by Joan Smith
A knock at the door interrupted her toilette. It was Agnes, the upstairs maid. “His lordship’s waiting for you in his study, milady,” she said, her eyes bulging. “He’s pacing and twitching his tail like a mad lion.”
“I shall be down presently, Agnes,” Lady Helena said unconcernedly. Then she sat down and filed her nails again for five minutes. She rose slowly, smoothed her gown, and descended to Severn’s study. Her heart was not palpitating, nor was she pale with fear, but there was a steely glint in her dark eyes.
Severn stopped his pacing and turned a scowl on her. “It’s about time you got here. I sent for you twenty minutes ago.”
“I suggest you word your request more civilly next time, milord. I am a poor hand at executing orders.” She sat in the chair by the desk and arranged her skirt about her, then lifted her chin and asked coolly, “Now, what is this urgent matter that has interrupted my toilette?”
“The urgent matter is your outing with Malvern. I told you I did not want him seeing you.”
“I remember your mentioning that he did not please you, milord. He finds acceptance with me, however. And with your good friends, the Comstocks, I might add.”
“It is no mitigation of the offense that you dragged Marion into it.”
“I did not drag her, I assure you. She pitched herself into the carriage uninvited. There was no escaping her.”
“I understand the crowd at this Spanish café consisted mostly of men—foreign men, at that.”
“No need to ask where you get your information. Obviously you have not spoken to the despised Mr. Malvern.”
“No, but by God, I shall. He has a lot of gall taking you there.”
She rose imperiously from her chair and directed a hard stare at him. “I asked him to take me. By all means, vent your spleen on me, Severn. I am not afraid of your little squalls. But I will not have you read a lecture to my friends. And don’t think you are weaseling out of having set Marion to watch me. Why else did you go running to her before coming home?”
“I happened to be passing South Audley Street—”
“You were not passing South Audley Street on your way home from Westminster. I am no longer a total stranger to the thoroughfares of London.”
Caught dead to rights, he did not defend, but attacked the harder. “I will not have Malvern in my house.”
“Your house, milord? I had not heard of your father’s demise. Lady Hadley is mistress of this establishment, and my chaperon.” She bit back the information that Lady Hadley was aware of the outing. Let the poor lady have her peace. There was no need of assistance in handling Severn.
“You pull the wool over Mama’s eyes. You don’t fool me.”
“And just what do you think I am trying to fool you about, Severn?” she demanded. “I asked Mr. Malvern to take me to a Spanish cafe because I was lonesome. I wanted to hear a voice from home. I think you might have done as much if you had been in Spain without hearing English for some time. Marion accompanied me. What is your objection? She enjoyed herself thoroughly, to judge by her simpering at Malvern. Perhaps that is what riles you!”
“I am indeed riled that you are debauching a young lady.”
“She is half a decade older than I, and if sipping coffee is considered debauchery, then there is no hope for England. The crime in my opinion is that we are forced to drink tea.”
“Spanish cafés may do well enough for you, Cousin. You have lived abroad and seen something of the world. Marion has led a tamer sort of life. I would appreciate your keeping her out of such adventures in the future. I would very strongly advise that you not develop any close relationship with Malvern. To say Mama is your chaperon is mere quibbling. While under this roof, you are under my protection. I repeat, I do not want Malvern coming to this house. It leaves the impression I approve of him, I do not. If he is so unwise as to ask for your hand, I shall tell him precisely why.”
“I see your real concern is for Marion,” she said, with a toss of her curls. “I shall be more than happy to exclude her, if you can convince her she is not welcome. God knows it has never stopped her in the past.”
“My concern is not only ... not mostly for Marion. Her mother is in charge of her conduct, though I should dislike to see her fall into poor company on your account.”
“Very well, Severn. You do not wish to see Mr. Malvern at Belgrave Square. As a guest in the house, I must accede to your request. I shall take care that he does not return, and I promise you I shall let Marion know your feelings. Was there anything else you wished to get off your chest?”
