The Rake's Reflection

by Lesley-Anne McLeod

  The coachman that the earl had hired in Edinburgh gave his horses the office to start. Torgreave paid little heed to Charles' worries, but said, "You shall not object to staying at an hotel in London, I hope? I wish the staff to remain here at the Tower. I find it difficult to leave what I have just regained. But at least if I do not open the town house, it will seem more credible to me that I will return shortly to Manningford."

  The rector stretched out his long legs and yawned widely behind his gloved hand. "We will all return," he commented. "And no, I shall not object to an hotel."

  Delia was engaged in waving to Major Rhyle from the window of the coach. He had elected to return to London on horseback, as he had come. The weather was warm, redolent of the impending spring.

  "I trust Grillon's will suit you?" Rupert found himself putting the query again in an effort to turn Delia's attention from his friend Rhyle.

  He succeeded.

  She leaned back against the plum velvet squabs, and turned wide blue eyes on him. "You must know I have no knowledge of London hotels, but rely upon your judgment," she said.

  "A sad commentary," Charles snorted from across the coach.

  "She may rely on my judgment of hotels, halfling." Rupert reproved his younger brother. "If little else."

  Delia did not appear amused by their repartee. "I am relieved that you hired a chaise for Bowland and Morag," she confessed to Rupert. "Morag's disapproval is become quite fatiguing."

  "I could not reconcile myself to spending two more days cooped in a coach with her," Rupert said.

  Charles looked enquiringly from Rupert to Delia.

  "She believes I should have returned to Edinburgh today," Delia explained. "Indeed, she thinks I should never have left it."

  "Ah," he nodded. He was apparently unconscious of any uncomfortable undercurrents between his brother and Delia, whom he regarded as his cousin. His thoughts obviously turned on his own problems for he said, "You will attend upon Miss Slimbridge, immediately we reach London, Delia?"

  She disclaimed any such intention. "It is surely your place to do so. You must leave cards and announce our return and our whereabouts."

  "Indeed, you must undertake that duty, Charles," Rupert confirmed. He flung out his great-coated arm to steady Delia as the coach lurched through a particularly poor section of road.

  She visibly recoiled from the sensations caused by his touch, and her expression, though fleeting, was one of anguish.

  Charles, observing her face, mistook the reason for her emotions. "Roads are dreadful," he said. He was cheerful, intent upon rallying her supposed weakness. "Bound to be after the frost and snow this winter. You have been jaunting the countryside on the worst of 'em. I suppose you will call a halt when they are dry."

  She summoned a weak smile for his gentle humour. The earl's disturbing blue gaze she avoided.

  Charles returned to his previous point. "It may be my place to announce our return but I depend upon Delia to further my cause." He challenged Torgreave with a sharp look.

  "She wishes not to become involved with the ton," Rupert retorted.

  "Doing the pretty to the Slimbridges does not entail presentation at Court." Charles was uncharacteristically sarcastic.

  "That is enough," Delia interrupted them. She pressed her fingertips to her forehead. "I have no objection to assisting Charles in any small way, of course. But I have lived much in society and I know its ways. I have a horror of becoming grist for the gossip mill because of my resemblance to Rupert. I will no longer remain veiled, and I shall make the best I can of this unexpected return to London. But I will live retired."

  "I shall be the grist for the gossips," Rupert stated. He affected a falsetto voice with difficulty. "'Who would have thought Torgreave was so high-minded? He is a hero, and so romantic. All of his wicked ways must have been a ruse.'"

  Charles shook with laughter. Delia was obviously amused. "It is true," she agreed, "They will fawn on you. But Rupert, you do deserve the recognition and their gratitude."

  "Bah! I did it because people I knew were daily being killed."

  "You would also have been, had your mission been discovered," Charles reminded him.

  "I would not have cared, at the time. I felt my life valueless."

  His companions were briefly silent. Delia rubbed her brow again. Torgreave wondered if she had the headache.

  "The people have need of heroes," she commented.

  "There are others more worthy of the position than I."

