The Devil You Know

by Sophia Holloway

  ‘It is a bee sting, ma’am, for I can see the sting still in the palm.’ Before there could be any response he scraped it out with his own well-pared fingernail, even as Miss Sudbury exclaimed. ‘There, no more venom can enter the wound. I am sorry if that hurt, Miss Sudbury, but it was needful. Now, what we need is ice. I assume there was some for the cooling of the wine?’ He looked to the under-butler, who had been in charge of the servants.

  ‘I believe there should be a sufficiency remaining, my lord,’ he answered.

  ‘Then don’t dither, man. I want enough ice to fill a pad made from this.’ Lord Inglesham withdrew a clean linen handkerchief from within his coat. ‘And leave enough room so that the corners may be secured about the hand.’

  His lordship did not watch to see if these instructions were obeyed, but turned his gaze back to Miss Sudbury, who was focusing upon him and trying to withhold the tears that were welling up. She found his look, like his handhold, sustaining, and remained reasonably composed.

  Miss Erith, in contrast, began to sob, and dab at her eyes.

  Lord Ledbury regarded Miss Erith with patent revulsion.

  ‘Good God, what possible reason can you have for tears? Miss Sudbury has not been mauled by a tiger, merely suffered a bee sting.’

  ‘There was a dairy maid on our estate died of a bee sting,’ offered Lord Erith, in a doom-laden tone, and earned a scowl which had made better men quail, as the handkerchief, bulging with ice, was returned to his lordship.

  ‘Such tragedies are exceedingly rare, ma’am.’ Lord Inglesham sought to reassure the afflicted lady, as he bound the handkerchief about her hand. He had been forced to rip the handkerchief to knot about wrist and round the base of three fingers.

  Miss Sudbury, who was biting her lip, nodded, and managed a whispered, ‘Indeed so, my lord. But it stings so.’

  He looked up as he completed his handiwork.

  ‘The ice will help, both to numb the palm and prevent swelling. I shall not want the handkerchief back, by the by.’

  ‘A… a casualty of the war against stings?’ she ventured, and he smiled at her.

  ‘Most certainly, Miss Sudbury.’

  Neither, thankfully, was aware of the curling lip of Lord Ledbury. Whilst giving Miss Sudbury credit for not succumbing to the near hysteria of Miss Erith, he considered her a dull dab of a creature, and it would take an awful lot to alter his view. Her mild jest struck him as ponderous. His wife, however, did see, and flinched as Lady Rowington whispered to her.

  ‘Ought we to abandon the rest of the picnic? Lord Ledbury seems in ill humour and Lucy…’

  ‘If Lucy can be distracted a little from her pain, I would say we might continue. Lord Ledbury’s ill humour is a thing unto itself, and I would ignore it.’

  ‘Do you?’ Charlotte Rowington’s interest was genuine, but Kitty blushed.

  ‘As much as possible.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘You are the mother of a son, Charlotte. Do not tell me you have not learned to ignore his making a fuss for attention’s sake.’

  Lady Rowington, with the sudden image of the earl as a toddler in a bad mood, choked, and had to claim it was a crumb of pastry. Whilst Lady Erith proffered her a glass of lemonade, Kitty threw her lord a repressive glance which did not bode well for any exchange once they were alone. Lord Inglesham appeared to share the view that Miss Sudbury needed distraction. He enquired as to whether she felt recovered enough to walk among the spring flowers, unfurling pristine petals with maidenly coyness. Miss Sudbury thought that she might.

  ‘Then perhaps Lord Erith might lead you in a gentle perambulation.’ Henry Inglesham felt that to monopolise the young lady when there were suitable young gentlemen present would be unfair. Miss Sudbury’s look of disappointment was swiftly suppressed, but Lord Erith could not conceal his disinclination.

  ‘Would be honoured, of course, Miss Sudbury, but… know nothing about flowers… always go by colour, “yellow ones”, “red ones”, except for roses. I can recognise those, obviously. Wild flowers are not my thing.’

  ‘I can supply that part, my lord. Botany is one of my particular interests.’

  ‘It is?’ He tried to sound pleased, but his expression betrayed him.

