by Joan Vincent
“Good sleep, Audee.”
She nodded. After Helene was gone she sat before her looking glass. “So . . . shortness is the current style.” She twisted and pulled her hair. “Then shortness is what you shall have.” Gritting her teeth, she took hold a handful of hair and cut. “There is no stopping now,” she told herself. Her raven locks fell unheeded, soon covered Helene’s tawny ones.
* * * *
Daniel Aderly lurched drunkenly away from the gaming table.
Picking up his co-signed marks, Patrick Darby sauntered after him. He signalled the waiter to bring a bottle of port to the table where Daniel had collapsed. “Take a drink,” young Darby urged, “it is just the thing you need.”
“How much—much have I lost?” Daniel sputtered, raising his head from his arms.
“Not too much, do not fear. I have signed for all your losses,” Patrick assured him. “Drink,” he prompted once again. “Then we shall move on—a change is all that is needed to alter your luck.”
Quaffing the glass of port, Daniel nodded. His bemused brain held no other thought than the necessity to recoup his losses.
“I’ll bring the port,” Darby said, rising and prodding Daniel stand. “At the next gaming hell your luck will surely change.” Motioning for the footman to assist the lad, he followed him to the waiting coach. A well-satisfied leer marked his features.
Chapter 16
The last curl was finished for Helene when Lady Darby was heard humming in the hall outside Audacia’s bedroom. “Good morn, my dear . . . eeeek! ‘Pon my soul, what have you done to yourselves?” she exclaimed, her supremely happy expression transposed into one of utter alarm.
“Miss Bea,” Audacia cried as she ran to catch the swooning viscountess.
“I told you her ladyship would go into hysterics,” the abigail scolded as she ran into the room and helped Audacia support Lady Darby.
“Come, my lady, lie down for a few moments. I have my vinaigrette right here.” She pulled a small bottle of Potter and Moore smelling salts from her apron pocket and handed it to Helene to open.
One sniff was enough to restore Lady Darby. She sat upright, her discomfiture. “Audacia, what have you done! What am I to do? And Lady Lucille will be here any moment. Oh, dear me. How could you?” she wailed.
“Mother.” Helene waved the smelling salts past Lady Darby’s nose to get her attention. “What do you think of me?”
“Out of my way, Helene. This is not the time for your childishness. Isn’t it enough Audacia has done such an outrageous deed.”
“But Mother, look at my hair,” the young girl implored with tears threatening.
“Helene does look very charming, doesn’t she?” Audacia asked pointedly, putting her arm about the girl’s shoulders.
“You have taken part in this nonsense also,” Lady Darby exclaimed, at last noticing that Helene’s tawny mane was also gone. Her eyes narrowed.
“Why . . . I do believe it is an improvement. Yes.” She rose from the bed and turned her daughter about, critically inspecting each angle. “It is. You may even be said to be comely,” the viscountess told a beaming Helene.
“But for you, young lady.” She turned accusing eyes turned to Audacia. “What are we to do?”
“A slight curl about the face would improve it, my lady,” Miss Bea cautiously offered.
“Lady Lucille will be coming soon. Is there time to achieve some semblance of looks?”
“What is this about Lady Lucille? I have made no plans with her,” Audacia said, interrupting a discussion for which she had no liking.
“Oh, dear, did I forget to mention it? Lady Mandel suggested at Almack’s that you and Lady Lucille go on an excursion of the city. Her daughter is familiar with all the popular sights. Well, you had only managed to see the Tower since our arrival and I knew you would be so pleased . . . but now . . . Surely now you shan’t want to go—to be seen?”
“Lady Lucille’s hair is only slightly longer than mine,” Audacia defended with a note of belligerence.
“All the young ladies are wearing their hair like this,” Helene said earnestly. “Everyone—look at this,” she urged scooping up the La Belle Assemble magazine from the vanity and holding it out to her mother. The a la Diana etching on the cover was proof of her words.
