by Dorothy Mack
Angelica decided she was ready for a rest on the inviting red couch, and Lord Robert elected to remain with her.
“I’d do a lot of things for you, Giles, but walking my feet to the bone ain’t among ’em.”
The viscount bowed slightly to Angelica and followed the retreating trio.
Angelica had been glad of the chance to rest, but in spite of this, she would have pursued her objective of further observation of the engaged pair had not Lady Barbara’s dismissal been so evident. She smiled inwardly, recalling Lydia’s refusal to be out-manoeuvred. She was learning to hold her own. It was to be devoutly hoped that Lady Barbara would offer no further provocation calculated to cause Lydia to expose her youth and inexperience.
Lord Robert proved an amusing companion, and they were conversing as easily as old friends when the other members of the party reappeared at the end of the long room. The two gentlemen appeared to be in conversation, and the ladies were strolling together.
“Lydia and Lady Barbara make a charming picture together,” Angelica said admiringly, “both such sparkling brunettes.” Indeed, the two girls, Lydia in her vibrant wine colour and the older girl in palest blue trimmed with black fur, were the objects of admiring glances from strolling art lovers.
“To complete the picture, you should be there in the centre as a lovely fair contrast.”
Angelica chuckled. “You are very kind, my lord, but my mirror tells me I am not at all out of the common style.”
“Then your mirror lies, Miss Wayne,” he answered seriously. “You are definitely not in the common style. It is true that you lack the vivacity which is so much a part of young Lydia’s charm, nor do you possess the classic perfection of Lady Barbara’s features, but there are many people who prefer your more serene loveliness.”
Angelica, who had had very little experience with young men since her unspectacular season four years before, was horrified to think she, who scorned such tactics, might be considered to be angling for compliments; yet she could not suspect Lord Robert of insincere flattery, so maintained an embarrassed silence. But her eyes, which had been lowered in her confusion, looked up in time to meet the rather narrowed glance of the viscount coming toward them.
Lord Robert noticed the direction of her glance and said thoughtfully, as if continuing his earlier remarks, “Since Alicia, Giles has never really looked at the blonde ones — always seems to favour brunettes. A pity.”
Angelica thought this remark rather enigmatic, but had no chance to pursue the topic as the others were nearly upon them.
If the viscount noticed her slightly heightened colour, he made no comment. The others were absorbed in arguing the merits of a painting. Angelica relaxed and rose from her seat. She was conscious of the viscount’s intent regard for another few seconds before he proposed that the party adjourn to Grillon’s for tea to aid in the recovery from their exertions.
It was an enjoyable interlude. Lydia and Lady Barbara maintained their truce, and conversation flowed easily. Lord Robert, with a mischievous wink at Angelica, devoted himself briefly to Lady Barbara, cleverly edging Sir Anthony aside. That gentleman’s manners were too good to exclude the other ladies in any case, but Angelica was faintly troubled by an intuitive guess that he was quite deeply smitten by Lady Barbara’s beauty. Certainly he was aware of the engagement between her and the viscount, but Lady Barbara treated her fiancé with a hint of carelessness, which must be considered an encouragement to other men to press their attentions on her. Angelica was aware that, among the leaders of the haut ton, flirtations were winked at and outright infidelities often condoned by the injured spouse as long as these were conducted discreetly. The only sin in some exalted circles was to create a scandal. Certainly it was known that some highborn women had foisted other men’s children onto their husbands, and many a wealthy gentleman flaunted his mistress in the teeth of society, keeping her in elegant style while the affaire lasted. Even high sticklers among society leaders accepted these men, though the high flyers under their protection were not recognized. Wives closed their eyes to such indiscretions and pretended ignorance of their husbands’ activities. Thus the facade of marriage was maintained. Country-bred Angelica had been shocked and revolted at such revelations during her first stay in London, and though no longer shocked was still repulsed by such behaviour. Admittedly, the prevailing custom among the nobility of arranged marriages contributed greatly to this state of affairs, but she considered that simply a greater reason not to marry where one did not love.
