A Wicked Gentleman (28 page)

H
OLD THE LADDER STEADY
, L
IV
,” Cornelia said hurriedly as she reached the midpoint on the steps, and they began to shake alarmingly.

“I'm trying,” Livia said, “but there's a ruck in the carpet and it's making it unbalanced. Come down, and we'll straighten it.”

Cornelia descended the ladder. “It's those damn dogs,” she complained. “They were chasing each other under the table last night, and they must have rolled up the rug.” She lifted the stepladder while Aurelia and Livia straightened out the Aubusson carpet.

“There, that's better.” Aurelia experimentally shook the ladder. “It seems stable enough now.”

“Good. Now we'll see if there's anything of interest in that fresco.” Cornelia gathered up the striped muslin skirt of her new morning gown and went nimbly up the ladder while her friends held it steady. At the top she knelt precariously on the little platform and tilted her head back to look up at the painted ceiling.

“I don't see…oh, yes, I do.” She went into a peal of laughter, and the ladder wobbled violently. She grabbed hastily at the sides.

“Good God, what in the devil's name are you doing up there?”

Harry's startled voice from the open door of the dining room distracted Livia and Aurelia, who both turned their heads towards him, their hold on the ladder slackening with their attention.

“What are you doing? Don't let go,” Cornelia yelped, as the ladder swayed.

Harry moved swiftly. He plucked her off the ladder just as she was about to lose her balance. He held her in the air for an instant, his hands warm at her waist, then he set her on her feet again. “Dear girl, what
are
you doing? You'll break your neck.”

Cornelia, flustered, tried to regain her composure, never an easy task when he stood this close to her and she could still feel the imprint of his hands at her waist. “I was looking at the fresco,” she explained finally.

“Why?” He looked up at it himself.

“Because we had a suspicion that there was more to it than meets the eye,” Aurelia answered. “Is there, Nell?”

She nodded, her eyes brimming with laughter. “Oh, yes. It's positively lewd in parts. Those cherubims and seraphims are up to all sorts of tricks. Go up and take a look.”

Aurelia needed no second invitation. She hopped onto the ladder. “Hold tight.”

“Let me do that.” Harry gave up thoughts of further protestation and took a firm hold of the struts. Aurelia's skirts billowed as she climbed upwards to put her knee on the platform, as Cornelia had done.

She craned her neck, gazing upwards, and then she too went into a burst of laughter. “Oh, my heavens, what
are
they up to?”

“No good, that's for sure,” Cornelia said, her own voice throbbing with laughter.

“Let me look,” Livia demanded impatiently.

Aurelia came down and Livia took her place. Harry, resigned to his allotted role, remained patiently steadying the stepladder. Livia's peal of merriment soon joined her friends'. “Oh, that's not physically possible,” she gasped. “How could there be three of them doing that at once?”

“All right,” Harry said. “I have to see whatever this is. Come down, Livia.” He lifted her unceremoniously clear of the ladder and went up himself. There was a short expectant silence, then he muttered, “Good God,” and descended the steps.

“I think Aunt Sophia ran a house of ill repute,” Cornelia declared, wiping her eyes with a scrap of lace handkerchief. “What with pornographic paper knives, lewd frescos and jelly molds. I wonder what else there is?”

“I dread to think.” Harry stood with his hands on his hips, gazing upwards again. “What an extraordinary imagination.”

“Maybe it's based not so much on imagination as on experience,” Cornelia said, still chuckling. “When did you arrive? We didn't hear the knocker.”

“Because I had no need to knock,” he responded. “A maid was polishing the knocker, and the door was therefore open. I heard you laughing, and I'm afraid curiosity got the better of me.” He raised an eyebrow. “Should I have waited for Morecombe to have announced me?”

“You may as well wait for the last trump,” Cornelia said, shaking out the folds of her skirt. “Would you care for a glass of sherry?”

“Thank you.” He followed the women across the hall and into the parlor. “Have you heard from your cousin yet?” His casual tone belied his intense interest in their answer as he sat down without waiting for an invitation, crossing his tasseled Hessians at the ankle.

“No.” It was Aurelia who answered him, her brow creased in a worried frown. “We've sent two messages to the marquess of Coltrain's house, but apparently Nigel's friend, Garston, has gone out of town and no one seems to know whether Nigel accompanied him or not.”

“I'm sure he did,” Harry said. There was no point alarming them at this stage with his own less than complete knowledge of the man's present situation. He accepted a glass of sherry from Cornelia, his fingers casually brushing against hers as he did so. He felt the tingling surge go through her matching the current that electrified him, and for a second their eyes met in a caress as palpable as if it had been a touch.

Cornelia turned away, stifling a smile. “Yes, that's what we think. There seems no other explanation,” she said, picking up the thread smoothly. “He's probably at some friend's hunting box.”

Harry offered a noncommittal nod and sipped his sherry. Children's voices rose high and imperative from the hall. The yapping of the dogs joined in the cacophony and a high-pitched shriek that was unmistakably Franny's shattered the air like glass.

“It's those wretched dogs,” Aurelia said, “They keep jumping up at her. Excuse me.” She hurried to the parlor door.

“I'll get the dogs,” Livia said, following her out.

Cornelia stood by the sideboard, regarding Harry in a reflective silence. “Did you come on any particular business?” she asked finally.

He shook his head. “Do I have to?”

“No.” She twisted the wedding ring on her finger. “But I find it unsettling to be in your company when we're not alone.”

“As do I in yours,” he said quietly. “But I should tell you that I think your friends have suspicions. Livia obliquely tried to warn me off.”

Cornelia frowned. “They've said nothing to me. How did she warn you?”

He shrugged. “As I said it was rather oblique. She merely said that your well-being is close to their hearts, and I would jeopardize it at my peril.”

