A Matter of Honor (9 page)

His lordship coughed suddenly, almost, thought Aggie, as though he were concealing a laugh, but his face was suitably stern. “Do not let the Jersey hear you call
her
old,” he warned. “She can ruin your reputation in ten seconds flat.”

Cecilie tossed her curls, but she asked, “How shall I recognize Lady Jersey?”

Denby smiled. “She’s small and dark, piquant. With great dark eyes. And she likes men.” His gaze flicked toward Aggie and away again, and once more she felt that she was supposed to hear more than the words actually said.

It was then that the guests began arriving and it seemed to Aggie that they stood for hours, nodding and smiling, hearing names that she, at least, would never be able to recall.

However, she had no problem in recognizing or remembering Lady Jersey. Although no longer young, Jersey obviously took good care of herself. Her gown of pale lavender was constructed of the “fine” French muslin and revealed the lady’s form in all its delights. From a small heart-shaped face two great dark eyes under long black lashes gazed at Aggie and she felt a sudden chill. The Jersey might like men; it was obvious that she did not care much for women. Aggie deliberately looked away as the lady smiled up at Denby from eyes gone suddenly very warm.

But finally the main task of greeting was over. Then Aggie was free to stand by the great banks of flowers, behind the line of dowagers in their chairs, and watch Cecilie
being led through the steps of the dance. Every man who partnered her was catalogued and f
i
led in Aggie’s mind. None of them seemed particularly appealing to her, but she was aware that no man held much attraction for her but the unattainable Denby himself. She tried to think as Cecilie would. Consequently it was upon the best dancers that she bent her most intent gaze.

She was thus occupied when a sudden commotion by the door caught her attention. Curious, she looked to see what latecomer had caused such a furor. Framed in the doorway stood a tall blond woman. She did not wear the French muslin; her gown was of silk, a deep and vibrant blue that seemed to draw all eyes. But perhaps it was not the gown itself, thought Aggie with a twinge of envy, but the way it f
i
t, that caught one
’
s attention. It looked like the lady had been poured into it, and with some caution, too, for fear the seams might split. The bodice was cut low, so low that it almost seemed as though at any moment her barely restrained bosom might escape its conf
i
nes altogether. There was a decided rustle as the dowagers leaned toward each other.

“The woman’s a fool
,
” said one in red and white striped silk that reminded Aggie of an awning at the fair.
“
Denby’s too sensible to be lured by such display.”

The other matron, whose gown of bright yellow satin was in glaring contrast to a deep purple turban trimmed in green-dyed ostrich plumes
,
giggled in falsetto tones before replying in a hoarse whisper. “Denby’s a man, ain’t he? And you’ve got to admit Lady Alicia’s got the looks for it. Her bosom’s not as good as mine was, but it’ll do. It’ll do.”

Her face crimson, Aggie moved silently away. So this was the fabled Lady Alicia
Temple. She paused beside a palm to take another look. Lady Alicia still stood in the doorway
,
surveying the crowd before her with imperious eyes. Certainly she did not lack conf
i
dence. Now Aggie wished she had stayed where she was. She might have heard more about Denby and Lady Alicia - heard, for instance, if they were already engaged in some sort of illicit - liaison.

As she watched, heart in mouth, Denby crossed the room to welcome the newcomer. Her gloved hands reached out to grab his and the kiss she gave him was hardly a mere salute of greeting. In fact, it might have become embarrassing if Denby had not extricated himself from her embrace and led the lady to the dance floor.

Lady Alicia trod the measures of the quadrille with grace, her blue-green eyes laughing warmly up at the Earl. Aggie felt a lump rising in her throat. Just so had he once looked down at her. For a terrible second she found herself wishing that some misfortune might befall the golden Lady Alicia. If only someone would step on that too-tight gown
,
causing the seams to part and leaving the lady exposed in her petticoat -if she were wearing one.

Aggie stopped her wandering imagination in dismay. It was surely not the lady’s fault the way Denby chose to behave. To be thinking such evil thoughts was very unlike her; Aggie felt a trifle ashamed.

