by J. D. Robb
Bettina slapped her hand with her gloves as she considered what to say. Neither of them sat down. Bettina was too upset and Harry too much of a gentleman, despite his skirts, to sit down if she did not.
“Osterman is a rogue of the worst kind,” Bettina began. Just saying the words renewed her anger.
“That is not news to me, nor should it be news to you. I told you about his habits.”
“But he insulted me. Or do I mean he insulted you?”
“Which is it, Bettina?”
“He insulted the countess.”
Harry’s expression hardened. Even framed by curls, his expression was neither friendly nor understanding. “Tell me what happened.”
Feeling as though she had been called before the magistrate and treated as if she were the criminal, Bettina recounted the conversation as best as she could recall it. As she came to her insult to Osterman and his half challenge, Bettina could see that Harry could no longer contain his alarm.
“My God! Be careful, or you will have one of us dead. Osterman was needling you. I never would have reacted that way, but you rose to the bait.”
“A needle is not bait, Harry. It is in no way tempting. A needle hurts just as an insult to your wife should offend you.”
“He did not insult the countess. At least that was not what he was trying to do. He was trying to find a way to pay you back for your insult of him. It was as much a dare as anything to proclaim the countess’s virtue to a man like him.”
“What should I have done?”
“Threatened him first, of course. Told him that you would meet him at Jackson’s and prove who was more the man with your fists where everyone could see.”
Bettina winced at the thought. She knew less about boxing than she did about guns. “Would we not be in the same situation?”
“No, neither one of you meant what you were saying. Not then. Not until your discussion became so heated that you spoke without thinking.”
“And you think women play games with each other!” Bettina threw the gloves onto the chair and ran her hands over her face. “What do I do now?”
Harry rubbed his hands together as if itching for a fist-fight. “I think you should pretend nothing happened and if pressed”—he paused and shook his head in disgust—“if Osterman presses you, then you must apologize.”
“Oh, Harry, no.” She could see how much the idea distressed him. “I’m so sorry. If it came to a duel, surely Osterman would not kill me. It’s against the law. Not to fight a duel, but to kill someone.”
“I have no idea what Osterman will do when he’s in a temper. We already know that his appetites often override his birth as a gentleman.”
There was a scratch at the door. One of the footmen had a message. “I beg your pardon, my lady, but Nurse wants to know if you are coming to see Lord Cameron or if she should begin his bedtime ritual?”
“Tell her—” Bettina began, taking two steps to the door before Harry interrupted her.
“I can speak for myself, my lord.” Harry’s warning reminded her who was playing whom. “Tell Nurse that I will be there shortly to say good night to my son.”
The footman left, and Harry shook his head. “See what happens when you are upset? Try to think, eat, breathe, and laugh the way I do.” He headed for the door and paused. “Bettina, where did you find Martha Stepp?”
“She applied through the agency we always use.” Bettina liked the girl, though she was younger than the usual nurse.
“Does she not act above her station?”
“Harry! Do not even consider dismissing her because she occasionally speaks out of turn. She is wonderful with Cameron. I worry sometimes that he is closer to her than he is to his mother.”
“Yes, she is good with the boy, but she acts as if she knows more than we do.”
Bettina could not help laughing. “She does know more about children, Harry. Almost anyone would.”
They parted. Bettina watched Harry hurry off and felt a pang that it would be too much of a curiosity if the earl joined the countess. By this time of day he usually was at his club.
Tonight they had agreed to meet at nine o’clock to set out for their second test of the day. Dinner with some political cronies. Thank God, neither Patricia Melton nor Osterman would be among the guests. Now, there was a couple who deserved each other.
Bettina settled in Harry’s favorite chair and looked through the Edinburgh Review, finding nothing that held her interest.
The papers yielded a few tidbits, and she thought she should make a point of checking them more often. Why hadn’t any of her friends told her that Lady Quinton was increasing or that Faith Grimlin had retired to the country, supposedly because her mother was failing?