  ‘If you would but lend me your arm and escort, it would suffice.’ Miss Sudbury had no great desire to walk with the gentleman, but both realised that backing down would be impolite. Lord Erith rose, dusted crumbs from his breeches, and would have assisted Miss Sudbury to rise had not Lord Inglesham been before him. Miss Sudbury’s colour rose, but then she was getting up after sitting still for some time.

  Lord Ledbury viewed the montage presented with disfavour. Miss Sudbury and his friend might be blinkered, but he saw well enough the signs of nascent mutual attraction. He was genuinely very attached to Henry Inglesham, and wished him every happiness, but had no desire to listen to lovelorn paeans upon the chit, let alone lose his most frequent companion to the paying of court to her. Kitty was both embarrassed by her husband’s behaviour, and a little hurt. She had begun to think he was not as uncharitable, or as selfish, as he claimed to be, but he had ceased to make any effort to disguise the fact that he would rather be anywhere but Richmond Park.

  Lord Inglesham, whose gentlemanly instincts were rather better, did not let his eyes follow Miss Sudbury and her reluctant escort, followed by a footman, but applied himself to entertaining the Erith ladies. This pleased both them and his hostess, but Miss Sudbury, casting a fleeting glance over her shoulder, felt that her hand throbbed more insistently. Cuthbert also looked unhappy. He had been abandoned by his friend and perforce had to attempt small talk with two ladies very much more at ease, one of whom possessed a husband who cast him into a quake.

  ‘I have an aunt,’ he declared as an opening gambit of conversation.

  ‘An aunt or an ant?’ quizzed Lord Ledbury, without enthusiasm.

  ‘An aunt, my lord.’ Cuthbert repeated, taken aback.

  ‘Do you seek commiseration for possessing this aunt, or is she so singular a lady as to be a topic on her own?’

  Cuthbert’s Adam’s apple moved up and down rapidly. Kitty took pity upon the young man, and smiled at him.

  ‘Do tell us, without of course naming her, if she is one of those eccentric aunts it is always delightful to hear about but not have in the family.’

  He gave her a look of deep gratitude.

  ‘Definitely one of those, ma’am. Technically, she is my great-aunt.’

  ‘Ah, a great-aunt. They are always more interesting. You should have said as much.’ Lord Ledbury was playing with Cuthbert as a cat might with a mouse. Kitty ignored his interruption,

  ‘They add the eccentricity of age, but one tends to feel guilty at laughing at them because of their venerable years, yes?’

  ‘True, ma’am, but since she resides in Somerset, she will not hear any laughing.’ Cuthbert threw out his rather concave chest as Lady Rowington looked suitably charmed by his wit.

  ‘An unamusing shire, Somerset?’ Lord Ledbury could not resist. ‘You are probably right. I went to Bath once, and it was full of invalids and old tabbies who played whist. If the rest of the county is like that…’

  Cuthbert panicked and gabbled, a little incoherently. Kitty pursed her lips.

  ‘Pay no attention, sir, my lord’s humour is… idiosyncratic.’

  It was left to Lord Inglesham to restore calm, which he did with understated ease. Kitty gave her husband a glare which as good as said, ‘There, that is how things ought to be done.’ He shrugged.

  When Lord Erith and Miss Sudbury returned, the gentleman looked sulky and the young lady miserable. In truth her hand was throbbing only slightly, but she had the beginnings of a sick headache, and simply wished to be home. She responded to Lord Inglesham’s sympathetic enquiry almost tersely, and sent her sister a look of entreaty.

  ‘You know, I think we ought to be setting off back to Town, delightful as the park has been. Poor Lucy looks as if she should be laid upon her bed.
My love, shall we cry off from tonight?’

  Miss Sudbury gave a wan smile but shook her head and claimed a rest would revive her sufficiently. She knew how much store her sister set upon their appearance at Almack’s. It was agreed that she should sit in the carriage with Lady Rowington, where she might sit quietly without feeling the need to make conversation. Kitty Ledbury volunteered to sit in the second carriage, largely so that she would not feel she ought to be apologising to her friend for her spouse’s behaviour. As he handed her up into the carriage he murmured something to her and received a frosty look.

