by Allison Lane
“What about the woman?”
“She was screeching her woes to the world and raining curses on both our heads, but he completely ignored her. After heaping any number of insults onto my shoulders, he strode off in high dudgeon.”
“A trying encounter, to be sure.” He chuckled. “Did you recognize the lady?”
“Not in the least, though she was wearing the most outrageous hat I have ever laid eyes on.”
“And a cloak lined in ermine, I’ll be bound,” he interrupted.
“How did you know?”
“She moves like a man-of-war under full sail in a raging gale, venting her pique on anything she finds annoying. Her name is Mrs. Stanhope. Although her breeding is acceptable, she married a Cit and has been unbearably obnoxious ever since her daughter was refused admission to Almack’s. Picturing her knocked into the street is the most delightful image to come my way in some time. I wish I could have seen it.” He gave in and laughed.
“I take it she is not one of your favorite people.”
“Hardly. We have exchanged words on more than one occasion. Did she read you a scold once the gentleman departed?”
She could feel her face heat at the memory. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I left without a word myself. I was so furious that I forgot she was there.”
Ellisham laughed even harder. “How priceless. Ignored by everyone! But who, pray tell, was the gentleman?”
“An arrogant, overbearing meddler who seems to believe he is better than everyone else. He already made me into a laughingstock over yesterday’s confrontation. What he will do this time, I have no idea. I suspect that nothing pleases him.”
“What happened yesterday?”
She blushed. “Another of my scrapes. I don’t know why I thought myself capable of chaperoning Harriet. I cannot pass a week without getting into trouble.”
“I can’t imagine how.”
“My mind fixes on its thoughts, leaving me oblivious to my surroundings. I hope I do not draw censure onto Harriet’s head.”
“You will not.”
She glanced up in surprise.
“I will not allow it.”
“Thank you. My bumblebroths are mortifying enough without involving others.”
“So what happened yesterday?”
“A dog.” She sighed. “Two boys were tormenting it. In my haste to stop them, I failed to see an approaching carriage. The man dragged me out from in front of it.” She bit her lip. “I must admit that he did chase off the boys and return Maximillian to his owner. But he made considerable sport of me last night, so I cannot feel properly grateful.”
“Dear Lord. You cannot mean Sedge!”
“Lord Sedgewick Wylie. Someone identified him while he pilloried me. Odious fool.”
His laughter was drawing attention, so he stifled it, growing quite red-faced in the process. “Beyond priceless. You are a pearl, indeed, my dear. I never thought to find anyone capable of criticizing Sedge – or of destroying his uncanny control.” His eyes lit with speculation.
“Pardon me,” she said stiffly. “But his character is quite lacking – not that I should be ripping up his conduct when he is not present to defend himself, but it is no more than he did to me. A more presumptuous man I’ve yet to meet.”
Another chuckle escaped. “I must apologize for his lack of tact, Miss Patterson. Believe me, he is anything but odious. Nor is he particularly arrogant, though he does occasionally play that role in public. Perhaps you will give him a chance to redeem himself.”
“Another of his slaves. I suppose he is your closest friend,” she said, then blushed.
“In a way. He is my brother.”
She jumped, dropping her head to hide another blush. “I see my tongue has again betrayed me. Forgive me.”
“Of course. But you needn’t flee.” She was inching away. “I find it refreshing that someone does not dote on him. People have practically worshipped him since Brummell left.”
“Why?”
His eyes grew serious. “It started with the cubs. Boys in town for the first time often choose older mentors to mimic, copying dress, manners, interests, even those unique little habits we all have. It serves an admirable purpose if the models are honorable, for it allows the lads to quickly fit in. Brummell was the pattern card for many years – in fact, Sedge was one of his followers when he came down from Oxford. But Brummell was getting rather long in the tooth even before he fled his creditors, so many cubs preferred Sedge. He has a great deal of fashion sense. Frankly, I would rather people followed his lead than some of the more flamboyant dressers.”
