When Rachel wished to pry, her idea of subtlety was to end declaratory statements on an interrogatory note.
“A libertine is by definition disagreeable to me,” Lilith answered. “All the same, there is nothing to pardon in you. I am not a green girl, and I imagine one brief unchaperoned ride will not sink me beneath reproach.”
“Of course, my dear. Naturally, he saw you home speedily, as he ought, and it was foolish of me to be concerned for your safety. Even Brandon must know better than to behave improperly with an affianced lady?”
“Yes, I am sure he must.”
“I do hope you had not to wait up for Cecily. I recollect you were feeling poorly, and I worried you would not have sufficient rest. But I daresay she was home before you were?”
“She returned quite early, according to Mrs. Wellwicke.”
Lady Enders scrutinised her face. “I fear, all the same, you did not sleep sufficiently. You seem pale, Lilith. Doubtless it is the comeout ball on your mind? Arranging a young lady’s debut can be so stressful, perhaps even more so for her family than for herself?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, at least you will be spared one distressing guest. You did say Brandon was not invited. I remember distinctly, because I thought at the time it reflected so much to your credit. Many hostesses will invite some of the most unsavoury characters, merely because they are attractive and amusing— as though these men were no more than decorations.”
“It appears we shall have such decoration,” Lilith said, folding her hands very calmly before her. “There has been a misunderstanding, and both Lord Brandon and his cousin, Lord Robert Downs, plan to attend, I am informed.”
Several stiff green ribbons jerked to attention. “A misunderstanding? You do not mean to say he had the effrontery to invite himself?”
Lilith briefly explained the situation, accompanied by her guest’s expressions of disbelief and dismay.
“Indeed. Well, I am very sorry,” Lady Enders said, shaking her head. “Though I see it cannot be mended now. One can only hope he will not again subject you to the sort of attentions which gave rise to so much distressing talk scarcely a week ago. One is, unfortunately, judged by the company one keeps.”
“I trust you do not mean to imply I am keeping company with such a person,” came the chilling reply.
Lady Enders spluttered and fussed and declared this was not what she meant at all. The trouble was, Lord Brandon had singled Lilith out at the Lievens’ ball, had danced once with her, and left almost immediately thereafter—
“Perhaps,” Lilith interrupted, “because I bored him to distraction.”
“My dear, it is not I who say this, but others. You know how it is. No one has ever been able to breathe scandal about you, and lesser persons are always too eager to bring others down to their level. There are some who say he pursues you for precisely that reason—because you are so far above his touch.”
“Then I must congratulate their acuteness of vision. It is far superior to my own, for I perceive no signs of being pursued and therefore need contrive no fanciful reasons. In any case, I feel we have this day expended far more breath upon the topic than it merits.”
***
The afternoon had advanced considerably when Lord Robert’s conscience finally awoke and agitatedly reminded him of his mistress. Filled with self-reproach, he sped to Henrietta Street, and within a quarter hour had thrown this same conscience into twelve fits by telling a series of bouncers.
“Drunk?” Elise repeated. She sat at her dressing table, stating at his reflection in the glass. “I cannot comprehend. You are always so moderate—in that, at least,” she added with a naughty smile.
He did not observe the smile, being preoccupied with sniffing in a baffled way at the air.
“Robin?”
“What? Oh, sorry. Did that clumsy maid spill your perfume again? The room fairly reek—that is to say,” he hastily corrected, “everything smells odd today, don’t you know. I expect it’s the after effects. Really, you should be thankful I kept away. I wasn’t a pretty sight, according to Julian—and this morning I was cross as a bear.”
“Poor boy,” she said, turning slightly. She reached up to tousle his fair hair affectionately. “You had not your little Elise by to nurse you.”
“Well, I didn’t want to subject you. That’s hardly fair, when it was my own dratted fault. But really,” he went on hurriedly, “it was one of those curst dull parties, and there was no other way to amuse myself, so I made free with the wine. I should have thought, I’m so sorry I worried you. You look as though you haven’t slept a wink. What a selfish beast I am!”