  It was a slightly subdued party that a little later trotted over Fulham Bridge. Lady Erith had decided the best way to cover any awkwardness was to leave no time to dwell upon things, and therefore talked throughout the entire journey, about people Kitty did not know and places she had not visited. Her flow was inexhaustible, and Kitty’s head began to ache. It was a great relief, despite the increased volume of noise, when the carriage turned onto Oxford Street, and she could anticipate peace in but a few minutes.

  Lords Ledbury and Inglesham had not felt the need for much conversation. Henry Inglesham had rarely felt so little disposed towards his friend. The earl had muttered, in an aggrieved tone, that his wife was out of humour with him, and for no reason. That he did not see the reason struck Inglesham as the nub of the matter. He was very attached to George Ledbury, and forgave him much of his attitude to the world at large, but today the man had stopped making any effort whatsoever. How one who had gone to great lengths to save him, quite literally, could be so selfish and casual, made no sense to the uncomplicated Lord Inglesham.

  An altercation between two carriers caused the traffic to slow to a halt. Lady Erith was still, remarkably, in full flow.

  ‘And if my cousin Compton ever fully recovers, Lady Ledbury, you may call me the Empress of China, or should that be Japan?’

  A gentleman walking by stopped abruptly, occasioning a complaint from an individual bearing a tray of pies, who nearly cannoned into him. Whilst placating this noisy vendor, the gentleman still contrived a covert look at the occupants of the carriage, and his expression was thoughtful.

  *

  In Manchester Square, Kitty parted from Lady Erith with relief, and her friend with effusive thanks. The atmosphere of the outing had become subdued, and she knew this had far more to do with Lord Ledbury than the offending bee. Kitty could not stand in the street and openly apologise, but determined to write Lady Rowington a note of some length. She therefore wished Lucy a swift recovery and trod up the steps to the door, already being held open for her. Lord Ledbury, having dismounted and thanked his hostess, awaited only a man to take his horse round to the mews, and would follow her. She did not relish what might be said in private.

  Kitty drew off her gloves with a sigh, as she stepped into the hallway.

  ‘Would a cup of tea be in order, my lady?’ suggested Syde, with fatherly concern. ‘Gallivantings can be most wearying, and travelling in an open vehicle means dust in the throat.’

  ‘Oh, yes please, Syde. To my bedchamber, if you would, and a can of hot water also. You are right about the dust.’

  ‘Immediately, my lady.’ The butler turned as his employer crossed the threshold. ‘Good afternoon, my lord. I hope you have had a…’

  ‘Not especially, Syde. And delay the hot water a few minutes, I wish to speak with her ladyship.’

  ‘Of course, my lord.’

  The earl’s tone was not threatening, merely conversational, but Kitty was not deceived. She half-turned as he advanced and took her elbow, and guided her upstairs, where he steered her towards the rear of the house and a small saloon that was infrequently used. He said nothing until he had closed the door behind them.

  ‘So, madam, you take it upon yourself to criticise my behaviour.’ There was a snap to his words.

  ‘Someone ought to have done so many years since.’ Kitty looked him straight in the eye. If he expected her to waver, then he would have to think again. He did look taken aback, and she continued, not giving him the opportunity to interrupt. ‘You may think a reputation for a dry wit and sharp tongue are to be applauded, but they are to be condemned when used against those incapable of defending themselves. That poor greenhorn was not up to your weight, and the Erith girl is a vapid… doll.’

  ‘Well, since our opinions of them do not seem very different I cannot see why you should cut up at me.’ He sounded a little defensive, and sulky.

  ‘Because you are meant to be above cheap victories. It was cruel.’

  ‘Neither will be cast down by it.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Why did you do it? No, I know why. You were bored. Well, ennui is not an excuse for bad behaviour.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me as if you were my governess.’

  ‘Then stop acting like a spoilt child.’

  He took the single step between them and grabbed her by the shoulders, his lips close to her ear.

  ‘A child? One word, and I would show you the man, and it would be no act. I want you, you know that.’

  She could feel his breathing, the tremor of desire in it, and as much as it kindled a flame within her, it repulsed her.

