A Breath of Scandal: The Reckless Brides (26 page)

“I assure you, sir,” she said immediately. “Your source is not to be trusted. My equitation was not in the least manner alarming. I was in perfect control of my mount throughout the meet. How else should I have kept up with the huntsmen?”

“Kept up with the huntsmen? My God. Have you no sense of propriety, you unruly child? You do not even attempt to deny it.”

“I have no need to deny it. It is a fact, sir. I rode with the Ditcham Hunt. As did a number of other ladies. They are not so restrictive in Ditcham country.”

“My concern is not with other ladies, whoever they may be. My concern is with you. Do you not think that you owe me an apology? Do you not see how poorly your behavior reflects upon me?”

His tone made her temper flare. “Not in the least. I owe no apology for hunting where I was invited, and my behavior, whatever it may be, is my own concern, and none of your affair. How can my behavior reflect upon you, when our agreement is private, and not made public to all and sundry? We are not engaged, sir.”

His lordship’s head reared back, as if he had been hit. Good. Odious, patronizing man. She would give him “unruly child.”

“So,” he said slowly, as if considering her anew, “you mean to force my hand into a formal announcement?”

Oh, bloody Lord God, no. No. No. No. That was not in the least what she meant to do.

But if his lordship meant to force the matter, there was only one change she could weather. She would trust upon the acquaintance she and Cassandra had established with the Jellicoe family, and would burn this bridge behind her. “No, sir. Not at all. In fact, I feel it is incumbent upon me to inform you—”

“Well!” Mama hastened into the room in a great rush. “I’ve ordered more tea, your lordship. But Antigone, look at you. You’re soaked through and making a puddle on my carpet. Come, come.” Her mother took her elbow and propelled her toward the door. “I must have you go up immediately. You must go up, right away.”

“His lordship and I are not done with our discussion, Mama. There is more I would say.” Now that she had begun, now that the end was in sight, she didn’t mean to return to the no-man’s-land of the secret engagement, any more than she wanted to move forward to a formal one.

But her mother could read her intent as if it were writ across her face. “Whatever you have to say must keep,” her mother insisted. “You are not fit for company at present. I’m sure his lordship will agree with me.”

“Indeed,” was all his lordship deigned to say, before he finally rose. “Indeed, I have said all I mean to today. I will see myself out, Mrs. Preston. Miss Antigone.” He bowed abruptly, and without waiting for Antigone to return the courtesy, he departed.

Mama waited to hear the the front door close behind him before she let out her breath, and let go of Antigone’s arm. “Heaven help us. I knew this would happen. I knew I couldn’t be forever hushing up your misadventures to Lord Aldridge. Are you deliberately trying to ruin everything?”

“Not everything, Mama. Only my part of it. I can’t keep this up forever, Mama. And I will not have him making the agreement formal. I will not.”

“Forever is not necessary,” her mother railed, “for
now
is. Lord Aldridge must be held off
for now.
How many times do you need me to explain? It is all working exactly as I had planned. Viscount Jeffrey came to call today! What do you think about that?”

Antigone knew what was coming, so she settled down into a convenient chair to wait her mother out, like a spring flood.

“Viscount Jeffrey, the heir to the Earl Sanderson. Came to call upon your sister. Sat in this very drawing room, and made the most charming conversation with Cassandra. I’ve never seen anything like it. And where were you? Nowhere to be found. Out gallivanting across the countryside with that expensive horse of yours—we should have sold it long ago—infuriating Lord Aldridge with your behavior. Lord Aldridge, without whom visits from Viscount Jeffrey never would have happened. If not for Lord Aldridge introducing us to his sister, and his sister agreeing to hold the ball, your sister never would have had the opportunity to meet a Viscount Jeffrey.”

Without Antigone punching Mr. Stubbs-Haye and hiding in the library, she never would have met Commander William Jellicoe, and he never would have persuaded his brother to make an outing to Cowdray, and Viscount Jeffrey would never had the opportunity to be taken by Cassie’s quiet charm. Fate was an interesting gamble.

“I take it you were pleased with the young man, then?”

“How could I not be pleased? Another fortnight should see it through—a month at most. You must steel yourself for another fortnight.” Mama went on without troubling herself to wait for Antigone’s consent. “Oh, he is exactly,
exactly
the man for your sister. Exactly. So handsome and amiable. So charming and kind.”

