Scandal

by Heather Cullman

  "My word, Cuthbert! I must say that you look in prime twig today. I take it that the camphor liniment you have been using has helped your rheumatism?" he said, giving the servant a light but jovial clap on his stooped shoulder.

  The majordomo's welcoming smile widened into a toothy grin. "Indeed it has, sir. Indeed it has. Why, I feel in such plump current that one would think I was sixty again." He cackled at his own witticism, a dry, airless rasp reminiscent of footfalls on parched autumn leaves.

  Gideon, too, chuckled. "Excellent! I must say that that is quite the best news I have had all week."

  "Yes? Well, I am sorry to say that I cannot improve upon that by telling you that Lady Julia is alone. She is presently entertaining five callers, among whom, I regret to report, is Lord Wolton." Cuthbert's age-rumpled face took on a decidedly pained expression as he conveyed that last bit of information.

  Like Gideon, the majordomo harbored a less-than-charitable opinion of the foppish, ill-mannered Lord Wolton, whose general policy on servants was to treat them as rudely as possible and remind them of their inferiority at every turn. It was a policy he had attempted to extend to Gideon the first time he had called at the Barham residence, one he had abandoned quickly enough when treated to a sample of Gideon's own policy on dealing with bumptious nincompoops. Thus as Cuthbert announced him to the group gathered in the Peacock drawing room, a name that Gideon had concluded referred to its vivid blue-green walls since there were no peacocks or their feathers in evidence, Lord Wolton was forced to limit his demonstration of disapproving superiority to sniffing and looking away in a direct cut.

  Ignoring him, Gideon bowed first to Lady Aurelia, who always served as chaperon during afternoon calls and whose charming manner he privately thought Lady Julia would do well to emulate, and then to Lady Julia herself.

  Lady Aurelia smiled graciously, setting aside her ever-present needlework to offer him her hand. "Why, Mr. Harwood! How very kind of you to call," she said, her rich voice warm with sincerity and her beautiful face a study of cordiality. "It is always a pleasure to welcome you to our home."

  "It is you who are kind in receiving me, my lady," he countered, briefly clasping her proffered hand in his. "And I can assure you that the pleasure is all mine."

  Lady Julia favored him with her usual forced smile. "I must say that you have arrived at a most propitious time, Mr. Harwood. Lord Crompton is about to describe the new livery he has ordered for his footmen." She graced his lordship with one of her affected little smiles. "I, for one, cannot wait to hear the details."

  It was all Gideon could do to restrain his urge to groan aloud at the dreary prospect. The last time he had called, his lordship had been engaged in selecting wallpaper for his dressing room, and had described what seemed like a thousand different paper patterns in tediously minute detail. After doing so he had arbitrarily decided that he preferred paint, at which point he began to list every available tint along with a thorough description of each. He no doubt would have bored them all into a coma from the dullness of

  his droning dissertation had Lady Aurelia not delicately hinted at the fact that he had long overstayed the prescribed time limit for calls, which according to the rules of etiquette should not exceed twenty minutes, thus forcing him to take his leave. He could only hope that her ladyship would be as vigilant today.

  Hiding his chagrin behind a bland mask of politeness, Gideon dutifully presented Lady Julia with the offerings he carried, responding, "Since I do not wish to detain you from something to which you are so clearly looking forward, my lady, I shall seek a seat immediately and allow his lordship to proceed with what will no doubt prove to be a most stimulating discourse." Selecting a comfortable cane-backed armchair next to the distinguished, silver-haired Lord Dunsbee, whose wry wit he rather enjoyed, Gideon braced himself for the tedium that lay ahead.

  "Please do carry on, Lord Crompton," Lady Julia prompted brightly.

  Lord Crompton, a plump, priggish earl who seemed cursed by a perpetual cold, blew his nose with a violence that suggested more nasal mucus than a human head could possibly hold, and then did as requested. "As you know, my household livery is presently made up of a-a-"A-choo! Sniffle! Sniffle! Another fierce nose blow. "It is of a medium grayish blue superfine, which, to my way of thinking, is-is"- A-choo!-"exceedingly dull."