  ‘You want a woman. I don’t want to be “a woman” to feed the need of your body. I want to be the “only woman”, the only one you will not discard like a worn neckcloth. I want the impossible.’

  She pulled back from him, her voice wavering on a half sob, wrenched from his grasp and flung open the door of the chamber, pulling it shut behind her and leaning back with her weight against it to give her support for a moment. Any vestige of control left her, and she fled, weeping, to her room.

  He stood, staring at the door as if he could see through it, heard the sobbing breaths, and his hands clenched until the nails dug into his palms, but his brows were drawn not in a scowl of anger but a frown of thought. ‘Only one’, those were her words. He had never felt there was only ‘one woman’; even when at the height of his affairs his desire had been focused, but never had he felt it all consuming. He had chased with the passion of the hunter, but it was for the thrill of the chase not the woman herself, and soon enough his conquests bored him. ‘Only one’ was a concept he had never in his life considered, and yet, looking at the panelled door behind which was his wife, he considered it now. He placed one palm upon the door panel, softly, and whispered, ‘Not impossible, my Kitty.’ He heard her swift footsteps as she ran away, but remained very still in the room for some time.

  Kitty went swiftly up to her chamber, sat upon the bed, and closed her eyes. She was such a fool. In her anger she had ruined everything. He was not a man to submit to demands and she had made her position all too plain. He would either cease his seduction forthwith, or redouble his efforts in an attempt to have her so in thrall that she would accept whatever crumbs of affection he might show, denying having ever sought exclusivity. She sighed.

  ‘Why should I love him?’ she asked herself out loud. ‘He does act like a spoilt child. His behaviour today was cruel, callous, just because he was bored. He thinks only of himself, cares not a fig for social convention, and puts me to the blush as a tease. And I would call myself a sensible woman. I should be in Bedlam.’

  14

  Kitty, having washed and taken tea, lay upon her bed for an hour. She had not thought that a picnic with her friend and a very small party would have been so exhausting, but she felt drained. It was not the ideal preamble to her first appearance at Almack’s as Lady Ledbury, and she had almost decided not to go, but then it would mean the possibility of an evening with an ill-humoured husband. He had said that he would squire her to Almack’s, but she had forgotten to mention it, and secretly hoped he would have prior commitments with his gentlemen friends. It was hardly de rigueur to be seen with one’s husband at a venue the married gentlemen would not choose to attend every week.

  Wootton had to press her mistress to get a decision upon which gown she would wear, and even went so far as to warn her t
hat if she was ‘going to wear that long face to go with it, everyone would think you was in expectation of going into blacks’.

  She came down to dinner in a three-quarter gown of green silk with a gold embroidered hem over a buttermilk satin underdress, and a necklace of graduated peridot cabochons. Lord Ledbury, who had come down a little earlier, turned from brooding contemplation of the fire in the hearth and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Very fine. Every inch the Countess of Ledbury. Where are you going tonight?’

  ‘To Almack’s, my lord, but please, do not alter your plans. It was remiss of me not to remind you.’

  ‘Or did you choose not to do so?’

  She coloured.

  ‘Acquit me of that, sir. It was simply an oversight. I do not intend to remain late, in any case. Rather I think it polite to put in an appearance as soon as possible after having been sent the vouchers.’

  ‘And, unlike me, you are polite.’

  She winced.

  ‘That was not my inference and you know it.’

  ‘Do I, Kitty?’

  She did not answer him, and Syde entered at that moment to announce dinner.

  This could not be said to be an enjoyable meal, although no fault could be found with the food. Kitty saw the reticence before the servants as a heavy, sulking silence, and she felt herself to be under intense scrutiny as if his looks probed her head and heart. What conversation there was had a distant formality and turned upon a date for their own evening party. This morning she might have spoken of it with animated enthusiasm, but tonight it felt a duty. As she rose at the end of the meal, he surprised her.

  ‘You know, I am but loosely engaged with Inglesham at the club. It is no trouble for us to drift by before the doors of Almack’s are closed to latecomers, and I can send a note round to him to be togged up suitably.’ It was said casually, but his eyes watched her closely, and saw, with annoyance, her flinch. ‘You dislike the idea, madam? Had you plans for dalliance?’