by Sandra Heath
The chef looked quickly at her. “Miss Lexham? Miss Caroline Lexham?”
She was surprised. “Why yes, monsieur. But how—” She broke off, glancing around as she realized that those at nearby tables had heard the chef say her name, and that that name was not unknown to them. She received many curious glances and people leaned together to whisper.
The chef smiled. “You see, you are already famous, mademoiselle. I think everyone in London knows of the amazing Lexham will.”
“Oh.” She colored, lowering her eyes.
Mr. Jordan was comforting. “Don’t look so uneasy, my dear, for the story was bound to get out, and will have circulated through every drawing room in Town by now.”
“I didn’t think anyone would hear of it.”
The lawyer chuckled. “My dear Miss Lexham, I doubt if a single person present at the reading of that will would have been able to keep his or her tongue still about what happened. Discretion was never a Lexham trait, you know.”
She smiled at that. “No, I begin to realize that.
Gaspard Duvall still stood at the table. “So, mademoiselle, you have today become an heiress, and you have also sampled French cooking for the first time. This must surely be a momentous day for you.”
“It is indeed, monsieur. I cannot with honesty say how I feel about my inheritance, but I can say that I found the cooking to be quite superlative.”
“To hear such praise from the lips of one so very beautiful is sweet indeed, mademoiselle,” replied the chef, obviously as pleased as he said he was. “And I am all the more delighted since I have been forced to labor in the bowels of the earth.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The kitchens, they are in the cellars. They are, therefore, odieuse et abominable.” He spoke with considerable feeling as he lapsed into his native tongue. “Such kitchens are not worthy of Duvall,” he went on, tossing an almost venomous glance at the unknowing Mr. Bassett, who stood nodding and smiling just out of earshot. “For they are small and dark, their ovens are old-fashioned, and there is no range at all! In Paris I had magnificent kitchens, large enough to serve twenty dining rooms, equipped to produce thirty-four soups and one hundred and twelve fish dishes on one carte alone! Here, everything is abominable!” With this, the little chef took his leave of them, moving on to the next table, where he was once again all smiles and charm.
For a little longer Caroline and Mr. Jordan remained at their table, but she was aware of still being the object of much curiosity now that her identity was known, and so at last she asked Mr. Jordan if they could leave. Without hesitation, he agreed, and a minute later they were being shown from the room by little Hercules, into whose upturned turban Mr. Jordan dropped a coin. In the entrance hall, the lawyer took his leave of her, arranging to call upon her at eleven the following morning, when they would drive to Lexham House so that she could see her inheritance.
No sooner had the lawyer departed, however, than the porter was opening the doors again to admit two returning guests, a young lady in delicate lilac muslin, and a tall, distinguished gentleman whom Caroline recognized immediately: Hal Seymour. Her heart almost stopped as she paused at the foot of the grand staircase, and again, as if he sensed her gaze upon him, he turned swiftly in her direction. Their eyes met, and for a moment he seemed surprised, but then he smiled at her. “Why, Miss Lexham,” he said, coming toward her. “What an unexpected pleasure this is.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips.
Chapter 9
“Good evening, Sir Henry,” she replied, wishing that she looked cool and collected, but knowing that a telltale color was flaming on her cheeks.
The young lady he was with now joined them. She was very attractive, with her fluffy dark hair and large, dancing green eyes, and she wore jewelry which was so costly that the precious stones winked and flashed at the slightest movement.
Hal turned to her. “Jennifer, allow me to introduce you to Miss Lexham.”
“The Miss Lexham?”
“Yes, indeed. Miss Lexham, my sister, Miss Seymour.”
Jennifer Seymour smiled, holding out a white-gloved hand. “I am so pleased to meet you, Miss Lexham, for as you will have gathered, I have heard all about you, both from my brother and from the rumors which have today been racing around Town.”
Caroline’s cheeks continued to burn. “I trust you have heard only good of me, Miss Seymour.”
“But of course, for how could there be anything bad about the damsel my brother rescued upon the king’s highway, and who has subsequently become Dominic Lexham’s bête noire.”