  "I should imagine it is," Lord Dunsbee muttered just loud enough for Gideon to hear, referring, of course, to Crompton's penchant for wearing unusual colors, the combinations of which, more often than not, clashed. Today was one of his mismatched days, his attire consisting of a carrot-orange coat, plum waistcoat, and breeches in a peculiar shade of ash gray.

  Sneezing twice and again blowing his nose, his lordship continued. "After visiting several of our city's finest drapers and viewing their wares, I have concluded that the new ones simply must be made up in mustard broadcloth. I found the most delightful shade at Dougherty's, which has been promised to me at a singularly excellent price." He clapped in glee at his bargain, an action that prompted yet another fit of sneezing.

  "Mustawd, you say?" Lord Wolton quizzed, his eyebrows rising in a manner that clearly communicated his condemnation of the notion. "Oh, deah. I do hope that my eahs ahe playing twicks on me and that you did not say mustawd, my good fellow."

  "And what is wrong with mustard, pray tell?" inquired Lord Tidwell, a tall, normally good-natured young viscount who just happened to be wearing mustard-colored breeches.

  Lord Wolton shrugged. "I only meant to call to attention the fact that Cwompton's hewaldic colows call foh the use of awgent lace. A pity, weally, that. Oh is eveh so much mohe elegant." Argent, which was silver, and or, gold, were terms that referred to the heraldic metals featured on titled families' coats of arms, and usually determined the metal to be used in the buttons and braided lace that trimmed their footmen's livery.

  "Our footmen's livery is trimmed in argent lace, and I have always thought them to look exceedingly fine," Lady Julia pointed out with admirable equanimity. "I am quite certain that Lord Crompton's servants shall look equally splendid."

  A-choo! A-choo! Sniffle! Lord Crompton, of course.

  Lord Wolton pursed his lips, visibly annoyed at being taken to task for his thoughtless slight to his hostess's family. "Awgent lace on woyal blue, such as youw footmen weah is indeed vewy pleasing, my deah, and is one of the few instances when awgent compahes favowably to oh. But awgent and mustawd?" A disdainful sniff. "I think not."

  Lord Crompton blew his nose loudly.

  "I rather think that it depends entirely on the shade of mustard. The contrast can be quite striking if done correctly," stated Lord Newmarch, a short but handsome viscount with a notorious fondness for tall phaetons and driving fast. Though he and Lord Crompton were famous for their public exchanges of wildly humorous insults, they were, in truth, the best of friends, and woe to anyone who dared to abuse one within the hearing of the other. Now lifting his quizzing glass to peruse Wolton's characteristically

  preposterous attire, his dark eyebrows rising at what he saw, he added, "In view of the fact that you selected a most unsuccessful combination of argent and mustard for the coat you wore to court a fortnight ago, I suppose that one can understand your aversion to the pairing. However, I am certain that Crompton learned from your failure, and shall do far better for himself."

  "My coat was buttewcup silk shot with silveh, not mustawd, and I will have you know that it was counted a gweat success in the ciwcles that twuly matteh," Lord Wolton heatedly retorted, his color rising beneath his rouge in a manner that made his use of cosmetics all the more obvious.

  "Indeed? And which circles are those?" inquired Lord Dunsbee, lifting his quizzing glass to join Lord Newmarch in his cool scrutiny of Lord Wolton. As if on cue, Lords Crompton and Tidwell followed suit.

  "Yes. Do tell. We really want to know," baited Tidwell.

  Lord Wolton's narrow chest puffed out in his affront and his thin lips all but disappeared as they crimped in
to an angry line. Glaring at the assembly of quizzing glasses and raised eyebrows, he bit out, "The highest ciwcles, I can assuwe you. Ones that do not suffeh the pwesence of nabobs in their midst."

  That last, of course, was a jab at Gideon. Now rising, wobbling unsteadily as he struggled to find his balance on his high-heeled shoes, he snapped, "Since I am not inclined to suffeh one now, I shall bid you a good day!" He paused only long enough to bow to the ladies, almost losing his balance in the process, before exiting the drawing room as quickly as the mincing steps required by his shoes would allow him.

