by Brenda Hiatt
Brie bent to pat the mare's neck. "Thank you for a lovely ride, Bessie," she said firmly.
Sir Frederick raised an amused eyebrow but said nothing. They walked their horses in silence for several minutes, the groom slowly falling back at a silent signal from his master.
"Shall we dismount and walk for a bit, Miss Gordon?" he asked presently. She glanced at him, and though his expression seemed innocent enough, somehow Brie felt that it would be unwise to comply.
"No, thank you," she replied in a politely regretful tone. "I really should be getting back. My sister had planned to take me shopping before nuncheon, I believe."
"As you wish, of course," responded Sir Frederick affably. "I only wished to show you a particularly charming garden just the other side of this copse, which artists have been known to admire. Are you certain you would rather not?"
It seemed churlish now to refuse, but Brie realised uncomfortably that they were in a particularly secluded area of the Park and that the groom, suddenly, was nowhere in sight. She was wondering how to diplomatically decline when a voice spoke from behind them.
"Good morning, Miss Gordon, Sir Frederick," drawled the Duke of Ravenham. "Might I accompany you on your ride?" His tone was careless, but when Brie swung round to face him, with something resembling a gasp of relief, she noticed a hardness in his eyes that belied his smile. He was as handsome as ever this morning, astride a roan stallion which dwarfed Sir Frederick's black.
"Thank you, your grace, but I was just about to return home," she said somewhat breathlessly, glancing over at Sir Frederick. She thought that he seemed displeased to see the duke, but he spoke civilly enough.
"Yes, Ravenham, we have concluded our ride, and I was about to escort Miss Gordon back to her sister's house." As a dismissal, this speech fell short of its object.
"I had thought to escort her myself, Sir Frederick," replied Ravenham, his tone still pleasant. "You have had the pleasure of her company for the past hour and more, after all."
Sir Frederick looked as if he would like to protest, but did not quite dare. The two men locked eyes for a moment, and then Sir Frederick nodded grudgingly.
"If you insist, your grace," he said at last, his tone making a mockery of the title. "A lesser mortal like myself must stand aside, I see. Try not to forget me, Miss Gordon," he concluded, sketching a bow from the saddle.
"I will have the mare sent round within the hour, Sir Frederick," she said, uncertain how to react to this byplay. Why did these two gentlemen dislike each other so?
"As you wish," he said nonchalantly and set spur to his mount, leaving Brie alone with the Duke.
"What were you doing out here alone with that fellow?" asked Ravenham abruptly before she could speak.
She blinked up at him in surprise. "Why, he called to take me riding. That is perfectly respectable, is it not? And we were not alone; the groom was there."
"His groom, I doubt not, who had conveniently disappeared. And while riding may be perfectly respectable, Sir Frederick More is not. It was shatterbrained, even for an innocent like yourself, to come out alone in his company like that. I would not have thought even Lady Platt would be blind to the risk."
"Risk? What risk?" Brie was now convinced that she had imagined anything improper in Sir Frederick's suggestion a few moments ago. He certainly had behaved more pleasantly than the Duke! "Was he about to carry me off, do you think? Sir Frederick behaved like a gentleman, which is more than I can say for you, running him off like that!"
"You should be thanking me rather than attacking me," said the Duke drily, a glimmer of amusement beginning to appear in his rigid face. "It can do you no good whatever to be seen in Sir Frederick's company, no matter how smooth his manners appear to be. The man is a hardened rake."
"He is a good friend of my sister's," said Brie primly. "As it happens, he called to take both of us riding, but she was unable to go." They were moving at a brisk trot through the streets as they spoke, and were drawing near to the Platt residence. "Come in and ask her if you do not believe me, your grace," she finished with a challenging glare.
"Oh, I have no trouble believing you. Your sister is not the first married woman to have her name linked with Sir Frederick's."
Brie looked at him in puzzlement for a moment, then felt colour flame into her face as his meaning became clear. "How dare you?" she demanded angrily.