“Jennifer!” reproved her brother sternly. “It is not at all the thing to make one’s personal feelings about someone quite so obvious.”
“Well, I am being honest, Hal,” she replied firmly. “I do not like Dominic Lexham, and I haven’t ever since he locked me in that cupboard and left me there for five hours. He was a beastly little boy, and now he’s a beastly big boy. I’m glad Miss Lexham is to have that house, and I have no intention of pretending otherwise.”
Hal rolled his eyes at the ceiling, smiling. “You see, Miss Lexham? My sister has had a privileged upbringing, an expensive education at one of the very best academies for young ladies, and still she does not know how to conduct herself in public.”
“Don’t be a disagreeable bear, Hal,” went on his irrepressible sister, “for you know that I am only saying what you’ve said yourself on many an occasion. Dominic Lexham is in sore need of a salutary lesson and I trust that this one will be very salutary indeed. In fact, I hope with all my heart that Miss Lexham will be able to meet all those wretched conditions so that in six months’ time she will be the full and undisputed owner of Lexham House.”
She turned to Caroline then. “Since you will be in Town for some time, I do hope that we may become better acquainted, Miss Lexham, for from what Hal has said of you, I am sure that you and I could become firm friends.”
Caroline glanced quizzically at Hal, wondering what it was that he had said, but she had to shake her head at his sister. “I am afraid that I will not be staying in London more than another day or so.”
Jennifer looked shocked. “But that cannot be so! You will be living in Lexham House!”
Caroline lowered her eyes. “I do not think that that will be possible.”
“But—”
“Jennifer,” interposed her brother swiftly. “Do not presume to comment upon something of which you know little or nothing. I think you embarrass Miss Lexham with your rattle.”
Jennifer was immediately contrite. “Oh, forgive me, Miss Lexham, for I know that I speak too often and too thoughtlessly.”
Caroline smiled, liking her very much. “There is nothing to forgive, Miss Seymour, for no doubt if I had been in your place I would have said exactly the same thing.”
“I am very sorry that you will not be in Town for long, because I was indeed looking forward to furthering our acquaintance.” Her green eyes brightened suddenly. “But I have an idea! Miss Lexham, will you join us in our box at the Italian Opera House tonight? We are to see von Winter’s Il Ratto di Proserpina and the opera The Haunted Tower. It will be excellent fun, and you will be able to meet Lord Carstairs, who is to be my husband. Do say that you will join us.”
Caroline would dearly have liked to accept this kind invitation, but her turquoise gown had barely done service for the Oxenford’s dining room, it would not do at all for a venue as glittering as the Italian Opera House. “I would like to accept, Miss Seymour, but—”
“No buts,” cried Jennifer delightedly. “You shall join us!”
Hal instinctively knew Caroline’s dilemma, however, and for the second time he intervened discreetly on her behalf. “Jennifer, I think that Miss Lexham has a prior engagement.”
Jennifer’s face fell. “Oh, I did not think.”
Caroline was touched at such genuine disappointment, and she liked Hal’s lively sister too much to allow her to remain ignorant of the t
ruth. “Miss Seymour, Sir Henry is being very kind and considerate toward me, for he has perceived the true state of things. I cannot join you tonight because I have nothing even remotely suitable to wear, not because I have an engagement elsewhere. My baggage has unfortunately disappeared en route to London, and I confess that even had it arrived, my wardrobe would still not have contained a gown elegant enough for the Italian Opera House. Were it not for that, I would most warmly have accepted your generous invitation.”
Jennifer, initially crestfallen, now brightened again. “Oh, Miss Lexham, again you must forgive my lack of tact, for I am truly most thoughtless at times. But since you have been so very honest and forthright with me, perhaps I may be the same toward you. There is a very simple solution to the problem, a solution which I would be only too pleased to be of assistance with if you would let me. I believe that you and I are the same size, and up in my apartment there is an immense wardrobe of togs from which you could choose.”
