Lady Reluctant

by Maggie Osborne

  In mid-August, Lady Katherine reluctantly agreed the ladies of Grosvenor Square might resume taking the air in Pall Mall. In summer, what society remained in town promenaded along the Mall from seven in the evening until ten, meeting friends, soliciting news, displaying new fashions, and exchanging gossip.

  Aware that Blusette’s presence had been noted and remarked—Lady Katherine had received letters from friends in the country inquiring about “the ravishing creature we’re told is visiting”—Lady Katherine absolutely forbade Blusette to speak to anyone during their parades and promenades. When an introduction could not be avoided, Blusette was instructed to murmur acknowledgment only and was drilled on her curtsies and forms of address.

  To her credit, Blu did not disgrace herself. She did, in fact, perform with diligence and aplomb. If she occasionally moved with unseemly liveliness and peppered her speech with colorful expressions, if a sparkle of amusement or a glare of scorn still darkened her eyes at inappropriate moments—well, as Aunt Tremble pointed out, one could not brew tea without finding a few dregs in the pot.

  Lady Katherine was beginning to reluctantly accept that Blusette’s irrepressible streak could not be squelched. It could only be temporarily concealed. To her vast annoyance, Blusette would race Cecile about in her chair. She would forget herself and erupt into a tirade of swearing. She would discard her corset the first moment she decently could. She would speak her mind when anyone’s definition of discretion demanded otherwise.

  But—Lady Katherine had begun to hope.

  As always, she watched Blusette with sharply critical eyes, ever ready to pounce upon an indiscretion, but remarkably, unbelievably, she had begun to secretly believe social ruin might not be the inevitable result of Blusette’s introduction to society. Gossip would ensue, certainly, and ridicule; by no means did she stretch her illusions to the point of imagining Blusette as a success. But she would not prove a total disgrace either.

  Lady Katherine’s relief was as enormous as her astonishment. For whatever reason—which she sensed had nothing to do with herself or her efforts—Blusette had abruptly ceased all resistance and now applied herself with sincerity and grim resolution. Since early July, her progress had been nothing short of miraculous.

  Seldom were items missing from her plate at mealtimes. To everyone’s surprise, she had begun to solicit information on how to perform properly. She no longer resisted or appeared to resent correction, she insisted upon it and became angry if she learned she had committed a small lapse which had gone ignored.

  Lady Katherine could not account for Blusette’s reformation, but she nightly thanked God for it.

  A few short weeks ago she would have suffered symptoms of nervous collapse as she welcomed the Duke of Dewbury and would have been preoccupied with visions of impending disaster. Now she greeted His Grace with what might almost be described as an air of confidence.

  “I cannot tell you how deeply I appreciate your patience and understanding,” she murmured as Mr. Apple served a Spanish sherry while they waited for the others to join them before dinner. A flush of color brightened her rouge. She hoped Edward understood she was thanking him for never referring in any manner to the story Cecile had confided. “The situation was and is... awkward.”

  Edward bowed before her and raised her fingertips to his lips. “I honor your confidence, Lady Katherine, and pray I prove worthy of your trust.”

  “I cannot doubt it for an instant,” she replied. Not for the first time she looked into Edward’s gaze and thought him as strikingly handsome as his father had been. Years ago Thackary Montmorency had professed himself in love with her and there had been an exchange of letters, some talk of an affair. For a time she had toyed with the idea of taking Thackary as a lover—at that time all her friends had lovers—but in the end, fear of pregnancy had cooled her ardor. If handled discreetly, a lover might be tolerated, but a child by a lover never was. Katherine had walked that path and had suffered the anguish that accompanied it; she had no desire to do so again.

  Still, one had to ponder opportunities missed. Thackary Montmorency had been a man of passion. She gazed at his elegantly handsome son and wondered if the son had inherited more than a title from the father. And if so, how his passion would spend itself if Cecile... But no, she would not allow herself to believe Cecile’s doctors. She would not allow herself the pain of thinking even for a moment that Cecile might miss the joys shared between men and women. Her own joy with Beau Billy Morgan had been of brief duration, but she had at least had the experience.