She turned her attention determinedly
from the Earl and sought among the throng for Cecilie’s small form. Finally she found her, pacing off the measures of the quadrille with a sober-faced gentleman of middle age. He seemed quite attentive, but even at this distance Aggie could tell that Cecilie was bored. Unfortunately, the girl was not trying very hard to hide it from her partner. She returned little perfunctory nods to his remarks
,
remarks which from the earnest expression on his face might well have been compliments. Cecilie’s behavior, however, did not seem to daunt her admirer, who amiably escorted her back to Aggie’s side, paid her another compliment, and departed, still smiling.

“Who is that gentleman?” inquired Aggie casually.

Cecilie frowned. “He’s the Marquess Connors. Quite fatiguing.”

“He seemed to dance well,” commented Aggie half aloud, as though to herself.

Cecilie shrugged. “Yes, he does. But when I asked about his cattle
-
” She sent Aggie a sidelong glance. “To find, you know, if he is a good rider.”

Aggie nodded.

“Well, he isn’t.” Cecilie’s small mouth formed a moue of disgust. “And then he read me the most dreadful lecture on the folly of keeping a big stable. All about the horrible expense of so many cattle, with figures and all. And then he went off scolding me about racing. He’s quite a disagreeable creature. I hope he keeps his distance.” Her eyes began to search out over the throng, but the expression on her face was not hopeful. “There’s not a real out and outer in the whole room,” she complained. “Lady Bakiston’s guest list
stinks.
“

This last was far too loud for Aggie’s peace of mind. “Please, Cecilie
.
You must not carry on so. Someone may hear you.”

“I don’t care,” said Cecilie stubbornly, but she lowered her tone and cast a furtive glance around to see where the Earl might be. Thus it was that she discovered him dancing. “Aggie, who is that woman?” she asked curiously. “She simply hangs on his lordship.”

“That,” said Aggie in a voice she tried to strip of emotion, “is Lady Alicia Temple. She is a friend of the Earl’s.”

“An old, old friend from the looks of things,” said Cecilie bluntly.

Aggie was about to reprimand her and then thought better of it. Sometimes the information learned from servants was very useful.

“I don’t like her,” said Cecilie definitely. “She’s far too obvious about it. A woman should wait to be chased. Or,” she added with a mischievous smile, “at least let the man
think
so.”

“Cecil
-”
Aggie began, but her charge was already gone in a swirl of satin skirts. Aggie sighed. Life was not getting any easier. Not at all. And getting Cecilie safely married was not going to be a simple matter.

She sank down on a nearby chair. Thankfully there were no more dragonish
dowagers nearby to tell her that they remembered
her
come out. Several had already done so, to her great embarrassment. And then there were the several older ladies, not yet dowagers but obviously obsessed with the fading of their charms, who had congratulated her on her entry into Denby’s
establishment. It was not until after the third of these creatures had dropped something about “so many advantages and the Earl such a prime article,” that her dazed mind accepted the facts. These women clearly believed that she meant to parlay her position as Cecilie’s companion into some kind of alliance with Denby
.
And from their sly looks and the way they rolled their eyes it was clear that they were not thinking of any honorable connection. This had become clear to her as she was speaking to this last woman and Aggie flushed scarlet to the roots of her hair an
d
started to move away. But the offender had grabbed her arm. “I didn’t mean to put you to the blush, my dear. But at your age - After all, we must take advantage of our opportunities.”

Aggie had only been able to nod. Finally, spying a friend, the other woman had released her and trotted off.

Now, remembering, Aggie took a deep breath. She had to accept this as she accepted the rest. She had nowhere to run - no hiding place, no comforter, no partner in life. The man who had been supposed to take that place in her life had not done so. She must fend for herself. She tried to wrench her mind away from those terrible women and concentrate on Cecilie and what was happening to her.

As she stood looking out over the dance floor, she felt a presence behind her. Without turning, she knew instantly that Denby stood there, his eyes fastened upon her. She forced herself to remain still. S
h
e did not want to get into any contention with him; or to have him argue with Cecilie
.
So far things had been going along quite well. Aggie wanted them to continue to do so.

