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Authors: Hayley A. Solomon

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She scolded herself and walked on, wishing for her cape and muff, another black mark chalked up against Oliver Dobbins. A young man, not dissimilar, tried to stop her course, but Tessie scowled blackly and uttered such a vile epithet that he was startled. Miss Hampstead took advantage of this opportunity by calling, “Thief” and running, with her skirts slightly above her ankles, across the road. She did not stop traffic precisely, but she caused a great deal of reining in of carriage horses and muttered oaths from ostlers. She was hardly aware of it, lost in her thoughts.
Unfortunately, she was contemplating her forthcoming interview to such a degree that she noticed neither one of the newfangled gaslamp posts that proudly blocked her way, nor the eel-pie hawker who shouted his wares. It was in such a shrill tone, too, that it was a testament to the serious nature of her thoughts that she heard him not at all. Crash! She smacked straight into his basket and knocked her head against the lamppost.
Her bonnet was knocked almost off her head, for the ribbons loosened in the turmoil. The hawker was furious, shouting all kinds of threats and demanding an outrageous compensation for such a small calamity. Just as Tessie was despairing, alternately apologizing and fussing with her bonnet and smiling at the vendor and wishing, most prodigiously, for one of his flattened pies, a familiar face appeared before her, mumbling, apologetic, and sweetly sincere.
“M-M-M-miss Hampstead. De-de-delighted to see you again. May I h-h-h-help?”
“Yes, you may! You may pay for all the bleedin' pies what the young lady squashed. No eyes in 'er 'ead, I say!”
Lord Alberkirky ignored the man but dug into his morning coat of smart purple stripes to reveal a shining sovereign.
“There y-y-you are, m-m-man. Stop h-h-hounding the lady. Very uncouth.”
The vendor stopped his grumbling and bit into the coin. It must have satisfied him, for he dropped the basket—Lord Alberkirky had evidently paid handsomely for the privilege of owning
all
the damaged pies—and took off at a trot. He was no slow coach, that one. As he later regaled his mates, “ 'E was not loikely to 'ang about for the downy cove to come to ‘is senses, 'e wasn't. It was up and off ‘e was, with no further murmurin', for ‘oo,” he asked, “up an' pays a guinea when a common coach-weel would be regular right and tight?”
Tessie was not, of course, privy to this jubilation, but she
was
privy to Lord Alberkirky's kind ministrations as he made a rather incongruous bow regardless of the curious onlookers and the basket that stood between them.
“Thank you. I don't know how I came to be so clumsy!”
“As to that, i-i-i-it was the villain's fault. He stepped forward on your gown just as you were passing. I—I— I—I happened to see it, you s-s-s-see, from my chaise.” Tessie looked up and noticed that a barouche, headed by a team of four matched bays, was circling the area.
“Is that yours?”
“Yes, I leaped out wh-wh-when I saw your dis-distress. The d-d-d-driver could not let them stand.”
Tessie hid a smile. “No, indeed. Lord Alberkirky, it appears I am once more in your debt. You are a very kind person indeed.”
With which compliment, Lord Alberkirky started stammering more than ever, and Tessie was positive she could see a hint of youthful color rising to his cheeks. Not that she could make out much of his cheeks, really, for they were hidden away under a collar of quite preposterous proportions. This was compounded by a neckerchief of striped poplin tied in the style of the great Beau Brummell, further obscuring any possible vision Tessie might have acquired of his chin. Upon his person were a great deal of fobs and seals, and Miss Hampstead noticed that several portions of his close-fitting morning coat sported pads.
She did not mind in the least, for his good nature more than compensated for these minor deficiencies. Besides, not
all
men could look perfect. Nicholas Cathgar—and why she should be thinking of him at a horrible time like this she could not say—was merely the notable exception. She would have been horrified to know that the notable exception was even now bearing down upon her from across Great Grosvenor Street on the right.
She did
not
know, however, so she salvaged the steaming eel pies and offered them to Lord Alberkirky, who looked quite bewildered at the offering.
“No, no, Miss Hampstead, I ate at B-b-b-b-Boodles. Very fine dishes they have there, if you must know, with a fine Bordeaux too . . . y-y-yes, by all means t-t-t-t-take them. . . .”
Tessie tucked the basket under her arm. It did not compliment her ribboned reticule, still containing naught but her pistol, the handkerchiefs, and the oddment of pennies and ha'pennies that she'd permitted herself after banking Lord Cathgar's fabulous sum. Nevertheless, the basket exuded the most mouth-watering smell, especially since some of the pastry had yielded to the inner filling, so that great whiffs of the warm, aromatic eel could be detected blocks away.
