Virtue v-1

by Jane Feather

  Judith was for a moment silenced, then suddenly she began to laugh. "I do believe we're quarreling," she observed with satisfaction. "I knew it couldn't be long."

  "Hornet!" He led her out of the dance.

  "Shall we go home?"

  "An admirable idea." He steered her across the room, one flat palm in the small of her back.

  "Good evening, Lady Carrington, Marcus… Permit me to offer my felicitations. I would have done so earlier, but Barret was kept in the country with a touch of the gout and we've only just returned to town."

  Lady Barret materialized in their path, extending her hand to Judith as she smiled at Marcus. "This wretched war," she murmured. "It played havoc with one's social life. Everyone disappeared to Brussels."

  "Hardly everyone," Marcus demurred, letting his hand fall from Judith's back and lifting Lady Barret's to his lips.

  "Well, now that the ogre is safely put away on that island, it's to be hoped life can go back to normal." Lady Barret shuddered delicately.

  "The war lasted fifteen years," Judith remarked into the air. "Peace is hardly the normal condition."

  Agnes's smile froze and her eyes seemed to shrink to mere pinpricks in her suddenly sharpened face. She laughed, a harsh sound like breaking glass. "How true, my dear Lady Carrington. Such a sharp wit you have."

  Judith felt that strange aura again and the unmistakable conviction that Agnes Barret was a dangerous woman to cross. She forced a smile to her lips. "I meant no discourtesy, ma'am. But the world has been at war throughout most of my life, so perhaps I see it from a different perspective."

  Agnes's eyes narrowed at this reference to their differing ages. "I hope I may call upon you, Lady Carrington," she said coldly as Marcus eased his wife away.

  "I should be honored," Judith said distantly.

  At the door, Judith halted and looked over her shoulder. Agnes Barret was in close conversation with Bernard Melville. They reminded her of a pair of hooded cobras, touching tongues. A shudder of revulsion ripped through her.

  "What's troubling you, Judith?" Marcus asked softly. "You're wound as tight as a coiled spring. And you were unpardonably rude."

  "I know. It's something about that woman." She shrugged. "Never mind. I'm just being fanciful." She moved to the staircase.

  "Oh, Judith, are you leaving?" Charlie appeared from the shadows of a doorway on the landing, and Judith wondered why she felt he'd been lying in wait for them. He ducked his head at her and addressed his cousin, but without looking at him. "Marcus… could you spare me a few minutes tomorrow… a matter of some urgency?"

  "I'm always available for you, Charlie," Marcus said evenly. "Shall we say at around noon, if that will suit you?"

  "Yes… yes, that'll be fine." Two bright spots of color burned on his cheekbones. "I'll see you then… uh… Judith, good night." With a jerky bob, he kissed her cheek and then turned and disappeared rapidly into the salon.

  "Damn young fool," Marcus observed without heat.

  "Why, what's happened?"

  "He's in dun territory again. Up to his ears in gaming debts and he's going to want me to advance him the money to settle them. He doesn't know I know it, of course."

  "And how do you know it?"

  He looked down at her in some surprise. "Charlie's my ward, Judith. Not much happens in his life that I don't know about. He's my responsibility."

  "And you take your responsibilities very seriously," she mused. Marcus might be a strict guardian, but he was a very caring one.

  "Yes, I do," he said. "And don't you ever forget it, madam wife."

  "Autocrat," she threw at him over her shoulder, but she was feeling too much in charity with him to take up the cudgels with any seriousness.

  It was near dawn when Marcus went to his own bed, reflecting that if they continued to burn the candle at both ends in this fashion, they would need a repairing lease in the country before the Season was half done.

  He awoke when Cheveley drew back the curtains on a brilliant sunny morning. Marcus flung aside the covers and stood up, stretching. "My dressing gown, Cheveley."

  The valet held the brocade dressing gown for him. Tying the cord at his waist, Marcus strolled into his wife's apartment. "Good morning, lynx."

  Judith was sitting up in bed, her copper hair tumbling against the piled white pillows. A tray of hot chocolate and sweet biscuits was on the bedside table, and her knees were lost beneath a cloud of prettily penned papers.