So conveniently, blessedly rich.

“Impeccable manners,” her mother rattled on. “Elegant driving costume. No matter the weather, he had not a speck of mud on him. Not a speck. Even his fastidious lordship Aldridge could not manage that, though
he
came in a closed carriage.”

At last, Antigone found her lips curving into a begrudging smile. “I am glad you are prepared to find at least some fault with the man, Mama.”

“I am prepared to
overlook
a good deal more, if it means my daughters will marry well.”

“‘Well’ has a host of other meanings, Mama, none of which will stand up to scrutiny where Lord Aldridge is concerned.”

Her mother tossed up her hands in disgust and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Why? Why must you act like this? Why must you constantly turn up your nose? You don’t see Cassandra acting like that, do you?”

Cassandra was not the one engaged to a cold, old, disapproving man. Cassandra was allowed to smile at charming young men, and go on outings with them without being lectured to. Cassandra was allowed to be happy.

With that enormously hideous thought, the emotional and physical toll of the long day finally caught up with her, ringing through her like curfew, leaving her exhausted. “Mama, I am tired, and we have already had this discussion so many times, if we have it once more, I think my ears will bleed.”

“Antigone. Don’t be so cruel.” Mama retreated to her usual stance with a handkerchief fluttering up to her eyes. “Sarcasm isn’t becoming.”

This was what she had come to. Scratching like a cat at her own mother. She didn’t mean to be cruel, but it was so hard, always trying to rein herself in, always trying to remember what was best for Cassie or Mama. She just wanted to think that Mama was looking after her, at least a little, and not the other way round. She didn’t want to feel so awful and jealous and cruel. And desperate and alone.

And wet. And growing cold now that the heat of indignation was wearing off. It was probably too much to hope that Mrs. Little would have had the forethought to send Sally up to light a fire. They couldn’t afford the coal anyway. But when Antigone trudged up the stairs, and pushed open the door to her room, it was Cassie who was there, bent over the fire.

“It will be warmer … in a moment.” Her sister brushed her hands off and stood. “Come, let … Let me help you.”

The jealous spasm subsided in the face of such obvious openheartedness. “Thank you.” Antigone pulled off her soggy hat, and turned so her sister could help peel the damp, tight, high-waisted jacket off her shoulders. “I understand you had a caller today. Clearly, you have something to tell me.”

Cassie nodded, her eyes shining brightly in the warming firelight. “He came,” she whispered.

“Viscount Jeffrey.” Antigone took her sister’s hands and led her to the fire. “Tell me.”

They sank down together to the hearth rug, sitting face-to-face, so close their foreheads almost touched, just as they had done from childhood. When Cassie couldn’t get the words out, Antigone would bring her close, and tell her to whisper her words as silently as if they were the greatest secrets.

“He came to
call.
” Cassandra’s voice was nothing but ardent air. “For me. To see me.”

“Yes. Of course he did, Cassie my love.”

“He came at … precisely three o’clock. Not a moment sooner, or a moment later. I saw him first from my window, coming along the drive, and at first I thought it might be your Commander Jellicoe—”

“He’s not my Commander Jellicoe, Cassie.” Not anymore. Not that he ever really was.

“But it was Viscount Jeffrey. You would have … marveled at his horses and carriage.”

Antigone smiled at her sister. “But
you
don’t care about such things.”

“No, but he looked fine. Oh, so very fine. And Mama was stunned. Simply stunned. I went running down to the drawing room, so I could be there when he came in, and you should have seen the expression on Mama’s face when Mrs. Little announced him. She couldn’t say anything. Just stared at him as if she couldn’t believe it. As if she thought she must be imagining him. I’m surprised she didn’t walk over and try to pinch him, just to be sure.”

“Oh, Cassie.”

Her sister tipped back her head, and closed her eyes. “It was divine.”

“I’m so glad. What did you talk about?” Conversation was usually where Cassie’s difficulties began. As long as she didn’t have to speak, Cassie could get by tolerably well in some social situations. But when a gentleman came to call, he expected to be spoken to.

“I said—very slowly and quietly, the way you taught me—I hoped his drive had not been too bad in the wet weather. And he smiled—he smiles so very nicely—and said it was good for the fields and the crops, and that was more important than anything else, so he didn’t mind putting up with a little mud. Which I think shows something both mature, and wise, and very amiable.”