Denby took the step that brought him up beside her. He stood so close that the arm of his coat brushed the sleeve of her gown. “It seems to be going well, does it not?” he said conversationally.

“Very well, milord,” replied Aggie
,
her eyes still on the floor.

“Do you think Cecilie has seen anyone she finds suitable?”

Aggie shook her head. “I think not.” She forced herself to turn and face him. “You must understand Cecilie. She is very young. She wants a young man. Someone to have fun with.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

“Fun?” said the Earl in a tone of disbelief, his eyes clouding over. “My acquaintance with the institution of matrimony is limited and is not of a f
i
rsthand nature,” he said somewhat dryly. “But never have I heard of anyone who was leg-shackled merely for the fun of it!”

“Cecilie is young,” Aggie repeated. “Her mother died when she was still a babe. She has little idea of the reality of marriage.”

“Have you considered informing her?” asked the Earl in the same dry tones.

“Of course I have. But Cecilie only learns from experience; words of advice have very little effect on her.”

The Earl sighed. “I must have been daft or in my cups to take on the guardianship of such a creature. Thank God I have no daughters of my own who will someday
reach this obnoxious condition.”

“If you had daughters, milord,” replied Aggie over the lump in her throat, “I am conf
i
dent you’d do better at raising them than Cecilie’s papa did.”

His eyes reflected amazement. “You are? I should have thought you’d pity the poor things for having a tyrant for a papa.”

Aggie allowed herself a small smile. “A tyrant, if he be consistent in his tyranny, can be lived with,” she declared. “When a man is swayed by tears and pouts, a young person becomes quite spoiled and self-indulgent. And if he runs now hot, now cold - first persuadable and then not - his children may be very disturbed; for there is no consistency in their lives.”

The Earl’s eyes were suddenly warm. “You have a great knowledge of children,” he said in a voice of admiration.

“It is a necessary prerequisite for a governess-companion,” replied Aggie, losing herself in the warm depths of his gaze.

And then, just as he leaned toward her confidentially, just as he seemed about to say something very important, there was the rustle of satin and the sound of a deep husky voice. “There you are, Denby
,
you bad boy. Come. Since you refuse to let them play any waltzes, you must dance this quadrille with me.”

Before she turned, Aggie knew that the voice belonged to Lady Alicia Temple. For one long moment his lordship’s eyes still held hers. Then he turned and she did the same. Up close
.
Lady Alicia was even more stunning. Her complexion was flawless, her hair the hue of burnished gold, and the cut of her gown
...
Aggie averted her eyes.

“Lady Temple,” said the Earl, evidently wishing to preserve the amenities, “this is Miss Trimble
,
Miss Winthrop’s companion.”

The two women stared at each other. Aggie endeavored to keep her face blankly polite, but Lady Alicia evidently felt no such constraint. Her glance was direct and derogatory, as though she had no time to waste on lowly companions. Her aristocratic nose wrinkled in what could only be called distaste and her nod was as imperceptible as possible.

Aggie returned the nod, wishing again that someone would give this high-and-mighty
lady the set-down she needed. But the Earl obeyed the tug on his arm and followed to the dance floor where Lady Alicia’s
execution of the intricate measures of the quadrille still did not burst the gown’s strained seams. Like a sausage casing, thought Aggie angrily, that’s what the lady looked like - a blue stuffed sausage. But for some reason the ridiculous image did not serve to cheer her up. How like the man to be taken by some overblown creature like that, who exposed her charms to public viewing.

Aggie turned away. This kind of thinking was stupid - and futile. The Earl was Cecilie’s guardian; that was all. As long as he conducted himself properly on that score, what he did with his private life was no concern of hers. No concern at all.

Chapter Seven

For a few days after the ball, things went quite well in Denby’s establishment. Cecilie
moved about, keeping Dillydums always with her. The monkey seemed very contented and at home except that whenever Denby entered the room the little creature ran gibbering into Cecilie’s arms and hid his face in her shoulder. No wonder, thought Aggie, the poor thing no doubt remembered his ill-treatment at the hands of the Earl. A dry smile twisted Aggie’s mouth at such thoughts. The Earl had a great deal of ill-treatment to account for!