  "Good morning, Marcus." She smiled at him over the rim of her cup of chocolate, thinking how pleasant it was to be at peace with her husband.

  "You have a host of admirers, it seems." He bent to kiss the tip of her nose and picked up a handful of the billets-doux, letting them fall back to the bed in a shower. "And a nosegay." The little twist of violets in a chased silver holder lay beside the chocolate pot on the table. He glanced at the card and his face darkened.

  "Gracemere. You must have made a significant impression on him last evening."

  Judith inclined her head in vague acknowledgment. "He writes very pretty cards, at all events. And the violets are so delicate."

  "I don't think it right for you to receive such gifts, Judith."

  Judith sat back against her pillows, remembering for the first time that strange tension between the two men. "In general, or Gracemere in particular?"

  He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

  "I think it does, sir. It's perfectly normal for a woman to receive such little attentions."

  Marcus said nothing, turning instead to walk over to the window, looking out at the square. A group of children under the eye of a nursemaid were playing ball in the railed garden in the center.

  "You don't like Gracemere, do you?" It seemed to Judith that the matter had better be brought into the open quickly.

  "No, Judith, I do not. And you must understand that I will not have the man under my roof under any circumstances."

  "May I ask why?" Her fingers restlessly pleated the coverlet as she tried to see a way through this unexpected tangle.

  "You may ask, but I can't give you an answer. The issue is perfectly simple: you may not count Gracemere among your friends." His voice was level, almost expressionless, as he remained looking down at the children in the square. But he wasn't seeing them. He was seeing Martha as she had been that morning ten years before. His fist clenched and he could almost feel again the cool silver handle of his horse whip nestling in his palm.

  Judith frowned at her husband's back. "Oh, no, my lord, it's not that simple," she said in soft anger. "You cannot issue such a command without a reason."

  Marcus turned from the window. "I can, Judith, and I have," he stated flatly. "And I expect you to comply." He gestured to the pile of correspondence on the bed and softened his tone. "You have so many friends… one less can make little difference."

  Judith thought rapidly. It was a damnably unexpected complication, but it was vital that Gracemere should not become a bone of contention between herself and Marcus. If she threw down the glove, Marcus would definitely pick it up, and there was no knowing to what length he would go to keep her away from her quarry. No… instead of defiance she must lull him into inattention. Gracemere would have to be cultivated out of eyesight and earshot of her husband.

  "I have a suggestion to make," she said in a bland voice, as if the previous conversation had not taken place.

  Marcus, on his guard at this sudden change of tone, raised his eyebrows slightly but said nothing.

  "Supposing you asked me to do you a favor," Judith continued in a musing, conversational manner, playing idly with a copper ringlet on her shoulder. "Supposing you said To please me, my dear wife, would you mind very much avoiding Gracemere like the plague?" A delicately arched eyebrow rose in quizzical inquiry as she regarded her husband's set face, the taut line of his mouth.

  Surprise jumped into his eyes, followed immediately by comprehension, and then his mouth curved in a slow smile. "Point taken, madam wife,
" he said softly. "But I think I can improve on your suggestion." He left her and went into his own apartment, returning after a minute with a bulky parcel.

  He came up to the bed, to where she lay against the pillows, barely able to contain her curiosity. "What is it?"

  "A present," he said with a smile, carefully placing the parcel on the bed. "I've been waiting for a suitable moment to give it to you. Now seems like the moment."

  "It's a bribe!" Judith said on a peal of laughter, eagerly pulling at the string. "Shameless! You would buy my compliance."

  Marcus chuckled, entranced by her gleeful excitement-like a child on Christmas morning, he thought. It occurred to him that an impoverished, helter-skelter childhood wouldn't have included too many presents. The thought produced an unfamiliar tug of tenderness as he took deep pleasure in her delight.

  "Oh, Marcus, it's beautiful," she breathed, tearing off the wrapping to reveal a massive slab of checkered marble. The black squares were almost indigo, the white a translucent ivory. Almost reverently she opened the box containing the chess pieces, heavy, beautifully sculptured marble figures. Her eyes shining, she held the board on her knees and set up the pieces.

