Maid of Honor

by Stephanie Lilley

  Moving to the viscount, Cressida threaded her arm through his and looked up at him.

  "Peter, I would infinitely prefer you to continue teaching me," she said silkily. "I cannot wait until we may go out together again."

  He looked askance at her. "I cannot say when that might be."

  "I may wait for you after all, I believe." She glanced at Alianora. The bonnet's brim hid her smug smile from Lord Cerestone.

  "You are of age. You are free to do as you wish." He gently but insistently removed her arm from his. "I suggest you leave for Bond Street as the time is fleeting."

  Cressida didn't like his dismissal nor did she care for his reference to her age, but even she could see that no more could be accomplished at this time. Again the thrust of the bonnet hid her expression from him. She glared at Alianora as she swept past, leading Georgina from the room, and repeating the sobriquet the Prince Regent had bestowed upon the visitor, "fair maid of Kent," as if it were something to be ashamed of, something to be ridiculed. She then laughed in a way that might have delighted her admirers but seemed merely malicious to Alianora.

  Alianora lifted her chin. Miss Cressida Finsbury certainly appeared to harbor an excessive hostility toward her—but she was no threat to Cressida's relationship with Lord Cerestone, or was she?

  Alianora still stood near the doorway clutching her purple-wrapped psaltery, afraid to move as she looked into Cerestone's wondrous, kind eyes, afraid to shatter the moment. Again she was alone with a man, but in her life at Grassmere she had never been so followed about by maids, footmen, and grooms so she accepted their absence without a qualm. He was so handsome, the embodiment of a young King Arthur. She remembered dancing with him in the banqueting hall, how quickly he learned the complicated dance despite his denial, how interesting and lively had been their conversation. And, more recently, the accident in the park when she had landed in his lap—how she had been content to remain there even in full view of the public! The thought caused her to blush, which brought Peter to himself at last.

  "I am being rude, I fear, my lady. Please, sit so that we may speak," Lord Cerestone said, indicating a comfortable leather chair. He sat opposite her. "I wished to thank you for coming to Fanny. She treasures your friendship."

  Alianora smiled, looking down as she smoothed the velvet over the instrument. "She is quite special."

  Tired of waiting for the next muffin-fall, Hector stood up and shoved a cold nose under his master's hand. Finding nothing, he left for the nursery where Bobbin might be taking his mid-morning tea.

  "I hope you will feel free to come at any time to see her," he said, watching as the tail disappeared out the door. He then looked at Alianora, the crown of golden braids, the graceful tilt of her head, the long, slender fingers.

  She raised her eyes and he admired the clear, deep color, the open, honest countenance—her emotions there to be seen and read. She now frowned a little, looking worried.

  "Will she be all right? It is nothing—mortal, is it?" she asked.

  "The doctor believes she will eventually recover. Quite often delicate children grow into perfectly healthy adults."

  "I do hope so. I will do all I can to help her. Would it be permissible to come every day?"

  He held his breath. To see her every day, in his own house—he would never accomplish a thing. Perhaps it would be better to remove to his club each day she visited or arrange to be away escorting Georgina or his stepmama somewhere. But how could he allow such an opportunity to escape him—to see her, to listen to her beautiful voice? It was a dilemma—the sort of internal debate he never engaged in. The solution was always one way or another, completely unequivocal. He kicked himself mentally. He would return to his old life, finish the manuscript for his publisher—John Murray had already prodded him this week, reluctantly arranging a new due date. He would leave town in less than two months and settle back into his comfortable life at Woodhurst. That decided, he sat back in his chair.

  "Yes, please come as often as you wish," he told her, breathing at last. "However, do not curtail your own activities for Fanny, I beg you. She will understand."

  "There is nothing so important that I may not at least see her once a day," she assured him, becoming a little more relaxed.

  "I have an invitation for you to Georgina's ball. We're firing her off next Tuesday." He brought it out of his pocket and handed it to her. "For you and your sister-in-law, of course. I hope you will be able to come."

