by Merry Farmer
“I am doing no such thing,” Elaine balked. “I have no interest in dressing the way most women are forced to.” She turned to Lady Tavistock and Lavinia. “It’s a disgrace the way women are squeezed into cages and gowns riddled with aniline dyes. It’s no wonder our minds have been so dulled. I intend to live my life as a free and unfettered individual.”
“Oh, yes,” Lady Tavistock replied, crossing the room so that she too could join the conversation. “I have had many discussions with my particular friends about the tortures women are put through by the great fashion houses.”
Again, Uncle Daniel’s expression flashed into a mixture of surprise and greed, though Elaine couldn’t imagine what prize he felt he had in front of him. He didn’t seem the type to enjoy ladies’ fashion.
“I can see how it would be lovely to dress so freely,” Lavinia said. “Why, my friends, Mrs. Alexander Croydon and Lady Stanhope—”
“Lavinia, hush,” Lady Prior cut her off.
Elaine winced at the way Lavinia went instantly silent, shrinking back and lowering her head. She decided then and there that Lavinia Prior needed to be her new, bosom friend. Far more than Lady Tavistock did, although Elaine quite liked her too.
“I blame your sister’s husband,” Aunt Abigail whispered, snapping Elaine’s attention back to the matter at hand and closing their conversation to just family once more.
“Papa?” Elaine blinked.
“He always was a bit too bohemian for my liking,” Uncle Daniel sniffed. “Why Evangeline married him, I’ll never know.”
“My papa was a good and kind man,” Elaine rushed to defend him. “He stood up for what he believed in, and he raised me to do the same.”
“Outspoken and bold,” Lady Prior said from deeper in the parlor, shaking her head and tutting. So much for keeping the conversation private.
“Shall I have Wilson drive her to a hotel somewhere? Preferably in Wales,” Aunt Abigail said, adding the last bit in a low sneer.
Elaine took in a breath and prepared to defend herself. It was that or be thrown out with hardly enough money to make it through the night. If only she’d thought things through instead of being ruled by her heart.
Her uncle was silent for a good, long while. He rubbed his chin, studying Elaine and then peeking into the parlor to where Lady Tavistock stood, elegantly pretending not to pay attention. Uncle Daniel’s look made Elaine shiver. Rose and Isaac were most certainly right. London would eat her alive after all.
“Outspoken,” her uncle said at last. “Bold.”
Elaine held her head high. “I’ve never pretended to be anything that I’m not.”
Uncle Daniel hummed. The look in his eyes remained sharp as he let out a breath, then clasped Elaine’s elbow to steer her into the parlor and over to Lady Tavistock.
“Lady Tavistock, seeing as my niece has just arrived in London, I would be most grateful if you and your friends were to take her under your collective wing.”
Elaine sent her uncle a curious look. Was it normal for uncles to foist their nieces off on unsuspecting marchionesses whom they’d just met? Even if they were close to the same age.
Lady Tavistock laughed, smiling at Elaine. “I would most certainly welcome the opportunity to learn more about her.”
Aunt Abigail squeaked. Lady Prior’s mouth dropped. Lavinia looked as though she had witnessed some sort of miracle.
“I’d like to befriend Lady Lavinia as well,” Elaine said, not wanting her new acquaintance to be left out.
“Of course,” Lady Tavistock said. “I can see you have a kind heart.” She turned to Lady Prior. “Perhaps we should make a longer call some other time. It appears to me as though we are, at present, interfering in a private moment.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Lady Prior said, blinking in bewilderment. She turned to Aunt Abigail. “We will try again on Thursday.”
“Please do.” Aunt Abigail smiled at Lady Tavistock.
Elaine was confused beyond measure as Lady Tavistock, Lady Prior, and Lady Lavinia took their leave. She had found Lady Tavistock and Lady Lavinia to be agreeable, but Aunt Abigail and Uncle Daniel were behaving toward Lady Tavistock as though she were the queen. There had to be something at play that Elaine didn’t know about.