“But, mon cher...” She paused. Her looking glass reflected a beautiful young woman, well-rested, her skin smoothed with exotic emollients, the paint subtle, virtually invisible. She was five and twenty, yet might easily have passed this day for five years younger.
“Ah, I slept,” she said after a moment. “But my dreams were bad.”
In touching proof of his remorse, Lord Robert promised not to stir from his mistress’s side until late the following day. He didn’t want to leave her even then, he assured her, but if he appeared occasionally in Society, his relatives’ ruffled feathers might be smoothed a bit. It would be pleasant, wouldn’t it, to spend the next few months free of harassing visits and letters? After that, of course, the family must stop pestering him, mustn’t they? Because then he and his darling Elise would truly commence their life together.
The noble self-sacrifice he proposed, along with his expressions of affection and loyalty, ought to have touched his future bride’s heart. Regrettably, that was about the only way she was touched. Today there were no passionate embraces, and the few caresses he bestowed were perfunctory. Mainly Elise was showered with words—from a young man whose verbal gifts were not of the highest order.
Furthermore, Lord Robert seemed to be in the throes of very long-enduring drink aftereffects, for Elise caught him more than once sniffing the air in the same vaguely disturbed way. That night, he fell asleep as soon as he climbed into bed.
Lying beside him, the wise Elise found in these and other small matters much to reflect upon. Being wise, she put them together logically enough, and was troubled all the more.
Chapter Seven
They were small white orchids, tinged with the exact shade of pale mauve as her gown.
With Sir Thomas’s spray of white rosebuds and baby’s breath had come a note, properly worded and lightly touched—but only lightly—with sentiment, as became a man of maturity and sense.
The orchids bore no card, no note, yet Lilith knew who had sent them. Perhaps the marquess thought it high irony to send such exotic flowers to a dowd. The sprays lay before her on the dressing table, where her maid had placed them a few minutes before.
Lilith now looked enquiringly up at Mary.
“I thought perhaps you’d wish to wear the orchids in your hair,” the abigail said. She had served her mistress nearly fifteen years, and was therefore less easily intimidated than the rest of the staff. “I wouldn’t have suggested it, but they might have been dyed to match your gown, and it seemed a shame—”
“I cannot wear these,” her mistress cut in. “Furthermore, I am not a young girl, to wear flowers in my hair.”
“Well, I don’t know many young girls who could wear orchids, for that matter. It would take a precious sophisticated one, I’m sure.”
Mary took up one mauve-tinged blossom and set it against her mistress’s ear. “I’d like to know who picked it out,” she said. “Creamy white, as though it had been made from your skin. There’s not another lady has your complexion, madam—as smooth and white as a flower petal. As to young girls—why, what are little rosebuds for, then?”
“Mary, Sir Thomas sent me the rosebuds. That is what I shall wear. Or, if you object to them as too young for me, I shall do very well without any flowers at all.”
“He won’t notice,” Mary muttered. “He ne
ver notices anything. But the other gentleman must. That I’d swear to.”
“You are very talkative this evening.”
“I do beg your pardon, madam.” The abigail promptly set down the orchids, took up the comb, and proceeded to plait her mistress’s hair. She pulled the strands so firmly that Lilith thought her eyes would pop out of her head.
“Not quite so tight, if you please,” she said, wincing. “My hair feels as though it is coming out by... the roots…” She trailed off, gazing into the mirror. After a slight pause, she added, “I feel a headache coming on, at any rate. Perhaps not... not so tight a coil. Perhaps—”
“You’re quite right, madam. I’ll pull it up behind instead, with a knot, and leave it softer at the top, shall I?”
Her employer nodded.
“Now you’ve mentioned it,” Mary went on, though Lilith had not opened her mouth, “She might do both. One or two small orchids and two rosebuds, twined in the knot, so. Practically hidden, your hair is so thick and full. Just peeping out a bit. This way, neither gentleman can complain—or think too much of himself, either,” she added with a small, self-satisfied smile.