“Ready the curling irons,” Lady Darby ordered as she gazed at the picture. “Perhaps this is not a disaster,” she reprimanded Audacia. “Hurry. I wish you ready when Lady Lucille calls.” With a shake of her head she forestalled the question on the other’s lips. “Do not tarry. The Mandels are an important family. We must not displease them in any way.”
“Them,” thought Audacia. Is Lord Greydon to come also? Chagrin swooped over her and she reached to touch curls now gone.
“It is rewarding to see you show some concern over your actions,” Lady Darby noted smugly. “Hurry with those curling irons . . . and not too hot either,” the viscountess ordered Miss Bea. Motioning at Helene to follow her, she marched from the room.
The abigail followed, heaving a sigh, and Audacia confronted her looking glass. The reality of day clouded the hope reflected in the night.
* * * *
“Where did you say my son was staying’?” Sir Aderly asked Ballin.
“On Grosvenor,” replied the languid valet patiently, at Lord Hillern’s bachelor quarters.”
“Yes, that is it. Can’t seem to get that boy’s name in mind. Well, let us go there first, then. I wish to see how he has fared. Find a hackney. I’ll be along directly.”
Straightening from his relaxed pose, Ballin drained his ale and hurried from the ale room to the enclosed courtyard of the White Swan. Several coaches were assembled; some taking on passengers while others were at the end of their journey. Grooms, harnessed teams, and travellers of all sorts and sizes filled the area with noisy chatter and clatter.
Wending through to the street, Ballin hired one of the many waiting cabs and had transferred the baggage by the time Sir Aderly appeared.
“Would ye not prefer to stop by Lord Darby’s first?” Ballin asked with overt casualness and inner hope. “It is a wee bit early for a young gentleman on his first visit to London to be roused out,” he noted.
“Must be nigh near noon,” Sir Aderly returned. “I trust my son has not been cavorting about like any ordinary jackanapes. He’s always been steady in his ways.”
The housekeeper at the address on Grosvenor would do little more than raise her nose at Ballin and repeat that the young man had not returned as yet. “I’ve not seen the viscount or that Mr. Aderly for nigh two days. Not uncommon for young bucks,” she clucked. “But this is a respectable house. They do their misbehavin’ elsewhere,” she ended and shut the door in his face.
“Let us arrange for rooms at Pulteney’s,” Sir Maurice ordered when the valet reported Daniel’s absence. “Good lad. Knew he’d be about the business of the day. As soon as we are settled in, you can take word of our arrival to Lord Darby and inform him I shall call upon them this eve.” He settled his large frame as comfortably as he could in the small hackney.
“It will be good to see them both. You were quite right, Ballin. This small interruption of our work shall enable us to attack the problems with renewed vigour when we return home.”
While Sir Aderly voiced his satisfaction, Ballin could but question the wisdom of their journey. Now he was becoming convinced that his misgivings were well founded.
* * * *
Audacia’s hand froze on the knob. The voices on the other side of the receiving salon’s doors told of Lord Greydon’s presence. She stamped her foot in annoyance at her sudden hesitation.
This is ridiculous. What do you care what the man thinks, she scolded herself lightly under her breath.
Your aim is to give the man a set down, came the mental reminder. Geoffrey’s laughter ended her indecision.
The squire was the first to see her. He halted in mid-word. “My lord,” he said dumbly, causing all in the
salon to turn their attention to a very uncomfortable Audacia.
“You have joined us at last, my dear,” Lady Darby twittered nervously in the ensuing silence.
Greydon bowed, his face impassive under Audacia’s challenging glare, while Geoffrey continued to stare. “Never thought you to be one for these wild ladies’ notions of style,” he spoke at last, causing her to blush.
“Does become you, rather . . . well.” He stumbled for an appropriate end while Audacia’s checks grew redder.
“We had better be off,” Lady Lucille said to rescue both of them and rose. “The sun shall become too warm if we tarry too long. I do hope you are not too fatigued from all the Season’s exertions,” she said to Audacia. “We have a very full day planned. Squire Webster even arranged to have a picnic packed for us.”
“That shall be a most pleasant treat,” Audacia answered, giving Lady Lucille a smile of appreciation.