  “You have been very generous to allow us to use you as an audience for Blusette to practice upon,” she said to Edward.

  An absent frown creased his tanned forehead. “The pleasure is mine.”

  His expression suggested otherwise, Katherine noted curiously. Now that her fears had relaxed and she could think clearly, she cast back her thoughts and suddenly realized His Grace had never seemed entirely at ease in Blusette’s presence. Instantly, she stiffened, annoyed that she had failed to notice this before. The reason was as obvious as the silk roses adorning her gown. Of course a personage of the Duke of Dewbury’s stature would be uncomfortable and impatient in the company of a person with Blusette’s coarse background. More than anyone else, Edward would be aware of Blusette’s flaws. It was likely he seldom if ever discovered himself in social congress with a person of lowly origins.

  Stammering, she murmured something of her insight and offered apologies. “I can’t think why I haven’t realized what an offense this situation must present.” A distress headache began behind her brow. “We have imposed most dreadfully on your understanding and on your generous nature. I can only assure you we do so from necessity.”

  “My dear Lady Katherine,” he said, smiling. “Please don’t exercise yourself. I assure you there has been no offense and no imposition. The experiment has been fascinating, and I applaud your success.”

  Then why did she continue to sense his discomfort? And if he believed she had succeeded with Blusette, why did he watch Blusette with amusement and mockery? And he did, she realized that now.

  Drawing a breath, Katherine uttered words she would have sworn could never pass her lips. “Your Grace, I hope in time Blusette will earn your admiration.” A long shuddering breath swelled against her corset. “As she has earned mine,” There, she had said it. Astonishment and dismay widened her eyes as she realized she had spoken the truth. Slightly dazed, she hurried forward. “Blusette will never entirely be one of us. But if you had observed her the day she arrived, you would be forced to admire and respect the considerable effort she has expended to achieve the remarkable transformation you see before you today.” Lord in heaven, she could not believe what she was saying. “If given a chance, you will discover she possesses great courage and spirit. Once committed to a course, her determination is unshakable.”

  He watched and listened in silence before turning to the doorway as Mouton pushed Cecile into the drawing room, followed by Blusette and Aunt Tremble. Aunt Tremble resolutely kept her gaze riveted to the floor rather than glance at Mouton and risk a faint.

  Katherine fixed a stunned expression on Blusette. She had praised the girl to the Duke of Dewbury. The astonishment of it temporarily robbed her of her senses. She had actually praised this graceless clumsy creature to an esteemed member of the English aristocracy.

  But Blusette was no longer graceless or clumsy.

  Katherine watched with some confusion as Blusette sank into a faultless curtsy before His Grace and murmured a greeting. King George himself could not have found cause for complaint.

  Feeling light-headed, she groped behind her for a chair and sat abruptly. In silence, she observed the interchange between Aunt Tremble and the young people. And in her state of sharpened awareness, Katherine discovered something interesting and disturbing.

  Although Blusette continued to assure Cecile that she esteemed the Duke of Dewbury and although Edward appeared to graciously acce
pt Blusette—they disliked each other intensely. The moment they came together, the air quivered with tension. Katherine felt a witless fool for having failed to notice that which now seemed so blatantly and painfully obvious.

  Though Blusette spoke with utter correctness, her attitude toward Edward challenged and—Katherine sucked in a shocked breath—was almost superior. Belying her polite words, Blusette’s dark eyes gleamed with thinly concealed hostility, as if she deeply resented His Grace.

  In answer, Edward silently mocked her as if to say she could never hope to attain the pinnacle she sought. In fascinated horror, Katherine observed Edward’s cool amusement as Blusette demurely refused Cecile’s entreaties to play an air on the pianoforte.

  In the quirk of an eyebrow, Edward’s amusement shifted to challenge. Blusette’s chin rejected his challenge as beneath her. His Grace’s slight smile revealed he expected her to decline. A tiny lift of Blusette’s shoulders stated she hardly cared what he might expect. A nearly invisible nod of Edward’s head conceded the point but disbelieved she had any ability on the pianoforte. Of a sudden, Blusette jumped to her feet, rushed to the pianoforte, and fingered a light tune. While Tremble and Cecile applauded, she flashed a look of triumph toward His Grace. His Grace inclined his head in acknowledgment then laughed aloud. A furious blush heated Blusette’s cheeks.