Faith and her husband had been very tense around each other for almost the whole Season. Perhaps tonight she could find out if they had formally separated.
Or Harry could. She would be in the dining room with the other gentlemen while the ladies retired to the salon. She would have to remind Harry to pay close attention to the conversation and not act as though he was thinking about something else, as he did so often with her.
For her part, Bettina had always wondered what the gentlemen talked about. As she sat in front of the fire, her eyes closed, but not really resting, Bettina tried to concentrate on the pleasure of finally learning the answer to that question and not on how nervous she felt whenever she was not in Harry’s company, as if he could catch any mistake she made and help her rectify it.
Tonight would be a challenge. Lord Nicholas would be there. Try to think of him as Nick, she reminded herself. There would be twenty guests altogether, ten men who were as interested in politics as Harry was.
Bettina picked up the Edinburgh Review again. If she read one of the articles, then she would have something to talk about. She was positive Harry never lacked for conversation.
A scratch at the door distracted her from a fascinating piece on the life and times of the men of the Ninety-fifth Rifles. When she called out, “Enter,” in what she thought was a perfect imitation of Harry’s “why are you interrupting me” voice, Freeba stepped in.
Was Freeba wearing one of her old dresses? Most likely. Bettina only hoped that it had looked better on her before she passed it on to her maid.
“I beg your pardon, my lord, but the countess would like you to come settle a difference of opinion on fashion.”
“What?” Bettina had never ever asked for the earl’s help in such a trivial matter.
“I told you that all was not right with the countess. She is half dressed and will go no farther. She insists that she needs your help in this..”
What was Harry thinking? As Bettina remembered how many times she had used the half-dressed ploy as a way to seduce him, she almost laughed. Not likely, but that was the perfect way to convince Freeba that nothing was wrong with her mistress.
“Freeba, thank you.” Bettina stood up, adjusting her trousers to accommodate the awakening of the body. “I will stop in and see what the countess needs. Why do you not leave us alone until an hour before she needs to dress?”
With a smile inviting her collusion, Harry waited.
“Oh, yes, my lord, I see.” Freeba actually curtsied. “I will knock before I come back.”
“Tell the footman to bring us some champagne.”
“Yes, my lord.” She bobbed another curtsy and hurried off.
In keeping with the pretense, Bettina went to the earl’s suite and, with her valet’s help, changed from riding clothes into comfortable trousers, a loose shirt, and Harry’s favorite banyan overall.
Remembering to whistle the way Harry did, Bettina knocked on the connecting door and went into the countess’s bedchamber.
“Tell me, do you whistle to announce your arrival or because you anticipate a treat?” She had always wondered, along with marveling that his tutor had allowed such common behavior to become a habit.
Harry looked up from where he sat near the fir
e, dressed in Bettina’s favorite dressing gown. Why had she never noticed that the robe was threadbare, no good for anything more than the sickroom? Really, the moment their lives were back to normal, she was going to buy some new fabric.
“Oh, my banyan!” Harry stood up and slipped out of the dressing gown. “Trade with me. This thing of yours is not designed for warmth.”
“That is not what a woman is aiming for when she wears one.”
“If sex is why a woman wears this thing, why not just go naked? No confusion then.” Harry laughed as soon as he had the banyan around him. “This is the closest I’ve come to feeling like myself since we wished on the coin.”
Bettina took off the shirt and slipped into the old dressing gown. “How do you stand wearing a cravat? It’s like a rope around the neck.”
“How is it that you do not catch a chill on rainy days? I’m thinking that the dresses in fashion are designed for much warmer climates than England.”
“In the winter I wear a wool petticoat and wool stockings. It’s not so bad.” She raised a shoulder to shrug and heard a rip. “Oh, that’s much better. Now I can actually move my shoulders.”
“You’ve ruined it!” Harry announced.