“That doesn't sound at all oblique,” Cornelia said. “It sounds rather blunt to me.”

“Well, they're your friends. You know them better than I do.”

“Yes.” She opened her hands in a rather helpless gesture. “This is torment, Harry.”

“I know.” He stood up, took a step towards her, then stopped at the sound of a familiar voice in the hall. “Ah,” he said. “You have more visitors it would seem.”

Cornelia cocked her head, listening. “I hope it's not Letitia Oglethorpe, the woman's driving us insane.”

“I don't hear her voice,” Harry said. “And she does have a most distinctive tone.”

Cornelia grimaced in agreement, but her expression cleared as she identified the voices. “Several gentlemen at the ball at Almack's said they would call upon us.” She added with a slightly sardonic smile, “How fortunate we chose to wear our finest gowns this morning.”

Livia came back into the parlor. “Nell, we have visitors. Morecombe's shown them into the salon. Will you come?” Her eyes darted towards Harry, then back to Cornelia, a question in their depths that had nothing to do with visitors.

Cornelia said serenely, “Yes, of course. What have you done with the dogs?”

“Lester has taken them to the kitchen, and Daisy has taken the children upstairs. Lord Bonham, do you care to join us in the salon?”

He bowed. “Thank you, ma'am.”

Livia led the way to the salon where three gentlemen stood before the fireplace. “Lord Strachan, how good of you to call,” she said. “And Sir Nicholas.” She offered a cordial handshake to both gentlemen and looked inquiringly at the third.

“Ah, Lady Livia, may I present Lord Forster,” Harry said with a smile. “I should warn you he's a sad rattle, but good enough company.”

“Calumny, Harry,” David declared. He bowed to Livia. “Delighted, ma'am. Thank you for receiving me. I was desolated that we were not introduced last evening at Almack's. Fortunately, Nick here offered to remedy the omission. But if I'd known Harry would be so far ahead of us, I would have attached myself to him.”

Livia laughed. “I'm delighted to meet you, sir. And you are all of course acquainted with Lady Dagenham. And Lady Farnham.”

Harry retreated to a chair at the rear of the salon and watched with some amusement as Livia deftly and without the slightest discourtesy turned aside the obvious attentions of Lord Strachan. He realized that he needn't have worried. Livia was no more likely than her friends to fall for flattery and extravagant compliments.

The door knocker again heralded visitors, two ladies, fearsome leaders of the ton, whose critical eyes took in every detail of the apartment and its occupants while they stored up their opinions for public dissemination later.

Cornelia and Aurelia handled these new visitors with the same aplomb they had shown towards the duchess and Lady Sefton. They were not about to be intimidated, and Harry found hugely enjoyable the way they deflected the frequently impertinent questions that such arbiters of fashion felt they were entitled to ask.

“I understand you have never been affianced, Lady Livia,” the duchess of Broadhurst declared in a tone that implied this was some serious flaw on Livia's part.

“I have not as yet received an offer that would tempt me, ma'am.” Livia's smile was tranquil.

Her Grace shook her head. “A gal your age…once it's said you're on the shelf, you'll be lucky to get any offers at all.”

“Lady Livia is far too delicate to go into details of her many conquests, ma'am,” Cornelia said. “Such an indelicate conversation is hardly suitable for mixed company.” She glanced pointedly to the men clustered in front of the fire.

The duchess had the grace to look discomposed. She muttered, “Tush,” and appeared momentarily silenced.

“Have you seen the new species of shrub in the Botanical Gardens, Lady Dagenham?” Nick asked, stepping valiantly into the breach.

Cornelia, somewhat bemused, looked at him in surprise. “Species of shrub, Sir Nicholas?”

“Is it a completely new species, Sir Nicholas, or a variation on an established one?” asked Aurelia with an air of fascination.

Nick looked desperately at David. “Uh…uh, I'm not sure. Forster, you're the expert on plants.”

“Am I?” David sucked in his cheeks. “No…no, m'dear fellow. It's Harry you're thinking of.” Having tossed the hot potato, he visibly relaxed.

“Lord Bonham?” inquired Cornelia sweetly. “Are you acquainted with the shrub that Sir Nicholas is referring to?”

“As it happens, I have not the slightest interest in shrubs of any kind,” Harry said emphatically. “And now, ma'am, I must take my leave.”

“You may escort me to my carriage, Bonham,” the duchess announced, rising to her feet, gathering her numerous shawls around her. “Belinda, I'll take you up as far as Grosvenor Square.” She beckoned imperiously to her companion, Lady Nielson.

The two ladies took their somewhat haughty leave, Harry escorting them to the duchess's barouche, which stood at the door.

The gentlemen soon followed, and Cornelia said, “Unless that Broadhurst woman decides to bad-mouth us, I think, my friends, that we're now established.”

“She
is
odious,” Livia said. “How incredibly rude.”

“Oh, the greater the sense of consequence the greater the lack of finesse,” Cornelia said. “It's a close-run thing, but I think I prefer Harry's great-aunt's species of rudeness. It had some wit to it, rather than simple malice.”

“Mmm.” Livia hesitated, frowning, then asked abruptly, “Is something going on between you and Lord Bonham, Nell?”

Aurelia looked at her in surprise. She hadn't thought Livia was aware of the strange currents that swirled around the viscount and Nell. She turned her gaze to Cornelia, who, although composed, had a slightly rueful air.

“Is there, Nell?”

Cornelia could see no point in denying it, and in truth there would be huge relief in talking about it. “Is it so obvious?”

“Not to a stranger,” Aurelia said. “But to us…yes.”

Cornelia nodded. “I don't know how to explain it. It's some kind of madness. A lunacy that seems to have gripped us both. I'm sorry,” she said helplessly, looking between them, trying to read their faces.