  By the time Mr. Apple announced dinner, Katherine’s head ached and she felt exhausted. Scarcely a word had passed between Blusette and Edward, yet Katherine felt as if everyone present had been assaulted by a barrage of violent words and emotion.

  She hadn’t the faintest notion how to correct the situation nor what might have caused it.

  Now that she was aware of their dislike, she could see nothing else as she observed them. She could only marvel that Tremble and Cecile seemed so blithely unaware of the emotional friction exploding all about them.

  “Shall we sup, Miss Morgan?”

  There was nothing at all amiss with Edward’s question, Katherine thought, it was perfectly acceptable. But Blu bristled as if at an insult and her dark eyes flashed with unmistakable anger.

  Then: “Is the wine too weak for your taste, Miss Morgan?”

  “Not at all, Your Grace.” Her lashes narrowed. “I find bordeaux stimulating. Pray tell us what stimulates Your Grace, if anything does.”

  Katherine reviewed it word for word and could discover nothing in Blusette’s remarks to account for Edward’s tight features nor for the scorn curling Blusette’s mouth.

  “Yes, Edward,” Cecile said, teasing him. “Do tell us what stimulates your jaded tastes.”

  Turning to Cecile, he smiled and answered, “A beautiful woman fresh from the bath and smelling of roses. The color green. Sunlight on water. A good cigar. A fine wine. A worthy ship.” Still not looking at Blusette, he smiled as Cecile laughed.

  “Aside from the bath and roses, I could have guessed.”

  Ordinarily, Katherine would have been looking at Cecile and she would not have seen Blusette’s sudden dark scowl. It was incomprehensible. Neither of them could speak—not of the most innocent subjects—without the other taking offense.

  “Katherine, are you ailing? You haven’t spoken three words tonight,” Aunt Tremble remarked. Katherine did not reply. She was watching Blusette.

  Blusette lifted her fork in such a way as to call attention to it. His Grace rolled twinkling dark eyes to the ceiling. Flushing, Blusette gracefully impaled a morsel of meat then, after looking to see that he watched, she closed her lips around the tines and one eyebrow lifted in supreme triumph. Edward actually chuckled aloud. Which infuriated Blusette. Which Edward appeared to enjoy.

  “What?” Katherine asked when Aunt Tremble spoke in a louder voice. “No, no, Tremble, I am not ill.”

  Entire conversations swirled silently around her, unheard and unseen by any but herself and the participants. And she hadn’t a notion what was being said or why.

  Later, when Monsieur had joined them in the drawing room for coffee, while the air crackled with unspoken words and unseen friction, Katherine chanced to observe Monsieur in an unguarded moment. Her mouth dropped, then quickly closed.

  She was not imagining the silent discourse and she was not alone in her observation. Monsieur saw it too. And she understood from his worried expression that what occurred disturbed him as deeply as it did herself.

  “It is dreadfully hot tonight,” she stated of a sudden, twirling her fan. “If we were not exhausted, Tremble, I would suggest a stroll in the garden. It must be cooler there.

  “Are we exhausted?” Aunt Tremble asked, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “A turn in the garden sounds—”

  “What an excellent idea,” Katherine interrupted. “You young people must do as Tremble suggests.” She made a shooing motion with her fingertips, directing them to the French doors leading outside. She waited until they reached the doors before she called, “Cecile, my dear, may I have a word with you?” Forcing her lips upward, she smiled at Blusette and His Grace. “Do go on, Mouton will bring Cecile along in a moment.”

  Perhaps the source of the problem was they did not know each other well enough to overcome and forgive the disparity of background. If they were occasionally made to discourse in private, surely Blusette would eventually recognize Edward’s charm and worth, and surely Edward would eventually succumb to Blusette’s vitality. A little time might be required, but surely it was possible to achieve a measure of peace between them.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  She regarded Cecile, then decided upon the truth. “My dear. Have you observed a certain—how shall I phrase this?—a certain awkwardness between Edward and Blusette?” When Cecile reluctantly admitted she had, Katherine nodded and pursed her lips. “Has Blusette indicated any reason why she might dislike Edward?”