She rather thought that when she had rid herself of the kind ministrations of Lord Alberkirky, she would partake of lunch. Madame Fanchon, with whom she had no appointment, could surely wait.
“Allow m-m-m-m-me to g-g-give you a r-r-ride.”
“No, indeed. I can walk. Truly.”
“I would s-s-s-s-so like to. See, my horses are restless. Y-you would be doing me a f-f-favor.”
“Tarradiddles, Lord Alberkirky! Your fine horses do not need
me
to be aired! They are in high fettle already, though I fancy the front left is faltering just a little. Perhaps if you were to adjust the harness a fraction?”
“By criminey, you are right! V v-v-very perceptive for a female, if I m-m-m-might s-s-say so!”
“I own a stable of high steppers myself. At least, I used to. Mr. Devonshire is organizing their sale.”
“All because of me! I f-f-feel f-f-f-frightful, Miss Hampstead.”
“No need. You have been very kind. And now, dear sir, I must go.”
“Y-y-y-you
must
step into my chaise! I insist! That basket is heavy, and it is n-n-not fitting for y-y-y-you to walk! Certainly not in Bond Street!”
“It is not fitting for me to step into your chaise either.”
“It is i-i-if I have asked you to m-m-m-marry me!”
Tessie smiled. “You are splitting hairs, Lord Alberkirky!”
A shadow fell across the cobbles. Tessie could not account for it, but her heart began beating quite wildly.
When the basket was wrested from her hand, a pair of ice-white gloves closed upon its handle, she looked up. The Earl of Cathgar was not smiling, but he
did
bow infinitesimally.
Tessie curtsied, though she thought she would rather faint.
Nicholas smiled, a curious, unreadable twist curving his masculine lips.
Fourteen
“We meet again, Miss Hampstead.”
“It appears we do, Lord Cathgar.”
“And in the very heart of Bond Street. Remarkable.”
“Not for a milliner's model!”
“Indeed, I am forgetting.”
Lord Alberkirky looked from Tessie to Lord Cathgar with puzzlement.
Tessie collected her wits. “Lord Alberkirky, are you acquainted with Lord Nicholas Cathgar?”
The penny dropped with Lord Alberkirky. Lord Cathgar—a coxcomb if ever he had seen one—was the man who owed Miss Hampstead ten thousand pounds!
“Y-y-you!” he exclaimed indignantly.
“Yes, it is I.” The arches of Nicholas's brow rose dramatically, and his imperious voice held a cold interrogative. If Tessie knew no better, she would have said that the two gentlemen looked like cockerels at a bantam fight.
Lord Alberkirky, for no real reason that he was aware, felt himself bristle. He felt suddenly rather overdressed in the garments his valet had taken such trouble over. It was maddening, for Lord Cathgar wore only the plainest of frock coats, deep velvety blue, with an ice-white waistcoat matched by a neckerchief of the identical white. It sparkled infinitesimally with sapphires but bore none of the flamboyant pins that Lord Alberkirky effected. Certainly, the ensemble was not striped as Lord Alberkirky's was, in purple, with a canary-yellow underlay. His gloves, fashioned from kid, were merely white rather than the modish yellow-cream Lord Alberkirky proudly sported.
Lord Alberkirky tried vainly to remember that he was tricked out to the very height of fashion, but failed dismally. Lord Cathgar put him to the shade, and for the life of him he could not imagine why. He therefore committed the unusual social solecism of broaching finances in the presence of a lady.
“You owe Miss Hampstead ten thousand p-p-pounds!”
Tessie nearly dropped her reticule in embarrassment.
“Hush . . .” she implored. Lord Alberkirky ignored her.
Lord Cathgar's eyebrows now nearly touched the sky. Or so it seemed to Tessie.
“Are you, my good man, her
banker?
”
“No, I am not, as you are p-p-p-perfectly well aware! But I h-h-h-have asked her f-f-f-f-for her hand in m-mm-m-marriage!”
“Indeed?” Lord Cathgar's voice was excessively low. “Now you interest me greatly.” White gloves clenched across the handle of a silver tipped cane. He spoke with his usual irony, but Tessie noticed a certain tension in his body and across those broad, unpadded shoulders. She wondered whether it was anger or indifference that caused him to turn from her, so that he was facing Lord Alberkirky directly.
Anger, she thought, for his tone was provocative if not downright insulting.
“Well, I d-d-d-don't see why I sh-sh—
should
interest you so!”
“Oh, it is not you, my good man, but your . . . eh . . .
betrothed
who interests me.”