“Yes, he does manage to look elegant even when reading one a scold.”
“He is now the most powerful arbiter of fashion in town, and unlike others, he feels the responsibility of his position, keeping an eye on his imitators. When one of them is headed for trouble, he can often deflect him. Like young Orville last night. The cub has been denigrating ladies to his opera dancers. Sedge set him straight.”
“Laudable,” was all she said, though he could have been gentler about how he had gone about it. Mr. Orville had nearly collapsed in full view of two hundred members of Society.
“You don’t sound convinced. Believe me, Brummell never lifted a finger to help his imitators. Like many who rise above their station, he became more arrogant than any nobleman. And his gaming was legendary, providing an unfortunate example for many young men. That is what ultimately destroyed him.”
Ellisham dropped the subject of his brother, instead launching a humorous tale about his aunt’s companion, whose duties included walking four dogs in the park every morning. She was a poor-spirited creature, which the dogs knew full well. Unable to assert herself even to a terrier, she invariably became entangled in leads.
“She is not the same aunt who owns Maximillian,” he added when she had finished laughing.
“That is obvious. Four terriers would dispose of that hairy rat for breakfast. Was he badly injured?”
“One small cut. He’s suffered worse.” He related several of the dog’s exploits.
By the time the music ceased, she was again relaxed. Whatever his brother’s faults, Lord Ellisham was fascinating.
“I’ve hovered here long enough to satisfy my mother,” he concluded. “We must chat again sometime. Nod in my direction when Lady Harriet’s card is full, so I needn’t waste time squiring the chit. She does not impress me as being endowed with an excess of intelligence.”
“A polite way of saying she is a pea-goose,” she agreed. “She really does need a husband who can take care of her.”
“But not me.”
“I know. All other considerations aside, she would drive you to distraction in an hour.”
Joanna lay awake long into the night, recalling that conversation. She could not believe that Lord Sedgewick was the benign person Ellisham described. Nor could she forget his angry eyes. They had started as light blue, but rapidly hardened into icy gray. When she finally succumbed to sleep, they slid into her dreams, pinning her down while he castigated her for every muddle she’d walked into in eight-and-twenty years.
Yet as the hours passed, they softened, brightening into a brilliant blue that twinkled with Reggie’s humor.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sedge returned to London at the height of the fashionable hour, slipping into his rooms with no one the wiser. Nine days had elapsed since he had fled his mother’s sitting room, but the journey had helped. He was calmer than he had been all Season.
Randolph’s estate adjoined Meadowbanks. The two evenings he had spent there had relaxed him as much as escaping London. His friends glowed with happiness. They had heard from Elizabeth’s mother and brother, who seemed eager to heal the family breach, removing a weight from Elizabeth’s shoulders.
Sedge had spent the rest of his time considering the qualities he wanted in a wife. Besides being intelligent, she must be reasonably pretty, with a refined sense of style and the skills to organize any e
ntertainment. He would have to buy a town house and become a host if he wished to maintain his social position. The sprigs would turn to younger mentors in a few more years anyway, but marriage would hasten that process. Young bucks rarely accepted direction from staid married men.
Thus he needed an educated hostess. He doubted that such a paragon could be found among the girls making their bows to Society, so he must consider ladies nearer his own age – but not spinsters. Women who had long been on the shelf usually had shortcomings he could not accept. Widows would be better. The late war had created a goodly number. He would begin looking at the better-born among them.
It was good to be back in London. He changed clothes, then sorted a mountain of invitations during dinner. One of the drawbacks of his position was being asked to every event in town, so ten days of mail seemed overwhelming – events held while he’d been gone, balls honoring assorted mushrooms, card parties, musicales, a dozen routs, two Venetian breakfasts, an expedition to Richmond, another to Hampton Court. The heap of discards grew. By the time he reached the apple tart, he was arranging the remaining invitations by date.
Tonight he would appear briefly at Lady Stafford’s rout, stay an hour at the Cunningham ball, pass another hour at the Barhampton ball, then drop by White’s for a few hands of cards.