“I thought that went quite well,” she said, for lack of anything better to say, once Wilson, the butler, shut the door behind the guests.
Aunt Abigail and Uncle Daniel whisked Elaine into the front parlor and sat her on the sofa so fast that her head spun.
“How would you feel about speaking to other women you’d only just been introduced to about political matters?” Uncle Daniel asked in a rush.
Elaine gaped like a fish for a moment, no idea how the topic of conversation had switched so fast. “I’d enjoy it,” she answered with a smile. “I enjoy speaking about politics. In fact, several weeks ago, I took the stage to address a political rally in Brynthwaite in anticipation of this election.”
“Mr. Turpin, you don’t think she could actually become one of them, do you?” Aunt Abigail asked as though “they” were royalty. “She’s only just arrived in London this instant.”
“One of who?” Elaine asked, glancing between her aunt and uncle.
Uncle Daniel rested a fatherly hand on her arm. His whole demeanor toward her had undergone a complete change since she stepped through the door. “My dear niece, you cannot tell me you’ve never heard of the May Flowers.”
Elaine blinked. “Daffodils and delphiniums?”
“The May Flowers,” Aunt Abigail emphasized, as though pronouncing the name of a holy order.
When Elaine shrugged, Uncle Daniel blew out a breath and said, “They are London’s premier social circle for ladies of good breeding and taste. And they have more political power than most of the men in this city.”
“Because they are married to or courting key men across the nation,” Aunt Abigail explained.
“To be accepted by one of their number so swiftly and with such openness,” Uncle Daniel went on. But he was apparently too overcome with joy to continue.
“Lady Tavistock is one of these May Flowers,” Elaine said, nodding as it came clear to her. “And you want me to befriend her and talk about politics.”
Uncle Daniel smiled at her, but there was something unsettling in the expression. “I knew you’d be intelligent,” he said. “Any woman who is so quick to drive to the heart of things is precisely who I need to speak on my behalf with the May Flowers.”
Elaine sat straighter, tilting her head to the side. “So it’s not just politics in general you want me to speak to these grand women about. You want me to campaign on your behalf with them.”
“And you will, of course,” Uncle Daniel replied, as though it were a foregone conclusion.
Elaine pressed her lips together and pinched her brow in thought. This was the last thing she expected to happen to her so soon after arriving in London. She’d thought to rest for a day or two, slowly acquaint herself with the city, and then to go looking for Basil. She’d hoped that her uncle knew him and could make some sort of formal introduction in order that Basil’s butler wouldn’t bar her from his door. It had seemed ridiculous to begin with, but now everything swirling around her felt so ludicrous that it could have been a fairytale.
Still, if diving into the height of London’s social scene would enable her to find Basil without being turned away by butlers or arrested—the incident at Euston Station still loomed in her mind—then it was worth the sacrifice. She was in London for a reason, after all, and politics played a major role in that reason.
“All right,” she said with a smile and a nod. “I’ll do it.”
“Excellent.” Uncle Daniel clapped his hands together, then rubbed them with a greedy smile. “Although we do need to do something about your wardrobe.”
“This is who I am,” Elaine held her ground. “I have no other clothes but these. And I did not come to London with the aim of having new clothes provided fo
r me.”
“Why did you come here?” he asked.
Again, instinct warned her to play her cards close to her chest. “I’m searching for a dear friend of mine,” she said. “As I said in my telegram.”
“Yes,” Uncle Daniel nodded. “You weren’t particularly specific about that friend. Perhaps if you were to give us her name, we could search for her on your behalf.”
Elaine arched a brow. Had she been so vague in her telegram that her uncle would think she was looking for a female friend? She supposed she had. “That won’t be necessary at this time,” she said, intent on keeping Basil to herself for as long as possible. She cleared her throat, staring intently at her uncle and hoping he wouldn’t note her changing the subject. “I assume that the trade-off for speaking out in your favor to these May Flower women would be room and board under this roof?” She didn’t mind singing for her supper if it led her to Basil.
“And I’ll pay for that new wardrobe you want too,” her uncle said with a nod.
