An Affair of Honor (14 page)

Norfolk nodded obligingly, then gestured toward the dance floor. “And as I predicted, sir, I believe this must be Huntley’s lady approaching us now. A diamond of the first water, my lord. I congratulate you.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Huntley turned as Rory approached with her partner. “My lady, here is a treat for you. Highness, may I have the honor to present the Lady Aurora Crossways.”

Nell was glad she had not had to comment on the prince’s tale. She watched as the introductions were made, noting that the prince seemed to go out of his way to be charming. She might wish that his language were a little more circumspect, but she could not fault his manners otherwise. Nonetheless, the tale had puzzled her, and when the royal party had melted back into the throng and Rory’s next partner had come to claim her, she turned to Huntley, a small frown wrinkling the space between her straight, narrow brows.

He smiled down at her. “That was not so bad as it might have been. Why the frown, Nell?”

“’Tis the bully butcher of Brighton, sir. Surely, such an incident could not long have remained secret, but I never heard so much as a whisper about it.”

“Not all of Prinny’s tales have much foundation in fact, I’m afraid.”

“Do you meant to say he tells lies?” Nell was shocked. It was a side of the prince she had been unaware of, if indeed it was a side of him at all.

Huntley paused, giving the matter serious consideration. “I do not know that I would call it anything so serious as that,” he said at last. “It only occurs—that I know of, at least—when he is telling his stories. And it does not happen so much, I am told, when Maria is present. She is able to curb his tongue. But it is more as if he loses himself in his imagination. I think he honestly believes the things he talks about actually occurred.”

Nell’s eyes widened. “You speak as though the man is mad, sir. He is Prince of Wales!”

He smiled. “That factor does not preclude madness, my dear. Indeed, as everyone knows, the family is riddled with insanity. It would be no odd thing for him to follow the example set by his father, though Prinny’s is not an extreme case at the moment. Maria Fitzherbert exerts an excellent influence. We must hope for the best.”

“Indeed, sir, we must,” Nell said slowly, turning over the astonishing information in her mind.

“There is another set forming,” he said. “Will you do me the honor, ma’am?”

“I do not dance, sir,” she replied absently, still thinking of the prince.

“Nonsense. You are not an invalid. Come.” His hand at her elbow brought her out of her brown study. She looked at him in confusion.

“I am here as a chaperon, sir. ’Tis not seemly.”

“Fiddle. Do you think for one moment that Lady Crossways would sit idle had she brought Aurora to this affair?”

The question was unanswerable, but still Nell hesitated. “It has been eight years, my lord. I shall not even know the steps.”

“Don’t give that another thought. Just follow my lead and watch the other ladies. I’ll see you through. Besides, if you’re worried about presenting a scene for gawkers, you needn’t be. No one will give you a glance with such a spectacle to amuse them as that quaking obesity in green stripes yonder.” Nell glanced toward the set he indicated and saw Lady Pomfret, in all her undulating glory, throwing heart and soul into the patterns. “With such an example of courage as that to guide you, my dear,” Huntley said provocatively, “surely you will not be so timid as to refuse my humble invitation.”

Her eyes twinkled. “As you say, my lord. If you dare to risk it, who am I to quibble?”

Half an hour later Huntley suggested and, much to Rory’s patent disgust, Nell concurred that it would be as well not to wait until after the late supper had been served to take their departure since the morrow, being the prince’s birthday, would be an exceptionally busy day.

“But I am promised for the supper,” Rory protested.

“Then you must excuse yourself to your partner,” Huntley replied evenly. “In fact, I shall endeavor to perform that office for you, if you will be so good as to point him out to me.

“I-I don’t see him just at the moment,” Rory said falteringly. The color in her cheeks had heightened, too, and Nell thought for a moment that she might have prevaricated in order to remain at the assembly. Huntley’s quick frown returned.

“Perhaps I know him. What is his name?”

Rory looked more uncomfortable than ever, but she took a deep breath and, managing a look that was half defiant, half fearful, said, “’Tis Major Talcott. And it is of no use to look like that, Huntley, because I promised him before ever you spoke to me. And I keep my promises,” she added rashly.

