The Spanish Lady

by Joan Smith

  “It is a pity you did not care to accompany them.”

  “I was not invited, Severn. Shabby manners!”

  Rutledge left in restored spirits, and Severn pondered Helena’s disinterest in the duke. Rutledge was a dull old fellow, when all was said and done. He would think of someone livelier for Helena. No hurry, the Season was just beginning.

  Her disinterest was confirmed after the trip to Astley’s.

  “Did you enjoy your outing?” Severn inquired over dinner.

  “The riders are very skilled. I cannot imagine how they maintain their balance, standing barefoot on the horses. I would have been satisfied with one show. However, Rutledge wanted to stay and see it all a second time. It would have been more interesting if we had been with a group. Perhaps Marion would like to come with us to Richmond Gardens tomorrow.”

  “You can ask her at Almack’s this evening,” Severn said.

  Helena wondered at Mr. Malvern’s delay in calling on her. Her first question upon returning from any outing was to ask whether she had had any callers. She left word with Sugden that if Mr. Malvern called, he was to leave a message. That seemed the easiest way out of the dilemma of his promised call. Severn had hinted that she ought not to see him, and she disliked to entertain him at Belgrave Square after that hint. If he left Moira’s address, she would write him a thank-you note. If he asked for an interview, she would arrange to meet him away from the house. Now that she had her own carriage, this was by no means impossible.

  His failure to come suggested that he had not yet gotten any word on Mrs. Petrel-Jones. She could advertise, as Malvern had suggested, but then that would bring Moira to Belgrave Square, and the toplofty Severn had also hinted that this was ineligible. Really, he was impossible! Was everyone in England so proud? What would Severn say when he learned that her papa planned to marry Moira? No doubt that would make her undesirable as well.

  She felt, at times, as if she was living at Belgrave Square under false pretenses. She also felt that she was not executing her father’s errand with the promptness and vigor that he expected and deserved. She knew there was virtually no chance of seeing Moira at dull, prestigious Almack’s. Moira would not go, even in the unlikely event that she received a voucher. Orgeat and playing cards for chicken stakes were not her idea of an enjoyable evening.

  The visit to Almack’s went off much as she expected. It was a very proper affair. She stood up with Severn, and the duke, and a few similar types. The patronesses were pleased with her, and Lady Jersey gave her permission to waltz. That, at least, was good news, but when she returned home, she suffered a fit of the dismals.

  Before retiring, she tiptoed to Lady Hadley’s bedchamber and said, “May I have a word with you, Madrina?”

  Lady Hadley saw her worried little face and exclaimed, “You have had an offer from Rutledge! I knew it would come to this. My dear, I can see perfectly well that it has put you in the blue devils, but you need not fear. You do not have to accept him. Just say no, and we shan’t tell anyone he offered.”

  “No, I did not let him ask me. I have discouraged him,” she said, “for I could see his heart was more strongly engaged than mine. I told him it would not do. If we go out again, it will be as friends only.”

  “Is there someone else, then?” she asked fearfully.

  Lady Helena sat on the edge of the bed and took her godmother’s two hands. “I fear you will not like what I am about to say, Madrina. Indeed I fear you will ask me to leave when you hear—”

  “Good God! You ain’t enceinte!”

  “Que? What is ‘enceinte’?”

  “Never mind, dear. I am a foolish old lady. You could not possibly be, unless it happened before you left Spain or on the ship. In either case, it would not be my fault.”

  “The trouble is Papa,” Helena said.

  “You are missing him?”

  “That, too, very much, but it is not missing him that troubles me at this moment. It is Mrs. Petrel-Jones,” she said, and opened her budget to reveal her guilty secret. “So I must find her, yet Edward does not like me to see her or anyone who might know her. And if Papa marries her, then perhaps he will dislike that I stayed here without telling him of the connection. She is not considered déclassé in Spain, you understand. She was accepted everywhere, including at court.”

