Today, she was dressed in true scandalous style, her scarlet dress more suited to evenings and even then evenings in certain places only. She was beautiful and voluptuous and made no apology for it.
Her deep red hair was more down than up and she did not wear so much as a spencer to cover her scantily clad form.
Lady Sarah instructed her driver to bring her barouche to a stop beside Edward’s vehicle.
“And Tom. How are my two favourite boys?”
“How do you do, my lady?” Edward answered politely, while Tom tipped his hat and grinned at the lady.
“May I introduce my lovely companions for today— Lady Caroline Carrington and Lady Rebecca Carrington, the daughters of the Earl of Ranford?”
Lady Sarah looked them over rather disdainfully before shrugging as if wholly unimpressed. The look made Rebecca itch to slap her.
“Pretty little things,” was all the answer she gave.
Rebecca felt her blood boil but Caroline, because she knew her sister as well as she knew herself, grasped Rebecca’s hand and answered politely. “A pleasure, Lady Sarah.”
“A shame you girls have only just arrived, you missed a wonderful party last night at my dear god mamma’s, did they not my darlings?” she reached out and rubbed Tom’s arm rather obviously and Rebecca nearly yelped as Caroline’s hold on her hand became a death grip.
Edward replied smoothly, “The ladies were present, Lady Sarah.”
“Indeed. I confess I did not notice.”
This was sure to be a lie since the party was awash with speculation on the two ladies. Both unattached, both extremely wealthy and both, it was rumoured, looking for a match.
Rebecca had had enough of the rude woman and her blatant lasciviousness when looking at Edward.
“Perhaps your eyesight is failing, my lady. That can happen with age.”
There was a moment of shocked silence before Tom barked out a laugh and even Edward chuckled, though more softly than his cousin.
Rebecca heard Caroline whisper “oh no” but she was far too het up to pay any heed.
Lady Sarah’s eyes narrowed dangerously and her demeanour lost its insincere friendliness.
“My, my. Quite a fiery one, aren’t you? One would not think so to look at your – er – rather demure clothing.” She smiled nastily.
Rebecca wanted to throw something at her.
Lady Sarah had basically said Rebecca looked dowdy. Rebecca had been rather pleased with how she looked. She wore an afternoon dress that had come from Madame’s the other day. It was a white muslin skirt with a light lavender bodice and white ribbon trim. Madame had insisted Rebecca take it as the original buyer had not returned and she’d been “as ugly as a horse’s backside” regardless, according to Madame.
Rebecca had been too scared to refuse.
For their outing she’d teamed it with a white pelisse and white bonnet with lavender trim. Rebecca knew she looked becoming in it and Lady Sarah was just being a spiteful old hag.
Rebecca smiled sweetly and replied, “I shall be sure to pass on your opinions to Madame Barousse, whose creation it is. With such a discerning pallet, she will be most curious to hear others disagree. Though I am sure you are not familiar with that mantua maker. I cannot imagine her creating something of yours.”
Lady Sarah looked both mortified at having insulted a creation of the House of Barousse and furious at being delivered such a set down.
Rebecca, having said all she was willing to say to the lady bid her a polite good day and stepped down from the vehicle intending to walk off her temper a little.
She had not gone far when Edward caught up to her.
“Alright. Put the claws away little cat, she is gone.”
“I am sure I do not know what you mean,” answered Rebecca innocently.
Edward just grinned but made no more comment on the subject. In truth he had expected nothing less when introducing those two. He knew Rebecca could hold her own in any war of words. She’d made light work of Lady Sarah.
His only worry now was that Sarah would try to find her revenge in some way. The lady did not like to be bested.
“Be careful with Lady Sarah, won’t you?” he warned, “She does not like to be embarrassed and she does not like to be outdone.”
“If she does not like to be embarrassed perhaps it would benefit her to invest in a looking glass so she can see herself before leaving her house.” Really, Rebecca had never been so unkind about anyone. That lady quite simply grated on her nerves.
“My, my. Such viciousness from such an angelic looking person. Remind me not to cross you.”
“You already have. Several times.”
“Ouch,” he winced, “True perhaps. But have I not also caused you some joy?”
They had come to a stop under a sprawling oak and Rebecca noticed for the first time that they seemed to be alone.
“Where is Caroline?”
“Further back, talking to Tom. Or rather arguing with, judging by her countenance when I left them.”
“We should return.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “we should.”
Neither of them made any move to turn back however. It seemed they were equally reluctant to leave. The thought should have caused her pleasure but all it did was cause confusion. Rebecca knew that she was reluctant to leave him because she loved him and was happier in his company than anywhere else. What then, was his reason?
She turned away lest her feelings show in her expression when her heart stopped dead as she spotted a figure watching them from across the small pond.
“Edward.” Rebecca gripped his sleeve.
“What’s the matter?” He frowned.
“There, by the pond. Is that not Mr. Simons?”
Edward spun around in time to see the figure’s swiftly retreating back.
“Was it him?” he asked urgently.
She nodded shakily. “I am almost certain. No, I am certain. It was he.”