  Delia cast an imploring look at Charles, who offered, "You do not have a choice, Rupert, according to Rhyle. For once, you ain't in charge. You help the Regent, Delia can help me, and we shall all be back at Manningford before you can blink."

  The simplicity of his views struck Torgreave and Delia to silence. The atmosphere of tension within the carriage lessened. But Rupert could only wish that matters were so uncomplicated.

  ***

  If the management of Grillon's establishment in Albemarle Street was surprised by the arrival of the dissolute Earl of Torgreave and his party, they did not indicate it by so much as a flicker of an eyelash. The chambers the party required were numerous, and Grillon's responded with its best and most private suite.

  When they dined, following their arrival, Torgreave said, "I suspect Gideon must have alerted them to the possibility of my custom. He probably imparted subtle hints on my supposed honours. The management is ardent in its pursuit of my satisfaction. Have you everything you wish, Delia?"

  His choice of words was unfortunate. "I do," she confirmed, with subtle, unintended emphasis. She coloured when his gaze flickered. "The accommodation is most comfortable," she added, knowing the comment to be inadequate.

  "I shall leave cards tomorrow," Charles announced, apparently following his own train of thought.

  His companions at table smiled at his single-mindedness. Intent upon distraction, they also considered the morrow.

  "I shall visit at Gillows' establishment, for furnishings," Delia said. She strove to be cheerful. And she was mindful of the lists of Manningford's requirements residing in her reticule.

  "I must attend upon Prinny," Rupert said. "The thought of dancing attendance upon him and Louis Philippe gives me no pleasure at all. Had I known my fate, I might have spied for the Corsican."

  Delia and Charles only laughed.

  As he trod up the steps of Carlton House together with Gideon Rhyle the next day, Torgreave knew that he had more than half meant his statement of the previous evening. Association with two fat self-serving monarchs was not what he sought, though some might think it an honour.

  It was the beginning of a fiendish week for Torgreave. Reports of his 'service to the nation' -- the word 'spy' was never used -- filled the news journals. Invitations poured into the suite at Grillon's. Delia appointed herself his secretary, and sorted the billets for his perusal. He was tossing them over impatiently on Thursday, in her company, when Rhyle and Captain Finglas were announced.

  "I will go to Holland House. I will not attend on the Devonshires," he stated even as the gentlemen bowed to Delia. "I refuse to be seen at Almack's. Those hypocritical cats have been shredding my character, and envying my exploits, for years. And I categorically reject coming-out balls and masquerades." He dumped a handful of thick parchment on a silver tray for removal by the hotel footman.

  The Major and Finglas roared with laughter, and Delia smothered a nascent chuckle. Rupert conjured a ferocious frown.

  "I bring good news," Rhyle began when he could speak. "Prinny has found another poor soul to lionize. Younger son of Viscount Penton and much more malleable than you. He is to be brought to town next week. So while the Regent expects to continue to bask reflected in your glory, the focus of attention will be elsewhere."

  "This is good news indeed," Rupert threw his long length into a chair, and allowed a flood of relief to wash over him. "If I needed to have the hypocrisy of the ton born in upon me, I have had it this week." He ha
d found the adulation more difficult to bear than even he had expected, and the thought of respite was sweet.

  "You have," Rhyle confirmed. "And an ugly sight it has been." He bent over the center table admiring Delia's needlework that reposed thereon. Upon straightening, he queried, "Where is Charles today?"

  "Out reveling in my newfound respectability, accepting congratulations on my behalf, and feeling himself like the prodigal son," Torgreave responded with a satiric grin.

  "Pompous young fool," Rhyle muttered. He was rebuked by Delia's sudden frown.

  "Not at all," Rupert corrected. "Your assessments are usually frighteningly accurate, Gideon, but you must be addled by loyalty to me when it comes to Charles. My brother is not pompous, and he deserves to experience normality. I have caused him enough anguish."

  "No more than your father caused you."

  "But why should Charles pay for that?" Rupert shook his dark head. "He's a good man. My father would be proud of him. I am proud of him."

  Delia seemed pleased by Torgreave's words.

  "I am happy to see you, Miss Tyninghame." Captain Finglas finally chose to speak.