  “And she will be accepted here,” Lady Hadley said, bridling up in defense of this stranger. “I never heard such nonsense. I am the mistress of this house, not Master Jackanapes Severn.”

  “Then may I put an advertisement in the journals and leave your house as my address?”

  “Certainly you may. I shall make inquiries myself.”

  “Do you think Eduardo will be very angry?”

  “I pay no heed to his sulks, but to avoid having to look at his Friday face, we shan’t tell him. It is none of his business. We shall keep him in the dark for our own comfort. Now you go straight to your room and write up your notices. I shall have a footman take them around to all the journals in the morning.”

  “You are so very simpática, Madrina. How did you come to have such a proud son?”

  “He takes after his papa. I cannot do a thing with Hadley either. That is why I run away to London alone every spring, to regain my fortitude for the long winter. I am too tired to argue about everything, so I just do as he says, but I also do what I please behind his back.”

  “It would have been better if you had bearded the lion at the beginning, no es verdad? A cub is easier to train than a fully grown lion.”

  “I ought to have put my foot down long ago. Any little thing the least bit out of the ordinary upsets him. He never wants me to change the curtains or furniture, or invite anyone new to dinner. I cannot imagine how he is not a Tory, except that the family have been Whigs forever, and he would not like to change.”

  It was not until Helena had returned to her bedchamber that Lady Hadley realized she had not pointed out that Edward was quite different from his papa. She hoped she had not given Helena the wrong idea. Really, those two would suit rather well. Unless two headstrong youngsters under one roof might lead to violence ...

  Chapter Nine

  Severn had viewed the splendors of Richmond Hill many times in the past. When he learned that Marion was to accompany Helena and Rutledge on the outing, he felt no further chaperon was required. He was becoming wary of being too much in Marion’s company. She was beginning to speak in a proprietary way of Severn and herself as “us,” versus the “them” of the duke and Helena.

  Richmond Hill was popular as an afternoon’s outing to enjoy the Terrace Gardens, the water, and the pavilions, finishing with a stop at the Star and Garter Hotel for a well-earned tea. While awaiting a table, they strolled out to view the Italian-style garden of the hotel.

  “Is it not beautiful?” Marion said, gazing at the panorama below. The Star and Garter was at the crest of the hill.

  There was no gainsaying its beauty. The rolling hills, dotted with banks of flowers, were indeed breathtaking. But their beauty was of a tame sort that did not strike Helena as the very epitome of beauty. Something in her yearned for the starker grandeur of Spain. She found Richmond Hill reminded her of a beautiful English lady, made beautiful more by art and contrivance than by nature.

  Even its art and contrivance lacked the bold stroke of Spain’s. She preferred the rugged grandeur of nature’s own mountains and sea.

  Helena sighed nostalgically and said what was expected. “It is lovely. I have never seen anything quite like it before.” She turned to smile her pleasure and saw Malvern staring at her over Marion’s shoulder. He was with a mixed group of ladies and gentlemen.

  As they all looked perfectly respectable, Helena did not hesitate to excuse herself for a moment and join them. “Mr. Malvern, I have been hoping you would call,” she said, darting up to him.

  He bowed gracefully. “Lady Helena! Now the view is complete. There was a—something lacking. You have added the coup de grace.”
>
  “Fine words, sir, but you do not distract me from my quest. Have you found Mrs. Petrel-Jones?”

  “I planned to call later this afternoon. I have not forgotten your request, Lady Helena. I had no luck in discovering your friend’s address, but I learned she is often to be found at a little coffee shop where the Spanish coterie meet. It is called El Cafeto. The émigrés meet there. I thought we might go there one morning.”

  She wished Malvern had gone there himself and discovered Moira’s address for her. His asking to take her could be an excuse to be with her, but he owed her nothing, after all. It was kind of him to have done this much, and as Lady Hadley was now aware of the situation, Helena agreed to go. The morning hour suited her. Severn usually went to the House in the morning. She could be home without his ever knowing she had gone.

  “That is kind of you. What hour would be convenient?”

