An Affair of Honor (6 page)

“Smuggled!” Rory’s eyes lit up.

“So I have been told,” Nell said, grinning at her delight.

“How exciting it would be to meet a real smuggler!” Rory exclaimed. “Or, better still, to ride along on a smuggling venture.”

Nell returned to earth with a bang. “Nonsense,” she said briskly. “I am persuaded that you would find such a journey vastly uncomfortable. Now,” she continued hastily, fearing her lively niece would dispute that opinion, “a day or so after you have signed the visitors’ book, Mr. Wade will come to call upon you here. He is the master of ceremonies at the Castle Inn, which is across the square from the prince’s Marine Pavilion. Assemblies are held at the Castle every Monday, you know, but one needs an invitation in order to be admitted. Mr. Wade will attend to that and will also see that you always have a partner.”

“I have been to small private parties at home, and Mama took me to an assembly in Tunbridge Wells once, even though I was not properly out, of course,” Rory said. “There was a Mr. Brooke there who attended to such details, but I never required an introduction from him. I do not seem ever to lack for partners, Aunt Nell.” The statement was made with simple pride, and looking at her lovely niece, Nell did not for a moment doubt its veracity. A young woman as beautiful as the Lady Aurora Crossways would need little assistance from the Mr. Wades of the world. Rory had paused and seemed now to be deep in thought.

“What is it, dear?”

“I was just wondering if it would be necessary to inform Mr. Wade that I am betrothed,” she replied candidly. “Must he know, ma’am?”

“Well, I see no reason to volunteer the information if you do not wish it. But if he should ask you, you must tell him the truth. Why would you want to keep such information a secret, dear?”

“Because I shall discover a good deal more pleasure if people are not constantly reminding me that I already belong to Huntley. I mean to enjoy my freedom as long as I am able, Aunt Nell, and people will be always on the watch for me to misbehave if they know I am spoken for, will they not?”

It was certainly the way of the world. Nevertheless, Nell could not deny that she would be grateful for anything that would ensure Rory’s good behavior. The more she heard, the less certain she was that she would be able to keep her lively niece in line. Clearly, Rory was accustomed to going her own road. Her naive assumption that she could do as she pleased if no one knew of her betrothal was nearly frightening. Nell was wise enough, however, to realize that it would do little good to begin their relationship with a stern lecture. Besides, there were other matters she wished to discuss, and the opportunity at hand was too good to miss.

“Rory, dear, do you mind if I ask you something rather personal?” The girl shook her head, albeit with a hint of wariness in her expression. “I cannot help noting from your conversation that you are not particularly enthusiastic about this match. Surely, it is not being forced upon you?”

“Of course not. But ’tis the custom among persons of our station, is it not, for parents to select their daughter’s husband?”

“Yes, of course. But your parents dote upon you. I find it hard to believe you were not consulted in this important matter.”

Rory frowned. “I suppose I was consulted. Papa said he thought, being that Huntley was past the age of foolishness, that he could be brought up to scratch, which sent Mama into transports of delirium, so I could not but realize that the match is an excellent one. I shall be a countess, you know, and the pin money he has promised me would make you stare, Aunt Nell. He is vastly rich, you know. Though he was not such a fool as to scoff at the chance to acquire Papa’s estates, of course.”

“But you do not love him, Rory,” Nell said gently.

“Of course not. Nor he me. That would be very unfashionable, would it not? I expect I shall find romance elsewhere, however.”

Nell stared at her, shocked at last. “Romance?”

“Well, of course,” Rory replied, wide-eyed. “Does not every woman long for romance?” Nell allowed herself a bemused nod, not trusting herself to speak. Rory went on. “I own I should like to be really, truly in love, but I doubt it is in my nature. The minute I think I am in love—and I have thought so many times, you know—I discover something about him that puts me right off. Like my drawing master, for example. He was a delightful man. Handsome beyond permission and a voice that could charm anyone, but I soon discovered he had no sense of humor. And Hailey, Papa’s groom. A great sense of adventure. He was full to the brim with ideas and had a wonderful sense of humor. But I soon realized he would be quite out of place at an assembly or even in Mama’s drawing room. So I fell out of love immediately.”

“Wh-what does poor Huntley lack?” Nell asked weakly.