“Right.” Edward grimaced and he seemed to be forming a decision in his head for he nodded decisively then gripped her elbow and led her back to the landau. “Let us get you home. I will have a man make some enquiries. I do not want you making yourself ill worrying about this, Rebecca. I will deal with it.”
Rebecca nodded again and admitted to herself that she felt far less frightened having Edward by her side than she had done the first time she’d spotted Mr. Simons.
They returned to Caroline and Tom. Rebecca watched them closely for any sign of argument but both were their usual selves, if a little quiet.
Edward returned them to his mother’s house but took his leave directly. He drew Rebecca to a corner of the drawing room before departing.
“I shall keep you informed of every development. In the meantime do not go anywhere alone. And try, at least, to stay out of trouble.”
She gave him every promise to try. At least. And with a swift kiss to her hand he was gone.
****
Lady Sarah Whitting fumed as she made her way through the park and toward the small but serviceable house she kept in Chelsea. She was in the mood for one of her assignations and could certainly do with the distraction.
How dare that little upstart speak to her in such a fashion?
And the way Edward hung on the brat’s every word! It was not to be borne.
She scowled as she thought of the dance the previous evening and how everyone had watched the girl and her Ice Queen sister. For God’s sake. Earl’s daughters were two a penny; there was no call for the fuss they were creating.
And then she’d seen Edward dance with the chit.
Edward had always tolerated Sarah’s outlandish ways. He had never guessed at the very real desire she felt for him. Sarah had never minded since he had shown no preference for any lady of the ton. Until now.
And would it not just wipe the smug little grin from Lady Rebecca’s pretty face to know that, however platonic their friendship was now, it had not always been so be
tween Edward and Sarah.
A white lie here, an embellishment there and she could have the girl thinking quite interesting things about Edward and her.
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the unwelcome arrival of a rather dishevelled young man, who jumped in front of her horses causing the driver to swear loudly and pull up.
“What the devil do you think you are doing?” he shouted at the young man.
The man ignored him completely and sauntered over to Lady Sarah’s side of the vehicle.
She looked down her nose at him. He was handsome. Very brooding. But he was clearly one of the lower class and therefore unworthy of her notice.
“My lady,” he addressed Sarah with a bow, which seemed rather mocking. “I believe you and I may have something in common.”
Sarah regarded him disdainfully. What in heaven’s name would she have in common with a creature such as this?
“Perhaps you are mistaken, boy,” Sarah spoke venomously, “I am sure I could have nothing in common with the likes of you.”
George Simons’ temper flared as yet another toff treated him as though he were something she’d stepped on. But he needed her on his side if she was to help him with his cause and he needed help. From the looks of things, that damned duke wasn’t going to leave Rebecca’s side.
So, making sure to hide his dislike, he doffed his hat and said, “I apologise for interrupting your afternoon, my lady. But I noticed your little chat with Lady Rebecca and the duke just now and, well, you did not seem right pleased at seeing them together.”
Lady Sarah’s brows rose, not only at the man’s obvious acquaintance with the horrible Lady Rebecca but his impertinence at addressing her about so delicate a subject.
“I did not get your name, boy.”
He grinned and she noticed a couple of missing teeth, though they were not right in the front and not too off putting.
“That is because I did not give it.”
Really. He was shockingly insubordinate.
“What exactly do you have to do with the lady?” she asked leaning forward, her curiosity definitely piqued now.
“Not as much as I’d like to,” came the bitter reply. Sarah was confused by his response. There was something odd about the man to be sure. She’d had enough.
“I’ve had enough of this. Drive on,” she ordered. But before the driver could move, the man had taken hold of Sarah’s lower arm.
“How dare you,” she screeched. “Unhand me immediately.”
Her driver had jumped down from his seat and was rushing round to remove the odious creature from Sarah’s notice.
But the man easily pushed him off and turned back to Sarah.
“Seems to me that the lady has slighted you and you do not strike me as a woman who likes to be crossed.” This certainly got her attention, the anger at Rebecca’s treatment of her still very much present.
“No, I am not” she agreed.
“Now,” he continued while Sarah gestured for the driver to return to his seat, “I do not want those two together any more than you do.”
“What the devil would you know about what I want?”
“I have eyes, my lady,” was his only response.
Sarah looked him over again. What the devil was going on here? He was far from gently bred and she could not imagine the snooty Lady Rebecca having anything to do with him. But, clearly there was something going on here and Sarah was intrigued.
“I cannot be seen talking to you here,” she finally uttered, “God knows what people would think.”
Sarah missed the curling of his lip at this statement.
She continued on, oblivious.
“Follow me to my house in Chelsea. My man will give you the address.”
Without another word, she turned away and waited for her driver to finish with him so they could move. She’d hear what the fellow had to say before deciding what to do with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Some nights later the sisters made their first visit to Almack’s. The dowager was not only in constant possession of vouchers, but was bosom friends with several of the patronesses. The girls were extremely excited about it, not in the least because Madame had arrived in person to deliver the girls’ gowns for the evening.
Rebecca’s was a masterpiece of cream silk which hugged her form. It was daring but far from vulgar and Rebecca loved it.