Caroline did not quite know what to say. “Oh, but I couldn’t possibly,” was all she could think of.
“Why not?” inquired Jennifer, obviously seeing this as an admirable answer to the problem and dearly hoping to persuade Caroline to take it up.
Hal smiled, looking at Caroline. “For once, Miss Lexham, I believe that my sister has had an excellent idea, and I assure you that I would be delighted to have your company tonight, for you will save me from the ignominious role of gooseberry.”
Jennifer was indignant at this. “You, Hal Seymour, are being a bear again!”
He grinned, but then returned his attention to Caroline. “Please consider my sister’s plan, Miss Lexham, for I know that you will enjoy the opera house, and I would be pleased to be your escort.”
To be with him for the whole evening? To be escorted by him? Her pulse was racing as she looked helplessly from one to the other, but at last she capitulated. “I would love to join you. Thank you so much for your kindness.”
Jennifer was triumphant. “Oh, I’m so pleased! Come, we will repair to my rooms immediately and see what you would like to wear; it will have to be something very splendid indeed if it is to show off that beautiful necklace, of which I am already green with envy!”
In something of a daze, Caroline allowed the other to spirit her away up the staircase. The unbelievable had happened. She was going to the Italian Opera House, she was going to wear a costly and fashionable gown, and she was to be on the arm of one of England’s most handsome and fascinating men!
Jennifer’s apartment was very fine indeed, the rooms lofty and elegant, the furniture more classical than that in Caroline’s apartment. Fires crackled brightly in the hearths as Jennifer’s maid, Simpson, was brought hurrying up to assist her mistress. In the dressing room, the maid flung open the wardrobe doors to reveal a bewildering array of beautiful, extremely expensive, and fashionable garments.
Jennifer was almost apologetic. “I’m afraid that when my brother suddenly announced that we were coming here because our house was to be completely refurbished, I simply could not decide which togs to bring—so I brought absolutely everything.”
“That I can well believe,” murmured Caroline, running her fingertips in awe over the shimmering fabrics.
“I shall be wearing this apple-green silk,” said Jennifer, taking down a gown which was so soft and light that it seemed to slither over her hands.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” breathed Caroline. “And you will look quite perfect in it; it will go so well with your eyes.”
Jennifer was pleased. “That is what I am hoping, for tonight I mean to positively devastate my beloved Charles.”
“Charles?”
“Lord Carstairs.” Jennifer removed the glove from her left hand, revealing a betrothal ring of the most dazzling diamonds Caroline had ever seen. “I love him so much,” she murmured dreamily, gazing at the ring.
“When is the wedding to be?”
“On the evening of Friday, the twentieth of March, by special license here at the Oxenford, but it is simply ages away!”
“It’s only a month!”
“Which is a lifetime. It would have been earlier in March but for my brother’s odious and incomprehensible decision to move here. The house in Hanover Square is perfectly all right; it doesn’t need refurbishing. Still, I suppose that coming here does have its advantages, for by having my wedding in a hotel I will surely be starting a new vogue.”
“Soon all brides will wish to marry à la Seymour,” laughed Caroline.
“À la Carstairs, you mean! Oh, I shall positively float down that grand staircase in my silver tissue, a wreath of diamonds in my hair, followed by twelve bridesmaids, six in primrose and six in lilac. I shall glow with happiness. I know it is not considered the thing to adore one’s intended husband, but I love my dearest Charles with all my heart and believe myself to be the most fortunate of creatures for having won him.” Slowly her smile died away and her green eyes became less happy. “I only wish that a similar happiness lay ahead for my brother.”
Caroline received the distinct impression that Jennifer Seymour did not hold out much hope for the granting of this wish, and that this was because she did not like Marcia, Lady Chaddington, with whom her brother’s name was so firmly linked.
Jennifer smiled a little self-consciously. “I know I am foolish to worry so about him, for as he says, he is big enough and ugly enough to do as he sees fit.”
“I’m sure he is right.”
