true!” Adrienne denied hotly. “There never seemed to be a need to learn. We have always lived in town, after all.”
Dominic looked from the teasing gleam in the boy’s near-black eyes to his sister’s flushed cheeks, and a wave of pity washed over him. She had missed so much, this uncomplaining girl. He wanted to make it all up to her, to give her, in the few weeks remaining to him, all the things she had never had, but her pride was a formidable barrier. Aloud he said gently, “If you will allow me to teach you, Adrienne, I promise that you will quickly overcome any nervousness you may feel around horses. They are, unarguably, large, but horses have more placid natures than most of the lapdogs it has been my misfortune to encounter. Riding is a skill you will always be happy to possess.”
Adrienne still looked unconvinced, but before she could refuse outright, a distraction was created by the entrance into the breakfast parlour of Miss Beckworth, who smiled a general greeting to those assembled.
“Becky, Adrienne needs a riding habit,” announced Dominic, attempting a fait accompli.
“No, I don’t. I —”
“It will be ready this afternoon.” Miss Beckworth, in the process of pouring herself a cup of coffee, didn’t look up from her chore.
Adrienne was scandalized. “I didn’t order a habit!”
“No, I know you did not, but Dominic said you would need one, so I had Madame Henriette make one up in celestial-blue gabardine. I am persuaded you will find it quite to your taste.”
“Capital! Then we will merely postpone your first lesson until tomorrow.”
Dominic beamed impartially at Miss Beckworth, who was buttering toast fingers, and Adrienne, who appeared to be struggling to regain her powers of speech. He rose from the table to bring the discussion to a close, saying casually, “By the way, I thought you ladies might like to go to the opera tonight, so I have rented a box. Pamela and Sir Ralph will be coming, as well as Major Peters and General and Miss Forrester.”
Adrienne let out an undignified squeal, then clasped her hands together as if to keep her delight confined within the bounds of propriety. “Oh, Dominic, you wonderful, marvellous man! Becky, did you hear that? Oh, I vow I am so thrilled I could burst! Thank you, Dominic!”
“Seems to me you’re making an awful lot of fuss about a bunch of people in tights standing around on a stage screeching at each other,” said Luc dampeningly. “I wouldn’t regard that as a high treat!”
Dominic had been enjoying Adrienne’s uninhibited delight. Now he rested a thoughtful glance at his younger cousin. “When you have finished here, Luc, come into the study. There is something I wish to tell you.”
“I’m finished now.” Luc pushed back his chair and scurried to join his large cousin at the door.
The breakfast room was quiet for a few seconds after the masculine contingent had withdrawn. Miss Beckworth was going about the business of ingesting her food, and Adrienne was gazing raptly into space, still lost in a pleasant dream of anticipation, until the click of a cup on a saucer brought her back to the present.
“What shall I wear tonight, Becky?” she asked abruptly.
“The aquamarine will do nicely. It is really the only suitable gown until the o
thers arrive.”
“Others! What others?” Adrienne fairly shrieked.
Miss Beckworth winced. “Please, dearest, do moderate your tones, I beg. Remember, a soft voice is an excellent thing in a woman.”
“Becky, what have you done?” Adrienne’s voice had sunk to a hoarse whisper. “First a riding habit and now more dresses! How many more?”
“Only four, two for daytime wear and two for evening.”
“Only four? I don’t need four more dresses!”
“Yes you do. None of your old gowns are at all acceptable. You’ll also require gloves and sandals and hats to go with them, not to mention shifts and petticoats.” Miss Beckworth spoke matter-of-factly as she liberally added sugar to her second cup of coffee, but Adrienne moaned:
“Becky, how could you? I’ll never be able to look Lady Creighton in the eye. Perhaps the things can be returned or even cancelled if Madame Henriette has not yet begun them. I’ll get my bonnet and go to see her now and beg —”
“It’s too late for that. The dresses have already been cut and fitted to your pattern. The first walking dress will be arriving with your habit this afternoon.” As Adrienne continued to shake her head and wring her hands in distress, Miss Beckworth pushed back from the table and came around behind her charge, placing her hands comfortingly on her shoulders. “Please, dearest, there is not the slightest occasion to fly into a pelter. Lady Creighton knows all about the purchases; indeed, everything has been done to her order from the beginning. I was privileged to read the letter she sent Dominic in which she charged him with outfitting you in the first style of elegance.”
“It’s too much,” the girl protested wretchedly, slewing around in her chair to look at her companion. “How will I ever be able to repay her?”
“By allowing her the pleasure of doing something for the daughter of her favourite cousin. This means a lot to her, Adrienne, more than you can be expected to understand, but pray believe that Lady Creighton is sincerely looking forward to having you and the boys visit with her this summer.”