Madame had, in fact, delivered all but one of the gowns the girls had ordered, stating that their final ball gowns were not yet finished.
Her work was exquisite. There was no other word for it.
Caroline’s dress was a confection of palest pink chiffon, which made her look softer and more feminine than usual. Her maid had even arranged her hair in a softer style, in keeping with the silhouette of the dress, and the overall effect was stunning.
“Caroline,” breathed Rebecca when they met in the drawing room, “you look like a fairy princess.”
Caroline giggled, giggled and flushed happily.
“Thank you, dearest. I must admit when I first saw it I thought it was a trifle girlish but it really is beautiful.”
“You are beautiful,” corrected Rebecca fondly.
Rebecca’s looks had always drawn notice quicker than Caroline’s because she was darker than most young ladies of the ton but growing up she had always envied Caroline’s hair like spun gold and her icy blue eyes.
“Especially,” she continued mischievously, “your hair, which puts me in mind of the sun in springtime.”
The sisters were still laughing when the dowager entered the room, declared them both to be equally beautiful and swept them out to the carriage.
Rebecca tried not to look for Edward the moment they arrived. She had seen little of him since the day in the park and her emotions swung between worry, disappointment and anger at herself for being worried and disappointed.
Really, this business of being in love felt like nothing more than a constant headache!
Immediately after they were announced, the dowager took them to meet the patronesses themselves. Rebecca was slightly worried since Caroline had spent the morning explaining the intricacies of the rules of the haute monde.
Apparently, Rebecca should not have waltzed at the Marsh’s ball the other night. Waltzing should only be considered after it had been deemed acceptable by one of the patronesses of Almack’s.
“But,” Caroline reassured her, “I am sure there is nothing to worry about since the dowager is sponsoring you and gave you permission. And really, who is going to argue with the Dowager Duchess of Hartridge?” she asked laughingly.
“Er – nobody?” Rebecca guessed.
“Well, of course nobody! The dowager is above reproach. Hartridge wives have always been perfection personified. They do not break the rules. I am sure there will be no adverse consequences.”
Rebecca thought miserably that Caroline could have said nothing more to convince her that Rebecca was definitely NOT Duchess of Hartridge material, though she did not really need convincing on that score. Still, the whole fuss seemed ridiculous to her.
“Caroline, it was just a dance! What possible consequences could there be?”
“Becca, do you remember Lady Louise Trent, the Earl of Donbury’s daughter?”
Rebecca racked her brain.
“No.”
“Exactly!” Caroline exclaimed. “That is because she waltzed for an entire Season without having even attended Almack’s, let alone gained permission to dance.”
“Oh my God,” Rebecca was horrified, “you mean they killed her?”
“What? Do not be ridiculous! She lives at her father’s country estate. Engaged to a local vicar so I am told.”
“Oh,” Rebecca was vastly relieved. “So then, what is the problem exactly?”
“Did you not hear me? She is an earl’s daughter.”
“Yes?”
“She is marrying a vicar.”
“So?”
Caroline huff
ed a sigh of frustration and refused to continue with the conversation.
Although Rebecca did not think of marrying a perfectly respectable vicar as a punishment, the moral of the story was clear. One simply did not offend the patronesses of Almack’s!
The dowager greeted the ladies warmly then drew the girls forward.
“May I present Lady Caroline Carrington and Lady Rebecca Carrington, daughters of my dear friends the Earl and Countess of Ranford?”
Caroline curtsied beautifully and Rebecca followed suit, hoping to impress the formidable group before her lest she be shunted into obscurity for the rest of her days.
Rebecca watched helplessly as several pairs of eyes looked her over thoroughly. She was beginning to think that obscurity sounded like a holiday.
Finally, one of the ladies, and in her panic Rebecca forgot which, addressed her.
“I believe you danced a rather sensational waltz with our dear duke, Lady Rebecca.”
Rebecca froze. What should she say? It was hardly sensational; it was just a damned dance!
“I did, Lady—” she froze once again. Oh God! She could not remember the name! Her mind was a total blank. Just as she was beginning to hyperventilate, a voice sounded from behind him.
“How goes my favourite coven tonight?” sounded Edward’s deep baritone. Rebecca could have kissed him.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the ladies chuckled at his wicked question.
“Edward, my dear boy. How nice to see you.”
It appeared that the duke was a favourite of the gathered ladies.
There were several moments of chit chat during which Rebecca was wonderfully ignored, then Edward turned to her, “My lady, may I request the pleasure of the first dance?”
Rebecca glanced at the ladies watching them closely, unsure if she was allowed to just accept or if she should wait for them to grant permission.
“Um,” she started a little hesitantly, giving somebody the chance to speak up, “I would be delighted, your grace. Thank you.”
She took his arm and turned to leave when they were stopped by a subtle “Ahem.”
They both turned back to face the little group. There was an awkward pause. Well, a pause which felt awkward to Rebecca, who was starting to turn scarlet under the collective scrutiny of the leading ladies of the ton.
An Unlikely Duchess Page 20