“Very amiable,” Antigone agreed.

“Oh, he is the most amiable man.” Cassie squeezed her fingers to emphasize every word.

“And also very handsome,” Antigone teased. “Handsome enough for someone as utterly beautiful as you.”

“Oh, and he said the loveliest thing. He said he was glad to see me again to be reminded that I was beautiful, because he had remembered me as being so very clever after our outing to Cowdray. He was teasing of course, but it was gallant of him.”

“Not just gallant—intelligent. And perceptive, to understand that you are just as clever as you are beautiful, even if you don’t talk all the time.”

“But it is easy to talk to him. He seems to understand, to be sympathetic in understanding. Even if I don’t say much, or if I stammer, he understands. With him it is not such a chore to talk.”

“Oh, Cassie. You really do like him, don’t you? I am glad.” Antigone was also glad she was smiling with her sister, because it kept her from crying in her happiness. “It is just as I told you it would be. A man who can see all the parts of you is a man who just might possibly be worthy of you.”

“Oh, Annie.” Cassie let out a tremulous sigh. “And Mama was in alt. You should have seen her after he left. Fifteen minutes, precisely, he stayed, not two minutes more. So correct. All that way, Annie, he came all that way from Downpark for fifteen minutes. But when he took his leave, and ascended back onto his phaeton, Mama just dropped down into her chair and cried. She was so happy, she cried.”

“I can imagine.” She could also imagine all that happiness drying up the moment Lord Aldridge had brought his complaints about Antigone to her door. No wonder her mother had been so brusque.

But it didn’t matter anymore. Viscount Jeffrey had come, and Cassie was as happy and smiling as Antigone had ever seen her. And Lord Aldridge would listen to his cronies from the Ship’s Bell and the Ditcham hunt, and remember his sister’s strident opinions, and he would learn to think better of his decision to engage himself to Miss Antigone Preston.

And she would be free. Free to watch her sister be happy. And free to ride her mare, and see to the garden, and do as she pleased. Free to be alone. And free to forget she had once fallen in love with Commander Will Jellicoe.

*   *   *

“Annie, wake up.” Her sister was shaking her shoulder. “We’ve received an invitation. Wake up.”

“I’m up, I’m
up,
” Antigone groused. She had had a predictably fitful night full of confusing, waking thoughts and shadowy, half-remembered dreams. “And where do we go?” With any luck it would not be another invitation to visit Lady Barrington. Being shown out of her house once had been enough.

“It is from Downpark. Mrs. Preston and the Misses Preston. See?” Cassandra pushed the missive in front of her face.

Antigone sat up in bed. “Yes, I see. Who is it from?”

“The Countess Sanderson.” Cassie’s voice brimmed with excitement. “A liveried manservant just came with it while I was at breakfast, and Sally brought it to me. And he’s waiting for a reply in our kitchen, the manservant. Oh, I’m so glad that you’re to be included, as well. It makes me so much easier to know that I’ll have you there.”

“Did you send a reply?” Antigone felt her own excitement rise. “Where is Mama? What has she got to say?”

“I wanted to tell you first. Mama is still in her rooms. I didn’t know if I should disturb her.”

“Is the invitation for today?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it. All I know is that it is from the Countess Sanderson.” Cassie’s voice was brimming over with more excitement than Antigone had ever heard.

“Then let us wake Mama directly. She will want as much time as possible to prepare, whether that is four days or four hours, she will not want a minute to go to waste.”

Mrs. Little was enlisted to fortify Mama with chocolate to prepare her for the shock of having all her plans come to fruition.

“The Countess Sanderson?” Mama was instantly awake. “Antigone, get the curtains. Let me see.” She took the elegantly folded, cream-colored, sealed letter from her daughter’s hands, and then just as quickly handed it back. “Read it to me.”

“The Countess Sanderson,” Cassie read, “would be pleased to invite Mrs. Preston and the Misses Preston to take tea with her at Downpark.”

Her mother’s paroxysms of joy lasted no longer than a moment before she moved on to the more important considerations of logistics. “The sprigged muslin,” she advised Cassandra, “with the lavender ribbons, and the dark purple velvet spencer. Antigone, what is the weather? How is the ground? Is there still so much mud? If there is no mud then the white kid half-boots will do well, Cassandra. And we must have—”