“Roland thought you might enjoy strolling through Kensington Gardens,” Geoffrey threw in, recovering from the shock of Audacia’s altered looks, “so it had to be a picnic.”
Leave-taking began, and it so chanced that Lord Greydon fell in step beside Audacia as they walked from the salon.
“I daresay you consider Kensington a large enough area to assure the safety of your feet,” Audacia quipped. “I wonder at your daring in consenting to my company.”
“For a friend such as Geoffrey I have braved many lesser dangers,” Greydon replied, the hint of a humorous twinkle in his eye. “I could not in honour shrink from this greater one.”
“Then perhaps you should consider tempering your friendship, for can one be called friend who foists such an onerous task upon you?” Audacia returned coldly, her colour rising at his lordship’s implication.
“Even onerous tasks may have hidden . . . rewards,” the earl noted gravely.
Audacia fell silent and pondered his meaning.
* * * *
“I congratulate you, Squire Webster . . . Geoffrey.” Lady Lucille smiled shyly as she handed him the apple she had just halved. “It was an excellent repast.”
“If it pleased you, then I am well rewarded for my small efforts,” he answered and looked closely at her before taking the apple.
Having grown steadily more aware of the interest the two exhibited in each other as the day progressed, Audacia decided it called for the supreme sacrifice. “Lord Greydon, since it was you who chose the site of our luncheon, would you consent to show me more of the gardens?”
“After a feast such as we have enjoyed ambling about could prove most beneficial,” Roland agreed with surprising speed, springing to his feet and he held out his hand to assist her to rise.
A look of regret flickered across Lady Lucille’s face as she made to rise also.
“No, sister,” Lord Roland bantered. “With your birdlike appetite you can have no need of exercise. Those among us who . . . enjoy food have the need. Remain with Geoffrey, I am quite able to escort Miss Aderly.” He ignored Audacia’s answering frown and proffered his arm.
“Please do remain,” Audacia added, “we shall manage.” She flashed a warning smile to Greydon. “I doubt that we shall have need of chaperonage with so many others present. The pace shall be slow . . . so as not to tire his lordship unduly,” she ended archly and placed her hand on Greydon’s arm.
“Will they ever have a friendly exchange?” Lady Lucille asked as the two walked away. “I know not if their bantering is genuine or feigned.”
“I see it as a certain sign that they are interested in one another,” the squire returned casually.
“Roland has shown an unusual tolerance for Audacia. Not outwardly, or even consciously, but . . . I fear I speak of matters you would rather let lie.”
“What nonsense is that? I have noticed his interest,” Geoffrey laughed.
“Are you distressed because of it?” she asked, lowering her eyes and plucking nervously at the grass upon which they sat.
“Distressed? No, I see no reason to be distressed. Audacia is level-headed despite the new coiffure,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll trust she knows where her best interests lie.
“ But let us speak of you. Did I not overhear Roland tell Audacia you spend some hours each week at the Chelsea Hospital?” he asked leaning forward. Tell me of your work,” he said eagerly.
Lady Lucille’s heart leapt. For the first time she dared to hope he might return her love once again.
* * * *
Noticing that the neatly trimmed parallel hedges they were walking between concealed them from everyone in the gardens, Audacia removed her hand from Roland’s arm and halted.
The earl took a few more steps, then turned and gave her a questioning look as she squared her shoulders. “My lord, I have endured your wit only for the sake of my friend and your sister. But we are now somewhat alone and as this shall, I trust, be a rare circumstance, I feel compelled to take exception to your quips given at my expense.” Raising her skirts slightly, and gathering courage as he cocked an eyebrow at her, Audacia stalked forward and placed a well-aimed booted foot against his shins.
Shock, pain, and then indignation played across Roland’s face. “I know you are far from ordinary, but I had not guessed you to be daft. Would you explain your action,” he demanded, limping toward her retreating figure.
“It is little enough for the—the enjoyment you had at my expense last winter,” she retorted.
