by Sara Bennett
She turned back to Tina, her eyes still bright, and spoke in an agitated way. “Do not tell Charles. He is not levelheaded like you. He wouldn’t be able to cope. I want to keep this awful news from him for as long as possible.”
“Father should not have told me to get a new dress for the theater. We cannot afford it, I see that now. I will take it back.”
She made as if to get up, but her mother put a hand on her arm to prevent her. “No, Tina. You must have one new dress for the summer, and who knows, perhaps you will find a wealthy husband to fall in love with you.” She laughed shakily, as if she were making a joke, but there was no humor in it. “You are a lovely girl, and beauty has been enough to bring men to the altar before.”
“Mama—”
“Horace is a very wealthy young man.”
“Yes. Mama—”
But Lady Carol was not to be stopped. “If Horace were to propose to you, then your father and I would approve of the marriage. There is no question that we would be very happy indeed with such a match.”
“Marry Horace?” For a moment Tina wondered whether her mother had read her mind. “But—”
However Lady Carol was resolved to say her piece.
“It is our hope, Tina, that you and Horace . . . and of course it would solve all our problems . . .” She bit her lip. “Oh listen to me! This mess is not of your making, and you should not be asked to fix it. Please, Tina, forget what I said. I’m sure we will find some other way to escape the Fleet.”
The name hung over them like a monstrous black cloud. The Fleet, London’s debtors’ prison.
Tina tried to order her scattered thoughts. She knew now what her mother wanted to hear, needed to hear. Should she tell her the truth? That she’d already begun a scheme to marry Horace? But no. Lady Carol had enough to worry about, and despite their desperate straits she wasn’t convinced her mother would approve of the infamous Mr. Eversham and his lessons in love.
No, reassurance was what was needed here.
“I want to marry Horace more than anything in the world, Mama. I’ve always loved him.”
Lady Carol clasped her hands and gave a shaky little laugh. “But that is marvelous, Tina!” But her obvious relief and excitement quickly faded. “But does Horace feel the same way? Perhaps we shouldn’t get our hopes up too high?”
“No, he doesn’t feel the same way. He thinks of me as a friend.” She saw her mother’s face fall even further, and hastened to add, “But I am trying my best to persuade him otherwise, Mama. Believe me, if it is at all possible, Horace and I will be husband and wife before . . .” Before the bailiffs arrived to toss them out of Mallory Street. “Before too long.”
Lady Carol gave her a searching look while Tina attempted to appear innocent of any whiff of scandalous behavior.
“Tina, when you say you are trying to persuade him to marry you, I do hope you are not being reckless? It is vital that you keep him at arm’s length. By all means give him a glimpse of what you have to offer, but do not let him touch. A man will not buy what he can have for free.”
“Mama, really!” Tina cried, taken aback by her mother’s uncharacteristic bluntness. This was not the sort of conversation they had ever had together.
“I’m sorry if I’ve shocked you, darling, but there are some things you don’t learn at finishing school, and I’d rather you hear them from me than have to experience the hard facts for yourself. More than one young woman has ruined herself by trusting the wrong man with her virtue. And frankly, Tina, without the dowry you might have had, your looks and your virtue are all you have to bargain with.”
“I can assure you, Mama, I have no intention of allowing Horace to take liberties with me,” Tina said self-righteously, while the voice in her head was whispering, Liar.
Her mother continued in that awful earnest, worried tone until Tina felt like squirming. “You are such an innocent.”
“Horace would never—”
Lady Carol’s smile was forced. “Would he not? Well, you know him best, I suppose. I’m sorry to worry. I can’t seem to help it these days.”
Affectionately, she leaned to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Just be careful, darling. I’ll leave you to your rest now.”
Tina wondered how she was supposed to rest.
Her mind was turning in circles.
What if she was making a terrible mistake? Was she going too far with her plans to make Horace notice her? Perhaps her mother was right, and he wasn’t the sort of man to be trusted with a pretty girl. There had been some talk about a shopkeeper’s daughter although until now Tina had dismissed that as mere gossip. Would Horace wantonly ruin a girl’s reputation?
She jumped up and went to the wardrobe, where her new dress hung. The cloth was beautiful, the fit perfect, but the neckline was very low. What if Horace thought she was ripe for the picking? It was all very well to flutter one’s eyelashes like a courtesan, but Tina didn’t want to give the impression she would like to be one!
If Horace believed he could have her without the wedding vows, would he let any gentlemanly concerns prevent him? And yet she could not believe Horace was the sort of man to treat a friend with such contempt. Even as she protested, she found herself with a doubt. She’d just been telling herself she didn’t know what Horace did with his time, that she didn’t know him as well as she’d thought. Could she really trust him with her virtue?
And yet what choice did she have but to carry on with her husband hunting? Horace was the only man she’d ever wanted to marry, and marrying him would be the perfect solution to the Smythes’ troubles. No, she had no choice, but perhaps there was something she could do to calm her nerves where the dress was concerned.
Rummaging through her wardrobe she found what she wanted—a silk shawl in a paisley pattern, mostly cream in color, which matched the cream lace on the green dress. She draped it about her shoulders and bosom and peered anxiously at her reflection.