“I am just imitating you. You abuse your clothes constantly. Besides, this robe is not even good enough to give to Freeba.” Bettina walked around the room, leaving the gown open. “Why did you send for me? You must know that Freeba is growing more suspicious by the minute.”
“I needed to know where you keep the key to the jewel chest, and I could hardly ask Freeba.”
Bettina nodded at the secretary. “In the topmost drawer.” At that moment there was a tap at the door, and it opened before either one of them could give permission. Kennet, the footman who had already been dismissed once this week, came in, followed by Freeba.
Bettina could easily imagine how absurd they looked. Harry might look coy in the earl’s banyan, but there was no doubt that she looked just plain stupid wearing a woman’s robe over her trousers. Now there would be rumors that the earl had lost all interest in women.
As if to confirm her worst fears, the sight of the earl and the countess in each other’s robes was more than Kennet could handle. He stopped short and dropped the tray he was carrying. Fortunately, the champagne was still corked, and the glasses merely rolled on the thick carpeting.
Freeba all but pushed him out the door and closed it behind her. “I’ll send up another bottle, my lord.”
“Do not bother.” Harry spoke in a tone that announced the mood was quite spoiled. “Tell Kennet that if he gossips, he will be fired and blacklisted in every agency in town.”
“Yes, my lady. Yes.” She backed out of the room, bowing and curtsying at the same time.
Seven
Once again Bettina waited for Harry. It seemed that Kennet had kept his experience to himself, since none of the servants were looking at the earl as though he was bound for hell for wearing women’s clothes.
When Harry finally came down the stairs, all Bettina could do was stare. He was wearing the Fellsborough diamonds, a string of twelve grand stones, each a treasure in their own right, one separated from the other by smaller diamonds. The glare fairly blinded those nearby. The necklace was too much for a quiet evening with friends. In fact, Bettina was hard-pressed to think of where she would wear it besides a coronation.
The dress, however, was perfect, though the style might emphasize the few pounds she had gained with Cameron. Was it time to find a new dressmaker?
When Harry reached her, they kissed each other on the cheek as they usually did, and he whispered, “These shoes already hurt.”
She looked down. “They’re new. Why are you wearing every single new item in my wardrobe? Though in this case I appreciate you wearing the shoes. They are not yet conformed to my feet. How generous of you to break them in for me.”
Harry answered with a groan.
“But, darling,” she said, raising her voice a little. “Don’t you recall telling me the fastening on that necklace is weak? I’ve been meaning to take it to the jewelers for you. Why not step into the salon and have Freeba bring down the pearls instead. They will look magical with the pale pink of the gown. And she could bring the pearl combs, too.”
“But I like the diamonds,” Harry said, as one of the footman hurried upstairs to find Freeba, and Bettina all but dragged Harry into the salon. “I want to wear them more often.”
Bettina closed the door before the footman could do it for them and faced her husband with her hands on her hips. “They are not the right jewels for this evening, Harry.”
“That’s it! I’ve had enough of this!” He reached back and unfastened the perfectly sound clasp and dropped the necklace on the near table. “How the hell am I supposed to know what jewelry is right for what occasion?”
Harry hit his forehead with his hand. “God! I cannot believe I asked that question. Before the damn wish I could have cared less. When this is over, I may well have to search for my manliness. It is being compromised more each moment.”
As long as your search does not go beyond our bedroom. Bettina kept the thought to herself. If he had not considered it, she did not want to put such ideas into his head.
Instead she went back to the topic under discussion. “When you dress, listen to Freeba. She would never have let you wear the diamonds.”
“Like you listened to Roberts? That waistcoat is ugly, and makes my skin look sallow.”
“It does not! Roberts and I both agreed that it should be worn more often.”
“Believe me when I tell you that Roberts is not the fashion expert Freeba is. Roberts keeps me organized and is a genius with the shaving blade and that is the only reason I keep him. He thinks Brummell is a fool with his ideal of dressing simply and prefers to hold the Regent as a model.”