“Then I wish that you will promise me that you will contrive to behave more in the manner expected of a lady of quality,” Huntley retorted. He chose to ignore the glare directed at him from the golden eyes, and turned to Nell. “Take her to collect her wrap, if you please, while I endeavor to find the good major. Will your coach be waiting?”

“Yes, although I expect I shall have to send a linkboy to wake up my driver. Poor Trilby is getting on in years and does not stay awake so easily as he did in his younger days. Do you come with us?”

“I do. ’Tis only a short stroll from your house to mine, after all.”

“Well, you needn’t walk, sir, for Trilby will have to drive round to the stable, and in order to reach it, he can as easily go by way of the Marine Parade as by Edward Street, you know.” He nodded, then left to discover the whereabouts of Major Talcott, and Nell turned to her niece. “Come along, dear. Sulking will accomplish nothing, you know.”

“Well, I think Huntley is by far the greatest beast in nature,” Rory said roundly. “I cannot think what it will be like to be married to such a man as that. Very likely I shall suffer untold brutality, and no one will care a jot, either!”

Instead of replying to this outpouring as it deserved, Nell merely muttered in vague agreement, thus causing her offended niece to stare at her in bewilderment. But Nell felt none of the irritation one might have expected her to feel. In its place she felt a stirring of sadness.

T
HE MORNING OF THE
Prince of Wales’s birthday dawned with a pandemonium of church bells ringing in celebration throughout the town. As a result of the noise, if not the bright sunshine pouring through bedchamber windows once the servants had opened the curtains, the Lindale household was up and about some time before its members were normally accustomed to begin their days.

Rory announced upon entering the breakfast parlor that she found the whole business greatly exciting. “There is nothing like this in Kent,” she said happily. “Not even in Tunbridge Wells.”

Her uncle glowered, the puffiness around his eyes having already indicated to his observant sister that he was a bit the worse for a late evening. “My compliments to Tunbridge Wells,” he grunted. “I’d no notion the place was so civilized. How long,” he added, wincing, “do they mean to continue that din?”

“Have you a headache, dearest?” inquired Lady Agnes solicitously from the foot of the oval table. “Shall I ring for my maid to fetch you some hartshorn and water?”

Her son’s expression indicated incipient nausea.

“Perhaps some minced rhubarb would be more in keeping with his needs, Mama,” Nell suggested, her eyes atwinkle. “He appears to me to require something to settle his stomach. Or perhaps he is feverish,” she went on, stretching out a hand to feel his brow, “in which case he will best be served by a dose of Dr. James’s Powders.”

“
Will
you be quiet,” pleaded her brother in exasperated tones.

Rory, taking her seat opposite Nell, chuckled at his obvious distress. “I do believe poor Uncle Kit is bilious,” she said in sugar-sweet, mock commiseration. There was no sign this morning of the sulky child Nell had unsympathetically packed off to bed the previous evening. Dressed becomingly now in green-sprigged muslin with a narrow pink sash and matching leather sandals, she presented a picture of demure maidenhood that made it difficult to remember her less endearing moods.

Nell smiled at her but spoke to the hovering footman. “Bring Mr. Lindale some more hot coffee, please, Jeremy. Lashings of it, I should think. Blue ruin, Kit?”

“You’ve a tongue too long for your teeth, my girl.”

“What is blue ruin?” asked Rory innocently.

“Nothing you need know about, chit,” snapped her uncle.

“Gin,” explained Nell, still smiling. “They call it blue ruin because of the effect is has on the imbiber. Actually, the term usually refers to bad gin.”

“Kit, you don’t drink that awful stuff, do you?” asked his mother anxiously. “I am persuaded ’tis a frightful waste of money, besides doing dreadful things to the state of your health.”

Shooting a glare at his sister that, in earlier days, would have warned her to search between her sheets before retiring, he replied irritably, “I am well enough, ma’am. Just blue-deviled. The noise of those blasted bells is enough to drive a fellow mad.”

“Well, they will stop in another fifteen minutes,” Nell said soothingly after looking at the little watch pinned to the bodice of her light green walking dress. “Do you mean to accompany us?”