  "It's not a bribe," Marcus said softly, watching her. "It's a gift with no strings attached."

  She looked up and smiled at him. "Thank you."

  "And now," he said, bending over her, catching her chin with his forefinger. "Will you do me that favor?"

  "You had only to ask, "she responded with an air of mock dignity.

  She fell back on the pillows under the press of his body, the chess pieces scattering in the folds of the coverlet as he brought his mouth to hers. As she fumbled with the tie of his robe, pushing her hands beneath the material to find his skin, she quieted her conscience with the thought that Marcus would ultimately benefit from her plan to best Gracemere.

  12

  "Well, what do you think, Judith? Could you do it?" As Cornelia leaned forward eagerly, the spindle-legged chair tilted precariously beneath her. She grabbed at the side table, sending it rocking.

  Judith automatically put out a hand to steady the table. "You're asking me to teach you to be gamesters?" There was a bubble of laughter in her voice as she contemplated this delicious prospect and glanced around the room at her three friends.

  "It's a wonderful idea," Isobel said, sipping ratafia. "We all have difficulties about money. Sally because of Jeremy; and Cornelia has to supplement her mother's jointure out of her own allowance; and as for me…" Her mouth tightened and a shadow of distaste crossed her expression. "Henley doles out money to me as if he's doing me the most immense favor, and only after I've asked prettily at least three times. I put off asking for as long as possible because it's so humiliating."

  "I could teach you some things," Judith reflected. "The techniques with the cards… strategies of wagering… things like that. But you have to have nerve, and some natural talent to be really successful."

  "I can't believe I have less talent than Jeremy," Sally said with a resigned chuckle. "He only ever plays hazard, and how can you possibly win with the dice?"

  "You can't," Judith said. "At least, you can't rely upon it. Macao, piquet, quinze, unlimited loo, and whist -although the stakes there are often not high enough to be really satisfying-are the only games to play for winning rather than pure entertainment."

  "I don't think I'm brave enough to play in the hells," Sally went on thoughtfully. "If Jack found out…" She shuddered. "He'd pack me off to the country with the children indefinitely." She glanced at her sister-in-law over the rim of her sherry glass. "Marcus would decide it was the only sensible decision."

  "And Jack always does as his elder brother suggests," Judith agreed dryly. "Marcus has that effect on his nearest and dearest."

  "What happened when he gave you the rubies? I forgot to ask. I was so relieved when I handed them over to Jack, I didn't think I ever wanted to see them again."

  Judith chuckled. "Oh, I expressed suitable astonishment and delight at such a magnificent heirloom, and then told Marcus that actually they would suit your coloring better than mine, so perhaps he should give them back to you."

  "Judith, you didn't!" exclaimed Sally, her eyes widening as the others began to laugh.

  "I did," Judith insisted, laughing too. "It seemed such a delicious little twist. However," she added, "he wouldn't. It wasn't appropriate, or something." She shrugged.

  "We don't have to play in gambling hells to make money, do we?" Isobel returned to the original subject.

  "No," Judith agreed. "One can do quite well at the high-stakes tables at balls and soirees. I do think it's unfair that women can't go into White's or Warier's or Brooks's though," she grumbled. "Did you know the stakes at the Nonesuch almost always start at fifty guineas?" Her voice had a yearning note to it.

  "So you'll teach us?" Cornelia asked.

  "Oh, yes," Judith said. "With the greatest pleasure. We will have a school for gamesters." She refilled their glasses. "A toast, my friends: to women of independent means."

  The door opened on their delighted laughter.

  "Oh, Judith, I beg your pardon." Charlie hovered on the threshold. "I'm intruding."

  Judith took in his hangdog expression, the white shade around his mouth, and immediately held out her hand in invitation. "No, of course you're not, Charlie. Come in. You know everyone, don't you?"

  "How are you, Charlie?" Sally greeted him with a motherly smile, patting the sofa beside her.

  He flung himself down and sighed, gazing morosely into the distance. Judith poured him a glass of sherry. "You've just come from Marcus's book room," she stated.

  Charlie took the glass and drained its contents in one gulp. "I feel as if I've been flayed."

