An Affair of Honor (25 page)

“Ah, but you are still an innocent, my dear, regardless of the fact that you think yourself such an old cat. The fault is mine. I should not have let it happen.”

“But it did happen,” she pointed out. “Between two good friends, and it is over now and done. We should be thinking ahead now to how you mean to deal with Rory, should we not?”

“Deal with Rory?” He seemed puzzled.

“Well, surely this proves that you must not marry her, Philip.”

He cast her a pain-ridden glance, but she said nothing further, and at last, staring at a point beyond her shoulder, he spoke. “I have realized for some time now and for several reasons that my betrothal was an unfortunate mistake. However, that knowledge, though frustrating, makes little difference. I am contracted to her. Had I known after my brother died—But it is so senseless to look back, to wail over what might have been. Indeed, it is pointless. My honor is at stake now, so there is nothing to be done.”

“How Gothic!” Nell did nothing now to conceal the sudden anger she felt, but when he only regarded her with that expression of helpless pain, she realized it would be fruitless to debate the matter with him. A gentleman of honor, such as she knew him to be, could never call off his betrothal. It was a simple enough thing for the lady to do—ladies being considered a fickle lot—but it was never an acceptable act for a gentleman. Privately Nell thought that a stupid custom, for certainly a gentleman could make a mistake (as, indeed, Huntley had done) just as easily as a lady might.

Pressing her lips together she let him help her back into the saddle and, during the ride back into Brighton, made little effort to respond to his occasional conversational gambits. Her mind was too busy for desultory chitchat, and though he looked as if he could use some more comforting, she had no wish to offer him soothing words. Her emotions were too much in turmoil.

Where she had once thought marriage to Huntley would be the making of her niece, now she knew it would be total disaster for both of them. And for others, as well. Herself, in particular. The thought showed an alarming tendency to linger, but for the moment and despite her still-tingling senses, Nell made every effort to repress it. It was not in her nature to dwell upon what might have been, but it was certainly in her nature to attack present difficulties head-on in order to clear the way for what might be. Therefore, it made better sense to deal with the situation at hand than to attempt to make sense of Huntley’s cryptic references to the past. A little resolution was clearly required if matters were to be rearranged satisfactorily.

She thought at first that Huntley himself, if he truly wished to be free, might simply make a push to discuss the matter with Rory and convince her to agree to a mutual dissolution of the betrothal. But upon thinking it over, she realized it would be useless to suggest such a course to him. He would refuse, insisting that to make the suggestion would be every bit as insulting to Rory as it would be to jilt her without discussing the matter. And in the normal course of events, of course, it would be. But from what she had seen of her niece lately, the events were anything but normal. She had a suspicion that, with very little encouragement, Rory would welcome an end to her betrothal, that she had already discovered a preference for men—perhaps even for one man—nearer her own age.

Clearly, then, Nell herself would have to discuss the matter with her. Briefly, she considered the possibility of informing him of her intention, but she discarded the notion almost the moment it entered her head. He would forbid that course as well, and then she would be at a standstill. And Nell meant to do something. She could not simply let matters take their course, for if she did, Huntley would end up married to Rory, and they would all be miserable.

At that moment and seemingly of its own accord, her memory jumped back to the interlude in the elm grove. His behavior had shaken her a good deal, but never had anyone made her feel as Philip had made her feel in those brief moments. Certainly, she could not deny her own body’s responses. Of course, she was, as he had pointed out, rather inexperienced in such matters. She cast her now silent companion a speculative glance. Perhaps he had only given way to the sort of passion men—if what one had heard was true—indulged in without really thinking it meant anything. She had certainly never thought before today that he might carry a tenderness for her. Oh, there had been a time all those many years ago when she had thought he cared for her, when she had even hoped—But it had come to nothing, and had probably been only friendship even then. No doubt she had been too strong-minded for him. But then other memories of the elm grove intruded, and stirred by a small, delicious tremor deep within herself, she was forced to consider the possibility that he might be rather strong-minded himself from time to time. And looking at his glum countenance now, she could not believe he had no strong feelings for her. Before the thought settled, however, she remembered how easily he could be ruled by his sister’s strong words, a couple of crystal vinaigrettes, and by his own wretched sense of honor. It was all disturbing, even frustrating. Moreover, it was all mere pointless speculation, unless the betrothal could be ended.