Tessie's hands flew to her mouth. She prayed Lord Alberkirky would not divulge the fact that his suit had been rejected.
Let
Lord Cathgar think her engaged! It was what she wanted, was it not? She rubbed a stupid tear that threatened to ruin the ribbons of her bonnet and smiled blindingly at Lord Alberkirky. He was so surprised, he nearly stepped back onto the bustling London road.
Lord Cathgar prevented this calamity by lifting his cane and providing a temporary barrier. Lord Alberkirky, staring at the ebony stick with its wicked silver tip, stuttered something quite inaudible. Nicholas, the devil in him, asked him to repeat his words.
“Sh-sh-sh-she is
not
my betrothed.”
“Ah, rejected you, did she?” Nick attempted to sound sympathetic but failed dismally. His cane returned to the ground, but not before his blue eyes turned from Lord Alberkirky's and raked poor Tessie's instead. Mortified, she glared at his gleaming hessians, refusing, for once, to be drawn. Nick sighed loudly and, oblivious to the infelicitous surroundings, drew a pinch of snuff.
Lord Alberkirky, catching a whiff on the morning breeze, wished he dared ask for the blend. Instead, he drew himself up straight, shuffled a little with his commodious cravat, swallowed once or twice, and took up Miss Hampstead's cause. After all, it was the least that he considered he owed her after accidentally winning her fortune. He did not answer the more pressing question of whether she had or had not rejected him. Tessie could only breathe a sigh of relief and pray that her paper-thin deception could prevail.
“Y-y-y-you still owe her ten thousand golden canaries!”
“My dear man, do go consult your tailor or some such thing! You
must
have some business that is actually your
own?”
Tessie eyed the two gentlemen with misgiving. Lord Alberkirky looked brimful of indignation, his starched collar seeming two inches higher, if possible.
“This is my business C-C-C-Cathgar! I have made it s-s-s-so! By George, if Miss Hampstead is too delicate a l-l-l-lady to broach the subject, I shall do so for her!”
Tessie and the earl spoke at once, but Lord Cathgar, sad to say, prevailed, whether from the force of his voice or from the justice of his comments, one cannot be certain.
“How
fascinating
that Miss Hampstead has such a champion. But it appears that she is
not
as delicate as you indicate.”
Tessie squirmed as laughing eyes sought her own. He was amused, dammit! She did not know whether to laugh with him or to simply shoot him. Probably both. Lord Alberkirky, oblivious to the tension he was creating, continued his challenge manfully.
“Are you insulting Miss Hampstead? B-b-by George, in the absence of any m-m-m-male relatives, I should challenge you for that!”
Lord Cathgar did not break the gaze that was turning Tessie's knees to trembling jelly beneath her prim petticoats of plain white cambric. Rather, he grinned quirkishly at her but raised his voice for Lord Alberkirky's edification.
“My, my! Quite pugnacious, isn't he? You appear to have discovered yet another conquest, Miss Hampstead. Take care you do not leave a veritable trail of broken hearts across the length of England!”
Tessie ignored this sarcasm but informed Lord Alberkirky that Lord Cathgar's debts of honor had already been settled.
“Oh! B-b-b-beg pardon, Cathgar! I had no notion . . .”
“No, indeed. How could you?” Cathgar smiled, his tone nonchalantly forgiving. Tessie thought he looked mighty pleased with himself and felt some not inconsiderable misgiving. He gently touched her waist, urging her subtly forward against the stream of hawkers and their wares.
“Shall we walk on, or shall we just allow all these spectators to enjoy our elegant discourse?”
Lord Alberkirky remembered his tiger, no doubt relishing the ribbons of his well-matched team. “M-m-m-my cattle are just t-t-t-tooling the block. . . .”
“Ah, very good. Then we will not keep you.”
Poor Lord Alberkirky looked confused. He made a bow to Tessie. “If you are cer-cer-cer-certain . . .”
“Yes, I am certain. Thank you, Lord Alberkirky. For everything.”
The gentleman impulsively took her hand. “You will not reconsider . . . I mean, m-m-mama would c-c-come round . . .”
“No. I thank you all the same.” Tessie glanced at Lord Cathgar. She hoped he had not understood the content of this last inquiry. He was regarding her with a quizzical light in his eye that made her rather nervous, and her heart plummeted to the bottom of her kidskin boots. If he had understood, then he would know that she had told him only a half-truth about Lord Alberkirky's proposal—she had indeed been honored with an offer, but that offer had never, never, never at any time been accepted.