  Sally winced and shot Judith another comprehending glance. Judith raised her eyebrows. "He told me yesterday he knew you were in debt."

  "I had a sure thing at Newmarket-" Charlie began in aggrieved accents.

  "Only of course it wasn't," Judith broke in. It was a familiar story.

  Charlie shook his head. "The cursed screw came in last. I couldn't believe it, Judith."

  "Horses are notoriously unreliable when one's counting upon them. I assume you were?" She leaned back in her deep armchair and sipped her sherry. She'd never been able to understand why anyone would bet tomorrow's dinner on a horse over which one had no control.

  He nodded. "I put my shirt on it. I've had a run of bad luck at the tables, and I was convinced Merry Dancer would help me come about." He hunched over his knees, twisting his hands together, pulling at the fingers until the knuckles cracked.

  Judith frowned. She knew Charlie would come into a princely inheritance when he came of age. "Surely Marcus didn't refuse to advance you enough to cover your debts of honor?" That was an inconceivable thought.

  Charlie stared moodily at the carpet. "After he'd reduced me to the size of a worm, he said he would give me an advance on next quarter's allowance. And I'd have to manage on next to nothing next quarter, but at least I wouldn't find myself obliged to resign from my clubs." He laughed bitterly. "Some comfort that is. I can't possibly eat on what's left. But when I said that, he told me I could go into Berkshire and make myself useful on the estate, and that way I could manage with no expenses."

  "It seems to me wives and wards have much in common," Judith observed, resting her chin on her elbow-propped palm on the arm of her chair.

  "How's that?"

  "Both live under someone else's thumb," she explained aridly.

  "But for a male ward, at least there's an end to the sentence," Cornelia pointed out.

  "I never know whether you're running or not when you talk in such fashion," Charlie said, sighing.

  Judith smiled. "Then you must guess."

  Charlie jumped to his feet and began to pace the salon. "A man's got to play, for God's sake."

  "Yes, but does he have to play as badly as you?" Judith asked with brutal frankness. "Perhaps you should join
our school."

  Chagrin warred with curiosity. The latter won. "What school?"

  Judith explained, watching Charlie's face with ill-concealed merriment.

  "Good God," he said. "You can't be serious. What a scandalous idea."

  "Oh, but we are," Isobel declared, rising to her feet. "Very serious. We have every intention of earning ourselves a degree of financial independence." She drew on her lacy mittens. "I must go, Judith. It's been a most enlivening morning. Can I take you up as far as Mount Street, Cornelia?" She drifted to the door in a waft of filmy muslin.

  "Thank you." Cornelia rose, tripped over her shawl, and sat down again with a thump. "Oh, dear."

  Gregson announced the arrival of Sebastian just as Judith and Isobel bent to untangle Cornelia.

  "Oh, Sebastian, I wasn't expecting you to call." Judith straightened as her brother entered.

  "Well, I think you might have," he said, "since you're forever giving me commissions to execute for you.

  "Now, what in the world do you mean?" Judith frowned.

  Sebastian grinned. "I hope I haven't just bought Grantham's breakdowns for nothing. I could have sworn you asked-"

  "Oh, Sebastian, you have them!" She kissed him soundly. "I didn't think you'd be able to do it so quickly."

  "I have 'em right and tight." He was clearly very pleased with himself. "Only just did it, though. Steffington and Broughton were both after them."

  "You're very clever, love," she said. "Where are they?"

  "I put them up with my own for the moment, since I wasn't quite sure how or when you intended to spring 'em upon Carrington."

  Judith pursed her lips. "Yes," she said. "I'll have to work that one out."

  "What is this, Judith?" Sally refastened the ribbons of her chip-straw hat.

  "Oh, I'm going to drive a perch phaeton and a pair of match-geldings," Judith announced. "Sebastian has procured them for me."

  "That's very dashing," Cornelia said, steady on her feet again. "And I insist on being the first person to drive with you."

  "The pleasure will be all mine." Judith kept to herself the alarming images of Cornelia combined with a high-axled perch phaeton. It didn't bear thinking about. She accompanied her friends down to the hall.