She could not believe Lady Barbara bore any tender feeling for Lord Desmond, though it was true she sought to recapture his attention if he spoke for more than a minute or two with his sister’s companion. On these occasions he received the same dazzling smile as Sir Anthony or Lord Robert, but the suspicion persisted that the motive underlying the smile was simply a strong desire to retain the attention of every personable male present. Angelica chided herself for pettiness and closely observed the beautiful brunette for any signs of partiality toward her fiancé. She could detect none.
Nor for that matter could she detect the slightest sign of impatience or jealousy in the viscount’s manner. Certainly his thoughtful gaze rested often on Lady Barbara’s face, but even more often, perhaps, on that of Sir Anthony, who made no attempt to conceal the fact that he was completely bowled out by her loveliness. The viscount, however, betrayed no hint of irritation. He responded politely to all his fiancée’s sallies, but initiated no conversation himself. Although aware that she herself was unacquainted with many gentlemen, Angelica felt sure she would be able to discern some shade of hurt in his manner if he loved his fiancée. There was none, but perhaps the man was a consummate actor. Evidently he was enjoying the afternoon, and it was not he but Lord Robert who looked at his watch finally and declared it was getting late. The party broke up on a pleasant note, and presently they returned to Grosvenor Square after setting down Lord Robert at his lodgings.
Angelica sat silent during the trip home, hearing almost nothing of Lydia’s prattle, her mind totally occupied with the problem of her employer’s relationship with the woman he was to make his wife next month. Whether or not he loved her, Angelica saw nothing but disappointment and disillusionment ahead from such a match. She recalled Lydia’s story about her brother’s having a mistress. Somehow, there was no comfort in the idea that the viscount was satisfied with this arrangement and expected nothing of personal happiness from his prospective marriage. From her two brief encounters with Lady Barbara, she could see no benefit to Jenny or Lydia from the marriage either.
All in all, she was feeling strangely depressed as they entered the big house. Lydia was already running up the stairs, and Angelica prepared to follow her when the viscount came up behind her and said in a low tone:
“Just a moment please, Miss Wayne. What was Robert saying to you just before we all came up to you in the room at Somerset House?”
Angelica, taken completely by surprise, looked up into the cold-featured face staring steadily down at her.
“Why we … we talked nothing but the merest commonplace to pass the time while waiting for your return.”
“I rather doubt the ‘merest commonplace’ could have caused you to colour up in such confusion. What was he saying to you?”
The man had the eyes of a hawk, Angelica thought distractedly, searching wildly for some noncommittal response. She did not find it, and as usual blurted out the truth: “Lord Robert had just paid me a compliment, my lord. I’m afraid I’m unused to such gallantry.” She achieved a deprecating laugh that changed to an indignant gasp as he answered curtly:
“I’m well aware of that.” He was frowning thoughtfully into space and failed to see her chagrin at his callousness.
She replied as evenly as the fury which was threatening to choke her would permit. “I have never had any pretensions to beauty, my lord, but I believe it has never been said that I am an antidote either. I’m not quite unacquainted with complim
ents.”
It was his turn to look surprised, and he apologized gruffly. “Good lord, I wasn’t implying any insult, you foolish girl. I merely meant that it is obvious you haven’t been schooled in the so-called art of elegant dalliance.” His unseeing gaze remained thoughtful. “I knew you were too young the moment you entered the library. You are no more up to snuff than Lydia.”
Angelica gasped. “Your lordship has apparently forgotten that I am six years older than Lydia and four years older than your fiancée.”
He laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound to the indignant girl. “In terms of experience you may be a few months older than Lydia, but you are years younger than Barbara.” He directed a challenging look at her mutinous face as if daring her to argue the point.
Angelica had to struggle with a deep sense of mortification before she could force any reply through stiff lips. ‘I assure you, my lord, you are under a misapprehension. I was not flirting with Lord Robert.”