She couldn’t help worrying about this evening. She had enjoyed the scene she had acted out with Richard Eversham, but now she wasn’t sure she could behave like that with Horace and his friends. Charles would make fun of her, and she would be mortified if Horace thought it funny to see his “little sister” make such a spectacle of herself. It was different with Richard Eversham—she’d known him such a short time, and yet she felt very comfortable in his presence. She trusted him.
That is because it is a business arrangement.
Well, whatever it was, he made her feel safe—that she could do whatever she wanted, and he would still not think badly of her.
So what would she do at the soiree? Would she go through with her plans or not?
Tina smiled a little grimly. Of course she would. The simple truth was she had no choice.
“Why, Mr. Eversham, I didn’t expect to see you here!”
All about them the theater hummed with excited patrons. He bowed over her hand, his breath warm through the thin evening glove. For some reason she was wearing a diamond headpiece, almost a crown, and diamonds swung from her earlobes and glittered from her fingers. She was quite awash with them.
“I needed to see you, Miss Smythe. I could not wait.”
He was holding her hand for far too long, and yet when he moved closer, almost embracing her, Tina did not push him away. His lips brushed her temple, and she gasped. Several people around her gasped, too. She heard them begin to gossip, and yet she didn’t care.
“You are far too beautiful to marry Horace Gilfoyle,” Richard Eversham declared, his deep voice vibrating within her in places she’d never paid much attention to before.
Tina placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. “But I must. I love Horace.”
“I can make you love me,” Mr. Eversham said with an arrogance her dream self found breathlessly exciting. His mouth hovered over hers, his lips so close that if she swayed just a fraction, they would be kissing.
“Oh,” she said, although it was more like a moan. “Oh, Richard . .
.”
“Miss Tina, it’s time to get ready!”
Reluctantly and somewhat ashamed of her dream self, Tina woke up.
Chapter 7
“Miss Tina, it’s time to get up. And you have a letter—hand delivered!”
Tina opened her eyes, yawned, and stretched. “Maria,” she said with a smile. After finding the shawl, she’d lain down again on her bed and actually fallen asleep. And she’d been dreaming. Her smile wavered and disappeared altogether. She’d been dreaming of flirting outrageously with Richard Eversham!
The dream was fading, but the feelings it had engendered remained.
Uncomfortable with the direction of her thoughts she sought to cast Mr. Eversham from her mind, but almost immediately he was back again.
“Your letter, miss.”
She took the letter from Maria and broke the seal. A single sheet of paper covered in bold black script, and signed “Eversham.” Tina felt a little frisson of shock and, seeing Maria watching her, turned away for more privacy.
“Are you quite sure this is the dress you want to wear, miss?” Maria said doubtfully.
“Yes,” Tina answered firmly, and returned to her letter.
Miss Smythe, I wish you the best with your venture at the theater; be assured I will be thinking of you. If it helps, I want you to imagine me standing at your shoulder, whispering encouragement in your ear. I have set aside some time for another appointment tomorrow at 2 o’clock, if that is acceptable to you. I look forward to our next encounter. Eversham.
Tina felt a shiver run over her skin, as if Mr. Eversham really was standing at her shoulder, whispering in her ear. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to imagine him doing that. She certainly wasn’t sure she wanted to have him in her dreams. In fact she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be doing any of this at all.
But when she saw herself in the floor-length mirror in her new dress, with her hair pinned up and the loose curls Maria had created framing her face, her confidence returned. Horace would not dare to laugh at this woman. Maria fastened her jade necklace around her neck, and she felt beautiful, for the first time happy with herself. She had frequently wished herself to be taller and slimmer, but she could see now that she had grown into an attractive woman. She told herself in her practical way that she would wear the shawl, but only until she was comfortable enough to remove it.
This was not the time for false modesty or coy missishness.
Her family’s future, as well as her own happiness, rested on her actions tonight.
“You look beautiful, miss,” Maria said quietly from the shadows behind her. “I am sure all the gentlemen will think so.”
Tina tried to read her maid’s expression in her reflection. Did Maria know about Horace? Did Maria know about her father’s financial catastrophe? How could the servants not realize how dire the situation was becoming—they must be afraid of losing their positions in the Smythe household.
Perhaps tonight would see all that change.
Downstairs in the sitting room her mother admired her new dress, and to Tina’s relief said nothing about the shawl she was wearing. “You look lovely, darling. Doesn’t she, Thomas?” Carol turned to her husband, who was reading his newspaper.
Sir Thomas looked over the rims of his glasses and grunted. “Hmm. Too good for that lot.”
“Thomas!”
“You know it’s true. Most of those young wasters come by their wealth far too easily. They should be doing something constructive with their lives. Put them into my old regiment—give them some discipline. That would keep them occupied usefully instead of spending their days gambling and worse.”
It was so unfair that this disaster had happened to her father through his being too trusting. He’d believed the investment his friend had convinced him to undertake was foolproof, and this was the result. Now he’d grown suspicious and bitter of all wealthy men.
