Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04]

by Dangerous Lady

  “No, he doesn’t,” Miss Abby agreed without turning.

  “He certainly doesn’t,” Mrs. Linford echoed, with so much feeling that Letty looked at her in surprise.

  “Goodness, ma’am, what—?”

  “Did he not speak to you about us, then, dear?”

  “Miranda, poor Lucas is standing in the rain waiting for us, and there is Jackson now, hurrying out with our umbrella,” Miss Abby exclaimed “We must go in at once! It won’t do for either of them to catch his death of cold on our account.”

  Letty wanted to ask what Raventhorpe had done to agitate the aunts, but Lucas and Jackson were waiting and she did not have time to go inside if she was to be ready in time for Lady Sellafield’s dinner party. So she held her tongue, certain she would find out soon enough, in any event.

  As the carriage made its way back to Piccadilly and then along the Strand, she leaned back, enjoying the pounding of the rain on the roof now, and the added clatter of iron wheels swishing through puddles on the cobblestone streets. It was growing colder, but both Jonathan Coachman and Lucas wore protective oilskin coats and broad-brimmed hats, and the horses would find food and dry stalls in the stables at Jervaulx House. So for a few moments she managed to devote her thoughts wholly to Raventhorpe and to pondering the maze that lay ahead of her.

  She could not deny that she liked the viscount. He was handsome, and even her grandfather in his worst temper could not have disapproved of his wealth or his rank in society. Indeed the crusty sixth marquess even would have approved of Raventhorpe’s determination to dominate everyone within his orbit. The one thing that he would not have approved, however, was Raventhorpe’s politics. If she had heard her grandfather refer to one damned Whig, she had heard him refer to fifty, and although the present Marquess of Jervaulx was not as staunchly conservative as his father had been, he was nonetheless a good Tory. He would doubtless have little good to say about his daughter’s interest in a gentleman Whig.

  The cold had enveloped her by the time she reached home, and Miss Dibble greeted her with alarm. “My dear, you are drenched to the skin! I collect that that dreadful cloudburst caught you still in the gardens.”

  “It certainly did, Elvira. Indeed I am glad you did not come with us. How are you feeling? Did you enjoy your day of quiet?”

  “Yes, indeed. Jenifry and I have been going through your wardrobe to see what you will want to replace, and making lists of new things you should purchase.”

  “You haven’t rested at all, in fact.”

  Miss Dibble smiled. “I am glad to have had time to do what needed doing, but perhaps your parents would say I ought to have gone with you. Why did you not linger in Upper Brook Street until you were warm and dry again?”

  “I won’t melt, Elvira. You’re the one who said you feared you might be coming down with something, not I. Here, Lucas, take my wet cloak to the kitchen to dry, and stay there yourself until you have had something hot to drink. I want you to escort us to Lady Sellafield’s dinner party tonight, but I shan’t need you until seven, when we will be ready to leave.”

  Miss Dibble said, “Lucas, tell them her ladyship requires a hot bath, and tell them also to put it near the hearth in her bedchamber, not in her dressing room. They can build up the fire, too, whilst they are about it.”

  Letty did not argue with these orders. Her cloak, wet as it had been, had kept her warmer than she was without it. She was beginning to shiver.

  Miss Dibble hustled her upstairs to her bedchamber and rang for Jenifry, who arrived as two menservants carried in the high-backed tub and the first bucketsful of hot water. Jervaulx House did not boast any mechanized arrangement to provide hot water above the first floor, but old-fashioned methods still worked very well.

  When the men had filled the tub and gone, Jenifry began to stir delicious-smelling French salts into the water. The fire crackled warmly on the hearth, and even in her wet clothing, Letty began to feel more comfortable.

  With Miss Dibble’s help, she twisted her wet hair into a knot atop her head and quickly stripped off her clothes. As she stepped into the bath, she said, “You go and get dressed, Elvira. Jen can look after me without your help, but I daresay you will want to be present for the final touches to my dress.”