Gruffly, Kit agreed that he might just as well, since there was not likely to be any other way to amuse oneself until the celebrations were over and done. But he warned that he would more than likely leave them to join his cronies once they had reached the field outside of town where most of the festivities would take place.

“Well, if you mean to ride with us, we shall have to take the barouche,” his mama said with a tiny frown. “The landaulet won’t hold us all.”

“What? Don’t tell me you mean to go with us, Mama?” Kit seemed to forget his own troubles at this astonishing news.

“Well, yes, I have decided to attempt it. Sir Henry reminded me that I might just sit quietly in the carriage, you know, and still watch most of the fun. You needn’t think I shall expect any of you to bear the company, however,” she added, her words causing her granddaughter’s falling expression to lighten again. “Sir Henry has graciously engaged himself to perform that task and thus to prevent my becoming bored with my own company.”

“Oh, Lord,” Kit moaned. “That’s torn it, then. I shall certainly look for my friends. I may even have my horse saddled.”

Nell chuckled. “A nice trot to the other side of town ought to put you in prime twig. All that bouncing and jolting, and—”

“Enough,” groaned her sorely-tried brother. “I’ll ride in the carriage, but if that crusty old reprobate begins preaching, I’ll not be held responsible for the consequences.”

“Well, I don’t think it is at all kind of you to call a nice old gentleman like Sir Henry an old reprobate,” Rory said sweetly.

Kit turned pointedly to his sister. “Does Huntley mean to join us on this little expedition?”

She grinned at him. “I invited him to share our picnic later, and he has engaged to escort Rory and me to the ball at the Pavilion tonight, but I doubt we shall see much of him this morning. I believe he mentioned that he is expected to accompany the prince’s party.”

Rory did not look particularly overjoyed at the news that Huntley would be joining them. Her expression was rather one of resignation. Nell felt a stirring of pity.

She had no doubt that his lordship would make her niece an excellent husband, but it was unfortunate that Rory was so young. Arranged marriages were still customary, of course, and there could be no doubt that it would be wiser to allow her parents to choose a husband than to allow someone as flighty as Rory to choose her own. Why, by her own account, she was prone to fall in and out of love as quickly as a cat might lick her ear. The previous night it had been Major Talcott, two nights before that, Harry Seton, and before that a groom and a drawing master!

Still and all, Nell thought, watching her, it was a shame she was to be married so quickly and with so little experience of the world. Of course, she did not doubt for a moment that Rory would see more of London, at least, than Huntley seemed to anticipate. He would be as putty in her hands once she learned how to manage him, his brief show of authority at the Castle assembly notwithstanding. That had accomplished nothing other than to set up her back. Certainly, he would have to discover some better means of dealing with her than mere harsh words. And considering how easily his mother and sister seemed to govern the man—”

“
Nell!
” She looked up, startled, to see her brother standing impatiently by his chair. “Mama asked how soon you wish to depart. Sir Henry will arrive at ten, so I expect you will want to leave the house
immediately
thereafter.”

She grinned at him, but agreed willingly enough to be ready to depart the moment Sir Henry should arrive.

The old gentleman was prompt, as was his habit, and they were soon squeezed into the Lindale barouche and on their way to the festivities. Rory exclaimed at the sight of the gaily waving banners that festooned nearly every lamppost and building along the way. Adding to the festival atmosphere was a military band playing a lively tune on the Steyne as they passed by, and by the time they reached the edge of town, their carriage had joined a host of vehicles of every description, crowded with laughing, chattering townspeople. The royal party was already in place when they arrived at the field.

“Look!” exclaimed Kit, “Mrs. Fitz is here.” Nell looked past him and out the window to see that Mrs. Fitzherbert was indeed at the prince’s side.

“She must have arrived late last night in order to surprise him,” she said with a chuckle, “and I daresay the fact that she was waiting to greet him was all that dragged him from his bed, for after seeing his condition last night, I’d wager that his head is a match for yours this morning, Kit.”

“Where?” demanded Rory, who was squeezed in between them in order that Lady Agnes and Sir Henry might share the rear seat in comfort.

“Where is what?” asked Kit.

“Mrs. Fitzherbert. I have never seen her.” She twisted around and leaned across him in an attempt to see the famous lady.

“Next to his highness, of course.”