  "I shall consult with Katie," Alianora said with a laugh. "We are so busy it has been truly inconceivable to me. I know of no obligation, however."

  "I believe the ballroom will be decorated in the manner of a classical circus: swags and swags of greenery, material draped from the ceiling as if we were all under a tent. Georgina and her mother are planning it. I have merely to show up."

  "Shall I come as chariot driver or lion tamer?" she teased.

  He laughed. "Perhaps Athene to bless the games or Terpsichore to lead the song and dance." He indicated her psaltery.

  "Well, I shall be quite demure," she resolved. "After all, it is to celebrate your sister's debut into society."

  "She is already quite celebrated. After the ball, our knocker shall never be still, I fear."

  "More opportunity for her."

  "Too much opportunity may give one a headache."

  They were interrupted by Beeley, who carried a tray of refreshments. The viscount apologized for his lack of manners and gave the butler an appreciative nod.

  Alianora stood. "Oh, no. I cannot stay. I must send for my maid."

  Beeley bowed. "I shall have her attend you immediately, my lady."

  She thanked him. "I hope that the ball will not be too much of a trial, my lord."

  "Only a tribulation at worst." He had come to his feet as soon as she did and moved closer to her.

  Suddenly uncomfortable, Alianora moved away toward two glass-fronted bookcases. They were ceiling high, topped by wooden pediments and owl finials, flanking a large window. She glanced over the titles, noting the preponderance of "Histories of . . ." Nestled in among Moroccan-bound, gilt lettered books was one whose author was quite familiar. She turned with a questioning look and found Lord Cerestone standing behind her. He smiled.

  "Yes, I am afraid I did write that dusty old tome."

  "May I?" Alianora asked and he nodded. She set her psaltery aside and carefully pulled out the volume. "Being the history of Tudor household economics and their effect on ensuing history, with special notes on the Clerks of the Green Cloth," she read aloud. "How, uh, interesting."

  He chuckled. "It was at the time; however, I would never wish to sift through the household accounts of anyone again, not even someone as fascinating as Henry VIII."

  'Then you truly have spent your life between the pages of a book."

  "I stand accused, sentenced, and committed, my lady."

  She smiled to herself, that impish, internal smile that positively intrigued him. Shaking her head, she replaced the book, closed the case front. He was disappointed when she did not take his verbal bait then wondered at himself. Why should he assume she would? They had met not above three times and barely knew one another, yet it was so easy to slip into the same camaraderie he shared with Buck and Henry. That was a bad omen.

  Her maid came and she left and Cerestone returned to his paper. After some time of reading without comprehension, he laid it aside. It felt as if the sunshine had gone away.

  Alianora returned to Katie's, hugging the psaltery to her as she entered the hall. Upstairs it sounded like company in the drawing room so she decided to slip past until she saw Katie lying rather limply on the sofa. Mrs. Bowman and Katie's friend, Lady Ribbesdale, fluttered about her.

  "Katie," Alianora said. "Are you all right?"

  "Oh, Alianora," Katie said a little faintly, her face pale. "I was a trifle dizzy." She smiled. "Too many late nights I am afraid." Color gradually returned to her cheeks and she sat up. "I feel mu
ch better now. And I promise I shall rest this afternoon."

  Alianora put the psaltery on a nearby table and joined Katie on the chaise, taking her cold hands between hers. "Shall I help you to your room?"

  "Thank you, but I truly am better." She looked up at her friend. "Thank you, Eliza. I am sorry our tea was cut short."

  Eliza, formerly of the fruit-garden bonnet, nodded worriedly. "Then I shall leave you to the care of your family. I'll drop by tomorrow to see how you are getting along."

  A footman led her downstairs. Mrs. Bowman poured a cup of tea for Katie.

  "Here, lamby, tea will restore you."

  Alianora looked at the older woman and asked, "What happened?"

  "Just a spell, I'm thinking. Plenty of rest and tea and she'll be right as a rain shower."

  "Yes, yes." She sipped from the cup. "Now, tell me, Alia, how is Fanny? When she is better we, should have her to visit."