“Oh, any number of things,” Rory responded without a blink. “He is not at all romantic, you know. He becomes utterly cynical whenever anyone mentions the advantages of rank, though Papa certainly would not have entertained the notion of a marriage between us had he still been a mere younger son instead of a wealthy earl. And he makes not the slightest effort to win my regard. He treats me, in fact, like a child, and not even a favorite child at that. My behavior shocks him from time to time, and he has an unfortunate tendency to bellow when he is displeased. He does not understand that I am constitutionally incapable of sitting quietly and sewing seams as his mother must have done. Why, the first thing he told Papa after the betrothal papers were signed was that I must no longer be allowed to ride about the estate without a groom to attend me. Can you believe such fustian? I own I was vastly annoyed with him. And with Papa as well. For what must he do but agree with the idiotish man! I ask you, Aunt Nell.” Rory spread her hands in a gesture that, in anyone else, might have been meant to indicate helplessness. But Nell did not think her niece was at all the helpless sort.

“Surely, no well-bred young lady rides unaccompanied in the country,” she suggested for lack of anything else to say.

“Well, I didn’t dress to look like a young lady at such times,” Rory said flatly. “Whenever I rode alone like that, it was because I wished to ride astride, unhampered by skirts and conventions alike. I wore boy’s clothing. Besides,” she added hastily, “on my papa’s very own estates, who would dare to accost me?”

Who, indeed? Nell thought, ruthlessly stifling her shock at the thought of her niece in boy’s clothing. If anyone could take care of herself, she was willing to believe Rory could. She regarded that young woman with fascination. In the reflected firelight Rory looked like a vibrant, golden girl. Her hair glittered with gilt highlights. Even her simple white muslin gown seemed to pulse now with an orange-gold life of its own. Surely, no man could look at such a girl and not be besotted. She seemed nearly magical, a sort of fairy princess. No, not a fairy princess, Nell amended. Fairy princesses were by nature generally gentle, submissive sorts. Nell doubted that there was a submissive bone in Rory’s body. His lordship would certainly have his work cut out for him. She wondered if he had half a notion of what lay ahead of him.

She realized Rory was waiting for her to comment. “I am certain you must feel perfectly secure on your papa’s estates, dear, where everyone knows who you are. But I do hope you will not attempt to ride alone or improperly attired while you are staying with us. Not only Lord Huntley, but everyone else would stare to see you behave so improperly.”

“Well, I brought my mare, for I was persuaded we should ride from time to time. I hope we may do so often.”

“Of course we shall, if you like. There are some splendid rides along the cliffs, or we can ride to Brighton Downs one day if you think it would amuse you to do so. I enjoy riding very much.”

“Brighton Downs,” Rory repeated thoughtfully. Even as Nell saw the pit yawning before her, the golden eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and the lithe young body in the slipper chair showed even greater animation than before. “Is that not where the prince’s regiment is encamped?”

“It is,” Nell replied, carefully keeping her voice even. “We shall not ride near the encampment, however.”

“Oh.” The single word expressed a good deal of disappointment.

“For heaven’s sake, Rory, surely you would not wish to parade before a bunch of unruly soldiers!”

“Well, no, not common soldiers, Aunt Nell, but there are officers as well, are there not?”

“Now, see here, young lady,” Nell began sternly. But when her niece only looked interested to hear what she would say next, she broke off with a laugh. “I daresay now you are roasting me. But it will not do, you know. In your own village, where you are known, your behavior must generally be excused, but here in Brighton I beg you will be circumspect. Pranks will not be well accepted, and your behavior, good or bad, will reflect upon both your grandmama and myself. I hope you will remember that before you do anything improper.”

“Oh dear,” Rory said. “Then you, too, expect me to do outrageous things. I know that Huntley fears the same thing.”

“I don’t expect anything of the sort,” Nell returned. “But from what I have heard and seen so far, I believe you to be as high-spirited as you were at twelve, and I’m persuaded that you rarely think before you act or speak. And that,” she added when her niece looked stricken, “is plain speaking, indeed.” She leaned forward, holding out a hand. “I have accepted the duties of a chaperon, my dear, but I am truly not a dragon. I do hope we shall be friends.”