  "It is a great pleasure to me to renew our acquaintance," she said with sincerity. The inarticulate Irishman had become a favourite of hers on her previous visit to London.

  He blushed, and stammered, "I...I have need of your excellent advice, Miss."

  "What can you mean?" she asked with a smile.

  Rupert and Rhyle fell into conversation about the visiting European nobility.

  "I have had the opportunity to become acquainted with M-Miss Aurora Taunton. I never before met her. She is quite p-perfect." He paused, apparently dwelling upon the characteristics of the lady that led him to make his extravagant statement. He returned to speech abruptly. "But Lady T-Taunton apparently holds no great opinion of Irish titles."

  "Oh, dear."

  "I have a hope that Aurora -- Miss T-Taunton -- returns my p-partiality. But I can not be at all certain of her feelings. She blows hot and cold, 'til I am half d-distracted. She says if I am a friend of Hugh's I must be as wicked as he. Then she turns about and says Rhyle and I are the only honourable p-pair of her brother's friends."

  "She is very young," Delia offered carefully. "And full of fun, experiencing the excitement of her first Season."

  "You think her f-flighty?"

  "No, oh no. I have seen a serious, determined side to her. And I think her mother will not be allowed to dictate Aurora's future."

  "So you give me hope?"

  "I would not be so presumptuous."

  "Will you speak with her?"

  "Lady Taunton? But I am not acquainted!" Delia pointed out with alarm.

  "No! Not with Lady Taunton," he said. "With Miss Taunton. Discover her feelings for me -- if she holds any -- whatever they may be."

  Delia gazed at him in dismay. The other gentlemen had stopped speaking. She said hurriedly, "I shall. I can promise nothing, but I will try."

  Charles' abrupt entrance captured everyone's attention.

  The earl hailed his younger brother. "I am to be removed from the limelight. Congratulate me!"

  "What?" the rector seemed preoccupied. "Oh, very well done. I suppose you will return to Manningford just when I have need of you."

  "What has happened?" Rupert straightened in his chair, all his attention focused upon Charles.

  "Little of consequence..." his brother mumbled. "I encountered Sir Thomas in North Audley Street. He informed me that your commendations from Prinny did nothing to recommend you in his mind, for a spy has little moral fibre, no matter what side he upholds. He all but ordered me from the house."

  Goaded Torgreave snapped, "I pity you for desiring the daughter so much you are prepared to take that man on as father-in-law."

  "Well I shall not offer her carte blanche, which is no doubt what you would do!"

  "I never took advantage of innocent young..."

  Unnoticed by the combatants, Major Rhyle and Captain Finglas rose to depart. Delia accompanied them to the door.

  "Will you drive out with me tomorrow?" the Major enquired. "The primroses have blossomed in the Green Park, and make a brave show."

  The argument behind Delia seemed to swell. "I should be delighted," she thanked him. "But now you must excuse me. Emotions run strong these days. I am needed often as peacemaker."

  Rhyle kissed her hand, and departed on a rumbling chuckle. Finglas followed him closely.

  Delia pressed her index fingers to her temples and whirled on the two brothers behind her. They still argued. "Enough! Rupert, if you will set aside those invitations you wish accepted I will answer them for you. And despite the decrease in your consequence, I believe you are to attend upon the Grand Duchess this afternoon."

  The earl grinned unrepentantly at her. "You put me in mind of our old nurse," he said. "Charles, did Delia not sound like Rimman of nursery days?"

  "Our quarrel was of nursery nature," his brother admitted guiltily.

  Delia seated herself of the sopha and patted the place beside her on the striped silk. "Charles, come and tell me what has put you all on end."

  He joined her obediently. In response to her question he said, "Taunton!"

  "Hugh?" Rupert queried, pausing in his sorting of invitations.

  Delia cast him a minatory look and he was silenced.

  "What has Mr. Taunton done?" she asked.

  "He has made himself dashed agreeable to Susannah. Her conversation was all of him. He takes her out to drive, dances with her, anticipates her slightest whim. And his sister Aurora has become Susannah's greatest friend."