"I apologise, Miss Gordon," he said quickly. "That should never have been said to a young lady. In any event, it was completely beneath me to repeat common gossip, for which I have no evidence."
Brie lapsed abruptly from righteous indignation on her sister's behalf into an embarrassed silence. The embarrassment, however, was not so much at what his grace had implied as at the realisation that it might possibly be true, based on what she herself had seen and heard. At the very least, her sister must have been indiscreet enough to give rise to speculation by the observant, leading to that "common gossip."
Hard on the heels of that thought, however, followed another: the memory of the Duke of Ravenham alone in the parlour of an inn in the company of a woman who was not his wife. How dared he censure her sister— or Sir Frederick —when he himself was just as bad? It was even possible that the woman had been some other man's wife though, remembering her appearance, she thought it far more likely that she had been one of those less-than-virtuous "ladies" that Sir Seymour had once referred to as "Cyprians." Not that it made any difference!
Her chin came up as she prepared to challenge him on that point, but as she opened her mouth, she realised that to do so would be to admit that previous meeting, which the Duke seemed to have forgotten. He was regarding her expectantly, she belatedly realised.
"Do you wish to come in, your grace?" she finally asked rather lamely, glad that their arrival at the house provided an excuse for her to speak.
"No, thank you, Miss Gordon. It has been my pleasure to be of service to you," he said meaningfully, making it obvious that he felt she should have thanked him for that service. Instead, she looked daggers at him and the amusement in his grey eyes deepened.
"Good day, then, your grace," she said. Thank him? She felt more like throwing her crop at him!
By this time, one of the Platts' grooms had materialised to help her to dismount, and she did so in silence, wondering why the Duke sat there watching her rather than taking himself off. Suddenly recollecting something, she turned to the groom.
"Please have this horse taken back to Sir Frederick More's stables. No doubt you can get his direction from someone."
"I knows it already, miss," said the young groom, with a half smile Brie was certain she did not like. She was afraid he might embellish his remark, so she forestalled him.
"Fine, then you should have no trouble," she said, pointedly dismissing the man. She was fuming at the fact that she had allowed the Duke of Ravenham to collect another piece of evidence against her sister. And still the infuriating Duke did not leave!
"I find it curious," he drawled idly, a strange smile twisting his mouth, "that a girl who is so opposed to cruelty to animals could be at all attracted to a man like Sir Frederick, who is hardly known for his kindness to man or beast."
It took perhaps two seconds for the significance of his statement to strike Brie. "You knew? All this time you knew, and never said a word?" Her anger was momentarily forgotten in sheer amazement.
"There could not be two girls in England with those remarkable turquoise eyes— united with the same outspokenness," he explained reasonably, obviously enjoying her chagrin. "Perhaps someday I'll invite you to my stables to observe for yourself how well I have heeded your strictures."
The knowledge that he was laughing at her served to rekindle her anger. "I hope you have, your grace," she retorted haughtily, her momentary embarrassment forgotten. "My views have not changed in the slightest, even if my gowns have."
"I'm glad to hear it," he replied, suddenly serious. There was something in his eyes which caused her
own to fall, though this time not precisely with embarrassment. He seemed to be silently probing her— but for what?
"Try to take care, Miss Gordon," he said gently after a slight pause during which she refused to meet his eyes. "I would not have you hurt. The most vicious beasts in London are not animals, you know."
At this reference to the episode in the Park, her head came back up defiantly. "Thank you for the warning," she said sarcastically. "I will undertake to behave myself. Again, I bid you good day, your grace."
With a smile, he touched a finger to his forehead in a mock salute and rode away, leaving her on the doorstep. What an infuriating man! she thought. His mood seemed to change like lightning, so that she never knew where she stood with him, or what he was thinking. There, just for a moment ...
But no, she would allow no tenderness towards a man who could so mistreat an animal —or even allow one of his lackeys to do so, as she had begun to suspect had been the case. Not that that excused him! Though, if he had indeed taken her strictures to heart, he might well be mending his ways.