“Thomas, you like Horace, you know you do.”
“Humph.”
“Tina is waiting.”
“Yes, yes, you look beautiful, Tina. Just like your mother.” He stood up and kissed her cheek. “Enjoy the theater,” he added for good measure.
Tina could see that the poor man was trying very hard to be cheerful for her sake.
“Thank you, Father. I’m glad you like Horace,” she added, with a sideways glance at her mother.
Tina couldn’t help but wonder what her father’s opinion would be of a man like Richard Eversham and the way he made his living. Best not to think of it, she decided with a shudder. They would never meet so the problem would never arise.
Just then Charles came running down the stairs and barely glanced at her. “Ready, Tina?” He noted the time on the longcase clock. “We should get a move on.”
“Yes, Charles. I’m ready.”
They walked out together to the waiting coach. Tina found herself considering how much the vehicle was worth, and at what point that, too, would have to be sold, and then she told herself to stop it. Tonight she must concentrate on her quest for Horace and forget about everything else.
Charles was shuffling about impatiently in his seat, and it wasn’t long before they arrived at Horace’s Bell Street town house. Tonight there was a wash of light from the windows and open door, welcoming his guests inside.
It was a tall, grand building and had belonged to the Gilfoyles for many years. Horace, having inherited his fortune so early—his parents had died in a boating accident when he was a child—had lived here most of his life.
Tina took a deep breath—as deep as her corset would allow—and stepped over the threshold. Tentatively she imagined Richard Eversham at her side, and it helped, so she kept him there. Horace was nowhere to be seen, but there were several familiar faces, and she drifted toward a group of young women with whom she was acquainted.
“Clementina!” said Anne Burgess. “There you are, at last.”
“Charles made us late,” Tina said, with a teasing grin in her brother’s direction.
Charles pretended to frown. “Humph. How do you do, Anne? Looking as beautiful as ever.”
Anne smiled back at him. She was a very attractive blonde. Tall and slim and elegant, she wore a royal blue dress that matched her eyes. She attracted the attention of a great many males, without, it seemed to Tina, any deliberate effort at all. Tina and Charles had known her almost as long as they had Horace, and she was always so nice, it was impossible to dislike her.
Unless, of course, she was here because Horace had a special interest in her, thought Tina. How cruel that would be, when she had gone to so much trouble and expense to try to capture that interest for herself.
At her shoulder Richard Eversham told her to show more confidence in her own abilities, and she immediately felt better.
A moment later Horace arrived through a side door, alone, and looking flustered and upset. She had never seen him like that and was so surprised she said nothing, simply watching as he straightened his waistcoat and brushed back a lock of fair hair. An expression of delighted welcome settled over his face, almost as if he had put on a mask, and he strode into the room to greet his guests.
There was a group of young men nearby, and he was soon laughing with them and slapping their backs as if he hadn’t seen them for years. Then he went to the pianoforte and spoke to the pianist, after which, to Tina’s surprise, Horace began to sing, a ditty about the life of a beggar being an easier one than that of a workingman. He sang it with a great deal of gusto.
“Horace is in good voice tonight,” Anne murmured, as Charles and another friend joined him, roaring the words in a less-than-tuneful fashion.
Tina thought Horace was behaving very oddly tonight, but she merely smiled.
Others were taking their turn at singing around the pianoforte, and Horace made his way over to Tina and Anne although, to Tina’s dismay, his gaze did seem to linger on her lovely friend.
“What do you think, ladies? The life of a beggar might be far simpler than w
orking for a living, might it not?”
Tina gave him a doubtful look. “Do you actually know anyone who works for a living, Horace?”
“Hmm, my servants work. Some of them better than others,” he added darkly.
“And do you suppose that they would be better off as beggars?” Tina asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice. What did Horace know of poverty? It was all a game to him. He’d never experienced it, not even a little bit. At least Tina could tell herself she now knew something of the misery of doing without.
Anne added her calming influence to the conversation. “It’s just a silly song and mustn’t be taken seriously. We should always remember the poor and do what we can to help. Don’t you agree, Tina?”
“Yes, of course,” Tina said, but she felt a little sad. She had changed. Her circumstances had changed her. She would never be able to have a lighthearted conversation again without this feeling inside her of being apart from her friends.
What would they say if they knew she was about to become one of the poor they were speaking about? What if they were to find out that beneath her lovely and fashionable new dress her petticoat was darned because it had holes in it, and she couldn’t afford to buy another? Or that her slippers were scuffed at the toes, and Maria had colored in the bare spots to disguise them?
“My family often attends charity events,” Anne said earnestly. “I think everyone should consider those less fortunate than themselves.”
The conversation had clearly become too earnest for Horace. “Now, ladies. Champagne!” He summoned a passing servant, and both Tina and Anne accepted a glass. “You both look exceptionally lovely tonight.”
Anne smiled and accepted the compliment as her due and although Tina did likewise, she was certain Horace was simply mouthing words to be polite. He did not mean them. There was no special glint to his eye or smile to his lips when he looked at her; there was nothing to say he found her any more attractive than he had when they were five years old.