  "But you still have not told which circles admired your coat," Dunsbee called out to his retreating back. "It is important that we know so that we do not unwittingly seek the opinion of one of their members should we meet him at our tailors' shops." When Lord Wolton did not deign to respond, he shrugged. "Pity. Now I shall have to wonder." A sigh. "Ah, well. I suppose that it is time that I take my leave as well, though it pains me to depart the company of two such charming ladies." With that, he rose. "Lady Aurelia, Lady Julia, a pleasure as always." He bowed. "Gentlemen." A nod. And then he, too, quit the room.

  He had no sooner stepped over the threshold than Cuthbert appeared announcing Lord Farndell and the Duke of Dollimore, both of whom Gideon knew from the tone of their conversation to be friends of Lady Julia rather than suitors. That she should have male friends, especially ones like Farndell and Dollimore, who clearly possessed a superior wit, astonished him to no end. For while he understood that it was a nobleman's duty to take an aristocratic bride such as Lady Julia, he could see nothing in her person that might possibly entice a man to call strictly for the pleasure of her company. Then again, if she were the sort of chit he had known all his life perhaps he would see qualities in her that currently escaped him.

  The next hour passed agreeably enough. Crompton and Newmarch entertained them with a droll duel of wits, after which they retired to their club to share a bottle. Tidwell followed on their heels, claiming an engagement with his mother, after which Farndell joked about the man's fawning devotion to his mimsey-mum, as Tidwell referred to his overbearing mother, and how he could never wed since no woman could ever measure up to dearest Mimsey-mum.

  Three more callers came and went, during which time Lady Aurelia discreetly inquired if there was something in particular Gideon required, hinting at his breach of etiquette in remaining in their company for so long. He replied no, thanked her for her thoughtfulness, and then made a show of repositioning himself in his chair to assume a lounging pose that clearly conveyed his disinclination to move any time in the near future.

  When, at last, Lord Thurkittle, Lady Julia's final caller departed, and Gideon still made no move to leave, Lady Julia smiled wanly and said, "I am sorry, Mr. Harwood, but I am afraid that I must excuse myself in order to prepare for the play I am to attend with Lady Amy this evening. Pray do pardon me?"

  Thus signaled that the moment he had patiently awaited had at last arrived, Gideon replied, "I shall do so only after you grant me a word in private. There is a matter of some urgency that we must discuss. Perhaps we can take a turn about the garden?" He gestured to the formal garden that lay beyond the French doors at the far end of the room. Well aware that she would not deny his request, he rose without awaiting her response, saying to her aunt, "If you will excuse us, Lady Aurelia? I promise that I shall not detain your niece for more than a moment, and that we will stay well within your view."

  Always a model of genteel courtesy, she smiled and nodded. "But of course, Mr. Harwood. I daresay that the air shall do our dearest Julia good. To my knowledge, she has not so much as poked her nose outside the entire day."

  Gideon bowed, and then escorted Lady Julia outside. As was her custom during those times when they were alone, she did not deign to speak, waiting instead for him to do so, her patrician face arranged in its usual expression of vacant sociability.

  The afternoon was a fine one, warm with just the slightest breeze that carried the fragrant sweetness of the honeysuckle that draped the garden walls in a tapestry of delicate cream and silvered green. The garden itself, though small, was laid out in a series of individual gardens divided by carefully raked sand paths, each containing a geometric topiary around which was planted a single genus of flower along with a host of its more exotic variations.

  As they descended the graceful sweep of steps leading from the rear terrace to the garden below, Lady Julia prompted, "I do not wish to be rude, Mr. Harwood, but I truly have an engagement for which I must prepare. Please do be kind enough to state your business so that we might resolve it posthaste."

  Gideon nodded. "As you wish. I have requested this moment alone to tell you that I have decided that I cannot marry you."

  She came to an abrupt halt, gaping at him with eyes so wide that they looked in danger of bulging from their sockets. "W-w-what?" She more squeaked than spoke the utterance, her mouth working as if she wished to say more but could not manage the words in her shock.

  "I no longer wish to wed you," he repeated, though, of course, it was obvious that she had heard him the first time.