Fortunately, he did not appear to have heard a thing, for he waited patiently for Tessie to complete her curtsy, then transferred the basket of squashed eel pies to his right hand. Tessie stole a glance at him. His expression was too bland to read, but she fancied she detected his lips twitching. How provoking! He was laughing at her!
It was he who should have looked comical, with all those pies, but instead he looked imposing, and regal, and . . . . damnably attractive. Tessie felt her resolve weaken as he marched her off Bond Street and into Upper Grosvenor, where a splendid crested chaise, enameled in a powder blue, awaited the earl's pleasure.
He nodded to the coachman, who instantly leaped down from his perch seat, opened the sapphire-paneled door, and waited primly as Nicholas helped Tessie to ascend. Only when the door was shut and the reins taken up once more did he speak.
“Tuck a carriage blanket around your feet. You look frozen.”
“I am merely chilled.”
“And so you should be! This weather is not fit for a young lady with neither muff nor pelisse! I can't conceive what you might be thinking of, for don't say you can't spare some of my ten thousand pounds for a wrap at least! ”
In spite of herself, Tessie bristled. “It is not
your
ten thousand pounds, it is
mine!
And I am saving it for Hampstead Oaks.”
“Very noble, but your tenants will have no cause to thank you if you should drop dead from an inflammation of the lungs! And while I am scolding—which invariably I seem to do with you—a young lady has no cause to walk up Bond Street alone.”
Tessie scowled, but Nick continued. “You are lucky that that
abominable
gown does not do your features any credit. If you were recognized, it would be a scandal.”
“It is
not
abominable! It is merely the color that is unfortunate, though I am sure these rosettes are perfectly acceptable. . . .”
“They are not, though I am no arbiter of ladies' fashion.”
“There you go, then!”
“I do, however, know,” Nick continued ruthlessly, “that spangles are currently more modish.”
Tessie opened her mouth to dispute the claim, then shut it again wisely. Nicholas, as usual, was perfectly right. And doubtless he had every cause to know every detail of ladies' fashion. The thought was not comforting.
“Good God, you are silent!”
“Only till I can think of a scathing enough reply. And you may start haranguing me, my lord. You forget that I am
not
a young lady, I am a milliner's apprentice.” Tessie hesitated a moment, for the aroma of the pies was driving her crazy in the warm carriage. The earl smiled lazily.
“Those are
my
pies.”
“Which you will share with me, for I have had a damnable morning and missed my breakfast.”
“Very well, though if you are talking of conduct, I might mention it is perfectly reprehensible of you to be kidnapping me in this manner!”
“I am not kidnapping you, merely enhancing your already tarnished reputation. Which milliner have you acquired employment with?”
Tessie had the grace to blush. “None, for Millicent Dorsom was a sad disappointment, but I have hopes. . . .”
“Good God, you did not apply to Millicent Dorsom, did you?”
“Yes, I did, though why—”
“My poor, green girl. What did she say?”
Tessie lowered her eyes to the carriage floor. It was apparent that his lordship already
knew
what Miss Dorsom might have suggested, for he was calling her green again.
“You might have warned me!”
“And have you snap my head off for meddling? I told you millinery was a damn foolish idea!”
“How was I to know Miss Dorsom's was not respectable? Indeed, how do
you
know?”
Lord Cathgar's eyes lit up with laughter. “What a singularly unladylike question! Not at all the thing to ask an unmarried gentleman with . . . a kindly disposition!”
“Oh! ” Tessie felt mortified. Both with herself and with Lord Cathgar's careless answer. It was foolish, but she could not help thinking of the likes of Petra or Elsie wrapping their arms about his chest . . . no, she would not allow her imagination to wonder further than that.
“Very wise. Alter the direction of your thoughts. Much more
comme il faut!”
“Oh! You are a beast!”
Nick grinned. “I like to see you blush. And I have this overwhelming urge to kiss you again, which I shall manfully suppress and offer you some of these revolting pies.”
“They are not revolting, merely squashed.”
“Yes, I saw the accident occur. It is fortunate, is it not, that I was driving in that vicinity at precisely that moment?”
Tessie thought so, for her heart, foolishly, was singing. She made no comment, however, preferring to remove her gloves and choose an enormous eel pie filled with steaming potatoes and other unidentifiable vegetables. She took a bite, then another, ignoring the fact that she was ruining her precious olive morning dress by dripping slivers of eel upon her lap. Nicholas drew out his kerchief and aided her, his touch coming as much as a shock as ever. Tessie would have protested, but her mouth was full and she was not so far beyond redemption that she would open it thus. So he had the infinite pleasure of scooping hot eel from her skirts as she licked her fingers with the greatest of satisfaction.

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