When they reached Upper Rock Gardens, Huntley rather disconcertingly bade her farewell on the doorstep, declining an invitation to step inside for a few minutes. Then, when Nell said, somewhat hesitantly for her, that they would look for him at eight to escort them to Mrs. Calvert’s drum, he clapped a hand to his head and looked at her ruefully.

“I forgot,” he said, “and I told Aurora it would be best if she remained at home this evening. Never gave a thought to the fact that I would be spoiling your pleasure, as well.”

“Merciful heavens, next you will say you sent her to bed without her supper!” Her equilibrium fully recovered now, Nell regarded him in fond exasperation. “Typically Gothic behavior, if I may say so, my lord. It will serve no useful purpose to keep her at home tonight, and it may do harm. There is, despite your assurance to the contrary, a slight possibility that one of those gentlemen with the prince might have recognized her today: She is an extraordinarily beautiful girl, after all, and has drawn a good deal of attention. If she does not put in an appearance tonight, any suspicion of that sort will be confirmed. We must go.”

He nodded. “I confess, I hadn’t thought the matter through carefully. Very well, you may tell her you cozened me into changing my mind. And, Nell …”

She looked up curiously but found only warmth and a hint of sadness in his expression. “Sir?”

“You see to it that that baggage keeps out of mischief,” he ordered. “My patience is wearing thin, and it will do her no good to turn me into a tyrant before she’s saddled with me for life.”

She grinned at him, dimples showing in both cheeks, but she vouchsafed no reply. Her mind was made up. If Huntley hadn’t enough resolution to see the betrothal ended, then she would simply have to attend to the matter herself. Bidding him farewell with the firm intention of having the matter well in hand by suppertime, she went in search of her niece.

N
ELL DID NOT HAVE
far to search. When she pushed open the door to the yellow bedchamber, she beheld her niece curled up on the French seat in the window bay, staring out at the back garden, her arms folded along the back of the seat, her chin resting upon her hands. The gray kitten curled up in the folds of her skirt opened one eye but closed it again upon seeing Nell, and after a momentary hesitation, Rory lifted her head and looked over her shoulder. Her expression gave little away, but there was a hint of defiance in her voice when she spoke.

“I suppose you have seen Huntley.”

Nell shut the door. “Indeed I have, and such a lecture as he read me you would scarcely believe!”

“He scolded you, Aunt Nell?” Rory sat up a little straighter.

“He certainly did. I’d no notion the man possessed such a temper.” She stepped to the window seat and sat down, peering rather anxiously at her niece. “Are you all right, my dear?”

Rory grimaced, then pulled Ulysses into her lap, stroking him gently. “I expect he told you what happened,” she muttered.

“Yes, of course he did, and I must say it was foolish of you to ride so near to the men’s bathing area, but I explained that I had forgotten to warn you against it, so he has come down out of the boughs. You’ve no need to fret any further.”

Rory looked up through her heavy lashes. “Is that why he was angry with you, ma’am? Because I don’t think he should be.”

Nell chuckled. “Good gracious, no. I took a foolish notion into my head that you had ridden to the Downs, and so I rode up thinking to meet you. Only of course you hadn’t, and so when Huntley found me I was alone, for of course he sets no store, as you know to your own cost, by a mere groom’s escort. So he ordered poor Peter off home and gave me the devil of a trimming.”

“Oh, Aunt Nell, I’m truly sorry!”

Nell’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t refine too much upon it, my dear. I assure you, I don’t. Very likely he was annoyed at having his bathing interrupted and merely took the opportunity we offered him to ventilate his feelings.”

Rory’s slim fingers fiddled with gray fur until Ulysses uttered a faint mew of protest, whereupon she relaxed her hands and looked at her aunt. “I hope he doesn’t ventilate such feelings often, ma’am. I, for one, don’t like to be bellowed at.”

“Dear me,” Nell said, “did he bellow?” She gave it some thought. “He does have a sad habit of doing so from time to time. However, I am persuaded—” She bit off the words she had been about to utter, realizing there would be little profit to be gained from insisting that his lordship’s bark was a good deal worse than his bite. Instead, she patted the girl’s hand sympathetically. “I expect you are not accustomed to bursts of temperament from those around you. You know, my dear, the more I learn of your Lord Huntley, the less I believe him to be the man for you.”