Severn did not feel he had gotten anything off his chest thus far. Indeed the burden seemed to have increased. He could see as clear as glass that Lady Helena was in the boughs, and a Lady Helena in such a mood was capable of anything.
“It is not my intention to cramp your style, Cousin,” he said more gently. “London offers sufficient proper amusements that one need not go out of the way to find improper ones.”
“You are quite mistaken to think that Spanish ladies and gentlemen are less proper than their English counterparts. I was never out of sight of my duena with a gentleman, and if I had been, it would have made no difference in his behavior. It seems the English gentlemen are less trustworthy. I shall bear it in mind, milord. Now if there is nothing more ...”
“One more item. About this Juan fellow. It will not do to have guitar music at your ball. No one would know how to dance to such foreign tunes.”
“One does not usually dance at a concert. I meant to have a short musical interlude, perhaps at the supper hour, for listening only,”
“Hardly to guitar music, surely!”
“Don’t display your horrid English prejudice,” she sniffed. “You mock something you have never heard. I suggest you go to El Cafeto and hear some real music. It might do you a world of good.”
His reply surprised her. “Where would I find this Cafeto?”
“On Orange Street off Haymarket. Be prepared to drink real coffee, not tea. That is something else that will astonish your deliquescent taste buds.”
“I frequently drink coffee.”
“Not Spanish coffee. It is like the Spanish race—stronger and more flavorful than the English variety.”
“You find us dull?”
“Even when you think you are being ferocious,” she said, smiling. “Poor Eduardo. You would not frighten a kitten. But perhaps your little temper will keep Marion in line.” With a bold smile, she left the room.
Severn watched her depart, her head high and her stride easy. Her skirts swayed in a seductive manner unlike that of English ladies’ skirts. He was far from feeling he had had the better of their encounter. She had not promised not to see Malvern, only not to bring him to the house, which was more dangerous than seeing him here.
He understood that she might be lonesome for some echo of Spain. Perhaps he had been too hard on her. He would make it a point to take her to the Spanish café one of these days, to show her his heart was in the right place. At least he could be easy in his mind tonight. There was little likelihood that Malvern would have a ticket to Lady Mobrey’s ball.
On this self-deluding thought, he went abovestairs to make his toilette. Lord Severn’s party, including the Comstocks and a few dozen other elite, was invited to dinner at Lady Mobrey’s before her ball. This was convenient to Helena’s plan, as it meant an early attendance at the ball and a possibility of removing to Mrs. Stephen’s rout at eleven. Helena expected to find Severn in the boughs after their argument and determined to have him back in humor before eleven. To this end, she made a toilette designed to please him. Her white gown was a model of propriety. Sally brushed her curls to a gloss and set a diamond-studded butterfly among them. A modest string of pearls hung at her throat. She felt she looked a perfect dowd.
She wore her most ingratiating smile when she descended the staircase and was surprised to see Severn wearing a similar face. Far from being on his high ropes, he seemed determined t
o cajole her into humor as well.
“Lovely, as usual, Cousin,” he said, taking her hand at the bottom of the stairs. That he was there awaiting her was already an indication of approval. When he was out of sorts, he waited in the saloon with his mama.
“I hope I have not kept you waiting, Eduardo,” she said, knowing full well she was early.
“On the contrary, we have time for a glass of sherry before leaving to pick up the Comstocks.”
They had their sherry with Lady Hadley and the party she had invited to dine with her. Helena made the rounds of the company, having a few words with each of the elderly guests. At the appointed time, she and Severn left to pick up the Comstocks. Helena did not mention Mrs. Stephen’s rout, but she had the invitations in her reticule. She would “remember” it just before eleven and suggest they drop in for a moment.
The last person she expected to assist her was Mrs. Comstock, and again she was surprised. The Comstocks were no sooner in the carriage than the dame said, “I hope you have brought along your cards for Mrs. Stephen’s rout, Severn. We must drop in there for a bit after Mobrey’s do.”