  “Eleven o’clock tomorrow? Shall I call for you?”

  “Yes, please,” she said eagerly.

  “Perhaps we could take your rig. I have not set up a carriage. I know you have your own, as I have seen you dashing along Bond Street, turning everyone’s head. You are to be complimented on your prowess as a whip.”

  “Doing it too brown, Mr. Malvern. I am a very tyro. Would it be more convenient for me to meet you there?”

  “Oh, no.” He laughed. “If you have convinced your chaperon to let me darken the door, I shall call for you.”

  “You are too foolish.” She laughed, embarrassed at accepting a favor from him when there was some doubt as to his being allowed to enter the house.

  “I shall call on you at eleven sharp. You see how eager I am to win your approval. I do not usually arise until noon.”

  “You should be ashamed to own it, sir. That suggests you are out hell-raking till the small hours of the morning.”

  “You should try it sometime,” he said daringly. “There are livelier dos than Almack’s in London.”

  “You tempt me, Mr. Malvern. I look forward to seeing you at eleven tomorrow.”

  She left to rejoin her own party. Marion, she noticed, had edged closer to Malvern’s group. Had she overheard the arrangements? No matter, she never came to call so early.

  They were soon shown in to a table to enjoy a glass of wine and the Maid of Honor cheesecakes that were a feature of the hotel. Rutledge was an eager host and entertained the ladies as well as he could. Several young groups stopped to talk to them. With an outing to the theater to look forward to that evening, they then returned home.

  “Perhaps you would be kind enough to take Miss Comstock home, Duke?” Helena said when they reached Belgrave Square.

  “Mama is calling on Lady Hadley this afternoon. I am to meet her here,” Marion said. The duke walked them to the door, hoping for a private word with Helena, but Marion stood her ground until he left.

  “Would anyone mind very much if I take my siesta now?” Lady Helena said when they entered the saloon. “I have a slight migraine.”

  “In Spain, they take a nap every afternoon,” Lady Hadley explained to the others. “They call it siesta. Cousina is teaching me Spanish, eh, Cousina.”

  “You are making remarkable strides, ma’am.”

  “Sleep in the middle of the afternoon?” Mrs. Comstock exclaimed. “How do they ever get any work done?” She added aside to her hostess, “You want to break the gel of these foreign customs.”

  “Run along and have your siesta, Cousina,” Lady Hadley said. “I find it a lovely idea, Audrey. I shall try it myself one of these days, when I am free of visitors.” She looked hopefully to her guests, but they sat on.

  Marion had revealed to her mama that Severn was a likelier prospect than Rutledge. Mrs. Comstock knew very well that Marion was aiming too high to hope for a ducal parti and lowered her sites accordingly. They both awaited Severn’s return. When he arrived, his eyes scanned the room. “Where is Helena?” he asked.

  “Having her siesta, Edward. She had a touch of migraine.”

  “Not serious, I hope?”

  “No, no.”

  Marion’s eager face told him she wanted to speak to him. She poured him a cup of tea and took it to a sofa, a little apart from the other ladies. “How was the outing to Richmond Hill?” he asked.

  “Interesting. Lady Helena went darting off after a rackety crew of bucks. It was a Mr. Malvern that she spoke to.”

  A frown drew Severn’s eyebrows together. “She met him at Lady Perth’s ball. He is only after her fortune, of course.”

  “He did not seek her out. She went scrambling after him in an ill-bred way. Rutledge was shocked. Did you ever ask her about Moira? I mentioned that Spanish lady named Moira. I managed to get a peek in her reticule today. She has a letter for Moira. Very odd. I overheard Malvern mentioning something about the Spanish émigrés usually meeting somewhere. He is taking Helena there tomorrow. She did not ask me to join her.”

  “She is up to something, by God!”

  “They are leaving at eleven. I shall call at ten-thirty.”

  “That is very kind of you, Marion. I appreciate your help in this matter. I would go myself, but—”

  “You have more important matters to attend to than overseeing her carrying on. One hears you are doing fine work at the House.” She smiled, taking this as an effort to please her. “I am happy to assist you, Edward.”