Rory shrugged. “There is nothing to be done, however.”

“You could end the betrothal,” Nell suggested baldly. “You would scarcely be the first young woman to change her mind.”

The golden eyes widened. “Oh no, ma’am, surely you must see that I cannot. Mama and Papa would be so disappointed. Mama, in particular,” she added with a small sigh. For a brief moment she gazed wistfully out of the window, but she rallied quickly and managed a smile when she turned back to Nell. “Besides, I shall quite like being a countess and having lots of money. I daresay that will make up for the rest.”

Resolutely Nell swallowed the sharp retort that sprang to the tip of her tongue, but it was clear that ending the relationship between Rory and Lord Huntley might not be so easy as she had first thought. For one thing, she had forgotten Clarissa, who would be most unlikely to whistle a fortune the size of Huntley’s down the wind without a fight. And Rory herself was obviously more enamored of the title and the money than Nell had first supposed. If there were only someone else whose eligibility would match his lordship’s. But there was not. She dismissed Major Talcott with little more than a brief thought. Although she was perfectly certain that her niece had a strong interest in the gentleman, she had seen little indication of late that he returned that interest. And even if he did, his fortune could scarcely compare to the earl’s. She continued to consider the matter far into the afternoon and even while she prepared for the evening ahead, but she could think of no course of action that would answer the purpose.

Huntley, arriving promptly at eight, gave her a quick, searching glance, then seemed to relax when she smiled at him. A moment later Nell, knowing full well that he had somewhat mixed feelings about her mother’s fragile constitution, hid a grin at his visible attempt to conceal astonishment when Lady Agnes informed him that she meant to accompany them.

“Is it not courageous of her, sir?” Nell asked, quizzing him. Lips twitching, he replied that it was, indeed.

“I think it is splendid,” Rory said cheerfully as she settled herself in the carriage.

“Well, Mrs. Calvert is a particular friend of mine,” Lady Agnes explained earnestly when Huntley handed her up to sit beside her granddaughter, “and there will be a card room set up, you know, so I shan’t exert myself beyond what my constitution will bear. I hadn’t really thought I should go, but dear Nell thought it would do me good to get out, you know, and Sir Henry concurred, so here I am. It is good of you to lend us your escort, Huntley.”

“The pleasure is mine, my lady,” he assured her, indulging himself in a twinkling glance at Nell as he climbed in to take his place beside her on the forward seat. The warmth behind the twinkle sent her senses reeling again, and it didn’t help when his hand brushed inadvertently against her skirts. Plunged suddenly into her own thoughts, Nell took little notice of the conversation as the carriage moved through the streets of Brighton.

Mrs. Calvert had cleared her drawing room for dancing and had turned her first-floor saloon into a card room. Greeting them upon their arrival, she announced in her placid manner that a late supper would be served at eleven in the dining room. “Agnes, my dear, we are delighted to see you. We had quite decided you would be unable to afford us the pleasure of your company.”

“What ‘us’?” Huntley inquired in a low voice as he escorted the ladies toward the drawing room. “She invests the word with nearly regal overtones.”

Only Nell heard him, and she turned laughing eyes to his. “There is a Mr. Calvert, my lord,” she told him, her voice catching a little when she realized how closely they stood together. “Rather a quiet, somewhat elderly man. I believe we would find him in the card room if we were to look. Oh, Mama,” she added, speaking slightly louder, “there is Sir Henry. I didn’t know he meant to be here this evening. We should have invited him to make one of our party.”

“Oh, he thought he might just look in, you know,” Lady Agnes replied vaguely, signaling Sir Henry, however, with her silk fan even as she spoke.

A few moments later Sir Henry had taken Lady Agnes off to the card room, and Rory’s hand had been solicited for the first dance, so Nell found herself alone once more with Huntley. His nearness was still disturbing, and she searched her mind rapidly for a safe topic of conversation. “Have you seen the prince, sir?” she asked at last. “Was he annoyed with you for leaving his bathing party?”