Oh dear, Roberts was wrong on both counts. Bettina wondered if there was time for her to change into another waistcoat.
Harry whirled around the room, pacing the floor as the earl did when he was annoyed. He paused in front of the full-length glass.
“Harry,” Bettina began, looking at her dress in the glass. “Do you think that gown makes me look fat?”
“No more than that waistcoat makes me look sallow.”
“For all that’s good, that is no answer at all.”
“Yes,” he said with a withering smile. “I have learned the art of an answer that is not one in Parliament.”
The reminder that tomorrow she would have to take his seat in the House of Lords made her feel sick.
Before she could say anything more, there was a knock and they were both surprised when Martha Stepp came in, carrying little Lord Cameron. “I do beg your pardon, my lord and my lady, but the babe sat up for the first time and, my lady, you told me today that you wanted me to show the earl any significant changes as soon as they happened.”
“You did that?” Bettina looked at Harry, her eyes filling with tears. How sweet of him to know how much she would miss her time with Cameron.
“Well, yes, he is your son, too, my lord.” Harry emphasized the last two words, and Bettina nodded.
Darling Cameron performed for them with infant enthusiasm. Moving from his stomach, to his side and up onto his adorable, cloth-clad derriere. As a finale, he slapped his hands on his fat knees and laughed at his success. By the time Freeba arrived with the pearls, they were all marveling at the child’s genius.
“Thank you, Nurse,” Harry said. “The earl and I will come tomorrow to see a repeat performance. This is not to be missed. Clearly the boy is more dexterous than the average child. He will be a marvel in the boxing ring.”
“No son of mine is going to spend time boxing!” Bettina said with motherly outrage and then realized that she was not playing her role any more than Harry was. “I think his dexterity would be better developed fencing.”
Martha Stepp curtsied and left the room, leaving Harry and Bettina in complete silence.
&nb
sp; Bettina spoke first. “Do you think she suspects?”
“Suspects what? That I have left my manliness someplace?” He shook his head in disgust. “Without a doubt.”
“I’m sorry, Harry, but you are as much at fault as I am. What mother would say that she wants her son to box? You might have said he would look wonderful on the dance floor.”
“We have to find a way out of this, Bettina.” Harry sat down in the nearest chair, looking dispirited and unhappy. “I am not sure we will stay sane much longer. The housekeeper was shocked when I approved the chef’s menu without critique. Why do you pay the man so much to cook if you do not trust his menu choices?”
“Because the chef pays no attention to the cost of food. He thinks with the mind of an artist and is not practical at all. Someone has to rein him in.”
“I see.” He made a face that was all Harry’s, brow furrowed and mouth turned down. If he kept doing that, her face would be wrinkled before she was thirty. “Good for you, then, to take such care of our money.” Harry stared at the rug for a minute and then looked up again. “But what about the housekeeper’s calendar? She wanted to know when the maids could beat the rugs and when the silver could be polished. I really don’t care.”
“The housekeeper asks because I keep the calendar and know when we will be using the rooms and have need of the silver.”
“Isn’t the calendar the majordomo’s charge?”
“Usually, but I’ve found that the majordomo’s weakness is keeping the calendar. He is excellent with the staff but has confused more dates than is acceptable. So I meet weekly with your secretary, and we compare calendars and consider invitations, which to accept and which to decline.”
Harry stood and bowed to her, which looked very odd, considering he was wearing a pink silk gown and pearls.
“And I thought you spent all your time making calls and shopping. It seems to me that my countess has far greater responsibilities than I ever realized. I understand now that you are the reason this house runs so smoothly and our son is so content.”
As Harry spoke, there was a small flash of light. Like the glint off a coin. They both recognized it at once and arrowed across the room to the spot where the light had come from. And there it was. The coin. The cursed coin that had changed their lives.