  “Yes, indeed, for I mean to see that you look your best this evening. That place will be crawling with Whigs, Letitia. I don’t want them to notice a single curl out of place. We’d be hearing about that for a sennight afterward.”

  Seeing Jenifry stiffen indignantly, Letty quelled her with a look and said, “You know that Jen always sees me well turned out, Elvira. I will be grateful for your advice after you have dressed, of course, but there is nothing for you to do here until I have finished bathing.”

  When the woman had gone, Jenifry said as she handed Letty a bar of French soap, “Sometimes Miss Dibble makes my tongue fairly itch to tell her what I think.”

  “Well, don’t do it,” Letty said. “I don’t mind when you say what you think to me, but I would have to take her side if you were impertinent to her. Hand me that cloth, will you? And you might as well wash my hair whilst we’re about it. It’s already wet, after all.”

  Jenifry silently loosened Letty’s hair and poured warm water over it. While she lathered it, Letty relaxed against the back of the tub with her eyes shut.

  “May I ask a question, miss?”

  Letty opened her eyes. “Of course you may,” she said in surprise.

  “Well, I did wonder. You went so quiet, and all.”

  Letty knew that Jenifry’s reticence had more to do with the reproof than with the silence since, but she let the comment pass. “What is it, Jen?”

  “About the queen, miss. Why is it she don’t allow Sir John Conroy to come near her anymore?”

  “Mercy, why do you ask that?”

  “Well, it does seem cruel to me that she’s pushed him to the background now, when he guided her every step before she took the throne. He’s got only her best interest at heart, I should think.”

  “Sir John and the Duchess of Kent also kept the queen isolated from society when she was a princess, Jen. They scarcely ever allowed her to attend even court functions, let alone any others. If the old king had not insisted that she visit him from time to time, she would not have had the least idea of how to go on at court.”

  “Then she cannot have learned all she needs to know to rule competently,” Jenifry pointed out. “Perhaps she ought to listen to them who care most about her.”

  “Now that she is the queen, she wants to look like a queen,” Letty said firmly. “It is quite understandable that Her Majesty does not want Conroy, or her mother, or anyone else, telling her what to do now, Jen.”

  “I suppose,” Jenifry said. “Still, some say we’d do better with a king now, miss, that other countries have good reason for keeping women off their thrones.”

  “You, of all people, ought to know that a female is equal to anything,” Letty said, striving to retain her patience. “Think of Queen Elizabeth, for heaven’s sake. She did more for England than any ten kings.”

  “Well, perhaps, but she was older, Elizabeth was, and some say—”

  “Do they say who would rule this country if the law had prevented Her Majesty from taking the throne? It would be the King of Hanover. You certainly know enough about him to know that he would make us a dreadful ruler, Jen. Why they say he once murdered his own valet!”

  “Lean forward, please, miss. I’m going to pour the rinse water now.”

  Thinking she had finally made her point, Letty shut her eyes until Jenifry had finished rinsing the soap out of her hair and had twisted it up again in a towel.

  Then Jenifry said, “Still and all, Miss Letty, they say Sir John was once the most powerful man in the country, and that he’s right smart, too. They say that Her Majesty should reinstate him, and not take all her advice from Lord Melbourne.”

  Letty sighed. “Who says?”

  “It just ain’t rig
ht the way Her Majesty looks only to Lord Melbourne,” Jenifry said without answering the question. “They say he is much more than—”

  “It is no secret that Sir John hoped to become the power behind the throne,” Letty said, cutting in before Jenifry could say more about the queen’s relationship with Melbourne. Clearly, Jenifry had been talking to others about all this, and it would do neither her nor her mistress any good if it became known around the court that Letitia Deverill’s dresser dared to speak ill of the queen and her prime minister.

  Hoping to make it plain that she would disapprove of such unseemly prattle, Letty added gently, “I may not always support Melbourne’s political positions, but he is a good man, and he manages Her Majesty much more deftly than Conroy did.”

  “Indeed, miss, she seems ever so taken—”

  “Jenifry, if you want to ask me questions, you may. But since you do not understand British politics, I think perhaps you would do better to keep your opinions to yourself until you understand them better.”