  "Devil a bit," the earl sounded unsurprised. Delia glared at him again.

  "Charles, you must remember that this is Susannah's first visit to London." She chose her words of comfort with care, as she had with Captain Finglas. "She is doubtless overwhelmed by the addresses of town beaux, and she will attract their attention for she is lovely. However, her affection for you is deep. Allow Susannah her innocent fun, and be always prepared to assure her of your unchanging attachment."

  Charles seemed much struck by her words, and patted her hand absently. "You must be right, but you will visit her?" He still was anxious.

  "I will," she assured him.

  He rose, and wandered off to his chamber, deep in thought.

  She looked to Rupert to find him smiling at her in a disturbing, intimate manner. It brought back all her unease and constraint, but he seemed unaware of it.

  "What have you determined upon doing this afternoon? You have promised Egon you will visit Miss Taunton, and Charles that you will visit Miss Slimbridge."

  "Despite my promises, I have formed the intention of attending upon Mr. Wedgewood's Showroom in York Street, with Mrs. Lochmaddy." Striving for composure, she rose and took the invitations he had selected. She laid them on the escritoire, for later response. "And we shall visit also a new establishment of Mr. George Bullock, said to be an excellent designer and cabinetmaker."

  "Bullock?" His query was absent-minded. His survey of her and his admiration were obvious.

  "Please...you must not look at me so," she requested. She wrapped her arms about her slim waist self-consciously.

  Rupert's drawn face suffused with colour.

  She continued nervously, "When I visited the Egyptian Hall I fell into conversation with Mr. William Bullock, the proprietor. He divulged that his brother was on the point of opening a shop catering to the decoration of interiors. Well," she corrected herself, "it cannot be solely a shop for it is in Tenterden Street. He must reside there also. I have sent word that I wish to examine his goods, and am invited."

  Torgreave had with difficulty regained his sang-froid. "If you are impressed you must order as you wish, to my account. Manningford shall be just as you like it."

  "It little matters how I like it," she said, with sad, quiet emphasis. "I doubt I shall see it finished."

  "Do not say so," he bit out, his self-possession abandon
ing him. He took a step towards her. She recoiled and he swung about and departed the room.

  They did not meet again that day until supper was served in their private parlour late in the evening.

  "And where is Charles?" the earl asked. He endeavoured to strike a note of normalcy, after their fraught separation earlier in the day. Mrs. Lochmaddy dined with them, and they were waited upon by the hotel's servants. Nothing, he thought gloomily, could be more proper.

  "He informs me he has met with a number of old friends. He is now embarked on a social whirl of his own, invited to all manner of routs and theatre parties even though the season has not begun," Delia responded. "I believe he hopes he may encounter Miss Slimbridge." She shook her head, then brightened. "Rupert, is it not Charles' birthday, in a sen'night or so?"

  Torgreave was caught unawares, and searched his memory.

  "I cannot think how you knew, but I believe you are right. Yes, I am certain of it. Ten days hence. He will be five or six and twenty."

  "Six and twenty," Delia confirmed. "I had it from Inniskip."

  "I should have known it."

  "I think we should celebrate his birthday," Delia announced.

  Morag directed a frowning look at her. Delia ignored it.

  Torgreave transferred his consideration from a dish of plaice on the table before him to her face. "Now why should we do that?" he asked.

  "It will be an opportunity for you both to establish your reconciliation," she suggested. "And for you to confirm your...your..."

  "Newfound respectability?" He provided words for her hesitation.

  "As you say," she agreed. Mrs. Lochmaddy snorted.

  "Perhaps you are right," he said. "Have you more thoughts on the sort of celebration we should undertake?"

  "I am thinking of a dinner, with conversation and music to follow. I daresay Mr. Grillon can provide us with a pianoforte. No cards or dancing. And we shall invite the Slimbridges."

  Torgreave was temporarily speechless. But he managed after a moment to say, "And we shall impress Sir Thomas with respectable domesticity? Well, I can see no objection, except possibly from Mrs. Lochmaddy." He turned his head to regard the Scotswoman. "Will you share your reservations with us, ma'am?"