But that agenda did not last very long. His mother pounced on him within moments of his arrival at Lady Cunningham’s. “I must speak with you, Sedgewick.”
“Leave it,” he drawled. “I’ve no wish to endure another of your scolds, and certainly not in so public a place.”
“It’s Reginald.” She compressed her lips, inhaled deeply several times, then pulled him behind a potted palm. “Thank heaven you have returned. I’ve been terrified that he would disgrace his breeding before you could talk some sense into him. He actually refused my summons this morning!”
“I thought he was settled.” His tone deliberately needled her, though given her penchant for criticism, who could blame Reggie for avoiding another confrontation?
“As did I. He has been dangling after Lady Harriet for nearly a fortnight, staying at her side through two sets every evening, calling on her three times, and driving her in the park twice. Even Mr. Lastmark’s attentions to Miss Lutterworth were not as blatant.”
She paused for a deep breath. “You will not have heard that tale, Sedgewick. It is the most shocking thing! Lady Beatrice claims they have eloped. The Lutterworths have not appeared in two days, and Brumford was scowling on Bond Street yesterday.”
“I know.” Her digression was hardly a surprise. She never ignored scandal, even when in the throes of her own hysteria. “At least they escaped safely. I had feared Miss Lutterworth might balk at the end.”
“You knew what they were planning?” Her voice squeaked with indignation.
He smiled. She had lost all control over her face. “She would have suffered greatly with Brumford.”
“That makes no difference.”
“It makes every difference.” His voice hardened. “Had I interfered, I would have been as guilty as Lutterworth of selling the chit to a vile swine.”
For once, she understood. “You had nothing to do with Cousin Caroline’s death, Sedgewick. It has been fifteen years. Let it rest.”
“I could have prevented her marriage.” He choked off the words. There was no point in raising the issue again, though the memories remained fresh. He alone had understood both Lufrond’s vicious nature and the threats that had forced Caroline into the match. But he had remained silent, unwilling to admit that he had spent a weekend in London when he was supposed to be in school, and even more loath to confess to eavesdropping on Lufrond in a brothel or to witnessing his uncle’s mad losses in an unsavory gaming hell. So his uncle had sold Caroline to Lufrond. Six months later, she had died, ostensibly from a fall down the stairs.
His mother frowned, also recalling that tragedy, for Caroline had been a family favorite. Her abstracted expression reminded him of that woman who’d embarrassed him so badly before he left town. Had she managed to kill herself yet?
The question raised new memories of crushing that delectable body against his own. Perhaps he should visit Jenny tonight instead of going to White’s. To distract himself, he returned to his mother’s original complaint. “What is wrong with Lady Harriet – aside from her age.”
“Nothing. She is sweet and would make a perfect marchioness. But I realized yesterday that Reggie pays her no heed.”
“Stays at her side, calls, driving—”
“He spends all his time talking to the girl’s companion,” she spat, interrupting. “He is infatuated with that witch!”
“Infatuated.” He quizzed her thoroughly. “With a companion.”
“How dare you treat me like one of your witless imitators.”
“You are making less sense than they do.”
“I am serious. How can he consider any companion, let alone that one! Her breeding is appalling. Granted, there is a remote connection to Wicksfield, but her father is a vicar in a parish so small he cannot earn more than twenty pounds a year. One of her brothers is apprenticed to a blacksmith. And her morals are outrageous. Lady Horseley heard that she’s been jilted twice, and Lady Wicksfield admits that some very havy-cavy doings led to her parents’ marriage. What does he see in her? Even her clothes are dowdy.”
“Do not turn this into a Cheltenham tragedy, Mother,” he said soothingly. “Reggie knows what he owes to the title. I cannot believe he would form an ineligible attachment.”
“Then you are naïve!” she snapped. “I have seen his face when he looks at her. He has allowed an unscrupulous fortune hunter to dig in her claws. You must get rid of her.”