  “Yes, miss. If you’re finished now, I’ll fetch your towel.”

  Letty said nothing more until she was sitting in front of the fire wrapped in her warm robe, and Jenifry had begun to brush her hair dry. Then, hoping to ease the tension between them, she said, “How are all those handsome men on your string behaving themselves these days?”

  “I never said they were all handsome,” Jenifry said.

  “You did say that at least one of them is.”

  “Have a heart, miss. There’s only two.”

  “I thought I’d counted three, at least.”

  “That’s because you tease me about the Duchess of Sutherland’s footman, but I never thought much of him, though he was kind enough to us that first day. In truth, he’s so high in the instep that any sensible girl wants to stomp on it.”

  Letty smiled. “And the others aren’t? I thought you said Raventhorpe’s man was the stuffy one.”

  “And so he is,” Jenifry said with feeling. “Every time I see that man, he’s telling me how I should go on, who I should talk to, and who I shouldn’t. He had the nerve to come looking for me here today, when it’s not even my half-day. He’s a sight more puffed up in his own esteem than what that starchy footman is.”

  “Well, I expect that leaves the third one, then. Walter, isn’t that his name?”

  “Yes, miss.” Her tone was cool, and she said no more.

  The only sounds in the room were the crack of a sparking ember and the rhythmic strokes of the brush through Letty’s hair until she said, “I apologize if my questions were too particular, Jen.”

  “It isn’t that, miss.”

  When she did not elaborate, Letty turned to see a troubled look in her eyes. “What is it, then?” she prompted.

  “Nothing, miss.”

  Gently Letty said, “Are you in love with Walter?”

  Jenifry flushed. “I … I don’t know, miss. He’s as handsome as a man can stare, and the other women—they think I’m as lucky as he is handsome. When I’m with him, the way the others look at me makes me feel like a queen, because I’m the one he chose out of all the whole lot of them. But then …”

  When it became clear that she did not intend to finish, Letty said, “Tell me.”

  Jenifry drew a long breath, then said in a brisker tone, “Like as not, it isn’t anything worth telling, miss. He’s just a mite forceful in his nature, that’s all. When I’m with him, I don’t always know whether I’m on my heels or on my head.”

  Startled, Letty said, “He hasn’t … That is, he doesn’t force you to—”

  “No, miss.” Jenifry flushed more deeply than ever. “It’s just he slapped me once, is all. I daresay I deserved it, though, and he apologized straightaway, Walter did.” She smiled ruefully, adding, “He wants what any man wants, of course, but he doesn’t press me for favors I’d as lief not grant him yet. Nor ever, for that matter, without we get married first, but—”

  “Mercy, has he asked you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Well, that’s just it. He doesn’t ask for marriage. Not yet, at all events.”

  “Then stand firm, Jen. You know how angry Papa gets if he finds that one of the menservants has seduced a maid. Some men even go so far as to let a girl think they want marriage when they only want to bed her, you know.”

  “I do know that, miss, and I’m a good girl. It isn’t even that he gets angry or such. He just has a way of seeming sometimes to swallow me up when he talks.”

  Letty chuckled, knowing that Jenifry had meant to lighten the mood with her phrasing, but nonetheless she felt troubled. They had known each other since childhood, and never before had Jenifry expressed interest in a man. Had the man in question sounded like one the young dresser’s parents would approve, Letty would have left well enough alone (or so she hoped). But this man sounded as if he could be more dangerous than Jenifry might suspect.

  Deciding that it might prove necessary to put a spoke in Walter’s wheel, she said casually, “Have you ever learned who Walter’s master is?”

  “Aye, miss. He serves a man called Charles Morden. A very important man, Walter says. Do you know him?”

  “I don’t know him, exactly, but I know who he is,” Letty said. “He is aide to Sir John Conroy, Jen. I begin to suspect where you got your new political notions.”

  Jenifry bit her lip, then said, “I’d best get your hair dry, miss. It will take some time, and you’ll need to be getting your dress on soon or you’ll be late to Sellafield House.”