“Enjoyment? Our concepts of the pleasurable are vastly different, Miss Aderly,” Greydon bit out. He reached down to rub his shin. “Taking a devil of a chill is no profitable reward for rescuing a very cold, wet ‘lad.’”
A fierce blush rose across Audacia’s cheeks. “Am I to be forever taunted? Why do you not shout out to the world what you have done?” She waved her hand agitatedly, her voice rising. “Tell how you took advantage of—”
“I have never taken advantage of anyone.” Greydon stalked forward prodded by a sudden surge of temper.
Courage fled as quickly as it had surged. Audacia turned and ran.
The earl followed, his long-legged lope much faster than her ragged, skirt-hampered run. Reaching her just as she came abreast a huge aged oak, he caught her shoulder and spun her to face him. Both hands pinned her against the tree.
Trapped, Audacia’s spirit rallied as she met his gaze. “Does a woman have to be unconscious for you to have your way with her?” she taunted.
He took in the swelling mounds of soft pink flesh revealed by the décolleté gown as Audacia gasped for breath. His eyes moved to her face. Raven wisps of curls formed a soft frame for flushed cheeks and grey, flashing eyes. Her defiance drew him. He bent his head to hers, and a long-contained, powerful emotion soared within him as he captured her lips and his arms crushed her to him in an ardent embrace.
Without conscious thought, Audacia responded to his passion, her intensity matching his. But sudden awareness of her reaction to him shocked her and killed her response. She struggled to be free, confusion swelling within her.
Greydon drew back slowly but did not release her. His features contorted when he saw the anger and puzzled hurt upon her face, the tears welling in her eyes. His hands dropped as if scorched. He fumbled at his pocket, drew a kerchief free, and handed it to her. “Audacia.” His voice faltered. “I did—did not mean to—”
Turning her face from him, she bit her lip.
“I apologize,” Roland said stiffly.
The words strangely held no solace but caused a deeper pang. Audacia dared to look at him. His grim face was proof of a new fear.
“This shall not occur again,” he told her coldly. “I ask that you forget it ever happened.”
The coldness and the demeanour of his stance cut through her. A tightness gripped her throat. Dabbing her eyes dry, she gulped down a large lump. “We had best walk about for a time before we return,” she managed through a dry throat. Easing past him, she did so.
The earl’s visage was impassive
but his every muscle was taut. He clenched and unclenched a fist as he followed.
* * * *
“It is so good to be able to visit with you like this, Lucille,” Geoffrey said as he gazed tenderly at her. “To be done with . . . with the awkwardness.”
“It almost seems no time has passed . . . no,” Lady Lucille amended, suddenly serious. “That is regrettably not true. Some lessons require time.”
“There are moments when I wonder if I was not too . . . hasty seven years past,” Geoffrey dared, watching her closely. “You are even more beautiful today than you were then.” The idea suddenly came to him that she would not object to being kissed. He leaned forward, only to halt as he spied Audacia and Greydon approaching.
Wondering what had caused the squire to halt, Lady Lucille turned her head and breathed, “Drat,” at the sight of the other two but hugged her newfound hope to her heart.
“What did you say?” Geoffrey asked, swinging his attention back to her.
“Nothing,” she laughed lightly. “It does look as if they have had another disagreement,” she added as she saw the set of her brother’s face.
“Ending your stroll so soon?” Geoffrey called out, hopeful they would prolong it.
“Miss Aderly finds herself fatigued. Lucille, pack the hamper. We must return. You should also rest this afternoon,” Greydon ordered.
Geoffrey rose and walked to Audacia. “What is wrong? You’re as pale as a new moon. Why, your hands are shaking,” he said, taking hold of one. “What happened?” he demanded.
“Nothing, Geoffrey—truly. It is all the dancing and late evenings. Can we just go?”
The squire looked distrustfully from Audacia to Greydon and disliked what he saw. “Of course,” he told her. “Let me walk you to the landau.” He put his arm about her protectively.
Lady Lucille watched the scene and felt her newly gladdened heart shake with fear. Her happiness seemed slowly to disappear at the sight of the squire’s solicitous concern for Audacia and Roland’s wincing spirit.