“I told you, I’m not interested in clothes in the fashionable style. I have quite a lovely wardrobe already,” she said.
“You cannot and will not prance about town dressed like that while staying under our roof,” Aunt Abigail stepped forward to add.
Elaine frowned, biting her lip. She had a choice in front of her, one she didn’t like. Her uncle wanted to use her for his purposes, but she needed to use him for hers. Like it or not, she would be safer if she let him think he was molding her the way he wanted.
“All right,” she said with a sharp nod. “I’ll let you dress me up in a silken cage and parade me around to your friends.”
Her uncle laughed, and she thought she heard him mutter, “Shayles would love that.” He cleared his throat and said aloud, “Good. There’s no time to lose. The Margate ball is tomorrow night. Margate’s eldest daughter is a May Flower. Can you get her ready by then?” he asked Aunt Abigail.
Aunt Abigail pursed her lips, then shook her head and clicked her tongue. “I don’t know. There’s so much work to be done.”
“We should get started right away, then,” Elaine said, standing. “Lead the way and I’ll follow.”
Chapter 12
Misery was not a strong enough word to describe how Basil felt about returning to London with the sole purpose of ingratiating himself to past lovers. Malcolm hadn’t given him a moment’s peace since the second he arrived, dragging him to teas and recitals, the theater and now the Margate ball, when all he wanted to do was stay home and compose his thoughts enough to write an impassioned letter to Elaine, begging for forgiveness.
“It’s so good to see you make your grand debut back into society at our humble ball,” Lord Margate said with bloated self-importance, greeting Basil as he arrived.
“It is my pleasure,” Basil replied, lying through his teeth. Margate was a self-serving fool, but everyone who was anyone attended his parties, particularly when they had a political theme. Basil had been assured most of the May Flowers would be there, although they weren’t the only women he had to worry about.
“I expect you’ll be wanting to renew all of your old acquaintances,” Lady Margate said as she greeted him, a flicker of heat in her eyes. “We did so miss you,” she added in a salacious tone.
Basil nodded politely to her and said, “I’ve changed,” before excusing himself and marching off.
That had been the first of a dozen similar encounters. As word that the Missing Earl of Waltham had returned made its way around the room, he was inundated.
“I hear you were living in a hermit’s hut down in Cornwall, eating raw fish,” Lord Essex said with a guffaw as Basil was dragged into a circle of peers that were known for hard drinking and harder gambling.
“Find any mermaids out there on the coast?” Lord Pembroke added with a lascivious snort.
“I was not in Cornwall,” Basil told them, standing rigidly straight and relying on every bit of the poise his father had drilled into him to keep from flying into a temper.
“Must have been Devon then,” Lord Essex laughed. “I’d like to get my hands on one of those mermaids, if you know what I mean.” He made a rude gesture to demonstrate just what part of the mermaid he wanted to handle.
“If you will excuse me, gentlemen.” Basil nodded then shot straight across the ballroom as the musicians began to tune.
“Lord Waltham,” a languorous, female voice stopped him.
Basil winced inwardly and turned to find Lady Alice Lindsey sashaying toward him, fanning herself coquettishly. “Lady Lindsey.” He nodded with more formality than he’d used in a decade.
“The music is starting. Would you care to dance?” Her lips twitched and her eyes shone as she touched his arm.
Everything in him wanted to say no. He could tell by the way Alice fingered the lace of her dress’s low-cut neckline that dancing was just a prelude to her. But it was the sprig of apple blossom pinned to the same neckline, a May-blooming flower, that told him he couldn’t refuse. Not unless he wanted Malcolm to castrate him.
“I would enjoy that,” Basil lied.
Alice cooed in victory and let him lead her out onto the dance floor for a waltz. She squeezed his arm once he had her in dance position and raked her eyes over him. “You’ve lost weight. It suits you.”
Basil cleared his throat, writhing under the lust in the woman’s appraisal. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t seen you looking so fit in ten years.” Before he could answer, she swayed close in time to the music and whispered. “I’ve missed you.”