“I know you weren’t,” he said, still frowning impatiently, “but I am not sure about Robert. He has no thought of marriage, you know. Your welfare is my responsibility while you are under my roof, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I thank you for your concern, my lord,” she snapped in a voice which scarcely conveyed gratification, “but I am well aware that a penniless governess is beyond the pale in the marriage stakes. I promise you I will not set my cap for poor Lord Robert.” The bitter words were no sooner uttered than regretted, and Angelica found herself trembling, waiting for certain retribution. It didn’t come.
The stern face of her employer underwent one of its periodic lightning swift changes. His eyes lit with amusement and he gave a bark of real laughter. “I accept your promise, of course, Miss Wayne, but then you are not penniless, are you? If my memory is correct you have an annuity, which makes you a woman of parts.”
For the first time since her childhood, Angelica experienced a strong urge to physical violence. Her fingers itched to slap the mocking face laughing down at her. The silence became tense with foreboding as the green eyes glared wrathfully up into the now almost gently smiling face above hers, and was suddenly broken by the sound of heavy footsteps as Chilham approached from the direction of the kitchens. As if released from a paralysis, Angelica spun on her heel and fled up the stairs as though pursued by all the demons in hell.
It took all her resolution to enable Angelica to face the viscount at dinner that night. She seriously considered pleading the headache and requesting a bowl of broth in her room, but fierce pride forbade her to play the coward. The passage of arms on the stairway had been her first real experience with the humiliation of being in a subservient position. Lydia treated her like a sister, Jenny adored her new teacher and until today the viscount had shown an impersonal courtesy, which, if not warming, was certainly acceptable. Until today her sense of personal worth had not been challenged, but now the illusion that she was a person in her own right was shattered by his attack on her in the hall.
Striding restlessly back and forth in the quiet sitting room to the furious pace of her resentment, she told herself fiercely that never would he have spoken so to a woman in his own circle. He looked on her as an inferior being to be kept in her place mentally, even if she must on occasion move physically in his sphere for his convenience. How dare he think she would stoop to flirting with his friends! He had all but accused her of setting her cap for Robert! Humiliation and fury prodded her on until she almost collapsed from fatigue.
It was not until later — when, drained of all emotion, she lay resting on her bed before dressing for dinner — that she allowed herself to see the event from the viscount’s point of view. She recalled that he had not actually accused her of flirting with Lord Robert; in fact, he had quickly agreed that she had done no such thing. He had said that he feared she would be hurt. The implication, of course, was that she was so naive she would mistake mere flirting for something more serious. She clenched her teeth at this thought, but in fairness to the viscount, his behaviour indicated the same kind of concern he would have felt if Lydia were in danger of making such a mistake. Not a flattering opinion, of course, but nothing to warrant the excess of indignation which had coursed through her in a flood tide. Puzzled at her own intemperate reaction — she who prided herself on having, in Miss Austen’s phrase, more sense than sensibility — she tried to find a reason for her behaviour. At bottom, she came to the unwelcome conclusion that she bitterly resented the implication that the viscount believed any attentions shown to her must necessarily be in the nature of harmless flirtations. Along with this bitter pill was the equally distasteful one that he believed her naive enough to leap immediately to the erroneous conclusion that such attentions were serious attempts to fix her interest.
So he had misjudged her, probably not maliciously. She had already suspected his opinion of women in general was not high. Why should she be so upset to find she was also in the category of women in general? Well, Angelica had never been given to self-delusion, and unpalatable as was the truth, she faced it squarely. It did matter to her what the viscount thought of her. Actually, since he was her employer, she should value his opinion of her, shouldn’t she? She was not prepared to delve any further before dinner, but at least this had decided her that she did not wish to appear in his eyes as one who would indulge in a fit of the sullens.