  Justin, too, was dressing for his mother’s dinner party, and he was not looking forward to it. Not only would Susan Devon-Poole be there with Sir Adrian and Lady Devon-Poole, but Sellafield and Ned would be present, both doubtless still harboring ill feelings toward him. Also, his great-aunts would be there, and he feared that one or the other might say something that would lead to their undoing. It was hard for him to imagine how they had avoided doing so long before now.

  Examining the articles laid out on his dressing table, he said with a frown, “I want the ruby cravat pin, Leyton, not this trumpery thing you put out.”

  “Sorry, sir, I’ll fetch it as soon as I finish shaving you.”

  There would be other guests, too, including the prime minister, Lady Letitia and the dragon who generally accompanied her, the Witherspoons, Admiral and Lady Rame, and other friends of his parents.

  His thoughts returned to Letitia’s dragon. At this point, he could not decide whether he was grateful for her absence from Chiswick or deplored it. What had she been thinking, to let her headstrong charge go dashing about London on her own? He was certain that Jervaulx had not engaged such a woman merely so she could turn a blind eye to Letitia’s activities.

  Leyton, after putting away his shaving utensils, brought him the ruby pin. “I’ll bring your coat now, sir, shall I? You’ll want the dark blue one, I expect.”

  “The black,” Justin said, studying the folds of his cravat in the dressing glass as he pinned the ruby in place. Though he generally gave his full attention to his attire until it satisfied him, then forgot it, he could not seem to control his imagination’s present annoying tendency to waft him back to Chiswick.

  When he and Letitia had dashed back in search of the aunts, they had found them quickly, in much the same place they had left them. All three women had urged him to accept a ride with them, but he insisted that he had to find Puck.

  Though Justin had cursed the carelessness that had caused him to leave his friend and the carriage without making a specific plan for finding both after the fete, he had been sure Puck would not leave without him. At least, he would not do so until he had waited long enough to be certain Justin had gone with someone else.

  Justin, having recalled that on his arrival he had passed an area near the main gate clearly reserved for ticketed vehicles, hoped he would find his carriage there and that Puck had had the good sense to wait there with it. Therefore, upon learning that Letitia had left her co
ach in that area, he had accompanied the three ladies there and left them in the care of her capable-looking coachman and footman.

  He had quickly located his own carriage and coachman, but it was some time before Puck returned, looking more like a drowned rat than a gentleman of fashion.

  “Good Lord,” Puck exclaimed. “What a downpour! Tell them to whip up the horses, will you? It’s going to take me hours to make myself presentable again for your mama’s dinner party.”

  Justin had complied; however, they had found themselves in a long line of traffic again, slowed even more when a coach ahead of them had bogged down in a rut and men had had to pull it out again. Still, he had no doubt now that Puck would be among the first guests to arrive, and he was thankful that he would be.

  Leyton brought his coat, and Justin stood to put it on before he noticed that it was the wrong one. “I said the black, Leyton, not the blue.”

  “Sorry, sir. I know you did. Don’t know where my mind is tonight.”

  When Justin found himself thinking about Letitia again while Leyton helped him slip on the snug-fitting black coat, he firmly pushed the thought away. He could not imagine what had stirred him to kiss the willful chit. If Miss Devon-Poole had got notions in her head simply from his occasional notice of her, what on earth would Letitia be thinking now that he had kissed her? He was a fool, and no mistake. Nothing could come of such a relationship except heartache for her and damned inconvenience and censure for him. If her father got wind of it … But there his imagination boggled, and he made a vow to be more circumspect in future.

  He still would have to discuss the Upper Brook Street house with her, of course. He could not let that imbroglio continue a moment longer than he could help. Common knowledge of such goings-on would ruin not only Letitia but also the aunts, and their social ruin would reflect badly on both him and his parents, as well.

  Leyton brought him his cloak.

  “What the devil! Leyton, have you lost your mind? I am not going out.”

  The valet looked at the cloak and shook his head. “Sorry, my lord.”