The heat of mortification rose up Basil’s neck. As little as three years ago, he would have gone as hard as an oak at the blatant invitation, the scent of Alice’s perfume, the flush on her skin. Now it only made him long for Elaine and the simple life of love he’d been forced away from.
“I hear you have continued your interest in politics,” he said, quick, clear, and indisputable. “I hope the Liberal party can count on your support.”
Alice laughed, too loud for his liking, and nowhere near as honestly as Elaine laughed. “Come now, Lord Waltham. Don’t tell me you’ve joined the cadre of political gentlemen seeking to win my favor and the favor of my friends because you think you can sway our opinions in this election.”
“Of course not,” Basil lied, dropping his shoulders in disappointment.
“Though I could be persuaded in other ways.” She glanced up at him through hazy eyes, then let her glance flicker down to his trousers.
It was humiliating, but there was nothing Basil could do about it. “Have you continued your interest in raising funds for Indian orphanages since we last met?” he asked instead. If she wouldn’t discuss politics directly, perhaps he could get to it in a more roundabout way.
“I’m always interested in raising things,” Alice replied, wetting her lips.
The rest of the dance was a trial. The best Basil could say by the end was that he’d broken through Alice’s initial defenses and kept her talking until the conversation swung back to politics. But even then, the dance ended before he could do any campaigning on the Liberal Party’s behalf. And since dancing twice in a row would give Alice ideas he didn’t want her to have, he returned her to the side of the room, somehow managing to avoid arranging an illicit rendezvous for later.
“I look forward to seeing much more of you, now that you’re back,” Alice told him in parting, using the fan dangling from her wrist to cool her heated face.
Basil’s stomach twisted as he nodded, then marched on, heading for the open French doors that led to the terrace. If the rest of the evening was going to be like that, he needed a breath of fresh air. Although he was unlikely to breathe any air in London that was as fresh as what he’d left behind in Cumbria.
He paused just inside the doorway, turning his back to the velvet curtain framing the door so that he could survey the ballroom. He felt like a piece of meat. The libidinous glances of women he’d tumbled with in the past, coupled wit
h the fact that he was supposed to charm his way into the confidence of the May Flowers made him want to bolt through the door and not stop running until he reached Australia. He swiped the first glass of wine he could from a passing footman with a tray and downed a gulp. This was the life he’d fled from two years ago. Every last reason he’d abandoned it was there, sending him mocking glances and reminding him why he’d left.
By the time his glass of wine was empty, a melancholy had settled over him that was almost laughable. He missed Elaine. He missed her so much it twisted his insides into knots. He missed her artistic clothing and the fearless attitude that enabled her to wear it when everyone else looked like a copy of a copy of the latest fashion plate. He missed the unreserved joy in her smile, a joy that seemed miraculous after everything she’d been through since they’d met. He missed the way she said what was on her mind without resorting to code or insinuation. He missed the softness and warmth of her skin as she’d lay naked in his arms. And above all, he missed the way he felt like himself when he was with her.
A flash of sunflower yellow caught his eye from the entrance to the ballroom. For one, stunning moment, he thought he saw her. His heart skipped a beat and bounced to his stomach, then back up again. The woman had turned away, showing the back of her head, her hair styled in elaborate twists and curls, exactly the opposite of how Elaine would have arranged hers. Besides that, the woman had come in with Turpin. His heart sank. He longed for Elaine so much he was seeing her in random strangers accompanying one of his worst enemies.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a soul look as tragic as you do right now.”
Basil turned, his brow inching up at the sight of his old friend, Alex Croydon. He approached with a clever smile and a stunningly beautiful, elegant woman on his arm.
“Alex. It’s good to see you.” Basil tried to smile as his old friend approached. He clapped his hand in Alex’s, and they thumped each other’s shoulders in greeting.
“It’s been too long,” Alex said, more feeling in his voice than Basil was used to. Alex stepped back to introduce the woman with him. “This is my beautiful bride, Marigold.”