“Why do you want to go there?” he asked. “Mobrey’s will be more interesting.”
“I cannot offend Mrs. Stephen. We work together on many charity affairs. I have assured her we shall attend.”
Helena casually opened her reticule. “I believe I have the cards here,” she said. “Yes, that was fortunate.”
“No harm to drop in for a moment,” Severn agreed, and the thing was done.
Helena planned to have her duty dance with Severn at the ball to insure being free of him at Stephen’s rout. As they sat side by side at dinner, she tried to arrange it then.
“As you will be having the opening minuet with Marion, Eduardo, I want to claim you for the second set. May I put you down on my card for the cotillion?”
“Why not for the minuet?” he asked, flattered at her eagerness but a little chagrined that she assumed he owed Marion the first dance.
“I just assumed you and Marion would—”
“I have not asked her. You are my houseguest. Put me down for the minuet.”
“But her feelings will be hurt, Eduardo. No, no. I will not set myself up as competition for Cousin Marion.”
“Good God, you sound as though I were courting her.”
She gave him a saucy smile. “Are you not? She is constantly at Belgrave Square.”
“I asked her to drop by to be company for you.”
“Too kind. Do you also call on her after work on my behalf ? I assure you I am not that enamored of the lady. And I promise you she does not like me above half.”
Severn already suspected where Marion’s thoughts were heading. To hear confirmed that others suspected it frightened him to death. “Put me down for the minuet,” he said firmly.
She drew out her dance book and entered his name. “I took a book as I entered and have already lined up all the most eligible gentlemen. Until eleven, my book is full. I know Mrs. Comstock wishes to leave early.”
“Twelve is early enough, I think.”
“That late?” she asked. “The rout will not last as long as the ball. I think we should arrive earlier, Eduardo.”
“Perhaps you are right,” he said, with a mischievous smile. “And you may put me down for the first dance at Mrs. Stephen’s do as well.”
Helena laughed at his trickery. “I see a new trend for young couples here. They might have every dance together by the simple expedient of dashing to all the parties, having one dance at each.”
“Where else are we invited this evening?” he asked.
“To several other dos, but I brought only Mrs. Stephen’s cards with me. In any case, mere friends do not monopolize each other’s dance card. And now we really must have a word with our other partner, or we will be taken for yahoos.”
Severn turned his conversation to Marion, and Helena to a Lord Depuis, on her other side. She was a little concerned about that dance with Severn at Stephen’s rout, but it would be the first dance. He would have no reason to keep an eye on her after they had had their dance. As soon as it was over, she would seek Malvern out.
Mrs. Mobrey’s ball was lovely. Her ballroom was decorated with flowers and had a maypole in the center. All the ton were there. Helena was much sought after. The only displeasure she caused was when she had to turn down several partners due to her early departure. Perhaps Miss Comstock was a little miffed not to have the minuet with Severn, but she had the cotillion and made do with that. She, too, spent the better part of one of the Season’s major balls anticipating her departure.
Severn’s party took their leave of the hostess at the appointed hour. She parted with them reluctantly, but her ball could truthfully be called a “squeeze,” and no hostess could ask more than that.
The Stephen’s rout was a sad comedown. The house was smaller and less grand, the orchestra dwindled from a dozen musicians to four, and the refreshments from champagne to orgeat and punch. Most worrying of all, Helena feared that her absence would be noticed in the thinly populated rooms. Soon another fear came to goad her. There was little likelihood of Malvern not being spotted by Severn in this small group.
She looked around the room for Mr. Malvern and was attacked by yet another fear. One look confirmed that he was not there. The Comstocks also seemed to be looking for someone.
“Perhaps he is in the card parlor,” Mrs. Comstock said aside to Marion. “I shall root him out.” Marion went with her.
Severn turned to Helena. “Time for our second dance, Cousin.”
“No, no, Eduardo. Our first dance at this rout. You will be putting ideas in folks’ heads if we are seen standing up together twice.”