More than a dozen bouquets had been placed upon Miss Cecily Glenwood’s altar by her admirers. Nonetheless, she had no difficulty in declining all these lesser sacrifices in favour of the greater one: a spray of pink roses delivered personally by her brother Rodger.
Overcome by some fit of fraternal obligation, he had for the night abandoned his horses and horsy friends to support poor Cecily in her hour of trial. This he did, when the ball commenced, by being rather a trial himself. He announced loudly and repeatedly that he didn’t know her without the odour of the stables about her. Then he proceeded to disconcert her eager beaux with malevolent stares when they dared venture near his little sister.
Luckily, Lord Robert soon took the younger man in hand, introduced him to several sporting acquaintances, and left the rustic fellow contentedly debating the merits of Tattersall’s versus Aldridge’s in the art of equine auctioneering.
“You are exceedingly considerate,” Cecily told Lord Robert when he returned to claim his dance. “I know Rodger only means to be protective, but he does choose awkward moments, doesn’t he? The way he glared when Lord Maddock asked me to dance—I’m sure his lordship was convinced he’d be murdered. But you weren’t a bit afraid of Rodger, were you? Not that I can wonder at that,” she said with an admiring look at his broad shoulders. “I imagine you could knock him down with one blow, if you had even half a mind to. Naturally, you must be confident when you’re so fit.”
“A great many of us appear fit—thanks to our tailors,” her partner answered modestly, though his chest expanded and his shoulders grew even broader and straighter. “We London fellows are an idle lot, I’m afraid.”
“All the same, your shoulders are not padded, nor your—” She quickly withdrew her glance from his muscular calves and went on smoothly, “At any rate, you sit your horse exceedingly well. One would think you’d been born in the saddle.”
That compliment I must return, Miss Glenwood. Though I must say—” It was his turn to change direction abruptly. “I should very much like to ride with you one day. Not at dawn,” he added hastily, “but in the morning.”
“I should like that, my lord.”
“Then I shall persuade your aunt to accompany us. Otherwise, I’m afraid, it wouldn’t be the thing, you know.”
Persuasion of the aunt, Lord Robert soon decided, could wait until the morrow. At the moment, Mrs. Davenant’s demeanour had all the welcoming attributes of an iceberg.
The widow was dancing with her fiancé, who gave the lie to Mary’s earlier mutterings by taking note of the flowers. He told Lilith they suited her new coiffure, the effect was altogether elegant, and she was undoubtedly the handsomest woman in the room, the guest of honour notwithstanding.
“I’m not a foreign power,” she answered. “There is no need to turn me up sweet, Thomas.”
“I never flatter you, my dear, because I know you don’t like it. But to say you are handsome is a simple statement of fact,” he said judiciously. “Nor can you convince me any other lady in this room can match your elegance of manner. I know I’m a lucky man. I never wanted Alvanley’s pointing it out, I promise you.”
She stiffened. “What had Alvanley to say to you? I am sure he scarcely speaks two words to me.”
“He is a lazy, ramshackle fellow. But he tells me to keep a sharp eye, for there are some gentlemen excessively envious of my good fortune. ‘While you are courting the goodwill of the Grand Duchess,’ he warned me, ‘others may be wooing your bride-to-be.’”
“What nonsense.”
“Not at all. I have seen Brandon cast more than one glance in your direction this evening, and now I dare not leave your side. They say he has a devilish way with the ladies, not to mention most of us would give a right arm to have one half his good looks.”
“Minus an arm, you should not have all your own, Thomas.”
He smiled. “Well, he might keep his handsome face, I suppose—so long as I keep my handsome lady.”
Lilith did not cast any glances of her own at the marquess. Numerous other ladies had undertaken that duty for her. Besides, she had no need to study him. She had seen enough when she’d greeted him earlier, in the reception line.
His midnight-blue coat and dove-grey inexpressibles, impeccably cut, seemed knit to his powerful, lean frame. Tonight, one diamond winked in his cravat and another on his right hand. As he’d bent over her hand, she’d breathed the scent of sandalwood, and could almost feel how crisp were the black curls that glistened in the candlelight. The serpentine green eyes he’d raised briefly to hers gleamed with humour. His low voice caressed her ears, and though he uttered the merest civilities, her heart had beat a devil’s tattoo in answer.