“I know. I can’t help it, though, for he seems set to choose the wrong bride, and what with that and all the danger he seems to involve himself in ...” She broke off, biting her lip, and it was obvious that she had been at the point of saying something she should not. She smiled again then. “Come, we must hurry and decide upon your togs for the opera house, for if we don’t hurry, we will be late.”
An hour later, with the final minutes ticking away to the moment they were to depart, they were both ready. Jennifer was attired in the apple-green silk, her hair got up in the style known as á la Rome. A golden fillet rested across her pale forehead and a trailing gauze scarf was pinned to the back of her hair, the ends draped elegantly over her bare arms. Emeralds shone at her throat, in her ears, and on the bracelet worn over her long white gloves. Her cashmere shawl put Caroline’s plain white one to shame, for it positively glowed with colorful embroidery, and its long silken fringe shivered as Simpson arranged it with great care over her mistress’s arms.
After much deliberation and consultation, Caroline had chosen, a high-waisted gown of the palest rose muslin, sprigged with tiny silver leaves, and as she looked at herself in the tall cheval glass, she had never dreamed that she would one day wear a gown so modish and beautiful. Its low, revealing neckline displayed her flawless skin and set off her grandmother’s silver and ruby necklace to perfection. Its hem was heavy with little pink satin bows, and similar bows adorned the long, diaphanous sleeves which were gathered in at the wrists, the resultant frills spilling over to hide most of her hands. Her toes, peeping from beneath the gown, were clad in white silk stockings and pink bottines tied on with ribbons. She gazed in wonderment at her reflection. Gone was the countrified cousin of the squire of Selford, and in her place was a fashionable lady, the Earl of Lexham’s cousin.
Jennifer smiled. “I vow that that necklace enhances the gown more than any I have. Goodness, is that the time? We will have to go down now. Oh, don’t forget the fan I gave you, for the opera house is always suffocatingly hot, even in the middle of February!”
Tweaking her shawl to make it hang more satisfactorily, she hurried to the door, which Simpson hastened to open. Jennifer laughed as she and Caroline walked along the passageway toward the staircase. “I do hope that tonight’s performance goes as well as last night’s was reported to have done.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have been informed that the rowdier elements in the gods so disliked the performance of The Haunted Tower that a positiv
e hail of missiles was rained down upon the stage!”
“At the opera house?” gasped Caroline, startled.
“Oh yes, it is quite usual,” replied Jennifer as they reached the head of the staircase. There she paused, gazing down. “Oh, I can just imagine sweeping elegantly down here in my wedding gown! Never will a bride have made a more impressive entrance!”
Hal was waiting in the entrance hall, looking very distinguished in his black velvet evening coat. The coat was very fitted and had ruffles at the cuffs, and he wore a complicated white cravat which looked very startling against the coat’s somber velvet. His white waistcoat was unbuttoned to reveal the frill of the shirt beneath, and his knee breeches sported handsome golden buckles. A sword swung at his side and a tricorn hat was tucked under his arm, two formal items of apparel which were de rigueur for gentlemen attending the opera house. He was donning white kid gloves as the two women approached, and he turned to greet them.
Jennifer put an apologetic hand upon his arm. “Are we very late, Hal?”
“Surprisingly enough,” he replied dryly, “you are not late at all, which for you, my dear sister, its little short of a miracle.”
“Don’t be facetious,” she retorted. “Besides, if I had been late, I would have had excellent excuse, for there was Miss Lexham’s apparel to decide upon.”
“So there was,” he remarked, allowing his glance to move slowly over Caroline, taking in every last detail of her appearance. His eyes met hers then and she saw in them that lazy warmth which almost bordered on the cynical, but did not quite. Had he said again those last words of their parting outside Mr. Jordan’s premises, they could not have hovered more audibly in the air in that moment. She was aware of a heightening color on her cheeks and a trembling in her breast which had no place at all in the makeup of a proper young lady and everything to do with the senses of a woman in the presence of a man to whom she was irresistibly attracted.
He smiled. “You look exquisite, Miss Lexham, but then I would expect that of you.”