  She remained silent for several moments, visibly stunned, then said in a small voice, "I am afraid that I do not understand, sir."

  Of course she didn't understand, Gideon thought sardonically; she could not possibly understand. In her conceit, it was no doubt beyond her to even imagine that there was a man in the world who did not wish to wed her and who would not gladly sell his soul for the privilege of doing so- something that he, himself, had come dangerously close to doing.

  As always happened when he remembered his weakness in the face of temptation, Gideon was gut punched by self-loathing. Unreasonably blaming her for his failing, despising her for being the lure who had all-too-willingly baited her father's hook, he chuckled darkly and ground out, "No, I am sure you do not, my dear. And I doubt that you shall ever be able to do so, so I will not waste either of our time by trying to explain. Let it simply suffice to say that I have decided that I no longer wish to be a part of the ton. And since gaining entree into that august circle was my sole objective in wedding you, I can see no reason in making us both miserable by continuing with our farce. Thus I am calling an end to it here and now."

  She could not have looked more puzzled. "But why?" She shook her head, her delicately arched eyebrows drawing together in her bewilderment. "Everyone in the ton has received you quite graciously. Well, except for Lord Wolton, but no one cares a fig for his opinion, as you saw today. And my father said just yesterday that he is certain that he can secure you a membership at Brooks once we are wed." Another head shake. "All and all you are meeting with far greater success than either my father or I could have imagined. Why ever would you wish to quit the ton now when you are all but assured of entree? We have only to announce our engagement next week as planned to-"

  He cut her off with an impatient hand gesture. "As I said, you could never understand my reason. I am calling off the bargain, and that is that. Nothing you can say or do shall change my mind, so I suggest that you simply accept matters as they are."

  He was about to add his promise to uphold his end of the bargain and keep silent on the matter of her family secret, when she retorted in a low voice that practically vibrated with restrained anger, "I will have you know, sir, that I am not some witless child to be patted on the head and dismissed without so much as a by-your-leave. Indeed, after all the effort I have gone to to satisfy your demands, you owe me at the very least an explanation of your sudden change in plans." To her credit, she managed to maintain her brittle smile and expression of vapid courtesy throughout her indignant little speech. Then again, perhaps it was not so much her doing as that they had simply become permanently affixed after being in place for so long.

  Gideon shrugged. "Fine, then. You shall have one, though I do not expect that you will ever be able to truly fathom what I am about to say. The truth of the matter is that I do not like the ton or most of the people in it
, nor have I found a single benefit to be gained from inclusion into it that could possibly outweigh the misery one must suffer in order to be a member."

  "If what you say is indeed true, then it is you who lacks an ability for comprehension, for you cannot see the extraordinary value of what is being offered." Though her face remained complaisant and her delivery even, a note of the hauteur she had displayed during their first interview had crept into her voice.

  "Then perhaps you would care to enlighten me on what I have failed to comprehend?" Not that he actually cared what she might have to say on the subject. It was just that he could not resist challenging her when she took that arrogant tone with him.

  She favored him with a stiff nod. "Gladly. However, may I suggest that we walk while I do so? My aunt is watching and I do not wish her to suspect that something is amiss."

  Gideon snorted at the absurdity of the reasoning behind her proposal. "No doubt she will catch on to that fact quickly enough when I suddenly cease calling."

  "True. But if she believes that we are arguing or engaging in any other such unpleasantness now, she will come out and remove me from your presence. It is her duty as my chaperon to do so."

  As tempting as he found the prospect of having her tedious ladyship snatched from his presence, Gideon did as requested and resumed their leisurely stroll through the garden. After all, he had had his say, so it was only fair that she should have hers as well. When they had walked for several moments, and she had yet to take advantage of the opportunity he had presented for her to do so, he prompted, "Well? I believe that you were about to emancipate me from my ignorance in regard to the ton."

  She glanced up at him, her smile firmly in place. "Yes, of course, Mr. Harwood. But first, might I inquire after your initial desire to enter the ton? What was it that you wished to gain that you have since decided is impossible?" Again, she was all that was agreeable.