“Oh, it is a country dance,” he said, disappointed that it was to be a free-for-all, with no privacy. He had hoped for a waltz, now that Helena had been given permission by Almack’s to indulge this vice. “Perhaps we should wait....”
“You don’t sound very eager to dance with me,” she said, adopting a moue to distract him. Then she put her hand in his and drew him on to the floor.
The exigencies of the romp demanded most of her attention, but she noticed between steps that the room was filling up, and she was happy for it. It seemed that Mrs. Stephen’s rout was not on the top of anyone’s list, but as the evening wore on, folks hopped from one party to another, and Mrs. Stephen was well enough thought of that her do was included on their list.
Her wandering eye also noticed that Marion had latched on to Malvern. Wouldn’t Severn be in the boughs if he saw that! Whenever his head turned in their direction, Helena was quick to divert him. She managed to catch Malvern’s eye herself, however, and nodded toward the door, hoping he would realize she wanted to meet him there.
As soon as the dance was over, she said, “These country dances are death on a lady’s toilette. I must freshen up. You may have another dance with Marion now, Eduardo.”
“I rather thought I might ask the pretty blonde chatting with Mrs. Stephen to stand up with me.” Severn was not trying to make Helena jealous. He only wished to put out of her mind the notion that he and Marion were romantically involved.
Helena did feel a little twinge of annoyance. The blonde was very pretty. But accomplishing her errand took priority, and to that end she said, “But you will stand up with Marion again. She might take a miff if you don’t.” That would keep him occupied for two sets, long enough to go to the Spanish ball and get back, if all went well.
She made her way to the door. Seeing no sign of Malvern, she kept going, in case Severn was watching. She found Malvern lurking in the hallway.
“What are we to use for a carriage?” were his first words.
She stared at him in dismay. “Did you not bring one?”
“I don’t have one. I thought you would bring yours.”
“No, I came with Severn. Oh, dear! We shall have to hire a hansom cab. Let us go at once. You have the dominoes?”
�
��They are stashed in a bag in a small, dark parlor. I said I was leaving for a country visit immediately after the ball.”
“How resourceful of you! But we cannot leave together. I shall slip out by a side door and meet you in the street. We must hurry, or our absence will be noticed.”
“I’ve had a look around. There’s a door to the outside in the small parlor. We can both leave unnoticed from there.”
“You have done this sort of thing before!” She laughed.
“Not with a deb,” he said, obviously worried.
They sneaked into the parlor when no one was looking and then out the side door together. They donned their dominoes outside the door before going into the street. They had to walk a block before an empty hansom cab passed and was hailed.
“I don’t know what Mrs. Comstock would say if she heard of this,” Malvern grouched as the coach rumbled toward the café.
“Are you setting your cap for Miss Comstock?” she inquired with interest.
“No, but I have a suspicion she is cocking her bonnet at me. I hope it is the case. She has ten thousand.”
“Oh, Malvern! Really! Would you marry for such a reason?”
“Why not? The rest of the world does. I shall offend you by hinting it is not only your beaux yeux that have all the gentlemen in a flap, but I think your beauty is only half the reason. All the world knows you have a dot of twenty-five thousand pounds.”
“Are you suggesting the Duke of Rutledge, with four palatial estates, is—”
“Actually, I was thinking of Severn. He is like a dog with a bone when he is with you. Severn is renowned for his way with shillings and pence, you must know. Brougham did not make him financial critic for no reason.”
“There is nothing between Severn and me!” she exclaimed. Yet he had harped on Malvern’s empty pockets. And, of course, he knew to a penny how much she had. He had been quite eager to take over her finances from Lady Hadley. She stored up Malvern’s idle comment for future consideration.
“It ain’t for any lack of trying on his part. He’d snap your dowry up fast enough if you gave him half a chance. And so would I snap up Marion’s. Such a match would be the making of me. If I had ten thousand behind me, I could stand for Parliament. It would not be long before I made my way.”