  She had never called him Edward before. It sounded worrisome on her lips. The whole affair had a conspiratorial air about it that he disliked. It was interfering of Marion to have looked in Helena’s reticule. Yet Malvern was certainly up to no good. Helena must be protected from her own naïveté.

  “Between us, we shall hint her in the duke’s direction,” she said complacently. “We shall let them sit together at the theater tonight. Your mama has invited me and Mama. You and I will sit in the back of the box. It will be more—private,” she said daringly.

  Severn laughed nervously. “The duke is a tame enough fellow. No fear of his getting out of line. You ladies will like to sit in the front seats.”

  At the theater, however, Miss Comstock had her way. She stopped at the back seats and drew Severn down beside her. “I do not mind sitting in the back, Edward,” she said. “We will be able to overhear everything they say from here.”

  Severn flinched at this calculating speech. The other couple’s conversation was easily overheard in the small box, but it was hardly worth listening to. Rutledge’s first disappointment at the unprepossessing physical appearance of Kean soon turned to praise. “A demmed fine performance.” Lady Helena agreed with the rest of London that Kean could deliver a rant with the best of them.

  They went to the Clarendon for supper after the performance. Over a braised guinea hen, Rutledge said, “Now that you have seen our professional ranters, Lady Helena, would you like to visit the House tomorrow morning and hear the amateurs?”

  “I’m afraid I have a previous appointment, Duke,” she said, and immediately rushed on to speak of other things.

  Marion gave a sapient nod in Severn’s direction.

  “I shall let you know what transpires,” she said in a low voice.

  “Very kind,” he said, falling deeper into her debt.

  Helena observed the growing closeness between Severn and Marion and wondered at it. Were they in love?

  Lady Hadley retired as soon as their carriage reached Belgrave Square. Severn poured two glasses of wine and handed Helena one. “How did you enjoy Richmond Hill?” he asked.

  “Spain has spoiled me for such tame beauty, but I thanked the duke very prettily.”

  “You and Rutledge are rubbing along well, I take it?”

  “He is tolerably amusing,” she allowed, then gave him a knowing look. “If you are hatching plans for a wedding between us, however, I must disillusion you. I will not marry him.”

  “Has he asked you already!”

  “No, I did not permit him to ask, for I dislike refusing. If you were counting on him to get me of
f your hands, Eduardo, your plan has not worked.” She spoke lightly, but he sensed an undercurrent of anger. She could not possibly know his plan.

  “Why, we are in no hurry to lose you, Cousin.” He smiled. “We are just getting to know each other.”

  Again she smote him with a sharp look. “There you are mistaken, my friend. You have not begun to know me yet at all. You may feel obliged to marry where your father decrees; I shall marry where I wish, and I shall not hide behind anyone’s skirts to do it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She measured him with a cool look. “I think you do, Severn. You cannot be unaware of our fathers’ wish that we marry. Why else was I sent that miniature likeness of you?”

  “What miniature? I know nothing of it.” His frown dwindled to a sneer. “Odd you mistook me for Sugden when you arrived, as you were apparently familiar with my face.”

  Caught dead to rights, she had to admit it. “I was angry that you apparently did not recognize a lady when you saw one. Your whole behavior in not having me met at the boat was nothing less than an insult. I think you did it on purpose. You do not wish to marry me, and rather than tell your father so, you tried to give me a disgust of you. That is pusillanimous behavior. You hide behind my skirts, leaving it for me to be the one to refuse.”

  “How can you refuse when I have not offered and have no intention of doing so?”

  “Have you told your father this?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you are a coward, sir. I see precisely what you are about, trying to palm me off on Rutledge while you appear to be doing Hadley’s bidding by escorting me here and there in a halfhearted way. I would think better of you if you stood up like a man and told your father and me that you do not care for the match. That is what a gentleman would do. Are you a puppy, to be afraid of a little scolding for disobedience?”