Confused, but with her spirits unaccountably lighter, Brie turned to walk up the front steps.
* * *
CHAPTER 8
Almack's was not quite what Brie had expected. True, the ladies and gentlemen present were as elegant as could be imagined, the men especially so in their formal knee-breeches. Everything and everyone seemed to exude propriety —though this perception might have been an effect of Angela's strictures on the behaviour expected in these sacrosanct rooms.
It was the rooms themselves which she found slightly disappointing, for they seemed surprisingly ordinary. She had expected them to be papered and furnished with gold, at the very least, after the glowing encomiums she had received from her sister. During the ride here, the Duke of Ravenham had hinted that this would not be the case, but she had been too nervous about what amounted to her formal debut to pay him much heed.
Lady Platt had managed not to be in evidence when the Duke called for her sister, perhaps doubting her ability to be civil under the crushing disappointment she felt at not being one of the party. Brie could not help but be grateful that she was thus spared any parting advice.
As they had entered the handsome, crested carriage, the Duke had presented Brie to his sister, a pretty, unassuming girl with hair of a deeper brown than her own, who appeared to be near in age to herself. Brie had liked Lady Elizabeth at once and sensed that the feeling was mutual, but shyness, especially on Elizabeth's part, had thus far precluded much conversation.
Now, standing at the edge of the brightly lit ballroom of Almack's, Brie mentally compared her own gown to Lady Elizabeth's. Both were of a modest cut, suitable to their unmarried status, and boasted exquisite and expensive tailoring. While Brie's gown was of turquoise, midway between pale and vivid, Elizabeth's gown was pristine white, which suited her dark colouring admirably. Looking around the room, Brie noticed that white was by far the most popular colour for girls their age and could not regret that her gown stood a bit apart, while still being well within tasteful limits.
Before she could finish her detailed survey of the room and its inhabitants, a waltz was struck up and the Duke of Ravenham bowed over her hand.
"May I have the honour, Miss Gordon?"
"Is... is it all right?" Brie asked uncertainly. "My sister said..."
"I have obtained permission for you to waltz, if that is what you mean." He was regarding her with cool amusement, but she refused to let him anger her.
"In that case, your grace, I would be happy to dance with you." She was eager to join the couples on the floor for, of all the dances she had been learning over the past two weeks, the waltz was her favourite. It seemed so graceful, so much like floating, and besides, the music was beautiful.
The Duke swung her onto the floor and appeared both surprised and delighted to discover that she waltzed so well. Perhaps he had not believed she could have attained any degree of proficiency in the brief time she had been in London?
But dancing had, in fact, come quite easily to Brie, who had always led an active life. Her time spent helping with her father's practice had given her a gentle touch and a sense of timing often vital in judging one's reactions around unpredictable animals, both of which were of assistance on a dance floor, odd as it seemed. She was therefore not particularly afraid of embarrassing herself by a misstep.
She was discovering, however, that being held and twirled in the Duke's arms was vastly different from dancing with the elderly and somewhat effeminate dancing master her sister had employed. She had never really noticed before the degree of physical closeness this dance demanded —a closeness which caused her heart to beat in a way not entirely accounted for by the exertions of the waltz. To divert her thoughts, she took refuge in conversation.
"I was pleased to make the acquaintance of the Lady Elizabeth, your grace," she began. Her voice sounded somewhat breathless, even to herself, but she thought she could reasonably hope he might think her winded by the dance. "She seems a charming girl."
"Yes, Elizabeth is the best of sisters. It would please me if you two were to become friends," he replied, which desire Brie could not help but find gratifying. He must not hold a grudge against her for the incident at the Ruby Crown —or the one in the Park —if he wanted her to associate with his sister, she thought, though she refused to analyse why his opinion of her should matter in the least.