Contemptuous of superstition and magic, Lilith Davenant had never believed such a thing as fatal charm existed. Nevertheless, she could not deny the pull the marquess exerted upon her, which seemed to grow stronger each time she saw him.
With him, she was so tense she could scarcely think. Away from him, her mind churned with recollections of every word, every gesture, every expression and nuance of his too-handsome countenance. This was how thoroughly he had insinuated himself into her thoughts, after a mere handful of interactions in the three weeks since she’d found him half dead by the roadside.
Though Thomas made a creditable effort to keep by his lady, another siren call beckoned more irresistibly. In less than an hour, he was planted in a corner arguing with his Parliamentary colleagues.
Past experience told Lilith he would not be uprooted until supper, if then. Had one lady joined the group, she might have found an excuse to join as well, but few ladies would endure the somber debate above half a minute.
Cecily did not require her, being occupied with one partner after another. In the intervals between sets, the girl was speedily surrounded by young people—of both genders, Lilith was pleased to note. Her niece was lovely enough to inspire the most malicious sort of envy, yet her open, warm, unspoiled manner won feminine hearts instead of alienating them. There was no question of Cecily’s success—on every count.
Since she had no need to hover by her niece, Lilith walked with apparent ease among her many guests, chatting briefly before moving on. She found she needed to move on frequently. She would no sooner begin to relax with one cluster of guests than she would hear a familiar low-pitched voice somewhere in the vicinity. Lazy, insinuating, it would rise and fall amid the buzz and laughter of other voices. Though she moved from one group to the next, his voice seemed always nearby, until she began to feel—it was absurd, she knew—like a hunted creature, never allowed to rest.
She was trying to find a partner for Lady Shumway’s unfortunate granddaughter when Lilith saw Rachel try to draw Sir Thomas away from his discussion. Thomas only smiled absently and waved her away.
Lady Shumway’s charge was safely deposit
ed with a freckle-faced baronet in the nick of time, for in the next minute Rachel, all angry ruffles and ribbons, was charging at Lilith.
“It is no good telling Thomas,” Lady Enders said, vexed and red-faced. “Half the company speaks of nothing else, and no wonder. I have never seen anything so brazen as the way that wicked man looks at you. When Sally Jersey finally asked what made him stare so, he only laughed—I heard him myself—and claimed he was trying to devise a name for your new coiffure.”
It was only years of rigid discipline prevented Lilith from reaching up and ripping the orchids from her hair. Her grandmother’s lectures rang in her ears: “A lady never indulges in displays of emotion, regardless how great the provocation.”
She did not wring her hands, as Rachel was doing, or flush with embarrassment. “There are some persons,” Lilith answered coldly, “whose every word and action attracts notice. Lord Brandon is Society’s latest circus animal. When the novelty of his return wears off, everyone will leave off watching and commenting.”
This was uttered with such regal disdain that Rachel very nearly dropped a curtsy. “All the same, he ought have more consideration,” she said, hastily recovering. “He knows he’s the centre of attention, and therefore draws attention to you.”
“I have never heard it remarked Lord Brandon was a considerate man. Will you excuse me, please? I believe Cawble is having trouble with one of the footmen.”
Mrs. Davenanf s servants were far too greatly awed by their mistress to dare experience difficulties of any sort. She had simply told a falsehood in order to escape the company. She did not hurry from the ballroom, or along the hallway, yet she was short of breath when she reached the safety of the supper room.
Everything, of course, was as it should be. Cawble had made the punch himself from his own carefully guarded receipt, a copy of which any hostess in the ton would have given a vital organ to possess. There was an excellent nonalcoholic version and a sublime spirit-laden one. The cold dishes were artistically laid out. The warm ones would be served at the last possible moment. The china and plate, the table linens, the decorations—all was in perfect order, as Lilith ought to know, having reviewed the situation some fifty times already.
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