  "Lord Cerestone assures me she will recover.” Just speaking his name made her feel warm inside and, thus distracted, she missed the significant looks that passed between the two matrons.

  "Yes," repeated Katie. "I should like to meet her.” Alianora smiled. "She is so intelligent and sweet. I hope that I may see her walk while we are here."

  "I wish that too. And, now," she said, putting down her cup and saucer, "I believe I shall retire. No, no, Alia, stay, please, and receive any visitors. Cousin Sarah will see that I am tucked in."

  "Of course, lamby. Let's go." Mrs. Bowman placed a large, soft arm about Katie's waist and off they went.

  Alianora sat for some time thinking how the wonderful city life and city air seemed decidedly unhealthy for some people. They should all return to Grassmere where the wind brought clean, crisp scents from the land and river.

  The next day Alianora remained at home to take care of her sister-in-law, singing to her and reading a truly awful Gothic novel that Katie seemed to revel in. Katie approved their attendance at Georgina Everhurst's ball and insisted that Alianora have a special gown made, something in a blue to match her eyes. She would give her a delicate sapphire necklace to wear with it. Never mind the pearls that society dictated for young girls. Pearls disappeared against Alianora's fine skin—sapphires would do very well! She insisted that Alianora keep the necklace.

  Her mother wrote that all was well. The earl had wandered away only once thus far and was discovered on the road to London, declaring that he had "thought to visit his daughter at court." Alianora smiled a little mistily. Belisande was in full molt, according to Stephen, so he concentrated now on training several of the other hawks. Spring was in bloom at Grassmere, the days were warm and fragrant, and everyone missed her, missed her singing about the place. She sighed, longing to be home.

  Alianora found an hour to visit Fanny, who was sitting up in bed and, happily, seemed to be gaining strength. Lord Cerestone was absent from the house the entire time and Alianora left feeling quite disappointed. But then, she would certainly see him Tuesday next at his sister's ball.

  Later that day she received a disturbing note from Percy, saying that he would be gone from town for a few days and she was not to worry. Not to worry! When she knew he owed some vast amount of money! The last sentence left her in an even worse state. Lord Savernake will speak to you of it when next he takes you driving.

  That would be tomorrow. Yes, she would speak with Lord Savernake about Percy. It was too bad to take such advantage of another's weakness!

  Monday Katie was quite her cheerful self once more and insisted on shopping with Alianora for the Everhurst ball. They discovered a marvelous shade of gentian blue crepe for her gown and decided upon white velvet ribbons with silver spangles for the high waist and small sleeves. Katie insisted that if she would not consent to having her hair shorn she should at least style it a little differently. They consulted with a coiffeur, who waxed enthusiastic over such beautiful hair and said he knew precisely what to do. Why, she would inspire others to adopt a longer style!

  They returned in time for a small nuncheon. Katie said that she felt sleepy and would take a nap. No, no, there was nothing wrong.

  Alianora went upstairs to change for her ride with Lord Savernake, allowing the maid to dress her in a primrose carriage dress with matching spencer trimmed with bright green frogs and braiding down the sleeves. When the maid left, she stood for a long time looking down into the garden, noting how the sunlight glistened on the new leaves of the plane trees, set the patches of daffodils aglow, sparkled on the small lily pond. She would rather be there, sitting on the stone bench listening to the thrushes and robins than driving out with someone she loathed.

  Lord Cerestone. She let the name linger in her mind as she contemplated the oasis of nature. The thought of him surrounded her like a warm hug; his smile and twinkling eyes left her a little weak in the knees as she pictured him. If only she were to drive out with him! He made her feel comfortable, and safe, and imposed neither his will nor his presence upon her. She thought of the ball and smiled thinking that they would, perhaps, have a chance to dance together again. And after the ball—? The thought suddenly chilled her. Would she see him again? Surely, if she continued to see Fanny he would be at the house once in a while. The next thought horrified her: Could she return to Grassmere knowing she would never see him again?

  The maid entered and announced that Lord Savernake awaited her below. It took Alianora a moment to clear her head and return to the present. Yes. Percy. Time to slay Percy's dragon.