"By the bye, that is what we are telling people, if they are curious about your arrival with us. That you are a friend of Elizabeth's," he explained to her questioning look. "After all, it would hardly do for it to be generally known that I am escorting you to pay off a wager." His tone was light, but Brie was stung by his words, nonetheless. She had almost managed to forget the reason for her presence here tonight, and that sudden reminder caused her to stiffen slightly in his arms.
"Indeed, your grace can consider it paid after tonight." Her voice was stiff, as well.
"No, no," he returned, his tone still cheerful. "I agreed to see the job through, and I'm a man of my word."
They danced on in silence, Brie fighting an irrational disappointment at his words. Surely she had not expected him to enjoy his obligation? Still, he might have said something of the sort out of common politeness, she thought, forgetting for the moment that she hated that sort of hypocrisy. Averting her face from the Duke lest he somehow divine her thoughts, she looked across the room to see Sir Frederick More watching her from near the door.
She was conscious of a mixture of alarm and triumph at the sight of him. Alarm, because this was the first she had seen of him since that awkward moment in the Park, though she knew he had called on her sister at least once. Triumph, because his presence here must surely prove that his reputation could not be as bad as the Duke had painted it.
As the dance ended, she saw that Sir Frederick, attired in sober black, was cautiously making his way towards her, and glanced quickly at the Duke to see if he had noticed. His frown indicated that he had, though he said nothing.
Ravenham was as surprised as Brie had been to see Sir Frederick at Almack's, but not for the same reasons. He knew, as she did not, that the standards of conduct for gentlemen were much more lenient than those for ladies and that while the patronesses might deny a lady the entree here on the basis of a mere hint of indiscretion, a gentleman had to be all but convicted of a crime to be cut in the same way. No, he was merely surprised that the notorious Sir Frederick would choose to spend an evening enjoying the tame pursuits offered at Almack's rather than at one of the more exotic establishments he generally haunted. What was the man playing at?
His thoughts were diverted by the press of people, mostly male, that met them as they left the dance floor, desirous of an introduction to the new Beauty. Looking at Miss Gordon thoughtfully, he had to admit with some surprise that she was beaut
iful. The turquoise gown matched her eyes precisely, emphasising their loveliness. And how could he ever have thought the rest of her face plain? It showed intelligence and animation, traits sadly lacking in most of the young ladies one met in London— and particularly at Almack's.
Brie found herself rather confused by the sudden attention, but the Duke handled everything smoothly, introducing her to what seemed like several dozen people in the space of a few minutes. She was sure it would take her weeks to sort out the names, not to mention the titles. Was that Sir Clarence, over there, or Lord Clarence? And the one who had said his name was Gardiner— was that Mr. or Lord Gardiner, or could that be the man's Christian name?
Angela had been right, she realised. Simply to be seen with the Duke of Ravenham was enough to bring her into fashion. Graciously promising dances to one young (or not so young) gentleman after another, she felt a touch on her arm and looked round.
"Save me one more, if it's not too late already," said the Duke, his expression bland. "Preferably a waltz." She nodded and he walked away with a cool smile, leaving her to deal with her new admirers.
Dancing set after set, Brie was pleased to see that Lady Elizabeth appeared to be as popular as herself, never sitting down. They exchanged smiles once or twice as they passed each other on the floor, and their budding friendship was silently strengthened. Watching the other girl, Brie tried idly to determine whether she seemed to be favouring one gentleman over the others, but could detect no sign of partiality in Elizabeth's manner.
Returning breathless from a country dance, Brie found herself next to an equally breathless Lady Elizabeth and suggested that they sit one out together, which proposal Elizabeth accepted with alacrity. Moving off to one side in search of a glass of the rather warm lemonade which was offered, they were halted by the Duke of Ravenham and another gentleman of about the same age.
"Miss Gordon, I'd like to present you to Lord Garvey, one of my closest friends. Barry, you already know my sister, Elizabeth."
Brie regarded the young man speculatively, realising that this must be the same Lord Garvey that the Duke had lost the wager to, resulting in this opportunity for herself. Lord Garvey glanced keenly at her, but then turned to regard Lady Elizabeth with more than passing interest.