Rory flashed her a brilliant smile and grasped the outstretched hand warmly. “We shall be, Aunt Nell. I just know we shall be. And I shall try very hard not to do anything that will bring discredit to you or to Grandmama. I may still roast Kit occasionally, may I not?”

“With my goodwill,” Nell laughed, giving Rory’s hand a quick squeeze. “It may help prevent him from putting himself on too high a form.” She got up and moved to pull the bell. “I believe I shall ring for tea now, dear. I know the hour is not yet far advanced, but you have had a tiring journey and will wish to be at your best tomorrow. An early night will be good for both of us. I doubt that we shall see many of them in the days ahead.”

“Shall we be very busy, ma’am?”

“Indeed we shall. Once word gets around that I am sponsoring my beautiful niece, we shall have more invitations than we shall be able to answer.”

“Shall we be invited to the Pavilion?”

“Oh, dear.” Nell paused, with her hand on the tapestry bell pull, staring at her niece in dismay. “It never occurred to me to ask Clarissa whether she meant that for you or not. However,” she added quickly when Rory moved to protest, “I daresay she would have mentioned it if she objected.” She pulled the bell. “Just see that you remember to show proper respect to Mrs. Fitzherbert if you should chance to meet her.”

“The prince’s mistress?” Rory looked more excited than shocked by the possibility.

“Here in Brighton many look upon her as the prince’s true wife,” Nell told her. “She is very kind, and many think she has not been fairly treated. ’Tis all on account of that infamous Marriage Act, you know. Her marriage to the prince was never annulled, because it was not considered to be legal in the first placed—not having the King’s blessing and all.”

“Were they actually married, Aunt Nell? I heard ’twas nothing but fudge.”

Nell nodded. “We believe so, at any rate. ’Tis on account of Mrs. Creevey, Mama’s good friend, telling us last autumn—I believe ’twas just before the action at Trafalgar, you know—that Prinny had suffered a curious slip of the tongue. He was telling Mrs. Creevey how he had spent the day quietly alone with Mrs. Fitzherbert at her house on the Steyne, which—and these were his very own words, mind you—was certainly very
unfashionable.
Now, does that not show that he, at least, believes himself to be her lawful husband? For how else could he possibly have thought his actions unfashionable?”

Rory went into a peal of laughter, startling the maid who entered just then with the teatray. “Oh, Aunt Nell, ’tis unanswerable proof, to be sure.”

“Well, we thought so,” Nell replied with a smile. “Put the tray on that table, Katy. We mean to help ourselves.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and left them to investigate the covered dishes. “Oh, good. Cinnamon muffins,” Nell said. “Cook makes excellent muffins. Do have one.”

“What about the Princess Caroline of Brunswick, then?” Rory asked once she had buttered her muffin.

“We do not see Prinny’s wife here or his daughter, either,”

Nell replied simply, pouring them each a cup of hot tea. “Indeed, he seems a good deal less interested in poor Princess Charlotte than in Mrs. Fitzherbert’s little Minny. You will often see him with them as they stroll among the visitors on the Steyne or drive in his carriage along the esplanade.”

Rory frowned suddenly. “You told Huntley we would drive with him on the esplanade tomorrow,” she said slowly. “Must we?”

Nell sipped her tea, watching her companion over the rim of the fragile cup. She did not reply until she had replaced the cup in its saucer. “We must. He wants to get to know you better, my dear, and I must say that considering you will soon be his wife, I should think you would agree that his intentions are admirable and do all in your power to help him achieve his purpose.”

“He did not even say what time he means to call for us.” Rory sounded sulky.

“Never mind that, child,” Nell said comfortably. “I daresay that if we do not chance to meet him at Donaldson’s Library, he will contrive to send a message here to the house. He is a gentleman who is perfectly capable of dealing with such minor details.”

Rory sighed and reached for another muffin.

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING DAWNED
crisp and clear. When the middle-aged chambermaid who brought Nell her morning chocolate opened the moss-colored velvet drapes in her bedchamber, bright rays of sunshine spilled across the mellow-toned Holbein carpet, almost touching the embroidered flounce of her bed. The bedchamber, not being one of the principal rooms of the house, looked both to the south and to the east and, situated as it was on the second floor, presented a fine view—on sunny days, at least—of bright chalk cliffs and sparkling blue sea.