  Lord Savernake rose when she entered the drawing room, immediately complimenting her upon her appearance. With Lord Cerestone she might have riposted with a phrase such as "did he mean her looks or the fact that she had arrived at all?" It would not do for Lord Savernake.

  He was handsome in his own way, his costume flawlessly pressed. Katie had told her of town beaus who required two men to help them into their coats. Alianora thought that quite impractical. Could one ride comfortably, sit comfortably, reach out to catch a hawk?

  He bowed and led her outside where she saw, to her relief, a curricle rather than the phaeton awaiting them. "I thought we might take a turn about the park and then a brief ride in the country, stopping, of course, at an inn for refreshment. Would that please you, my lady?" he asked, settling beside her and signaling the footman to let loose the horses' heads.

  "That will do, my lord," she said, her voice cool.

  He turned to look at her, not certain how to interpret her words, then decided she simply meant she agreed.

  Unfortunately, Alianora had no chance to mention her brother as they stopped and chatted with a number of people out enjoying the afternoon in the park. Perhaps she would have an opportunity at the inn where it would be quieter and she could face him. She would then tell him she was not interested, in seeing him again and that he must leave Percy alone or she would report all to William. It gave her a pang to think that she might be betraying Percy, but he truly needed help disentangling himself from this well-dressed octopus.

  After two passes through the park, Lord Savernake turned the curricle toward the Stanhope Gate and they were soon on their way out of the city, neither having noticed the raised quizzing glass—zebrawood finishing in a gold ball—taking note of their departure, nor having overheard the worried words addressed to a rather stocky horseman in natty brown nankeen. The two men hurried away to Grosvenor Square. The three of them would follow that curricle.

  Alianora herself felt quite uneasy as they left the crowds behind. Lord Savernake occasionally passed a farm wagon or slow coach, driving along at such a spanking pace that she feared for her new bonnet. She tightened the bow along her cheek then gripped her reticule. She still had a paper of pins.

  They at last pulled into the yard of a small tavern shaded by tall chestnuts still dropping blossoms. An ostler appeared to take the horses and Lord Savernake helped her alight, letting his hands linger on her waist as he did so. With an insistent wiggle she freed herself, declaring that she was
positively parched and nothing less than a pint of ale would quench her thirst. This served to raise Lord Savernake's eyebrows and tickle him into a disgust, as she had intended. But he shrugged it off, believing that a little ale might make her more amenable to his proposal—not precisely her intention.

  Savernake joined her just inside and led her to a private parlor such as it was in such a little place. There was a table bare of cloth, several rickety chairs, a bench with dusty cover beneath the one small window. It smelled musty and damp despite the dry, windy day. A boy in a dirty apron appeared in the doorway and Savernake ordered ale for her and brandy for himself.

  "Not the best in accommodations, perhaps, but the spirits are adequate," he said, inviting her to sit. She did so very gingerly.

  "Lord Savernake," she began, but was interrupted when the boy returned, setting down the mug of ale so roughly it slopped over. She picked up the mug, let it drip a moment then sipped from it. Dutch courage, she knew. The ale was strong and bitter but then she was accustomed to the mead her father brewed.

  "Lady Alianora," Lord Savernake said after finishing his brandy. He sat opposite her at the table, twirling the glass between his fingers. "I have brought you here for a reason."

  "Yes, my brother, I believe," she told him. "Percy sent me quite an odd note saying that you would explain his predicament to me."

  "I am afraid I must tell you he is quite deeply in debt; in fact, he has repaired to the countryside to escape the duns. Should they catch him he'll be thrown into Newgate."

  Alianora gripped the handle of the mug very tightly. "You have led him to this, have you not, my lord?"

  His dark eyes widened at this soft attack. "Not entirely,” he admitted. "Your brother asked to be led."

  "I know that he has the gambling fever. But he is young and merely lacks proper guidance.”

  "You are fortunate that I am his primary creditor for I have a solution that will satisfy everyone, I believe."