“Me?”
“You. He refuses to listen to me. In fact he called me the most vile names when I mentioned her yesterday. We cannot allow the marquessate to fall into the hands of an encroaching mushroom. Aside from her breeding, she is too old to produce an heir.”
“How old is she?” For the first time he felt a ripple of unease. Like Prinny, Reggie preferred older women. His mistresses had all been over forty.
“She must be nearly thirty. And her manners are appalling. Why only last night, I heard her order Lady Wicksfield to summon their carriage. Her employer! I don’t know what threat she is using, but she runs that household. You must speak with Reggie. Make him recognize that she cares only for his title and wealth.”
“Very well. I will talk to him.”
“Thank you. Do so immediately. He is with her now.”
“Where?”
“Just beyond the young men hovering around Lady Harriet. Near the terrace door.”
He glanced around the palm. Reggie was facing him, his face alight with laughter. Even from this distance, he looked younger than his thirty-four years. Younger and happier.
His heart sank through the floor. Reggie’s expression matched the looks that Randolph had exchanged with Elizabeth at dinner last night. How could he be so foolish?
The woman’s back was turned, though her shoulders shook with laughter. How had she caught Reggie in her snare? Her hair was plain brown, pulled into a simple knot at her neck. A square of lace served as a spinster’s cap. Her high-necked gown was merely serviceable. Yet she had captivated one of the Marriage Mart’s prizes.
She must be beautiful and witty as well as scheming. A formidable adversary. So why could he raise no image of the woman?
He should never have left town. If he had stayed, he would have noticed that Reggie was heading for trouble. Working his way around the room, he exchanged greetings, quizzed an importunate sprig, and mildly cut a matron whose amorous antics were becoming too public.
“Can you spare me a moment, Reggie?” he asked quietly once he reached his brother.
Reggie jumped. “When did you return?”
“This afternoon.”
“May I present Miss Joanna Patterson? Joanna, my brother.”
Shock stalled his hea
rt. Spectacles. Pert nose. Unbecoming blush spreading past her hairline. “We have met,” he said coldly, even as his reaction confirmed that her bosom was anything but average. Was that what interested Reggie? It couldn’t be her mind.
“M-my lord.”
“A modest improvement in gowns since Bond Street.” He deliberately quizzed her bodice, pleased when she flushed even brighter.
“H-how d-dare—”
“Too bad your mind hasn’t improved.”
“I could say the same, my arrogant lord,” she snapped, finding her tongue. “Do you enjoy inflicting p-pain on p-people? How p-petty. No wonder Maximillian tried to b-bite you.”
“Your position is already precarious, Miss Patterson,” he said through clenched teeth, keeping his public facade intact with an effort. “Shall I send you back to the country where you belong?”
She blanched, making him curse under his breath. He had not meant to threaten her unless it was the only way to separate her from Reggie. But her lack of sense was obvious.
She slowly nodded. “I overestimated your consequence, my lord. The measure of a man is the stature of those he considers his enemies.”
The shaft hit home. But responding would trigger his temper – again. He could not survive another lapse into fury. It was miracle that he had yet to hear comment on their confrontation in Bond Street.
He maintained his dignity by turning to Reggie. “If I might have a word with you?” The situation could not be as serious as his mother thought. Reggie would never give his heart to an idiot, so he must be interested in less honorable activities. Something about Miss Patterson kindled unbelievable lust.
He gritted his teeth as Reggie whispered into her ear before bidding her a fond farewell.
“I’ve never seen you so rude, Sedge,” said Reggie when they had reached an antechamber.
“I dislike encroaching mushrooms, especially schemers.”
“Since when do you condemn without facts? Joanna is neither encroaching nor a mushroom. She is Lord Wicksfield’s cousin, Sir Nigel Patterson’s niece, and is related to many other noble families.”
“Which still leaves her well below your touch, Reggie,” he insisted, though her breeding was far better than their mother had claimed. “Stay away from her.”