  “She claims to admire him very much,” Cecile frowned and looked toward the door with a sigh. “But I fear she says so for my sake. I can’t think what might be the cause of their distance, but it distresses me greatly. I love them both, Mama, and do so want them to get on well together.”

  Aunt Tremble smiled and rapped her cane on the floor. “Katherine, you sly fox. You deliberately sent them into the garden alone.”

  “Oh, Mama! How clever of you.” Cecile’s eyes brightened as she understood. “But of course. We must give them opportunity to recognize each other’s qualities.” Leaning forward, she kissed Katherine’s cheek.

  “I wonder,” Monsieur said softly, then looked startled as he realized he had spoken aloud.

  Having forgotten his presence, they turned in his direction.

  “But of course they must come to terms,” Cecile assured him. “Dear Monsieur, from this point forward our lives will be intertwined. Blusette and Edward will be sister and brother. Is it wrong to hope they will love each other as much as I love them both?”

  He did not answer.

  Katherine regarded him with a thoughtful expression. “You believe mud and marble cannot mix, Monsieur?”

  “With respect, Madame, I worry if they should.”

  “You speak in riddles, Monsieur,” Aunt Tremble complained crossly. “I don’t care for riddles.”

  They did not speak again until they heard the murmur of voices in the garden, then the women smiled conspiratorially.

  “We shall give them a few more minutes before you join them,” Katherine decided, glancing toward the darkness beyond the French doors. “Tell me, my dear, do your legs pain you?”

  “No, Mama.”

  “When you can ride again, we shall go to Islington for a canter around Mr. Jones’s farm. Do you remember our excursion last year?”

  “Dear Mama,” Cecile said quietly. “If you wait until I can walk, you shall never ride again.”

  “I won’t have you speak so, Cecile. The doctors could be mistaken.” She lifted her head high. “As I was saying, when you can walk and ride again, we shall—”

  “Oh my!” Aunt Tremble exclaimed, clapping a hand to her br
east. “We haven’t taught Blusette to ride!”

  They looked at each other, then Katherine released a long sigh. There was no end to the possible pitfalls. If she could overlook something as obvious as riding lessons, what else might she have forgotten?

  ~ ~ ~

  “You doubted I could play the pianoforte, didn’t you?” Blu murmured, daring him to deny it.

  Carefully not touching, they strolled side by side along the dark graveled path. The scent of summer roses permeated the night heat, reminding her of rose-scented soap and a tropical night from a lifetime ago. Like tonight, the moon had been full, a pale lemony wheel that cast Thomas’s gray eyes in shadow and raised a dark sheen to the hair waving back from his brow.

  “I admit your accomplishments astound me, Miss Morgan,” he conceded, his voice teasing.

  “Dammit, Thomas. Admit it. You were wrong.” Her chin lifted and she gave him a haughty look down the length of her nose. “Despite your predictions, I am now a bleeding lady!”

  “Ah, a bleeding lady. Indeed.” His laughter set her teeth on edge.

  Moonlight concealed her angry blush. What was there about him that caused her to revert to habits she had believed vanquished? She knew better than to say “bleeding.” Just once, she thought, grinding her teeth, she wished to shatter his elegance and superiority. Life being what it was, someone would best him sometime. All she wanted was to be that person. To visit upon him the same rejection and humiliation he had foisted on her.

  They turned past Lady Katherine’s prized roses and the moonlight fell full across his smiling naked lips. “I’ll grant this much. No one meeting you for the first time would guess the distance you have traveled.”

  “I know,” she agreed with great satisfaction. She had imagined this admission a dozen times. After a pause, she added, “Thank you for saying so.”

  “Beau Billy would be proud.”

  “Aye,” she agreed softly. They reached the bottom of the garden and she turned at the stone fence to discover he was watching her. When she thought she would drown in his steady gaze, she swallowed and frowned down at her fan. “Why are you staring at me?”