Thus decided, she took extra care over her toilette, again wearing the amber gown, but spending more time on her problem hair. Recalling that Annie sometimes braided the tresses and wound them around her head in a coronet, she patiently began to plait it, but was glad to accept Lydia’s help when that young lady came to discuss the afternoon’s outing. Lydia was delighted to try her skill and well pleased with her efforts. When Angelica confided that she was planning to cut a few inches in the hope that it would better stay pinned in her customary knot, Lydia protested vociferously.
“Absolutely not! You have the loveliest hair imaginable, so soft and of such a marvellous colour. It would be a crime to cut it. You are most welcome to borrow Marie whenever you need help. She can attend you before she comes to me. This new style is quite elegant, but for my ball you must have something really spectacular — piled up high with curls falling over one shoulder.”
“I don’t think curls are quite my style,” Angelica said laughingly, “but come now, or we shall be late for dinner.”
The two girls went cheerfully down to the saloon, with Lydia protesting gaily that for her ball she would decide what her friend should wear and how she should dress her hair. By the time they entered the saloon, she had reduced Angelica to a fit of giggles over a mental picture of herself wearing clouds of puce ruffles and hundreds of curls.
Lady Orbridge and the viscount looked up at the somewhat boisterous entrance of the two girls. Angelica had developed a deep admiration and respect for the old woman in the short time she had been under the viscount’s roof. Aunt Minerva bore the almost constant discomfort of her condition like a stoic and scorned to employ any of those stratagems used by other ladies who enjoyed ill health to make themselves the centre of their unfortunate households, controlling the activities of the various members like a puppeteer behind the scenes. She possessed a sparkling wit, a faintly acidulous tongue and very clear-seeing eyes.
Now those eyes were fixed on the two girls as they came toward her laughingly. “Well, you two are certainly in high gig tonight. What is the reason for such outrageous spirits before dinner?” The words were stern but the black eyes twinkled.
“Please, dear ma’am, forgive our sad want of conduct in entering the room like hoydens,” said Angelica, seating herself beside Lady Orbridge and smiling warmly upon her. “Your thoroughly outrageous niece has been threatening to have the dressing of me for her ball, and if she were to have her way, I would cut such a deplorable figure as would make you give me the cut direct.”
Lydia, still giggling, uttered, “Clouds of puce ruffles and her hair in hun
dreds of curls, like those ridiculous wigs you used to wear in your youth, Aunt Minerva.”
“Try for a little conduct, miss,” said her aunt sternly. “In my day, we knew how to create une grande toilette. None of these clinging muslins, which leave nothing to the imagination and have no style either. Why, I am told some of the hussies actually dampen their petticoats so their gowns appear pasted on. Sheer vulgarity!” she snorted.
Lydia, her spirits not the least subdued by this scolding, turned to her brother who had been silently observing the scene with a strange little smile on his lips, and demanded impishly, “Giles, don’t you agree Angelica must make a really spectacular appearance for my ball?”
The subject under discussion was attempting to frown down the irrepressible girl, but to no avail as Lydia continued to expand on her theme that the family honour demanded a really grand outfitting of all concerned. At this point, Angelica cut in before the viscount could reply: “By the date of your ball, Lydia, Lady Barbara will be the new Lady Desmond, and I have every confidence that you and she together will uphold the family reputation for beauty and elegance.”
If she hoped this remark would end the discussion which had become highly embarrassing, she was mistaken. Lydia, it was true, blinked in surprise, having forgotten completely about her prospective sister-in-law, but the viscount now spoke for the first time since the girls had entered the room. Ignoring Angelica’s comment, he smilingly addressed himself to Lydia’s.
“I quite agree, Lydia, that Miss Wayne must be dressed in the first style of elegance for your ball, but as she is always perfectly attired for every occasion, I think we may forget the puce ruffles and safely leave the selection in her hands. However I must remind you again, Miss Wayne, that since your duties go much beyond the usual requirements for a governess, I insist that it is my responsibility to assume the cost of the additional clothing required to carry out these duties. The bills for the outfit you choose are to be sent to me.” The smile had disappeared before he finished this statement and he was looking quite decided.